Andi #2
The sound of sirens picks up in the distance, dragging me back to reality.
“Let me go,” I whisper.
“We can’t do that, Sweet Tea,” Cameron rasps.
“Let me go,” I repeat. “I need—need to talk to them.”
“We should—we should handle that,” Beck says, his brows drawing down. “You shouldn’t—shouldn’t worry.”
“Well, I am worried!” I bite out. “Nothing is going to change that. Feeling like I’m actually doing something and not just sitting around will help. Plus, I’m his daughter! That—that has to mean something, right?”
“It does,” Cameron says. I can hear it in his voice, the way he’s trying to compartmentalize, the way he’s trying to be the steady support I need right now.
He’s good at it, too. Better than Beck at least, who’s just as panicked as I am, though he’s definitely better at hiding it.
I wonder what horrors Cameron has had to witness and maintain a straight face for. Maybe it’s a good thing he’s going to take a break, if he has the skill to see my dad—his idol—lifeless on the driveway pavement, and not lose his shit.
A firetruck careens around the corner of the street, sirens wailing as it approaches our house.
“Let me go, guys,” I rasp.
They do, despite their obvious reluctance. I jog over to Leo, my hands trembling.
“The firetruck has arrived, thank you,” Leo says to the dispatcher before hanging up.
“Why—why did they send a fire truck?” I ask him.
He turns his gaze down to me, the tightness around his eyes telling me that he doesn’t like that I’m out here, but he doesn’t say anything. He just reaches out to lace my fingers with his.
“Fire truck could get here faster. They’ve got medically trained people on their team. The ambulance is on its way,” he says.
Four firefighters jump out from the truck, their boots clomping against the ground as they jog towards us.
Two of them head towards Eli, who’s still doing compressions, while two head towards Leo and I.
“Hello, my name is Lieutenant Dunbar. What’s the situation?”
“We came home from work to find him in the driveway unconscious. We don’t know how long he’s been out,” Leo answers. “When we called, the dispatcher told us to start CPR.”
“Do you know of any prior medical history?”
“I—I do,” I say, holding up a trembling hand. “I’m his daughter. He—he and my mom had a chemical unbonding that I’m pretty sure went wrong, somehow. He doesn’t talk about it a lot.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Almost twenty years ago.”
Lieutenant Dunbar nods to the firefighter by his side, who jogs over to where my dad is still prone on the ground, to convey the information.
“We’re going to get your dad some help, okay? The paramedics are almost here; then we can get your dad transferred to a hospital.”
I try to peek past Leo, who’s carefully positioned himself between me and the sight of my dad.
Eli is sitting back on his heels, shaking out his wrists as the firefighters take over. It’s still pretty warm out, and he has sweat dripping down his brow.
With so many people around my dad, I can barely even see him.
More sirens wail in the background, and an ambulance careens around the corner of the street next.
From that point onwards, everything becomes a whirlwind.
There are so many people. Some names are thrown around, but I’m not in the headspace to remember any of them.
At one point, my dad’s shirt gets cut off, revealing for the first time the black bondmarks on his neck. There’s a network of black, spider-like veins radiating from the scar. I can see why he keeps it covered all the time.
It looks worse than Gina’s. Was that because he was left untreated after she severed the bond? Is this why he’s collapsed out of nowhere?
My dad is loaded onto a stretcher. There’s a machine that looks like some sort of torture device—an arc of menacing plastic and metal—attached to the bars of the gurney and held over his chest. It’s moving up and down in brutal, rhythmic compressions.
His wrists are velcroed to the arcs, holding them out of the way throughout transport.
It’s a nauseating sight, seeing his body look so frail.
“Alright, who’s next of kin? We only have space in the van for one,” the paramedic—Nick? Nate? Nathaniel? N-something—yells.
Out of the small crowd of people here, all of my guys look to me.
“Me,” I say, raising my hand. My voice is surprisingly even, despite the fact that I feel like I’m crumbling to dust inside. “I’m his daughter.”
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes,” I nod, offering Leo’s hand one squeeze before I pull away from him.
“Wait!” Beck appears by my side, panting slightly.
I’m half expecting him to tell me not to go.
But he doesn’t. None of them stop me.
Beck hands me a hoodie—one of Eli’s, based on the blood orange scent—and a pair of sandals.
“You’re not even wearing shoes, Starlight.”
“Thanks,” I say, swallowing hard past the lump in my throat. I slip on the sandals and turn to the paramedic. “Ready.”
“Great,” he nods, his expression sympathetic. “You cool with heading to Cedars Sinai? It’s the closest.”
“Yes, whatever gets him seen the soonest,” I nod, my movements stiff and jerky.
I haul myself inside the ambulance, the metal hand bar cold against my heated skin.
“You guys can meet us there, that cool?” The paramedic says, gesturing at my guys. They offer a series of nods, and the doors are closing behind us.
“Alright, let’s get rolling,” the paramedic says. His partner, a broad-shouldered beta woman, floors the gas. I’m surprised the tires don’t squeal as we zoom down the winding neighborhood roads, sirens wailing.
The back of the ambulance is surprisingly bumpy.
Despite the harness I’m quick to put on, I still feel like I’m getting tossed around like a rag doll.
I can see why machines like the one they have strapped to my dad are used.
I’m not sure I’d be able to stay on and continue CPR effectively in a moving vehicle if the ride is this bumpy.
“I don’t think I caught your name,” the paramedic comments, moving around the back of the ambulance with practiced ease as he checks certain monitors he’s hooking my dad up to as they drive.
“Andi,” I say. “What—what was your name again? Sorry, I’m—I’m usually better with that sort of thing.”
“Drew,” he answers.
Okay, so I guess his name didn’t start with an N.
“Nice to meet you, Andi. Wish it were under better circumstances. Things are going to get a bit chaotic when we get there, just want to give you a heads up on what’s going to happen.”
“They’re—they’re going to get more chaotic?” I cling to Eli’s hoodie, pressing it against my chest. I haven’t had a chance to put it on yet. I think the adrenaline is making me run warm.
“Yeah, unfortunately, they are. We’re going to bring him to the emergency bay, and they’re going to take him right up to get treatment. It’s going to be a whole lotta people yelling and moving around. There should be someone to greet you and get you somewhere you can sit, okay?”
“O—okay.” My voice is barely audible over the wailing siren and the roar of my own blood pulsing through my ears.
My dad looks so fragile, lying on the gurney with that great big machine punching into his chest.
The sight reminds me of Gina, because for whatever reason, my stupid brain is thinking of her in this moment.
Maybe because deep down, I know my dad collapsing like this has something to do with her. The timing is just too convenient. Maybe the stress of seeing her in court pushed his body, his heart to this state.
I’ve done enough therapy to know that this isn’t necessarily my fault. My dad chose to help me.
But I haven’t done enough therapy to not feel this burning, seething hatred directed at my mom. Because if it’s not my fault, then it’s hers.
She has systematically taken so much from me throughout my life. My childhood. My self-confidence. My sense of self.
Hell, even my freedom.
She took me away from my dad as a child, and now her selfish actions are taking him away from me again.
A broken, strangled sob leaves my chest before I can choke it down.
Drew is too occupied keeping my dad alive to give me any more reassurance, but he does manage to drop a tissue box on the seat next to me that I barely manage to keep from flying across the ambulance at our next turn.
“I don’t—don’t know if you can hear me, Dad. But—but you can’t die,” I croak out. “You can’t. I still need you. You can’t leave me. Please—”
“Pulling in now,” the EMT calls from up front.
I bump up and down in my seat as we pull into the emergency bay parking.
“Gonna get crazy,” Drew echoes from earlier, offering me a sympathetic smile.
“Crazy, yeah,” I nod.
“Just stay seated there while I get him out, okay?”
“Got it.”
The doors are pulled open. Drew was right; this is crazy.