Where can I turn?
'Cause I need something more
Surrounded by uncertainty, I'm so unsure
Tell me why I feel so alone
'Cause I need to know to whom do I owe
He has a right to be pissed. He has a right to be upset and confused and all the other things he feels but can't identify. He knows she's not his – never was, probably never will be – but that doesn't mean he wants to share what little piece of her he does have. And what had come over her anyway? Kissing Gates, the smarmy bastard. In the hospital no less. He can't figure out what to make of it.
Alright, he sort of does. It's crap. It's utter crap, that's what it is.
He doesn't deserve this. He's never been anything but a friend; he's never been anything but patient. In the movies – not real, he knows, but still – the good guy gets the girl. Now, he hasn't always been the best good guy, but he's tried. He redeemed himself a bit. He's focused on the job; he's been a good doctor.
Correction: He is Doctor Ray Barnett, and he is great.
He loves his life, make no mistake. But there's this part of him that dies just a little when he sees her and realizes he can't have her. At times like that he's glad of the brick wall of confidence his life with his band had built up. What is left of it keeps him from breaking down.
And right now he has Katey. Who is cute and funny and confident and reminds him of Neela, if he squints hard enough. And he's decided he can live with that for now.
For now being the key phrase. It's always been for now. This doctor thing will be a good plan B, for now. I'll cancel a few gigs, for now. All I need is for her to be happy…for now.
At the end of another long, long day, when he passes the reception and says his good-byes, he tells her, almost out of reflex: "Later, roomie."
It causes him to stop dead in his tracks. He turns around and tries to say something, but nothing comes out. Which makes him feel self conscious, which he really doesn't need right now. So…great.
He finally manages to get out a faint: "I…"
She shakes her head, embarrassed, and says: "It's, er, it's okay."
He sighs, relieved, and waves as he starts leaving again.
"Have fun on your date, by the way." She calls after him.
He flinches and replies a forced "Yeah, I will."
When he's finally, finally home he pulls off his clothes, drops himself onto his bed and prays never to wake up.
It sound like a good plan to him: Stay comatose, for now.