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Jack had to be the first one to Robby’s apartment to make this plan a success. A group chat flooded with messages helped plan this evening so meticulously that nothing could fall between the cracks. Donnie just had to convince Robby to grab drinks after their shift, a task that couldn't be easily avoided. After Robby was out, everyone from the day shift would head to his apartment, picking up their assigned items on the way. Princess and Perlah were bringing pancit and buko pandan, respectively. Santos had been put on drink duty, and Jack wasn’t quite sure what to expect from that one. Everyone else had kept their items pretty secretive, except for McKay, who insisted on bringing paper plates and plastic cutlery.
Jack was parked just down the street from the apartment. He glanced at the passenger seat, eyeing the twelve-pack of beers, and more specifically, the envelope taped to the top of it. God, as much as Jack didn’t want to admit it, he was going to miss Robby. They didn’t work together often, but the yin and yang of it all made them an inseparable pair. The nights Robby spent at Jack’s house for the weeks after his wife died were seared into his brain, the compassion and care of his friend. He was almost sure that Robby felt the same way about the weeks Jack lived in his apartment after Dr. Adamson had passed, and the shorter stay after PittFest.
There was one thing that always seemed to let them down. Words. There were the occasional jabs during hand-off, and an unspoken agreement during many nights on the rooftop, but they never told each other how much they loved and cared about the other. Jack knew that Robby cared about him, and he could only hope that Robby knew the feeling was mutual. But, in the small chance he didn’t, it was all detailed in the letter he would slip in Robby’s jacket pocket tonight.
It had taken Jack three weeks to get all of the thoughts in his head into a jumbled collection of words on lined paper. Not only that, it took him thirty minutes to figure out how to sign the letter off. Was “Love,” too much? He had tossed the idea back and forth in his head before landing on “be good,” hoping that it would send across his worry for his dear friend.
A notification on his phone pulled him from his thoughts, and a glance at it confirmed that their plan had moved into action. He pushes open the car door, throwing his phone in his back pocket. He walks around to the passenger side, pulls the pack of beer out, and stuffs the envelope in his jacket. Patting his pocket to confirm the key he had grabbed from his safe was still there, he began the short walk to Robby’s apartment.
Not even five minutes later, he found himself in front of a door that was almost as familiar as the front door to his house. He balanced the twelve-pack on his hip as he fished the apartment key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, pushing it open with his shoe. Jack wasn’t sure what he was expecting when walking through the entryway, but it definitely wasn’t this.
The apartment was completely empty. Of course, it was to be expected that there wouldn’t be any food that could expire, and it may have been pretty clean, but any proof of life has been wiped from this space. Jack put the twelve-pack down on the floor and stepped back out to the front stairs, checking to make sure he didn’t accidentally let himself into a vacant apartment. But no, this was for sure Robby’s apartment. He stepped back into the apartment, and this time his eyes landed on the one thing out of the ordinary in the living room, a shoe box.
The shoe box must have been left over from the stupid hiking boots when he bought himself that donor-cycle. Jack’s skin went cold, and it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, but he wasn’t sure why. He felt like he had been intruding into a private space, which he technically had, but now something felt off. Against his better judgment, he walked over to the box and flipped the top open, and his breath caught in his throat.
There were at least twenty envelopes stacked on top of each other. He couldn’t help himself, and he started flicking through the box. He passed over an envelope for Dana, for Jake, even one for Heather, and at the bottom, he finally landed on an envelope with his name on it. He knew what this was; he wasn’t a stranger to Robby feeling like this. Jack has brought out trash bags full of crumpled pages, but he has never seen a collection like this completed before.
Against his better judgment, he ripped open the envelope, unfolding the paper,
Dear Jack,
I’m not sure if this will be entirely a surprise to you. I tried to brush off all of your remarks about the motorcycle and my sabbatical. I know it was your way of saying that you noticed, and that you care, and I’m sorry that it came to this. I love and care about you so much, and I would truly fight through another thirty years of the ED if I could, but I think we both know that I can’t. I hope you know how much I valued our friendship, even if I actively fought against it whenever I could.
Thank you for being there when everyone else was dealing with their own shit, including you. Even if it felt like I didn’t want you there, you being willing to stay with me while I was grieving will forever mean the world to me. Thank you for keeping our rooftop meetups a secret. I was so sure that one day you would sign off on a 302 for me, but you didn’t. Thank you for trusting me.
Please don’t beat yourself up for not doing anything to stop me. You know I’m a stubborn son of a bitch anyway. I was going to find some way out of this, and the last thing I want is for you to wallow in pity, or, god forbid, try to follow me. Live for both of us if you can. I really hope you forgive me for breaking your trust. You are my best friend, and I hope you don’t hold this against me. I truly can’t keep doing this anymore. I can’t lose another Dr. Adamson, I can’t send another Langdon home, I can’t live through another PittFest. I could never figure out the answer to why I keep coming back, and when I stepped back and looked around, I realized that without the ED, I’m nothing. It’s easier this way.
Don’t follow me. If not for yourself, do it for everyone else. We need you.
Love,
Robby
Fuck. Jack blinked away the tears forming in his eyes as the realization buried itself in his stomach. This wasn’t Robby cleaning before a big trip; this was Robby leaving absolutely nothing of himself behind. Jack dropped the letter and stepped down the hallway leading to the bedroom. Peeking his head in the bathroom on his way, the stone in his chest got heavier and heavier as any signs of life were wiped clean.
Passing the threshold into the bedroom, he ripped open the drawers of Robby’s dresser, finding nothing but the occasional change and gum wrappers. Jack sat down on the bed, forcing himself to take a deep breath. Either way, Robby would have to end up back here and see for himself that people cared about him. Hopefully, before Robby could find an excuse to leave, Jack could pull him aside to talk to him. At this point, Jack was willing to slash the tires of that motorcycle, but he would try using his words first.
His phone buzzed in his back pocket, and he pulled it out to see a text from Dana, asking to be let in the front door. Jack started to walk towards the front door before realizing what he had left behind on the coffee table. He stuffed the letter and envelope back in the box, crossing the room to place it on the shelf at the top of the coat closet, hoping that all of the partygoers wouldn’t bat an eye at the placement of a shoe box.
He turned, opening the door to a smirking Dana, “Fuck were you doing?” She brushed past him, patting him on the shoulder, “Wow, it’s a ghost town in here.”
Jack stuttered, “Oh- yeah, Robby was worried about mold or whatever, I’m storing his stuff in the guest bedroom until he comes back. He was the only person who really used it anyway.” The lie slipped out of his mouth faster than he could think about it. Robby wasn’t really a person to think that far ahead, and more often than not, Robby would sleep in his bed, but maybe Dana would let this one go.
“Oh, alright, I guess he is finally starting to grow up.” She chuckled, setting her purse down on the kitchen counter. Before he knew it, the apartment was buzzing with people, putting platters of food and desserts on the kitchen island, and talking in hushed voices about different patients they had seen that day. There was rarely any time to debrief during their shifts.
Ten minutes later, Robby let Donnie into the apartment after the man insisted that he needed to use the bathroom, an excuse of the bar food catching up to him. Robby, however, did not know that dozens of doctors and nurses would be in his apartment, waiting to send him off for his sabbatical. Jack let himself enjoy the festivities, but he was avoiding actually talking to Robby. As the party started to wind down, he excused himself out to the balcony for a smoke and some quiet.
The balcony had the same charm as the hospital's roof. By no means was he as high up, but he got to watch the lights across the city, hear chatting and laughter on the streets below, and let the world slow down with his thoughts. He fished a cigarette and a lighter out of his pocket, placing it between his lips. Flicking the lighter on with his right hand and blocking the small flame from the wind with his left, he watched as the end of the cigarette started to crumble away. He enjoyed the fresh air and watched as his smoky breath swirled in the air, but the silence was broken by the door sliding open behind him.
“You know those things will kill you, right?” Robby joked, stepping past him and leaning on the railing, observing the same sights Jack was enjoying. An eerily familiar atmosphere fell between the two of them, one felt on the many nights and early mornings on a rooftop.
Jack sighed, fingers pinching the cigarette away from his mouth as his arms rested on the railing, “You’re one to talk.” A response that would feel normal to anyone to close to the balcony doors, but said everything that Jack wanted to say.
The other man chuckled, head dropping to look at his shoes, “You’re the only person at this party that has a key to my place, y’know.” Robby turned to look at Jack, who was trying his absolute hardest to maintain eye contact with some lamppost a couple of blocks away, “I’m really sorry you had to find those, Jack.”
The emotions in Jack’s chest boiled over, “Yeah, well, at least I found them before you fucking died.” The words were so angry in his throat, but he sounded so broken pushing them out of his teeth. He turned to look into Robby’s eyes, his frustration being overtaken by his devastation, “Why didn’t you just talk to me, man?”
The next words from Robby were barely louder than a whisper, “You weren’t supposed to know.”
Jack’s throat tightened, and tears formed in his eyes, “And now what? We go back to this party, and everyone bids you well as you drive off on your motorcycle? And I have to let you, and pretend to be shocked when I get the call? You know I’m not gonna let you just walk out of here, brother, you have to talk to someone, and if it’s not me, I’ll help you find someone.” His voice betrays him, breaking as tears start to flow, “I care about you, and I need you in my life. I know shit is hard right now, but you can get through it.” And before thinking, he’s wrapping Robby in his arms, who has matching tear streaks down his face.
“Okay,” Robby says, muffled into his shoulder, “I believe you.”