Gone (Ianthony)

One Month, One Week, Two Days, and Nineteen Hours Before

Anthony:    

Possibly the scariest feeling in the world is waking up and having no idea where in hell you are.

Espeically when you feel like you had just been hit by a semi truck; my head hurt so bad I could barely open my eyes, my mouth burned of bile, and every one of my limbs felt as if I had just completed an Iron Man the day before.

After squinting at the light pouring in through the blinds, I made out enough to realize I was in a hospital room.

"God," I muttered aloud, not even really realizing it.

What had happened after I left Ian the message last night? I ordered more booze, I cried, I drank more booze... the rest was a blur. God. Now what?

I tried to stand up and walk toward the window to see if it would help me realize where I was, but the IV connected to my arm made it difficult. My middle area was killing me anyway; I could barely even sit up, let alone stand.

A minute later, a nurse entered the room, and she smiled at me as soon as her eyes found mine.

"Good morning, Mr. Padilla," she greeted. Her voice sounded astonishingly similar to Jennifer Aniston's. "How are you feeling?"

"Uh." I shrugged. "Alright, I guess."

"Are you hungry at all? Tired?"

"No." I watched as she filled my IV with more water. At least, I thought it was water. "Can... can I ask what happened? Like, why I'm here?"

"Well, no one really knows for sure. We were hoping you'd remember."

She finished up and turned to me. She was a slightly overweight, young-looking woman with dark brown eyes and similar-colored hair.

She raised her eyebrows at me. 

"It sounds like you had a little too much to drink."

I bit my lip. "Huh?"

"Well." She walked to the other side of the room and opened the curtains all the way. I almost asked her not to. "All we know for sure is that your hotel neighbors heard a bunch of screaming and crashes in the middle of the night, so they contacted the front desk, who got into your room to find you passed out on the floor, and they obviously called an ambulance. But they think..."

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening slightly like she'd just revealed a secret she promised she wouldn't tell.

"What?" I pressed on, leaning forward.

"No, I-I should go get the doctor. It's not my business to say..."

"Say what?"

She took a deep breath and looked out the window.

"I guess I've said enough already. They..."

She sighed.

"They found a bunch of pills spilled all over your room. Mr. Padilla, they think you tried to kill yourself."

|||

An hour later, I found myself on that same hospital bed, my head in my hands, sweat staining every inch of my body.

"It's completely your choice, but we highly, highly recommend it," the doctor was saying, but I wasn't paying attention.

I felt my dad staring at me. I wished he would leave. I didn't wanna see him. I wanted to be alone. I wished I never would have ordered more booze last night.

"Anthony, what do you think?"

I glared at him. He was the one who never helped me with one decision throughout my whole childhood, and here he was, trying to help me with a decision I could easily make on my own.

"I think I was drunk," I said harsher than intended. "I think- no, I know I'm not suicidal, and I don't need to go to a mental hospital."

The doctor nodded. "Like I said, it is your decision, but staying for even a few days could make a major difference. If you would prefer instead of the phsyciatric clinic, we could arrange a therapist or-"

"Look, thanks for the help, but I can promise you I wasn't trying to kill myself. I probably just didn't feel well and was trying to take pills or something to help. This is all just a big misunderstanding."

I glanced over at my dad. He was looking down at his feet, his eyes droopy. I wondered if he really had been waiting here all night to make sure I was okay.

The doctor sighed. "I understand. I'm still going to have to ask your hospital back home to check up on you every once and a while, just to make sure. And you will have to stay here one more night, just to be extra cautious."

Then, the doctor left. I wished my dad would follow. But he didn't.

He sighed. "I talked to your mom last night."

"I know."

It was quiet for a while.

Then my dad said something that made my respect for him go through the roof.

"Look, I'm not gonna force you to like me, or even talk to me for that matter. I know you want me to leave you alone, and I will. But first I have to tell you that I am so sorry. And I promise I tried. God, I tried so hard. I'm not trying to make it sound like it was all your mom's fault though, because she did have every reason to try to keep you away from me. She didn't want you to grow up like me. I was horrible to her and you and I will never forgive myself for that. I did want to be a part of your life though, and you have no idea how happy I was when I saw your face outside my house yesterday. I'm so sorry, Anthony. I love you so much. I'm gonna leave you alone now, but I guess I have a promise to keep first, don't I?"

I found myself smiling at him.

"Your friend, Ian, told me to tell you that the next clue is hidden in your favorite song from high school."

And then he turned toward the door.

"Hey, dad?"

He stopped in his tracks, and I could sense the smile on his face before he even turned around.

"Yeah?"

I smiled. And it was the first genuine smile in a long time.

"I love you too."