“If I had left...”
“If you’d left, those four guys would’ve still been drunk and one of them would’ve still had a gun in his jacket. Something could’ve happened anyway. Maybe next week. Maybe to somebody else. You didn’t cause this. You were the target of it. There’s a huge difference there. Trust me, Mickey wouldn’t want you to feel guilty. We’ve already discussed it. He doesn’t blame you.”
He says it like a cop. You were the target, not the cause. It’s a clean distinction. My brain understands it. The rest of me doesn’t.
He stretches out his long legs. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Sure.”
“Do you know Mickey some way? From before, I mean.”
“No,” I say. “I’d never seen him before. I don’t know him. Never met him. Don’t know anything about him. I’m not even from here, which you’ve probably figured out. I’m from Miami. I’m only in town for work. I’m a wedding planner.”
“Listen to me then,” he says. “Mickey’s going to be here a while. He’s got me. He’s been my best friend since we were little kids. We’re as close as brothers. Sheila’s coming when she can. He’s not alone. You don’t need to be sitting down here in this waiting room, praying or whatever you’re doing. He’s being taken care of and he will be taken care of. He’s family and we take care of our own. You don’t need to worry about him. Not anymore.”
“I understand. I know I don’t need to be here.”
He picks up the second coffee he set on the armrest and holds it out to me. “Here. I was taking it back up to Mickey but he can share mine. I doubt he’s supposed to be drinking coffee today anyway.”
I take the coffee. “Thank you,” I say. “Is Stormy up there with him now? He was nice to me at the hospital. He came out to the hallway and hugged me.”
“No, Stormy’s back at the bar helping Sheila. He told me about that hug. He was worried. Said he wasn’t sure if he did it right. He doesn’t have a lot of experience in giving hugs or getting them. We’re working on it. He’s a lot better than he was this time last year.”
I let out a laugh. It hurts my ribs and my eyes fill up. I’m not sure if I’m laughing or crying. “It was the worst hug I’ve ever received,” I say. “You can tell him it was also the best. The very best. I like him.”
Tex nods and stands up. He looks down at me again in the plastic chair with my bruised face and whatever he sees there helps him make a decision.
“I’m going back up, but I’ll be heading out in a little bit,” he says. “He’s in Room 503. Spinal unit. He just got settled in but he’s awake. If you want to go up later...” He stops and shrugs. “Well, that’s entirely up to you. I can’t tell you what to do.”
He walks to the elevator and he’s gone. Room 503. I shouldn’t go up there. Not today. Mickey just got here. He’s a severely injured man who doesn’t know me. I’m the reason he’s in that room. It might even be traumatic to see me.
At least I have a room number now. And Tex sort of invited me to go up in an offhand way.
My phone buzzes.
Dante:Did you get there safely?
Benji:I’m here.
Dante:And?
Benji:I’m sitting in the lobby drinking coffee and counting goldfish laps.
Dante:Why?
Benji:They’re very compelling fish.
Dante:Not what I meant. I’m worried about you. What happened to him is not something you can fix by sitting in a building. You know that, right?
Benji:I know that too.
Dante:How long are you staying there?
Benji:I’m leaving soon. Tex gave me an update and his room number. I’m coming back tomorrow.
Dante:We need to talk about this, Benji. Call me later when you get back to the condo.
Benji:I will.
