Epiphany

After work, I head down to the hospital to visit David. I have no idea what to expect.

I call him as I’m pulling into the parking garage.

“I’m here.”

“Oh! Uh, okay…” he trails off.

“Everything okay?” I ask. “Christine’s not coming tonight, is she?”

“No, she’s not coming. I’ll see you soon. Room three fifty-five, okay?” he says hurriedly, and hangs up on me.

Unbelievable! He hung up on me! I roll my eyes as I get into the elevator.

I ride up to the third floor and follow the signs to his room. As I approach, I notice a large black lady sitting in a chair outside his door.

“Hello,” I smile at her. “I’m here to see David.”

She smiles back at me and gives me the once-over, then calls into the room, “Your visitor’s here!” Turning back to me, she says, “You can go ahead in there.”

“Thank you,” I murmur as I pass through the door.

I slowly walk into the room but David’s nowhere to be seen. His bed is neatly made, and his backpack and boots are lined up on the floor against the far wall of the room. The scent of his cologne hangs heavily in the air. Where is he?

Just then, he sneaks up behind me and grabs me around the waist.

“Boo!” he growls into my ear, pulling me into him and laughing.

I whirl around and hug him tightly, and he hangs on to me for a long moment.

“Hi there,” I whisper into his chest.

“Hi, Kitten,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “Thank you so much for coming tonight.”

He offers me a seat in the visitor’s chair next to the window and sinks down onto the bed across from me.

I smile at him. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” he says. “I’m kind of an emotional wreck, though…I have to warn you about that. I haven’t had a cigarette in a week and they won’t let me leave my room. They gave me the patch but it ain’t doing shit for me. And I can still feel all the pills I took pumping through my blood. I feel a little…off. But it’s getting better. And of course I’m very happy that you’re here.”

He smiles broadly at me and I eye him carefully. He looks better than last week, but he’s still way too thin. His color’s healthier, though, and his clothes—a white t-shirt and light blue jeans—are clean and pressed.

For the next hour, we talk about my new job, his family, and the situation with Christine.

“I can’t go back there,” he admits to me. Finally. “If I go back there, I’m going to wind up dead. I know that.”

“Then don’t,” I reply. “Is there anything at that house that’s absolutely irreplaceable to you?”

He thinks for a moment. “Irreplaceable? Not really. A couple bags of my clothes, my TV, and my bed. But they can be replaced.”

“Well, then you don’t ever have to go back there again, sweetheart.”

My cell phone rings, and it’s a work call that I have to take.

“Excuse me for a moment, please,” I tell him as I reach for the phone.

As I talk to my client, David slides my sandal off my left foot and begins gently massaging my toes. His hands are warm and strong. I raise my eyes to him and we smile at each other.

I hang up my cell and we resume our conversation.

“So how’s your mom?” I ask.

He stares down at the floor. “She’s okay. She’s working tonight but she called earlier today to talk to me.” He softly laughs out loud to himself.

“What’s so funny?”

He bites his lip. “When we were on the phone earlier—my mom and I—I was telling her that you might visit me tonight, and I was…I was crying a little bit…I told you I’ve been really emotional, right?”

“Mmm-hmm,” I nod.

“Well, I was crying on the phone with her and I told her, ‘I really want to be with Lori.’” He glances at me to check my reaction, and I give him what I hope is a sympathetic yet encouraging smile.

He continues, “And she…she just laughed a little and said, ‘Well, I don’t think her husband would appreciate that.’ And I had to laugh with her. I said, ‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’”

“Oh, sweetie,” I say as I stand up and cross the floor between us. “I love you so much. And I’m so glad to be here and see you tonight. Give me a hug.”

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and squeeze him as he clutches me and begins crying into my neck. Kissing his temple, I softly rub his back and rock him back and forth, trying to soothe him but not really knowing how.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and composes himself. I pull back from him and return to my chair.

“I’m really sorry,” he says mournfully.

“About what?”

“I’m sorry that I’m such a complete fuck-up. It’s sad, isn’t it?! After ten years, you still have to see me as a total fuck-up. I wish I weren’t. I wish I could be something different for you.”

“Listen to me,” I lean forward on my knees and stare at him. “You are NOT a fuck-up. Okay? You’re not. You’re my friend, and I’m your friend, and I will always, always be here for you. I don’t waste my time on fuck-ups. You’re a good person, David. I love you and I would never think you’re a fuck-up. But you need to fix yourself. You need to get out of this rut you’re in.”

He nods. “I know. I need help. I can’t do this on my own. I can’t drink anymore. I can’t do drugs anymore. I’m done. I know it.”

“Good,” I reply. “You know what you need to do, then, right?”

“Yeah. I need to start going to meetings, get a sponsor, work a program…maybe get into rehab.”

“That’s right. And you’re the only one who can do it for yourself. I can’t do it for you. I can only give you as much support as you need to do it…but you have to want to do this yourself.”

Just then, his brother Chris and his brother’s girlfriend walk into the room. I haven’t seen Chris in seven years, and he looks shocked to see me. But he recovers quickly and gives me a brief hug.

“Lori! How you doing?”

“Hey, Chris…good to see you.” I glance at his girlfriend. “Hi, I’m Lori…David’s friend.”

“Hi,” the girl responds. “I’m Michelle.”

I jump out of my chair and offer it to her. “Here you go, sit down. Please.”

“Oh, no, thanks,” she demurs. “I’ll stand. It’s okay.”

I remain standing also, leaning against the radiator below the window. David rises from his bed and joins me.

Chris and Michelle stay for about a half-hour, and during their visit, I have an epiphany that comes seemingly out of thin air. David and I are standing side by side against the radiator, companionably close, and David is talking and laughing with his brother. I look up at David, watching him as he speaks, smiling at his animated expression, his voice, his typical expansive hand gestures. I know him so well; he feels like my other half. Suddenly, the realization that I have been trying so hard to deny for the past six months rises to the surface of my consciousness and strikes me so definitely and unquestionably that I pause, wondering if I’ve actually spoken it aloud to everyone else in the room.

I belong here.

That’s it; just those three simple words that simultaneously elate me and cause my heart to sink to my stomach.

I belong here with David.

Now what?