Marcus hadn't wasted any time—he'd called an ambulance right away. He was now sitting on the small armchair in Dominick's room, thinking about his friend's situation, about the stupidity of letting himself—practically—die.
He also imagined the girl's situation. She was only a victim of Dominick's actions; he didn't blame her for wanting to leave.
Dom tried to open his eyes, but a harsh light stung them. He tried to shield himself with one hand, but pain shot up his arm—the IV catheter had shifted.
He managed to make out the figure of his friend in the small chair.
"Marcus? Where are we?" he asked, trying to sit up.
He had an IV drip. He'd been dehydrated.
"At last, you're awake." Marcus stood up. "You've been here for over eight hours. Do you want to throw your life away? Are you out of your mind?" he reproached him. "Why don't you just shoot yourself and spare us from watching you like this?"
"Marcus…"
"Be quiet, idiot!" he snapped, fed up with his friend's behavior. "For almost three damn years you've been whining in the corners, drinking out of control, stopped eating, and pushed away everyone who's tried to help you. I've done everything to get you to do something about the mess you've turned your life into, but I'm done. I didn't want it to come to this, but you've left me no choice."
"What are you talking about?" he asked.
"I know where that girl is," Marcus informed him. Dominick's eyes widened, trying to process his friend's angry words. "I have a detailed report on what happened with Jade—what she did and what she's been doing since she left. Everything."
"How…" he paused, blinking, trying to take it all in—or at least to try. He shifted in the bed. "How did you find her? Where is she? I have to get out of here right now. I need to…"
"Don't even bother," Marcus interrupted. Dominick, who was about to rush out of bed, froze at his friend's words.
"What?" He frowned. "There's no time to lose. I have to leave now. I can't wait any longer."
"You don't understand, Dominick," Marcus said firmly, his serious tone and expression confusing Dominick even more.
"Then explain," he demanded, irritated.
"I know where she is, but that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you," he muttered.
"You're obliged to—"
"I don't owe you anything," Marcus cut him off again. "I'm not giving you that information so you can go hurt that girl even more. Can't you see how you are right now? Don't you get that, at this point in your life, you're only harmful—to her, to yourself, to everyone around you?" Marcus glared at him. "I'm not telling you anything until you understand that, the way you are, you won't get anywhere."
"You can't do this to me!" Dominick shouted in fury.
"I can do whatever I want." Marcus turned back toward the armchair and picked up his phone. "I'll be at the hotel. I won't stay long because I don't want to waste time away from my wife. Find me if you're really going to do something to change your attitude."
"Marcus, don't do this to me," he pleaded. "You know I've been looking for her for so long…"
"And?" Marcus narrowed his eyes. "That means nothing to me. When you stop drinking and show me you're serious about fixing your life, I'll give you the information. Don't come looking for me if you haven't, because I won't give you anything—and I don't care what you say, you won't make me change my mind." He walked to the door and opened it. Before leaving, he said, "Dominick, I hope you understand I'm doing this for your own good. You already know my conditions to get that information. Goodbye."
"Marcus! Marcus!" he called after him. "You can't do this to me! Damn it!" He slammed his fist against the bed.
Dominick cursed over and over again. He knew where he was; he was so close, and yet so far from getting what he wanted.
A nurse had come in to take his vital signs, and—when he asked—she had told him he would be discharged the next day.
He spent the following hours thinking, analyzing the situation. In his head, Marcus's words echoed again and again…
[...]
The next day...
He had left the hospital early. The doctor had prescribed him painkillers and also recommended keeping the area clean to avoid infection…
The doctor had also said he should start a diet to prevent chronic anemia. He had only nodded. His deteriorated appearance worried anyone; he had huge crescent‑shaped dark circles under his eyes.
A taxi dropped him off outside the hotel; he paid with the money Marcus had left for him.
He limped inside and went straight to the elevator. He reached his room just as a woman was walking out. She shot him a nasty look—the disgust on her face obvious.
And he knew perfectly well why.
Inside, they had cleaned up his mess again. His head ached, and his wrist was swollen from the IV. He lay down on the bed, and thanks to the painkillers, he slept for a few hours.
[...]
It was dark when he woke up. He got out of bed, his stomach growling for food. He barely ate—only when he wasn't unconscious or too drunk to hold himself up. He ordered something light from room service.
An hour later, he had taken a decent shower and eaten. He needed to clear his head. He grabbed some cash and left the hotel, taking a taxi.
"Wait for me here," he asked when the driver reached the address he'd given. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Dominick got out and entered the supermarket. He went straight to the liquor aisle, picked up only one bottle, paid for it, and returned to the taxi. He gave the driver the new address while taking his first swig from the bottle.
About fifteen minutes later, the man stopped in front of a park. Dom handed him the fare and stepped out.
The cold breeze ruffled his hair. He looked around; it was just as it had been years ago. He began to walk and went to sit on that same bench—the one that had witnessed the first days of his relationship, the same one that, one dawn, had seen the overflowing passion between him and Jazmín.
He stared into the darkness, remembering those times of happiness, wondering where he'd be now if she hadn't betrayed him. He smiled and shook his head. Remembering was useless; it only hurt more.
Memories invaded his mind as he drank, trying to convince himself he had done nothing to deserve that betrayal. His subconscious asked why he kept clinging to the same thing—to the past, to the hatred and immense pain he had been dealt—and, as always, he had no answer. For years, resentment had been the only thing filling his life.
He remembered months earlier, when he'd stormed out and almost been hit by a car. His friend had scolded and lectured him…
~Flashbacks~
~Marcus had taken him back to his room, furious and disappointed with his friend's behavior. He threw him onto the bed and went into the bathroom to run the bath.
He returned to where Dominick lay and looked at him reproachfully.
"Where were you supposed to be going?" Marcus asked, crossing his arms.
"I… don't know," Dom answered, staring at the ceiling. "Out somewhere, maybe."
"Dominick, you were lucky. If that guy hadn't braked in time…"
"I'd be dead," he cut him off.
"Is that really what you want?" his friend stepped closer.
"I haven't known what I want for a long time. I feel lost, anxious. Sometimes I think silencing the voices in my head is the only way to have peace." He sighed. "I'd gotten used to living like this—empty, broken inside. I thought my crap wasn't hurting anyone, but now, after what happened with Jade… I…" he went quiet for a few seconds. "I don't know how to react."
"I can promise you this isn't the way," Marcus said, extending his hand. "Come on. You need cold water, clean clothes because you stink, and a hot soup."
Dom took his hand and, with Marcus's help, went into the bathroom. As best he could, he took off his shirt, shoes, and pants. Dominick stepped into the tub, and Marcus sat down on the toilet lid.
"Only real friends do this kind of thing," Marcus muttered, rolling his eyes.
"It's not that big a deal," Dom chuckled.
"Well, if sitting on a toilet with another guy while he's almost naked in the tub isn't a big deal, check yourself—something's off with you," he joked.
"Thanks, Marcus. Really…"
"Don't thank me. Your words mean nothing right now. Instead, stop drinking and do something with your life, Dom. You're destroying yourself. If you really want to find that woman, start by getting your life together. Don't you think?"
Dom felt the cold water chill him to the bone; he needed it to take the edge off the hangover pounding in his head.
"I feel like crap," he closed his eyes. "I don't even know how to explain it. I'd like to end it all because somehow I think I'm paying for what I did.
"Don't punish yourself, Dom. Even if you did wrong, even if you hurt that girl somehow, nobody deserves for you to let yourself fall apart like this," Marcus said. He felt a little hypocritical at the moment — he had been through something similar but had pulled himself together in time. He continued, "You're not entirely to blame, Dominick. She should have spoken to you; you were extremely drunk and also on medication. That was bad of you," he reproached.
Dominick shook his head.
"The only one responsible for my misery is me, Marcus, and I won't rest until I've made up for the damage I caused," he said, turning to look at his friend.
"If that were true, you'd be doing more than drinking and letting guilt control you…"~
A tear slid down his left cheek. His chest burned; everyone was right, but part of him refused to accept it. His stubborn side clung to the pain, to continuing to suffer, to giving up. Only a tiny part of him wanted to fight, to conquer the hatred, to change the self-pitying path his life had taken, to stop feeling the grip his heart imposed — a heart that refused to feel anything but anger…
He kept wallowing in his misery, recalling all the wrongs he had done over the past three years and some months — all the time since returning to New York. His reckless actions had forced him to fire a man who was innocent, and had also ended his friendship with Lizet, who had only wanted to help him.
He thought about Maximiliano, whom he hadn't seen in a long time, even though they lived in the same place. Maximiliano had been traveling a lot and had some issues with a woman, though Dom wasn't sure — he had been too drunk when Marcus told him about it, so he didn't remember much.
He looked at the bottle, which was nearly empty. He finished it and, feeling immense exhaustion, let sleep drag him away. The position he was in wasn't very comfortable, and his leg was starting to ache — the painkillers' effect fading — but none of that stopped Dominick from falling asleep on that park bench.
[...]
The constant licks from a small dog began to wake him. The sun had barely risen, and the air was cold. Dominick blinked, feeling the wet little paws on him.
He opened his eyes fully and saw the small pug running around him.
"Mr. Cookies!" he heard a girl say, coming out of nowhere. "There you are!"
He looked at the girl with beautiful blond hair, her green eyes almost unreal. Her round little cheeks were flushed from Dominick's recent inspection.
"Hi," the girl said, dropping into the grass to pick up her puppy.
"Hi," he replied, slightly taken aback by her sudden appearance.
"Mr. Cookies likes you," she smiled. The little pug tried to lick her face. "Did you sleep here?" Her face showed a funny mix of confusion.
"Yes…" he answered, a strange sensation settling in his chest. "Where's your mom?"
"There," she said, pointing at a pregnant blond woman who was looking around.
The woman turned and smiled when she saw the girl, walking toward her. The closer she got, the faster Dominick's heart raced. Her hair was much shorter now…
He couldn't believe he was seeing her again after all those years.
"Iveth, I told you not to bother people who don't—" She stopped, staring at Dominick, unable to believe it was him. Her eyes no longer had that old sparkle, and her beard was long; he looked like a homeless man in expensive clothes. "Dominick… is that you?"
"She…," he swallowed hard, feeling a sharp pang in his chest, "that girl… is your daughter?"