medicine {h.s.}

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

may.

The rapping of knuckles on my bathroom door starts me only slightly. For once, I'm finally in my own bathroom after Harry and I had finally finished the work on it. I've joked with Harry that he only showed the initiative to get my bathroom in working order when it was only just the two of us living here, though I suppose I can't complain about it anyway. My bathroom is entirely functional now: shower, sink, bathtub, and toilet. I've resorted to using my own bathroom instead of what was the communal one. For the remainder of the time that Monty is still here, he'll be sharing the bathroom on the other end of the hallway with Harry. But once he's gone, the bathroom will be exclusively Harry's.

With such in mind, I find it odd that there would be someone on my area of the house. I do quite like that I have my own personal space of the house; a space that is my own. Still, I respond loudly enough to be heard through the door, "yeah?"

"I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving," Monty calls through the door, his voice hesitant as he speaks.

I don't answer right away. Instead I finish up peeing and flush the toilet. I walk over and open the door before I head back to the sink to wash my hands. "You have everything?" I question. I imagine I sound like his mother. My concern elicits a smile on his face, and the sight is enough to put a smile on my own. Ruth's been gone for a couple of days and now it's Monty's turn. I've been trying my best to keep my emotions at bay. At least while there are other people around. I don't want my own sadness to influence anyone from making the best choice for them. "Even if you don't, you can always come home."

Home is an odd word. For the first time in my life, this house has become my home. Growing up, I had this vision of what a home should be. I believed that it would be filled with a family and people who loved each other. Living here, I finally feel like I have a home around me. My fellow interns made this place the home I never thought it could be.

Television led me to believe that home has a set definition—it is the families living in them that are dysfunctional. I believed that a home should be bustling with people and life and love. Internally I am able to admit that it is not true, but for so long I've clung to this definition of what a home is and now I finally feel myself letting it go. My vision is being torn to shreds and I don't know how I feel about it. "I know that," Monty admits, nodding his head as he studies me. "Are you okay with all of this? I know you've been supportive, but it's not... you. You're not yourself."

Sometimes I hate that Monty is so observational. Since that initial conversation when he admitted that he would be moving out, I've tried my best to play the role of the supportive friend. Some days I feel like I can do it. Other days I feel that he is just lucky that I'm not wrapping my arms around his legs and begging him not to go. My emotions have been rather up and down about the whole thing, and rather impossible to control. On the one hand, I sort of understand this. Even though I'm not the one moving this is a huge lifestyle change for me, too. Their decisions impact my life too and I have the right to be sad about them. Only, it's not always a sad thing. Sometimes I remember that Ruth isn't leaving me out of malice; she's having a child. Monty doesn't want to spite me by moving out; he wants to take his relationship with his boyfriend to the next level. These are happy things. It's easy to get swept up in the emotional aspect of it all.

I'm not the only one feeling the loss. Harry and I have spent a lot of time sulking together—particularly when Monty isn't home. We both agreed we didn't want to guilt Monty into staying. Monty is pretty strong in his resolve. I doubt he would cancel his plans, but it would be shitty of us either way to make him feel guilty.

"I'll be okay," I admit, side-stepping the answer only slightly.

"Yeah?"

"I think so."