Standing By

Spending The Night

(Avi)

Pleasantly surprised at my doctor's promptness and hospital efficiency for once, I found myself getting discharged mid-morning. Jessica came in with discharge paperwork and went over post-hospitalization instructions, slipping me a folded-up piece of paper underneath it.

"So he's following up with his primary care physician in LA on the second?" Mom said, studying the future appointment sheet.

"What's that?" Dad reached over and plucked the paper I was reading right out of my hand.

"Hey," I complained, trying to reclaim my own paperwork. "I was reading that."

"Mr. Kaplan—," Jessica began, looking slightly alarmed.

"I'll give it back in a minute, calm down," Dad told both of us, knocking my hand off of it. "Why does Avriel have an appointment with a doctor Sharon Appleby at a psychiatric clinic in LA?"

"It's mine, Dad, let me see it," I told him, irritated he was going through my personal medical information like it was all his right as a parent. Sure it was—if I chose to divulge it!

Jessica reached down and took the future appointment log from Mom, the psychiatric information from Dad, discharge instructions from Josh, advice and medical articles from Esther, and prescription information from Darien and handed it all back to me. "With all due respect, this is Avi's private medical information. It is ultimately his information."

Mom rolled her eyes. "Jessica, we are on his HIPAA forms that he has personally signed."

"OK, fine, I'll ask him then." Dad turned to me. "Avriel, why do you have an appointment with a psychiatrist?"

"I dunno, let me read my papers," I grumbled. In other words, mind your own business!

"Don't fuss at me," Dad admonished me.

"Don't mean to fuss, but it is mine," I rephrased things, trying to turn away from him to shield the paperwork with my body. "Please give me a chance to read it."

"Are you sad?" Mom asked me, now trying to reach for it herself.

Right then, I was more irritated than anything else. "Mom—"

"Mrs. Kaplan, Avi had a near-death experience. It is customary to follow up with psych following a near-death experience because nearly dying is traumatizing," Jessica told her.

"True," Esther muttered. "Traumatized us too."

"No kidding." Josh winked at me. "And don't you forget what I told you earlier."

I made a face, a hand flying up to my ample beard he'd threatened on a daily basis since he'd saved my life pulling me out of the river and giving me artificial respiration when I'd stopped breathing, which apparently was extremely difficult due to my beard. Now he wanted me to shave it, and said that if I didn't, he'll shave me himself. Now, I knew I did owe my life to him; if it hadn't been for him, I'd have drowned and been dead, but still. It's my beard! I love my beard; I'd been growing it for months now! It's my trademark! I've had it pretty much for my entire career with Pentatonix! I've always been 'the bearded guy with the low voice'.  I didn't want to lose it! "Jo-osh," I complained, letting a lip poke out in a pout.

"You know how hard it was to save your life?" he teased. "I had to fish you out of the river and then I had a real hard time with artificial respiration 'cuz of all that beard of yours!"

"I like my beard," I said petulantly. "I don't want to shave it."

"And I didn't want fight with it to save your life, but I did," Josh countered as Mom ordered us to stop bickering like children.