Dear Diary:

Dear Journal To who the fuck it concerns:

Is Lolly gonna care if I use her diary? Nah, probably not. She’s got like, four more of them stuffed away somewhere in her room.

I guess I just need to vent to something. The Boss is too busy trying to get all the legal and medical stuff in order, and Shark…well, he’s kind of the reason I’m writing here in the first place.

For whatever reason, Shark’s been rather…stubborn. Stubborn for lack of a better term.

How else do you describe someone that’s acting the way he is? The doc said it’ll probably be at least a week or more before he’s allowed to leave.

The first day or so, they had to keep an eye on him. After that, he kept insisting he was well enough to leave.

When they brought it up, he had one hell of a tantrum. I say tantrum, because it was more him just being angry and complaining about having to stay.

It’s pretty obvious his dad didn’t want to see it happening. As soon as Shark started carrying on, he left the room.

Poor dude. When I went to go check on him, he had his eyes covered.

I’m not an idiot. I know what he was trying to hide. But what am I supposed to say? ‘Sorry your grown son’s being childish’?

Yeah, like that’s gonna help.

…

Dear Journal

Shark was quiet today. He didn’t really pay much attention to anything we said.

He just seemed weirdly fixed on the television, for whatever reason. Some old movie was starting when we visited. The most talking he did was at the start of the movie, when that damn song started playing.

My guess is he wanted to take a walk outside himself. He watched it for about fifteen minutes, then changed the channel.

Then he watched some random cartoons. Then he grumbled about something and turned the TV off.

Weird. He usually watches anything. Now he won’t watch anything at all.

He probably just misses Netflix, is all.

…

Dear Journal:

Somehow we haven’t gotten in trouble for being in Racket Mansion. From what I heard, Marigold thought the gophers were staging a revolt.

Sounds like something she’d say. I honestly wonder how she’s not been sent to some place that can help.

Oh, wait. These are the Rackets. Never mind.

The grandparents actually did try to visit Shark earlier today. He told the nurse he didn’t want to see them. They kept insisting, and well…

I guess for now they’re banned from the hospital, except in cases of emergency. The Boss made sure they didn’t try contacting him in other ways, either.

…

Dear Journal:   <-Okay, seriously? Do all these damn pages start with this?

I thought about doing it, today. Mostly because I thought maybe Shark needed something to cheer him up.

Hell, I just about brought the box with me into the hospital. It’s plausible, right?

Something told me not to do it. I tried imagining his reaction when he saw it, but it wasn’t a good one.

At best, he’d probably just scoff and ask if I were pulling a cruel prank on him.

Who knows, maybe I’m wrong, maybe he’d have said yes. But now’s probably not a good time to think about proposing anyway.

Like, ‘Yeah, sorry your mom stabbed you. Oh, by the way, will you marry me?’

I’m not that dense.

…

Dear Journal:

Shark wanted me to sneak him something from work. I told him, ‘hell no, I’d rather not get us in trouble’.

Then that escalated. I get it, man. You hate hospital food. No reason to start a fight with me over it.

Our first actual fight. We’ve had disagreements before, but they were usually done and over with pretty quick. This, though?

It actually hurt. Yeah, yeah, Sinbad Rotter can feel emotions. Nothing new about that.

Arguments are painful. They’re even more painful when they’re with someone you care about.

He just told me to get out of the room and go home. I didn’t even bother telling his dad what happened when I did get back. Rather not have the boss worry about more than he should.

I don’t know. What the hell am I supposed to do if this sort of thing happens again? Do I just say I’m sorry, or give Shark some space, or do I just try to make it up to him in some other way?

What do I do?

…

Dear Journal:  OH COME ON PLAIN NOTEBOOKS COST LESS

The Boss asked why I didn’t go see Shark after work today.

I think the question here isn’t, ‘Why didn’t I visit Shark?’. It’s a little more, ‘Why should I visit someone who yelled at me over something minor?’

My reason, I will admit, was flimsy at best: “Stress at work. I can wait until he gets home, anyway.”

That, and he’d probably still be mad at me.

How am I supposed to make amends at this point? Am I supposed to-

*The rest of this entry is illegible*

…

Dear Journal:

I am admittedly not a true expert in the matters of love and romance. I’ve only been married once before, and that lasted about half the time I’ve been alive.

But an argument over whether or not one can smuggle edible contraband into a hospital room? Here I thought the boy knew better than that.

I’ll have to give him a stern talking-to the next time I see him. I do know that he’s extremely sorry for whatever it was he’s said. He just lays there in bed, asking where Mister Rotter is.

From what I’ve read here, the feeling seems to be mutual. However I have been wrong before.

What was that man trying to accomplish, writing it all in here instead of telling me?

Despite my aforementioned lack of true experience, I do know that talking about it instead of the silent treatment would help.

How is it going to happen, though? Mister Rotter refuses to go see him, and the boy apparently isn’t ready to be discharged yet.

Kids these days. I’ll have to think about what to do. In fact, I should take my own advice, and talk to the both of them.

But I’m only going to talk, and hopefully don’t make things worse by doing so. In the end, it’s up to them to patch things up.

*there aren’t any more entries after this*

(Original Prompt)