I DON’T really sleep. They say lack of sleep can make seizures more frequent. Stress can make them more frequent. There’s nothing I can do about that, though, except toss and turn and worry about what’s going to happen the next day.
And the day after that. If I could just get in touch with John, I’m sure life would be a lot easier. But I can’t, and I can’t call Levi for comfort. I am bereft.
My brother comes to keep me company. He barely looks at me. I think it’s because he’s still angry. He thinks I shouldn’t have stormed out, but we haven’t really talked about it. We haven’t really talked about anything. I’m just glad he’s here, and I don’t have to be alone anymore, because I can’t handle that right now.
The tests should be carried out through the day, and at least that’s something to keep me occupied, or to keep me worried. To keep my mind off the lives I’m wrecking.
Alton stretches in the chair next to me. He’s shaved his terrible beard, and he’s starting to look like a respectable member of society again. Mostly he just looks miserable.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I know you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me.”
He looks at me. “You mean here in the country or here in hospital?”
“Both,” I reply.
He nods. For a moment I wonder if he’s going to forgive me, if he’s the person who’s going to cut me some slack. Ziggy hasn’t even texted me—not after she found out I was okay, anyway. Her last text to me read Let me know if you have a brain tumor. And that was that, nothing, even when I tried multiple times to reach out to her. She hasn’t replied, and neither has Hassan or Jana. I guess after the excitement of the first day things are starting to settle down. People are starting to get angry. I should have thought about this, because every time I look at my brother I feel worse about it.
“I’m sorry for being a dick,” I say.
He smiles at me. He looks really tired. “Yeah.”
I sigh and lean back on the bed. “I feel like I’m going to have to send everyone apology notes. That’s a thing, right? Like thank-you notes?”
“Fuck knows,” Alton says.
I can feel the knot in my throat already. I wish he was making this easier, but I know I don’t deserve for it to be. I wouldn’t be making this easy on me if I were him either.
“I’m sorry, Alton,” I say. “I just—I don’t know, I freaked out.”
He looks at me. “I had to call Mom and Dad. I had to call them and tell them I was in the country, and that you were missing. I had to tell them I came over without talking to them or surprising them, because I was worried about you.”
“Shit,” I say. “Look, I’m—”
“Sorry, I know,” he says. “You keep saying.”
“Did you—”
“No,” he replies. “Don’t worry. I didn’t get your boyfriend in trouble. I was tempted, but he’s really nice, and he doesn’t deserve to have his life ruined just because he’s involved with a self-absorbed idiot.”
“Not anymore,” I say. “He broke up with me last night.”
Alton looks at me for a few seconds, cocking his head. “Are you okay?”
I look back at him before he looks away.
“Right,” he says. “Good point.”
“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry. Things just got hard. Like, things are really complicated with my love life, and then there’s John, and you guys wouldn’t believe me, and I just felt so, I don’t know, alone. Plus I needed to help him, you know?”
“Help him with what?”
“He’s going to die,” I say. “Unless I can stop it.”
“So now you have a savior complex too?”
“No,” I say. “It’s not like that. I already warned him, and he’s not taking me seriously. Levi wrote about it, and I just wanted to help him, and you guys wouldn’t listen to me. I just wanted to make everything right, but instead I just made things worse. Because that’s my specialty, making things worse. And then there’s Levi obviously and you are right—he doesn’t deserve any of this, and there’s you and Mom and Dad and—”
“Stop talking,” he says, sighing. “I am sorry too. You’re sick, I shouldn’t have really let you walk out. Honestly some of this is probably on me. I should have called Mom and Dad the moment Ziggy got in touch with me. I didn’t do it because I didn’t want to, but you’re not well.”
I put my head in my hands. “I’m not lying, Al.”
“Yeah,” he replies, shrugging. “I know you don’t think you’re lying—”
“No,” I reply. “I’m telling you the truth. That’s where I went. That’s why you couldn’t reach me for days. I’m fine. Think about it, like, my clothes had been recently washed, I wasn’t hungry, it wasn’t like you found me in a ditch somewhere. I took a taxi to the hospital. My phone was on, it just wasn’t working. I didn’t spend any money. I can show you my bank statement. I’m telling you the truth.”
Alton exhales. “Truth is an interesting thing.”
I nod. I’m not really sure what else I can tell him. He’s definitely not forgiven me, but he’s here, and that’s something. That’s better than being alone.
“We were just trying to help,” he says, after what seems like forever. “I know it doesn’t matter to you right now, but we just wanted to help you. Anyway I’m going to get something to drink.”
I watch him stand up and walk away. He closes the door behind him without looking back. The door to this hospital room is becoming a metaphor for my life.
“WE COULDN’T find anything,” the doctor says. She looks up from her clipboard and tells me something I already knew, but I’m still trying to appear attentive because it seems like the right thing to do. “Your brain is, well, it seems okay. You have epilepsy obviously, that showed up on the EEG, but there’s nothing uncommon about the way it’s presenting. We haven’t captured any seizures, which is strange.”
“So you don’t know what’s wrong with me?”
She shakes her head. “You have epilepsy, Mr. Eldridge. Anything other than that, you’ll have to discuss with your neurologist. Do you know what could have brought on the seizures?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did something change in your lifestyle? Your diet?”
I want to tell her I’ve been time traveling, but I just shrug.
“What about your mood?”
I guess my mood changed since I got the letter from Crash, but I don’t really see how that’s relevant.
“I guess since I got a job?”
“Okay,” she says. “You may want to talk to your neurologist about that.”
That’s hardly a revelation, I think, but I don’t say anything. “Right, thank you.”
“We’re going to discharge you,” she says. “You should be getting your appointment with your neurologist soon. You should stay with a friend or family, just in case. You’re also going to have to keep a log, and not just of seizures, or things you know as seizures, but anything you think may be strange. Do you also want a referral to the psychiatric clinic?”
I swallow. “Do I need a psych clinic?”
“You need to see someone,” she says. “This must be a very stressful time for you. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to talk to?”
I chew the inside of my mouth until I can taste blood, before I nod.