Don't Sleep Just Yet | Chapter 2

            “And that’s how we met.” Ansel concluded, finally ending his lively ramble that was directed at the cashier of the grocery store they were at.

            “I didn’t ask,” replied the cashier, who then gave him a vaguely frustrated and tight-lipped smile before turning to Darcy. “Debit?”

            “Yeah.” A bit flustered, Darcy briefly held up his card. The cashier pressed a few buttons on her screen, and then the card machine lit up, telling him to insert his card.

            “Then,” Ansel picked up right where he left off, as if just to spite the cashier, “we moved in together. See, I was lookin’ for a new place to stay, and this loser was still living in his dad’s basement.”

            “Ansel.” Darcy warned quietly as he pulled the card out of the machine. He realized he hadn’t put it in chip-first, so he rolled his eyes at himself and corrected it. He selected his chequing account, then typed in his pin when he was prompted. The payment went through, and the cashier handed him his receipt as Ansel grabbed two of the three bags of groceries. “Thanks.” He mumbled awkwardly, putting his card back into his wallet, and his wallet back into his pocket, before grabbing the remaining grocery bag and heading after Ansel.

            When they got outside, Darcy asked, “Why do you have to tell our story to everyone we meet?”

            “What? It’s not like they care.” Ansel retorted playfully.

            “That’s exactly my point.”

            “Look, I’m just excited that we moved in together.”

            “That was two months ago!”

            “And I’m still in my honeymoon phase, what about you?”

            Darcy shook his head. “Man, you’re a freak.”

            “Well, you’re still a loser, so who wins?”

            As they shared a laugh, Darcy adjusted his scarf with his free hand, pulling it back up to his nose. It had grown cold early that year, but little snow stuck to the ground. It wasn’t uncomfortably cold outside, just chilly enough for Darcy to want a scarf. Ansel wore a thin black coat over his hoodie, which he made a point of wearing every day, it seemed.

            They had moved in together in an apartment about a block away from the grocery store. It wasn’t a very good area, but there was a parking garage behind it that offered free parking for residents, and it was in their combined price range (which was mostly Darcy’s, since Ansel only worked the occasional odd job), so who was Darcy to complain? Ansel just seemed happy to have a roof over his head, but still wouldn’t say much about his old friend.

            Just then, Ansel’s cellphone dinged in his sweater’s pocket. Darcy glanced at him, but Ansel didn’t even glance down.

            “Sounds like you just got a text.” Darcy observed.

            “Yep.” Ansel confirmed.

            “Shouldn’t you check it?”

            “My hands are kinda full right now, buddy.”

            Darcy looked ahead as they kept walking. “It’s just, you never check who’s been texting you when I’m around.”

            “Because I know it’s not you texting me.”

            “So? What does that even mean?”

            “It means that it’s him.” Ansel answered. Darcy knew he was again referring to his former friend, the one he crashed with prior to moving to their apartment.

            “Are you ever going to tell me about him?” The doctor questioned. “I mean, it’s been two months, and he’s still texting you at least once every hour? And you’re not even sleeping any better.”

            Ansel huffed. “Darc, I don’t know what you want me to say. He’s a psycho. I really just want to put him in my past.”

            “Then block his number, for crying out loud.”

            “He’s a psycho.” Ansel stressed. “I’d rather he be texting me every hour than have him hunt me down and fillet me, or whatever the hell he wants.”

            Darcy stayed silent for a moment, as if he felt somewhat shamed. Then, he mumbled, “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I have no right to butt in and tell you what to do.” He got no response, so he looked at Ansel, who seemed to be struggling a bit with the two bags. He had taken the heaviest in his left hand, which was his non-dominant one. “Here, let me carry that one for you.”

            “I got it,” insisted Ansel, “I got it.”

            When they got to their apartment building, they took the elevator up to the fourth floor. Darcy, who had a mild fear of elevators, usually preferred to take the stairs, but he made an exception when he and Ansel were carrying things such as grocery bags. Ansel did not necessarily share Darcy’s phobia, but he understood why the doctor would have such a fear; being a doctor, he must have seen the results of some tragic accidents at least once in his career.

            Once out of the elevator, the duo headed to their apartment, number 407. Since he had a hand free, Darcy unlocked the door and stepped in first. They set the bags down in the kitchen, then looked at each other.

            “Man, I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you tonight.” Ansel remarked.

            “You know, you don’t have to stay here alone.” Darcy reminded him. “You’re more than welcome to come. It’ll just be my dad and I otherwise.”

            Ansel scoffed lightly and nodded. “Yeah, I know that, but I also know how much you miss your dad. You’ve been talking about this visit for weeks.” He began to unpack the contents of the bags onto the counters, then added, “I wouldn’t dare take time away from you and your old man by being a third wheel.”

            Darcy started helping Ansel, but when the slightly-shorter man gently denied the assistance, he opted to sigh and lean against the counter instead. “I should go now, but I just don’t feel like it’s right to leave anyone alone on Thanksgiving.” He said.

            “I’ll be fine.” Ansel smiled at his messy-haired friend. “Just go and enjoy yourself, Peanut.”

            Darcy grinned and rolled his eyes. The nickname “Peanut” was a term of endearment that Ansel had started using on him after seeing him eating a can of salted peanuts. It went without saying that Darcy really liked eating peanuts of any sort. Ansel called it an obsession, and in all honesty, the doctor wasn’t entirely sure if he could argue. “Alright,” he finally gave in, “I’ll be back in a few hours. Take care of yourself while I’m gone.” He headed for the door, opening it.

            “Be careful driving. Roads might be slippery.”

            “I will. See you.”

            “I’ll be here.”

            With that, Darcy left, locking the door behind him. Ansel looked at the groceries and exhaled. He glanced almost unconsciously toward the answering machine and found that there were three messages on voicemail, so he walked over and pressed play.

            “You have three unread messages,” reported the electronic voice.

            “Yeah, no s**t.” Ansel mumbled.

            “Message one: left Thursday, November 24^th, 2016 at 5:02 PM.”

            Ansel glanced at the digital clock that sat on top of their cheap television set. It was 6:30 in the evening, and they had left at 5:00, two minutes before the message was left. “Damn, were we really out that long…?”

            “Darcy, it’s dad.” A male voice began. Ansel paid attention, not so much to what was being said, but to the voice itself. He had never heard Darcy’s father before, and he was curious. “Just checking in to make sure you’re coming over tonight. Call me if you get this, please.” There was a pause. “Err, actually, don’t. Call me if you’re not coming. We need to talk. Alright.”

            “End of message.”

            Ansel thought for a moment. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Darcy’s father sounded nervous about something. Frightened, even. Though he worried a bit about what the man was talking about, and if Darcy would be alright, he decided to let the messages continue as he headed back into the kitchen to sort out the groceries he’d unpacked.

            The next message was from someone Ansel himself had done an odd job for, at 6:11 PM. They were calling to ask if he’d be interested in doing another odd job for them after the weekend, and to call them if he was. They left their number just in case he’d forgotten, which he hadn’t since he already had it written down.

            Ansel was reaching up to put something into the cupboard when the third message began. It had been left just ten minutes before he and Darcy got home.

            “Hey, Ansel. It’s Jay.”

            The voice he heard on the machine made Ansel drop the box he was holding. It hit the counter with a loud thud, but Ansel just stared ahead, petrified.

            “Yeah, I know, you’re probably surprised to hear from me, but I had no other choice, man. You stopped replying to my texts. I’m worried about you. I got your phone number from someone you worked with. Who’s this Darcy guy?”

            Ansel was hardly thinking as he strode toward the answering machine. He was about to press the delete button when his former friend continued.

            “Have you been sleeping? I doubt it. Look, just talk to me, man. Text me back. Call me. Answer the phone when I call again, and I will call again. If you don’t, I… I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be pretty. I need to see you. I need to�"”

            Ansel pressed his finger down on the red button it had been hovering over.

            “Message deleted. You have zero unread messages.”

            For a long moment, Ansel just stood there, staring at the glowing “0” on the answering machine. He really couldn’t run from his past forever, could he? His phone dinged again. Blindly, he pulled the device from his pocket, unlocking it and looking at the text. It was from Jay, of course.

            “Did you get my message?” It asked.

            Ansel closed his texts and pressed the power button on his phone, allowing its screen to darken. Without looking, he put the phone back into his pocket. He had to keep Darcy out of this. The doctor could never know.

---

 

            As Darcy drove, he had his phone plugged into his dashboard. He was listening to his downloaded songs on shuffle. The doctor was unashamed to sing along with music in his car, so when he stepped on the gas pedal after the stop light on an intersection turned green, he started to tap his fingers on the steering wheel.

            “In the night, she hears him callin’. In the night, she’s dancin’ to relieve the pain, but she’ll never walk away~.” He sung in a low voice. “I don’t think you understand.”

            The roads were rather empty, which wasn’t much of a surprise to Darcy, seeing as it was Thanksgiving. Everyone was probably inside their homes already, whether they were celebrating the holiday or not. Darcy himself was lucky to get Thanksgiving off from work, but he had been saving up the hours he was allowed to take off for at least two of his three years as a doctor, so he had a lucky out.

            He was very excited to see his father. The last time he had visited had been the day after he moved into the apartment with Ansel. It was dark outside, and it got Darcy’s imagination running in his head, but he ignored his mind and just kept driving.

            “In the night, when she comes crawlin’, dollar bills and tears keep fallin’ down her face. She’ll never walk away~.”

            That was when he spotted someone standing at a crosswalk. The light was green, so Darcy didn’t slow down, but he found himself a bit scared. He could make out little of the figure there, since it almost seemed to be more of a silhouette than a person, but he could see that it had its arms extended at its sides, and it looked like it had messy hair. If Darcy didn’t know any better, he could have sworn that it turned itself as he passed, staring him down with glowing blue eyes.

            Though he was a tad spooked, once he had driven past the crosswalk, the doctor shook his bad feeling off and turned up his music. “And I know that she’s capable of anything, it’s riveting, but when you wake up she’s always gone, gone, gone~!”

---

 

            It was ten past seven when Darcy pulled his car into park in his father’s driveway. He unplugged his phone from his dashboard, then decided to send a text to Ansel.

            “Made it here safely.” He wrote. “Are you alright?”

            There wasn’t a timely response, so Darcy closed his texts and turned off his phone’s screen before putting it into the pocket of his long white coat. After turning off his car’s engine, the doctor stepped out of his vehicle and headed up the steps to the front door. Then, he knocked a melodic knock, his sort of “trademark”, and waited for a moment. Less than a minute later, his father, who was three inches shorter than him and was wearing round-rimmed glasses, opened the door.

            “Dad.” Darcy greeted with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you.” However, his bad feeling came back when he saw how emotional his dad looked.

            “Darcy…” Suddenly, the older man hugged his son tightly, digging his fingers into the back of his coat.

            “Dad,” Darcy laughed nervously, “is everything okay?”

            “Yeah.” His dad answered. “Yes, everything’s fine. I just… I missed you, is all.”

            Darcy hugged his father back, patting his old man. “I missed you too, dad.”

            Mr. Adair had been divorced by his wife when Darcy was very young, however, it wasn’t a divorce fuelled by hatred. Darcy’s mother, a woman named Isabelle, just needed some time on her own to get her life sorted, and besides that, she and her husband just didn’t love each other anymore. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t love her son, however; she just thought it would be best to leave him with his father, since she knew she wouldn’t have the time to be a proper mother to him anyway. Or, at least, that was the story his father had told him. There were apparently no hard feelings on either side, but now that Darcy had moved out, the doctor figured his father must have been lonely.

            After he and his father started eating together, Darcy finally noticed that there was a strange emptiness in the air. Neither of them really seemed to know what to say to the other, and Darcy couldn’t shake the feeling that something was really bugging his father, what with the way his hands trembled as he ate.

            It must have been about five minutes before Darcy finally spoke up, asking, “Is everything really alright? You don’t look so good.” He got no response, though, so he cut a slice of turkey with his knife and started to bring it up to his mouth with his fork.

            “Darcy, have I told you recently how proud I am of you?”

            Darcy closed his mouth and put his fork down against his plate. “Uh… Well, you don’t need to say it for me to know.”

            His father nodded a bit. He quivered before continuing, with his voice cracking occasionally from emotion: “Well… I’m so proud of you, son. You’ve made me so happy. I’m a very proud father.”

            Darcy felt his brows furrow almost against his own will, and his eyes started to water a little, so he started trying to blink back his tears. “Dad…” He smiled.

            Mr. Adair took his napkin and used it to dab at the corners of his own eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… I have to let you know just how much I love you. You’re more important to me than anything else in the whole world. I just wanted you to know that.”

            “Dad, I already knew that.” Darcy quipped. “I love you, too. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

            That last sentence made Mr. Adair avert his eyes from his son altogether. “How’s your friend?” He asked.

            “Ansel?” Darcy poked at the turkey on his plate with his fork. “He’s still not sleeping very much. I’m a little worried about that. He seems alright, though. I was thinking about prescribing him some sleep aids.”

            “Don’t.”

            Darcy raised a brow. “Why not?”

            Mr. Adair changed the subject again. “Did you see it while you were driving here?”

            “See what? I’m confused.”

            “Did you see anything?”

            “Um…” Darcy tapped his fork against his plate in thought. “I mean, there was this creepy fellow at the crosswalk, but other than that, no.”

            “What did he look like?” His father seemed uncharacteristically serious.

            “I couldn’t tell. Dad, what’s this all about?”

            Mr. Adair looked down at his plate. “Nothing.” He muttered. “It’s nothing.”

            They didn’t say much of anything to each other until about half an hour later, when Darcy was getting ready to leave. Ansel hadn’t replied to his text, and in fact, hadn’t even read it yet, and for some reason he couldn’t entirely explain, that made Darcy feel a bit nervous.

            “I’d better get going.” He declared, but then noticed the dishes. “Oh. Actually, I’ll stay to�"”

            “Nonsense.” His father assured him. “You’re a guest in this house now. I can handle a few dirty dishes.”

            Darcy smiled down at his father, then hugged him once more. They shared the embrace, and as they did, Darcy heard his father whisper something in his ear.

            “It will come to you as a former patient, but don’t let it into your office,” it sounded like. “Be careful.”

            “What?” Darcy mumbled back.

            His father pulled back from the hug, patting his son twice on the arm. “On the drive home. Take care. It’s dark out there.”

            “No, the part about the former patient.”

            His father shook his head. “I just said how much I love you. You must have misheard me.”

            Darcy found no reason to be suspicious, so he assumed he had just severely misunderstood his father’s words. “I love you too, dad.”

---

 

            By 8:30, Darcy was home. He let himself into the apartment, and was about to announce his entrance to Ansel until he saw feet dangling over the side of the couch. The TV was on, but the volume was low, so Darcy took off his boots, scarf, and coat, then quietly approached the sofa. He found Ansel laying on the couch, and if the man wasn’t asleep, then he was at least close enough to it to not stir when the doctor approached.

            Happy that his friend was finally getting some much needed rest, Darcy decided not to bother him, and instead went into the bedroom to prepare to go to sleep himself.

            The following morning, Darcy woke up early. Ansel was sitting at the kitchen table, doing something on his phone.

            “Have you been up very long?” Darcy asked as he walked into the kitchen, talking to Ansel through the space between the kitchen counter and the cupboards above it. The doctor poured himself a cup of coffee and put bread into the toaster to make himself some toast.

            “Yeah.” Ansel answered off-handedly.

            “How long?”

            “Since ten last night or something.”

            “Something the matter?”

            “I’m fine.”

            Darcy sighed. His toast popped up, and he began spreading butter over it. “Did I do something to piss you off?” He questioned.

            Ansel looked at his friend. “No. Why?”

            “It’s just, last night, my dad seemed upset. Now you seem frustrated, too. I feel like I’m to blame.”

            “I’m just frustrated that I couldn’t sleep more than three hours.” Ansel told him. “And I’m sure your dad wasn’t upset with you.”

            Fueled by that reassurance, Darcy took his coffee with him downstairs. He drove to the hospital and set himself up for the day. Everything was going normal as usual, but Darcy was sitting in his office, dwelling on his father’s strange behavior the prior night, when there was an urgent knock on his door.

            “It’s open,” He called. When the person on the other side of the door only knocked rougher, he stood up with a huff and approached the bright yellow door, pulling it open. He was startled to see Ansel there.

            “Darcy.” Ansel said. He looked worried.

            “Ansel.” Darcy was stunned. “What are you doing here?”

            “We need to talk. Right now.”

            Something didn’t feel right. Still, it was Ansel. What was the worst that could happen? “About what?” The doctor asked.

            “I’m seeing s**t, Darc. Like, really seeing it. I’m going crazy. Let me in, please.”

            He had never heard Ansel so freaked out. It was rare for the man to ever say “please”, too, which only added to Darcy’s concern. So, he stepped aside, allowing Ansel to rush in, and then he closed the door. “Ansel,” he began, “you didn’t need to come all the way here just to talk to me, you know? You could’ve just�"” When Darcy turned around, Ansel wasn’t there. “�"called me. Wh�"… Where’d you go?”

            There was another door in Darcy’s office that led to a private exam room, but it creaked when it moved on its hinges, and Darcy hadn’t heard it. He was truly stumped, so he pulled out his phone and sent Ansel a text.

            “Where did you go?” He interrogated.

            A few seconds later, Ansel replied, “What do you mean?”

            “You were just in my office.”

            “Um, no? You have the car. How would I even get there?”

            There was another knock on the door, so Darcy, flustered, opened it. He saw Dr. Park standing there, which made him even more confused. The female doctor hardly ever even acknowledged his existence. In fact, the only time they ever talked was when Darcy wanted her to deliver bad news to patients for him. “Dr. Park?”

            “Dr. Adair.” She said his name in a low, serious tone. She seemed almost sympathetic, though about what, Darcy was unsure. He was baffled.

            “Uh, what, uh… What is it?”

            “I’m sorry.” The woman handed him a folder, which he took. It was his father’s medical records.

            “I don’t understand.” He told her. “These are�"”

            “Yes. Your father, he…” She trailed off, as if trying to find the strength to continue. Darcy stared at her with wide eyes, giving her his full attention as his heart started to pound in his ears. Finally, she resumed, and what she said next brought Darcy to his knees.

            “Your father was found a few minutes ago. It looks like he committed suicide. I’m sorry.”