Tovah checked into Holiday Hands Hospital at 2:00 am on a Thursday. This was a normal occurrence as far as she knew. What she hadn’t known was how fatal it would be this time for both her and the couple people still remaining in her life. Isaac got the call at nearly 4:00 am and that’s when everything changed for good.

----
“Isaac,” his brother had spoken hesitantly when he picked up the phone, “I don’t want you to freak out or anything, but, uh, T’s in the hospital again.”

After that, the air was silent and deadly, quickly waking him from his drowsiness. “What? Why?” Isaac asked, trying not to let the panic show through in his voice. But the slight quiver was unmistakable to his older brother and caretaker.
Sighing despondently, his brother began to speak again, “I don’t know the specifics yet, they won’t tell me. But from what I can tell it was fatal this time. Isaac, you need to get down there now.”

“Are you coming?” Isaac asked, his level of anxiety raising with each passing second it took his brother to respond.
“I can’t. I’m working until ten. But I promise you, I’ll be there tomorrow.”

With that, Isaac haphazardly threw on his shoes and was out the door in less than 20 seconds. On the walk to the hospital, he tried not to be upset with her, knowing that this most likely hadn’t been an accident but that she probably hadn’t meant for it to be this bad. She told him she wouldn’t do it again, but she hadn’t promised it. These accidents were becoming more and more common. Like Isaac, Tovah had been through a lot, and he understood that. But what he couldn’t understand was why she continued to keep things so dangerous and sick from him. Why she refused to confide in him when he told her years ago that he wouldn't abandon her like the others did. There was a mutual trust and understanding between them from the start, but lately, he wasn’t sure if that could be saved. Not after this time.
----
Walking into the hospital he was all too familiar with, he was met with a nurse he saw often who gave him the same sympathetic look every time he showed up. He practically towered over the tiny-framed woman. The weather channel had said the day would be bright, but nothing about it felt good to Isaac. The cold New York streets were proof enough of that.

“She’s in room 102,” the nurse stated plainly in contradiction to her saddened face.

“Thanks,” Isaac muttered as he turned away and headed down the dimly lit hallway.

These white walls he saw far too often gave him chills. The same smells suffocatingly filled the air: sterile death and hopelessness. The occasional scent of blood and tears blending together. Typical. Empty prayers echoed and bounced off the walls. Isaac wondered how many of the people really meant what they were saying or knew who they were talking to. Rounding the last corner, Isaac took in a calming breath he knew wouldn’t help in order to keep up the facade of sanity. This was happening too much. This was affecting more than just Tovah. He lingered outside the doorway for a moment, his fingers grazing the cold wall. Finally walking into the room, he saw it completely empty, save for two chairs and the tragically boring hospital bed in the center of the room. When he went to look at Tovah lying in the hospital bed, he found that she was already staring right at him, her dark and knowing eyes piercing deeply into his soul. There was no twinkle in her eyes, no spark--just an empty, daunting look. It was taunting him.

“Isaac,” she spoke just above a hoarse whisper, already having her frequent words memorized before he showed up, “You didn’t have to come. You should be--it's past 4:00 am--”
Shaking his head, he cut off her regurgitated speech, ”Stop it. You know I had to come and you know damn well I wasn’t about to let you stay here by yourself again.”

She didn’t speak for a while and Isaac began to worry that he had upset her with his straightforward harshness. “Look,” he sighed, attempting to keep his voice low and even, “T, I just don’t understand why you keep doing this. The doctor says it could kill you this time. I don’t want you to die and I know you don’t want to.”

Still nothing. But Isaac could see her eyes turning red with tears held back and anger barely restrained. The tension was palpable, but they both fought it hard, desperately not wanting this conversation to end badly. It had ended badly too many times to count.

Walking over and leaning in close, he whispered, “You can talk about it, you know. Whatever it is, you can talk to me or Jay or the doctor.” This time, he knew Tovah could feel his worry just by the slight twitch of her left eye and the dimple that formed just above her lip. They knew each other so well that it scared him.

“I know, Isaac. I just didn’t want this to affect you if I could help it.” The sincerity in her voice reached Isaac in ways he didn’t know he could be reached. She was being reasonable. She was really trying to keep it together.

It was clear that she didn’t want to argue with him--she just wanted to make him to at least try to understand. She had become incredibly mature in the past couple of years--too mature. It worried Isaac in ways that he would never admit. The both of them were growing apart and it was inevitable and heartbreaking in the same beat.

“You and your brother are so much alike; always worrying about me,” she paused, a sad grimace appearing on her otherwise blank face, “But you should know that I really appreciate you both for it. You should also know that I hate what this does to you and I would do anything to make it all go away. But Isaac, it doesn’t work like that. You know that even better than I do.”

Her bluntness had never startled him because he could be just as blunt. “I don’t want you to die, Tovah. You and Jay are the only family I have left. I don’t care if it’s selfish, but I am not going to lose you too.” Isaac’s voice held a hard edge that Tovah had heard maybe twice in the eight years they had known each other. He was determined. He was serious this time.

“I don’t understand you sometimes, Isaac. Last week you told me that I could do whatever the hell I wanted because you were leaving anyway. Remember that?!” This time, Tovah’s voice was harsh and unapologetic. Upset.

Isaac thought about those words for an extensive amount of time before he looked down at the floor, knowing that everything she said was true in the rawest sense of the word. He suddenly felt small.

“Cut the prophetic bullshit,” he ground through his teeth, his anger causing him to think irrationally and utter words he didn't mean. “You-you couldn't have known what would happen.”

          Tovah could see the regret that instantly covered his face, poring irrevocably from his dilated pupils. She could see that something was boiling through him with no intention to stop--it was torturing him.

Tovah only nodded solemnly, not exactly knowing what to say next. “Well, I think that’s the best apology you’ve ever given me, Isaac”, she let out an incredulous laugh. It was a hopeless attempt to lighten the mood.

          It was then that Tovah noticed Isaac’s pure and unadulterated eyes blurring with tears, his eyebrows knit together as he tried and failed to hold it together in the same instant.

“S***--are you crying? Don't do that, this was supposed to be a happy visit, right?” Tovah was clearly worried now. She had never seen him cry before. This was all too new.

Tovah’s voice held something unfamiliar to Isaac--uncertainty. An uneven quiver that would have gone unnoticed to anyone else. “I'm not going to kill myself, okay? It was just a relapse. The doctor says it’s normal.” She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself of this, along with trying to make Isaac buy it. Her voice rose an octave with each word she spoke.

Isaac couldn't bring himself to move from where he stood by the window out of complete embarrassment and dread that things would only get worse. He wanted desperately to believe what she was saying.

“Okay,” he nodded, trying to keep his own voice stable. “Okay.”

“Are you okay, Isaac?” Any form of disdain from earlier was undetectable in Tovah’s voice. She was just worried about what would become of her best friend.

What she didn't know was that it was already too late. It was at that moment she realized that if she died, Isaac would too. Maybe not physically, but in every other way a person could die. He could actually see it click in her head. Isaac watched as her eyes widened just enough to go unnoticed--but he saw it. The calm demeanor was completely gone; the atmosphere instantly quickened in pace. The world stopped in time.

Isaac decided to take one of the seats beside the bed, easing himself into it with a forced vigor. “I'm fine. I'm not the one in the hospital bed, with all the IV’s, looking like an alien.” Isaac’s attempt at a joke wasn't missed by Tovah as he swore he saw her lips turn upwards for a just a split second. The tables had turned.

“Thank you for coming, Isaac,” Tovah said suddenly, albeit a bit obligatory, her gaze never leaving Isaac’s hazy-sad one.
“What are you doing here, T?” Isaac flatlined, clearly not wanting to start small-talking.

“I don't want to fight with you, Isaac. Please,” she begged weakly. Her eyes were tired and wary, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
Isaac instantly shook his head, slightly frustrated with her jump to conclusions. “I don't either. I just want to know the truth.”

“You know, your brother called and told me you were okay, but I didn't believe it. I wanted to know it for myself.”

The tears were gone from Isaac’s eyes, but the streaks remained. Before Isaac could question what she said or respond in any way, the nurse walked into the room to set a new glass of water that wouldn't be drunk on the bedside table next to the hospital bed that soon wouldn't be occupied. They both seemed to freeze on that glass of water, as if they were waiting to see who would break the trance first. It was almost 6:00 am now.

Isaac stood and cleared his throat loudly, visibly uncomfortable with the way things had turned out. “I should probably get to work soon,” he spoke casually to the wall, and then turned to the window before he looked down at Tovah again, “Take care of yourself.” He knew she could see straight through his feigned pretense, but she said nothing about it.

Isaac began to walk out but thought better of it, “I’ll be back tomorrow, if you want me to be.” He never broke eye contact.

She could only nod, both stunned and pleased that the two of them had managed not to yell at each other for a whole 2 hours. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
With that, Isaac started towards the exit of the of the large, overwhelmingly white hospital. It was only then that he allowed his hands to shake violently and his breath to become short. He let it all out in that moment. Isaac couldn't make it to the street, instead falling down onto the nearest curb, trying to get himself to calm down. Fighting the urge to smoke, he bit his nails until they bled. Placing blame on Tovah was so much easier than placing blame on himself. With one last pathetic look towards the quickly-becoming-light sky, Isaac came to the realization that there was absolutely nothing he could do. He couldn't save people who didn’t want to be saved--people who didn't even know how to help themselves. He remembered the doctor telling him all too cooly and not too kindly that some patients can't be saved. It's that basic and that sad. He told himself Tovah would be okay, he forced himself to believe that because he had no other choice but to. He told himself that being away from each other was the best and most honest thing they could do for each other. Isaac pictured her saying it over and over again until it meant absolutely nothing and it was just empty words. He told himself not to look back. No matter how hard he tried to believe it, he knew deep down that caring was simply not enough and it could certainly never be compensation for irreconcilable pain. Tovah and Isaac would never be compatible no matter how hard they tried. They were just too different. It would be another 4 hours before Isaac’s brother was out of work, and as Isaac waited, he contemplated what Tovah told him at the end of their visit: I wanted to know it for myself. He thought about how she hadn't answered his question and how he had been upset by it. He thought about how his parents being gone hadn’t made him a better person after all. Making a solid and quintessential decision, Isaac stood and began walking towards the rehab center down the street from Central Park. The air worked through his lungs in a way he hadn't felt in years. Today would be the day he got his act together. It would be a day of reckoning and new beginnings. The hospital would have to wait.