Point of View: Nick
I sat at the usual table at dinner, the one in the corner, and waited for Eric to show up. I poked at my meal with my fork, not really hungry. I wouldn't have come down at all if it hadn't been for Eric. I'd been waiting a good fifteen minutes and I'd shoved my tray aside and leaned back carefully against the wall and closed my eyes when I heard his tray drop across from me.
Opening my eyes, I looked at him as he concentrated on his food, not looking up at me or greeting me, just staring at his plate. He picked up his fork and half-heartedly started eating. I sat up straight and I saw his eyes flicker to me ever so slightly, cautiously.
"Any clue what this meat's supposed to be?" I asked, picking up the fork and stabbing mine.
"I think it's roast beef," Eric answered.
"Interesting." I pushed it away again.
Eric watched me a moment, his own fork suspended in midair. He took a deep breath and started to speak, but I interrupted him. "Don't be sorry," I said before he could get the words out.
He hesitated, I could see he was contemplating saying something or not. He took a deep breath. He looked up at me. Our eyes met. Eric rubbed the back of his neck. "I- I just-" he stopped and puffed his cheeks out. "I just wish things were - were different," he said finally.
"So don't I ," I answered. I pulled the tray towards me again. "Like this, for instance. I'd kill for real food about now," I laughed.
"I love you."
I stared at the mystery meat.
"Nick?"
I looked up. "You're a great friend, Eric," I said. "But that's... thats it."
Eric nodded. "Ok." He put his fork down and stood up.
"Where are you going?"
"Bed." He walked away.
I rested my forehead against the tabletop and closed my eyes. Why the fuck did everything have to be so complicated?
I wrote a letter that night to Kayla. I'm not sure what made me do it. I was sitting at the desk in the dimly lit room, holding a pencil, staring up at the little patch of sky I could see through the window at the moon and I suddenly felt like she was somewhere out there, thinking of me... and a sadness I couldn't explain washed over me.
I felt like she was sad.
So I wrote a letter.
Kayla,
I miss you.
I feel like I haven't seen you in forever. Last time I saw you was in the hospital, and it's a blur in my mind. A wonderful blur, but still a blur. I wish I was home, I wish I was in your arms, or that you were in mine, rather. I miss the smell of your hair and the taste of your mouth and the feeling of you pulled closely to me. I miss us. I miss laughing with you and smiling with you and being near you.
When I get home, I swear to you I'm going to love you every way that I possibly can. I want to spoil you and kiss you and make love to you and be everything you need. I wanna give you every thing I have.
You're so beautiful, Kayla... I miss you so much.
Thank you for not giving up on me.
Nick.
I folded the letter up and wrote her name on the outside and propped it up next to the picture of her that I'd drawn. I'd have to ask about sending mail out the next day.
A knock came on my door and I blinked in surprise. I'd never had anyone knock before. I wasn't sure how to react. "Um... Hello?" I called, standing up. I went over to the door. It was locked from the outside so I couldn't exactly open it.
"Nick?" It was Eric.
"Eric?" I asked.
"I'm sorry about earlier," he hissed.
"Don't be sorry," I answered. "How'd you get out there?"
"I'm not in a secured room like you are," he answered, "We're allowed to move around freely..." I heard him sit down outside, leaning against the door. His fingers stuck under the jamb.
Shrugging, I sat down, too, staring at his hand. His fingertips were gnawed down. "What's up?" I asked.
Eric sighed, "Not a lot. I just don't feel like sitting down in that common room with those guys is all... I'm trying to be braver, Nick, really," he added.
"I know."
"Here." A mint slid under the door - one of those white and red pinwheel ones. It was wrapped in crinkly plastic. I heard Eric undoing one of his own outside.
I picked it up. "Thanks," I answered.
"I'm glad we can at least be friends," Eric said slowly.
"I'm glad, too," I answered.
Eric was quiet a moment, and I unwrapped the candy and stuck it into my mouth, sucking the red off the white. I kept sticking my tongue out and plucking it off there to see if the red was gone yet. It took a few minutes to get all the red off, but Eric was silent the entire time. I wondered if he was sucking the red off the candy, too.
Finally, after a long silence, he said, "If I died would you come to my funeral?"
"What's this obsession with you dying?" I asked.
"I dunno," Eric replied. "Would you though?"
"Of course," I answered.
"Okay," he sad.
"Would you come to mine?" I asked.
"Yes."
We were silent.
"Harry died," Eric offered.
I leaned back and closed my eyes. "Who's Harry?"
"My partner."
"Oh." I opened them, and frowned. "He did?"
"Yeah," Eric replied, "He died not long after I got stuck here."
"How?"
Eric was quiet.
"Eric?"
"AIDs."
So that guy hadn't been just being an asshole after all. There was at least a little bit of truth behind the story. I sighed and sank down the wall until I was laying on the floor. I stared out the crack at the bottom of the door jamb. I could see the hallway, and Eric's seafoam green scrubs, ending in a pair of super old orange converse sneakers with rainbow shoelaces. There were drawings and quotes all over the orange fabric. On one toe there was a giant heart with the letters H.L. left white while all the rest had been darkened in with a pen.
It made me miss Kayla even more.
I wondered what she was doing.
