“Start them now…” The operator’s voice sounded like white noise. She was no good to me, wherever she was. Hugo needed someone here. Now.
I bit my lip when Drew started pressing down on Hugo’s chest. It looked too rough. He was pushing too hard. “Have you done that before?” I tried to stop myself, but the words fell out anyway.
“Have you?” Drew barked with a glower that knocked me back on my heels.
“You’re doing great,” said the crackling voice. “The ambulance is just a few minutes away. Ten more.” She counted with him.
A few minutes… It had to have been an hour already. That’s what it felt like. Ten. “Now what?” Nothing was happening. Hugo hadn’t moved. “Hugo, come on!” I tugged on his hand, squeezed it tight. I cried and I begged and I cursed him. I didn’t even notice Drew blowing into Hugo’s mouth until he was already pulling away. He returned, immediately, to Hugo’s chest. Hands clamped, arms taut. Push…push…push…push…
“That’s brilliant. Help is almost there. Can you feel a pulse yet?” I hated this woman. It wasn’t brilliant. Hugo wasn’t fucking moving!
Drew wiped the wetness off his cheek on the back of his hand before feeling Hugo’s neck. “No,” he said, entire body sagging. “Nothing. But…there’s stuff on his mouth. F-foamy stuff.”
“That’s okay. Just wipe it off and give another two breaths. It’s all right to breathe through that foam if it keeps coming. You won’t hurt him. Do it now.”
Our gazes met for the briefest of seconds before he went down, our eyes red and puffy, noses swollen and snotty. I nodded at Drew, offering my faith, my thanks, my grief. In that single, tiny millisecond, Drew Holland and I became the very definition of kindred spirits.
“Whoa, whoa…” Drew pulled away from Hugo’s mouth. “He’s throwing up!” he yelled at the phone. Instinct told him to roll Hugo onto his side. “Is-is that good? Come on, Hu. That’s it.”
“Can you feel a pulse?”
Rolling Hugo had ripped his hand out of mine. I was lost now, served no purpose whatsoever other than to watch the contents of Hugo’s stomach exit his lips in short, jagged spurts. I was afraid to touch him, injure him…feel him as he left me.
“Paramedics are here!” someone yelled and, suddenly, I felt weightless. Dizzy. Like I’d left the earth’s atmosphere. I started falling sideways, managed to catch myself before I hit the floor. The ambulance crew, armed with their big bags, barked some orders I didn’t listen to and the crowd scattered like ants chasing a drop of syrup. I used my hands to shuffle back on my bum, give them room to work, but I wasn’t really watching. I couldn’t hear what they said, see what they did. The whole thing seemed dreamlike. Hazy. The scene played out in slow motion.
“Let’s do a fluids run up and get him on oxygen.” It sounded like something out of a TV show. I wasn’t sure if it was really happening or I’d drunk too much and was hallucinating.
I heard more scuffling, high heels clacking against the tiles. Looking up, people were moving again, this time being herded out of the room like sheep, by Ezra. “Now! Everybody, out! And nobody leaves this house until all phones, cameras and devices have been checked!”
Ezra yelled some more. I stopped listening.
“Can you tell me what he’s taken?” asked the face that appeared right in front of mine.
I blinked her into focus. She looked kind. Compassionate. Just the right type of person to tell someone the love of their life had gone forever.
“It’s okay.” I watched her hand reach for my shoulder, again, slow motion. “He’s breathing. My colleagues and I are taking him away soon. You can come if you like?”
“Um…” Breathing? “He’s…I mean, yes. Yes, thank you.” I was glad I’d remembered to rub at my arms. Sitting here in wet clothes, I’d started to shiver. That reminded me of my wet hair. It clung to my face. I ran my fingers through it, combed it back. So…how was I still rubbing my arm?
I looked down, followed the fingers, the wrist, the tanned arm… Chrissie. “Oh, God, Chrissie.” I fell into her, fell apart completely.
“No, no, no.” She gripped my arms, pushed me up. “You don’t have time to crumble yet, babe. Come on. You can do this. Tell this lady here what she needs.”
Shit. Right. “God. Sorry. Okay. Right.”
“No problem,” the technician with the kind eyes said. “You’re doing great.” They seemed to like that phrase.
In that moment I saw Hugo being slid onto a board in the background. “His neck.” I pointed towards the collar they’d strapped to him as they lifted him up onto a trolley. “What’s wrong with his neck?”
“Precaution, that’s all. Now, do you know what he’s taken?”
“Uh…” Right. Yes. Focus. “Everything in his cabinet. His antidepressants, old and new ones. Some sleeping pills, I think. I…I don’t know if there’s anything else. I-I didn’t inspect everything. He could’ve had stuff hidden elsewhere. God, I don’t…I don’t know.”