“How is he, doctor?”

 

“Still the same. No worse, no better.”

 

“What do you suppose happened to him?”

 

“It’s hard to tell, exactly. His injuries are consistent with a number of scenarios; he could have been involved in a fight, or a fall,  from a horse, a building…”

 

“Or a bridge.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“He was found washed up on the river bank. He could have fallen from the bridge further upstream.”

 

“That’s possible I suppose.  He reeked of alcohol when he was brought in, so I guess he could have stumbled off in a stupor.”

 

“Or jumped.”

 

“Jumped?”

 

“On purpose.”

 

“On purpose? Why would anyone want to do such a thing?”

 

“I don’t know. There was just…”

 

“Just what?”

 

“I don’t know, there was just something in the way his friend looked at him that first time he came to visit him… Like he was kind of surprised but not surprised, if you know what I mean.”

 

“My dear Miss James, you have a very vivid imagination.  But, however he came to be injured is really none of our affair.”

 

“You’re right of course, I’m sorry, doctor.”

 

“No need to apologise my dear.”

 

“When do you think he might come round?  It’s been two days since he was brought in.”

 

“It’s hard to tell.  His injuries aren’t, in themselves, life threatening, although he took a very nasty crack on the head. I would have expected him to show some signs of recovery by now, although there are no guarantees.  Ah, here’s his friend now, would you let him in?”

 

“Of course, doctor… Evening Mr. Trevors.”

 

“Evening, M’am. May I…?”

 

“This way…”

 

“Evenin’,  Doc. May I come in?”

 

“Of course, Lom.”

 

“How is he?”

 

“No change.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Do you have any idea of what might have happened to him?”

 

“Not exactly, Doc…”

 

“Not exactly?  So you have a theory?”

 

“A theory?”

 

“My assistant and I were just speculating on how he came to sustain his injuries.  They could have been the result of a fight, or possibly some kind of fall.”

 

“Possibly.”

 

“He’d obviously been drinking…”

 

“Yes, he has spent a fair amount of time in the saloon lately.”

 

“I see.”

 

“When do you think he’ll come round, Doc?”

 

“I don’t know.  To be honest, I’m not even sure if his unconsciousness is due to his injuries…”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, Lom, call me an old fool if you wish, but I get a sense that… that maybe he doesn’t want to wake up. I can’t explain it, but…”

 

“I’d never call you a fool, Doc, old or otherwise.”

 

“Is there any reason why—“

 

“Doctor, look--“

 

“What is it, Miss James?”

 

“His eyes, they’re moving.”

 

“You’re right, my dear.  Young man, can you hear me?”

 

“Mmm?”

 

“Can you hear me?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“Open your eyes, son… That’s it…”

 

“Wh-what…?”

 

“Take it easy, son. You had a nasty bang on the head.  Just lie back and relax.”

 

“Who…? Where…?”

 

“I’m Doctor Perkins. You’re in my clinic.  Do you remember what happened?”

 

“Happened?”

 

“Were you in a fight? Did you have a fall?”

 

“Fall?

 

“You were rescued from the river. You’re very lucky to be alive, young man.”

 

“Lucky?”

 

“You could have drowned.”

 

“Doc…”

 

“Yes, Lom?”

 

“May I speak with him privately for a moment?”

 

“Very well, but keep it brief, he needs to rest.  Come, my dear, let us adjourn.”

 

“Yes, doctor.”

 

“Thank you…”

 

“Lom…”

 

“Don’t you ‘Lom’ me. Do you know how worried I’ve been?  What are you trying to do, get yourself killed...? Well..? Don’t just stare at the ceiling, answer me!”

 

“I’m tired…”

 

“So am I. Tired of watching you do this to yourself.”

 

“Do what?”

 

“You know what.  How many more times—”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

 

“How did you end up in the river?”

 

“I... I don’t know.”

 

“Don’t lie to me.”

 

“I was drunk…”

 

“That’s nothing new.”

 

“What does it matter to you? It’s not illegal to get drunk.”

 

“The doc thinks you were in a fight or something, but you weren’t, were you?”

 

“I don’t remember.”

 

“You remember very well.  There was no fight. If there had been I would have heard about it.”

 

“If you say so.”

 

“The Doc told me you were pulled out of the river.”

 

“Was I?”

 

“Look, I know how hard it’s been this past three months… but this is no way to carry on.”

 

“Please, Lom… just leave it, will you?”

 

“No. I won’t leave it. “

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I’m your friend… because I care about you… because this isn’t right?”

 

“I know you want to help, Lom, but really... there’s nothing you can do.”

 

“I’m not giving up on you, even if you have.”

 

“It won’t change anything.”

 

“Things can change. You can make them change.”                       

 

“Can I turn the clock back?”

 

“Well, no, none of us can do that… but you can change the way you look at things.”

 

“And how can I do that, Lom?  I saw my partner shot through the heart, saw him step in front of me and take a bullet that was meant for me, saw him die, right there at my feet.  Tell me, Lom, how can I change the way I look at that?”

 

“It wasn’t your fault.”

 

“It was me the guy was aiming at.”

 

“You didn’t pull the trigger.”

 

“I might as well have done…”

 

“You mustn’t talk like that. He reacted instinctively… the same way you would have done in his shoes. You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s actions.”

 

“Can’t I?”

 

“It’s easy to say ‘what if I’d done this’ or ‘hadn’t done that’ in hindsight, but we’re not mind readers. If we could see into the future, obviously, we’d do things differently than we do. But we can’t, we can only react to things as they happen, so apportioning blame is a futile exercise.”

 

“He’s still gone.”

 

“And drinking yourself into oblivion isn’t going to bring him back.”

 

“No, but it blanks it all out.”

 

“He wouldn’t want to see you like this.

 

“I know.”

 

“He’d want you to go on and live your life, as much for him as for yourself.”

 

“I know he would.”

 

“And wouldn’t you have wanted him to do the same, if the situation was reversed?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So, why aren’t you?”

 

“I’m not as strong as he was.”

 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think this past couple of days, while the Doc’s been taking care of you… You didn’t fall into the river accidentally, in a drunken stupor, did you?”

 

“No.”

 

“You jumped off the bridge in a deliberate attempt to kill yourself, didn’t you?  

 

“…Yes.”

 

“Oh God.”

 

“And I only have on regret...”

 

“What?”

 

“That it didn’t work.”

 

“You don’t mean that?”

 

“Yes, I do…”

 

“But…”

 

“It should have been me in that pine box in the ground, Lom, not him… How can I go on and enjoy life, knowing that? I’ve been living on borrowed time since that day…”

 

“What are you telling me….?”

 

“I’m not telling you anything.”

 

“Look, I understand your feelings, truly I do, but you owe it to him to make the best of your life, otherwise his death will have been for nothing. Don’t you see that? Please, promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Please?”

 

“I’m tired… you should go now…”

 

“I won’t let you throw your life, and his legacy, away because of some misguided sense of guilt. He did what he did because he wanted you to stay alive, and so do I. He watched your back, just as you watched his, and from now on, I’m gonna be doing the same.

 

“You’re a good man, Lom, and a good friend, better than I deserve. I’d like to be able to make you that promise, but the truth is… I can’t.”

 

“Don’t say that. I told you, I’m not giving up on you even if you have. He wouldn’t have, and neither will I.  Now, you get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow. OK…? Goodnight now.”

 

“Bye, Lom.”

 

--ooOOoo--

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