Chapter 43 - Charlie
When the Party’s Over - Billie Eilish?
Six months since that night
G ods, I forgot how awful hospitals are. I can't remember what I ever liked about working here. There are way too many people. It's too loud, too bright and you bump into old creepy bosses that you’d rather not have to deal with. Why Dimi demanded to keep Porter at my old hospital is beyond me but he insisted that the specialist who is overseeing everything is comfortable here.
“Hi Alan, long time no see,” I say trying to be polite but not actually giving a fuck. I don't really owe him anything at this point as I have no intention of ever coming back here to work. That plan dried up along with everything else I thought was going to happen.
It's been six months to the day that Porter was airlifted here. Dimi is meant to update me if something major happens, otherwise, I told him he didn't need to call me every day because it was too overwhelming. I'd start to breathe and then be taken right back to that moment.
I've been building myself up to come back and see him. I even talked with a therapist and made a plan of attack. I have my coping strategies and I've taken my anxiety medication, but my palms are still sweaty and I feel nauseous. Twelve floors above me lies the only man to make me fall in love with him and I'm excited and scared all at the same time.
“Charlie,” he says, his eyes darting all over the place. “What are you doing here? Does Dimitriy, I mean Mr Sokolov know you're here?”
He seems more nervous than usual and it's throwing me off.
“What do you mean Mr Sokolov? Why would I have to tell him I'm coming to visit someone? What's happened, Alan?”
I can't help but raise my voice a little as I question him. I mean, no, I didn't tell Dimi I was coming. I wanted to do this without him. He would baby me like Dante does Henry and I didn't need that. I wanted to be free to see Porter how I wanted to see him.
“You shouldn't be here.” He practically whispers as he pulls out his phone frantically trying to call someone.
“I'm just going to go upstairs. It's been … interesting, Alan.”
I walk through the emergency department, waving to a few old colleagues but not bothering to stop and chat with them. Turning, I see Alan looking at me tearing at his hair and pacing in a full on panic. It’s like watching a car crash unfold and I stop completely and take a moment to watch him. Sweat patches have started to form and it's like we're in a stalemate at opposite ends of the corridor. Standing one hundred metres from each other and I can’t understand why he’s so panicked. And then out of nowhere, the seed of doubt begins to creep in.
Has something happened?
Dimi would have told me. He would have told me ... right?
I close the short distance to the elevator and press the button. The bell ringing out that it's on its way but the chirpy sound suddenly seems aggressive.
It's okay, Dimi would have told me. He would have told me … please gods he would have told me.
Looking over my shoulder to Alan again, I continue to press the button for the elevator, smashing my finger into it repeatedly. My face scrunches from the emotion, trying not to process what I think is happening. Suddenly Dimi appears at the end of the corridor, chest heaving like he ran here. His eyes find mine and the look of pity flashes across his face.
No.
No. No. No
I smash the button harder as the offensive ding of the elevator arriving rings out. Metal grinds against metal as the doors slowly slide open as the world all but fades away from me. It's like looking down a black tunnel as Dimi sprints down the hallway, but I've already pressed the button to Porter's floor. His body slams into the hard metal of the doors when they shut and the pained sound of a roar haunts me as I travel up into the unknown, not entirely sure I'm willing to accept what I find.
Tentative steps forward are all I can manage as I hug the wall trying to stay out of everyone's way until I'm standing in front of the door that holds my future behind it.
He would have told me if something happened. He would have told me.
The words repeat in my head over and over as a crash comes from down the hall. The stairwell door slams open as Dimi stumbles through.
“CHARLIE DON'T,” he screams running toward me. Forcing me to take a step forward and push open the door to Porter's room.
Emptiness.
Nothing is here. The room is completely clear of the mountain of machines that once filled the space. A single unoccupied bed sits in the middle of the room with two recliners to the left of it.
Emptiness.
Nothing is here.
I'm alone.
Dimi grabs my shoulder, turning me to him but he can tell that it's too late, his face dropping as he looks at me. My brain short-circuiting at the notion of him not being here any more.
I left him sleeping.
He was just sleeping.
“Charlie, I can explain. I’m sorry, I can explain,” he pants, trying to catch his breath from running the twelve flights of stairs to catch me.
Without reason, I slap him. Just lift my right palm and slap him across the face like it means nothing … and he lets me. The force of every emotion I'm feeling behind it.
And still, he looks at me with pity.
The words I’m sorry etched all over his face.
“It should have been you.” I spit out.
Regret flowing through me as soon as it leaves my mouth but I don't say anything else. I can't. What am I meant to say to a man who has everything when I have nothing? I don't care that Porter was his brother, that he's grieving too. It feels like I'm standing in a room full of people screaming for someone to understand but no one does. No one gets this feeling.
I'm drowning and no one will save me.
Porter, come back and save me.
Please, save me.