When I reach the living room, I stop in my tracks. I close my eyes tightly and exhale slowly.
I walk over to Xavier’s limp body and press my fingers to his neck.
A light pulse.
Without a second thought, I pull out my phone and mutter, “You stupid son of a bitch.” I dial Bob and he answers almost right away, “What’s wrong?”
I nudge Xavier with the tip of my toe. “Oh, nothing. Just that Xavier is possibly overdosing and I can’t find Tomas.”
I flinch and pull the phone away as Bob roars, “Fuck!”
“What do I do?”
Bob answers a curt, “Put the ass**le on his side and monitor him till I get there. I’ll call an ambulance.”
I’m suddenly scared. “Bob…”
“If need be, I’ll petition for custody of Tomas.”
I close my eyes in relief. “Thank you.”
A pause. “You’re welcome, sweetie.” A sigh. “Make sure the dickhead doesn’t kill himself in the meantime. He owes me. And I’m going to collect.”
I’m almost scared to ask. But I don’t.
Instead, I do as I’m told, and wait for the ambulance.
Chapter Eighteen
The ambulance arrives just as Xavier begins to wake. The medics walk into the house as I kneel by his head and stroke his hair. As he looks up at me, he smiles distantly. “I like this dream.”
I scowl and knock a knuckle onto his forehead. “This isn’t a dream, bonehead. You were passed out cold. I couldn’t wake you so I called an ambulance.”
He blinks a moment before his eyes widen in fear. His body stiffens. “Where’s Tomas?”
I want to be cruel and tell him Tomas is dead. I want for him to have the life scared out of him so maybe he thinks hard the next time he picks up a needle, or joint, or even a bottle. Instead, I look down at him and mutter, “I couldn’t find him when I got here. He wasn’t in the house.”
He tries to sit up but I hold him down by the shoulders. One of the medics holds out a hand. “Easy there. You’re okay now.”
But he booms in panic, “Where the f**k is my brother?”
I stroke his forehead in a soothing gesture. “He’s okay. He was at the library. I called. Clark picked him up and they’re at the church.” My fingers pause. “By the way, Father Robert wants a word with you.”
The smaller male medic asks, “Sir, can you tell me if you’ve taken any non-prescription substances today?”
Xavier looks at the medic. His breathing heavies and his eyes dart back and forth. He looks up at me, distressed. “I couldn’t sleep. I just wanted to get some sleep. I was so tired.”
Running my thumbs down his temples, I ask, “Okay. What did you take to help you sleep?”
“I smoked some pot. That’s all. I swear.” From the pleading look in his eyes, I can tell he’s being honest.
The medics aren’t so convinced. They eye each other when one asks cautiously, “Sir, if you’ve taken anything else, we need to know about it. Anything we give you could have an adverse effect if you’ve taken something more. You need to be honest with us. No one here is judging you.”
Speak for yourself.
He doesn’t bother looking at them. He seems to only have eyes for me at this moment. “Nothing more, Cat. I swear.”
“I believe you.” He breathes a sigh of relief, but I don’t let him get away that easily. “But it’s not me you have to convince.”
A medic states, “Sir, we’d like to take you in, make sure all your vitals are normal—”
Xavier’s eyes flash. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m awake now. I’m fine. You can leave now.”
The other medic starts, “Sir, you have the right to refuse treatment, but for the sake of your own safety, I’d advise you to come with us-”
“No,” is said so harshly, I still.
The medics look to me for support. I suppose I should at least try. “Xavier, you worried me. For a second there, I was scared you were dead. Please let them look you over.”
He suddenly looks torn. After a moment’s contemplation, he utters to the medics, “You can look me over right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Stubborn mule of a man.
I watch the medics measure his blood pressure, shine lights into his eyes and ask him questions. As they’re packing up to leave, Xavier reaches out to touch my hand. Unconsciously, I move closer to his now seated position on the sofa. We look into each other a long while before he mutters, “You were scared.”
I don’t respond. I was more angry than scared. But, yes, I was scared. For a split second.
He continues, “If you were scared this time, how many other times has Tomas been scared? No wonder he was always so angry at me. If I die, he goes back into foster care. If he goes back into foster care, he’ll slip through the cracks of a system that would rather place him in an old folk’s home than provide home care for him.”
My eyes widen a little.
Oh Lord. I think it’s happened.
I think Xavier has finally had his epiphany.
A smile threatens to escape, but I urge it down. Now is not the time to celebrate. “Yes. If he loses you, he’s just another number in the system. He won’t have a face or name. He’ll just be another file.”
He grips my hand tighter. “I can’t let that happen. I won’t.”
I squeeze back. “Then fight for him.”
The medics are packed up and ready to leave. They try one last attempt to have Xavier come to the hospital. “Okay, well, if you don’t need us, we’re heading off. Nice to see you on your feet, son, but lay off the weed. I’d still like for you to come have a full exam…” Xavier is already shaking his head. The medic sighs, “All right then. Good luck to you, son.”
The ambulance leaves soon after. Xavier sits there, holding my hand, looking out the window. “I f**ked up. Again.”
I’m at war with myself. My emotions are confusing me. From wanting to beat the ever-loving shit out of him, I now want to comfort this mixed up man. “You’re allowed to f**k up every now and again. You’re only human. But you have to want to be a better person. Not just for Tomas, but for yourself, too.”
He blinks. His expression turns intense. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to be a better person. For me.” He turns to me. “I need to get Tomas.”