Here Comes The Sun

eleven

            "We discussed Elisa's department last night, but it was very late, so we fell asleep. Nothing more, nothing less," I explained. Hart nodded, but I could just feel him enjoying Dennis' suspicion. Little devil.

            All of the sudden, a song started playing from the television, therefore both Dennis and I looked at it. The intro didn't come in as familiar as the first verse that read: why the fuck you lying, why you always lying, oh my god, stop fucking lying. I looked over at Hart, who looked at the television with a blank expression, and started talking with a dry tone.

            "Oops, wrong song."

            This man – I had no words for Hart Feingold. It was dead silent after he had paused the song, and my swallowing sounded extremely loud in the quiet environment, until Dennis burst out in laughter, followed by Hart himself.

            "That man right there has some damn good humor!" he said as he dramatically grabbed his stomach and bended over as if he was dying – actually, maybe he was considering him breathing in like a dying whale.

            Hart laughed as hard, and I just stood there in the middle of those two morons trying my best to contain my own laughter and stay professional, although some innocent chuckles escaped my lips.

            "Good God," Dennis sighed eventually, "alright, alright. I have some serious news; you're all set to leave, Hart. All tests came out positive, so you're good to go."

            His mother didn't come to pick him up, instead, he limped down the corridors on the ground floor of the hospital all by himself. I secretly watched – more like spied on him from the main counter, holding the book I was reading right under my eyes to make my gaze less obvious. Unfortunately, the other two individuals behind the counter caught me just when they were passionately discussing the amazing graphics of the brand new live action movie The Lion King.

            "I can see what's happening," Dennis said.

            "What?" Chelsea asked, giggling straight after.

            "And they don't have a clue," Dennis continued.

            "Who?"

            "They'll fall in love, and here's the bottom line; our trio's down to two."

            "Oh, I get it."

            "Guys," I turned around and found Dennis wearing a disturbingly big grin on his face, whereas Chelsea hid her vicious smile behind her hand, still her raised eyebrows and innocent acting eyes gave their little act away. Two adults quoting The Lion King, deep down I loved them.

            My warning kept them quiet for a few seconds, until I turned around to see a man fancily suited up coming in, waving at Hart.

            "The sweet caress of twilight," Dennis whispered loudly enough for me to hear it,
  "there's magic everywhere. And with all this romantic atmosphere, disaster's in the air."

            "Can you feel the love tonight?" I sung as I gave Dennis a playful push.

            "I am so going to tell your mom," he said a little too excited.

            "You are so childish," I mimicked his tone of voice, causing him to offendedly frown his forehead. Fortunately, the taken offence disappeared within the fraction of a second, and he turned around to continue sorting papers, just like Chelsea.

            When my eyes found Hart's figure again, his eyes were set on me, and his face lit up as he had caught my attention. He gestured that I needed to come to him, then said something to the fancily dressed man who responded with a simple nod, and walked back to the entrance of the hospital. I left the counter and faced Hart on five meters distance from the counter, smiling almost disappointingly at him with my lips in a thin line – I wasn't delighted for his department, because I had never had such a bond with a patient, and the worst thing was that I knew so little about him. Hart succeeded in keeping every single thing secret from me in the six days I had gotten to 'know' him, except his endless love for The Beatles. And in those six days I had gotten to know him, I also didn't get the chance to figure myself and my very own thoughts out.

            Six days of looking into his divine eyes.

            "Nova," he started off, staring at me with the sparkles in his eyes which served as a beautiful distraction. I had almost lost track of what he was saying, and the lyrics of Can You Feel The Love Tonight repeatedly played inside my head. "I just want to thank you for caring for me and of course keeping me company."

            "It was my pleasure," I smiled.

            "My father's funeral will be held in two days." He compulsively looked around, making sure no one was listening. He seemed disordered and paranoid, and I thought of the results of his test. He was quite stable mentally. "We are keeping it a secret, because it won't be public like his wedding, even though he must've wanted it to be public. We just don't want to take any risks, you know."

            He took a step forward and talked a little more quiet. "Have you been on social media lately? Because it's spreading like wildfire that the terrorist are sending messages to me that I should've died during the wedding too, that they want to wipe out our whole entire family, and that I'm next to die a miserable death."

            I shook my head in disbelief. He was scared, I read it from his attitude.

            "There's a group of terrorist who hate my dad. They have a name and everything. I want to tell you this now, because I think it's smarter to not call you, they might be listening too; I want to invite you to my father's funeral."

            "Hart-"

            "Please come, I asked my family to send a letter to your house, so all the information is on there."

            "Hart, I feel honored to be invited, but why do you want me to be there?" I asked politely, truly not understanding the possible reasons behind that.

            "Just come," he whispered mysteriously, where after his concerned facial expression got traded in for his warm smile, "I just want you to be there."

            And with those words, he walked away. On his crutches.