29. Rusty
twenty-nine
Rusty
I was angry and hurt, but most of all, I was confused. Carina had refused to talk to any of us. She’d locked herself away in her room, where she banged around for an hour or two, and then she’d left and spent hours outside. She’d walked away alone and hadn’t once looked back. Was that how easy it would be for her to leave?
It was a relief when she finally came back; Jacques and I were ready to send out a search party. It was dusk, and there were mountain lions and coyotes in the hills. She could have been bitten by a snake or spider, slipped down a ravine, anything. It wasn’t safe to be out, especially at night, but even more so without water. At least she’d had her phone, but I still wanted to shake her when she came home.
Unlike me, Jacques kept his head and tried to talk to her.
She brushed him off.
Her mind was made up.
Carina misread why Jacques was upset. Instead of staying, she offered to lay low and off social media. She reasoned that if she did, her leaving might be missed entirely.
The publicity was the least of our worries.
Carina had refused to say goodbye to Travis when he’d been called into work, and he’d left hurt and angry. We weren’t even sure if he’d be back before she left for the airport—Carina wouldn’t even tell us what time her flight was.
Short of tying her up and demanding she stay, neither Jacques nor I had a clue what to do. We’d telephoned Hux and spoke with Cara. She’d spoken to Carina but refused to tell us anything more than that she and Hux were taking her to the airport. I understood that she had to respect her mom’s wishes.
But I didn’t like it.
***
Hours had passed since she’d gone to bed. It was pitch black outside. Jacques had finally fallen asleep on the sofa, Zeus curled into him, an hour ago. He’d been in the gym half the day and skating for the rest of it to work off the frustration and anger we were both feeling. I’d tried yoga, but all it did was remind me that I’d be doing it alone from now on.
I already missed her.
I’d gone and fallen for Carina, and now everything was falling apart. Was it because of me? I’d kissed her a week ago. We’d slept together again the night before last. It all started to spiral downward after that. It was a whole lot of coincidence that Carina didn’t want Jacques and Travis anymore when I’d become involved. Maybe if I stepped back, she’d stay. Maybe if I left for a while so it was just the three of them, they could work it out. I could move out to the guesthouse. Sophia and Pierre wouldn’t mind if I couch surfed at their house for a few months—they still hadn’t set a date for their return—or I could lease somewhere close if it looked permanent.
I wanted Carina, Jacques, and Travis happy. If sacrificing my own happiness was the price I had to pay, I’d do it.
I paced the living room, trying to make sense of how things had gone so wrong. The sky lightened, turning grey. Twenty minutes more, and the sun would crest the range behind me, dazzling in its beauty. The house was quiet and still. Peace suffused the air around me. I normally found comfort in this time of day. But not today. Not the day that Carina was leaving.
A noise pierced the air so unlike the birds chirping outside that I froze. I listened, trying to catalogue where the sound was coming from and what it was. My mind was sluggish, exhaustion slowing me down.
The bedroom.
My cell phone.
It lived on silent, except when Travis was at work and when I was charging it.
I sprinted down the corridor, my socks sliding on the timber floors as I raced to answer it. Travis sometimes called when he was bored—that was the epitome of a good shift. They were rarely quiet and bored, but it was what we all wished for every time he walked out the door.
It stopped ringing when I was a foot away from it. But I picked my cell phone up with a smile. Talking to him always brightened my spirits.
But Travis hadn’t called.
It was the chief. Dread settled in my gut, and my hands shook while I called him back.
“Ch-Chief,” I greeted. “Apologies for missing your call. What’s going on?”
“Lincoln, I’m sorry.” The line crackled and my heart stuttered. “There’s been an accident. Travis is—”
My ears filled with static. My chest clenched tight, and my hands instantly became clammy. The phone slipped from my sweaty grip.
The thud on the floor barely registered.
My legs couldn’t hold me up anymore. I crumpled to the floor.
There was a crash. Porcelain shattered.
Then all I could hear was my breaths, labored and fast. I couldn’t slow them.
I was instantly lightheaded.
The room spun like the Gravitron ride I’d been on when I was a kid.
Footsteps thundered down the corridor.
I was dragged out of myself to float above my body. I saw myself curl up in the fetal position, jammed against the side of our bed.
I watched as Jacques careened in.
The color drained from his face.
He dashed forward and fell to his knees before me.
He brushed my hair off my face, infinitely gentle. “Rusty, we need to get you up.”
He gripped my arm and tried to lift me. But I couldn’t move. I was numb. I didn’t feel him. I wasn’t even in my own body.
Another person came into the room. Carina.
“Oh my god, what’s happened?” she cried.
I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t even move.
“It’s okay. It’s going to be all right,” Jacques murmured, his voice low and comforting.
Carina stepped closer. I looked up at her, unseeing. I blinked. I gasped in a breath and exhaled. But I couldn’t get enough oxygen in. In place of the air in my lungs was a tight band compressing my chest.
I looked down on us, observing like a fly on the wall. I watched as Carina’s attention was drawn elsewhere. She bent and picked up my cell phone. She spoke rapidly. Then she dashed around the bed, wrote something down, and palmed my cell.
“Linc, honey. We have to get to the hospital.”
“What?” Jacques barked, his eyes wide as he wrenched his gaze away from me and snapped it to hers.
“Travis has been in an accident. He’s in surgery. We have to get to the hospital.”
Jacques froze, and I was sucked back into my body with the speed of the Niagara River emptying over the falls. My breathing turned rapid again. My heart pounded in my chest. I rocked back and forth, wanting to hide. Desperate to get away.
“Rusty, look at me,” Jacques ordered gently and slipped his hand into mine. “Squeeze my hand twice if it’s okay for me to sit you up.”
I did, and he hauled me into a seated position.
“Is it okay if I hug you? Give me another two squeezes if it is.”
I did and tried to suck in another breath but failed. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders. His warmth seeped into me, and I burrowed my face into the crook of his neck. After the longest time, I managed to wrap my arms around his waist.
“That’s it, breathe slowly. Can I lift you up so you’re sitting on my lap?”
I squeezed him tighter, and he widened the gap between my legs and eased me onto him. I wrapped my arms and legs around him, clinging to him like a baby monkey does to its mother.
He stroked my back and spoke softly to me. Over and over until his voice was hoarse, he said, “You’re safe. Travis is safe. He’ll be okay. The doctors will fix him right up. We’ll get through this.”
The band around my chest finally loosened. My breathing slowed. My muscles unclenched, and the urge to squeeze into the tight gap under the bed faded.
“That’s it. You’re okay,” he murmured.
I pulled back, my cheeks hot and tears blurring my vision. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I blinked, my tears falling down my cheeks. Then I looked at Carina and repeated my apology.
“Jacques, we need—”
“Yeah, I know,” he cut in. “Rusty, think you’ll be all right to get to the hospital?”
I nodded and forced myself out of the safety of Jacques’s embrace. The room swayed around me. Jacques helped me balance until I could steady myself.
“Let’s get our shoes on,” Carina prompted.
Numbly I followed her direction, unable to do more than that. I slipped my feet into my slides and watched as Jacques raced over to the closet, pulled on a pair of old sneakers, and dashed back to me.
“I’m okay,” I mumbled. But I couldn’t do much more than stand there like a robot.
I was numb. In shock.
“Jacques, where are your keys? Let me lock up and we’ll go.”
Carina dashed out of the room, her long hair fluttering behind her like a mane, and I stared numbly after her.
“Guys,” she called after a moment, and we moved, hauling ass out to the entryway near our front door.
“Keys and ID?” Carina asked, and Jacques scooped them up from the drawers in the side table. She plucked the keys from his hand and said, “Let’s go.”
Carina locked the door and hustled us into the car, then jumped straight into the driver’s seat and plugged an address into the navigation.
“In eight hundred and eighty yards, turn left,” the car instructed.
“Oh, fuck that,” Carina muttered. “Jacques, figure out a way to turn this thing metric or we’ll end up in Tijuana.”
She didn’t wait for him to finish, slamming her foot on the accelerator. The back end of the big SUV fishtailed, throwing dust and gravel into the air as we sped down the driveway.
Jacques gripped the grab handle and played with the settings on the navigation. He was quiet, as if my panic attack had sucked the life right out of him. I knew exactly how he felt.
“Right side of the road,” Carina murmured as she turned left out of our drive. She lifted her gaze to the rearview mirror and met mine for a moment.
“You with me?” she asked.
I blinked, and she pursed her lips.
“Talk to me, Lincoln. I need to hear you speak.”
“I…,” I choked out before sucking in a shuddery breath. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”
“Stay with me, all right?” Carina flicked her gaze to Jacques momentarily, then straight back to the road. “Jacques, you?”
He exhaled heavily. “Travis….”
“The line with the chief was really bad. I couldn’t hear much of what he said. I don’t know exactly what happened, but his injuries aren’t life-threatening. That’s the main thing. The chief was on his way to the hospital too. We’ll find out when we get there.” Tears welled in her eyes, and she shook her head, then wiped them away. “He’s okay. That’s what we need to focus on.”
The ride was quiet after that. The exhaustion was all consuming, but I wanted to see Travis. I needed to.
He needed me to be strong. Travis and Jacques had always been there for me. I needed to do the same for them.
Carina pulled into the emergency room parking lot and clutched the steering wheel with a white-knuckled grip. Even grasping something tight, her hands were shaking.
She exhaled heavily. Tears sprang to her eyes. She dashed them away and forced a smile. “Let’s go find Trav,” she said with too much enthusiasm, the forced brightness in her tone not fooling either of us.
The wind on my face as we dashed across the parking lot woke me up, and I fought to keep my heart rate steady and my breathing even. But the moment we stepped into the lobby, it hit me again, and my chest tightened. The sharp smell of antiseptic, the low murmur of voices and pained groans, the mass of bodies waiting. There were people everywhere. Too many people.
Jacques ushered Carina closer to me with a whispered word and then bracketed my other side. With them on either side of me, my breathing eased, the overwhelm not so catastrophic. We waited, the line moving interminably slowly. I wanted to shout for him, to burst through the double doors people were being taken through and yell his name until I tracked him down. But my movements were slow, as if I were wading through molasses, and I was shaking.
I followed silently as Jacques stepped up to the counter and said, “We’re here to see Travis Taylor.”
“Are you his next of kin?” the receptionist asked politely.
“Yes, I’m Jacques Gauthier.”
He tapped a few keys and frowned. “I’m sorry Mr. Gauthier, but you aren’t listed as Mr. Taylor’s emergency contact.”
Carina slid her hand into mine and squeezed. It was like an injection of pure sunlight. Warmth infused me. I could breathe again.
But she was trembling.
My voice came back to me in a rush. “Shit, Carina, you’re freezing,” I stated and started to unbutton the shirt I’d been wearing since yesterday. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
She placed her hand on mine and shook her head. “No, not cold. Just… just need to see Trav.”
Jacques argued back at the man at the reception desk. “We’re his emergency contacts.”
“Are you married?” he asked.
“No,” Jacques shot back. “Look, I just need to know where he is. Please.”
The receptionist feigned a smile and said patiently, “I can’t give information out except to a person’s next of kin.”
“Are you allowed to tell us who his next of kin is?” Carina asked, her voice shaky.
Jacques shifted to stand behind us and wrapped his arm around her. He held her close. She was stiff, standing with her arms pinned to her sides, but after a beat, she relaxed and squeezed my hand, keeping me close to them.
“Yes, I can. It’s Lincoln Zimmerman.”
“That’s me,” I croaked and fumbled my ID before dropping it on the counter instead of handing it to him.
“Thank you, Mr. Zimmerman.”
He gave us directions on which waiting room to go to, and I blindly followed Carina. She raced ahead, walking along a corridor before we got in the elevator and went up a few levels. Back in among the maze of corridors, I was sure we were going around in circles.
“Excuse me, can I help you?” an orderly in blue scrubs asked.
Carina thrust the Post-it note the receptionist had given us toward the woman, who then gestured down the corridor.
“Come with me.” She led us into a waiting room.
The chief was there with another firefighter I recognized, but she wasn’t in uniform. They greeted us but went silent when the nurse asked who we were waiting for.
“Travis Taylor,” Carina answered. “Can we please get an update on his condition? The receptionist just sent us up here.”
“Let me find out some details for you.”
She disappeared out the door, and I looked around, still feeling detached from my body. I’d have a hangover later as well as a killer headache, and exhaustion would swamp me. I needed to sit down, but the hard plastic chairs didn’t look inviting.
The air was heavy, the weight of decades of family members waiting to find out about their loved ones stealing the oxygen out of the beige room. The colorful abstract canvas mounted on the wall seemed like an afterthought, an attempt at injecting life back into the room.
Carina and Jacques were talking to the chief, their low voices a hum that carried across the sterile room. I tried to focus on what they said, but I couldn’t concentrate long enough. The only thing that broke through the fog was the tick of the wall-mounted clock. But I watched as Jacques closed his eyes, the tension melting from his shoulders. Carina nodded and wiped her face with the heel of her hand, then sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly. They were relieved. That meant Travis would be okay. That was all that mattered.
Jacques came over to me and reached for my hand. “He has a broken arm. He’s in surgery. We just have to wait for them to finish and Travis to wake up.”
Relief swamped me, and the energy drained from my body, leaving me hollow. I melted onto the nearest chair, my bones no longer solid.
Jacques paced the room, the steady squeak of his sneakers on the linoleum lulling me into a trance. Waiting, listening to the interminable tick, tick, tick of the clock was hellish. I knew he would be okay, but that wasn’t enough. I needed to see him.
Carina bit her thumbnail, but otherwise stood unmoving as if she were made of glass and would shatter with the slightest nudge.
When the nurse reentered, she looked straight at me. “Mr. Zimmerman,” she said.
I stood up and waited for her to continue.
“Mr. Taylor is in surgery. He’s undergoing repair work for a compound fracture to his left ulna. His forearm,” she clarified. “He’ll be out of surgery in about an hour, and then, when he’s awake and in his room, you’ll be able to check in on him.”
“That’s good,” I choked out.
“It is. A couple of months and he’ll be back to normal.” She smiled gently and turned to Jacques. “Best of luck this season, Mr. Gauthier.”
It hit me then—every emotion that I’d barely been holding back barreling into me like a wall of water—and I cried. I buried my face in my hands, and fat tears rolled down my cheeks. The burden of anguish lifted off my chest. The room, weighed down with fear a moment ago, was now filled with light and color. I sucked in a breath, and fresh air filled my lungs. It was as if I’d been trapped in a vacuum. The confirmation from the nurse was everything I’d needed.
Now we just had to wait for him to get through the operation and come to. I could do that. We could.
I reached for Carina and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, drawing her to me. She buried her face against my chest, and I breathed her in. She laughed, but it was a half sob, half giggle.
“I just drove in the US,” she said.
I huffed out a laugh and held her tighter. “You did.”
“Even managed to stay on the right side of the road,” Jacques added with a grin. It was such a contrast to only a few moments ago when we were all sick with worry.
“It’ll never be the right side of the road,” Carina shot back. “You’re all backward here.”
Jacques chuckled and reached out. But then he hesitated and dropped his hands. I brushed the back of my hand against Jacques’s, and he hooked our index fingers together, holding me the only way he could in the waiting room while he rubbed his wife’s back.
I closed my eyes and thanked God for stepping in and keeping Travis safe.
He was going to be fine. I’d make sure it was the same with Carina. I couldn’t let her leave. No matter what, she needed to stay with us.