“Okay, one moment.” The receptionist’s fingers fly across the keyboard. “Here he is. But he’s not in the ER. They’ve taken him up to the ICU.” She takes a pad of paper and scribbles on it before giving it to me. “Room five thirty-three. Take these elevators to the fifth floor then make a right, you’ll have to go down a long hallway then turn to the right to get to the ICU. There’re signs.”
I grab the paper and turn for the elevators, bumping straight into Nikolai’s chest.
“Slow down, you’re going to get yourself hurt and then end up here too.” He slides his hand down my arm and laces his fingers through mine. “If he’s in the ICU that has to mean he’s not in immediate danger. Let’s go see him, but no more running.”
He’s talking slow, like I’m a small child in the middle of a temper tantrum. I take a steady breath. I’m running on emotion, and that won’t get me anywhere. I need to calm the hell down and think. Take one moment at a time. Right now, I’m going to focus on Mark.
It’s a long haul from the ER to the ICU, but we finally find the ward and check with the desk. They bring me to Mark’s room and because the curtain isn’t drawn, I see him from the hallway through windows. My breath catches in my chest.
“He’s on a breathing tube.” I let go of Nikolai’s hand and hurry into the room.
“He was having a hard time breathing on his own. The doctors don’t think it will be needed for long, but they need to see what sort of damage has been done to his lungs from the smoke. We have nothing on him on file, do you know if he has a do not resuscitate order? Or family we can call?” his nurse asks, as she enters his room right after us.
I’m staring down at my father’s oldest friend. The last link I have to my parents. Besides the IV in his arm, there are wires coming out of the gown from his chest. The breathing tube makes his chest rise and fall. His left cheek has a large bruise.
“He probably got that when he fell,” the nurse explains when I reach over to touch it.
I nod, then pull my hand back.
“Family?” the nurse prods.
“No.” I shake my head. “His wife died seven years ago. He didn’t have children.” We were like his children. Me and Oliver. And now, he’s lying here in this bed because he was in our family’s deli. My chest twists into an unbearable knot.
“Do you know if he has insurance? We didn’t see anything in his wallet.”
I flick away a lone tear and fold my arms over my chest. “He uses the VA. He was an infantryman in Vietnam.” I feel like I need to say that. I need her to understand he’s a tough man, and he’s not going to give up without a fight. “I think he does have a living will. I can go to his apartment and find it.”
“I’ll get that taken care of.” Nikolai digs out his phone. Putting it to his ear, he steps into the hall. I watch him, giving orders, sending his men to take care of this for me.
“Is he in a coma?” I ask.
“He’s been heavily sedated to make the intubation easier for him,” the nurse explains. Her beeper dings and she pulls it from her pocket. “I’m sorry, I have to deal with this. He’s going to be asleep for a long while. The visiting hours end at seven.”
“She’ll be here as long as she needs.” Nikolai enters the room again. The nurse doesn’t bother arguing with him. Smart woman.
With her gone, I drag the only chair in the room to Mark’s bedside and sink into it. Lifting his hand into mine, I suck in a long breath.
“I’m so sorry, Mark,” I say. “I’m so sorry.”