We spent most of the morning sobbing and cursing our fates and then we visited him – his body.
"Wow, you look like you are going to wake up any moment now, and start walking and talking," I couldn't help exclaiming, looking at his well-maintained body.
"Yes, my mother doesn't like me in hospital clothes." I recognized custom-tailoring when I saw it.
"So, who else visits you?" I changed the topic.
"My father visits weekly, because he finds it too difficult to see me like this every day."
My heart turned over at this. Which parent could bear to see his child like this?
"No friends?" I prodded further.
He gave a rueful smile.
"The only thing that this coma has given me is an understanding of who my real friends are. You wouldn't believe people have come in and cursed me for the crash – you know why? Because they can't have fun anymore and miss the free booze that I provided earlier."
His words didn't surprise me; I had researched him thoroughly during my assignment on his father.
"And so many girls have come in and spoken how I was good, you know in… and how they are 'fake' sorry and how they will 'fake' miss me," I had heard this too but I really enjoyed the way he quoted the word 'fake'.
"So, you have been with many women. And on both sides no one was ever serious?" I asked gingerly.
"Yeah, I was never…" he replied casually.
"Hey, you don't have to be proud of it," I scolded.
He grinned, chastised. "I am honestly not. These three months have been an eye-opening experience for me. There were, in fact, two very nice girls who loved but I never cared about them after that first night."
I couldn't help but be slightly judgmental about his casual ways.
"But I am a changed man now," he finished off.
"Well it won't matter. You would wake up and forget everything you have learnt here and will be back to the mean, selfish playboy," I snapped, and ignored his hurt expression.
"I know I will remember this," he murmured, more to convince himself and I just sighed!