Pieces

8.The Second Piece

"Why are we going to the doctor's again?" I yelled over the loud noise of the streets, as I tried to keep up with Antonio. "Will you please slow down?" I complained, annoyed.

He turned around so fast, I almost banged into his olive green polo shirt. Regaining my composure, I frowned, looking up at him. "Because he's probably the most stable person you could talk to about this right now. I was going to take you to his house, but... I... um... I don't know his parents would react. They're really shaken up right now..." He said in a small voice. 

I nodded in understanding, while awkwardly patting his back, in an attempt to comfort him. "And.. I mean, he did spent the last few days there so... you know, high chance of finding whatever you need to there... I mean, where else could he have left it?" 

I nodded, uncertainly. It seemed highly unlikely for Marc to leave whatever he had to at a place so obvious for me to find. But then again, he could have done it thinking I would never look there since I wouldn't expect him to leave it at such an obvious plays. Marcus and his mind games... you just never knew what to expect. 

And me being here, in his hometown, with his best friend, on the exact same street which his parents must have used to drive him to the hospital, just a week and a half after we'd disussed our plans for a trip to Leh, was definitely not something I'd seen coming my way.

"But wouldn't he have said something over the phone?" I asked, as we resumed walking, my green checked shirt sticking to my skin under the hot Sun. 

"I spoke to the receptionist, you know." 

Neither of us spoke for at least the next four minutes. By the time we reached the hospital, we were both perspiring heavily and entering the cool atmosphere of the hospital gave me some relief.

"Red as a tomato." I heard him comment from behind me. 

I turned to face him, confused. "What?"

"Marcus and you share the whole red-as-a-tomato-after-a-day-out-in-the-Sun-thing. I used to tease him about it. It annoyed him to no extent." He explained, unable to keep a small smile from his face.

I smiled back at him. "Mr. Lachowski?" A voice interrupted our little moment. 

"That's me." He took a step towards the receptionist, who was a small, stout lady behind a large oak desk, her head bent over a couple of fat files. 

"Dr. Coleman's waiting for you. You ready to go?" She asked, finally acknowledging our presence, no hint of friendliness from her face.

Antonio looked at me, as if asking for my permission, to which I simply nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat. 

As the receptionist led us down the busy hallway, illuminated with bright white lights, all I could think of was what I would be gathering today. This could be it. If Antonio was right, he could have left something here at the hospital, which the doctor would give me, and then it;d all be over. 

For some reason, the thought that I may now get what I was here for suddenly didn't seem as appealing as it had before. Because holding it in my own hands, would make it real. Would make this all real. Up until now, I'd thought that I would wake up one day and that this would all be over. That I would talk to Marcus again. That things would go back to the way they were. I was in denial, no kidding.

And I wanted it to stay that way.

But that wasn't the only reason.

There was something else.

There was just something about this place. It felt like I fit in here. Like I belonged here. It felt like I should've been born here. As if this is where I was supposed to be.