Coffee Shop Soundtrack

I sighed and hit the power button on the remote. The hospital had four channels and nothing interesting was ever on. I looked around the room. Brochures for a substance abuse rehab center sat on the table next to me. Apparently my parents wanted me to be committed, but unless I became a danger to others it had to be voluntary.

My mom sat in the corner of the room playing games on her cell phone. She hasn’t left my side since I woke up.

I had to stay at the hospital for a couple more days, just for observation. But there wasn’t any brain damage, and according to the doctor it was a miracle I didn’t have any liver damage either.

I stared at the wall and listened to the bustling of nurses outside of my room. I heard doctors talking in medical terms and crates of supplies being pushed around. I heard a clicking of shoes getting louder until is stopped suddenly. My eyes shifted to the door and I witnessed a pair of black sandals that were the culprit of the clicking.

I knew she would come.

We made eye contact but didn’t say anything, not yet. I just needed a minute to look at her. Makenna shifted her weight onto her left foot.

“Mom,” I said, getting her attention. I nodded towards the door.

“Oh,” she said, surprised. Nobody has come to see me since Garrett left. “I think I’ll go get some food in the cafeteria.”

Makenna waited for my mom to make her exit before stepping up to the hospital bed.

“So he called you,” I said. I reached out and grabbed her hand. She seemed uncomfortable but didn’t pull away. “And you came.”

“I wasn’t going to, John,” she said, “Everyone told me not to.”

“Then why did you?”

She shrugged and her eyes became wet. She looked up at the ceiling and forced her tears back. “I needed to make sure you were okay. I needed to see it with my own eyes.”

I dropped her hand, even though I wanted nothing more but to hang on to it. “So where does he think you are?” I asked, referring to her husband. The image of the two of them standing together was branded into my brain.

“He knows I’m here.”

I let out a laugh. “What else does he know?”

“Don’t do that,” she said. “Don’t make me feel guilty right now.”

I looked away. I didn’t want to make her feel bad, but at the same time I did. She was the only reason I was even here right now. I cleared my throat. “Ashlyn and I, we broke up.”

“John,” she started, ignoring my statement. “Why are you here?” She put her hand to her temple. “I don’t get it, are you trying to kill yourself?”

I breathed in and let the air out with a huff. I wanted to scream that she was the reason why I was here. Instead I looked down at my lap. “You don’t get what it’s like,” I said. “Seeing you with him like that.”

“I saw you with Ash,” she said, “I know what it’s like."

I shook my head. “That’s not the same. I’m not married to Ashlyn. We never meant anything.” I sighed, “You’re the only one that ever meant anything.”

“If that’s true, if I meant anything to you at all, you wouldn’t do this to yourself,” she said, “And definitely not more than once.”

I looked up at her. “You knew?”

“Did you really think that Pat wouldn’t call me?”

I had asked him to call her, over and over again, the first time. He insisted that I didn’t need that, I didn’t need Makenna with me. And this entire time, he actually had called her back then. “You didn’t come.”

“John,” she said. “I had just gotten married. Did you really expect me to drop everything and fly to Chicago for you? I had done everything I could to make sure that you didn’t ruin my life again. And when he called me, when he told me that you almost drank yourself to death, I freaked out. I didn’t know if you were okay and the second I thought about making sure if you were, I immediately envisioned my life spiraling out of control again. I couldn’t do it."

“But you came this time,” I said.

She nodded. “My life is already crazy again, I figured it didn’t really matter anymore.” She picked up a brochure from the table. “Are you going to go?” She asked.

“I’m not addicted to alcohol, I just binge drink sometimes.”

“And you think that’s not a substance abuse problem?”

I shrugged.

“Do you love me?” she asked. “Do you really love me?”

“Of course,” I said softly.

She pursed her lips. “Go to rehab, don’t go to rehab. I don’t care.” She threw the brochure down on the table. “But if you love me, you’ll never do this to yourself again.” She paused and I realized that her eyes were watering again. “If something happened to you, it would destroy me, don’t you get that?”

“Ken,” I started.

“Don’t,” she said, cutting me off. “I have to go.” She wiped away a tear that managed to fall down her cheek, regardless of her efforts to hold it back. She lightly squeezed my arm and turned to leave.

“Kenna.”

She stopped and turned.

“It’s not going to happen again.”

She looked at me but didn’t say anything. She just nodded and left.