The Apology

There was no way around it. Roger was crazy.

But then again, I'm not the most stable person either. Roger could have done any number of things that night. He could have called an ambulance or hauled me away in his car and taken me to the hospital to have my stomach pumped. He could have called the police. He could have walked out and left me. Or worse then any of those, he could have stayed that night watching over me, and then never talked to me ever again. He did none of those things.

He called his cousin, who's in med school. Counted the sleeping tablets left in the bottle and saw that there were quite a lot in there. So he decided that whatever was happening, while not good, could be handled. I marvel at Roger's actions. I think if I had been in his position, whether I determined it was accidental or not, I still would have gone with the hospital route.

That next morning after our talk about my actions, Roger took a nap. He had stayed up all night with me and called into the office to say he wasn't going to make it in shortly before I woke up. He slept until the early afternoon. While he was sleeping I puttered around my apartment. Amazingly I was still tired, but did not want to sleep anymore. I called Leah, my only full-time employee, to check on the store. Leah started as temporary summer help, but stayed on when her fall courses started. She gets the brunt of my flakiness being the only one I can trust to handle things if I'm not able to make it in, which although rare, does happen on occasion. She loves books almost as much as I do, is great picking out the perfect selection for customers who come in with the vaguest notion of what they're looking for, and she puts up with me calling her Summer Help.

I fed George and said hello to Stanley. I tried working on the accounting for the store again, but still couldn't concentrate. I stood in front of my book shelves trying to decide between a comfortable old favorite or an exciting new one. I ended up sitting back down empty handed.

I curled up on my favorite piece of furniture I own. Situated next to the window was my giant chair. It is the width of a chair and a half, slightly longer in the seat then a normal chair, but not quite as long a chaise. It is upholstered in a large floral print that manages to look modern instead of grandma. And I love it more then anyone should love a chair.

I felt like a wretch. My best friend was doing the only thing that he could think of to possibly save my life and what did I do? It doesn't matter that the situation wasn't as dire as it could have been, it doesn't matter that he is completely delusional. The fact of the matter was I laughed in his face. And he stayed anyway.

Roger woke up shortly after I finished lunch. I was sitting at my kitchen table and got up to get his coffee way too fast to be casual. It seemed painfully obvious to me that I was acting awkward. Hopefully Roger wouldn't notice.

"Sam, relax. I can get my own coffee." Roger was looking at me with one eyebrow raised. So, maybe it was obvious to Roger as well. "How are you feeling?" He was pouring his coffee, looking over his shoulder, his eyes showing worry, not pity. If I had seen pity in his eyes, I think I would have shut down. Everything that I had thought about while Roger was sleeping would have been gone in an instant.

Instead I took a steadying breath, "I'm sorry. Roger, I don't even know how…"

Roger held up his hand to stop me, "Don't. Sam, don't. You would have done the same for me."

"I'm not talking about that. I laughed at you. I'm sorry I laughed at you."

"Oh. That."

"I'm not sure what to think about…that. I thought about it all morning and I still don't know. Roger. Roger, look at me. Please. " He was facing the cabinets; one hand remained on the coffee pot. I waited.

Finally he turned and looked at me. "Nothing is…nothing is going to change…anything." He seemed to sag into the chair.

"That's a relief to hear. I thought that we were done. To tell the truth, I didn't know I was going to do that last night." He kind of half smiled at me. "I wasn't exactly thinking straight."

" Yeah, well. I am sorry about that too. But Roger, do you really think…I mean" I just needed to get it out. Why was it so hard? "You do know you didn't transform into anything last night, right?"

Confusion covered his face. "Of course I did." He stopped, thinking for a moment. "You were too messed up last night. You must have blocked it or are remembering wrong or something."

"No, Roger, I was really messed up last night, but I remember most of what happened, and you didn't grow into anything."

"You're just trying to be nice, being nice to the freak."

"Oh my g-…no, seriously, nothing happened!" I caught myself yelling and was surprised to find I was halfway out of my seat. I sat back down regrouping. He just wasn't listening to me at all. I would have to try to do this in a different way. How exactly do you reason with a crazy person?