Page 11 of Prelude to Madness

He’d laugh and tell me he’d tidy it up tomorrow, but he rarely did. I picked up his favourite T-shirt and brought it to my nose. The faint smell of his cologne lingered, and I closed my stinging eyes, burying my face in his scent. My darling Rick.

I sank to my knees, still holding the T-shirt tightly, and sobbed. My chest ached, as did my heart. I didn’t know how I’d live without him. Hopefully, I wouldn’t have to.

“Pull yourself together. Get the place tidy for when he comes home. Positive thoughts.” I told myself.

I could almost hear Rick’s voice encouraging me to get off my arse and get the place sorted. Guess I should listen to him.

Clothes bundled in my arms, I walked into our bedroom, where the bed was still unmade. Rick’s clothes lay piled on a chair in the corner of the room. He really was an untidy bastard. I checked the time. Shit, I’d been away from the hospital for two hours, and I’d hardly got started.

My heart beating in my throat, I searched for my phone and finally found it on the hall table. What if Mum had called and I’d not heard it? I needn’t have worried. Not one missed call, not even a text, and as much as I wanted to rush back to his side, getting the apartment straight was something I had to do.

I folded his clothes, straightening them with care and attention, then put them away in the cupboards and drawers. I’d need to educate him when he came home, make sure he kept the fucking place tidy. I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. He had to come home. I needed him.

“Jesus, Rick. I can’t do this without you. You have to come home to me.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and fingered the T-shirt I’d placed on my pillow. I fucking loved him more than life itself. I couldn’t believe I could lose him because of someone else’s fucking stupidity.

His nightstand was typical of him. Rick and his mess. He’d left everything out: glasses, watches, the bracelet I’d bought him for Christmas. Everything needed tidying.

I pulled open the drawer, but something was sticking, and I couldn’t open it fully. I jiggled it until finally it came free. Wads of screwed-up paper fell to the floor. What the hell?

I was used to this. Being a composer, he’d leave reams of sheet music everywhere, but this was different. These were written words, a story.

I flicked through them and tried to put them in order, but I had no idea what went where.

The guy’s name was Eric. He was a struggling composer, playing the piano in the local bars for extra cash to cover his bills. I read each page, fascinated by the story. A friend called Hugo and a sweet cat, Shadow, that he loved. Rick had always wanted one, and the more I read, the more the similarities to his earlier life struck me.

The drugs, the parties, even the night we met. Except in his story, we didn’t. Strangely, this bothered me more than the drug-taking, more than the men he talked about who hit on him each night he played in the bar.

Was that how he’d seen me? Someone who preyed on him when he was most vulnerable, but I knew that wasn’t right. If anything, he’d chased me, not the other way around.

I sat on the floor, Rick’s work spread around me, his handwritten scrawl so familiar yet the words so not like him. I leant against the bed, exhausted. How long had it been since I’d slept? Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was Rick’s face on the day of the accident.

I was so damn tired.

I checked my phone again. Still no word from the hospital. I should go back, though, to relieve Mum. It wasn’t fair for me to leave her there alone.

“Mum,” I said when she answered. “I’m sorry I’ve been longer than I said. I’ll shower and be right back.”

“Take your time, Dex. There’s been no change. I don’t think another hour or so will make much difference.”

I hated that she was right. Hated this could be the end of our marriage. I hated the doctors who were clueless. Today, I hated the world.

“Yeah, see you soon.”

I rubbed my eyes and squeezed them shut, ignoring the images that assaulted my brain.

Five fucking minutes was all I wanted, just five minutes.

I woke up with a start to a dark room. What the hell time was it?

I scrambled around, feeling for my phone. Instead, my fingers touched a small wooden box wedged under the nightstand. I managed to find the light switch and turned on the lamp.

I eased it open. What was inside? If only I hadn’t.

Small bags, each with a handful of pills inside, filled the box. I had no idea what they were but knew exactly why they were there.

Fucking Rick. He swore to me he was clean, but I’d had my doubts. I’d refused to see what was right in front of my eyes. Rick was using again.