My heart’s beating hard enough, and my stomach’s twisting itself into a roller coaster. I’m panicking right along with him.
“Hunter? It’s Sera, remember?” His baby blues come at me, connect with me. He looks at me like I’m his salvation. It hurts my heart, the look on his face. He lunges to grab my free hand, squeezing it between the both of his. God, he’s shaking so much. His eyes are pin-balling in his sockets, searching my face, the hallway around me, everything. “Hunter, look at me? Do you need an ambulance?”
He’s watching my mouth move and I don’t know if he’s heard me. His face crumples, the mask of calm collapsing, features now twisted into a suffering I can’t understand.
“I’m calling an ambulance. You need help.” I palm my phone, ready dial.
“No,” he moans, squeezing my hand harder.
I swallow hard. “You need help. If you pass out, I can’t carry you anywhere.”
“No ambulances. You can take me to the hospital,” he pants, eyes glued to mine. Each word costs him, like they suck the small reserve of energy he has left.
Fuck. “Where are your keys?” Instead of waiting for him to answer, I start rifling through his pockets with shaking hands. His hoodie has empty candy wrappers and some loose change. The jeans have receipts and some cash.
“I need you to stand up for me, Hunter. You need to stand up, okay? C’mon, on three.” I think he knows I’m his last hope. He gets his feet under him, and uses the wall as leverage to get himself vertical. This is bravery, not necessarily waving a light-saber in front of a dark enemy. I swallow past the pain in my throat, and continue my search for his keys. Ass pockets don’t have anything, until I look at his door. He’s left them in the lock. “Is your boy in there?” Hunter’s tilted his head back and closed his eyes, breath slowing down. “Listen to me, asshole, is your kid inside?”
He struggles to focus on me, head loose on his neck. “Yesssssssss.”
I put both arms around his waist. “We’re gonna shuffle closer to your door. All you need to do is move to your left, slowly, ok? Baby steps. Let’s go.” I shuffle with him, trying as best as I can to keep his weight centered or leaning back on the wall. If he falls on me, we’re both screwed.
Blood pounds at my temples, and my throat’s dry. I’m not really sure how I’m talking, or even ordering him around. I’m not sure of much, but I do know we’re in serious trouble if we stop.
“Almost there. Almost. Two more steps, I promise.” I coax, keeping my voice calm. God, what is wrong with him? He’s too big, I’m going to drop him. I don’t have superhuman strength to get him to the hospital on my own.
Bile rises hot up my throat, but I swallow it down, letting it burn my stomach. We make it to the edge of his door. I stretch out my arm and pray for Reed Richards-like abilities – nope, no help at all. I dash forward, twist the key and get the door open with a flick of my wrist on the knob. I jump back to where Hunter has started to sag away from the door. Bending my knees, I haul him back to center.
“Who the fuck are you? What are you doing?” Hunter yells in my face, eyes glassy and unfocused. I ignore him, keeping my arms around his waist. His hands are on my shoulders, following them down to my arms, trying to unwind me. I snarl at him, and the show of aggression calms him down some, just enough time for me to get his kid out here.
“KID! KID! COME HERE, NOW!” I holler, knowing that if I let the giant bastard go, we’re not going anywhere. I want to respect his wishes, but if shit comes down to it, I’m calling the ambulance. I don’t even care if he’s going to be the shittiest neighbour ever.
A little head pokes out of Hunter’s apartment, and I’m shocked all over again how much he looks like his Dad. “Kid, get your shoes on, now. You gotta be quick. HURRY!” I feel bad that I’m yelling at him, but the kid listens. “Close the door, lock it. Good. Grab the keys. Let’s go.” I don’t know why the kid knows how to lock a door, but it sure comes in handy.
“Get the elevator, please.” The little guy runs to jab the down button. I figure if I keep Hunter against the wall for as long as possible we’ll be okay. The doors’ll take a minute to close anyway, and if I waddle over fast enough to get him into the elevator, we’ll be good.
The kid does as he’s told. I wonder if he’s as scared as I am. Is this normal behavior for his Dad? I will not vomit, I will not vomit. Elevator chimes – the most beautiful sound in the world. I pull on Hunter, who stumbles forward to my backward walk. I quickly pivot and give him my back, using my thighs to keep him upright while his feet are struggling to find the ground. His chest hits my upper back, and his arms squeeze around my waist.
I ignore it. The poor guy doesn’t know what he’s doing.
“Kid! Get in!” I pant, when I’ve got Hunter situated in a corner. It’s not lost on me that we’re in a reversed position I saw him in with his girl. Where is that bitch anyway? This is her job!
“Is Daddy tired again?” the little guy asks, after pushing for the basement. He’s not scared, he sounds only curious. I nod, hoping he won’t start with a millions why’s. “I’m Matty.”
I clear my throat, watching the numbers above the door crawl down to the basement. “Hi, Matty. I’m Sera. I found your Dad. We’re gonna take his keys, and we’re gonna drive him to the hospital, ok? He’ll get better there.”
“Okay.” Matty’s too calm about all of this. Freaks me out. I mean, I’m glad he’s not wailing, or shrieking, but this tranquility’s getting me nervous. Like this kinda thing happens all the time, and he understands what’s going on. Christ, how old is he?
The elevator doors open and I’m in trouble. I haven’t thought this far ahead.
“Matty-”
“A4, Sera. The blue Honda is Daddy’s.” I swallow past the pain in my throat. How many times has this asshole done this to his kid? Ugh.
“Awesome. Okay, do you know how to unlock the doors?” The car beeps three times, unlocking the front and the back of a blue car twenty feet away from us. Totally doable. Right? Right? “Of course you do. Alright, get the front door open. I’m going to drive.”
Matty does as he’s told, running ahead, and getting the passenger side open. God, this asshole weighs a ton. Bastard probably has a whole protein diet, protein shake thing going on. I grunt with every step as he stays glued to my back, wondering if I’m going to pop a knee and Matty’ll have to drag both our sorry asses to the car.
Hunter keeps making little hurt sounds in his throat, little whimpers and unintelligible noises I can’t make out as anything in English. At least he’s not fighting me anymore.
Pivoting around when we finally get to the car, I end up sitting on his lap, manoeuvring him how I want in the passenger’s seat. Scrambling off, grunting with exertion, I get his long legs into the car, half-crawling over him to get his seat belt on. I shut the door, only to see Matty sitting in his car seat.
This thing is NASA-sanctioned. I can’t figure out the snaps and where they’re supposed to go. Matty helps me, pointing out where buckles snap into locks, and where the straps tighten. I start the car, hoping we’ve got at least a quarter tank of gas.
Amazing. I screech out of the underground parking lot, almost drifting around the corner Fast and the Furious 3 style, almost taking out another car’s mirror. Whatever. I woulda paid for that. Flooring the gas pedal, we get out of the fluorescent –lit parking lot and into the daylight.
“Hunter? HUNTER!” I yell, Charlie-horsing his thigh with my fist. He yelps. Good. “We’re going to the hospital like you asked. We’ll be there in fifteen.” He nods absently, and his head falls back against the headrest. I keep sneaking glances at him, as I burn through three stop signs in a row. He’s gone and closed his eyes, barely breathing.
Better make the drive under ten minutes.
I make it in eight and a half.
I slam the brakes, haul up the emergency brake in case someone decides to tow us before I get Hunter’s ass fully in and registered in Emergency. Turnin
g, I see Matty trying to undo his million and two straps surrounding his little body. I turn off the car, grab my purse, and haul ass to his side of the car.
My hands shake as I try to get the snaps undone, helping him as much as I can. When he’s free, he keeps a hold of the back of my shirt as I get Hunter’s passenger door open. I heave Hunt’s legs out, pulling my back, and have to smack his face a few times to get him awake and lucid. I don’t think he sees me, but I’m hoping his body is on automatic enough to listen.
“Ma’am you can’t park here-” A security guard has Hunter’s door in hand ready to close it on his feet.
“Does he look okay to YOU?” I yell, pulling on Hunter’s arms to get him out of the way. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him! Do something useful and get him a wheelchair! Get him inside!”I screech, sounding like a lunatic. I don’t care. Now’s not the time for stupid questions and dumb rules.
The guard gets high up on his authority horse, puffing out his chest.
“Look, there’s something wrong with him. Get me a wheelchair. We need to get him inside. NOW.”
Tweedle-Dee stares at me long and hard. Long enough to make a point. Long enough to waste time and for Matty to lose it.
“My Daddy is SICK! HELP HIM!” Matty howls, winding his fists into the back of my shirt. The hideous sound that comes out his mouth makes me want to cover my ears, and hide in a corner.
“Help me get him out. Hurry!” I yell.
It takes three orderlies to get Hunter out of the car. Three of them to bark questions at me that I don’t have the answers to.
Matty trembles beside me, tears leaving shining tracks down his cheeks. I don’t know what to tell him; I don’t know what I can say. When my blank face doesn’t give the nurses any answers, Matty pipes up: “Insulin-dependent diabetic.”
These words work like magic. Nurses start yelling at one another, orderlies rearrange Hunter’s limbs quicker on the chair. There’s a fire underneath their asses, that fire is knowledge. They know how to help him. Why didn’t I think of that? I could’ve just checked his sugar, and given him what he needed. It’s not like I didn’t know what to do, my Mom’s a diabetic.
My knees threaten to buckle as the could-have-beens crash over me. Adrenaline has left my body and I have the shakes. I see the security guard that reamed me out before come stomping my way. I shake my head at him, teeth chattering, body quivering.
God. Hunter could have died. What about Matty? What would have happened to him? And I wanted to run away, hide in my apartment. Fuck. What a coward. I disgust myself. And all the shit that my family’s ever said about me – about being useless, a coward, fat and disgusting. I nearly proved them right today.
I look down at Matty. His dark hair and bright blue eyes stare deep into mine like he understands all the crazy thoughts in my brain. Hell, maybe he does. Is that why he asked if Hunter was tired? Is that a code word for a sugar-low or -high?
He looks up at me, grabs a hold of my hand. “My Daddy’s gonna be okay. He always says so.” For his sake, I hope Hunter wasn’t lying. He has to be okay, if only for me to kick his giant sexy ass and kill him.
I nod at Matty, sniff back a wad of snot. I wipe my cheeks hard enough to make them smart, and get him in the car. I do as the security guard told me to do. I get out of the emergency drive-up reserved for ambulances and get a space, stuffing the slip in my purse.
Matty slips his hand in mine, giving my fingers a squeeze when I should be the one doing the comforting. With some sort of sick conviction, I end up believing the kid. Hunter’s going to be okay; he’s going to be okay.
***
“YOU!” I jump in my seat in the waiting room, dislodging Matty from my chest. The little guy wakes up with a sleepy snuffle, and a jaw-cracking yawn. A lady gets up in my face, invading my personal bubble with a stench of Burberry perfume, those huge Chanel glasses that make girls look like bugs, and a Louis Vuitton bag tucked in the corner of her elbow. She’s a walking advertisement for the size of her wallet.
“You little harlot! What have you done to my boy?” If the glasses weren’t covering half her face, I could probably tell that Hunter’s her son.
“And why are you holding my grandson? Give him to me!” Her she-claws are painted in papaya or some wacky color name like that, extended out like talons when her hands try to snake around Matty’s ribcage.
I’m struck dumb. I don’t know what to say or do.
“Grandmaaaaaaaa!” Matty whines, wiggling out of her grasp while throwing his arms around my neck, choking off my oxygen supply. The kid has chosen, lady. “Sera isn’t Daddy’s girlfriend,” Matty informs his grandmother. “She’s Wendy.”
“I’m Wendy?” I ask.
“She’s Wendy?” Grandma asks, those giants glasses of hers slipping down her nose. I want to laugh at her comments. Me? A slut? Lady, if only you knew.
Matty squeezes my neck tighter and puts his head on my shoulder, dismissing his grandmother. He falls asleep within a minute, his body going lax, his breathing fading out to slow and calm. I look up at his grandmother, too tired to deal with her bullshit.
“Hunter’s still in the monitored care section of the emergency. You can go see if he’s awake, if you like.” There. Olive branch. “He was asleep last time we checked.”
“How did you find him? Where did you find him?” The words are shot off like bullets from an automatic gun. I’m too tired for this. The loss of adrenaline has left me weak and starving. So I answer, thinking this is the best way to ditch her when I’m done.
“I came home from grocery shopping. He was sitting on the ground between our apartments. He looked out of it. I brought him here once I got Matty. And now we’re here.”
“You’re not having sex with my son? The way he trades-in his women has me wondering if you’re next on his list.” I do not miss the way those glasses track my body up and down, like I’ve been put under a microscope to examine. Who the hell keeps sunglasses on when you’re inside? Pretentious much?
I should say something like it’s none of your bloody business, or to piss her off, yes, I get it three times a night, thanks for asking. I do none of these things.
“I just live next door. Thought I would help him out. Nothing else.”
The lady looks satisfied. I just want to go home.
“Well, you can leave, now. I’m here. I’ll take care of my boy.”
Yes. This is a good plan. I want to go home and eat, anything to get out of this hospital. This lady is giving me a way out. So, why does it feel like running away? And besides, Matty’s wrapped around me, and I don’t want to wake him up by transferring him to his grandmother.
“I think I’ll stay. Besides, I need to watch after Matty. Make sure he gets some food in him.” The way her mouth twists up has me fighting a grin. “You’re more than welcome to join us.” I throw out as an afterthought just to be polite. I hope to hell she doesn’t want to come.
A hand claws its way up her throat. “Eat food? Here?” I might as well have invited her to dine with a colony of lepers. Bloody hell.
“We’ll see you in a bit, then.” I move to stand, wrapping my arms around Matty’s body, trying to minimize the amount of jostling he’ll experience. Grabbing my purse, I follow the signs for the cafeteria.
“Matty,” I whisper in his ear, feel his arms give me an unconscious squeeze in sleep. My heart flips over as I rub his back to wake him up. “Matty, we need to eat something.”
Lifting his head from my shoulder, he looks at me with blue eyes almost like his father’s. “Sera, I’m tired.” He yawns right in my face, being so adorable I can’t even take it.
“I know, buddy. We were hyped up before, and now we’re crashing. We’re gonna eat, and you’ll feel better. Promise. How’s a ham and cheese sandwich sound?”
I focus on nutrition. We need real food, as much as hospital cafeteria food will provide, not empty calories. I would put my name in the Goblet of Fire for a cup of coffee right about
now.
I grab an apple juice, a bottle of water. I add two ham and cheese sandwiches, a pasta salad with chopped veggies. A cup of coffee for me, black with three sugars. I add a large Styrofoam chicken soup that I think we can both share.
When I’m done paying, I let Matty choose the table, following his dark head to one in the corner. We tuck in. Matty’s got a hold of one triangle of his ham and cheese sandwich, still only two bites in when I wolfed mine down in a very unlady-like fashion.
I start sipping coffee, hoping to distract myself from my hunger. I would rather the little guy eats more than me. My body can eat the fat on my ass instead.
“Does your Dad get tired often, Matty?”
Still munching, he looks up at the ceiling, like the right answer’s written there. “Not every day as bad as today. Sometimes, he gets tired three, four, five times a day! And he’s always okay. That’s how I know he’s gonna be okay.”
I smirk, hoping the kid’s right. I can’t imagine his grandmother taking care of him if something were to happen to Hunter.
“How old are you, little man?”
He juts out his free hand, holding up four fingers. “Four!”
I make my eyes pop in surprise. “Four years old? I thought you were five! Wow. And you knew exactly what to tell the nurses about your Dad. I’m seriously impressed.”
“Daddy always makes sure I know what to say in case I have to call nine-one-one when he gets tired,” he tells me, taking another bite of his sandwich.
I wince. It totally sucks that the he has to know that. I can’t imagine how inadequate Hunter must feel, teaching his kid what to say and do if his life is ever in danger.
“If your Dad has to sleep here, do you want to stay with your grandmother tonight, Matty?” I open the soup, dunk a spoon in and try it. Yeah, it’s going to need about ten packets of salt. I start searching in my purse for some, noting that I’ll need to replenish my supply before we leave to go and see Hunter again. Salt and burn, baby.