Chapter 25 #2
Christian stops short, keeping us a few feet away—though not out of earshot.
I try leaning forward to overhear their conversation and nearly fall flat on my face.
“Oh, Niven, you look stunning. It’s been so long-” My mother stops mid-conversation as I approach, almost kissing the ground one more time before I get to them. “Oh, Evelyn, honey.”
“Evelyn,” Her hug is tight—the love that exists within her embrace seeps to my core. “This is your grandmother… Niven.”
My gaze falls on her gorgeous heterochromatic eyes.
“Hello.” We don’t get much conversation in before the walls start changing colors, triggering a drug-enhanced episode.
I fall into my mother’s arms as Niven runs out the door.
I feel my body being maneuvered like a sack of potatoes as my arm is draped over my mother’s shoulder so she can guide me to the ambulance.
Halfway there, a voice on the wind reaches my ears: familiar, soft, and scared.
Looking up, I scan the horizon—my gaze falling on…
Emory? Her figure is trailing and blurred, so I blink many times trying to clear my vision, blaming my elevated state.
Finally, she comes into view, and she is running at me, her hands outstretched—screaming my name.
I peer down and notice, subconsciously, my body is reacting to this image. I am compelled to start shoving, jabbing, and trying to break free from my mother’s hold. Once she can no longer hold me back, I run to Emory and do not look back. Hands out-stretched—screaming her name.
Am I hallucinating?
Is she really here?
I don’t care.
I must find out.
Our hands nearly touch when a massive, muscular arm yanks me away.
“No!” I shout, kicking and screaming, “It is her. Emory is right there. Please let me go.”
“Evelyn, stop! You are sick.” He carries me with ease. No matter how much I throw myself, nothing throws him off kilter. “Let me get you to the hospital, and I’ll make sure you have a bed right next to her?”
Is he serious?
Did he not see or hear her?
So much was coursing through my brain. Still full of doubt, I try to make sense of what he said, “What are you talking about?” I wrestle with him, trying to pull away, but in my debilitated state, I am no match for a man of his stature.
“We must go now, baby.” The urgency in his tone fades, “Please!” I pass out from overexertion.
Christian
Upon arriving at the hospital, the doctors advise me that it would be faster if I stay back while she is examined.
I comply when I see the state her mother is in—there is no way I am going to leave her worrying by herself.
While the suspense of waiting for the results is torture, the boredom has it beat.
“So,” Her mother finally breaks the silence. “We were unable to get acquainted.”
“My name is Christian, ma’am.”
“Oh, manners,” Raising an eyebrow, as a small smirk crept across her face, “How did you meet my daughter, Christian?”
“In the most unlikely of places,” I chuckle. “Rehab.” The smile fades from her face.
“Oh.” I break the awkward moment by snorting as I fail to hold in my laughter.
She starts with a small giggle that gradually grows into a deep belly laugh—now I know where Evelyn gets it from.
An awkward silence follows the laughter, but before the conversation can get out of hand, the hospital erupts in an endless stream of shouting.
A loud boom caused by the crashing of a crowd of medical workers bombarding the emergency entrance, attracts everyone's attention. One of the doctors runs over and grabs a clipboard from an EMTs. “What do we have?”
“Another T40, Jane Doe.” He calls out over all the other noise, “I swear that’s the fifth victim this week to fentanyl.”
The doctor nods his head, then looks to the female EMT performing chest compressions. “Can you tell me anything else?”
“Estimated mid—30s. One, two, three.” She tries to continue CPR.
“Found unresponsive in a motel room. One, two, three.” She was speaking so fast, but not too fast for me to understand with my prior combat knowledge.
“CPR was initiated upon arrival—alongside two doses of naloxone, they were administered with no response. One, two, three.”
As they rush to get to a room, I try to catch a glimpse of the person’s face.
They said she was a Jane Doe, but that all changes once they make a sharp turn and the patient’s hand slips.
There, bouncing slightly to every pump was a shimmering silver bracelet, with a singular charm.
My heart is ramming against my chest as I try to slow my breathing from the sorrow swelling up like an old sponge in dirty dish water.
"Mrs. Selby-” I try to sound unfazed, “I must go check on something, I shouldn’t be too long, OK.”
She waves to me from her seat in the waiting room, as I place my hands together in prayer and mouth, ‘thank you’. I make it to the room and watch through the small window as the doctor’s muffled voice seeps through the cracks and spaces surrounding the door.
“Patient is unresponsive, still not receiving a pulse.” His voice is calm but assertive, “Get the crash cart!”
“Crash cart on the way.” A slightly shorter nurse responds, “Oxygen mask ready.”
The doctor crosses his hands, one over the other, then, picking up where the EMT left off, he starts his compressions. “One, two, three, four-” His breathing is sharp, forcing their escape with every pump. “Come on, breathe.”
Plastic crinkles as the nurse tears open the sterile packaging and clicks pieces together, just before stretching elastic around the patient's head, “Still no response. Oxygen mask in place. Bagging now.” She twists the medical bag to the mask, which clung to the patient’s face like a face hugger from the “Alien” movies.
“Next dose of naloxone—push it,” the doctor hollers amidst the commotion, calling out orders at the apex of each pump, then he takes a step back while the nurse pushes a clear fluid through an IV.
A clear view opens as everyone steps to the side in preparation for the next step, and that is when my fear becomes reality.
There, lifeless on the hospital bed, is a ghost of my past, her bracelet glinting on a counter behind the doctor—a reminder of a life I left behind.
The doctor then flicks a few switches on a nearby machine, “Charging the defib-” Buzzing fills the air as he rubs the paddles together, spreading the gel that one of the assistant nurses had previously applied, “Clear!”
A high-pitched pinging sound as the machine sends the charge to the pads, followed by a leaden thud as they met with her exposed chest—The shock causing her body to jolt.
All is quiet for a moment, waiting for the monitor to change, but it remains flat.
Then the doctor’s voice breaks the silence, “Resuming compressions-” clasping his hands back together, he is back at it, “We’re running out of time! ”
Bursting through the door, no longer in control of my own actions, “Please save her!” Two nurses are at my side in seconds, their hands on my chest.
“Please, sir,” They start pushing me back, guiding me out of the room. “We need you to leave.”
“Last round of naloxone.” The nurse who has been helping the doctor calls out, “Still no pulse. Rhythm’s systole.”
Before the door closes on me and the two nurses, the doctor makes eye contact with me, a sadness, like a parasite consuming all emotion—he glances at the monitor, then looks around at the rest of his team. “Time of death-”
“Adelaide!” I scream, “No. Try again, Doc, please.” The world slows to a crawl around me. “Adelaide!” My chest is heaving as my body heats up with rage.
I know she is gone—they tried everything.
“Please let me say goodbye.” I look to the doctor with a plea in my eyes. “At least give me that.”
The nurses look to the doctor, who nods in response, “You know our patient?”
“Yes, her name is Adelaide Smith. She was 32 and had the whole world ahead of her.” Tears blur my vision, “I wish I could have saved her. At one point in time, I tried, but I couldn’t even save myself... I. Should have tried. Harder.”
The doctor places a hand on my shoulder, then looks to his staff, “Let's give him five.” He swirls his finger in the air like he is summoning some kind of magic lasso, and they all start to file out of the room, looking back at me, he says, “I am sorry for your loss, and... thank you... for helping us identify her, now we can contact her family.”
With one last pat, he leaves the room. I stare at her, then take in a deep breath and walk to the side of the bed.
“Oh, Adelaide...” A single tear falls, landing on her hand.
Her skin is pale, and a purplish hue presents itself like a faint blush.
She looks peaceful, as though sleeping, “The universe has lost a very unique light.” I speak directly to her, knowing that everything I am about to say will literally fall on deaf ears, but for some reason, I still feel like her spirit is here, and I hope she is listening.
“Your laughter was contagious, like that of an infant when they belly laugh for the first time.”
I place my hand on her wet, slicked back hair, “You faced countless struggles and fought demons that even I was unaware of.” I run my hand over her hair, from her forehead to the bed, as I continue, “My wish is that you are at peace now amongst the Angels in the heavens...” I press my lips to her cold forehead and whisper, “Say hi to my mom—she always had a soft spot for you.”
I grab her hand for the last time, plant a firm farewell kiss, and remember the jewelry that caused the tan line now visible in its absence.
I turn to face it, shimmering on the counter behind me, the singular charm of two hands locked in a pinky promise, delivers a symbolic punch to my gut as our promise echoes in my psyche:
Let's promise no matter the cost, no matter the stakes, we will always do what's right by each other.
Whatever it takes.
Putting the cold steel to my lips, I whisper, “Whatever it takes.”
As I leave the room, I see the doctor who gave all his efforts to save her, leaning on the counter with a hospital phone to his ear. He looks up momentarily, and when our eyes met, he nods—I respond in kind.
In making my way to the waiting room, I see Evelyn’s mom stand and stagger to a doctor’s side, as she fights the exhaustion that is trying to conquer her body.
I sit down next to the seat she was previously occupying and indolently watch.
Their body language is minimal so I resort to reading what little I can of their lips.
As I fidget with Adelaide’s jewelry, my actions sit idle in a ‘no man’s zone’, trapped amidst a heated battle between my heart and mind.
The news channels chatted. A toddler cries.
My senses are over-stimulated and sensitive—on edge for the other shoe to drop.
I catch in the periphery, Mrs. Selby’s knees buckle, and I am fast to her side, catching her before they completely give.
“Thank you, doc. I’ll take it from here.” I sit her down in the nearest chair and ask, “What did they say?”
“There… is nothing… they can do.” Her weeping made it difficult to understand, but I managed.
Once it registers, I take her face in my hands, “What do you mean? Do about what?” When I get no response from her after that, I run to Evelyn’s room, the sound of the steady beep of the machine bleeping louder the closer I get.
In making it to the room, I witness both girls lying there, eyes closed, a nurse at both of their sides.
Evelyn’s nurse is detaching tubes and turning off her machines—the beeping goes quiet.
Throwing myself at Evelyn’s bed, I place my head in her lap.
“No!” My screams reverberate throughout the hospital bay, “Sugar, you can’t leave me.
” My tears fall on the thick, warm blankets the nurses have provided for her, leaving damp spots in their wake as they seep through the fabric.
“I am not whole without you. Please stay,” My screams become more of a loud blubber, as I grip the material with all my strength.
“Please, Evelyn, hold on. Let. Me. Love. You.” I gently pound my fist on her shin out of sync with my words, my face sodden with salty tears.
“You are the gold that holds together my broken pieces.” My blubber now a soft plea, “The demons hide when you are with me... If you leave... I am afraid... they may... consume me.” I feel a mental switch flip as I look up and see her face.
Instantly, I am filled with rage, “I can’t lose you too!
Please, sugar. Baby. Don’t… don’t… don’t leave me!
” I slam my head face down back into her lap as my body violently shakes while anger and sadness fight for control.
Time escapes me as I hold on to her and sob.
Pressure makes itself known on top of my head as her fingers curl in my hair. “Sugar!”
I look up, and the nurse is still standing there staring at me, liquid pooling in her eyes. “That... was so sweet.” Peering over at the monitor, which had previously been turned off, it is now on and sounding normal.
“I thought-” I begin, “I thought you were calling it?”
The nurse’s face twists as confusion mixed with her empathy for the situation.
“Called what? I was only here to replace her machine,” she gestures toward the hospital equipment.
“We haven’t got our new machines in yet, and no one wants to step up and mark the bad equipment, so it's a guessing game.” She places her hand over her heart, “I am so sorry I scared you. Ms. Evelyn is just fine. Her body has been through a lot, and she will need a lot of rest, but she will be just fine.”
My gaze falls back to her as the nurse leaves the room. “I thought I lost you, Sugar.”