As soon as I walked into Roger's room, I felt Collins and Mimi's eyes inadvertently shifted to me.
Mimi stood up and gave me a hug. It was one of those hugs that you get when somebody's in the hospital. One of the ones that lasts too long because you're unsure of what's going to happen next. Mimi mumbled something that I didn't quite catch and put her face in my scarf. She sighed, smiled sadly, and sat back down next to Roger.
She looked as if she hadn't slept at all, not even a power nap. And as if she came straight from work to the hospital. She was wearing a torn pair of black leggings, a skirt, and on of Roger's rare sweaters. I noticed a rosary that was wrapped up tightly around her hand.
The doctor walked in, looking fresh and collected. Not like anybody here, might I add. His name was Dr. Scales.
"Good morning," he said, giving me a warm smile. I nodded my head, this wasn't exactly what I have in mind when I think of a good morning. "May I speak to Mr. Cohen for a moment?" Dr. Scales said, looking down and the clipboard. I stepped forward. "Outside, that is." he said, politely.
I don't know what made my feet move in the direction of the door, but they did.
I followed him into the room a little ways down the hallway. The room was smaller that the other waiting rooms, almost cramped in a sense. On two of the opposing walls, there were small couches on either wall. Crammed next to the door was a wastebasket, and directly in front of that was a large window, overlooking the busy city.
I just stood there. I think that Dr. Scales half expected me to sit down, or say "What's up Doc?" or something to that effect. I didn't.
"Before I start, I have to ask you a question." he began hesitantly. "For privacy reasons, of course." I nodded. "What's your relation to Mr. Davis?"
"I'm his roommate." I said quickly. The doctor raised his eyebrows slightly, and jotted something down on his clipboard.
"Okay. Well then. Mr. Davis has a severe case of dehydration and his T- cell count is one hundred and four." he said all in one breath. "To get his T-cell count back up, we can give him a stronger dose of Azidothymidine and Acyclovir right here. When he goes back, he'll also need to take Acyclovir in addition to the AZT. Acyclovir is just a newer, anti viral drug. And when paired with Azxidothymidine, it attacks viriods. And viriods are - "
"The smallest known particles that can replicate. I know all the terminology. I'm the one that takes care of Roger when he's sick. I know all this." I interjected. I hated everything being spelled out for me, even when it needed to be.
"That makes sense that you'd know all that...We'll also need to do a viral load test sometime after he wakes up -" he began.
"When will he be able to go home?" I asked.
I just wanted to go home, and lay down with him and pretend none of this ever happened. But I can't.
"At best, in a week. That's if he shows major improvement between now and then - if his T-cell count is up and he feels up to it. I'll be back in a little bit to check back in with him - I've got to schedule some regular tests and procedures to make sure that everything still checks out with him." Dr. Scales said. He was halfway out the door when he paused and stood awkwardly in the doorway. "This room is free to your personal use while Mr. Davis is in here." He walked back towards me. "Here's a key to get in and out of this room. Get some rest, Mr. Cohen. You're friend is going to be okay." Dr. Scales said walking out door.
I sat down on the floor in the corner and took off my glasses. I didn't expect Roger to be this sick. And I didn't have any money left after buying all the AZT. A measly fifty three dollars to my name, enough money for groceries for a month. I tried to add up the cost of the next round of AZT, and this new Acyclovir - they'd probably wipe out a whole paycheck, if not two. And then on top of that, all these tests and procedures had an amount -
"Mark, are you alright in there?"
It was Joanne. The Voice of Reason. She was like a female Collins, except she didn't go on about anarchy and her own theory of actual reality. She could tell me what to do, and -
Make everything better?
She opened the door a crack and peeked inside, offering me a weak smile. I put back on my glasses.
"I've got coffee. And a bagel. For you." she said, sliding into the room. She walked over me and sat down, putting a bag in between us. She handed me the coffee, an. "I'm sorry." she said. She shook her head in a way that made her brown curls shake slightly. "And I know that's the most awkward thing that I could say right now. But - "
I just sat there,sipping on the hot liquid that seemed to splash down my insides. I put the cup on the table.
We sat there in an awkward silence for a few moments. Outside of the window, you could hear the city going on as normal. It was like clockwork for everybody else. You could faintly hear cars and taxis beeping and people shouting. Up in here, it was like some kind of alternate universe, everything was different.
I took off my glasses once more and rested my head on my knees, facing Joanne. Today wasn't going to get any shorter, just sitting here in this room. I closed my eyes and exhaled. I didn't notice that I had been holding my breath.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Joanne offered. I battled the scales, whether or not I wanted to tell her I couldn't pay for shit, or that I thought that he could die here because of his T-cell count.
I shook my head no.
"I'm not going to let you stay in here all day. And Roger's probably going to wake up soon." she said. She stood up and held out both her hands. I sighed and took them, allowing her to help me up.
I said it'd be long. And next chapter I'm trying to make longer. Yeah. Thanks for reading!