Ophelia Drowned

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

My mouth went dry as I tried to find words. I wasn't certain how people responded to a statement like that. In my case I just stared for a few moments, speechlessly. Hex raised a brow at me and then sighed and looked at the ceiling again.

"That day I found out about you, I had been in for some tests," he muttered. "It's a bone cancer... I had it when I was eleven too. I beat it, at least I thought I did, but now it's back."

"But..." The words were still stubbornly hiding in my brain. "...you've got all your hair."

 It probably would have been better if I'd just kept my mouth shut. I didn't know a thing about cancer, I clearly didn't know anything about anything at all. He hadn't seemed sick. Or had he? Why hadn't I paid closer attention? I glanced at him and scowled. He was smiling. Apparently my idiocy regarding serious illnesses was trumping the grimness of this discussion.

"You don't lose your hair from cancer," he said.

"Sure you do," I argued. "I've seen it on television. Everybody with cancer is bald."

"That's with treatment."

"Well people with cancer get treatment," I rolled my eyes.

His smile faded and he shrugged.

I didn't like that answer. He looked at me and all I could see was his weariness.

"Doctors are all supposed to be encouraging," he explained. "They say chemo and radiation and surgeries because they think it gives people hope."

"Doesn't it?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Not me. They say things like that like I don't know the odds. It's in other places now. My lungs... it's worse than last time. No one will say what it is but I know it all the same. I'm not going to get better."

"...Oh."

I wasn't giving the most stellar response to his condition, I knew that. But I was more used to being on the receiving end of bedside manner.

"I guess I was just fed up with it all," he said. "They're all acting like I've even got a fighting chance. I was waiting for one more specialist that day, one more doctor to tell me things that weren't useful to me, who would just dance around saying the one word that even applied to me anymore. I heard the nurses talking about you... the girl who looked death in the eye and laughed."

"I'm sure they didn't say that," I mumbled. I was feeling guilty now because I hadn't even wondered what Hex was doing at the hospital when he had overheard the nurses. 

"I guess not," he agreed. "But that's what I heard... I didn't plan on lying to you. Not at first. I just wanted to talk to you. I even found your room but... I chickened out. It felt crazy to just go up to you and say... I'm not even sure what I would have said."

I tried to imagine myself through Hex's eyes. But when he spoke it felt as if he was talking about a stranger. Like when people claimed witnessing the virgin Mary in a piece of toast. He had that faraway glint in his eyes and a small smile like he was imagining someone grand and spellbinding. Not me. Definitely not me.

"I went home," he said. "I tried to forget about you, but I couldn't. You were so brave and I was such a coward... I guess I thought a little courage would rub off on me if I met you. So I took my bike back to the hospital and asked to see you but you were leaving.  Just like that I knew I was going to do something stupid. I followed your car to your house."

"-On your bike?!" I asked.

He nodded.

"I followed you all the way to your block.. and then things felt crazy again. I don't know... I guess I wasn't thinking straight."

How must he  have felt?  Would I have been as rash and impulsive as him in that scenario? Of course, I thought. I was always impulsive.

"I paced outside of your door for a long time, I almost didn't knock... I guess I knew what it would seem like. Some weird guy showing up at your door saying he followed you on a bike because he heard about you from the nurses-"

"What ever happened to confidentiality?" I grumbled.

He continued without answering me.

 "I had come all that way and... well I guess it just felt like I was supposed to find you. And when that door finally opened and I was inside, talking to you the lie just came out. I was suddenly some sort of hero... it felt good. Actually, it felt great."

"You brought flowers," I said. I remembered them suddenly. The flopping, mangled bouquet that must have made the trip with him.

He looked sheepishly at his hands and admitted, "I just grabbed them from the hospital lobby when no one was looking..."

"Gee Hex," I tried to sound let down but it didn't really bug me. Here he was, sitting in the hospital with a terminal disease, and I hadn't brought him anything- stolen or otherwise.

He wore that goofy smile for a half a second, and then I watched it plummet from his face as he seemed to remember himself.

"I'm sorry I'm not your hero," he said. "I know I should have told you sooner... but I liked being the guy that saved the day for once. I liked being your friend."

I got out of the chair and gave his arm a little shove.

"We're still friends," I said. "Damn it, I really want to be mad at you right now. You would come clean from a hospital bed."

I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and let out a sigh. Dad was calling. I answered it with an eye roll. Here came the panic.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Maggie- where are you?! Your mom just called me. You know you're not supposed to be driving!"

Mom hadn't even tried calling me first. I felt a little let down, but Dad was a better bet for handling this situation rationally.

"I'm at the hospital," I said.

"- What happened? Did you crash the car? I'm on my way-"

"No, no- I'm okay," I explained. Hopefully Dad would still be able to hear me over his mad dash for his coat and keys. I could hear his car engine already. "It's Hex. He's..."

I stopped short of saying it. For some reason it was too difficult to say that Hex was sick.

"Hex is in the hospital," I finished the thought, quickly.

"I'm going to pick up your mom and we're coming to get you," Dad said, after a pause. "Don't go anywhere."

I turned off the phone with some exasperation and shoved it back into my pocket.

"Parents."

My sigh stopped as I turned to look at Hex and found him staring at the wall. I knew that look.

"You're leaving?" he asked.

"My Dad.. he's on his way," I said. "Maybe I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you kidding?" he asked me, glumly. "I'm pretty sure I'll be put on house arrest from here on out. My mom says she can't trust me."

"So I'll come over," I said.

But I understood as well as he did that the odds of his mom inviting me into his house weren't great. Not when her first impression of me was a book of suicides I'd lent her son right before he'd spent a night in freezing conditions contemplating the jump from a three story building. There had to be a way to win her over. Even I could probably muster some charm if I had to.

"Maggie." Hex took in a deep breath and I knew he was about to ask for something. "Will you help me?"

"Yeah," I said, eager to wipe that grim expression off of his face. "I'll help you with what ever, just name it. What do you want?"

In the pit of my stomach the knot started again. His eyes rose to mine, but the light was gone replaced by defeat.

"Will you help me die?"

It was only then that I realized I'd been wearing some stupid, accommodating smile- as if I had expected him to ask me to lend him some spare change, or get him a glass of water. It dropped and I took an involuntary step back.

"C'mon Hex," I said, a little cautiously. "You uh... you probably don't mean that."

"I do."

"No you don't." This time my voice was more firm. "You need to focus on feeling better and stuff like that."

"I already told you, I'm not getting better." Hex had never struck me as the type to have a quick temper, but his fuse seemed a little shorter at the moment. In a frustrated tone he added, "The worst part about cancer isn't being sick.. it's the helplessness. I feel like I'm sitting, rotting, waiting for it to take me. I don't want that. If I'm going to die-"

"Stop saying that!" I nearly shrieked. It even caught me off guard. I felt an embarrassed heat rise in my cheeks and said, softly this time, "Sorry... I just.. this is a lot to take in."

His disappointment weighed down the room and I struggled with the polarized instincts of running before things got more complicated and staying with a friend I had just barely gotten back.

"What does that even mean?" I asked, after a strained silence.

Hex shrugged and shook his head.

"I don't know yet," he admitted.

"You want to die?" I asked, fully aware of the irony that shadowed my incredulity.

"I'm going to," he said, without a tremor of doubt. "I don't have a choice about that. My only choice is how... and I'm not sure anybody knows my options quite as well as you do. That's what I mean, I think I was meant to meet you. Some how, when I'm around you, something like cancer just doesn't scare me."

Really? He was going to hit me with that while he was at it? I felt like his honesty had just sucker punched me in the gut.

"I..." How did somebody respond to that statement with out sounding like a jerk? "I should probably wait for my Dad... in the lot."

He didn't say much as I left. At least he didn't beg me to stay or give me big puppy dog eyes. Of course, the return of his cold gaze to the opposite wall could arguably be called worse. I gave him empty sentiments. The assurances that I would be back, the well wishing done clumsily and awkwardly as only I could manage, and a final wave before I walked out of the room, closed the door, and stopped holding my breath.

Coward. I thought to myself as I marched towards the doors that led to the stairs. I was a coward. I didn't even know if I could face Hex again after a conversation like that. But, of course, I would have to. I was even more afraid of never seeing him again.

I pushed into the stairwell and expected the typical hollow, open silence to relieve me of some of the thoughts burning holes in my mind. What I got was worse. Much worse. A thin, ragged sob echoed off of the walls. Hex's mom sat on the top step. She turned to see me, furiously wiping more tears from her cheeks, and took in a deep breath.

All I could manage to do was stop in my tracks and stare.

"I'm sorry," she said as she wiped her nose on the sleeve of her coat. "I must have scared you earlier... did he tell you?"

I nodded, silently, edging nearer in the vague hope of getting by her and then running for it. But when I got closer she started crying again, and digging into her bag to pull up frayed tissues.

"This bag," she muttered. "I can never find what I need... I'm Helen, by the way..."

"Maggie," I stammered. What did I do? Maybe I needed to pull a nurse into the stairwell to handle Helen's tears and comfort her.

"Hector likes you, Maggie," she said. Her voice was still a little choked but she was managing a small smile anyways. "I don't know much about you, and I don't understand what I do."

She meant the book. Now I could see it from her perspective and I thought it was a wonder she hadn't hit me when I had had the nerve to show up to her son's hospital room not even an hour after being told off over the phone.

"But..." She folded over the wadded tissue in her hands as she seemed to recollect her thoughts. "I'm not about to take away one of his only friends. So I'm telling you now... he needs hope. Right now things don't look great. He's refusing treatment and if he keeps that up... his chances go from bad to nonexistent. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I said, quietly.

"I can't get through to him," she continued. "I'm his mother, he doesn't want to hear the same thing again and again... but I think he would listen to you."

Listen? He had just ordered me to help him die. I felt another sick twist of nerves deep down and wondered if I was going to throw up.

"Please," she said, and her voice was wobbling. "He's my baby, he's all I have. Won't you just ask him to try?"

I swallowed a hard lump in my thoat. That wasn't what I had expected.

"You want me to tell him to get treatment?" I asked, just to be clear.

She broke into a true smile at that and got to her feet.

"Please," she said again. "I think you can get through to him, I really do. It would mean everything to me."

How could I have said no? I told her that I would try and fresh tears started bubbling out of her. She stood up and hugged me, as if we were suddenly the best of friends.

"Thank you," she kept saying, as if I had even done anything yet. I couldn't have been more relieved when my phone started ringing. It was the perfect excuse to get away and I hadn't even had to make it up. Helen left me with one final thank you and I raced down the steps

 When I got to the hospital parking lot Mom and Dad were both waiting, leaned against Dad's car. I couldn't quite manage to feel intimidated by them after everything that had happened today, but they really did look serious. Mom, as usual, was too angry to speak.

"You okay, Magpie?" asked Dad.

Mom let out a ferocious sigh that came out of her nostrils in steam against the icy cold.

 "Drive your daughter home," she told Dad. "I'm taking my car."

Dad looked at her, then me, and shrugged. I got into the passenger side of his car and didn't even bother to shove my feet on the dashboard, like I usually did. His car hadn't heated up yet, but the cold was a good distraction. Dad got in on the other side and didn't put the car in drive.

"Do I need to tell you that this was stupid?" he asked.

"No."

"Everytime you take off on us... the point is, we're worried."

"You're worried," I corrected him, watching Mom drive off ahead of us with a growing bitterness. I had probably just distracted her from work again.

Dad let out a deep breath and tapped his fingers along the steering wheel.

"We're both worried.." he insisted, but the resolve in his statement faltered a little. "How's Hex?"

I glanced back at the hospital building and resented myself for leaving so quickly. I should have overstayed my welcome, well past visiting hours, and made a nuisance out of myself like I imagined a good friend would. Instead I had done anything to get out, and in my haste I had left one person in there thinking I would help him die, and his mother thinking I'd help him live.

 I couldn't use the word 'cancer'. Somehow it was suddenly a hard word to pronounce. The two syllables carried too much weight on them.

So I kept my answer as honest and simple as possible.

"I don't know."