Author's notes:
Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've been waiting for, the unluckiest character of the story (maybe)... BEEEEERNIE!
Ps. while talking about the story plot with a friend of mine, we've concluded that Bernie is Italian ('cause he used to run a restaurant before the pandemic, you know, we love stereotypes) and that his full name is Bernardo Mocaccino. You're welcome.
CHAPTER VI
Thomas tapped his fingers on the steering wheel of his car, distractedly humming the tune of the song passing on the radio – he didn't even know the name of the singer, but it was the latest hit and therefore over played by almost every radio station. His gaze travelled around the block where he was parked, trying not to think too much about the living condition of the people there – the buildings were so packed that they seemed to be built one over another, with millions of tiny balconies crowding each side, looking at each other like threatening eyes. On those dirty balconies, several washing lines were loaded with washed out clothes, giving some colours to the scraped shape of the buildings. There were people laying on the street corners, asking for some money to the rare wealthier passers-by, and a long line of men, women and children was waiting outside the soup kitchen for a warm meal – that place really worked non-stop.
As the doors opened and a tired-looking family stepped in after hours of line, a man came out and spotted Thomas waiting on the street side. He offered him a crocked smile and limped to his car, leaning to an old walking stick.
"Hi Bernie," Thomas bent over the passenger seat to open the door for him and looked as the other man dropped himself on the car seat, "how are you doing?"
"Hey, Thomas," he fastened his seatbelt trying to keep his left leg stretched in front of him, "this little bitch is still giving me some pain, especially at night, but it'll go better with the summer," he said with a thick Italian accent.
"Yeah, it'll be better in a couple of months," Thomas said, without specifying why – within the summer he was probably going to lose the sensitivity completely and wouldn't be able to use that leg anymore, but there was no need to say that now – "thank you for coming to the hospital today, Alexander really wants to talk to you."
"Actually, I'm a little nervous," Bernie kept looking outside the car windows, "I've been in line the whole morning to take a good shower, in case he wanted to offer me a job, you know."
"Don't get your hopes up," Thomas sighed, "I think he only wants to apologize, but he's not the most humble person in the world so I'm just hoping he won't do something extremely stupid."
"Is he a friend of yours?"
"No, he's just a patient." Was he?
"Don't worry, Tom, you know how I feel about it – I didn't want to put you in trouble to begin with, and this dude has done what everyone would've," Bernie said bitterly, "I won't hide I'm disappointed, but the fact that he asked to talk to me is already something – he reckons I'm a real person, ya know."
"What do you mean? You are a real person," Thomas was puzzled.
"To you? Yes, cause you're used to relate to sickness and misfortunes because of your job," he explained, "to many others I'm only a homeless person, a beggar, an annoyance, a dirty stain in their perfect life, something to avoid when they walk on the streets. And it'll be even worse when I'll be in a wheelchair – people never care to look beyond someone's situation and know the real person."
"I know," Thomas's knuckles had turned white from his clenching the steering wheel, but he didn't let Bernie see how upset he was – damn Hamilton, this shouldn't have gone this way.
"Anyway, he wants to apologize and that's enough for me – it gives me back some dignity."
"He's a good person."
"I hope so."
When they arrived at the hospital Thomas escorted Bernie to the seventh floor, where orthopaedics was; his plan was to introduce the visitor and then wait in the corridor, keeping an eye on Room Eighteen just in case Hamilton said something unpredictable and Bernie chocked him – Thomas was sure many people had that desire after about ten minutes in Hamilton's room.
However, as soon as he crossed the door, Thomas saw something he thought he'd never see – Alexander was gesticulating broadly while telling some funny story, he had a bright smile on his face and his audience, nurse Eleonor and Philip, were laughing so hard that they actually needed to wipe away some tears from time to time. Thomas had never seen Hamilton being that friendly with anyone, the moment was so precious he almost felt bad to interrupt it.
"Good afternoon Hamilton, I see your mood has improved today," Thomas smirked, leaning on the door frame.
"Thomas," Alexander's eyes seemed brighter than the previous days, "Philip came here this morning and we've bet on who's the best orator in the hospital; well, let's just say that Eleonor is going to vote for me, am I right?"
"I'll think about it," Eleonor winked and left the room, dragging Philip away with her.
Alexander's smile cracked a little when he registered Thomas's anxious face and he seemed to suddenly notice that he was not dressed for work.
"Excuse me, but are you my visitor today?" he rose an eyebrow.
"You wish, Hamilton," Thomas let out a laughter, "I'm already seeing too much of you every day to come visit you during my days off."
"What's up then?"
"I've brought you someone," Thomas turned to Bernie, who straightened up and walked through the door, trying not to limp.
Alexander immediately sobered up and glanced at Thomas, silently asking him to leave them alone. Then he turned to Bernie and offered him an hesitant smile and his hand, shaking Bernie's with decision.
Thomas walked out and waited in the corridor, he was out of earshot so he couldn't know what the two of them were talking about; the good thing was that Bernie seemed to instantly like Hamilton – how was it even possible? However, Jefferson was slightly relieved by knowing that they wouldn't kill each other, at least. Then, something unimaginable happened: Bernie stood up from his chair and hugged Alexander, casting him a huge smile before walking back to Thomas. Thomas was now completely thrown off – what was that for?
"So, how did it go?"
"You were right, he's a good person," Bernie followed him in the elevator and leaned on the wall to ease the pain in his leg, "he didn't have jobs to offer though."
"Did he really apologize?"
"Yeah, like, a hundred times," Bernie chortled, "he asked me to stop by now and then, I think he hasn't got many friends."
"No," Thomas cursed himself he didn't notice it before, "there's only a man – I think he's a sort of guardian – who brings him books and stuff from home; and he talks on the phone with a French guy."
"Yup, when I hugged him goodbye he said 'finally, another hug person' – from what you'd told me I though he was an asshole, but in fact he's kinda sweet."
Thomas nodded and walked to his car, opening the door for Bernie and then jumping in on the driver seat – Hamilton, sweet? A hug person? He suddenly doubted of his judging skills. Was it possible that Hamilton and him had only got off with the wrong foot?
"Anyway, he really thinks highly of you," Bernie added carefully, "he's said only nice things about you."
"Has he, really?"
"He might have call you a 'dickhead' a couple of times, but it's obvious that he likes you."
Thomas snickered and changed the topic – he didn't want to spend all day talking about Hamilton; also, Bernie seemed to be extremely happy at the moment, so they stopped by Starbucks to get some coffee and chat before Thomas had to drive back home.
Once alone, he couldn't help but admit that the day had been extremely interesting; he'd learned some important facts about Hamilton that weren't really helping him get his mind off of him. Damn it.
Alexander couldn't wait to go home. Now that he was able to move the upper part of his body again it was a little better, but he really needed a change of air. Fortunately, his knee surgery was scheduled for the following day and that meant that he only had another week to endure; unfortunately, he was freaking out about it – the first time he'd had surgery he'd been unconscious, but this time he was only going to be drugged (he'd actually tried to bribe the nurses into giving him a very strong dose of morphine so that he could sleep the whole time, but they'd simply laughed him off).
He felt now comfortable with almost every nurse at the hospital and he had Philip when he wanted to talk or play chess... however, he couldn't deny to be extremely relieved when he saw Thomas entering his room the night before the surgery.
"Thomas, thank god, I think I'm having a heart attack," Alexander waved for him to come closer, "please, drug me?"
"As much as I'd love to listen to all the silly things you'd say under drugs, I'm afraid I cannot start giving you morphine... thirteen hours before the surgery," Thomas answered, checking his wristwatch and sitting next to Alex's bed.
"Wait, if you're here for the night, that means that you won't be the one attending to me before and after the surgery," Alexander started fidgeting nervously in his bed, "what if something goes wrong?"
"Darlin', it won't be me who'll perform the surgery anyway," Thomas suddenly remembered what Bernie had told him about Alexander feeling lonely and gently put his hand on Hamilton's, "you need to relax, it's just a knee surgery – nothing bad can happen."
"Do you promise?" Alexander clasped Thomas's hand for a moment – his fingers were frozen but his palm was sweaty.
"I do," Thomas smiled gently and got up, leaving Alex's hand, "ring if you need anything, I'll be here in a blink, OK?"
"Thanks, Thomas."
"Try to get some rest."
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep," Alexander confessed weakly, "I know it's stupid, but I'm scared as hell."
Thomas felt his heart ache at the sight – who would've believed that Alexander was actually afraid of something? He'd always looked so strong and self-confident that Thomas was amazed by how cute he sounded when he let his guard down for a moment. He didn't want to ruin that moment.
"It's not stupid," Thomas checked the clock again and glanced at the corridor – everything seemed quiet – "I'll ask Alice to do me a favour for once and check on some of my patients as well, I'm staying here with you tonight."
"Really?"
"Sure," Thomas shrugged, trying to sound casual, as if he always spent the whole night shift with a single patient just because said patient was scared of surgery, "I'll be back in ten," and disappeared.
Alexander desperately tried to relax, but he couldn't do it. After a while he heard Thomas's voice again, but it seemed to come from afar – it was muffled, like if he was hearing it from underwater. There was also another noise that grew louder and louder, it was a sort of a whistle that was making his mind go blank with fear.
"Alexander, can you hear me? I'm here with you, just breathe sweetheart."
He was breathing, but the air seemed not to come to his lungs, his heart was beating so fast he was now completely sure he was going to die.
"Listen to the sound of my voice, darlin', you're just having a panic attack," Thomas was talking very slow, his tone low and calming "close your eyes and focus on my voice, breathe in slowly – good – now out, very slowly – you're doing great."
After some time, Alex could actually feel the air in his lungs again and his heartbeat started to slow down to something normal. Thomas voice sounded closer too.
"Can you speak, hon?"
"Y-Yes," Alex heard his voice croaking out an answer as if it was someone else's.
"Great, let's talk about something nice... tell me about your childhood, 'bout some happy memory," Thomas said gently, trying to make him talk, "come on, I'm here."
"When I was little we had a place in Nevis and we used to go there every summer," Alex started narrating, his voice steadier and steadier, "it was my grandmother's house and I loved to go there because it was so different from New York, you know, there's so much space there and everything seems smaller than the city, but also wider – the ocean is limitless and there is green everywhere."
"It seems lovely," Thomas smiled reassuringly, nodding him to go on.
"It is. One day I was at the beach with my grandma and I saw something shining under the water, so I dived in and I found this huge seashell – it was a chank shell actually and my grandma said that the spirit of the sea had offered it to me," Alexander giggled and opened his eyes, "I spent the rest of the summer claiming that I could control the ocean, but I guess in the end I wasn't really the chosen one."
"Believe me, I think that if you really try there's nothing you can't control – water included," Thomas winked and offered him a glass, "speaking of which, I think you might be thirsty."
Alexander accepted the cup with shaky hands and sipped the water, thinking about his childhood.
"We sold the house the year my parents got sick," he added, a sad tone in his voice, "but the money weren't enough to save them."
"I'm sorry, Alexander," Thomas put the cup away and took Hamilton's hand again, taking advantage of the moment to check his pulse - professional deformation - "how are you feeling now?"
"Better, I haven't had a panic attack in years, but I guess hospitals simply bring the worst out of me," he admitted, sighing pitifully.
Without even thinking, Thomas suddenly moved closer and carefully took Alexander in his arms; it seemed like if words weren't enough to express how much he wanted to comfort him, how much he wanted Alex to stop suffering for a moment. He felt Alexander stiffen for a second, but then he leaned on Thomas's chest, returning the hug with an arm and relaxing slightly.
"I'm sorry," Thomas drew away, but Alexander held him close.
"Please, can we stay like this just for a moment?"
"Are you that scared?" Thomas teased, but moved closer again.
"Yup," Alexander giggled, "and then, the choice was between you and Mr Eliot – I'm not that bold to go night-hugging with vampires."
"He's scary."
"As hell."
"Ok, I know you were dying to touch me from the first day and that all this panic attack scene was only an excuse to do it, but now get your sweaty hands off me and try to get some sleep, darlin'."
"Fuck you, Jefferson."
Thomas chuckled and gently moved away from Hamilton's grip, sitting on the hospital uncomfortable visitors chair again – it was going to be a long night.
More notes:
All right, so Bernie turned out to be a nice person; very huggish (again: stereotypes, but I'm Italian so I can do it) and he seems to like Hamilton. Do you think you'll be seeing more of him in the story? Or should I just leave him alone?