Shattered

The second hand of the clock made its march around in agonizingly slow circles. Watching from just below the edge of a magazine not actually worthy of his attention, Joe counted down the minutes since the nurse had finished changing his bandages and left the room. 

Two more minutes.

Gently biting down on his lip as he let out a slow breath, he nodded.

Putting the magazine down, he rolled his wheelchair to the door and cautiously glanced around. As he’d hoped, the nurses were gathered at the station far down the hall, their backs turned as they took their mid afternoon break. He rolled himself out as swiftly and silently as the ancient wheelchair would allow. Every turn of the wheel came with a telltale moan of complaint from worn down rubber against the dull shine of sterile tiling. 

Finally, he managed to coast into the room across the hall, and let out the breath he’d been holding.

This room, like his, was small, with two beds and a system of curtains hanging from u-shaped frames for privacy if needed. One set was pulled back, the empty bed awaiting its next victim. He had come for the person not quite hidden by the second curtain in the room. He wheeled over and coughed to get the other man’s attention.

“What do you want?” the man asked. His voice was rough, as though it not only dragged through gravel, but stubbornly dug its heels in along the way. 

“Hey, I…” Joe paused, realizing his hands were sweaty, and that the knot in his stomach was not actually a need to use the bathroom. He began to rush through his words before his courage could fail him. “I just wanted to talk, see I know they want us to talk in those group sessions, but those other people just don’t get it. They may have been there, but you and I, we actually got shot and - and we saw that psycho- heard what he said before…” The knot gave way, and a slow wave of heat rose up until his face had changed color. “I… I’m sorry, I’ll go now.”

He began to maneuver his wheelchair to leave when the gravelly voice floated over, a low mumble.

“Sorry?” Joe said, turning the chair back around slowly.

“I hate public bathrooms…” the man said “always have. Filthy, people always pee on the seat, or don’t flush. I try my best not to use them, but that day…” He lifted his head and brown eyes pierced into Joe’s. With a shrug the man continued. “When you gotta go you gotta go. Anyway… I’d just finished washing my hands. Walked out and didn’t make it ten steps before I heard the screaming. You know, I think if I hadn’t had to go to the bathroom, I would’ve been on the other side of the mall? Wouldn’t have ended up here, that's for sure…” He paused, looking out the window. 

Joe also glanced through the fourth storey window and came to a realization. The mall where both men had been shot was only a few blocks away, and clearly visible from the room they were in.

Joe was about to speak when the man continued. “Instead, I see this crazy old man waving a gun around. Didn’t feel like I thought it would- getting shot- figured there’d be more pain. All I remember now though is feeling something punch into me, felt the pressure of it, and then I was staring at that fake tree just outside of the bathrooms. The funniest part of it all? The whole time all I could think about was how dirty that floor was, and that two of the tiles that make up the fancy wall around the tree were busted up and cracked.”

The man fell silent.

Joe nodded. “Darrel, right?” he asked before continuing.

Darrel gave a grunt, the only indication Joe would get that the name was right. 

Joe shivered. “I was… I had just bought my lunch. Now that I think about it, I think I saw you stumble away from the washroom, because that was the direction that the gunshots started in. I keep seeing small details, when I close my eyes. The shooter was balding, grey hair and lots of extra skin hanging off him. I keep seeing the tee shirt he wore. It was this faded red shirt- must have been from a concert, but you couldn’t make out the band name anymore. The shirt had not fit him for a long time either. I remember that after he had turned and sprayed bullets in my direction, I could see the flabby part of his stomach hanging out.”

Joe took a deep breath as the memory replayed.

“What he said though… you had to have heard it if you were staring at that tree. I must have been just on the other side from you, because I think I pulled myself up to lean against that wall. I remember looking up and seeing the leaves and thinking it would be the last thing I saw before…”

Joe trailed off into silence.

Darrel grunted again. 

“He came closer to where we were.” Darrel said. “That’s about when the cops started charging in.” Darrel pointed to the bandage wrapping his arm. “You know, it was only the shot in the chest that came from the shooter’s gun. This one in my arm was a stray bullet from the cops shooting at him.”

Joe shook his head. “Crazy…”

Another grunt. “Anyway, I heard that prick. I had a clear look at the shooter as he put that gun right under his chin and said…” Darrel paused.

“This one’s for you Dad.” Joe finished. 

Darrel gave a low whistle. “That’s what I heard too.”

Silence filled the room, and a cloud passed over the sun outside, shadows encroaching until it felt as though the uncaring, fluorescent lights were the only thing holding back a colder darkening that had seeped into the room with them.

Joe managed to speak, his words just above a whisper as he stared out the window at the mall. 

“It was like watching a drape pulled back. Only, it’s night outside and the streetlights burn out one by one… and made me wonder, if he could get to that place- so dark, so hurt… That’s what I saw- heard- when he said that, Darrel. That kind of pain, it’s everywhere, can get anyone… it did get us. What happens if I become like that?”

Joe looked right into Darrel’s waiting eyes. “I’m terrified that- having seen that kind of sickness- I could now do something like that myself.”

Another moment of silence, as Darrel closed his eyes and began to breathe as deeply as he could. 

“I can’t tell you it won’t happen.” Darrel said at last. “I do know pain though.” Darrel opened his eyes and continued. “I lost my parents to violence when I was a kid. My aunt was a kind lady, but had a family of her own. I wasn’t treated badly, but she didn’t know how to help me. Met my wife a few years later, and while she never asked, I think she understands why I don’t talk about the past. See, Joe, truth is you’re right. That darkness does lie just behind a thin veil, and now more than ever it’s easy to find it if you go looking. Anyway, one person, even hundreds of people throwing money at it, pretending to be righteous- there’s always going to be someone hurting, and some hurt person that doesn’t get the help. The real choice is what to do about the pain. This guy, he couldn’t hold in that pain, couldn’t cope with it either, so he pulled a gun out in a mall and let other people take the pain for him.” Darrel steeled his gaze out the window and pointed to the mall. “Can’t unsee what lies behind the curtain Joe, but you don’t have to face it alone. Once you know that, whether you turn out like him, turn out like me, or find some better way that I haven’t, that’s the choice you make.”

Darrel finally turned his gaze from the window and then glanced up at the clock. He offered Joe the closest thing to a smile he could manage and then winked. “You best sneak back to your room now, the nurses will be by to do rounds again soon.”

Joe nodded, too lost in thought to respond.

“And, Joe?”

He stopped just short of the door.

“Come back tomorrow, same time okay?”

Joe nodded, and as he rolled back to his room, the cloud pulled away. As he moved towards his own window, Joe noticed something he had missed before. A small bit of sunlight hit the leaves of a small tree sitting in the corner near his bed, just in front of a curtain neatly tucked out of the way.