Half an hour later, I walked into the hospital to visit Ollie, where I found him in bed, staring out the window.
“Hey,” I said.
“It’s weird, but I’ve never noticed that building before,” he said, pointing at a silver skyscraper. “It’s so pointy. Like it’s stabbing the sky. Fuck. Imagine sky diving and landing on that. It would fucking impale you.”
He turned to me for the first time. His mouth barely moved. Ollie didn’t even look like the boy I’d known since he was a baby. His remote eyes had lost their youthful glow.
“I bought you a copy of Mojo.” I set the music magazine down on the side table. “And some chocolates.”
Awkward silence followed. I shifted my weight a few times, and taking a deep breath, I asked, “What’s the news?”
“Not great. I’ll probably never walk again.”
“That’s bullshit. You get yourself the best doctor, and before you know it, you’ll be up and about.”
“Hm. At least I’ve got my arms.” He smiled sadly.
“And those very capable fingers. You’re an amazing guitarist.”
“Little good that’s going to do me now.” He looked away again.
“It’s my fault.” I exhaled. “I should have…”
“No.” He turned sharply. “I fucked up. All that bravado crap.”
“I should’ve known better. I mean, fuck, I went in, too, you know. Like an idiot.”
“Don’t beat up on yourself, man.” He paused. “Hell. You fucking saved me.”
I caught a glimpse of Les Miserables by Victor Hugo on his table. “You’re reading that?”
His mouth twitched at my surprised tone. “Grandad is. He should be here soon. I protested at first, but it’s grown on me. It’s an interesting story. I hated the musical.”
I laughed for the first time that day.
“I was dragged along to that musical as a kid. I haven’t read it, though. Is Grant reading it?”
“No. Mom’s dad, Julian. He’s the brains in the family. Along with Mom.” He smiled faintly.
“He brought in a whole lot of books. But when I told him I could barely think, let alone read, he started reading it to me. And before I knew it, I was actually hooked. It’s a great story. I don’t know why the fuck they had to sing through it.”
I laughed. We shared similar musical tastes.
“Audiobooks are great. I enjoyed Keith Richards’s biography, read by Johnny Depp. I’ll drop it by. It’s seriously cool.”
He nodded slowly then returned to staring out the window. “Thanks for coming. I’m just tired. Mom will be here soon, fussing, and Dad too. I just wish everyone would leave me alone.”
“I guess they’re all… we’re all wanting to support you.”
“I don’t want that. I just want to fucking die.”
“Look, Ollie. Give it time. You’ve got—”
“No. Lachie. Please. Everyone’s saying the same things. Please go. Thanks for the magazine.”
He didn’t even look at me. I had a feeling he was crying.
With a heavy heart, I stood and touched his arm. “I’m here for you. Remember that.”