Pitbabe S2, Chapter 23 pg 1

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 23 pg 1

   ALAN:

   After leaving the patient’s room, the gang of kids excused themselves to head back. Seeing that Jeff was safe, everyone seemed more at ease. Especially when they saw the little guy sitting up, talking clearly, and even shooing everyone out to have an important talk with his Phii. Their worries eased even more. Despite his small frame, Jeff was clearly tougher than we all thought.

   But still, I could sense the concern everyone was trying to hide beneath that relief. After the emotional clash between Charlie and Babe earlier, it was hard to pretend everything was fine. If there was truly nothing to worry about, Charlie wouldn’t have been so heated that even Babe couldn’t handle him.

   I was genuinely relieved that Jeff was safe. The paralyzing fear that had gripped me for hours melted away in the best way possible. Just seeing him open his eyes, sit up, look at me, and talk normally felt like an immense blessing. For me, nothing could be more important. I firmly believed that everything I had, everything I’d built or owned, even if it all fell apart or disappeared, I could rebuild or replace it easily. But Jeff wasn’t like those things. He was the one treasure that, no matter how much time I had left or what I traded, could never be replaced.

   That’s why it hit me like a slap to the face—the truth that I was too pathetic to protect this precious thing. No matter how many times trouble arose, if it wasn’t for—

   Because Charlie stepped in, Jeff will handle it himself. As for me, all I can do is watch from the sidelines, clap in admiration, and be grateful that he’s capable enough to manage it. If we had to rely on someone useless like me, we’d probably all be screwed by now.

   I strolled along the first-floor corridor. The sky was dark, and the garden lights had begun to glow, doing their job. Patients and visitors in the inpatient ward had settled into their beds and rooms, with hardly anyone wandering about. The only movement came from nurses, still briskly walking as they had all day. Looking outside, I saw a lush ornamental garden with clusters of white marguerites and yellow ixoras. It looked a bit lonely now, but I was sure it would be vibrant and beautiful in the sunlight. During the day, people probably sat out there to relax, but it was a shame no one admired the flowers when they weren’t at their brightest. Or maybe, from another perspective, the flowers were relieved not to be stared at when they weren’t shining as they should.

   Just like someone sitting out there.

   A young man sat slumped on a long bench in the middle of the garden, bathed in the deep orange glow of a short lamppost. From where I stood, he didn’t seem much different from the flowers preparing to sleep. But the reason a big guy like him was sitting there so wilted wasn’t just because the sun had set.

   I sat down quietly next to Babe. The drooping flower didn’t even look up at me, but I was certain he knew who would approach him at a time like this. We sat side by side in silence, listening to the sound of cars on the road outside, the sparrows chirping loudly at each other in the big tree by the hospital fence, and the silent screams in our own heads.

   “Gonna light it?”

   After about ten minutes, that was the first thing I said. I glanced over and saw him holding an unlit cigarette between his fingers. It was pristine, untouched by flame. He was just pinching it between his index and middle fingers, as if to keep them from feeling lonely.

   “No lighter,” Babe replied flatly, leaning back against the cold, hard metal bench, chilled from hours of dew.

   “I’ve got one.”

   “I’m good.”

   Even at a time like this, Babe could still get under my skin. It really must be his special talent—being down in the dumps yet still able to annoy everyone around him. Not many people can pull that off.

   “Thought you might smoke to spite Charlie.”

   “What’s the point of spiting him now? He’s not even here to see it,” Babe said slowly, his gaze stretching far into the distance. I figured what he was seeing wasn’t just the trees or the narrow hospital road but maybe his own home, Charlie’s new place, a racetrack, or a future he hoped for but knew deep down might never come to be. “He didn’t even bother to come after me.”

   “Don’t tell me you stormed out here hoping he’d follow?”

   “Maybe a little.”

   I burst out laughing at Babe’s brutally honest response. Even now, I’m still not sure how to define someone like him. Sometimes he’s stubborn, saying things that contradict his true feelings, while other times he’s as straightforward as an innocent child. Maybe it depends on the situation. Ordinary people are probably like that—some days honest, some days deceitful, some days kind, others cruel. Some days we can smile through any problem, while others, a shirt caught on a doorknob is enough to make us cry. Personality might predict how we react to some extent, but sometimes the world’s treatment of us plays a bigger role. And today, the world didn’t seem particularly kind to me or Babe.

   “He said something that harsh to me. Normally, he’d have chased after me by now,” Babe turned to me, brows furrowed, lips pursed like he wanted to throw a full tantrum but was holding back, knowing I wasn’t Charlie, who could handle him in this mode. “Don’t you think he’s being a bit too cruel?”

   “After he said all that, you still expect him to come running to make up?”

   “There’s never been a time Charlie didn’t try to fix things,” the sulky kid huffed in frustration. But the next moment, he seemed to realize he was ranting at a brick wall, and his voice softened. “I mean, before we broke up.”

   “But you’re broken up now. Don’t you have to accept that?”

   “I know, but it still pisses me off. I’m mad at him.”

   “I get it,” I said slowly, looking straight ahead because suddenly, meeting Babe’s eyes felt inexplicably difficult. “When Chris asked Jeff to test that drug, I felt the same way.”

   “I don’t want you to think I hate Jeff. I care about him too, and I want there to be a way to help him, but this way is just…”

   “I get it.” I placed a hand on my close friend’s knee, letting the touch convey that he didn’t need to explain himself to me. I understood his feelings, perhaps even before he did. “I get it… it’s okay.”

   “It’s… Charlie,” Babe said, the weight of his emotions pressing down on both shoulders. He seemed to be sinking into a dark, bottomless pit, struggling to climb out but nearly out of strength. I wished I could be a rope, a life jacket, or a buoy for him, but damn it, I was barely keeping myself afloat. “He’s not just anyone. He’s Charlie.”

   Some things I once thought were grand, I never realized how far away I was standing from them. Not until the day I got to walk up close—so close my legs trembled, because no matter how much I craned my neck, I couldn’t see their peak.

   “Even if we’re broken up, even if I hate him, or he hates me, or he forgets me, or loves someone else, Charlie will always be Charlie. That’ll never change. Not until the day I die, or he dies, or there’s no one left in the world. It’ll still be the same.”

   That was the meaning of Charlie’s existence… in Babe’s world.

   “So, no matter what, you’ll never forget him?”

   I knew it was a stupid question.

   But who hasn’t asked a question they already knew the answer to?

   “It’s too late.”

   That was a clever response. He didn’t need to explain further; just saying “too late” made everything clear.

Previous

Next