Adam sits in the waiting room and wonders about Lawrence's fate in the aftermath of their nightmare.
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The Waiting Game
For days, Adam wondered if Lawrence was going to make it. The pain in his shoulder paled in comparison to his fear that Lawrence may die at any moment.
Adam had been found by a man who had been hired by the sewage commission to make his monthly inspection rounds. The man – Jason – had stumbled upon Lawrence, unconscious at the base of a ladder he had been too weak to climb. Lawrence's trail of blood had led him to Adam in an abandoned wing of the plant. Even though he had lost track of time, and the wait felt like a lifetime, Adam was freed within an hour from the moment he had been left in the dark to die.
He remembered it all too vividly. The panic had nearly driven him insane. Considering the circumstances, he had been given the right to panic, to go ballistic. Who wouldn't? He was only human. What person in his position wouldn't be traumatized when they had barely lived a day in their lives and now it was over?
It had been nearly two weeks since then, and although he had been traumatized for life, Adam knew he'd be all right in the end. But his healing had been impeded by his fear. He couldn't eat. He couldn't sleep. Not with Lawrence in the hospital. Not when Lawrence had yet to regain consciousness.
He was alive, but just barely. His heart had stopped five times during the first week, and all his blood transfusions had equaled more than twice his own amount.
It was something Adam didn't want to think about.
He had been released from the hospital two days after he was admitted, and he had had days to contemplate where he would go from here. His slow descent into hell had landed him in hell, only to be plucked from the clutches of certain death, and now, he had another chance. The proverbial fork in the road had never before held so much meaning to him. He could go back, turn things around if he chose, and those choices would come from a heart mesmerized by the wonder that was life, not burdened by it.
There were many things he had given up instantly – smoking, his job as an invasive photographer, and his suicidal thoughts were the first three things on the list.
He wanted to stop lying, to start feeling. There were so many things he wanted to believe in. Love. God. Truth. Beauty. Miracles.
He found himself praying for Lawrence.
He had never prayed before his life.
He found himself in tears over Lawrence on a daily basis. He had learned that with life, with appreciation, comes pain, and never before had he cried over anyone.
Lawrence couldn't die. Not this way. Not now. Not after they had been saved. There were so many things Adam needed to say to him. So many things that he couldn't bottle up inside and live with, never having said them to Lawrence.
The uncertainty of Lawrence's fate tormented him constantly.
But this Adam had vowed – if Lawrence did survive, he wouldn't keep his feelings to himself. He would bare his soul to Lawrence and let the pieces fall where they may.
The potential reward was well worth the risk. Wasn't that the entire point of the hell he had endured? They had endured? To take the chance because he may regret it if he doesn't?
He already had enough regrets on his résumé to do him for this lifetime, and he'd be damned if this one would be added to that list. Maybe it was selfish to think he'd want to leave his family for him, maybe it would be too much for him to contemplate and Adam would lose him forever, even as a friend, a kindred soul who had been there with him as they fumbled blindly in death's dark shadow.
He was painfully aware of his breathing for the first time in years, and he felt the constant thudding of his pulse in his healing wound. A tight ball of fear and despair coiled somewhere in his stomach, gripping him in a crushing wave of emotions he didn't know he was capable of. He'd surely die without Lawrence, he knew he would. The ludicrousness of his thoughts wasn't lost on him. How could he feel this way about a man he hadn't known for more than a week? He had been a 'job' after all. That's how he started out, anyway. Then he was his cellmate, and now, he was his lifeline, his salvation, the only one who would ever have the slightest inkling as to how he felt.
Lawrence couldn't die. The waiting was killing him. He wanted to see him again, to be reassured that he was going to be okay. He didn't want to know if they didn't expect him to make it. Not yet. He wanted to bask in the blissful ignorance that everything would be all right. It was a refrain Lawrence had repeated even in the direst of times. Now, it was his turn to reciprocate the song, but he knew that where Lawrence had been convinced of their truth, he couldn't say the same.
The clock on the wall kept ticking, seeming to take him further away from Lawrence that it brought them closer. Time was a funny thing, and no matter how long he waited for him to get better, he wouldn't give up hope. Hope is what had saved him. Even in his agony, Lawrence had never given up. He would do well to emulate his example, and as he sat in silent torment, he knew now was the perfect opportunity to practice.
Oblivious to the world around him and tears streaming unrestrained down his face, Adam humbly closed his eyes and prayed.