Pitbabe S2, Chapter 10 pg8

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 10 pg8

   “Such a hassle. Just a cracked head, and the whole village has to show up?”

   “Chris is still around too,” Charlie said with a sheepish smile, as if to say the “village” was bigger than I thought. “Let’s go find a spot to smoke.”

   “Even in a hospital? Some doctor you are.”

   “Where’s this Chris?” Phii Alan asked.

   “The doctor helping Charlie’s work, the one I told you about,” I replied lazily, not eager to talk about that weird doc, even if he was my savior today. “The one who looks like Way.”

   “Oh, he’s here too?” The captain’s eyes widened. “I wanna meet him. How similar are they?”

   “He’ll be here soon,” Charlie answered with a grin. “But you’d better brace yourself.”

   “That similar, huh? Are you guys exaggerating?”

   “Just wait and see, uncle,” I chimed in, fully confident this wasn’t just group delusion. Chris and Way were similar to the point they could swap lives. I was sure when Phii Alan saw Chris, he’d be shocked, like seeing a ghost. “The real deal, like he died and came back.”

   

   CHRIS:

   I stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray bin after satisfying my lungs with smoke. The smell of exhaust clung to my clothes, fingertips, and lingered in my mouth. Going back to the others like this wouldn’t be great. I reached into my pocket, hoping for a mint gum, but no luck—I’d chewed the last one. The only option now was the convenience store.

   I remembered there was one downstairs, near the inpatient ward entrance. So, instead of heading straight to the ER, I detoured to the next building. The store was in a prime spot, visible as soon as I crossed over. I walked in, heading for the candy and gum section. The shelves were packed with similar-looking gum packs—green or blue wrappers, refreshing just to look at. I grabbed a familiar brand, started toward the cashier, but then doubled back to pick up another pack. As I turned to head to the counter, my eyes caught a guy standing at the end of the aisle, looking tense by the get-well gift baskets.

   “Are you buying this to visit a patient or to give to a relative?”

   I don’t know why I walked over to talk to him. Maybe it’s just how I am, or maybe he looked so lost that I couldn’t bring myself to walk away.

   “If it’s for a relative, I think milk, bird’s nest, or fruit would be fine. But if it’s for a patient to eat, you’d need to ask what they’re sick with. Some conditions require avoiding sugar—some fruits are high in sugar. Some need to avoid dairy, others sodium. Chicken essence soup is probably out of the question.”

   I scan the pre-made gift baskets. Honestly, this stuff isn’t really suitable for visiting patients, but I get it—it’s more about social courtesy. From my own experience, these things never actually reach the patient’s mouth. It’s the relatives who end up eating them all day, which I think is fair. There’s no job in the world as exhausting as caring for a sick person.

   “What’s wrong with the person you’re visiting?” I turn to the guy next to me, only to be surprised when I see he’s already staring at me. Even stranger is the look on his face. “Hey?”

   He’s staring at me, eyes wide like I’m some talking monster. His face is pale, but his eyes are red, as if he’s about to cry. Now I’m starting to doubt if what I did was right. Maybe he’s someone who’s terrified of talking to strangers. Not everyone’s like me, chatting up people wherever I go. Did I accidentally scare him?

   “Are you okay?” I ask again as he just stands there, staring at me like he’s in shock. His lips tremble slightly, parting as if he’s about to speak several times, but he doesn’t say anything. “Hey…”

   “Way…”

   His voice is thinner than the smoke from my cigarette, but I’m certain I heard what he said. That one word is enough to explain why he’s looking at me like I’m a monster. Because in his eyes, I am a monster—or rather, a “ghost,” to be precise.

   This guy must be another person from Charlie’s circle. Meeting him here, standing confused in front of the gift basket display for hospital visits, everything clicks perfectly. He’s probably someone from the racing crew picking out a gift for Babe, who’s got nothing more than a cracked head and some bruises. The guy’s good-looking, tall, and well-built. Even in just jeans and a plain white t-shirt, he looks refined, like he’s wearing an expensive suit. Honestly, he doesn’t seem much like part of Babe’s racing gang.

   “Are you friends with Charlie and the others?”

   Bam!

   The stranger doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he does something even more shocking—he rushes forward and hugs me tightly, like we’ve known each other forever. And it’s just the two of us here, not in a busy convenience store with people coming and going.

   “Hey, uh…”

   “Thank you for coming back.”

   Okay, this is no joke.

   He’s… crying.

   “I’ve been waiting for you, Way. Every day. There’s so much I want to tell you. Back then, I thought I’d wait until things got better to say it. I was so sure we’d meet again. I was stupid, Way. I…”

   I stood there, frozen, unsure what to do. Among Way’s acquaintances, this guy had the most intense reaction, and yeah, he was the hardest to deal with. I wanted to push him away, but for some reason, I thought standing still like this was the better choice. Even though the cashier girl at the counter had glanced at us several times already.

   “I won’t waste time anymore. I won’t assume you’ll always be here,” he said, his voice trembling, hugging me tighter as if afraid I’d evaporate. “I don’t care if you have someone else in your heart. Just let me do everything I should’ve done back then.”

   Alright, this is probably the moment I should say something.

   “I like you, Way.”

   Uh… when exactly should I tell him I’m not Way?

  

Previous

Next