“Sage advice. I can see why you’re so good at your job,” Yoss said. “It’s obvious you found something you really enjoy doing. I don’t know if you realize that your face lights up when you’re filling out forms,” Yoss teased and I laughed.
“I’m not that much of a nerd, but yeah, I really like my job. It gives me something to focus on. To feel like I’m making a difference. I like to feel needed, I guess.”
“I suppose it’s not hard to figure out what made you get into social work.” Yoss finally took a bite of his pizza but seemed to struggle to swallow it.
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked with concern. Yoss took a drink of water and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“I’m fine. It’s just been a long time since I’ve eaten greasy food. It’ll take my body some time to remember how much I like it,” Yoss said, taking another bite.
I frowned, not quite believing his answer, but he was eating, that was the important thing.
“After being on the streets I knew that I wanted to help people like us. I hadn’t really planned to work at the hospital, but when I graduated from college and moved back home it was the only opening in my field. It all worked out though. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
While I was speaking his face had become incredibly pale. His mouth was pinched and he seemed to be breathing heavily. He closed his eyes as if in pain.
“Yoss—”
“I need to use the restroom. Do you know where it is?” he asked suddenly, getting to his feet. I pointed towards the direction of the bathrooms and watched as he walked unsteadily away.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Then fifteen.
I had paid the bill and boxed up the remaining pizza and still Yoss hadn’t returned.
Getting worried that he had climbed out of the bathroom window, I made my way towards the back of the restaurant. I knocked on the door of the men’s restroom.
“Yoss? Are you okay?” I called out.
I heard the lock click and the door opened revealing Yoss. His face was wet as if he had splashed himself with water. He looked awful. The dark circles beneath his eyes were prominent and he appeared to be having difficulty staying on his feet.
“I think I need to go back to your place and lie down. I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t have eaten so much pizza,” he grimaced. I didn’t point out that he had barely eaten anything.
“What’s wrong? Did you get sick?”
“I’m just not feeling that great. My body isn’t used to eating so well is all. Seriously I’ll be fine once I lie down for a little while,” Yoss placated, stepping out of the bathroom.
“I think we should go to the hospital to get you checked out—”
“I’m fine, Imi. I promise,” Yoss insisted.
“You need to call Dr. Howell. At least see what he has to say,” I went on.
“If I still feel like shit after resting, then I’ll call him. Is that a deal?” Yoss snapped, obviously getting testy.
“Fine,” I snapped back, worried about the dull look in his eyes. Terrified about his health that seemed to be failing right before my eyes.
Yoss took my hand. “Stop looking like that,” he pleaded.
I frowned. “Like what?”
“Like I’m going to keel over at your feet. It doesn’t do a lot for a guy’s positive thinking,” he chuckled.
“Let’s get you home then.” I gave his hand, still wrapped around mine, a tug and he followed me out of the restaurant.
I looked back at him and he was grinning.
