Dear Justin,

Yes, it’s me: Daph. Your best friend, confidante and prom date, writing you a letter. Other than email, I haven’t written a *real* letter in forever; I don’t think I’ve ever written a letter to you , even in the summer when we were both at camp. So, why am I writing to you now?

Because I miss you, that’s why. You’re in the very next room and I can go in and see you just about any time I want - your mother gave specific instructions that your friends must have access to visit you, except when the doctors or nurses were in there, examining you and stuff. I can talk to you, but you can’t hear me and you can’t answer me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this alone in my entire life.

I went to school this morning, but I was a wreck. After staying here late Friday night, I went home and slept a little. As soon as I woke up Saturday, I came back. It was depressing here, just sitting around and waiting, trying to think of something to say to your mom, but I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. I know that, if the situation was reversed, you’d be here, impatiently waiting on me to wake up. Which is what I’m doing for you.

I spent the day here yesterday as well. That’s the day the doctors told your mom that they didn’t think you’d need surgery. You had some bleeding near your brain - I think they called it ‘hematoma’ - but it was getting better with the medication they were giving you. I haven’t had a chance to talk to your mother a lot because she stays in your room most of the time. She looked really tired when she came out to tell us the ‘good news’ about no surgery. She went home last night to sleep, but only after she made three nurses promise to call her if anything changed.

Like I said, I went to school today. My mom said I didn’t have to, but I didn’t want to stay home. Besides, I wanted to be there to remind every one of Chris’ friends and fellow homophobes that we weren’t beaten and that we weren’t going to go away. Every time anyone looked at me, I wanted them to think about you, and what happened. I don’t ever want them to forget.

So much for bright ideas: I made it to second period before I started crying. Mr. Dickson called your name during roll, and I just lost it. Everyone was looking at me and most of them felt sorry for me, I know. Except for Mr. Dickson - he just kinda looked annoyed, like he wished I’d go away. He told me to go and pull myself together, then I could come back to class. I was on the way to the bathroom when I met Ms. Nessler in the hall. She seemed surprised to see me, then she told me to go home. I know you think she’s a bitch, Justin, but I always thought that was because you hated history. I’ve always thought she’s pretty cool.

Ms. Nessler walked me out to my car, then we stood and talked for a couple of minutes. She asked how you were and I said they wouldn’t know much until you woke up, and they didn’t know how long that would be. She told me not to worry about school, that I had less than two weeks left and that she’d clear it so I didn’t have to come back. I started crying again and she said, ‘You miss Justin, don’t you? You wish there was something you could do, am I right?’ I nodded and she gave me a final ‘assignment’: she told me to write everything down - everything that happened and everything I thought and wanted to say to you, but couldn’t. She told me to write it all in a letter, which I could give to you when you wake up. She said it would be good ‘therapy’ for me, that it would help me pass the time while I was waiting.

And that’s why I’m writing this: it’s my last homework assignment ever from high school; I don’t have to turn it in and I’m not sure I’ll ever give it to you either. But I think Ms. Nessler is right - it does seem to help me deal with things and pass the time. I’ve always loved writing, just like you’ve always loved drawing. Remember when we were kids - we talked about what we’d do when we grew up? You were going to be a famous artist and I was going to be a writer.

It’s Monday evening, about 8pm.

Now that I’ve explained what I’m doing, I don’t know what else to say. I can say I miss you, but I think I said that already. I can tell you about all the kids who came up to me at school yesterday, asking how you were. They were so shocked by what happened; many of them said they were happy that Chris was in the hospital as well, that he didn’t deserve to be walking around when you couldn’t. No danger of him doing any walking anytime soon: I saw Samantha Fosse in the parking lot yesterday and she said Chris had had reconstructive surgery on his knee yesterday morning and he’s probably going to need several more operations before he’ll even be able to walk without crutches. She said he’d lost his football scholarship to Penn State. ‘Poor Chris,’ she said. ‘Justin’s boyfriend didn’t have to do that to him, you know.’

I’m glad I didn’t have Chris’ baseball bat, Justin, because I think I’d have hit her, right there next to her fancy little sports car. I got so mad that I couldn’t even say anything - I just turned and walked away. I guess I’m not a fighter, like you. Somehow, I can’t help thinking that, if you were LESS of a fighter, would you be here?

It’s now almost noon on Tuesday morning.

Sorry, I had to stop writing and take a break for a minute, then Debbie told me I should go home for the night. I started crying and I just couldn’t stop. It seems like the smallest things make me cry. I’m not alone in that, though. Everybody who’s come and gone in the past few days seems to shed more than a few tears in here - especially the ones who stay for very long. And there have been a lot of people that have spent time here: a few of the kids from school brought cards by, but there weren’t many and they didn’t stay long. This is just too sad for most teenagers to comprehend, I guess.

There has been an almost-unending stream of guys from the diner and Woody’s and even Babylon, I think. They come in two or three or four at a time and they only stay a few minutes; they look a little lost, like they want to say something, but they don’t know what to say and they don’t know who to say it to. If Debbie or Emmett is around, they usually speak to them. I never would have believed that so many people would be affected by what happened. You’ve become kind of a symbol for a lot of people. They even mentioned you on the news: they used your yearbook picture from last year - the one that you said made you look like you were on drugs. They’re planning a candlelight vigil Friday night, somewhere down on Liberty Avenue. Emmett told me about it and said it would mean a lot if I could come, and even say something. I don’t know - it would be sad enough to be there. I can’t imagine actually speaking in front of a crowd of people I don’t know.

With all the traffic in and out, there are a few who have been here almost from the beginning and we only go home long enough to shower and sleep, then we come right back. You can probably guess who ‘we’ are: your mom, of course, and Debbie, when she’s not working. Vic stays as long as Debbie will let him, then she takes him home and comes right back. Emmett, also, is here when he’s not working. Ted comes and goes, and he’s very quiet. Okay, he never said anything to me anyway, but Emmett told me he’s having a hard time right now. The young guy who was living with him - I can’t remember his name - left rehab and took off without telling anybody. Emmett’s really worried about him, but there isn’t a lot he can do. Lindsay and Melanie have been here some, but not together since Friday night. They don’t want to leave Gus with a sitter and they’re afraid he’ll disturb everyone here. Your mom said they both call a lot and they’ve promised to bring Gus in to see you as soon as you wake up and are able to have visitors.

I didn’t tell you the whole story about Emmett and me, did I? Well, like the other members of ‘the group’, he never said much to me. I always thought he was cute, but I didn’t really believe everything you said about him, like the way he dresses and stuff. Anyway, I was already here Friday night when he and Ted came in. I came straight from the hotel and I still had on my prom dress; my hair was a mess and he helped me pull all the pins out of it and then gave me his jacket to wrap around my shoulders. I could tell he had been crying; he went to the bathroom and came back with a half-roll of toilet paper. Every so often, he’d unroll some and blow his nose, loudly. I was sitting by myself, not talking to anybody, and I guess he felt sorry for me: he asked if I wanted to go find a soda machine. At first, I said no. I didn’t know him and I wanted to be here in case… that is, if there was any news. He sat down next to me and whispered into my ear, ‘If you don’t take a walk with me, they’re gonna have to find *me* a bed and some drugs.’ I almost giggled at the look on his face and we started walking.

Justin, you always said Emmett was funny but you never told me how sweet he is. He kept chattering away as we walked through the halls. I told him he didn’t have to entertain me and he said he wasn’t; he was trying to entertain himself. When we got to the cafeteria, he made a big deal of looking for the machine that dispensed cosmopolitans. I pointed out that this was a hospital and that we wouldn’t even find a cigarette machine, much less a liquor machine. I made a face when he paid $1.25 for a bottle of water, then he told me about the first day you worked at the diner. He and Michael and Ted and Brian came in for breakfast and you brought them water, with your fingers stuck in the glasses. I tried to laugh, then I excused myself and starting looking for a ladies’ room, so I could cry again without him seeing me.

I had no idea of how fast Emmett can move, when he wants to. When I walked out of the stall and saw him standing there in the bathroom, examining his face in the mirror, I was shocked. ‘Do you think the color of this shirt makes my face look washed out?’ he asked. I told him that he wasn’t supposed in the women’s bathroom and he smiled. ‘Girlfriend,’ he said, ‘if I see anything I haven’t seen before, I’ll point it out to you. Besides, I had to make sure you were okay.’ From that moment on, he’s called me ‘girlfriend’.

As we walked out of the bathroom, I hesitated. As much as I wanted to find out if there was any news, it was depressing in the waiting room, just sitting there and staring at the walls. I asked him if we could take the long way back and he said yes. As we walked down deserted hallways, I told him what I knew of the attack, although I didn’t mention you and Brian dancing at the prom; I wasn’t sure if I should say anything about that. He was quiet for a minute, then he said, ‘Did Justin ever tell you about the night he and Brian met?’ I shook my head; he stopped walking and leaned against the wall. ‘Well, I remember it like it was yesterday, which is odd, if you think about it. After all, we’d seen *hundreds* of Brian’s tricks--‘ He paused, biting his lip. ‘Okay, maybe not hundreds, maybe only dozens.’ I told him it was okay, that you’d told me how promiscuous Brian was. Emmett laughed. ‘We all thought Justin was just another of Brian’s one-night stands, but I remember thinking how young he looked; how beautiful…’ He was quiet, staring off into the distance. I didn’t say anything and, after a minute, he looked back at me and smiled. ‘I never expected to see him again. Imagine my surprise when he turned up at Woody’s the next night, and at Babylon a few nights later.’ He paused for a few seconds. ‘Wait a minute - *you* were with him at Babylon that night, weren’t you? The night he took Brian away from those two guys?’ We shared a smile as we both remembered watching the two of you dancing. ‘I think,’ Emmett continued, ‘that was the night I knew Justin wasn’t going away, that Brian didn’t necessarily want to get rid of him.’

I guess I was still kinda lost in my thoughts because I said something about how unfair it all was and how I found it hard to believe that God would let something so horrible happen to you. Emmett stopped walking again. He had a weird look on his face and I thought he might yell at me; I started telling him that I was sorry, that I didn’t mean to act like such a baby. That’s when he smiled again and said, ‘Don’t ever apologize for the way you feel. You and Justin have been friends for a long time, haven’t you?’ I said, ‘yes’. ‘I figured,’ he said. ‘I had a friend, very much like you, when I was in high school. I never actually *told* her I was gay, and she never asked, but we both knew that she knew. You’re a good friend and Justin is lucky to have you.’

That’s when I kinda lost it and started yelling. ‘If I’m such a good friend, why couldn’t I stop this from happening? I saw Chris at school every day; I knew how much he hated Justin. I wanted to tell Justin to be careful, but I didn’t. Somehow, I thought everything would turn out okay. Justin told me, last week, that he’d be glad when he never had to go back to St. James. Maybe, if I’d said something--"

‘Girlfriend, listen to me!’ Emmett had grabbed my shoulders and his face was close to mine. ‘None of this is your fault, do you understand?’ I tried to look away. I didn’t want to hear this, but he kept talking. ‘One of the first impressions I had about Justin was that he was fearless. At first, I thought he was just a dumb, stupid kid but, the more I got to know him, the more I admired the way he refused to be swayed when he made up his mind to do something. Whether it was going after Brian or entering the strip contest at Babylon or trying to start a gay club at school, there was no talking to him once he made up his mind.’

Suddenly, he removed his hands from my shoulders and took a step back. ‘You’re not the only one who’s feeling guilty tonight, you know. Those of us who encouraged him to go to the prom, who cheered him on when he confronted Chris outside Woody’s that night and who took him into our circle of friends, expecting him to act like an adult when he clearly was still a child in many ways. I know you’re in pain, but you’re not the only one. We all care about Justin, ever since he bulldozed his way into our lives...’ Emmett’s voice broke and he stopped speaking for a minute before he continued, ‘You can wallow in self-pity if you want to, but I’m not ready to give up on our Sunshine without a fight. I, for one, will be praying for him non-stop until he’s back with us, where he belongs.’

Emmett stopped speaking as quickly as he’d started, then walked off down the hall. We covered the rest of the distance to the waiting room in silence. I went to your room and stuck my head in, just to make sure we hadn’t missed any news. Your mom said that your condition had stabilized and that we should think about going home for the night. She was staying, and she promised to call me if anything happened. I gave her a hug and left for home.

I was halfway to the door when I realized I still had Emmett’s jacket, so I turned around and walked back to the waiting room. I handed it to him without a word. I got a glimpse of his face as I was leaving; he looked so sad. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I had no right to yell at you when you’re hurting.’

‘I’m not the only one who’s hurting, I know that,’ I answered. He wrapped his arms around me and we stood like that for several minutes. I was crying again when he pulled back.

‘He’s gonna be okay, I just know it,’ he reassured me.

Reaching up, I kissed him on the cheek. ‘I know. I’m praying too.’

Emmett walked me out to my car and hugged me one more time before I left. Just before I drove off, I rolled down the window and yelled, ‘See you tomorrow, *boyfriend*!’

Wow! That story took much longer to write than I thought it would. Now that I think about it, maybe you don’t need to know every little detail of what happened. I think I’m going to edit this letter a lot before I give it to you, if I ever *do* give it to you.

It’s now a little after five pm and Brian has arrived. He always comes over and sits next to me; we don’t talk much, but he asks me if anything has happened since last night. I tell him the last thing your mom told me, about two hours ago: the CT scan they did this morning shows that you’re getting better. They expect you to wake up sometime in the next couple of days. This is good news, but it still means we have to wait. Brian isn’t good at waiting, and neither am I.

Michael just walked in; of all the people who are here regularly, Michael looks less like he wants to be here. I get the feeling he’s only here because of Brian.

Wait a minute - you don’t know that Michael didn’t go to Oregon, do you? Brian called him on his cell phone just before he got on the plane, and he came to the hospital instead. Michael hardly talks to anyone, except Brian. He brings a book to read but spends half the time trying to get Brian to go home. I know Michael is really worried about Brian and he thinks he’s doing what’s best. After a while, I think Brian just tunes him out.

I don’t know how much I want to tell you about what’s been going on with Brian. He told me not to even mention his name but I think you have a right to know. After all, that’s one of the reasons I’m writing all this stuff down, so you’ll have an idea of what was happening while you were asleep.

Okay, I might edit this story at the same time I edit the Emmett story, but I’m going to write down all of it:

I practically followed the ambulance over here Friday night. I saw Brian in the hallway when I went into the waiting room downstairs but I thought he’d left. He had some blood on his face and hands and his clothes were messed up - I thought he’d gone home to shower and change and that maybe he wouldn’t be back until Saturday morning.

When Emmett walked me out, we saw Brian and Michael in a side hallway, closer to the actual examining rooms than the waiting room was. There were just sitting there, not saying anything. Brian’s face - oh, Justin, you should have seen his face: he’d been crying. Maybe he still *was* crying; it was hard to tell without staring at him, which I definitely didn’t want to do. I had never seen him looking so sad and alone. I really wanted to say something to him, but I couldn’t think of anything, so I just walked on by.

I don’t think I’ve made it a secret that I think Brian is totally hot. Yes, I remember what I said about him the first time I saw him - I don’t think you’ll ever let me forget that I called him ‘old and skinny’. He’s always been nice to me, even though I think he’s teasing me. I’ve never said much to him, basically because I get tongue-tied when he’s around. Could that have something to do with the day you were showing me around his loft and he walked out of his bedroom naked? I just stood there and stared at him, like some dumb kid. I don’t think I ever told you about the time I yelled at him: you’d run away to New York and I was very upset. I was afraid that something bad was going to happen to you up there, all by yourself, and it would be Brian’s fault. I found him at Woody’s, along with the other guys; I told him that he had better find you and bring you home.

On the drive home, my mind kept repeating everything that had happened that night: the look on your face when Brian walked into the ballroom and the way everyone stopped and watched you two dancing. I was trying to remember that goofy smile you always got when Brian was around, or the way your voice sounded different when you talked about him. Instead, my mind kept going back to the parking garage: I didn’t even have to close my eyes to see you lying on the dirty floor, with Brian crouched over you, waiting for the ambulance to arrive. There was so much blood - your blood; I thought you were dead and I think Brian did too.

I didn’t see Brian until after noon on Saturday; I think he was in the hospital, but he stayed out in the halls or downstairs rather than sitting the waiting room with the rest of us. Debbie had brought us sandwiches for lunch and I made myself eat something so she wouldn’t scold me. Afterwards, I had to have a cigarette, so I went down to the back exit, where they have a makeshift smoking area. Emmett offered to go with me, but I told him to stay there, that I’d be back in a few minutes.

By the time I saw Brian, it was too late to pretend I didn’t, so I went over and asked if I could sit next to him. Despite the fact that he seemed deep in thought, he shifted over so I had room. He asked how long I ‘d been there. ‘A couple hours,’ I said. ‘I didn’t know you were here.’

‘Yeah, well, I don’t like being up there in that waiting room. I asked about Justin at the nurses’ desk, but they’d only tell me his condition was still critical, but stable. I’m not a family member…’ He looked away for minute, then back. ‘Is there any change?’

I shrugged. ‘He’s not any better, but he’s not any worse either. His mom said it’ll take some time before the drugs take effect, and he starts improving.’

‘Ahhh… Waiting for the drugs to kick in…’ He tried to smile. ‘How’s she doing?’ he asked.

‘Justin’s mom? She’s tired and worried and stressed out but I think she’s holding up okay. She’ll be better when Justin wakes up. She was asking Debbie, this morning, if you were here. She wanted to talk to you.’

‘To me?’ Brian looked down, concentrating on the butt he was grinding out in the ashtray. ‘I can imagine what she has to say to me.’

‘What does *that* mean?’

‘I’m sure she wants to thank me for fucking her son and helping him run away from home, then killing him.’

‘Don’t say that, Brian!’ I was almost yelling, but I couldn’t help it. The sad look on his face made me lower my voice. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t deal with anyone talking about Justin like he’s…’ I couldn’t say the word. ‘Besides, his mom isn’t like that; she doesn’t hate you. She’s only ever wanted him to be happy.’

He looked unconvinced. ‘That’s very generous of her, but the fact remains that this is all my fault. Justin wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for me.’

‘That’s not true, either.’ I had a feeling I was fighting a losing battle with this argument, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

‘It’s not?’ He looked unconvinced. ‘If I hadn’t shown up at the dance, that little prick would never have attacked him.’

‘Chris hit Justin twice at school, and you weren’t around.’

‘But he didn’t use the baseball bat at school. He was saving *that* for a special occasion.’

It was about this time when I realized that I was actually *talking* to Brian like an equal. It was too late to be nervous now - I felt like I was defending your honor, and I couldn’t give up. ‘What about the night, outside Woody’s, when Chris tried to hit him? Justin said you stepped between them and Chris backed down.’

‘Yeah, I told him he’d made a real enemy that night. He said he wasn’t worried, because he had me to protect him. He trusted me, and I failed him. I let my guard down for five minutes…’

‘Brian, no one could have known what Chris was planning. There’s no way you can blame yourself for it…’ He glared at me, but I kept talking. ‘If anything, you saved his life by calling 911 so quickly and staying with him until the ambulance arrived. The doctors say he has a good chance of recovering completely.’

‘What if he doesn’t recover completely? Has anyone thought about that?’ He paused, as if waiting for me to reply, but I said nothing. ‘He sustained a very hard blow to the head; he could be a vegetable for the rest of his life, or not be able to walk, or draw, or even see…’

Suddenly, the light bulb went on in my head. ‘And you’re afraid Justin won’t love you any more, if there’s something wrong with him?’

‘*What* did you say?’

I was startled by the tone of his voice and I don’t think I’d want to be around if he *really* lost his temper. ‘I said…’ I didn’t have the courage to repeat myself. ‘Sorry, I forgot that I’m not supposed to say the ‘L’ word around you.’

‘The ‘L’ word?!’ Brian’s smirk was back.

‘You know… Love. Justin says that’s the ultimate four-letter word to you.’

Standing up, Brian walked over to lean against a wall. ‘What do you know about love? You’re both--‘

‘Dumb teenagers, I know.’ I followed him, not allowing him to dismiss me with an insult. ‘I also know that Justin loves you.’

‘That’s bullshit.’

‘Is it? I was there last night, remember? I saw you walk in and lead Justin out onto the dance floor. I saw the smiles on both your faces; then you kissed him right there, in front of everybody. I’m Justin’s best friend and he tells me everything: what you say to him when no one else is around; what you two do, all night long, when he stays over at the loft.’ I knew I shouldn’t be betraying your confidence like that, but I didn’t want his remarks to go unchallenged. ‘I know you’re supposed to be this really smart guy who makes tons of money. If you don’t mind me saying so, I think you’re the one who’s dumb when it comes to Justin. He loves you, Brian. He loved you when you told him he was just a fuck. He loved you when you threw him out of your apartment and he had no place to go. He loved you when he won the King of Babylon contest to get your attention. He loved you when he asked you to the prom and you said no. He loved you when he went into the coma and he’s going to love you just as much when he comes out. When are you going to stop acting like an asshole and admit that you love him too?’

Brian took a long drag from yet another cigarette, then crushed it out against the wall behind him. ‘Just because Justin has a big mouth and tells you everything that goes on between us doesn’t mean anything. You’re both still stupid, fucking children who don’t have a stupid, fucking clue.’ He leaned forward, until his mouth was inches from my ear. ‘Fuck you, Daphne.’

He was gone before I could react. Turning around, I leaned against the wall where he’d just been standing, looking at the door he’d walked through when he left. That was quite an accomplishment, I told myself. When Justin wakes up, he’s going to want to see Brian, only Brian won’t be there. I’ll be the one who’ll have to tell Justin that I yelled at him and drove him away. Way to go, Daph.

Only that wasn’t the last I saw of Brian. To my surprise, he came into the waiting room Saturday night. It was after eight and I had just been in to see you one more time, before I went home. I was sitting there waiting for Emmett to get off the phone so we could walk out together when Brian walked in quickly and sat down beside me. He was dressed all in black and he looked totally hot. He didn’t say anything right away and I said, ‘You look great, Brian.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, absent-mindedly. ‘Can I talk to you? Alone?’

I was surprised that he wanted to talk to me at all, after the way he left earlier. I got up and went over to where Emmett stood, next to the pay phone. I whispered in his ear that I was going to take off, that I’d see him tomorrow morning. Brian followed me out into the hallway. I stopped, took a deep breath and looked up. ‘Brian, I’m sorry I called you an asshole this afternoon.’

‘That’s okay. Sometimes I *am* an asshole. I should be apologizing to you.’ He stopped short of actually saying ‘I’m sorry’, but the fact that he mentioned it surprised me.

‘We’re all kinda stressed out, aren’t we?’ I tried to summon a smile of encouragement.

‘Yeah. How’s Justin?’

‘They say the swelling in his brain is starting to go away, but he’s still not awake. I was just in there, sitting with him.’ I grabbed his hand and started walking toward your room. ‘You should go in for a minute…’

‘No.’ Brian stopped walking, refusing to let me pull him toward your room. ‘I can’t go in there.’ His voice was quiet. ‘I don’t want to see him like that.’

‘It’s not that bad, you know. He just looks like he’s asleep. A nurse told me I should talk to him, that the sound of my voice would be good for him. It’s weird, though, I can’t think of anything to say. We used to talk all the time, but it’s hard to talk to someone when you know he won’t say anything back.’

I was watching Brian’s face while I was talking about you. He looked a lot like he’d looked in the hallway Friday night - like he was in pain. ‘Maybe tomorrow…?’ He cleared his throat. ‘Listen, I’m on my way out, but I have a favor to ask of you.’

‘You’re going out? To Babylon?‘

Brian nodded. ’Eventually…’

I had a hard time believing this, even of Brian. ‘How can you even think about going out and partying when Justin is in there--‘

‘I *know* where Justin is. It won’t help him for me to stay at home and go crazy. If our situations were reversed, I’d want him to go out and blow off some steam.’ He looked down, as if he was asking me to understand. ‘That’s all I’m doing, Daphne, just blowing off a little steam.’

I still didn’t like the idea of Brian going out when you couldn’t, but I didn’t want to belabor the point, so I changed the subject. ‘You wanted to ask a favor?’

‘Yeah. Could you call me if there’s any change? Day or night, if you hear anything…’

‘Why are you asking me? Justin’s mom--‘

‘Has enough to think about, without having to talk to me. You’re Justin’s best friend, Daphne. Will you please call me if anything happens?’

I paused for a few seconds, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to say no to Brian, just like I can never say no to you. ‘I don’t have your number.’

He fished a card out of the back pocket of his black jeans. ‘Here’s my home number - my *unlisted* home number - and my cell phone number. Try the cell first. If there’s no answer, call my apartment and leave a message on my machine.’ By this time, we were out of the elevator and walking out the front door of the hospital. Brian’s Jeep was parked close to my car and we continued walking together. ‘Will you do that for me, Daphne? Please?’

I never thought I’d hear Brian say ‘please’ to me. ‘I’ll do it… on one condition…’

He immediately looked suspicious. ‘Condition? What condition?’

I turned and leaned against my car, then looked up at him. ‘Promise that you’ll be there for Justin when he wakes up.’ Brian turned around and I thought he was going to walk to his Jeep and leave. ‘Justin loves you, Brian,’ I called after him. ‘He needs you.’

Brian was standing sideways; I could see the outline of his profile in the parking lot lights. ‘What can I do possibly do for him?’

‘He believes that you love him, despite everything you’ve said and done. The best medicine he could get would be for you to show him he’s right.’

He turned back to face me, but looked down. ‘I can’t make that promise.’

‘Why can’t you?’ Despite the fact that he still wasn’t looking at me, I could see his face clearly. He looked afraid. ‘And don’t even try to tell me that you *don’t* love him, ‘cause I wouldn’t believe you…’

He shook his head. ‘No, I won’t tell you that, but I can’t be there for him. I can’t be the one he depends on…’

‘Why not?’ I was raising my voice again, but I couldn’t seem to control myself. ‘He worships you, Brian. You’re the single most important person in his life. Don’t you know that?’

‘Yeah.’ He finally looked up me. ‘I know it, but I can’t help him.’ He took a step toward me, so that he was standing directly in front of me. ‘Justin doesn’t deserve me - he deserves someone who can show him the love and affection he needs, someone who’ll sit by his bed and hold his hand and tell him how special he is. I’m just not that person.’

Brian sounded so sad; I almost felt sorry for him. ‘But you could be, you know. I think you love him, Brian. All you have to do is tell him - I think it would make all the difference in the world.’

‘Daphne,’ he stared into my eyes, his face expressionless. ‘I don’t want to get into another argument with you.’ He fished his car keys out of his pocket, then turned to leave.

‘Brian?’ He paused again, looking back at me. ‘I promise to call you if I hear anything. Would you please think about what I said? Justin’s going to need everyone’s help and support when he wakes up, especially yours.’

Brian smiled, then took a step forward and kissed me on the top of the head. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"

I was in the waiting room Sunday afternoon when I Brian walked in and sat down beside me. He asked if there was any news and I told him that you were continuing to improve. ‘Do you think it would be all right if I went in to see him for a minute?’

I really wanted to jump up and down, but I didn’t. Brian was trying to keep this low-key. ‘Sure. Do you want me to go in and tell his mom?’

‘I-I want to talk to her - if that’s okay, after I see… *him*.’

Standing, I motioned for him to follow me.

Your mom was talking to the nurse when I stuck my head in the door. I told her that Brian wanted to see you, and would she mind if he could be alone with you. They finished their conversation, then she opened the door and came out into the hall. Brian walked past her without saying anything and went inside. I told her that Brian wanted to talk to her, but that he was really nervous about it because he thought he was to blame for you getting hurt. She smiled and said that she understood and that she wanted to talk to him too.

We were still talking when Brian came out of your room, about ten minutes after he went in. His face was expressionless, but his eyes were bright, as if he might have been close to tears. I have no idea what he said to you, if he said *anything*, or what he did. He walked up to where we were standing and your mother hugged him. He had a funny look on his face while he was being hugged, but he didn’t resist. When they started talking, I smiled at them, then walked back toward the waiting room.

And that’s the story of why, whenever Brian comes in, he comes over and sits down next to me. I think he’s more comfortable talking about you with me than with anyone else. He’s having a really hard time with all of this, but he’s here most of the time when he’s not working, and he’s trying, Justin. He’s really trying.

Wednesday morning, very early.

And I *do* mean early, Justin; it’s not even eight am yet. Your mother called me, about an hour ago, to tell me that you’re waking up. I don’t know why, but I had this idea that your eyelids would flutter open, then you’d look up and say something inane like, ‘Where am I?’ I’ve watched too much bad TV, I guess. Your mom said you were responding to ‘outside stimuli’, which meant that you’d probably be awake sometime in the next hour or so.

Anyway, when I got here, your mom was here, and Debbie; the others came in one at a time. I called Brian before I left home: I think he was still asleep, but he said he’d be here. He came in right behind me, still looking tousled, like he hadn’t even stopped to take a shower before he left home.

So, here I am again, in the waiting room. Brian has gone down the hall to see if the doctors are through examining you, so we can go in to see you. I have to tell you that I’m a little nervous about this. We’ve finally arrived at the moment we’ve been waiting for since Friday night. I know you’re going to be okay - you just *have* to be - but the doctors have already told your mom that it might take a while before you can go home. She’s told us all that we have to be patient--

Brian just appeared in the doorway, motioning for me to follow him. ‘Justin’s awake, Daphne. I told him you were down here and he wants to see you.’

‘Is he…?’ I was almost afraid to ask the question.

Brian’s face was luminous. ‘He’s going to be okay. We’ll all be here for him, won’t we?’

‘Yes,’ I stood up. ‘We will.’

Now, it’s time for me to end this letter. I think I finally understand why Ms. Nessler urged me to write it - it *has* made the time pass quicker, and I’ve said some things to you here that I might not be able to say to your face. I can stop writing because I can talk to you now, even though you’re still in and out of consciousness, and I’ll probably tell you everything that happened… eventually.

My only goal is to help you get better so you can go home, or back to Debbie’s, or wherever. All of us are here for you, even Brian. I know he loves you, even though he’d never say it, maybe not even to you. I can just tell. I think of him as my friend now, just like Emmett and Debbie and Lindsay and Melanie. And you.

I’m looking forward to the time when we can hang out together again. We still haven’t seen the Tomb Raider movie or checked out the French Impressionists’ exhibit at the art museum or eaten at the new Italian restaurant downtown. Both Brian and Emmett told me I was welcome to come out to Babylon as soon as you’re feeling up to going out again; I’m already looking forward to that.

Everything’s going to be okay - I just know it.

Welcome back.

Your best friend forever,

Daphne