C26 Love Or...

Sierra remained seated at the kitchen table, staring at the space between her hands.

Across from her, Sam had gone quiet. She seemed to be waiting for Sierra to say something else, but Sierra wasn't sure where to begin.

“He has epilepsy,” Sierra repeated, almost to herself.

Sam nodded slowly. “That's what the doctor said?”

“Yeah.”

Sierra leaned back in her chair, letting out a breath.

“I keep thinking about it. About how long he's had it, how he's been dealing with it, and how I didn't know anything.”

“You weren't exactly in his life anymore, Sierra.”

“I know.” She rubbed her forehead. “I know that. But we were close once, Sam. Or at least, I thought we were.”

Sam didn't interrupt.

“When he rejected me, I spent so much time trying to figure out what I'd done wrong. I wondered whether I'd misunderstood him or whether I'd made everything bigger in my head than it really was.” She paused. “Now I'm wondering if this was the reason.”

“It could have been.”

Sierra looked at her.

“But I don't know,” Sam added. “I only recently found out he had some kind of neurological condition. I didn't know what it was, and I don't know what was going through his mind when he rejected you.”

Sierra lowered her eyes.

“Would it have been so difficult for him to tell me?”

“I can't answer that for him.”

“I'm not saying he had to tell me everything about his life.” Sierra shook her head. “I just wish he'd trusted me enough to explain why he suddenly decided we couldn't work.”

Sam reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

“I understand.”

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Sierra was grateful that Sam didn't rush to comfort her with promises that everything would make sense eventually. She wasn't sure she wanted reassurance. What she wanted was an explanation, something that could make the past fit together in a way it hadn't before.

But Alex wasn't there to give her one.

And she couldn't keep asking questions that neither she nor Sam could answer.

After a moment, Sierra pulled her hand away gently and stood.

“I should get back to work.”

Sam glanced at the clock.

“You still have time to eat something.”

“I'll get something later.”

“Sierra.”

“I'm fine. I just need to think.”

Sam watched her pick up her bag.

“Don't spend the whole day doing that.”

Sierra managed a small smile. “I'll try.”

She left before Sam could say anything else.

---

By the time Sierra returned to the hospital, she had convinced herself to concentrate on work.

It lasted until she reached her department.

A colleague stopped her to ask about a file, and Sierra spent the next several minutes searching for it. When she finally found it, she handed it over and returned to her desk, only to realize she'd left her pen in the records room.

She sat back in her chair.

“Brilliant,” she muttered.

“You talking to yourself now?”

Emily appeared beside her desk with a cup of coffee.

“I'm having a conversation with my patience. It's not going well.”

Emily laughed and placed the cup on the desk.

“What's wrong with you today?”

“Nothing.”

Emily gave her a look.

“Right. And I'm the hospital administrator.”

Sierra smiled faintly. “You'd be a terrible administrator.”

“Probably. I'd spend the entire day telling people what they're doing wrong.”

“You already do that.”

“Exactly. I'm qualified.”

Sierra laughed, and for a moment, the weight she'd been carrying eased.

Emily pulled a chair closer.

“Seriously, though. Are you okay?”

Sierra hesitated.

She wanted to tell Emily what had happened. Emily was her best friend, and there were very few things she couldn't discuss with her. But explaining everything would mean going back through the past, admitting how much Alex's rejection had hurt, and then explaining why learning about his condition had unsettled her so badly.

She wasn't ready for that conversation.

“I'm just distracted,” she said.

“By what?”

“Things.”

Emily waited.

Sierra sighed. “You're very persistent.”

“I prefer thorough.”

“Of course you do.”

Emily studied her for another moment, then decided not to press.

“Fine. But whatever it is, don't let it ruin your whole day. You've got enough work to do without adding unnecessary suffering.”

“That's almost inspirational.”

“I have my moments.”

“You should write them down.”

“I would, but then who would keep you entertained?”

Sierra smiled.

Emily stood and picked up her coffee.

“I'm going back to work. Try not to lose anything else.”

“No promises.”

“And drink some water.”

“Yes, Mum.”

Emily walked away, shaking her head.

Sierra watched her go before turning back to her desk.

She appreciated the distraction. She needed it.

But when the room grew quiet again, her thoughts returned to the same question.

What did she actually feel for Alex?

---

Peter arrived at Alex's hospital room later that afternoon.

He found Alex sitting up, dressed and looking impatient.

Peter stopped at the doorway.

“Well, look at you. Almost like a functioning member of society.”

Alex glanced at him. “You could try saying hello.”

“Hello. You look terrible.”

“That's better.”

Peter walked in, picked up the bag containing Alex's belongings, and inspected it.

“Is this everything?”

“Unless you plan to steal the hospital furniture, yes.”

“I was considering it. The chairs look expensive.”

“They're uncomfortable.”

“Even better. We could sell them as modern art.”

Alex shook his head, but a faint smile appeared on his face.

Peter had missed that. The last time he'd seen Alex, the humour had been there, but it had felt like something Alex was forcing himself to maintain.

Today, he seemed closer to himself.

Not entirely, but enough.

“The doctor said you're cleared to go?” Peter asked.

“Yeah. They want me to take it easy for a while.”

“Can you manage that?”

“I can manage a lot of things.”

“Taking it easy isn't one of them.”

Alex stood and reached for his bag.

“Are we leaving or are you planning to interview me?”

“Depends. Do I get paid?”

“No.”

“Then let's go.”

They left the hospital together.

The drive started with a discussion about Peter's work and a complaint about a client who had apparently decided that deadlines were optional.

Alex listened, occasionally offering a comment.

Peter glanced at him as they waited at a traffic light.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

“Anything else?”

“Alex.”

He sighed. “I'm fine. I just need to get home.”

Peter nodded, turning his attention back to the road.

“All right.”

Alex looked at him, perhaps expecting another question.

It didn't come.

After a few minutes, Alex spoke again.

“I don't like the way people look at me after something like this happens.”

Peter kept his eyes on the road. “What way?”

“Like they're waiting for me to fall apart.”

“They're worried about you.”

“I know.”

“Then what's the problem?”

Alex looked out the window.

“I don't want every conversation to become about my health. I don't want people treating me as if I can't do anything for myself.”

Peter was quiet for a moment.

“Then tell them that.”

“It's not always that simple.”

“No, it isn't.” Peter glanced at him. “But you can't expect people not to worry when you give them reasons to.”

Alex didn't respond.

Peter continued driving.

“You don't have to like being worried about. But you can't spend your whole life making sure nobody gets close enough to worry.”

Alex's expression tightened slightly.

“Is that what you think I'm doing?”

“I think you've got a habit of deciding what other people can handle without giving them a choice.”

The traffic light changed. Peter drove on.

Alex said nothing for the rest of the journey.

Peter didn't push him.

They had known each other long enough to recognize when a conversation had reached its limit.