And it was driving me mad.
Roger had been asleep for a couple of hours now. The doctor given him something to sleep. He also gave me a prescription to be filled for myself, saying that it was something I could probably use a little later. Whatever that was. I'm supposing that it was some kind of sedative, which normally I would have shied away from. But instead, I slipped it between the band of Collins' sweatpants and my skin.
I sat there and watched him, the rising and falling of his chest - it made it hard to fight off sleep.
"Hey Mark." Collins said. My head popped up. I wasn't in the loft, sitting at the cold table, clutching a cup of burnt coffee. I was in the hospital, hold Roger's hand, a needle in the translucent looking skin.
"How long have I been asleep?" I asked. I let go of Roger's hand and rubbed my temples.
"About an hour. Go home. Get some real sleep. It's been a long night," Collins suggested. " I called Mimi and Joanne, they're already here. Maureen's going to be here in a few hours. The traffic in New Jersey is 'bumpa ta bumpa' she told me."
I shook my head. That's Maureen for you. Slightly loud, obnoxious. Overdramatic at times. Correction, a lot of the time. Not that I have anything against her. But sometimes she can be too much. And that 'too much' I didn't want right now.
Collins offered me an encouraging hand, which I took. My hand was like a child's compared to his. And He held me in a comforting embrace for a minute. It felt nice being the one who wasn't calling the shots for once. I had forgotten how comforting Collins could be, since he started teaching again.
I let go sheepishly and scratched my head. I didn't want to leave Roger there, but Collins was just as good as I was. I walked out the door and stopped hesitantly.
"Go Mark. I'll stay awake. Don't worry." Collins said. I guess he saw me stop too. "Everything will be okay." he offered. It seemed more like a question though, but it still was comforting nonetheless.
Once I got out of the hospital, I raced back to the loft in fucking cold. I'd made it here in record breaking time, considering that I jogged back with no inhaler and no bike. But now I was both physically and mentally tired. This just wasn't my day.
Standing in the bathroom, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. The person in front of me looked tired and warn out. Like somebody who has gone to war and leaves his soul back at home. A robot of some sort perhaps? I peeked my head out of the bathroom and looked down the hallway. The cheap, two dollar clock illuminated the numbers seven thirty-one.
That means that I've been here for twenty nine minutes.
I put some eyedrops in my eyes and walked out of the bathroom. The stains from last night were still on the floor, but it wasn't exactly time to be Miss Suzy Homemaker. I went over to Roger's room and grabbed a few of his shirts and a pajama pants. Not that we have pajama pants here, that is. Whatever we sleep in either consists of something of Collins' or anything that has too many holes or is too small to wear in public.
He'd probably want to change out of that damn hospital gown, anyways - no matter what it was he changed into.
I grabbed my scarf and the spare spare key and my bag. I looked back at the clock.
Seven thirty two and I was out the door.
When I got to the floor that Roger was on, it was like my body stopped running on automatic.
The sudden realization that Roger could die right here, right now, in the fucking hospital hit me.
And there wasn't a single thing that I could do about it.