16. The Seizure
The Seizure
Claire pushed her computer back and stretched her back while flexing her fingers.
The office was quiet at this time of night.
Between the Thanksgiving holiday last week and an unexpected technical glitch with the MADS licensing, they'd just gotten access to the new module this afternoon.
When Noah asked if she was up for working late, she'd agreed.
She giggled at the memory of their rough beginning earlier that evening. They'd agreed that he'd read off the site list while she typed everything up. Since the spreadsheet had already been open on his laptop, Noah had slid it over to her.
"What the hell have you typed?" he'd asked after several minutes. "We spent all last year eliminating quotation marks. Why are you adding them back in?"
They'd both studied the screen and found several glaring typos.
Quote marks (") and British pound signs (￡) littered her notes where there were supposed to be at symbols (@) and hashtags (#).
Upon further inspection, they'd discovered his UK keyboard differed from her US keyboard. The keys she’d tapped from muscle memory had produced entirely different characters.
They'd shared a good laugh at the nonsense she'd typed, then swapped computers and quickly found their flow.
Claire jumped at the thunk of a water bottle on the table. Her heart raced at the fright. Noah had stepped away earlier for a "bio break" and now sat down beside her with his own water bottle.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I was thirsty and thought you might be as well."
She smiled at his thoughtfulness. "Thanks, I am.
I don't think I've hydrated properly today.
" She watched him while she sipped. His normally neat hair was mussed from running his fingers through it, and the temptation to straighten it had her gripping her bottle tightly.
That, combined with the five o'clock shadow he was sporting, made her insides all squirmy and nervous.
He guzzled the last of his water, crumpled the bottle, and chunked it at the recycling bin. When it sailed easily into the blue container, satisfaction covered his face. His little boy joy at making a basket warmed her heart.
"Ready to get back to it?" he asked. "I think we're almost finished."
"Yep. I'm thinking we can whip through these last few countries in half an hour. Yeah?" She pulled her laptop toward her and wiggled her fingers.
"Sounds good."
Noah pulled the site list back over as Claire found her spot in the spreadsheet and positioned her hands on the keyboard. She typed as Noah read the new code for the site, following their previously established rules.
His voice faded to the background, and her vision narrowed as if she were looking down a tunnel.
"Oh no," she whispered as the room tilted.
"Claire?" Noah's question came from far away.
Claire tried to push herself back and get down on the floor, but could feel the world slipping away. Her last thought before everything went black was to wonder if she made it to the floor in time.
Claire floated slowly toward consciousness.
She didn't want to surface and fought against awakening.
The warmth wrapped around her like a snug blanket and the overwhelming sense of safety encompassing her was too appealing to let go.
As she drifted closer to awareness, she felt like she was coming out of a long, sustained sleep.
And she wanted nothing more than to slip back into it.
Her hearing was the first sense to return. Someone was softly chanting a mantra over and over.
"It's okay. I've got you. It's okay. I've got you."
Claire pried open her eyelids. Her surroundings—blurry at first—slowly came into focus. Golden-brown eyes flecked with green stared back at her. Worry carved lines into his brow.
"Are you back?" Noah's voice cracked slightly, like he'd been holding his breath for too long.
What happened? Where are we? Why is he… Noah… holding me? Claire struggled to navigate the confusion in her mind.
"You had a seizure," he said gently. "We were working late, and you had a seizure."
Yes, she thought. This is familiar.
Noah shifted, starting to rise and a wave of nausea rose in her stomach.
"W-wait!" Claire struggled to get the word out.
He froze instantly. Her thoughts were sluggish, and she labored to form a coherent explanation for him.
"The room… still s-spinning," she managed. "Can we just… stay put for a minute? Don't wanna… barf. Shouldn't take long."
"Uh, sure." He eased back down, his movements careful.
While she waited for her stomach to calm, Claire took stock of her body, wiggling her fingers and toes, looking for injuries. Noah held her tight, his arms locked around her, her head cradled in the crook of his elbow. Like he held something fragile.
Her face flushed with heat. The closeness. The care. The way he was looking at her like she might break.
She watched his brow furrow and heard an odd noise in his throat.
"You scared the shit out of me, Claire. When I realized what was happening, I tried to remember what we learned in the safety meeting.
I protected your head, but the convulsions…
This floor is hard, and I didn't want you to hurt yourself, so I tried to protect the rest of you, too.
" His voice trailed off. "I hope it's okay. "
Claire moved cautiously. The room was no longer spinning, and her stomach was solid once again, but her limbs were still sluggish, like they were moving through molasses. The thought of Noah trying to protect her warmed her insides.
"I'm good now. I can sit up." Her voice came out raspy, barely above a whisper.
Noah shifted aside and gently helped her sit upright. "You need water?"
She nodded gently, alert for any aftereffects. "That'd be great."
He retrieved the abandoned plastic bottle and handed it to her before settling back beside her. She took a sip, the coolness grounding her.
"How long was I out?"
"Not long. Less than a minute?"
"It always feels like forever to me. Like I've been asleep for days." She stared at the floor, afraid to look at him. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry I scared you." Her face heated, and she turned away.
His arm came around her, pulling her into a side hug. "Hush now. You don't owe me an apology. I'm just glad I was here, and you weren't alone."
They sat in silence for a few minutes.
"What now?" Noah asked.
Claire sighed. "Now, I have to call my neurologist and tell him so he can decide if my medication needs adjusting." She paused at his confused look. "Oh, wait. That's not what you meant, was it? Um, I'm ready to stand up, I think."
Noah climbed to his feet and assisted her. She gripped his arm tightly, making sure she wasn't about to fall over. Once her legs stabilized and gravity was again working as expected, she let go. She was okay. Exhausted and drained, but otherwise okay.
"Um, I'm usually pretty wiped out after an episode. I-I don't think I'll be able to finish the site list tonight. I just need to go home and sleep."
"The sites can wait. Let's gather your things, and I'll drive you home."
"What? No, that's not necessary. I can take the bus." Embarrassing enough that she'd seized in front of him, but to be completely dependent upon him to get home? That was too much.
"No arguments, Claire. You look like you've been through the wringer. I wouldn't feel right putting you on a city bus when you're too tired to walk. I'll drive you home."
Claire's shoulders sagged. He was right. She was exhausted and couldn't imagine catching the bus now.
"Thanks, Noah," she said quietly.
Noah bundled Claire into the passenger seat of his rental car and closed the door with care. As he slid into the driver's side, a persistent ding chastised him. He scanned the console for the problem. Seeing the familiar indicator, he glanced at his passenger.
Claire sat motionless, staring blankly through the windshield like she wasn't really seeing anything at all.
"Claire, honey, you have to put on your seat belt."
She startled, like she'd forgotten he was there. "Oh, right." Her voice was faint, unfocused. She reached over her shoulder and blindly fumbling for the belt without looking, like her body was moving on autopilot while her mind lagged behind.
Noah leaned over and pulled the belt across her body, snapping it into place. She was so out of it, she didn't flinch from his nearness as she normally did. He thumbed through his phone's history and found her address from the Thanksgiving party, then plugged it into his GPs.
"You know my address," she whispered.
"Yes, silly. Because I went to your place for Thanksgiving, remember?" he smiled.
"Oh, yeah."
She didn't speak again until they were out of the parking garage and on their way. He glanced her way a couple of times, checking on her. She usually radiated such positive energy, that the withdrawn, slumped figure in his passenger seat felt very wrong.
"It's so empty tonight," she said.
Noah pulled to a stop at a light and looked over. "Downtown, you mean?"
"Yeah. I usually leave early enough to catch the bus. It's normally so vibrant. So much energy. I've never seen it so empty."
Much like her, he mused. The aftermath of the seizure seemed to have left her smaller… faded.
"What about tonight?" he asked, wondering how she'd planned to get home.
"Hmm?" She craned her neck to look at the tall building on the street corner.
"Claire." Noah caught her attention again. "How were you planning to get home tonight with us working late on the site list?"
He watched her eyes grow big. "Oh, no! Oh, phooey fiddlesticks!"
Noah burst out laughing at her attempt to curse. "What is it?" He hit another red light and stopped. You'd think the lights would be more in sync than this. He glanced at her, waiting to hear what upset her.