Mark's POV.
I sat huddled in the front seat of the car, as Collins drove us to Santa Fe, dodging through the traffic and screaming profanities at anyone who got in our way. But I couldn't care less. I was so worried about my poor Josh, who was in hospital suffering a head injury. I still wished I never sent Roger away because I needed him now so badly. Collins looked over to my side, a worried expression on his face.
"Hang on, buddy. We're almost there," he said, reassuringly.
"Thanks Tom," I replied, bracing myself a little. I couldn't even imagine how he would look, with all those hospital tubes stuck into him and stuff. I gulped deeply as Collins turned into a huge building with harsh fluorescent lights on the inside and outside of it.
"Okay, we're here," he said, parking his 1996 Ford Escort into the hospital car park.
I unclipped my seat belt. "Thanks Collins," I mumbled as I got out of the vehicle and stared at the building. It had an old St. Maria's Hospital sign on the front as an old, flickering blue light with cobwebs on it with a giant red cross next to it. Collins and I walked into the sliding doors and headed towards the reception desk, where a middle-aged woman with glasses and platinum blonde hair sat at the desk, filing her nails.
"Excuse me; I'm looking for my son please? His name is Joshua Angel Cohen-Davis," I asked her breathlessly.
The woman looked at me over the top of her glasses and tapped on her computer, cracking bubblegum loudly as she did so. I pinched my face anxiously, annoyed by her constant cracking and watching the clock as precious minutes slipped by like years. Finally she looked at me and said, "Room 205, just next to the cafeteria."
"Thank you," answered Collins and me at the same time. We bulldozed into the elevator, went up to the second floor, and found room 205 just around the corner from the cafeteria. I froze as I looked through the glass window and saw my baby boy lying on that hospital bed, his head wrapped up in bandages, an oxygen mask on his face, several tubes stuck all over his body, his leg up in a sling and a heart monitor next to him beeping constantly. I just stood there, with Collins on my right, wringing my hands and trembling in fear. Oh my God. How the fuck did all this happen?
"Mr Cohen-Davis, I presume?" asked a deep, warm voice from my right. I turned around to face a youngish man, presumably thirty, with thick brown hair, brown eyes, and a long white lab coat. I nodded silently.
"Dr. Greg Hitch. Pleasure to meet you. I'm Josh's surgeon," he said, extending his hand.
"Nice meeting you too," I replied, shaking his hand. "This is my friend, Tom Collins. He drove me here." I gestured to Collins, who shook the doctor's hand after me.
Dr. Hitch smiled half-heartedly at both of us. "We've just performed surgery on him. We've fixed up his leg and patched his head together. Thankfully, he hasn't lost too much blood, but that was a pretty nasty, deep gash on his skull, so we just finished the surgery not too long before you got here."
I struggled to breathe, while my lips trembled. "Will he….will he be okay, Doctor?" I barely whispered. Dr. Hitch sighed deeply, a sympathetic look in his eyes.
"I can't tell you for sure, Mr. Cohen-Davis. Considering the extent of his injuries, I mean……I've had patients with severe head injuries who have either died on the table or just two days later. And this poor boy is on morphine because he was in so much pain. But please, don't be alarmed. I'm not trying to scare you at all. I'm just, well, stating the facts for you. But I'm very hopeful for him. I can tell he's a fighter."
I nodded. "Yes he is Dr. Thank you so much," I mumbled, wiping away the tears that slipped down my cheek. Collins put an arm around my shoulder and whispered in his warm, deep voice. "See? Don't you worry too much about him, Marko-boy. That boy's stronger than steel. He'll make it through."
I smiled at him through my tears. "Thank you Collins. Thank you so much for coming here with me."
Collins smiled back. "Well, hello? What are best friends for, huh?" he said as he pulled me into a hug. I turned around to face Dr. Hitch. "Thank you so much Dr. Hitch," I said, to which he responded with a brighter smile. I glanced at the clock in the hallway, which read 6 o'clock. "Can I please, just…..sit with him for a while?"
He nodded. "Sure you can. Just don't move him too much. He really needs his rest." I smiled at him. "I'll be in my office down the hall if you need me."
"Thanks," I said to him as he turned and walked away to his office. Collins turned me to face him and said:
"Hey buddy, why don't you go in first? I'll go get a coffee or somethin'."
I smiled at him. "Sure. Thanks Col." After he left, I slowly pushed the cold metal door open and stepped in gingerly. I gulped as I looked upon my poor Josh, his young boy so frail on that bed. I sat next to him and took his hand in mine, holding it tightly.
"Yeshula? Baby, can you hear me?" I whispered. No reply. Only deep breaths in and out through the oxygen mask as his chest moved up and down. I felt more tears rolling out of my eyes, but I didn't bother wiping them up. I brought his hand up to my face and kissed it. "I know you can. I'm so sorry, Yeshula. I didn't mean to hurt you like this. I should never have sent your Dad away. Look how much I'm missing him now. Looks how much I'm missing you now. Please come back to us Joshy, please. I love you so much…" I kissed his hand again and cried more. "Please, Joshy. We're nothing without you. I'm nothing without you……" I trailed off. I couldn't think of anything else to say to him. "Please come back to us. We need you so much." I pressed his hand to my face and cried softly. I wanted so badly to see Roger, but I just couldn't think what to say to him when I did. No way in hell would he want to talk to me after what I made him do. But that's fine. I deserve it anyway. Right now, I just wanted him to be here with me and our son.
Roger's POV.
I ran into the foyer of the St. Maria's hospital, totally ignoring the receptionist, and flew into the elevator. Fuck, I didn't even know where I was going. Ah whatever, I'd figure it out. I went up to the second floor of the building and walked down the corridor looking for Josh, but I didn't find him. Exhausted, I went to the cafeteria and slumped down into a plastic chair, trying to catch my breath.
"Oh, so you finally decided to show up," said a familiar, gruff voice from behind.
I got up and turned to find my old friend there. "Hey Collins!" I yelled, grabbing him into a huge hug. "I'm so glad you're here."
"Well, somebody had to drive Marko-boy here," he retorted, grinning at me. "How you been, man?"
"Oh, okay," I replied, casting my eyes to the floor. Collins stepped back and looked at me.
"How'd you know about….?" He asked as he tossed his empty coffee cup into the trash can.
"The bartender guy at Moe's Bar told me when I went for a beer," I replied. "Said that Josh came there today looking for me, then suddenly got hit by some asshole on a joyride and was brought here. I just ran here like a fucking lunatic escaping a mental asylum." Collins chuckled at me.
"Ahhh, the power of love." I nodded, shoving my hands deep into the pockets of my leather jacket.
"How is he, Tom?" I mumbled.
Collins bit his lip. "He's had a fractured leg and a crack in his skull, both of which have been fixed up with surgery. But Dr. Hitch didn't make it clear whether he was gonna be okay or not. Guess that's a big, gaping question mark above his head, huh?"
I gasped and felt my knees go week. I grabbed onto my chair for support. "Oh, fuck," I muttered, fuming at myself for letting Mark just shove me out of our house. Fuck, I should've just apologized and cleared all this shit up. Maybe then all this wouldn't have happened to Josh.
"Why don't you go see him? He's in Room 205," asked Collins, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I gulped, my heart suddenly leaping to my throat. "Sure, but Mark? I mean, how am I gonna…..?"
Collins stopped me. "Look, I know things are a little rough between you bitches, but I don't care. Right now, the most important fact is that your son is in a dire condition and he needs you to be there for him."
I blinked. Man, kudos to Collins for always having philosophical, eye-opening answers. I nodded at him and walked into the room. I opened the door and saw Mark sitting on the side of the bed, holding Josh's hand close to his face and sobbing quietly. My stomach churned as I watched my poor son stuck inside and out with tubes, his head bandaged and his leg in a sling. I so badly wanted to throw my arms around my Marky and hold him close, but I was so fucking scared to face him. I walked quietly to the other side of the bed and stood there. Mark suddenly became aware of my presence and lifted his head to face me. My heart just broke when I saw his face stained with tears, stains on his glasses and his lips quivering. We just stared at each other for the longest time, not knowing what the fuck to say. Finally, I sat down on the metal chair and took Josh's other hand into my own, squeezing it.
"Hey there, little buddy," I whispered as I ran my fingers through his hair. "It's gonna be okay now. Dad's here. Your Aba's here too. We're all here for you. Don't you worry. Everything's gonna be just fine." I could feel my voice breaking and a single tear running down my face, but I didn't care. All I knew was; my son was in the hospital. And he needed us to be there for him at all costs.
There. Maybe this will ease the suspense a bit. Update: my cold is a bit better, but now my throat is acting up and making it hard for me to talk without coughing. Oh well, such is life……