The Holt Conundrum

fourth september

               

It's September and Holt asks me to go to the hospital with him.

            I know that something had been bothering him lately, like he was building up the courage to spill something until he finally did this morning when he asks me if I could go to the hospital with him.

            The hospital is not far, he could have easily gone on his own, but I'm assuming that this little trip isn't about getting a free ride from me and more about having me there with him.

When we get inside the hospital he doesn't asks at a nurse desk about directions he just strolls directly to his destination. And he waves to a couple of people like it's not his first time here and I'm freaking out because if Holt is about to tell me he's got some kind of incurable disease and he's going to die, I'm going Romeo and Juliet on his ass.

But instead of going to a doctor's office we head to a patients room and he asks one of the nurse on the floor "How is she?"

She replies, "Same old, same old."

And then we walk into a room and there's a woman lying on a bed with her eyes closed and a few tubes connected to her and she looks old enough to be his...

I look at Holt, waiting for him to say something.

He walks up to the lady, takes her hand, but her eyes never open, still he tells her, "Hi Mom, it's Holt. I brought someone today. It's Eliah. I've told you about him."

God dammit. That's his mom. That's Holt's mom. I can't cry, I have to hold it in, because this isn't about me, but god dammit Holt.

So I just wave a little and say a very weak, "Hi."

Holt takes a couple of steps back, and with his eyes fixed on the ground says, "I don't talk a lot about my family."

"I know..."

"It's because I didn't have the greatest childhood."

"I figured..."

"I can't exactly complain, I had a roof over my head and food every day, not always enough but always some, and yeah..." he takes a deep breath, "some people had it rougher."

And here I was thinking I was done getting my heart broken by Holt, that he couldn't find a new way to crush it. "That should never undermine what you went through. Just because someone went through something worse somewhere doesn't negate what happened to you."

            He nods a little and then takes another deep breath, like he's getting ready to pour his heart out. And he does. "I have three brothers. All older. All spitting images of my father. My father would be your textbook definition of white trash. I hate him. He was... rough with us. My father always said I was just like my mother, but that wasn't exactly right. She let him hit her all the time. I usually fought back. It was often useless, but at least I was trying to stop him, unlike my mom. One day she did something, I don't even remember what it was, but it completely set him off. We lived in an old decrepit house with a basement straight out of a horror movie. He pushed her down the stairs. At least, that's what I saw. That's what I told everyone happened. My father still denies it. My brothers back him up. I'm the lying hysterical kid that makes up stories. It's going to be ten years soon, that my mother is in a coma because of that fall. My mom's family has been able to stop him from pulling the plug so far, but I don't think we have much time left. They've basically been saying yes to any research or tests doctors have wanted to do on her, so that's actually gotten a lot of her medical bills covered, but I think soon we'll have to start paying again, and my dad doesn't have insurance anymore and anyway he's dirt poor and my mom's family can't pay them either..." Holt finally stops speaking, takes a breath to recompose himself and adds, "so, they're going to pull the plug soon."

"God dammit Holt," I say and then I just grab him in my arms and I hug him. It has nothing to do with doing this for myself and everything to do with comforting my best friend. And he hugs me back and he clutches the back of my jacket and his body shakes with silent sobs and he's got his forehead against my shoulder and I can't believe he's kept all of this in for all these years.

Here I was thinking I knew Holt, when I knew nothing. I feel like Jon Snow.

I also feel like finding his father and beating him up with his own spine. The fucking bastard.

"It's going to be okay Holt," I tell him, but don't let go.

He doesn't either.