Incandescence

13: Visiting Hours

Hospitals and I generally don't mix. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that, aside from the deep blue sea and all its relatives, they're my greatest enemy. Only fitting I should meet Daniel here, then.

            "No way. Everyone knows spicy beef and pepperoni are the best toppings," Lena declares. We're sitting in the back of the Suldana's Jeep, on our way to the Royal Infirmary outside Hope where they're treating Erik. Lena and Erik's father, Simon, are currently mid-debate over what type of pizza to get once visiting hours are over and done with.

            Lena, of course, is winning.

            "They're too popular." Simon shakes his head, indicating to pull off the freeway. "A little originality won't kill you, kid."

            Lena scoffs. "There's a difference between being original and being plain weird."

            "Simon, how old are you?" Lydia demands, jumping in as peacemaker before fists can be raised. "It's a good thing your son's not here to see you acting like a ten-year-old."

            I've got to agree with Lydia on this one. If Erik was here, he'd no doubt be ashamed. But hey, if it makes Lena happy then who am I to spoil her fun?

            The Royal Infirmary isn't hard to locate. If its vast size wasn't enough to tip someone off, the number of ambulances and fluorescent lights flashing outside the building would be. Damn, they must be a fortune in electricity bills.

            One by one we climb out the Jeep, each of us closing the doors with careless disregard. Slam. Slam. Slam. Slam. Click. The car is locked. Everything seems so final now, as if there's no hope of turning back. A part of me truly feels I'm on the walk of no return; a prisoner at the end of death row, safe in the knowledge that what lies ahead is more shades of black.

            "You alright there, April? You seem a little . . . anxious," Lena says as Erik's parents walk ahead.

            "I'm fine," I say, crossing my arms over my chest as a whoosh of cold air hits me. Little prickles of flesh have risen on my bare arms. Why didn't I grab my blazer?

            "You didn't have to come, y'know, if you didn't want to. I mean, I know you and Erik aren't exactly the best of friends. . ." She gives me a sideways glance, waiting for me to prove her wrong.

            "Well, I wanted to make sure he was okay. And plus, there's something . . . I need to see someone, at the hospital–"

            "Why? Is something wrong? Holy shit, you're not dying, are you? You know I can't afford a new black outfit at this time of year! I've got Christmas presents to buy." 

            "Well, look on the bright side: guess you can save getting me one this year." Lena smacks my arm and I roll my eyes. "Relax. There's just someone I've gotta meet. A. . .well, friend."

           Friend. What a perfectly fake title.

            We catch up with Simon and Lydia, and they keep Lena preoccupied for the rest of the walk, assuring her that Erik's perfectly fine, that they were only at the hospital this afternoon and he'd returned to his old self, complaining about being stuck in "some stupid, lumpy bed with no decent freeview channels." She laughs, but I can't help realising how dedicated Erik's parents are to their son. Would Mum react the same way in their position?

            We reach the infirmary's front entrance, and are greeted warmly by the woman at the reception desk. "Back again," she says to Simon and Lydia, flashing a set of commercial-pretty choppers.