Deciding, Denying, and Drinking (Part 4)
After spending a rather sleepless night in a room down the hall separate from Jeff's, you still had no idea what you were going to do about this situation. It was obvious that he had a problem; however it was also obvious that he was never going to change. The solution that you feared was relentlessly buzzing in the back of your mind and no matter how hard you thought, you couldn't come up with a standing opposition.
Break up with him. Leave the man who you thought you had fallen in love with, and he you? Despite the problems that you guys seemed to have, your relationship was a good one, filled with laughter and small romantic gestures to prove that maybe chivalry isn't dead. A petite nurse snuck into the room. "The doctor's discharging you now that you've stayed overnight for observation," she mumbled before exiting just as fast and as quietly that she had entered. Glad to hear you were finally free, you slipped on the old clothes that you wore in and walked to the lobby. You didn't want to spend any more time in the hospital, but you needed to find out if Jeff was leaving as well.
"Hi, is Jeffery Davis in room 218 being discharged?" you asked another nurse at the computer. She tapped away with unbelievable speed at the worn out keyboard and looked back up at you as if you should have already known the answer. "His doctor has cleared him to leave," she crowed. "But has he left yet—you know, never mind." You ambled down the pristine white hallway until you reached a door that had the number 218 over the top.
"Jeff?" Your call reverberates around the empty space you're standing in. What little he brought with him was gone, and everything was organized once more except for a folded up piece of paper lying on the bed. You sit down on the still warm mattress and open the handwritten note.
Don't worry about me, because I know you, and I know that you will. I can assure you I am perfectly fine or at least will be. Of all the fucked up shit that I've done, this definitely is one of the worst. For some strange reason you stuck by me through everything, and we both know that there's been some crazy shit. Odd as it may sound, I'm not just a narcissistic asshole and I want to prove it to you because even if my fans don't see that there's more to me than that, you deserve to. I don't know when I'll see or talk to you again, but I love you. Whether you like it or not.
Signed,
Jeffery B. Davis
You smile through your tears but can't shake the concern this caused. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? Why wouldn't he say anything before he left? A low rumbling voice got your attention. "Ah, you must be the cute, skinny blonde he was talking about. Jonah Harding, how do you do?" The man stuck out his hand and it takes a moment to realize that he was talking to you. "Oh, um, I'm okay thank you." Jonah moved past you and into the drawer of the bedside table. "I actually just came to get this," he explained, holding up the golden ring that you had gotten Jeff for your anniversary. "He had to take it off for the MRI and forgot it until just now," he explained.
"Mr. Harding, do you know where Jeff is?" you snap rudely. He looks a little taken aback. "Uh, I think he's already downstairs about to—" He doesn't even finish his sentence and you are bounding through the maze of a building you were in, trying to find any stairwell to get down to ground level. Then like a godsend you find it and run down the steps 3 at a time. Him being over 6 feet made it somewhat easier to pick him out in a crowd, but of course now that you wanted to find him he was nowhere in sight. Just as you were about to turn back, you see none other than your boyfriend trudging through the lounge along with two more people that you didn't recognize.
He spots you, and his facial expression is a mixture of elation and shame, which confuses you. However, you ignore it and jog over, literally pushing the strangers away and wrapping your arms around his torso. Jeff's secure embrace covers you like a blanket, and every emotion coming together at this moment created a long lost, shared euphoria, different from anything else. His rough hands are all but that as he cups them over your tear-glossed face. "I know that this is weird and you don't know what's happening, but you need to trust me," he whispers to you.
A million responses ran through your brain, but it was damn near impossible for you to say one. "Y-you don't have to go babe. I don't want you to leave me." One of the women standing with Jeff that you shoved aside piped up. "Actually, he does have to go. Come on Mr. Davis." He shot you a helpless glance and began to drag his feet out toward the exit.
You're dumbfounded by his submissive attitude as well as enraged. "Where the hell are you going then?" you shout right before he would leave your life for god knows how long. Jeff Davis stopped and turned 180 degrees to face a woman who would follow him to the ends of the earth.
"I'm going to rehab."