Roger waited a few minutes after his friends had left. When he felt certain they'd gone, he went to the bathroom. April's blood still stained the tub. His stomach twisted when he saw it. He opened the drawer where they usually kept the drugs. Nothing.
Roger went to the bedroom and felt around under the mattress. Nothing. He felt tears of frustrated grief rising to his eyes. The nightstand drawers were empty. Roger dug around in his drawer in the dresser. Nothing. He hesitated and went to the closet, searching the pockets and purses. Still he was empty-handed.
The morning sun poked through the windows. He needed a fix, now, before he had to go to the loft. His search grew more frantic. Roger opened a few more drawers, not bothering to shut them behind him. He rummaged through the kitchen drawers and cabinets, under the sink, under all the couch cushions.
Desperate, Roger returned to the bathroom. The tears now dropped down his face. He yanked open the drawers. Makeup, tampons, creams and lotions. One drawer was nearly empty. The drawer they kept the condoms in, though they seldom bothered with using them. A piece of paper caught Roger's eye.
Roger,
I'm sorry. I got tested. Baby, we got AIDS.
I love you,
April
He read the note again and again, not believing a word of it. His head shook as the tears streamed down his face. His hands shook as he carried it to the living room. Roger set the letter carefully on the table and went to the kitchen. He found a nearly full bottle of aspirin and a bottle of vodka. Sitting on the couch, Roger stared at the letter as he swallowed the pills one by one, waiting for the pain to end. His tears didn't stop.
Maureen paced the loft. "He should be here by now."
"Calm down, Maureen. I'm sure he's fine. He'll be here soon."
"It's after four."
"I know," Mark said with a sigh.
"Well where is he?"
"I don't know. You want me to call again?"
Maureen nodded, biting her lip. She ran a hand through her dark curls. She watched Mark pick up the phone and make the call. A minute later, he hung up.
"Still no answer?"
Mark shook his head.
"Something's wrong."
"Maureen, he's probably on his way here. He can't very well answer if he's not there."
Maureen shook her head and picked up her coat. "I'm going over there."
Mark flung his scarf around his neck and grabbed his coat, chasing her down the stairwell.
"Stay here in case he comes by," she called over her shoulder.
Mark sighed and retreated back to the loft. "Call me when you get there."
Maureen hurried down the block. Something wasn't right. She could feel it. They shouldn't have left him. Her gut instinct had told her not to leave. Still, Collins and Mark knew him better, at least that's how it always seemed. When she reached the apartment building two and a half blocks away, Maureen bolted up the stairs.
"Roger?" she called as she knocked on the door.
There was no answer.
Maureen knocked louder. "Roger! Are you in there?"
Growing concerned, Maureen tried the knob. He hadn't locked it. She stepped inside, every step more cautious than the last.
"Roger? Roger, where are you?"
Maureen took a deep breath and forced herself to glance into the bathroom where Mark had found April. It was empty. She continued on to the living room.
"Roger!"
The rocker sat slumped over on the couch. Maureen stared in disbelief at the empty bottle in his hand.
"What is this?"
Roger stared blankly ahead, oblivious to Maureen's presence. She pried the bottle from his hand. Aspirin. Glancing around, she saw the now empty vodka bottle on the coffee table. Tears sprang to her eyes.
"Roger! What the fuck is this?"
When he didn't answer, she picked up the phone and dialed the loft.
"Hello?"
"I'm here."
"Roger there?"
"Not for long. Meet us at the hospital."
"What? Why? What happened?"
"He took a bottle of aspirin."
"We'll meet you there."
Maureen hung up and dialed 911. "Yeah…um…my-my friend….I came over to visit and he…um….I think he overdosed….aspirin….I don't know. The bottle's empty….um… the-there's an empty bottle of vodka……please, hurry….okay….okay….hurry….thank you."
Forty-five minutes later, Mark and Collins leapt out of a cab. Collins paused long enough to thrust some money at the cabbie.
"Keep the change," he said over his shoulder as they ran inside.
Maureen sat in the waiting room, tapping her feet and twirling her hair. Her eyes were puffy and red. Mark went to her and knelt in front of her. She wrapped her arms around him, crying again. Collins stood beside Mark and put a hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair.
"What happened?" Mark whispered as she pulled back.
"I don't know. I got there and the door was locked. And I was going to leave but I remembered that Roger never locks the damn doors and I tried it and it was open and….and he wouldn't answer me….there….he was on the couch with an empty bottle of aspirin and….and there was an empty bottle of vodka….He wouldn't answer me, Mark. He wouldn't answer me."
Mark tried to calm her as his own fears grew. Collins moved away from them both and stared out the window. He needed to stay strong for them. A doctor appeared a few minutes later. He cleared his throat to announce his presence.
Collins stepped up to him. "How is he?"
"Are you with Roger Davis?"
"Yeah. How is he?"
"Can we see him?" Mark asked, looking up at the doctor.
"Mr. Davis overdosed on aspirin. He was in liver failure when he was brought in. The alcohol undoubtedly worsened his condition. There's likely some permanent damage to his liver."
"Will he be okay?" Collins asked.
The doctor nodded. "We were able to pump his stomach and get him stabilized."
"Can we see him?"
The doctor nodded. "Only for a few minutes, though. He needs to rest. I'd like to keep him for a couple of days for observation. Does one of you have his insurance information, by chance?"
Mark and Collins stared at each other and shook their heads. "He doesn't have insurance…" Collins mumbled.
"He'll need to pay the costs of his treatment and care, then."
"He can't afford that! He's a musician," Maureen said.
The doctor frowned. "I'm afraid that with no insurance and no money, Mr. Davis will have to be dis—"
"It'll be paid," a man said, coming up behind the doctor.
"Benny?" Mark sounded as surprised as Collins felt to see Benny.
"I called him," Maureen said, knowing they'd fight about it later.
"I'll pay it. Just keep him here as long as he needs to be," Benny said. The doctor nodded and took Benny's name and telephone number.
"Can we see him now? Please?" Maureen asked.
The doctor nodded and led the way down the hall. Mark held her hand, not so much as glancing at her. Collins went ahead with the doctor. Benny lagged behind. Maureen listened for his footsteps behind her and frowned.
"You coming Ben?" Maureen asked over her shoulder.
"You guys go. I'll wait here," he said.
