Chapter 35

MILA

I showup to Ward's dorm and my eyes are full of tears.

That entire thing with Mac was awful.

There are no words for Mac. How could there be? Whether his relationship with his father was good or bad, the guy was still his father. And he's… gone. Forever.

Of course, add to that being in the same room as Jax.

And there I was, the stupid fool who kept looking at him, waiting for him to look at me. Why? So I could yell at him? So I could prove to myself that everything going on was totally his fault?

Then I followed him into the bathroom… to talk…

The appearance of that alone in front of everyone… cringe.

I couldn't believe it when Jax did the right thing.

He moved me out of the way and walked away.

He listened to me.

He respected my request…

I take a deep breath and open Ward's door.

I just need a hug. A big hug. I need Ward to wrap his arms around me, rest his chin on my head, and just hold me. For as long as I feel the need to be held.

"Ward?" I call out. "Are you here?"

I walk through the dorm.

It's a mess and stinks like old food and clothes.

Ward is not the cleanest guy in the world when it comes to this stuff.

And you think you're going to be the one to clean up after him? Think about that. You're going to clean his dorm? His bedroom? What if you end up living with him? Imagine that. In an apartment with him? Doing dishes. Washing his clothes. Folding them. Putting them away.

Oh, yeah, you'll have to do all of that and study for med school.

It'll be easy, won't it?

I find myself standing in the middle of the dorm.

Ward's bedroom door is open.

He's not here.

I start to turn and the door flies open.

"Oh, hey, Mila," says one of his friends - Bobby - so casually.

He's carrying Ward… almost literally.

Ward looks half dead, head slumped down, his feet dragging against the floor.

"I have to get him to the bathroom right now…"

I step to the side and Bobby basically drags Ward across the floor.

Bobby looks at me and smiles. "No worries. Just booze."

"Wouldn't think anything else," I say. "It's kind of early to be this drunk…?"

"We were watching a soccer game. You know, time zones and stuff…"

So that's an excuse? Because it's literally nighttime somewhere else in the world…?

I swallow hard, nod, and keep my mouth shut.

"Okay, big guy," Bobby says. "Into the bathroom. You're going to have to get some of that out."

"Yeah," Ward groans. "Yeah… it's fucking crazy…"

I slowly walk toward the bathroom behind them.

Bobby looks back at me. "Oh, Mila, you don't need to see this…"

"Like I haven't already?" I ask.

Bobby frowns.

I'm starting to realize that Ward is the drunk of the group of his friends. The guy you know who will always go too far. The guy who will always end up passed out or puking or something crazy…

The guy who…

I cover my mouth as Bobby props Ward up on the floor.

Bobby opens the toilet seat and places the right side of Ward's face on the toilet bowl.

"It's time, big guy," Bobby says. "Go for it…"

Ward babbles something that does not resemble words at all.

Then slowly… Ward brings his left hand to his mouth…

I'm not sure if you want the details of what happens next.

I'll just say that Ward knows when he reaches the level of alcohol poisoning… meaning a trip to the hospital is bound to happen… he knows how to… redeposit…

He sticks his damn finger into his mouth and down into his throat…

I have to turn my head.

I can't watch even though I can hear him throwing up.

"There you go, big guy," Bobby says. "That's the spirit. Now, hey, listen, I'm going to leave you here with your wife… okay?"

I cringe - physically cringe - at that fucking word.

Wife.

Bobby pats Ward's back and then looks at me.

I step back to let Bobby through the doorway.

"I think he'll be okay," Bobby whispers. "I would just keep a close eye on him. You're going to be a doctor, right? You can pretend he's a patient."

It takes a lot for me not to punch Bobby right in the mouth.

But this isn't his fault.

This is Ward's fault.

Ward finishes puking and collapses to the floor on his right side.

That's where I know to just leave him.

I also know I can't leave his dorm.

I have to be here. Sleep here.

I think about everyone else.

Grieving the death of Mac's father.

I wonder what Jax is up to. If he's drinking… or with someone…

I close my eyes and shake my head.

A second later I hear the most disgusting sound ever coming from Ward's stomach.

He reaches for the toilet and punches his left hand into the bowl - into his own vomit.

He somehow pulls himself up and hangs over the toilet, puking again.

Pissed at the world, I walk to Ward's bedroom. I gather up a blanket and a pillow and make what I know will be an uncomfortable bed on the floor just outside the bathroom.

That's where I sleep.

Or try to sleep.

Throughout the night I wake up randomly.

To check on Ward.

He's still breathing.

Sometimes my back hurts. Sometimes my neck hurts.

Most of the time I just stare at the ceiling feeling something deep inside my gut.

A reality. A truth.

Then I doze back off.

When it's finally morning and I give up on anything that resembles rest, I sit up and wait for Ward to move.

I look at him with disgust.

There's dried vomit on his left hand. He's got a mix of drool and puke on the floor.

When he does open his eyes, he looks… dead.

"Am I in the hospital?" Ward asks.

"Good morning to you too. You're in your bathroom. In your dorm. Do you remember anything from last night?"

"No."

"I just want you to know I came over because I needed you. I needed… never mind."

"Were you horny?" Ward asks with a grin.

"Wow," I say.

"What the hell? Are you pissed at me?"

"Ward, I need to leave now. I'm going to Mac's father's funeral. In all reality you should be there too. To be next to me. To show support."

Ward scoffs. "Look at me. I'm a mess right now."

"You're always a mess, Ward. I don't know how much more of this I can take or put up with."

"What the fuck?" Ward asks. "You're going to get like this? Right now? Seriously? We're in college, Mila. We're partying. Living life. What the fuck?"

I stand up. "You could have died last night, Ward. Do you know what it's like to watch someone stick their own finger down their own throat and vomit? And then I kept getting up all night to check on you."

"That was your choice, Mila. Nobody asked you to do that."

"Fuck you then," I say. "I'm leaving."

"Yeah. Going to a funeral. Uh-huh. Sure thing, Mila."

Ward pushes himself up.

He has more to say but he can't get it out.

He moves closer to the toilet and starts to get sick again.

So that's how I leave him.

Ward dangling over the toilet, making awful retching sounds.

This is just what I need.

To be all alone at Mac's father's funeral.