Standing By

Let's Go

(Mitch)

I kicked my legs underneath me and to the side, effectively curling up in a ball in the restaurant booth. I couldn't concentrate on much of anything, couldn't focus to save my life. I couldn't even focus long enough to eat my dinner. I poked awkwardly at my grilled chicken with my fork, still unable to really get a good handle on doing things with my non-dominant hand. Damn wrist. Damn stairwell. All I succeeded in doing was flipping the chicken breast over. I stared at it blankly a minute. I didn't really want to even eat it. It didn't appear appetizing to me. Nothing had; I'd finally just closed my eyes and ordered what my finger had fallen on because I knew I had to eat. I had only had a salad for lunch and a banana for breakfast. I wasn't operating on much. So now I was trying to eat grilled rosemary chicken that barely kept my attention for more than a minute at a time.

I couldn't shake the disquiet feeling deep in my belly. I couldn't put my finger on it, but my nerves were all over the place. I had nothing to be nervous or apprehensive about. I was here, at home, in Arlington, with my dad and mom and sister, all healthy and well, for Christmas. I'd had a good holiday with them, gotten lots of presents, and I couldn't wait to use the gift card to my favorite clothes store in LA. I had no idea how Dad had managed to swing that. I was here in the Corner Cafe with two of my best friends in the world, one of who I was now kind of dating. Other than the brief Avi scare the other day—thank God he's still alive—I'd had a good Christmas.

But was it too good? Was I feeling guilty that, all in all, I'd had a good Christmas? 'Cuz I knew a lot of us hadn't. Avi was having a lousy Hanukkah, nearly dying and was in the hospital now. Oh my God, if he had died... no, no, can't think like that. Redirect.

I flipped a carrot over and chased it around my plate, starting to bury it under my rice. I could feel Kirstie's eyes watching me and measuring my intake.

Scott nudged me. "Mitchie. You sure you're OK? You've seemed down all evening. You sure you don't want me to cut your chicken up for you?"

I made a face. "Guess I'm not very hungry."

"You got to eat, Mitch," Kirstie told me. "You haven't had much all day. You can't start this again."

"Haven't been hungry all day," I countered, stabbing at the chicken as though it had done me a personal wrong.

Scott's arm slid around me, turning my head to look at him. "Talk to me, Mitchie. What's going on in that pretty head of yours? Why don't you feel hungry? Are you getting depressed?"

I shrugged helplessly. "I dunno, really. I just... feel, um... uneasy."
"How come?" Kirstie asked, fork halfway to her mouth.

"I dunno," I mumbled, rubbing at my face. "I feel... worried."

"About?" Scott prompted.

"Right now I'm worried that I don't know what I'm worried about!" I said frustratedly, throwing my fork down and watching it clatter off my plate and onto the floor. "God! What could I be worried about?"

Kirstie nibbled on her roll. "Avi?"

"Avi's fine, Mitch," Scott told me, patting my arm. "Close call, but we've talked to him. He's in the hospital. Ought to be discharged tomorrow, he said."

"Right...," I said slowly. "Hopefully. So. Shouldn't be Avi I'm subconsciously worried about."

"Tim?" was Kirstie's next suggestion.

I felt my heart speed up a little. God. Was it Tim I was worried about? We'd spoken the other day; he'd sounded stressed, but hanging in there. Poor guy had been through a lot lately with that stupid wife of his—her lies, her actions, her words, her accusations. His case. His—his hearing, his trial... poor Tim. If it were me in his shoes, I'd be a hot mess. Lord knows I'd been enough of a mess when Travis broke off our engagement, but at least he didn't accuse me of crimes. I'd been broken-hearted, had my world turned over, and had to piece myself back together, little by little, with help from my friends. How I'd've gotten through it without Scott and Kirstie by my side, I'd never know. How I could make it through anything without my best friends was unfathomable. They are my rocks.