Page 38 of I Love to Hate You
It's amazing how slowly the day drags by when you’re waiting for news, but time passes as more and more friends and family show up to the waiting room. Some of them come and go, while a few stay to wait for an update with us. I speak to a couple of Simon’s cousins who are already putting in work to find out who did this to him, plotting and planning their revenge like I knew they would. They ask me if I want to join them once the shooters are identified, and I just shrug. I’m not strong enough to think about revenge right now. All I care about is Simon’s survival. I’ll think about the rest once he pulls through.
A couple of hours go by, and I find my way back to my seat on the far side of the room. I sit down and shake my head over and over again, disgusted with myself and the fact that Simon is on his own in there. It’s the worst feeling in the world—sitting in an ER waiting room on pins and needles with no new information. It feels hopeless, and I’m completely full of despair when my phone rings in my pocket. The motion of reaching in and pulling the device out barely even registers to me as I place it against my ear.
“Yeah?” I answer, my head down as I rub my temples.
“Hey. It’s Maya.”
Her voice is soothing, and under normal circumstances I think I’d be thrilled to hear from her, but tonight is different. I was with her instead of being there for Simon, who was in his yard all alone.
“Yeah,” I say again, too broken to act as though I’m unaffected.
She clears her throat. “Umm, yeah. I just wanted to see how you were.”
“It’s not a good time,” I reply, because I don’t know what else to say.
She doesn’t know Simon. Seeing him with me at the mall once doesn’t give her any insight on who he is or what he’s about, and I don’t have the strength to explain all of this right now. I’m not in the right frame of mind to break it down so she can understand and try to console me. I don’t deserve to be consoled anyway, because he’s my friend and I should’ve been there for him.
“Oh,” she says. “Why? Is everything okay? You sound like you’re pissed off.”
My frustration begins to boil and turn into impatience. This is my second night in this waiting room. I’m hungry, tired, and filled with guilt that swells more and more with each passing hour.
“I’m not pissed off, Maya. I just have a lot of shit going on right now, so I don’t have time to answer a hundred questions for you. I said it’s not a good time, and that should be enough. I have to go.”
I want to end the call because I know I have nothing to offer but a mixture of pain, sadness, anger, and grief. I can’t be the guy Maya spent the night with last night. I don’t know if I’ll ever be that guy again if Simon doesn’t make it, but that’s who she is expecting to speak to.
“Are you kidding me right now?” she asks, pure fire in her voice. “This is how you’re gonna act after everything that happened last night?”
“Why aren’t you listening?” I ask. “I said I don’t have time for this right now and I have to go.”
Maya scoffs. “So you wanted to hit it and quit it? That’s your game? I should’ve known. God, I’m an idiot. I can’t believe this.”
“Why are you jumping to conclusions just because it’s not a good time right now? Are you that self-centered? It’s not a fucking good time.”
My impatience quickly turns to anger as my emotion takes over. It doesn’t help that Maya is the one I was with last night while Simon was being gunned down. Talking to her only makes me feel worse, and I’m already filled to the brim with shame.
“Yeah, I get the feeling there will never be a good time now that you got what you wanted out of me,” Maya says.
I want to go off on her. I want to lose it completely for not respecting what I’m saying about it not being a good time. All she has to do is listen and give me some space. Once Simon comes out of this, I’ll gladly fill her in and we can try to move on. But she’s being an asshole at the worst possible time. Just as I’m about to lose my temper completely, the hospital intercom goes off.
“Paging Doctor Brad Johnson. Doctor Johnson to operating room three.”
A dreadful feeling climbs into my stomach. Wasn’t the doctor from last night named Johnson? I’m not the only one thinking it, because Theresa’s head pops up as my mom’s does. Panic comes to life and starts to spread to everyone waiting on an update.
“I’m about to fucking hang up on you,” I say, my eyes glued to Theresa who’s starting to break down again.
“Who was that?” Maya asks, unrelenting. “Where are you right now?”
That’s it. My emotion boils over and I lose control of every word tumbling out of my mouth. “Goddamn, why can’t you mind your fucking business? Don’t worry about where I am. It has nothing to do with you. I have to go.”
“Kendrick, wait,” she says, but I end the call and immediately turn off my phone, slamming it back into my pocket.
Another twenty minutes goes by in complete silence, but it ends with the double doors being slowly opened, grabbing all of our attention. Everyone in the group stands as Doctor Johnson makes his way over to them. I stand up, too, but when I see the look on his face, I sit back down. I don’t have to hear him say it to know what has happened, but his words find their way into my ears anyway as he addresses Theresa.
“Miss Martin,” he begins.
I put my head down and stare at the floor.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news. We did everything we could for your son, but Simon’s lung collapsed about twenty minutes ago. While we were working to repair the damage, he suffered a massive stroke that was catastrophic. We gave it everything we had in trying to resuscitate him but were ultimately unsuccessful. I’m sorry, but Simon didn’t make it.”
