Chapter Eighteen
From: Keegan Baldwin [email protected]
To: Luna Oliver [email protected]
Date: July 12
I’m coming home for an entire week the last week of July. Will I get to see you? I’m staying with your parents. I have to move my mom.
From: Luna Oliver [email protected]
To: Keegan Baldwin [email protected]
Date: July 14
I haven’t heard from you since you accidentally kind of PG-style sexted me. Still dying over that. LOL. I leave for Italy on July 26th and don’t come back until August 8th. My boyfriend’s parents have a place on Lake Como. Will Stella come with you?
From: Keegan Baldwin [email protected]
To: Luna Oliver [email protected]
Date: July 14
No. That ended.
Once I get back in the city, I have shifts for ten days straight, and my time is mainly focused on preoperative and postoperative care of the patient. Days bleed into nights, and I barely see my apartment because it’s easier to crash in one of the resident rooms at the hospital.
“Hey there, Roomie,” Raven says as she walks down the hallway toward me. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in days.”
“I know,” I say, leaning against the nearest nurse’s station. “But after my shift, I have the next two days off and can’t wait to sleep in my bed and see daylight again.”
Raven squeezes my arm. “It almost makes me regret taking time off for the Fourth. Almost.” Her lips turn up in a grin, like she’s remembering a happy memory.
“Do you want to get all dressed up tomorrow night and go out to eat at a restaurant we can’t afford?” I grab my charts from the nurse’s station desk and hold them in front of me. “We could see if Myles is free too.”
“That sounds incredible,” Raven says. “It’s a date.”
Even though it’s the middle of the week, the rest of my shift feels like the Friday before the holiday break. But instead of getting a week off, I get two consecutive days, and I couldn’t be more excited about it. I’m starting to feel so comfortable at the hospital, but I miss my crappy, cozy little apartment too.
The rest of my shift drags on. I monitor surgical patients on the step-down floor who are ready to be released. I check vitals, and stitches, ask a million questions, and for those who are ready, I sign off on their release.
When my shift ends, I change out of my scrubs and have a smile plastered on my face when I walk out of the room to leave for the day. My excitement is cut short when Forest approaches me with a concerned look on his face.
“Hey, Luna,” Forest says, glancing at his phone and then back at me. “Keegan just called me. He’s sick and asked me to stop by. He never asks for anything. But I’m about to start my forty-eight-hour on-call shift.”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” I say. “He probably has a little man cold.”
Forest runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. He never asks for anything. He sounded terrible.”
“What do you want me to do?” I look at my watch. If I leave now, I can be home in fifteen minutes and have my first Netflix show queued up as I order dinner.
“Could you stop over there and check on him?”
“Forest, I’m sure he’s—”
“Please, Luna,” Forest says. “Besides us, he doesn’t have anyone. And it’s rare enough for him to call me. He’s definitely not going to ask anyone else for help.”
I blow out a breath. “He’s probably fine and doesn’t want to be bothered.”
“Maybe,” Forest says. “And if it’s nothing, good. but it will give me peace of mind.”
“Fine,” I finally say. “I’m sure it’s nothing, but I’ll let you know.”
Forest hugs me and then texts me the address to Keegan’s apartment building. He lets me know that he’ll call ahead to the doorman to explain that I need to be let up.
I trudge in the direction of Keegan’s building, and it’s pretty much equal distance to the hospital that mine is, only in the opposite direction. I talk to the doorman, show him my identification, and then he lets me up the elevator. I text Keegan that I’m coming, but I don’t get a response.
The elevator stops on the fifteenth floor, and I knock on his door. I wait a few moments and then knock again. When he still doesn’t answer, I use the key card that Forest gave me to let myself in.
“Keegan, are you here?” I call out but am met with silence. “Keegan? It’s Luna.”
I toss my bag on the huge kitchen island, and my mouth nearly hangs open as I take in his place. I’ve been in the city for nearly six weeks but haven’t ever been here. Everything looks new. The counters are white marble, and the living area is expansive. Sunlight pours in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the floors are a beautiful light wood.
“Keegan,” I say again as I head down a long hallway.
The walls are white, and the only thing hanging on them is a large painting of the spoonbridge and cherry from the Minneapolis sculpture gardens. I pass a bathroom on my right and a room with the door cracked open. I peek inside, and it’s a library full of books. There is a lone room on the left at the end of the hallway.
“Keegan.” I reach the closed door and slowly open it. “Are you in here?”
His bedroom is dark, but I can see the outline of a massive bed that is centered in the room. I reach his bed, turn on a lamp, and Keegan begins to stir. He’s sound asleep, and I consider tiptoeing out of his room like I was never here, but instead, I put my hand on his shoulder and slightly squeeze.
“Hey, Keegan.”
One of his eyes pops open, and then he tries to sit up. He’s got a sweatshirt on with the hood covering his hair. He looks a little green. I take the back of my hand and press it against his forehead. The man’s burning up.
“Am I dreaming?” Keegan says, rubbing his eyes. “Is that you?”
“It’s not a dream.” I sit on the edge of the bed. “Forest said you aren’t feeling well. You’re burning up.”
“You didn’t have to come,” he says, leaning back against the headboard. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you have a thermometer?” I wave him off.
“Medical bag. Top drawer.” Keegan points to the nightstand. “But Luna, I’m fine. You can leave.”
“Yeah, okay.” I shake his hand off of me and open the drawer. I try to ignore the pile of condoms and reach for the black bag. I open it up, grab a thermometer, and stick it in his mouth. Keegan moans.
When it beeps, I pull it out. “104.3. Damn, Keegan.”
I then grab the stethoscope. I try to reach down his shirt, but he has it pulled too tight, so I enter from the bottom. His skin is lava beneath my touch.
“It’s so cold,” Keegan says as he shivers.
“Compared to your skin, I’m sure it is,” I say. “I’m going to listen to your lungs. Take a deep breath.”
Keegan inhales and then blows out a breath.
“Rhonchi,” I say, hearing the crackling sounds as he breathes. “Keegan, we need to get you to a doctor. I think you have pneumonia.”
“No, no.” Keegan waves me away. “I’ll call in an order of Amoxicillin.”
“Keegan,” I protest. “For being the smartest person I know, you’re acting stupid.”
“Luna,” Keegan says my name slowly, and I remove the covers and pull him toward the edge of the bed. “My entire body feels like I’ve been run over. I can’t make it to a doctor.”
“I’ll help,” I say, using all of my strength to pull him up. “I’d feel better if you get checked out.”
“That’s too much of me to ask.” Keegan whimpers as he stands.
“You didn’t ask,” I say. “I’m demanding that I take you in for a chest x-ray.”
He leans on me as we walk toward the door. He sits and slips on a pair of sneakers. It’s ninety degrees outside, but Keegan looks like he’s dressed for winter.
“My friend works at Presby’s general clinic,” he says. “I’ll call ahead and see if they can get me in right away.”
Dr. Keegan Baldwin carries a lot of clout at Presby, and as soon as we walk in the door, the two of us are brought to an exam room. I don’t ask Keegan if he wants me to stay with him. His tight grip on my arm tells me he doesn’t want me to leave. The doctor does a blood test and orders a chest x-ray.
When the doctor leaves the room, Keegan turns to me. “I’m so sorry you have to be here. Forest shouldn’t have asked you.”
“You know you could have called me and asked for help,” I say.
“Lu—”
“If Forest hadn’t told me,” I interrupt, “you’d still be in bed, miserable.”
After a couple of hours at the clinic, the diagnosis is confirmed. Bacterial pneumonia. And on top of that, a case of Influenza A. On the way out, we stop by the pharmacy to grab his prescription for antibiotics. When I get Keegan back in his apartment, he’s exhausted and feels miserable.
“Let me grab you some water.” His fridge is almost empty. I grab the water jug and pour him a tall glass. “Drink all of this, and let’s get you back in bed.”
“You can leave, seriously,” Keegan says, already walking down the hallway. “You’ve been so helpful. I don’t want you to catch what I have.”
I pause, wondering if I should follow him, or say goodbye and leave. My heart grows seeing Keegan like this. I have this strong urge to take care of him and make everything better. My heart breaks knowing he’s alone, feeling this way, with no food in his fridge.
“Should I call someone?” I step toward him. “Elise? Anyone else?”
“No. Definitely no.” Keegan walks into his bedroom and I follow. “Honestly. I’m good.”
Again, my conscience pulls at me. I could leave now, and still get a couple of episodes of my show in. But I don’t think I’d enjoy myself knowing that Keegan is here all alone, feeling as miserable as he does.
I grab his arm as he reaches his bedroom. “Do you want me to leave?”
Keegan turns. His face softens, and he slowly blinks. “No. But I don’t want you to get sick either.”
“Well there you have it,” I say. “I’m staying. And I’ve already been exposed to what you have, so it’s too late to worry about that.”
“Thanks.” Keegan squeezes my hand. He then gets under the covers, turns on his side, and shuts his eyes.
I jump into caregiver mode. I buy groceries for him online and then order a few pints of chicken noodle soup from one of my favorite soup shops in the city. I write out his medicine schedule, sprinkling in plenty of opportunities to give him fever and pain relievers. I stock up on vapor rub filled with menthol, eucalyptus, and camphor. I scrub down every surface that Keegan could have touched. When the groceries arrive, I put everything away, and am proud of all the fresh produce and healthy food options that stare back at me.
After everything is organized, I tiptoe into his room, sit in his comfy chair in the corner of the room, and wait for him to wake up.