Page 100 of Don't Leave Me

I nodded, following her out of the apartment. “Let’s go,” I smiled.

We walked the few blocks to a café as we chatted nonstop about ourselves, sharing interests – what music and movies we loved, our favorite artists, my nonexistent knowledge of musicals and Broadway. We giggled as we sat inside the restaurant, snow starting to fall outside and both of us hitting it off swimmingly.

“Um, I’ll have a mimosa to start,” she told the server, then looked at me with a grin.

“I’ll have the same,” I looked up at the server and shut my menu.

Michael is not going to like this but…he won’t find out.

One mimosa turned into two. Two turned into three and now Jessica and I were buzzed and laughing hysterically at our table, the other customers around us smiling at us with side eyes.

“You’re so witty, Hana. I like you,” she said after catching her breath.

“Thank you. I like you,” I raised my eyebrows, tilting my head, observing her face.

Looking at her made me miss Jack.

“I should get going. I need to start writing that article on you; it’s due tonight!” I quickly stood up.

“Aw, alright,” she said with a frown. “Well, we should get together again soon.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” I nodded in agreement.

We paid the bill, said our goodbyes and I headed home.

* * *

As I opened the door to our apartment, I heard Michael’s voice inside and immediately wondered why he was home and regretting that I was obviously not sober. It grew silent when I shut the door behind me and then saw Michael on the phone in our room, pacing and looking despondent and agitated.

“Michael, what’s wrong?”

Michael put his hand to his beard and shook his head, glancing up at me with tears in his eyes. My heart dropped immediately – this had to be bad. Really bad.

“Where have you been, Hana? You left your phone here and no note?” he asked angrily, totally opposite from how he looked, putting his phone down.

I was already in tears. “I-I was at brunch with Jessica. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Emily. She left the hospital and tried to kill herself, Hana.”

I nearly passed out. I felt my knees grow weak, my heart simultaneously stopping and racing at the same time, my mouth wide open and tears streaming down my face.

“What? Where is she? Is she okay?” I raced towards him, angry and scared.

“She’s back in the hospital. She lost a lot of blood, but she’s okay,” he put his arms around me, and I felt myself sobbing into his chest.

How did this happen? Why did they let her go? How the FUCK did this happen?

“She never signed herself in,” Michael answered, as if reading my thoughts. “She just left and went back home and,” he stopped himself.

“God damnit,” I cried out. “We should have stayed. We should have signed her in ourselves,” I choked out, then looked up at him. “Where is she? I need to see her right now,” I said frantically.

Michael studied me. “Have you been drinking?”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now. Where is she, Michael?” I repeated, just as sternly as him.

His lips hardened but he answered me. “She’s at the Manhattan hospital,” he answered. “Come on, let’s go,” he grabbed his keys and I followed him out the door.

We took a cab to the hospital in silence – I was angry at myself for leaving Emily, I was angry at what she did, angry that Michael wasn’t saying or doing anything to help me feel better. Fifteen minutes later, I was practically running into the hospital with Michael quickly following. The nurse at the station guided me towards Emily’s room, noting that she resting and heavily medicated, but she was stable. I followed her into the room and there was Emily, peacefully sleeping with huge bandages on each wrist and an IV in her arm.

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