She entered the room and looked at the man laying with his eyes closed in the bed. He was still. Too still. She considered going back to get the doctor to see if perhaps he needed additional medical attention.
His hair was dark and damp. His narrow nose was straight, and she wondered if she should dig out her compact to hold under it to see if he was breathing because he was stiff and unmoving.
“Are you coming in or just going to stand there looking at me?”
She jumped before swallowing nervously, “you wanted to see me first, why?”
He opened one eye and looked at her, “straight to the point, as always.” He patted the bed, “come sit with me.”
“Max, it’s not a good idea.”
“It’s the best idea.”
“Look, I’m under orders not to stress you out or kill you. I think it’s best I stay right where I am.”
“Or you can appease a sick man and come sit with me.”
“Your mom is waiting outside.”
“It’s not my mom I need to talk to. Please, Lark. Come sit and talk to me.”
She reluctantly stepped further into the room and rubbed her nose, “why do hospitals always smell so bad?” “Disinfectant?”
“Medicinal.” She went to sit on a nearby metal chair and he clicked his tongue and patted the bed. “Max. I don’t think.” “Don’t think,” he begged quietly. “Just do. Come sit with me.”
“Riggs said you were probably having a panic attack.”
“I used to have those all the time as a kid. This was definitely not the same thing.” He rubbed his chest, “felt like I was being choked out while someone battered my chest.”
“I’m sorry you’re not well.”
“It’s my own fault,” he said as he reached for her hand and held it between his. “I’ve missed you, Lark.”
She looked away, annoyed with only three words she was stupidly ready to forgive him for all the horrible things he’d done to her when they were kids. “I didn’t miss you, Max.”
“No?” he kissed her knuckles sweetly, “not even a bit, chère?”
“No.” she insisted forcing herself not to respond to his quiet words or the feel of his lips on her hand.
“Lies.” He chuckled gently. “I need to know what made you walk away from our friendship and never look back.”
“You’re supposed to be resting not getting worked up. I don’t want to fight with you.”
“We don’t need to fight. Talking things out, gently and honestly is not a fight. My Papa has taught me how important it is to talk things out. We spent many a night growing up talking. Talk with me Lark. Please. It will help me feel better.”
“But it won’t make me feel good, Max to dredge up all the things I’ve long buried.”
“It can’t be any healthier for you to dodge your feelings than it is for me.” He tapped his chest. “You don’t want to end up like me.”
“This is dumb.”
“Tell me why you left me.”
“I didn’t leave you. Leaving you implies we were more than we were. Most people in high school never see each other again once they graduate.”
“Most people weren’t closer than close from the day of their births with parents who live right next door. The level of dedication you have displayed in totally avoiding any and all conversation with me since prom is impressive and speaks to how much I hurt you. I want to know what I did.”
“I got tired of it, Max.” She said quietly.
“Tired of what?”
“Being the only friend in our friendship.” She couldn’t look at him as she confronted him after all this time.
“You thought it was one-sided, our friendship?”
“It was. I put in all the effort, and you f****d off all the time. I was the butt of your jokes and the way you drew a laugh from the crowd was often at my expense. You abandoned me all the time. You broke promises every other day without any consideration of how I felt.”
“And how did you feel?”
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