Don't Sleep Just Yet | Chapter 10 [End 1/2]

            It was five o’clock in the evening on December 24^th. Darcy Adair was sitting quietly on the couch. The television was off, but the lights were on. It was dead silent in the apartment. Nothing was the same with Ansel in the hospital. The apartment just felt… empty without him.

            Over the course of the month, Ansel had stayed in a room at the hospital. His physical and mental states had both deteriorated, and though he could hardly stand and was losing weight at a rapid pace, he still smiled whenever he saw Darcy. He rarely spoke, however, and sometimes, he only seemed to be half-conscious. Seeing his best friend this way killed Darcy a little more with each passing day. That was why, on the 22^nd, he stopped going to work. He couldn’t will himself to see Ansel anymore. It would be the death of him. At the same time, though, he felt absolutely abysmal about leaving him all alone. He couldn’t win. As he sat on the couch, he had his hands buried in his hair, which was messier than normal. It was almost harder to tell which of the two of them was in a worse state. Darcy could hardly function.

            His last visit with Ansel, on the night of the 21^st, he had done nothing but cry at the foot of Ansel’s bed.

            “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he’d wept. “We were supposed to have a happy ending. You aren’t supposed to die.”

            “Don’t cry, Peanut,” was all Ansel had responded with.

            It had finally started to really snow outside earlier that month. It was piling on the roads and sidewalks, much more than it usually did this time of year. Snow days were called left and right, but despite this, it still wasn’t overwhelmingly cold outside.

            Sitting on the couch reminded him of Ansel, but then again, so did the entire apartment. Thoughts of his best friend tormented him. He couldn’t help but feel like the young man’s rapid descent into illness was his fault. He had dragged him along that day. He had decided to diagnose him merely with insomnia and anxiety rather than do any examinations. His lack of knowledge had cost Ansel his future, not that knowing anything about his condition probably would have helped anything.

            He could lose anyone. His father, his mother, fine. He could lose anyone. Anyone but Ansel. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. Dr. Park had been the only person to come out of November 28^th without any distress. All she seemed concerned about was how Darcy seemed increasingly closed off to any outside help. He wanted to wallow in his misery alone.

            By this point, he had only known Ansel for about four months, but somehow, he had loved that man like his own family from day one. He didn’t know how he would live without him. He would be all alone after Ansel died. For the first time in his life, the doctor found himself honestly contemplating suicide.

---

 

            It was as normal a night as ever for everyone else. The grocery store had two hours until closing, and a cashier was working her normal shift, dealing with normal customers. That was, until a man who looked like he was on death’s door stepped in front of her. She recognized him as a regular, albeit one she hadn’t seen in over a month, but she didn’t say anything until she rung up his only purchase: a box of jelly-filled donuts. “Where’s your friend?” She asked when she finally did speak.

            “How much?” He ignored her question and spoke in a weak, slurred pant. She thought that maybe he was drunk, but he smelled more like a hospital than alcohol.

            “Four ninety-nine.” She answered, putting the donuts in a bag and placing it on the surface to her left. The man slapped down a twenty dollar bill, but as she was about to get him his change, he grabbed the bag and took off. “Wait!” She called after him. “This is too�"” �"he was gone�" “�"much…” Deciding it was his loss, she sighed, shrugged it off, and turned her attention onto the next customer.

---

 

            Darcy wasn’t sure how long he sat on the couch with his head in his hands, but it must have been a long time. From the bedroom, he heard his cellphone start ringing, but he paid it no mind; he figured it was either Dr. Park calling in concern for his wellbeing, or Dr. Park calling him with bad news about Ansel, neither an option that he could handle at that given moment. He just kept sitting there, trying not to think about anything but the darkness before his closed eyes.

            Two minutes later, the landline started to ring. He didn’t move to answer it, but at the same time, he didn’t move to turn off the answering machine, either. He would just have to face whatever he heard, because he couldn’t will himself to do so much as twitch.

            “Hey, you’ve reached the home phone of Darcy Adair�"”

            “�"and Ansel Hunnisett.”

            “We can’t come to the phone right now, so feel free to leave a message after the beep, and we’ll call you back once we get the chance!” His own voice, so happy, sounded so foreign to him.

            Beep.

            “Darcy…”

            The doctor’s head shot up when he heard what he could have sworn was Ansel’s voice on the answering machine. Beyond that, though, he didn’t move. He just stared off at nothing, paralyzed, as the voice continued.

            “It’s me. I checked myself out. If I’m gonna die, I sure as hell ain’t gonna do it in a s****y hospital bed.” He let out a forced chuckle. It sounded like it was taking him a lot of strength to talk, and when he resumed, he sounded sad. “Look, I… I know it’s selfish of me to force you to be around me right now. I must look like death… but I don’t want to be alone, Darcy.” He was growing emotional, and he was struggling to keep his voice from cracking, but to no avail. “It was hellish walking all the way here, you know? My boots suck. But I… I did it because I don’t think… I don’t think I have very much time left, Peanut… I’m downstairs. First floor, at the staircase. I… I can’t make it up the stairs on my own, man. I feel like I’m on my last legs. So… come get me. Or don’t…” He sniffled a bit, then laughed somberly, “Please tell me you’re there to hear this, you f****n’ prick. I’ll be waiting…”

            Several seconds passed with Darcy merely continuing to sit where he did without moving. Then, without thinking, he jumped to his feet, practically leaping over the back of the couch and making a mad dash to the door. He tore it open, not bothering to close it behind himself as he took off in a mad sprint down the hall, barefoot and wearing only loose-fitting slacks and a white button-up shirt that was only half done up. After throwing himself into the stairwell, he nearly flew down the stairs, thankful that he hadn’t bothered to put socks on, because if he had he knew he would have slipped and injured himself given how fast he was going. He stopped at the landing between the first and second floor, staring down, when he saw Ansel leaning on the railing with a grocery bag tied loosely around his left wrist. The younger man raised his head to look at him when he stopped, his face pale and clammy and the rings around his eyes as dark as night. They stared at each other in silence, Ansel’s ragged breaths the only sound either of them made, for what must have been twenty seconds or more.

            “Well?” Ansel finally spoke. “Are you gonna stare at me all night, or are you gonna help me up?”

            Darcy hurried down the steps and wrapped Ansel’s right arm, formerly on the railing, around his shoulders, placing his own left arm around his friend’s waist to help support him. “Let’s take the elevator.” He managed to say despite his mixed emotions.

            “That’s unlike you,” Ansel joked.

            “Yeah, well, you’re dying, so I’ll make an exception.”

            With a shaky hand, Darcy pressed the button to call the elevator. While they waited, Ansel leaned into him.

            “My head hurts,” the younger man griped casually with a small smirk.

            “Stay with me,” Darcy begged, barely hiding his emotion.

            “Don’t worry, Peanut, I don’t plan on goin’ anywhere just yet…”

            The elevator doors opened, and Darcy practically had to drag Ansel in. He pushed a button for their floor, and then the doors closed. When the elevator started to move, he glanced down at Ansel; the man had his eyes closed, so he shook him gently. “Hey, come on.” He spoke nervously. Trying to find something to keep him talking, he asked, “What’s in the bag?”

            “You’ll see…” Ansel remarked in a low breath, keeping his eyes closed as his head lay against Darcy’s shoulder.

            With a ding, the doors opened, and Darcy half-carried Ansel back to their apartment. Once inside, he closed the door with his foot before walking Ansel over to the kitchen table, sitting him down on one of the chairs. The younger man forced himself to stay sitting upright as he lift his left arm, sitting the grocery bag down on the table. Darcy stood beside him as he pulled the bag off of his wrist, pushing it a bit further onto the table.

            “There.” He said.

            Reluctantly, Darcy stepped closer to the center of the table, standing along the longer side to Ansel’s left, and grabbed the bag. When he pulled it open, he was surprised to see a box of jelly-filled donuts. “What…?” He trailed off, unsure of how to react.

            “Happy Hanukkah.” Ansel announced. “I’ve been planning tonight for a long time, but I didn’t expect to be looking my death in the face, so this was all I was able to do. These are close enough, right?”

            His eyes beginning to burn, Darcy looked at Ansel. “You… You checked yourself out of the hospital tonight… and bought jelly donuts… to spend Hanukkah with me?” He struggled to ask without bursting into tears, though he realized that the situation would have been slightly comical if Ansel weren’t deathly ill.

            “Oh, please don’t tell me you’re not Jewish.” The younger man fretted.

            “No, I�"I am Jewish. It’s not that, it’s just…” Darcy couldn’t figure out what he was actually trying to say, so instead of speaking, he put the box of donuts down and pulled Ansel into an embrace that the weak younger man did his best to reciprocate. “Oh, Ansel…” He wept, “You should’ve stayed in the hospital…”

            “Like I said, I’m not gonna let myself die in that shithole,” Ansel argued. “I’d rather die in our shithole. Let’s sit on the couch.”

            Darcy took a moment to regain his composure before helping Ansel onto his feet and walking him over to the couch. After sitting him down, he sat down beside him, to his right, and they sat there for a moment in silence. It got kind of awkward, so Darcy grabbed the remote off of the arm of the couch and turned on the television. He took a look through the guide until he found a live fireplace channel, switching to that, which earned an amused snort from Ansel.

            “A yule log burning?” He asked. “That’s so Christian.”

            “You’re Christian,” Darcy reminded him, vaguely entertained.

            “Oh, yeah…” His playing dumb caused them both to share a soft but genuine laugh. Then, they were quiet again until Ansel suddenly disclosed, “You know what? I’ve been thinking, and… I think I kinda like the name ‘Poppet’.”

            Darcy hummed in delight, but his brows furrowed and his lips began to quiver. After a few more seconds of silence, he jumped when Ansel fell over, his head landing softly against his lap. “A�"Ansel?”

            “I’m not dead,” the insomniac replied. “I’m just… really tired.”

            Though he felt like he was on the border of hysteria, the doctor began gently petting Ansel’s head. “Well, come on now, don’t sleep just yet,” he struggled to insist calmly, “it’s hardly even six.”

            “Wow,” Ansel laughed quietly, “I guess I’m the lame one now…”

            Darcy didn’t realize he was crying until the tears dripped down off of his face, landing in Ansel’s hair. “Isn’t the fireplace nice?” He inquired, his voice growing increasingly unstable.

            “Sure…”

            Neither of them said anything.

            “Ansel?”

            “Yep…” He sounded like he was half-asleep.

            “I… I love you.”

            “Ditto…”

            “Ansel…”

            “Fine, fine… I love you too…”

            Darcy breathed heavily and quietly for a few beats.

            “Happy Hanukkah, Peanut…”

            “Merry Christmas, Poppet…”

            With that, Ansel finally let himself fall asleep. Darcy wept.

---

 

            There was a knock on his office’s door, but he paid it no mind. He had dumped the contents of his box of files onto his desk, and he was using the box to carry anything he wanted to take out of the office. This included the picture of his father, as well as some other things. Soon enough, the person on the other side of the door finally tried to open it, and was successful since it was unlocked.

            “Dr. Adair,” it was Dr. Park, “I heard you were resigning.”

            Darcy hardly even stopped moving. “Yeah.” He replied.

            “Because of Ansel?”

            “Yeah.”

            The woman let out a low sigh. “You did the best you could.” She told him. “You know that, right?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Are you just going to say ‘yeah’ to everything I ask?”

            “Probably,” he answered as he placed the box on his desk, “yeah.”

            Dr. Park stepped closer to him, and quietly she told, “If it amounts to anything, Dr. Adair, I think you were a great doctor. You saved my life.”

            “Five people are dead because of me, Dr. Park.” Darcy responded, not even looking at her.

            “I don’t blame you for any of it. I don’t think anyone does.”

            Darcy said nothing. He slowly looked down at the pile of files on his desk, and he leisurely started to stack them neatly. When he was done, he told her, “You can have my patient files.”

            She looked at the folders, then back at him. “All of them?”

            “I only want one.” Then, he pulled from the pile the second folder made for Ansel. She watched him as he placed the folder gently into his box of personal effects, and then he headed for the door.

            “Dr. Adair,” she called after him, making him stop in the door. He didn’t turn to look at her, and she didn’t turn to look at him, but regardless she requested, “Take care of yourself, would you?”

            There was a long pause.

            “Goodbye, Dr. Park.”

            Dr. Park lowered her head. It really was a shame that he was leaving, since she really had liked him, but she knew that nothing she had to say would ever be enough to convince him to stay. He needed time to be alone, and she respected that, albeit reluctantly. So, with good intention, she spoke to him the last words he would hear from her lips: “Godspeed, Darcy.”