This is a chapter about midway through the story, where Oliver is dealing with the slow loss of his mother due to her breast cancer relapse. Oliver has been dealing with the stress with over dependance on alcohol and drugs. This scene is not finished, but its all i've got written down so far.
Oliver stared down at the white tile floor in shock. His arms were braced on his thighs and his left leg began shaking up and down.
He knew this would happen. He’d know it from the very beginning. But he just hadn’t been able to accept it. His mom, she’d been sick for six months now. And he knew that she would…
He snapped up to his feet, and took a step forward, looking around frantically. There was no way. She couldn’t possibly be dead. There was absolutely no fucking way she could be gone.
Oliver’s breath was coming in fast. He couldn’t stay here in this hospital room. He slapped his hands on his face, and huffed a sharp breath. Tears welled in his eyes, more from the pain than from his grief. He wanted nothing more than to be in his mother’s comforting arms and cry until the pain stopped.
But he would never hold her like that again. His chest tightened into a hard knot at the thought. The tears were free falling now. He had no idea where his father had gone. Matias was not the type of man to run away, but Oliver didn’t have it in him right now to wonder where he’d gone.
He went into the bathroom and placed his hands on the sink, staring at himself. The bags under his eyes were dark, heavyset, making his eyes look sunken into his face like a fresh corpse. His ebony curls were greasy at the top. He’d pulled them up into a messy bun to keep them out of his face, but a few strands here and there poked out at odd angles. Small flyaways tickled his temples and he blew at them in vain. His cheeks were red and blotchy, but his face was incredibly pale. He looked like shit. He felt like shit.
He gripped the sides of the sink harder and let out a deep groan muffled by the bathroom fan. He slashed some cold water on his face, and smacked his cheeks again. No, there was no way she was gone. No fucking way.
He took a deep breath, and pulled out his phone. The tears had stopped now. He’d shoved them aside, to concentrate on what he could do. Rafael’s name popped up on his phone with a message.
Just checking in to see how you’re doing. Do you need me to bring anything to the hospital?
Oliver clicked on the message and began typing.
Everything is shit. Of course I’m not doing okay. How could you even ask that?
He deleted the words, then tried again.
I don’t know where my dad went and they told me my mom is… they said she wouldn’t…
He erased the message a second time and then typed.
Where are you? I need to see you.
He sent the message, before heading back into the hospital room. He grabbed his backpack off one of the chairs automatically and slung it over a shoulder. Then he popped his earbuds in, picked his favorite heavy metal playlist, and turned the volume up loud. He walked out of the room, holding himself back from running, and made his way to the stairwell, then took them two at a time, not worried at all that he might fall and break his neck. Good. He thought. If anyone here deserved to die it was him.
The music was cut by an incoming call, and Oliver pressed one earbud to accept it. It was Rafael.
“What happened?!” He asked, concern heavy in his voice.
“Where are you?” Oliver asked. “I need a drink. Let’s go out.”
“It’s 2 pm Oli. And it’s a Tuesday!”
“ Whatever.” Oliver said. “I’ll go by myself.”
“Wait, wait!” Rafael sighed into the phone. “I’ll go with you. Where are you?I can pick you up.”
“The hospital.” Oliver said flatly, taking his time now with the stairs. If he fell while on the phone with Rafael, well, he’d never forgive himself for making him go through that kind of trauma.
“Oh.” Rafael breathed. “I see. I’m down the road. I can be there in ten minutes. Wait for me, okay?”
“Okay”
“I’ll be right there. Just… just don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
“Okay”
Oliver hung up the phone and the heavy metal began blasting in his ears again. He cringed, and turned the volume down to a more manageable level, then made his way down the last flight of steps.
He walked across the lobby and out the front door, then pulled out his phone to put on do not disturb, before deciding to turn his phone off all together. It’d be better to not hear from anyone at all. He didn’t think he could handle it. Besides, Raf knew where to find him.
Oliver leaned against a pillar and looked out at the passenger loading and unloading section of pavement a few feet in front of him. A little girl in a wheelchair was being pushed toward a beat up light gray minivan.
“Mommy, can we get ice cream?” she chipped energetically.
“Of course honey, whatever you want.” The mother smiled down at her child with a barely hidden sadness in her eyes.
Oliver looked away, his jaw clenched. The interaction sent his blood boiling again. He needed to get away from here. Now. He uncrossed his arms and pushed off the pillar. Then took long strides away from the hospital.
There was a bar a few blocks away that Oliver knew would be deserted at this hour. He could finally get some peace and quiet. No families, no sick people. Just some much needed escape in the welcoming form of hard liquor.
Five minutes later, he walked into the dimly lit bar and slid into one of the seats. The counter was sticky, but Oliver didn’t care. He braced his forearms against the wood, and ordered a whiskey sour, with an extra shot on the side. If the bartender recognized him, he didn’t let on. He poured Oliver the shot and Oliver downed it immediately.
“Whoa there. Not doing so hot today, I take it? What’s the matter? Some girl break your heart?” He quipped, as he rubbed a lemon peel around the edge of the whiskey sour. Oliver grunted.
“Hey, look man. You don’t gotta talk if you don’t want to.” He slid the cocktail over the counter.
“Thanks” Oliver mumbled, and wrapped both hands around the glass.
The bartender turned around and started wiping off water stains from the glasses with a clean rag.
Fill here with description and internal.
30 minutes later
The phone rang, and the bartender picked it up.
“Crown pub, what can I do for ya?” he said, then waited for an answer.
“Yeah, it’s pretty dead in here but we do have one customer… Yeah… Yeah.” He turned and glanced at Oliver.
“Yeah, that’s him alright. Okay, no problem. You’re welcome.” He hung up the phone and went back to restocking the bar.
Oliver wanted to ask what in the hell that phone call was about, but he felt he didn’t have the strength to pick his head up off the counter. He’d drunk three shots and was on his second cocktail before the bartender had cut him off. He knew he was a lightweight, but to have the bartender cut him off so quickly. It was so embarrassing.
His head pounded along to the low playing country music coming from the speakers, and he felt like everything was spinning. Flashes came to him of white walls, and a heart monitor steadily beeping. His mother’s labored breathing and her frail hand in his.
He pushed the thought aside, and felt like he was going to be sick. Instead, he forced himself up and took another sip of his second whiskey sour. It tasted god-awful. All alcohol did. But he kept drinking it.
He knew he needed to stop drinking. It wasn’t doing him any good. But he also knew that he wouldn’t stop. He wasn’t strong like that. Oliver was a pathetic loser and a waste of space who deserved to wallow in his misery in this grimy, deserted bar at 3 in the afternoon. He was failing all his classes, ignoring all his friends. And he’d even left his father all alone at the hospital to come and drink.
He snapped his head up, and the world melded into a blur of lights and colors. His father! Oliver had turned his phone off, and he hadn’t told his father where he’d gone. He awkwardly fumbled behind him and reached into his back pocket. After a few painful moments, he managed to pull out his phone. Oliver placed it down on the sticky counter. He then pressed hard on the side buttons, waiting for what felt like an eternity for the white apple logo to pop up.
“There you are! Oh my god, Oliver!’ Rafael’s voice rang through the mostly quiet bar, and his quick steps seemed to echo off the walls as he half ran over to Oliver.
“Why didn’t you wait at the hospital? I tried calling you but my calls wouldn't-” He stopped short, staring down at Oliver’s phone. It wouldn’t stop buzzing as message after message finally came through.
“Did you turn your phone off?”
“Yeeeeeeeup” Oliver replied, smiling sheepishly.
“Oliver!”
“I know, I know. I’m the worst.” Oliver held his hands up in defense, then placed them out in front of him and said. “I’m always fucking up. I’m basically a criminal. You might as well arrest me.” Rafael shook his head in surprise.
“No, Oliver. What? You’re not the worst. And you’re not a criminal!” he looked over at the bartender and down at the glasses next to Oliver.
“How much have you had to drink?”
Oliver held up three fingers, stared at his hands confused, then added another finger to make four.
“Three shots and that’s his second cocktail” The bartender said.
“Oliver!” Rafael said. “It’s been 30 minutes! Ay, Oli,” He rubbed at his temples. “What am I going to do with you? Come on, I'm taking you home.”
He reached over, pulled one of Oliver’s arms over his shoulder, and tried to lift him up off the chair.
“I don’t wanna go home! I don’t wanna!” Oliver whined, shoving out his bottom lip. He flopped back into the chair, and roughly caressed Rafael’s cheek.
“You’re so pretty.” He said. Rafael’s mouth folded into a thin line.
“I imagine you haven’t paid yet,” he turned to the bartender. How much is it?”
“41 dollars,” The bartender replied.
Rafael laid down three 20 dollar bills, and said. “Thank you for watching over him. I’ll take it from here.”
“No problem” the bartender said, and scooped up the money before he walked over to the register. Oliver had been feeling extremely warm since Rafael walked into the bar, despite the cloudiness in his head, and all he wanted to do was stay here with Rafael and pretend he was a normal college student for once. As if normal college students got wasted on a Tuesday afternoon in a run down bar.
“Heeeyyyy,” Oliver said. “Why’d you pay? You’re not gonna drink with me?”
“No. I’m not” Rafael said back. Oliver pouted again.
“Well, then i’m not going” Oliver crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back on his barstool, almost losing his balance. Rafael caught him around the waist.
“Woooah, Raf are you trying to make me fall for you? Wink wink”
Rafael closed his eyes and sighed.
“Did you just say ‘wink wink’ out loud? Actually, you know what? I will drink with you.”
“Yaaaayyy” Oliver pumped his fists enthusiastically.
“Yes, yay. But this place is lame.” He said, ignoring the bartender’s pointed look. “Let’s go back to my house and drink there. Maybe we can watch a movie? How’s that sound?”
Oliver pondered this new idea, then asked.
“Like Netflix and chill? Ooohh Raf that’s not very appropriate.” He giggled and shoved Rafael’s shoulder, then asked “Maybe we can cuddle?”
Rafael wrapped his arm around Oliver’s waist and helped him off the chair.
“Yeah, maybe we can cuddle. Just, come on. Let’s go.”
He helped Oliver out the door, and into his car parked out front of the bar.