Chapter 37 ...Get to him
I sit at the kitchen counter, a cold beer in my hand, my fingers gripping it like it’s the only solid thing in the room. The glass feels thin, fragile in my hand. I don’t remember opening it. I don’t remember much of anything anymore, just this vague feeling that the day has slipped through my fingers and left me here, empty, again.
I dropped by the school where Ryan works. Just like I guessed, it was locked up tight for the weekend. So I tried the park next, thinking maybe I’d run into him there. I wandered around aimlessly for a while, but he wasn’t there either.
Now I’m sitting here, staring at nothing, just a blank, white space in my head. It always starts like this, this hollow feeling that creeps in, soft and subtle. It gnaws until I'm not sure what it is anymore. And before long, it leads to sadness.
It’s a strange sadness. One that doesn’t feel like it belongs to anything. It’s like I’m sad for the sake of being sad, like it’s just something that happens to me when I forget to pretend everything is fine. But I don’t know what I’m actually sad about. There’s nothing specific to point to.
People have slow days. You can’t be happy all the time, and you can’t be expected to be. Sometimes you’re just low, but is it normal to feel like this every day? I don’t think so, I know it’s not.
The worst part is, I also know deep down that something’s wrong. I don’t acknowledge, but it’s there, this emptiness that has been steadily consuming me for months now.
And then Ryan came along.
I’m not sure if it was him, exactly. But when he did, it was like I had something real to focus on again. Something that felt significant, something that gave me purpose, even if it was just hanging out with him. His presence was enough. It distracted me, kept my mind occupied when I would otherwise be drowning in this dead air that fills my chest.
And now I haven’t heard back from him since this morning, and I’m sitting here wondering why that makes me feel like I’m losing something. I’m sitting in this goddamn expensive apartment, surrounded by things I don’t care about, and all I can do is feel sorry for myself. Because of what? Because I didn’t get a text back? Because I’m alone? Because I don’t know what I’m doing with my life?
There are people out there with real problems, real suffering. People who actually have something worth complaining about, and here I am....
It’s almost eight now. Any chance for a movie night is long gone. I put the bottle down and drag myself back to bed. I sleep a lot nowadays. I like to say it’s because I’m just exhausted, but what the hell am I exhausted from? There’s nothing weighing on me. I’m not working as much, I haven’t done any real work in weeks. I’ve been abandoning it slowly, because what difference does it make?
I don't know when I fell asleep. The bed feels so much like a cave, like it might swallow me whole if I don't keep fighting to stay awake. The phone ringing pulls me from it, dragging me up, though I don’t know where I am yet. My brain is still thick with sleep, and I fumble around in the dark, reaching out blindly, my hand brushing across the nightstand before landing on my phone.
I glance at the screen.
Ryan.....
My heart leaps, and for a second, I feel dizzy, like I've been drowning and this is the lifeline I’ve been reaching for. I don’t even think. I just answer it, pulling the phone to my ear, breath catching in my throat.
It’s silent, always is. I’ve learned by now not to expect anything more. Ryan never speaks first. I almost wonder, sometimes, if it’s intentional, if he’s waiting for me to pull him out of whatever silent space he’s living in.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“Ryan?” I ask next, my heart beating faster in my chest. I can’t explain it. The way hearing his voice, or the potential of hearing it, is something I’ve come to need more than I care to admit.
When there’s still no answer, I ask. “What happened? We had plans, remember?”
My disappointment leaks through, I’m not trying to hide it. I had been looking forward to tonight, to whatever it was we were supposed to be doing. But this silence feels like something else...something deeper.
Another long, tense pause. Then finally, Ryan’s voice, softer than usual. "I'm sorry."
It hits me like a quiet wave, and I press the phone tighter to my ear. My head is swimming, but I still manage to catch the exhausted tone of his voice. "Where are you? At your apartment?" I ask, already thinking about how I’ll get to him, even if it’s reckless.
"No, I'm not home," there’s a weariness in his voice that doesn’t sit well with me.
I rub a hand through my hair, trying to process what this means, but it's hard to make sense of. "Ryan..." I say again, more of a question this time, because I want to ask him everything but can’t figure out how. I need to understand what’s going on with him.
There’s a long sigh from the other end, and then he speaks again, his voice almost apologetic. "Do you still have my glasses?"
I frown at the unexpected question. "Yeah," I say, confusion edging my words. "I do. Why?"
He clears his throat, and for a second, I feel the distance between us grow wider, like something unsaid is hanging in the air. "I need them back. Could you bring them to me?"
“Right now?”
“Yeah, right now.... please?”
I notice the way his words shift. It’s an excuse, plain and simple. A reason to get me to him, to move me.
I glance at the clock on my nightstand, past nine. I don’t even have to think about it. "Of course, I'll bring them over." I’m already moving before I finish the sentence, slipping out of bed and grabbing the glasses from the drawer where I stashed them.
"Send me the address," I add, my voice quiet, a little uncertain, but trying not to let him hear it.
The phone clicks off, and I sit there for a second, frozen in place, just staring at the glowing screen. For a moment, I wonder if this whole thing was some weird dream, if this is my mind playing tricks on me.
I get up, moving quickly now. I throw on jeans and a zip up hoodie and grab my keys, moving almost mechanically through the apartment. As I step out of the door, my phone buzzes, and I check the message from Ryan.
I stare at the address.
It's a hospital.
The pit in my stomach deepens, and I freeze. My fingers hover over the phone screen, but it’s like I can’t move. Something shifts in me, something darker than anything I want to acknowledge. The only thing that feels certain now is how much I don’t know, how much I can’t understand about this. And how much I need to get to him.