Voices – Page 53
Part 6 — Aftermath
The hospital. Again.
It was a different hospital — Brian hadn’t wanted to try and explain to Susannah why his friend had been stabbed one month and electrocuted the next — but to Jen, they were all the same. John was in the bed, and the only noises were his breathing and the soft sounds of various medical equipment. The only difference was that this time, John was awake. He was staring out the window, lost in thought.
The doctors had bought the story that he, Jen and Brian had been captivated by the concept of “Urban Spelunking.” The fad was growing in popularity, despite its risks, and more and more people were coming into the hospital with various injuries they’d sustained exploring the abandoned subways and buildings of New York.
They’d told John that he was lucky. The electricity had stopped his heart cold, and burnt his chest quite badly, but didn’t seem to have burned him internally, which could have caused massive havoc. Still, John owed Brian his life, and once the shock had worn off and John had become aware of just how close he had come to dying, he had thanked Brian profusely.
Now, Brian was gone, out with Susannah, and it was just Jen and John, alone in the hospital, again.
Jen shifted position to keep her legs from falling asleep, and continued to watch John. She didn’t want to take her eyes off him even for an instant, still not convinced that someone could have their heart stop and survive relatively unscathed. John heard the movement, looked over at her, and gave her a small smile.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you down there,” he said.
“It’s okay. You’re alive. Everything is okay,” Jen said.
John shook his head. “No, it’s not, but I’m glad to be alive. Listen, how are you doing?”
“I’m fine. You’re the one who got blasted, John.”
“No, I don’t mean that, I…” he paused, looking away, frustrated.
Jen said nothing, waiting for him to go on. Eventually, John looked up at her again, and held her eyes with his.
“It kills me that you’re drinking again and I don’t know how to help you,” he said. “It’s my fault. You’re pushing yourself with me, because you think I need to get into your pants as soon as possible, or something. You’re hurting yourself, because of me, and I don’t know how to help.”
Jen stood up, crossed the room, and sat down on the side of the bed. She took John’s hand.
“I’m drinking because I’m scared. I drink during the day because you’re not there. I drink at night because I’m afraid the dreams will come back if I don’t. I didn’t want to bother you with it. It’s too much, John… you’ve already done so much for me.”
“Not enough, though. I thought I was helping you, but I’m not. Jen, I want to help you. If I’d known that you were scared, I’d have slowed down.”
Jen shook her head. “It’s not that, John. I mean it is, sort of, but I’m not pushing for you. I know you’ll wait. I’m pushing for me. John, I like it when you kiss me. I like it when you touch me. I… there are things I want you to teach me, John. Things that I think probably are beautiful.”
John nodded.
“Most of me wants that. But another part of me is scared. The booze has always worked. It’s always helped me.”
“But now it’s making you sick,” John said.
Jen nodded, biting her lip. “I don’t know what to do,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t even want it, but I can’t stop.”
“What you need to do is understand that you can tell me anything, Jen. You don’t have to worry about bothering me, or how much is too much. There is no ‘too much.’ ‘Too much’ is flat-out impossible.”
“Why?” Jen asked.
John looked surprised at the question. “Because I love you,” he said.
