Page 10 of Rectify

As I hit the lit up letter G inside the cart, I pull my phone out and message Max.

Me: Be up in five.

Not expecting a response, I'm surprised that it vibrates in my hand almost immediately.

Max: I'm in the cafeteria, meet me here first?

I frown at the screen, the cryptic tone of her messages worrying me.

Me: Everything okay?

Max: Just the usual

Tucking the phone back into my pocket, I impatiently tap my foot, willing the elevator to go faster. As soon as the familiar ding echoes around me, I rush, taking large steps to Max.

It takes a few seconds for me to recognise her. With her hunched shoulders and her head in hands, she looks like the world is crashing down around her.

Slowly sliding into the seat in front of her, I try to make my presence known as to not scare her.

“Max.” She looks up, and I notice just how much Max’s face hides when she's at home with Lily and I. “Max, what is it? How is he?”

“I hate being here, did you know that? I hate that this is my daily routine.”

“Me too,” I offer.

“Does it make me selfish if I don't want to come here every day?” Like a little lost puppy, her eyes beg me for forgiveness and reassurance; two things that will sound hollow coming from my mouth.

“If you want out, then you can go,” I say curtly. “You did your duty and called me. I'm here now, and you're free.”

She grabs a napkin from in front of her and dabs at the corner of her eyes, wiping her unshed tears. Erasing her vulnerability from the conversation. Silence between us ensues, and the sound of people chattering around us gets louder.

The one person who can ease her guilt and tell her to go, can't. In his place is me; the guy whose smiles, empathy and comfort are reserved for those who are deserving, and even then, the business of making other people feel better does not come easy to me.

I don't know anything about Max, and moments like this show just how little desire I have to change that. Resigned by her lack of response or explanations, I look down at my watch and make my move. “I'm going up.” I stand, stepping to the side and tucking the plastic chair neatly back under the table. I can feel her watch me leave, hear the gears in her mind turning, her thoughts shifting and changing as the distance between us gets bigger.

Walking into my second elevator of the day, I stare into the unappreciated reflection, it's sole purpose to remind people what rock bottom looks like.

The nurses smile expectantly as I glide through the ward, most of them used to my presence. The need for pleasantries have passed as my reasons for coming here have turned from days to weeks.

My eyes catch a glimpse of navy blue scrubs leaving his room. My steps quicken, hoping for an update that Max was incapable of giving me.

“Oh, Mr. Evans.” The greeting doesn't feel genuine, his pen scratching details down on his clipboard taking precedence. “How are you?”

Not interested in chit chat, I don't respond to the older man. Pointing down to the lines of his scribble, I get to the point of why I'm here. Now, and every day. “What are you writing? Has something changed?”

“Just record keeping, Mr. Evans, nothing to worry about.”

“Well, how is he? Did anything change overnight?” I drag my hands down my face in frustration, wishing people would answer my fucking questions.

“Nothing’s changed, Jay.” My heart drops as he places his hand on my shoulder, trying to soothe his blunt delivery. His voice is low, and lot less cheery than it was a few minutes ago. The unfortunate seriousness and lack of good news in his tone has reality crashing down on me. “Leroy needs your strength, son, go inside and give it to him.”

3

Sasha

“God, she’s ridiculously cute. Don’t you just want to squeeze those cheeks.”

“Tone it down, crazy mama,” Holly warns. “You always get this way with the new ones.”

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