12. Hudson
Hudson wokeup to the sound of someone crying. It took him a minute to process that it was an actual person, and not just the sound of someone on a TV.
There was only one other person in this apartment.
He slid out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and grabbed his phone, just in case something was wrong.
The door to the bathroom was halfway open, and Alana was curled up in the bathtub with a small puddle of blood on the bathmat, looking like she had passed out there.
Hudson couldn’t breathe. “Alana!” he yelled, running in. If something happened to her, he wouldn’t know what he would do with himself.
There was a muffled groan.
He sank down next to her. “Where are you hurt?” he asked frantically, trying to move the towels so he could tell. “Did someone hurt you?”
“I’m…okay.”
“No you’re not.” She was ghost-pale and entirely naked, covered by bath towels. Her phone was sitting closed on the edge of the sink, and the bathtub had the smallest amount of water pooling on the bottom.
“Shh.” Alana reached for him. “Shh.”
“I’m calling an ambulance,” Hudson said, panicked. “You look like you’re dying.”
“Didn’t…faint…this…time.”
This time?
Was this normal?
“That does not make me feel better,” he gritted.
Alana panted, reaching for his hand.
He closed his fingers around hers, trying to regulate his breathing while also desperately trying to figure out what was going on.
And then she squeezed.
Fuck, but did she have a tight grip. “Sorry,” she panted.
“It’s okay.” He used his free hand to brush her hair out of her face. “I mean, it’s not. At all. But we’ll figure it out.”
Alana nodded, squeezing her eyes shut, tears still slowly falling.
Hudson sat there, crouched, feeling hopeless and useless.
Five endless minutes later, Alana’s grip on his hand loosened. “Sorry about that,” she whispered, eyes still closed. “I realized when I woke up that I forgot to send you the endo list.”
“This is endometriosis?” Holy hell. This was so much worse than he had thought.
Alana nodded, eyes still closed. “My bathrobe isn”t in here, is it?”
“No, baby. Just the towels you’re currently using as a blanket.”
“I’ll be fine in a minute,” Alana replied, very obviously lying.
“There is a puddle of blood on the floor next to you,” Hudson gritted. “What part of that is fine?”
“I’ll clean it later, I’m really sorry.”
“Are you…” Hudson blinked slowly. “No. Absolutely not. You look like you’re dying. You’re not cleaning anything.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
Maybe she was feeling a little better. The tears had slowed down. Hudson sent a quick text to his mom, asking her what he was supposed to do. If Alana was playing martyr and actually did need the hospital, he was going to be calling one, goddammit.
There was no way that someone in this kind of pain should just be at home.
Alana stayed where she was on the bathroom rug, humming softly to herself, still holding Hudson’s hand.
His mom texted back, almost immediately.
‘She’ll know best if she needs to go to the hospital. If she says no, she’s fine. Make sure she eats and drinks. If she faints more than once, take her in. Also, when everyone’s in the clear, Favorite Youngest Son, you’re going to give me a life update, since last I heard, you were living with JP.’
More than once?
And damn. He did have to update his mom.
“Do you have any painkillers I can get you?”
“Have a patch.” Alana gestured. “Can you do me a favor? I forgot to bring my clothing into the bathroom. They’re on a pile on the edge of my bed.”
“Let me take you to your room.”
“Got to wash the blood off first.”
“And then maybe faint and hit your head on the faucet and drown? No. You are not dying on me, Alana Bruckner.”
“Not dying. Just cursing my uterus.”
“Do not fucking move.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
“This is not the time for the SpongeBob theme song.” Hudson glared.
“It always is,” Alana said.
“Don’t. Move.” Hudson instructed again, and dashed to her bedroom to grab her pile of clothing.
Luckily, Alana had not moved from her spot when he got back to the bathroom.
“Clothing,” he said, piling it on the edge of the sink. “Do you need help standing?”
“Uh. Maybe? Not sure how we’re going to do this without me flashing you.”
“I won’t look,” Hudson promised.
Alana mumbled something about him having more self-discipline than she did, but he had no idea what she meant by that.
Hudson reached to turn on the shower first, testing it until the water was a little hotter than he preferred, which, considering the condensation that still fogged the bathroom mirror, was probably how Alana liked hers.
“Ready?” he asked, crouching back down to help her up.
“As I’ll ever be.” Alana struggled to stand up. She looked terrible, and his heart broke for her. Deep bruises shadowed her eyes, but at least she wasn’t nearly as shockingly pale as she had been when he first found her.
He gently lifted her to her feet and helped her into the shower.
“You can go now, really.”
Hudson scoffed. “No.”
“I’m fine.”
“You were crumpled on the floor with a puddle of blood, Alana. I’m not leaving you alone.”
She mumbled something about overbearing men, but he wasn’t taking the bait. They could have a full knock-the-house down fight later when he wasn’t terrified for her.
The shower curtain firmly closed and Alana started rinsing herself off. Hudson found cleaning supplies and made quick work of the bathroom. “You can go now.”
“Don’t lock the door,” Hudson said, walking out of the bathroom.
“You nag.”
“You’re sick,” he replied. “I’m allowed to nag.”
Was he going to contemplate how he didn’t nag when JP was sick? No. But also, JP being sick did not involve him casually mentioning how this time he wasn’t going to the hospital.
It was a good thing he was now on Alana’s superior health insurance. He needed someone to check his blood pressure. This shit could not possibly be normal.
His phone rang. His mom. He should have known. “I have a few minutes left during my break,” she said. “And your text was missing some information.”
“I was panicking.”
“And you probably still are. She has endometriosis?”
“Uh-huh.”
His mother tsked. “That’s a hell of a thing to have to deal with. And if she has a diagnosis, that means she’s probably been dealing with this for years.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because it takes a lot for someone to actually get a diagnosis. Where is she now?”
“Rinsing off in the shower, and then I’m going to carry her back to her bed.”
His mom laughed. “Good plan, Prince Charming. Now. She knows what she needs, honey. But if things start looking uglier, you can always text me. There are a few moms in labor, so if I don’t answer if you call, call Nora. She’s on call, too. You have her number?”
“Two different ones, and the front desk number.”
“Good. Angelina’s at the front desk, and Shane is on call, so if one of us needs to flag him down, we can.”
Hudson let out a long sigh. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Anytime. Let me know how she’s doing later. I’ll worry. And I’m going to be in the neighborhood at the end of the week, so I’ll swing by and check on you both. Let me know if you need me to bring anything.”
“Will do. Love you.”
“Love you, honey.”
Hudson dropped the phone on Alana’s bed and tried to regulate his breathing. His mom had been a nurse since before he was born, and while it had come in handy before, never had he felt more thankful that his mom worked in labor and delivery. If there was any section in the hospital that was going to know what to do with Alana, it was his mom and her coworkers.
And his high school ex, who apparently was on call in the ward.
If he wasn’t still panicking, he would have found it hilarious. There would be time for that later.
A few endless minutes later, the shower turned off, and Hudson was waiting for Alana when the bathroom door opened.
“Were you standing there the whole time with your ear to the door?” Alana demanded.
“No.”
“I mean, I don’t believe you, but whatever.” Alana sighed. “Is there a reason you’re standing here?”
“Do you want me to carry you to your bed?”
Alana laughed. “Are you for serious?”
“Yes?”
“I mean, as long as you promise me that you can actually carry me and aren’t just trying to be macho and then end up pulling muscles in your back.”
“I have enough that’s fucked up with my body,” Hudson said. “I only take calculated risks.”
“Wow. A calculated risk. I have never felt sexier.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” Hudson reached toward her, and, as gently as he could, picked her up.
“You don’t have to look like I’m dying,” Alana said as Hudson began to walk toward her bedroom. “From experience, I can tell you that I’m not.”
“Fucking hell,” Hudson mumbled as they reached her bed. “Please lie down, you’re stressing me out.”
“I feel like a fairy princess,” Alana said as she eased herself onto her bed. “Oh, damn. I forgot my meds. Again.”
“Where are they?”
There was a long pause. “You don’t have to get them. It’s fine.”
Hudson closed his eyes and wished for patience. “Who’s going to, then? A singing rat? A singing roach? A singing pigeon? A singing squirrel?”
“Why are all the New York City creatures singing?” Her skin was bleach-white, and Hudson resisted the urge to call his mom again.
“I don’t know, I’m not the Disney Princess in this situation.”
“Disney Princesses don’t have purple hair, and I don’t think any of them take the pain medication that I do.”
“And where do you keep said pain medication?” Hudson asked.
Alana looked conflicted.
Hudson went to sit down at the edge of her bed and took one of her hands. “Alana,” he said softly. “Sweetheart. I literally do not give a single solitary shit what kind of pain medication you have to take. I do not care where you got it from. I do not care how legal or illegal it is. Just tell me where it is, and I will get it for you. But if it is something illegal, we’re going to have a chat about making sure it’s not laced with anything bad, and I’m gonna have to run and get my Narcan pen before I get you your stuff. Okay?”
Alana began to cry again, which had not been his intention. “Oh, honey,” he crooned, gathering her up in his arms. “I’m sorry.” What part had made her cry? Was it him, or was it just the pain?
She clung to him, and sobbed, and Hudson held her, stroking her hair and her back and telling her over and over again that it would be okay, even though he had no way of proving that it would.
After a few moments, she sniffled and looked up. “I snotted on you by mistake,” she said.
Hudson cracked a grin. “That’s why tissues were invented.” He reached for the box on her nightstand and grabbed a few. “Do you feel any better now?”
He wiped his chest, and then her face. “And you still haven’t told me where your pain meds are. That first, and then you can tell me what happened.”
Alana pointed to the pills, and then to the TENS unit. Hudson brought them both over to the bed.
Alana dry swallowed the pills, and lay back among her four thousand pillows, looking exhausted. “I don’t like going to the hospital anymore,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. “Even though I have a diagnosis and everything. Half the time the people there just think I’m coming in to try to get an opiate prescription. Last time I was there, instead of hooking me up to an IV and trying to get my pain under control, they sent in a drug counselor.”
The rage that coursed through Hudson’s body was unlike anything he had ever felt. “When you’re feeling better, we’ll go burn down the hospital?”
Alana sighed. “Mostly just the attending who thought his shit didn’t stink. We can beat him up. I’ll put on my stompy-est heels.”
“And I will cheer you on.” Hudson brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “I’m going to get you one of the electrolyte drinks in the fridge. Don’t get out of bed.”
“I’m sorry for being such a bother.”
“We can have a discussion about the fact that you think you should be apologizing to me because you’re hurting at a time when you don’t look like you’re going to pass out any minute.”
“With the eyeliner of truth?”
“Whatever color eyeliner you want,” Hudson agreed.
“I feel drunk with power.” Alana blinked up at him. “Or maybe it’s the drugs.”
“Maybe.”
The next three and a half days were some of the most stressful of Hudson’s life. If it hadn’t been for the frequent texts and phone calls with his mom, he didn’t know what he would have done. He had known Alana for nearly three years, and the difference between who she normally was versus who she was while her period ripped through her were terrifyingly different.
There were still bits of her personality that would peep through, and by the time the fourth day rolled around, Hudson felt like he had gone through a war.
Alana, on the other hand, looked like nothing had happened to her at all, and it had all been some sort of horrifying fever dream. Hell, she had worked from home the day before, and Hudson had spent eight hours alternating between trying not to lecture her about working before her body was ready (and failing), hovering in case something happened, and sulking in the corner of her room, pretending to make art but mostly just worrying about her. “You’re looking a little stressy,” she said cheerfully on the fourth morning. “Maybe you should go lie down or something. I can make you soup.”
“I spent eight hours worrying that you were dead.”
Alana blinked. “Shouldn’t you have been sleeping?”
“Probably.” He had tried. He had been camping out on the floor of her bedroom, just in case she woke up in the middle of the night and needed something. All of the floor sleeping probably wasn’t great for his back, but not being able to hear her deep, even breaths during the night would have been much worse for his mental health.
It was a good thing he had therapy today. He had a lot he was going to have to talk about.
Mainly. How did one handle having someone they loved so much be in so much pain?
Loved.
Hudson staggered to a metaphorical halt.
Of course he loved her. Of course he did. And he was going to do whatever it took for her doctor to give her a referral. And if that doctor said no, he was going to have Shane write up a list of every competent medical professional who was able to make the referral she needed. He was going to go to every single one of them until someone listened.
And then he was going to hold her hand through the surgery and the recovery. When she was healed, and the doctors swore on their medical degrees and remaining student loans that she would never go through that kind of pain ever again, he was going to divorce her and let her live the best life she could possibly have.
Another question for his therapist.
How did one go about breaking one’s own heart?
“Hudson?”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve been staring at me for a slightly uncomfortable amount of time.”
Hudson startled. “Sorry. My bad.”
Alana peered over at him. “Hubby.” She giggled. “Barf. Never mind. Husband. Man friend. Roommate. Emergency Contact. Pal. Go and take a shower and then take a nap. You look terrible.”
“I appreciate the compliment.”
“You look terrible in a very sexy sort of way?” Alana tried.
“Wowww. I have never felt more desirable in my life.” She was giving him shit again, and honestly, he wanted to cry a little in relief. But he wouldn’t, because that would weird her out.
“Well, considering that we passed what normal people would consider TMI around four days ago, I can tell you that you are still disgustingly attractive, and in your current state you would attract all the people who really have a thing for men they can fix.”
“And in the spirit of us passing TMI a while back, I’m both flattered and horrified by that description.” Was he going to overthink the ‘you are still disgustingly attractive’ for the next forever? Yes. Without a question.
“That is what I’m here for,” she said cheerfully.
“And aren’t we blessed to experience it,” Hudson said, and yawned. “It’s just…” he paused. “You were hurting so much, Lana.”
“And now I’m just hurting an almost regular amount. Which is great, because we have to bleach this whole apartment for your mom’s visit.”
He’d mentioned it to her yesterday, and she had laughed at him and called him a mama’s boy. He hadn’t corrected her, and he also hadn’t told her that he had been texting her repeatedly, making sure Alana was okay.
“We really don’t. It’s not like we’re a hospital or anything.”
Alana looked at him with what he could only describe as exasperated pity. “Your mom can’t come into this apartment with it looking like this!”
“Like you were sick?”
“Well, yeah, but I’m not anymore.”
“That’s debatable.”
“And we can debate it later,” she said firmly. “Go take a nap, Hudson. You’re wobbling.”
“Don’t let me sleep too long. I have a telehealth at three.”
“I’ll text you. I’m going into work.”
Hudson was suddenly wide awake again. “What do you mean, you’re going into work?”
Alana paused, halfway out of bed. “Well, we live in a society that’s run by capitalism, and I cannot pay my rent on vibes alone.”
“Can’t you work from home?”
“I already did that yesterday.”
(And hadn’t that been an argument that Hudson thoroughly lost.)
“So you, after going through three days of literally the worst pain I have ever seen a human being endure, are going to get dressed and go to work? For like, eight hours? And I’m going to stay home and nap?”
“Irony’s cute, isn’t she?” Alana said, actually climbing out of bed this time. “I’ll be fine. The worst is over.”
“You literally were using the TENS unit forty minutes ago.”
“And I didn’t even throw up once.” Alana headed for the bathroom. “I’ll take it easy at work, Hudson. I promise. It’s not like I do any manual labor. It’s mostly just me sitting in a chair, having meetings in my chair, and writing emails. Still in my chair.”
“Do you have things at work?”
“Yes, honey, I have things at work.” Alana padded back toward him, reached up, and kissed him on the cheek. “I feel bad I didn’t fully warn you about all this before. I thought I had more time.”
Hudson wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He rested his head on hers and sighed. “I just don’t want you to hurt.”
Alana pressed a kiss on his chest. “I know. But I’ve managed before. I can manage again.”
“Just because you can handle something,” Hudson said, quoting not only his therapist but also the plethora of doctors he had been to over the course of his life, “doesn’t mean you should.” He kissed her head. “I trust that you know your limits, but I’m still going to worry.”
“Fair enough,” Alana said. “Because I trust that you will only worry a little bit, and you won’t let this change things.” She paused, the next words coming out small and quiet. “I really don’t want them to change anything.”
Hudson leaned back a little so he could meet Alana’s gaze. “As soon as you’re ready,” he said, “I’m going to have you schlep all the Patreon mail to the post office by yourself.”
“You’re a butthead.”
He grinned. “Thanks, pal. You’re not so terrible yourself.”