When I enter the guest room, Rama’s just a shape in the dark room.
“Rama, I brought you some dinner,” I say quietly, setting the tray on the nightstand. He stares straightahead.
Reaching out, I touch his arm. “Rama. Are you okay? Should I take you to the hospital?”
Alex appears at the door. “What’s the matter?”
“Look at him.”
Coming to sit on the bed, Alex gently shakes Rama’s shoulder. “Rama? Can you hear me?”
Rama blinks and his face crumples.
Alarmed, I look at Alex. “Do you think we should take him to the hospital?”
“I think he’s just emotionally drained. He needs a good night’s sleep. Leave the tray in case he feels better in a while and wants to eat.”
Back in the kitchen, I begin cleaning up. When Alex joins me, I ask, “Should I call Uncle Korn? Or Chinda?”
“No. I got him to take the Tylenol. I’m sure he’ll be better in the morning. Besides, they’ll only worry, and there’s nothing they can do.”
We finish straightening the kitchen and when I peer into Rama’s room before bed, he’s asleep.
The next morning, Rama’s pale and his eyes are red and puffy.
“How do you feel?” I ask gently.
Rama’s eyes move from my face to the ceiling, but he doesn’t answer.
“Rama, you’re scaring me. If you don’t snap out of it, I’m going to have to call an ambulance.”
When I move toward the door, he says, “Don’t. I’m…okay.”
“Prove it to us by eating,” Alex says, bringing in a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.
He allows us to help him to sit up against the pillows. Slowly, as though in a trance, he takes the fork from my hand and takes a bite of eggs.
“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” I ask. “Have you just worn yourself out?”
Rama shakes his head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Please.”
A muffled ringing comes from his pocket, but Rama makes no move to pull out his phone. When I do it for him, he closes his eyes and rests his head back on the pillow.
“Do you want me to answer this?” I ask him. When he doesn’t say anything, I look at the screen.
“Hey, Pravat, this is Pete.” I watch Rama’s face. He doesn’t show any sign that he’s listening.
“Hi, Pete. Is Rama busy? I wanted to wish him a happy birthday before he heads for work.”
Quietly, I leave the room. “Damn, I completely forgot it’s his birthday. Uh, he’s in bed.”
“Is he sick?” Pravat sounds concerned. “I thought he’d be at work.”
“I think he is sick, yes. He’s been working much too hard.”
“I was afraid that would happen,” Pravat says.
“He’s pretty out-of-it, but maybe after resting today he’ll feel better. I’ve taken the day off, so I’ll be here with him.”