Chapter 3
Darren
I was lounging around my house all day on Saturday, recovering from a hard week of work and a long Friday night of drinking and sloppy-drunk sexual acts. I was either in my recliner or on the couch relaxing with Bo, my golden retriever.
My house was small, but it was comfortable. It was a perfect fit for Bo and me. There was plenty of room for both of us, even though I was a tall guy, and he was a big dog. I’d made sure there was also a decent backyard for him to romp around in.
My plan was to wait for Wayne to give me a call whenever he was ready for me to come on over for dinner. However, as the afternoon turned into evening and the sun had finished setting, I began to wonder if Wayne had a change of heart and didn’t want me to come over after all. I’d never known him to blow someone off without a call or text, so I tried texting and calling him. He didn’t respond.
“Wonder what’s up,” I said to Bo. “Why isn’t he calling, bud?”
Bo’s expression remained the same.
I sighed. “Yeah, I don’t know either.”
I tried calling Wayne again, petting Bo as I did. After getting his voicemail again, I grew concerned.
“I’m probably over-thinking it,” I said. “But, for some reason, I feel like something’s off.”
Bo cocked his head and began to pant.
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “Let’s go over and make sure he’s okay.”
I assumed he wouldn’t mind seeing me arrive unannounced, considering he was expecting me anyway. He wasn’t expecting me to bring a canine companion with me, but Bailey had dogs growing up, so I figured he wouldn’t mind me bringing Bo along.
We hopped in the Focus and took off down the street toward Wayne’s house. I avoided turning on the radio for fear of what I might hear. It didn’t long to get to his road. It was unusually slow for a Saturday evening.
His truck was parked out front, and his grill was out in the driveway. It didn’t appear to be on, but he was certainly preparing to use it.
Bo and I both hopped out of the car and walked up to the front door. I knocked once. No answer.
I could hear a TV on inside; it sounded like a football game was playing. I didn’t hear any activity going on other than that, so I wondered if maybe he was in a sound sleep.
I knocked again, louder that time in case he was passed out. Bo and I waited for about a minute, but still, there was no answer. I pulled out my phone, considering making another call.
Bo started to whimper, making peculiar noises as he stared at the door.
“What’s up, pal?” I asked him. “What’s bothering you?”
Bo looked up at me, keeping his whimpering going. I couldn’t read him, and my concern only intensified the longer I waited.
I knocked again. “Wayne?” I called out. “Wayne, you home?”
Nothing. I wasn’t sure what proper protocol would be, but I felt compelled to push my boundaries. I grabbed his doorknob, slowly twisted it, and thankfully, the door was unlocked.
I hadn’t been to the Wright’s house in ages, but it still looked the same as back then. The house was about the size of the one I lived in, but there was music everywhere. There were posters and gold records on the walls, vinyl records and CDs stacked randomly throughout the house, and many musical instruments sitting in different corners of the living room.
I stepped into the house, and there he was, sprawled out on the living room floor, face down in the carpet.
“Wayne?”
Bo padded cautiously over to Wayne, sniffing him. I kneeled down, turning Wayne over on his back. His eyes were closed, his mouth was open, and I was having trouble finding a pulse.
“Wayne, wake up, man!” I yelled.
I kept searching for a pulse and was having no luck. At first, I convinced myself that he was passed out drunk and that I was just terrible at finding a pulse.
However, the longer I waited and tried to wake him, the more afraid I became.
I considered calling the police, but the closest hospital was only two miles from Wayne’s house, so I decided to take him there instead. I picked him up, throwing him over my shoulder, and Bo and I moved as fast as we could to the hospital.
I didn’t tell the doctors and nurses much. I said that I found him on the floor; not breathing, not responding, and I had no idea what to make of it. They rushed him to the ER to take care of him.
Since I wasn’t sure how long things would take, I first waited outside by the Focus with Bo. I planned to check on him, but I hated waiting around in hospitals.
“I hope he’s okay,” I said to Bo. “It’s a good thing we checked on him, huh?”
Bo lay down by my feet. I went through my phone and found Bailey’s phone number, thinking about calling to tell her what was going on. Yet, despite the gravity of the situation, I still couldn’t make myself do it.
Bailey and I had a complex relationship. We’d been friends for years when both of us lived in Rome. And we did everything together—went to high school, worked the same jobs, and went out and had fun all the time. We also both loved playing and writing music together. We both played guitar and piano. I played well. She played extraordinarily well.
The more we created music together, our friendship grew, and a physical attraction began to manifest itself. We fought it for months, never acknowledging it or succumbing to our thoughts. We each encouraged the other to try music professionally. But for years, neither of us took the recommendations seriously. Then one day, Bailey was ready to leave Georgia and move on to a place that could nurture and build her music career.
She started putting some of her original songs on the internet, and she began to have a small cult following who adored her music. She used that as the last bit of fuel to finally make the decision official.
Then, we finally succumbed. The idea of her leaving tore me apart, and I begged her to stay. She begged me to go with her. While the begging persisted, we started exploring our feelings and having sex regularly. It was incredible, and it made her leaving hurt worse.
After she left, she would only return to Rome for brief stints to see her dad. I never knew when she was actually in town, and I didn’t want to know. And so, I hadn’t seen her since she moved.
I started seeing her dad more often than she did. I never had a problem with being around Wayne, since I was always close to the Wright family. I only knew Bailey’s mom for a short time before she passed away, but I was extremely close to him and Bailey for years. In some ways, they started to feel like a second family.
I decided to go and check on Wayne, ordering Bo to stay by the car. I never kept him in the car while I was away, and I hated owners that did that to their pets. Bo was a good dog. He stayed when told and didn’t bother anyone.
I went toward Wayne’s room, and the doctor met me before I had a chance to go to him.
“Hi,” said the doctor. “I didn’t get your name. You brought in Wayne Wright, correct?”
“Yes. I’m Darren Holt,” I told the doctor. “I’m not family. I’m a friend.”
“Yes. I was told you’re the one who found him,” the doctor said. “Mr. Holt, I’m so terribly sorry to have to tell you this. I regret to inform you that Wayne has passed away.”
In my heart, I knew that was what was most likely, but it still hurt to hear it. I felt like a boulder had been thrown at my chest.
“We’re not sure of exactly when he passed, but we know it was many hours ago,” the doctor continued. “We believe it was a heart attack. There was nothing you could have done.”
Instantly, I felt lost. I didn’t know what to do.
I stayed in the parking lot of the hospital for over an hour, lying on the hood, letting Bo comfort me with his affection. I was reflecting on years’ past, while also procrastinating the inevitable.
I wondered if the hospital, or maybe even the police, might contact Bailey and let her know what had happened to Wayne. I’d heard that phrase “notify next of kin” enough to believe that it must’ve meant something. I didn’t believe it was my responsibility, and so I stayed away.
Instead of calling Bailey, I called Garrett. It rang many times before he finally answered. I hoped I wasn’t interrupting something important.
“What’s up?” Garrett answered.
“Can you talk for a bit?” I asked him.
“Sure, what’s going on?”
“I’m at the hospital, actually.”
“What?” he said alarmed. “You serious? You okay?”
“I’m okay, man,” I said. “You remember how I was supposed to meet up with Wayne Wright tonight for dinner?”
“Oh, yeah. I totally forgot about that.”
“I got over to his house,” I said. “And dude, it’s so messed up.”
“What?”
“He died. I found his body in the living room.”
“Get the fuck out of here!” said Garrett with a hint of sadness. “You’re kidding. We just saw him yesterday!”
“And, now he’s dead.”
“Holy shit,” he said. “That really sucks. I can’t believe that. How did he die?”
“They think it was a heart attack.”
“Wow, bummer,” Garrett said. “You all right, bro?”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “It’s a lot though.”
“You want to get together and chill?”
“Yeah, actually. I’d be really down for that.”
I slid off the hood. Bo and I hopped into the Focus and headed over to Garrett’s house.
When we arrived, I walked in without knocking. That’s how it was with us.
“The person I really feel bad for is Bailey,” I said to Garrett.
“Yeah, no kidding,” he said. “First, she loses her mom, now her dad. And she isn’t even 30 yet, is she?”
“No, not yet. She and I are both 29,” I told him.
“Yeah. That really sucks,” he said. “Did you call Bailey?”
“Nah, I figured the hospital or someone would notify her, you know?”
“Maybe, but don’t you think she’d rather hear it from someone close to her than from a doctor she doesn’t know?”
I chuckled. “I’m not close to her anymore.”
“Don’t pull any of that crap,” he said. “You should call her and tell her. What if they told her you’re the one that found her? Wouldn’t she get super pissed at you for not calling her or anything?”
“Goddamn it, you’re right. I would look like a major asshole.”
“Of course, I’m right,” he said. “Call her. It’s going to be awkward no matter what. Be a man, dude. You know it’s the right thing to do.”
I did agree with him on that. I still wasn’t looking forward to it.