Chapter 24

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CHARACTER VIEWS DO NOT REPRESENT MY OWN. Please be civil in the comment section.

I drove through diagonal sheets of rain, the windscreen wipers swishing up and down, the sky bruised blue and darkening. I couldn't relax; shoulders pulled forward, tensed back, stiff fingers on the wheel. The one time I hoped for traffic on crossed fingers and the roads were deserted. I saw one truck and a yawning driver and a couple entering a restaurant and not a whole lot else.

Keeping just under the speed limit, I arrived at the hospital in a little over fifteen minutes. A hunched figure was waiting at the entrance, rain spattering on his soaked hair, skinny arms quivering slightly. Even as I beeped at Irvin and reached over to open the passenger door for him, I wished I was anywhere else but here. I wanted to slam my foot on the accelerator and leave him in his bubble of misery. Just the thought of consoling him made me uncomfortable, his problems were too depressing-and even more so when I saw his puffy purple eye and split lip. Then I got mad at myself: I was so fúcking selfish, so self-absorbed and buried up my own ass. "Cole did this?"

"I deserved it," he muttered crossly, slamming the door.

"I'll walk you inside. Get you cleaned up." I motioned to the doors of the hospital.

"No."

"But-"

"I SAID, NO!"

"OK. Alright." I backed off and drove out of the hospital staff carpark. I turned the radio on to some late night talk show and kept the volume loud enough to fill the silence but low enough so we couldn't make out exactly what the host was saying.

After a while of aimless driving, he shifted and cleared his throat, getting ready to speak. I cared for Irvin, I really truly did but goddamn it, if he cried I'd tap his knee and mumble something incoherent. If I was brave enough, I'd rush out onto the road and keep running 'till I put enough distance between us. And then return when he was better. When he wasn't this mopey mess. "I was supposed to be there for her."

I waited for the rest, anxiously buzzing, waiting for the right moment to express how sorry I am and to offer up the rest of my sympathy.

"My uncle had gone back to his hotel room and she was old and weak and she needed my help. She had a fall. Smashed her head, bled on the tiles for hours. I got back and she was gone. I didn't even..." it was like he had been reading a script, he was a terrible actor, voice toneless and dull but now he struggled to keep up the façade and his voice shook. "I didn't even get to say-" a deep breath "goodbye, man. I couldn't tell her anything. She just stared at me."

"Christ. Irvin. I'm sorry. I-"

He shook his head. His eyes were set deep into his face and clear of any emotion, just seeing, a one way mirror and his face was relaxed in a way that was unsettling. Too forced. If he cried it would've been better but he continued on as if he was describing the weather. "It's weird. She would've been alive if ..." he gestured to his face. "Ah, man. Life is weird. You never realise how the actions of others affect you until shit like this happens. Am I making sense?"

"Yeah." I didn't know what else to say. I was going back on my hopes: Now I wished he wept because unaffected Irvin didn't seem ...right. "So, what's going to happen now?"

"The funeral. That shithead is going to arrange it at the mosque. And he wants me to go and live with his family in Iran."

"Wait. How does he know about...?"

"I called him. He was the one who drove us to the hospital."

"You shouldn't go. I highly doubt it'll be safe."

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