A New Year's Kiss (BoyxBoy)

27. The Answer To All My Problems

Jay

Leila had taken a week off work to go and visit some relatives who lived near London.

On the Monday, mid afternoon, I received a phone call.

It was Alex's mum.

"Hello?" I answered, my heart pounding from what it could possibly be she wanted to talk to me about.

"Hello Jay" she said, her tone not giving anything away. "I'm just calling to let you know that Alex woke up last night."

"That's excellent news!" I gushed, cutting her off. I then quickly realised this might not be a good news call...... "...isn't it?" I quickly added.

"Yes, it is good news. He is a little confused, but that's understandable considering what he's been through."

I couldn't help but feel like that was a dig at me.

"The reason I've called Jay, is to ask you not to visit for a while. Like I said, he's very confused, and we need to give him chance to adjust to what's happened to him, and I don't think seeing you is going to help that. Do you understand?"

What could I say?

"Sure," I said, "I won't visit."

I could almost hear her breathe a sigh of relief. Did she think I would argue? Even though I really wanted to go, I thought she was probably right and he would need time before he saw me again.

"Thank you, Jay," she said, her voice now much gentler.

"Can I ask you a favour though? Can you tell him I truly am sorry. I've told him every day that I've been to see him, but can you please do it again for me?"

There was a pause on the end of the phone before she replied, "I will, but it will probably be better coming from yourself. As soon as I think he can handle a visit from you, I'll give you a call, ok?"

"Ok, thank you." I said before we ended the call.

Wow, Alex was awake.

Of all the scenarios I have thought about regarding Alex waking up, it never occurred to me that I might not be able to see him at all.

The next few days were miserable. I tried to distract myself by working with Mr Finley at The Pitt Stop, but nothing would stop me thinking about him. As the days went on I could feel myself getting more and more depressed. I was really missing him.

I couldn't even hang outside the hospital in the hope of speaking to Leila for some news. I did consider ringing Alex's mum, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

I could tell Mr & Mrs Finley were starting to worry about me. They kept asking me if I was ok. What could I say? I felt a bit pathetic that I felt so down after just not seeing Alex for a few days. So I told them I was fine.

But I wasn't. I was hardly getting any sleep at all. Every time I felt close to nodding off, my anxiety would kick in and I would be wide awake again. It wasn't even as if I was getting the catch up naps at the hospital.

By the weekend my mind and body was a mess.

I paced up and down the flat in frustration. I needed to see Alex. I felt as though if I could just see him my mind would finally be able to rest. I was mentally exhausted from the anxiety attacks and I wished that I had a switch to just turn my mind off so I could rest.

During my frantic pacing, I managed to knock a bag off the sideboard and something clunked to the floor.

I glanced across and noticed it was the bag Mr Finley gave me with my personal effects from my car.

As I picked the bag up, I noticed what made the clunking noise. There lying on the floor, half under the table was a bottle of single malt whiskey. It was the bottle I had bought that day. The day I ran over Alex.

My breath caught in my throat. I just froze staring at it. For some reason I couldn't take my eyes off it. I picked it up and felt the cool glass against my warm, slightly sweaty hands. I pressed the glass onto my cheek. The coolness felt good and gave me something to focus my mind on.

I made my way over to the chair and plopped down, moving the bottle from hand to hand, looking at the liquid flopping over itself as I turned the bottle. It was mesmerizing.

I unscrewed the top and took a sniff. I couldn't really smell it, so I went and got myself a small glass and poured some of the liquid into it.

I put the cap back on the bottle, then sat in the chair swirling the liquid round and round the glass, occasionally sticking my nose into the glass and inhaling deeply.

All I could think was that this glass could hold the answer to all my problems. If I drank enough, the anxiety would go and I would sleep.

And boy, did I need a good night's sleep.

All I needed to do was drink it.