Josh.mp4 - 1. Prologue

Josh.mp4

by Albert Nothlit

Prologue

I walk into the hospital wondering if I should have come at all. I’m not family and only one person knows I’m visiting. I think about turning back, but it’s already too late to leave without looking stupid, so I go quickly down the hall straight to the reception. I keep my head low and hope not to run into anyone I know. If I do, then they will ask why I'm here, and because everybody knows about Nathan already they’ll guess why I came. I just can't deal with that right now. I'm not even sure I should be here, or why Nathan's stepfather called me of all people to tell me the terrible news. Where did he get my number? It doesn't matter. I'm here now.

I did come as fast as I could after his call, though, even if part of me wants to leave. There’s the reception desk just a couple steps away, and by now the nurse has seen me approach and looks up. I take a deep breath.

"Can I help you?" she says, smiling.

"Yeah, um, I was wondering where Nathan Wright’s room is?"

She looks down and starts typing. "Are you here for a visit?"

"Yeah," I say. "I'm not family or anything. Just a friend."

"Just a moment while I look for him. There we go! Okay, he is in room 407… oh. I'm so sorry."

It's there, in the way she says that last bit, the change in tone and the way she looks up at me and gives me this sad, compassionate look. It makes it final, somehow. As if I needed a stranger to verify what we all knew was going to happen anyway.

I turn away and head for the elevators, ignoring her protests and attempts at explanation. I get into the first one I find and hit the button for floor four a little bit harder than I need to. There's nobody else in the elevator with me and as soon as the doors close shut, sealing me from the world for a few instants, I punch the metal wall. Hard.

The sound of the impact echoes back at me in the small enclosed space. I don't even register the pain in my knuckles, not at first. I realize I'm breathing fast, as if I had just run for a mile, and with an effort of will I manage to calm down for it not to show. Then the number at the top of the elevator doors changes to four and the doors open with a ding. I step out into a nearly empty white corridor and look for a sign to room 407. I find it easily enough and go right.

As I'm approaching, I realize I'm going to have to face Nathan's stepdad and my belly goes cold. I slow down slightly. What am I going to say? What is there to say? I didn't come to visit Nathan after they found him, not once, first because I was afraid and then because I heard that there was nothing they could do to save him and that it was only a matter of time. I figured it would make no difference, and I chose to give in to the pressure of my parents who did not want me mixed up in Nathan's mess. My mother had nearly had a heart attack when the police investigator came to my house that night to ask me some questions. Everybody knew I had hung out with Nathan sometimes in the past and so it was only natural that they come to find out what they could from me. Not that they even suspected me; it was painfully clear that Nathan had jumped on his own. Even so, the investigator’s visit had shaken me up pretty bad. For days afterwards, while they tried to save Nathan here in this hospital, I had lain awake at night in my room, thinking, unable to sleep, wanting to come and see him but not daring. And now I am here.

The door to room 407 is ajar and I slowly push it open. I know a moment of overwhelming terror. What if Nathan's stepdad blames me? What if he wants to throw my cowardice in my face about not having come to visit at all in these four days? What if Nathan told him something before…? I shouldn't be here. But now it's too late again. The door swings open fully and Nathan's stepfather looks up and spots me.

I go inside; I have no choice now. I close the door behind me carefully and then there is only silence. My tongue is stuck to the roof my mouth. I can't think of anything to say.

"Hello, Josh," his stepdad says.

I manage to snap out of it right before the silence becomes awkward. "Morning, Mr. Carter."

"Thank you for coming."

"No problem."

Our voices are almost normal. There is no screaming, no recrimination, no crying or sadness. It's surreal, in a way. We could have almost been greeting each other at the mall or something, not here in an empty hospital room with a bed that is clean and spotless, as empty as the room itself. Nathan's stepdad is sitting on a low chair by the side of the bed. He looks tired. He probably hasn't shaved in a couple of days and his hair is a mess. It's obvious that he spent the night here, and it surprises me more than it should because Nathan always said that his stepdad did not care for him at all. But then, why is he here? Maybe Nathan was wrong about him. Maybe his stepdad did care for him, in his own way.

The awful empty bed draws the eye, more than anything else in the room that is now scrubbed clean and with no trace of flowers or get-well cards in sight. It suddenly occurs to me that Nathan probably did not receive any of those things, though. I sure as hell didn’t send anything, and at school nobody mentioned him except to gossip about the sordid details of how he had been found. He didn't really get along with anybody, except me. I was supposed to be his best friend.

Mr. Carter and I look at each other. It's awkward again, and suddenly it occurs to me that he might break down and cry in front of me. That scares me more than the thought of his anger, and so I inch away from him, not knowing what to do with myself, my eyes scanning the room for anything that might distract me.

Nathan's stepdad starts to say something but then shuts up. I think he's trying to work up the courage to ask me whatever it was that he wanted to ask me when he called me, but he doesn't quite dare and I'm not going to help him. I suddenly wish I was anywhere but here, but I don't know how to escape. In my mind, I had half-expected for Nathan to still be in his room, maybe covered with a sheet or something. Then I would say goodbye and leave. There's nothing of that, though, nothing to say goodbye to, nothing of his left anywhere except—

On a small nightstand by the table is his phone. It's half-hidden by a jacket but I recognize it right way.

Mr. Carter sees me looking at it.

"I got your number from there," he tells me. "You are the only contact he had under ‘friends’. I thought you might want to know when he—"

It's so awful when his voice breaks. I avert my eyes, ashamed for him and a little afraid. Nathan's stepdad seems to sense that I am really uncomfortable because he says, "Excuse me for a moment." He leaves the room and suddenly I'm alone in there.

I know this is my chance at leaving, and I take it. Before I go, though, I do one little thing. Something Nathan would've probably wanted me to do. I pick up his phone, open the back case and take out a tiny black memory card. Then I put the phone back together and leave it there, where I found it. I pocket the memory card and hurry to the elevator. I'm lucky; I don't run into anyone on my way out of the hospital and once I am out in the street I feel better. I know that was probably the last time I would ever speak to Nathan's stepdad. There’s talk that both he and Nathan's mom will be moving away in a few weeks, and I do not plan on going to the funeral when they have one.

At first I think about going straight home, but I change direction two blocks away from the hospital. I don't want to be in my house just now, with my mother hovering around me. I need to be alone.

I walk slowly. I feel awful, guilty, and so very angry. It feels like my emotions are thrashing in my chest, fighting one another with none of them coming out on top and me feeling like shit the entire time. I feel bad about leaving the hospital like that, and even worse about giving in to the impulse of stealing the memory card. I feel sick with guilt about not having visited Nathan before the end, and afraid that I will run into someone right then, one of my friends from school who will ask what's up and I won't be able to lie and I will break down and everything will go to hell.

What did Nathan think, as he was lying in that bed those last awful days? Was he even conscious, or was he so full of medication and painkillers that he didn't even know what was going on? What about the very end? Did he think he was alone?

I can't stand it. I want to scream but I don't dare, and the thought of life going on as usual for everybody but without Nathan in the world is suddenly an overwhelming and horrible truth that I just can't run away from. It's not real. It can't be real. I stop in the middle of the street, eyes cast down, fists clenched at my sides and for a second I just feel this terrible emptiness inside that scares me beyond words. I shut my eyes against it, fighting it, losing the battle—but eventually I start to walk again, forcing a lid over all those emotions and putting everything on the back burner for now. I can’t deal with this, not yet. I need to think, but to do so I need to go somewhere well away from everybody else.

The cliffs. I will go to the cliffs. I haven't been there for months, not since I was there with Nathan that last time. Few people go there anyway, and now that Nathan jumped from that place nobody goes there at all.

Yeah. It makes sense, I guess. Maybe there I will be able to say goodbye. Maybe there, away from people, I will be able to face the facts as they are. Even the guilty whisper in the back of my mind that keeps telling me that maybe this was all my fault, that I could have stopped it if only I’d cared enough. If only I had done something…

I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. Then I start walking.