"Hey," Ralph says with a big smile and pops his head in the door. I readjust myself and make sure the that the top collar of my hospital gown isn't bunching.
"Hey," I sing back to him. I'm having one of those moments where words aren't coming easy to me. It's dusk now, and through the window I can see pink streaks across the sky. It's blissful.
Ralph pulls up a chair to the side of my bed and sits down.
We're having a weird moment. We hardly know each other, and yet we just went through this crazy experience together. I give him a big smile, and he gives me a brighter one back.
I like Ralph. He's a good guy.
"Thanks for the flowers," I tell him. "They're beautiful."
We sit there for a moment in the awkwardness. It's just the two of us. Visiting hours are over, but I guess Ralph has pretty good connections with the hospital staff -- and so, he's here.
Eventually Ralph speaks, "So...I guess you're not going to stay for the rest of the summer?" he asks.
It's weird that we are stuttering through a conversation now. It seemed to flow so much easier before.
I guess a lot has changed.
"No," I tell him. "I was running away from something by coming here, and -- well, it's time for me to return to my real life."
Again, there is a moment of awkward silence. But not because he is sad that I'm leaving. The awkwardness lies in the vapidness of Ralph and his demeanor. I had no idea he was this flat of a personality.
I'm having a sober perspective on the depths of Ralph.
I smile and lean forwards to give him the perfunctory hug. Like or not, Ralph and his vapidness is the hero in this story; and while he no longer has an intoxicating affect on me -- he still is important.
In a Christmas card once a year type of way.
I start to feel guilty about where my train of thought is taking me as I sit here and analyze Ralph. Maybe he's just not as exciting unless he's approaching you from a Police boat, or saving you from a burning building?
Why is that?
As the conversation comes to a complete halt, Ralph repositions his chair and joins me for a moment as we watch the sun set through the window. The story is coming to an end.
It's funny how real life doesn't always play out how you want it to. How it festers in the unpredictable. How people don't always play the role you were hoping they would.
It would've been a nice story wouldn't it? At cocktail parties, we would gaze in each other's eyes as we recount how he saved me from a burning building and that's where and how we fell deeply and madly in love.
But there are no cocktail parties in Ralph's world. Maybe the odd case of beer on the back deck of someone's porch every now and then.
And there is no mad love. Not even a burning ember of affection.
Sigh.
I reach out my hand to grasp his hand and seal our friendship. There are things I want to say to Ralph, but he doesn't seem to need me to. He's perfectly happy with the complacency of his life. And I'm perfectly happy with the erratic frenetic nature of mine.
Which is not here.
And not with Ralph.
And so, as the sun dips further below the trees, I close my eyes and lean back in my bed. A moment later Ralph takes that as a cue to leave. And my mind drifts towards the next few days and what they will bring; a flight back across the continent to LA, frantic last minute writing and touch ups, and the delivery of the script.
I think I'll stay in a hotel when I get there... I can't stress about finding a new apartment just yet.
I'm not sure where my thoughts drifted into slumber, but they eventually did. And for the first time, in a very long time -- I slept. A deep, peaceful sleep that only comes with the resolution of a sober mind.
