Pitbabe S2, Chapter 32 pg 6
Pitbabe S2, Chapter 32 pg 6
“Get up already. Watching you fake sleep is making me uncomfortable.”
The cunning patient slowly opened his eyes. Charlie propped himself up to sit, flashing a weak smile as if he genuinely thought he could fool me. Who does this kid think he is?
“I was sleeping, you know,” Charlie hurried to explain before I could start interrogating him. “But I couldn’t keep sleeping, so I sat up to mess around.”
“Yeah, whatever,” I replied, exasperated, dragging a chair from the desk to sit beside the patient’s bed. “So, how’s it going… your symptoms?”
“Just headaches on and off, feeling tired. Probably lack of rest. I’ve been busy with a lot lately, you know.”
“No need to play doctor. I’m the doctor here, not you.”
Charlie shut his mouth instantly, sitting there like a kid scolded by his mom. Seeing him like this reminded me that Charlie is only twenty-four years old. For most people his age, that means just graduating college, starting their first job. They’ve only recently left university, transitioning from students to full-fledged adults. But Charlie’s twenty-four is nothing like others’. He’s a twenty-four-year-old leading a thirty-year-old doctor like me, plus two scientists twice his age. He looks after a younger brother only two years his junior, tries to help millions of strangers, and fights with everything he has to ensure his first love can live a normal life—no matter the cost to himself.
At twenty-four, Charlie is far stronger than I am. He’s lived so intensely, it’s as if he’s only got thirty years to live. Hmm… but who knows? If he keeps pushing himself like this, that metaphor might just become reality.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I told you already…”
“Charlie,” I stared at him, asking in the most serious tone, my voice low. It was just the two of us in this room, at least. I wanted the truth, unfiltered and unpolished, straight from his mouth. “Tell me… what’s wrong?”
Charlie looked at me silently. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it, unable to get the words out. His lips trembled as much as his eyes. The rims of his eyes were red. He took deep breath after deep breath, as if trying to muster the courage, but no amount seemed enough.
“I… don’t know.”
His voice quivered, and a single tear dropped onto the back of his hand. This was the most fragile Charlie I’d ever seen.
“But I don’t think you can fix me.”
My ego shook hard. I’m a doctor. I’ve saved countless lives because I know it’s my duty. Even when patients have died in my hands, I’ve always closed my eyes and told myself I did my absolute best. I’ve let go quickly and easily, never once thinking I was a failure as a doctor… until today.
My soul is in turmoil because of a boy I pulled into my life on a whim. I didn’t expect anything from him beyond being a bridge to escape my past and add a bit of fun to my life. I didn’t expect to learn from him, to form bonds, connections, or the kind of foolish trust others seem to have.
I just wanted to have fun.
But it’s not fun anymore.
Now I’m blaming myself for not being skilled enough to understand what Charlie is going through, and I’m blaming him too. I’m angry that Charlie said I can’t heal him, even though I know deep down it’s true.
I interrogated him about his condition despite his insistence it was pointless. I forced—no, threatened—him to answer until I was satisfied. I rushed to gather every piece of equipment I could to conduct the most thorough examination possible. But the more I examined, the more abnormalities I found—abnormalities I have no idea how to explain to other doctors. All I know is this isn’t a disease any doctor can treat.
It’s just as Charlie said.
I can’t heal him.
Charlie doesn’t blame me. I don’t want to blame myself either, but it’s all spiraling out of my control. No words leave my mouth; my mind is blank. I just sit there in the same chair, watching Charlie cry and plead with me over and over: Don’t tell anyone. Jeff can’t know, and Babe… he absolutely can’t know. I don’t promise anything. It’s my habit not to make promises or accept them from anyone. I believe promises are like tying a noose around your own neck. If not today, then someday, that noose will be pulled, strangling me until I can’t breathe.
Charlie has made me lose too much of myself.
I can’t lose anything more.
BABE:
Charlie came home later than he said he would, but he got a pass because he called ahead to say he was still tied up with work and might be late, telling me to eat dinner without him. The exhaustion in his voice made me hold back from nagging him too much. I just told him not to overdo it and that I’d be waiting for him at home.
Today, we agreed to sleep at Charlie’s place, for the silly reason that, as the homeowner put it, We’ve been staying at Babe’s place so often. But I know the real reason—he’s just too lazy to tidy up his stuff. And it’s not my fault either. I told him we should just move back in together and be done with it, but Charlie keeps playing coy, saying we have to be officially together before we can live together. I can hardly believe it—he talks like some old-fashioned grandpa.
After lazing around all day, my day only truly began when Charlie walked through the door. He still looked as worn out as he did this morning, shuffling in like a paper doll, so pitiful I didn’t even have the heart to tease him.
Comments
Post a Comment