Max had kept true to his promise. The video of Zach raping Gabriela had been shared with the police. When I told Gabriela about it, she handled it calmly, glad to have concrete evidence. When I told her how she’d said “no” over and over again, it made her feel even better. Sort of the final nail in Zach’s coffin.
The campus was abuzz with the news of Zach’s arrest. Everyone seemed to know about what had happened with Emma. Some called me a hero; others secretly called me a narc. The only person who hadn’t said a word to me about any of it was Dylan.
By the second week, when I still hadn’t heard from him and hadn’t seen him on campus, I started to worry. I texted him, just to make sure he was okay, but he never responded. At first, I assumed he was just mad at me, but then, as the days dragged on, I started to worry. Two weeks to the day after we’d broken up, I finally decided to go to his apartment and check on him.
Rain fell halfway through the long walk there. I’d brought an umbrella, but the rain turned into a storm, and I arrived soaked and shivering at his door.
I heard the TV blaring, but no one answered when I knocked. I pounded on the door with my fist, calling his name, but he didn’t respond.
He’d given me a key to his apartment while we dated, and I’d never returned it. I pulled it out of my pocket, hoping I was doing the right thing. He might not be alone. He might have another girl in there. He might be as much of a slut as me. But he also might be hurt or sick. I took a deep breath, stuck the key in the lock and turned it.
“Dylan. It’s me. I’m opening your door.”
I opened it slowly. The room was dark, and the only light inside came from the television on the wall. An odd smell, something sour and nasty, like old food or rotting garbage, hit me making me wrinkle up my face in distaste. I covered my nose and mouth with my hand, and stepped into Dylan’s living room.
The room was covered in garbage and half-eaten bits of food. I stepped over a piece of pizza lying on the carpet and looked around in amazement. Dylan’s normally neat and tidy apartment had turned into an absolute pigsty.
I found the remote and shut off the TV, plunging the room into semi-darkness. I reached for a lamp on one of the end tables and noticed something on the couch as soon as I flicked it on. I stood there a full minute staring before I realized the lump on the couch was Dylan. I sank to my knees in shock.
“Dylan? Are you okay?”
Bundled under a blanket, his hair matted to his head, for just a second I thought he might be dead. Then he opened his eyes slowly. Painfully. They were sunken in his face and just the effort of lifting his eyelids seemed to exhaust him. He stared at me like he thought I wasn’t real.
“Sam.” His voice came out as a soft rasp, like the sound wind makes as it blows through bare trees. I barely heard him, and he looked so fragile. So frail. So unlike the Dylan I knew.
“What happened? Are you sick?”
He just stared at me with those dark, haunted eyes. I touched his head. He didn’t have a temperature, in fact he felt cold and clammy. I rested my hand against his cheek and he sighed.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I tried. For you.”
He closed his eyes, and his breathing became shallow and strange. I shook him, but he wouldn’t open his eyes again, no matter how hard I tried. I searched the room, found his phone sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch, and picked it up. Thankfully, it still had a bit of charge left. I knew his passcode, his brother’s birthday. I punched in the numbers and dialed his mom. She answered on the first ring.
“Dylan. Thank God. We were so worried—”
I interrupted her. “Mrs. Hunter. This is Sam. I’m at Dylan’s apartment. There’s something wrong with him.”
For just a moment, only dead silence greeted me and I thought we’d been disconnected. When she spoke, I recognized the thread of panic in her voice. It sounded just like my own.
“Tell me exactly what is going on.”
“He hadn’t answered my texts,” I said. I didn’t want to get into the whole break-up thing right now. It seemed pointless. “I came to his apartment to check on him. He’s on the couch, and he looks awful.”
“Is he awake?”
“No. I don’t think so. He spoke when I came in, but now he’s sleeping and he won’t wake up. I don’t know what to do.”
“Stay calm, Sam. I’m going to call an ambulance from the home phone.”
“Don’t hang up. Please.”
“I won’t hang up. I’ll call the ambulance and I’ll be right back.”
I sat on the floor next to Dylan, my entire body shaking. It took forever for Mrs. Hunter to get back on the phone. When she did, I heard Mr. Hunter in the background. It sounded like they were in their car.
“The ambulance is on its way, and we’ll meet you at the hospital. How is he?”
I stared at Dylan. His breath came out in short, little puffs. I checked his pulse. At first, I couldn’t even find it. I put my ear to his chest and heard the beat of his heart, but it seemed slower than usual and not quite as steady.
“He’s breathing, but it’s quick and shallow and his heart beat seems slow. What’s the matter with him?”
Mr. Hunter spoke next, his voice calm and reassuring. “Sam. Can you go to his medicine cabinet and tell me what you see?”
“I’m afraid to leave him…”
“It’s important, sweetheart.”
I stumbled to the bathroom and gasped. His medicine cabinet was completely empty.
“There is nothing in here. No bottles, no medicine, nothing.”
Mrs. Hunter started crying. I heard her soft sobs. They had me on speakerphone.
Mr. Hunter’s voice shook. “Look around. Can you find anything?”
“I don’t know…” I pulled open drawers and cupboards. I lifted dirty towels and clothes off the floor. Finally, I opened the lid to the garbage. It was full to the brim. “They’re in the garbage, but I don’t see any pills. Did he overdose?”
I ran back to Dylan’s side. He looked so still and thin and pale. I touched him to reassure myself he was still breathing.
“I don’t think he took the pills. I think he flushed them. He didn’t like how they made him feel. He’s done this before.”
I rested my forehead against Dylan’s clammy one. “Why? They made him better. He told me. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Mental illness isn’t logical. Dylan understood that, but he couldn’t…” Mr. Hunter struggled to compose himself. “It’s harder than you think.”
I heard the whine of the ambulance outside. “It’s here. The ambulance is here. I hear it.”
“Thank you for staying with him,” said Mrs. Hunter, her voice thick with tears.
The phone was still on, but I put it down on the coffee table so I could hold Dylan in my arms. “Don’t worry, Dylan. Help is on the way. They’re almost here. You’re going to be okay.”
I held him until the EMTs arrived. They seemed to know his history and didn’t ask me too many questions. They asked about the medications he took, so I grabbed the garbage can from the bathroom and brought it out to them. The EMTs had obviously seen a lot, but even they seemed shocked by the amount of medicine prescribed to him. I held Dylan’s cold hand as they brought him out to the ambulance, and then climbed inside to sit next to him. The ride to the hospital took only minutes, but Dylan looked even worse in the bright lights inside the ambulance. His skin pulled tightly against his cheekbones and his color was awful. He looked like a corpse. It was hard to believe only a few weeks ago he’d made me picnic lunches and kissed me in the sunshine. He’d turned into the shell of the boy he’d once been.
I held it together until we got to the hospital and the doctors whisked Dylan away. I sat on a hard plastic chair alone and watched as the nurses rushed in and out, speaking in hushed voices. It wasn’t until Mr. and Mrs. Hunter walked in and I saw their faces that I dissolved into a shaking heap and nearly collapsed.
Mrs. Hunter gathered me in
to a hug. “Thank you for taking care of him.”
That was nearly my undoing. I shook my head. “I should have checked on him sooner. I should have known something was wrong.”
She shushed me. “There is no way you could have known. Dylan is a master at disguising it. He even had us fooled this time.”
She went to talk to the doctor with Mr. Hunter. I sat on my chair and waited, hugging my arms tightly around my waist, still shaking. A nurse brought me a blanket and asked if I was okay. I didn’t know how to answer that question.
Suddenly, my throat closed up and I couldn’t inhale. I looked up at the nurse as panic spread through my chest, trembling as I gasped for air. I thought I was going to die, and the panic made my lungs tighten even more.
The nurse reacted very calmly. She sat down next to me, made me put my face between my knees, and gently patted my back. She talked me through it, reassuring me that soon everything would be okay. She promised I would be able to breathe normally as soon as I relaxed, and I believed her. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the agonizing pain eased and I calmed down. As soon as it happened, as soon as the first sweet breath of air filled my lungs, I started to sob.
“What was that?” I asked. “I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was going to die.”
“Just a little anxiety attack,” she said. “Understandable, considering the circumstances.”
“That’s never happened to me before.”
“It’s especially scary the first time,” she said softly. “Sometimes just worrying about the possibility of one happening is enough to trigger it. You have to try to stay calm and breathe your way through it.”
“Thank you for helping me.”
She smiled. “That’s what I’m here for.”
Much later, Mr. Hunter emerged from Dylan’s room. He looked about ten years older than he had when he went in.
He sank into the chair next to me. “Is he going to be okay?” I asked.
“I hope so.”
“Is this how it was last time?”
He looked at me, his face tired. “He told you about last year?”
I nodded. “He said it was bad.”
“It was. There were a few times I really thought we were going to lose him, but somehow he pulled through. This time is a little different, though. It seems like it’s progressed more quickly.”
“But he’ll just take his medicine and he’ll be fine, right?”
“If only it were that simple. The brain is a tricky thing, Sam. We just can’t know for sure what will happen.”
Mr. Hunter drove me home. I wanted to take a cab, but he insisted. Mrs. Hunter stayed with Dylan, and Mr. Hunter told me over and over again how grateful they were I’d found Dylan and called them right away.
“You may have saved his life. We’re forever in your debt, young lady.”
I stepped out of his car, feeling like a total fraud. I didn’t save his life. I was the reason he was messed up in the first place.
I called Bethany, and she and Gabriela came over right away. We sat in my room and I sobbed as I told them everything. About Dylan. About Max. All of it.
They held me and patted my back and made soothing noises until I calmed down. Then Bethany spoke.
“You can’t blame yourself.”
I looked up at her, my eyes swollen from crying. “Then who is to blame?”
I grabbed a tissue and blew my nose, hiccupping with residual tears. I was even more horrible than I’d thought. I was a slut and almost a murderer.
Bethany took my hand. “If Dylan had cancer, would it be your fault?”
“Uh, no, but this isn’t cancer.”
“It’s a disease. You didn’t cause it. You didn’t make it worse.”
“Sorry, but I don’t buy that. This happened two weeks to the day after we broke up.”
“He broke up with you, Sam,” said Gabriela softly.
“I pushed him into it. I didn’t love him.” This brought a fresh rush of tears. “And he knew it. He figured it out that night. What if he saw that video of me with Max? I made him do this.”
“Did you make him drink? Did you make him smoke pot? Did you make him throw away his medicine?” Bethany stared at me, demanding a response.
I frowned. “I hurt him. Badly.”
“Maybe, but you didn’t cause any of this. It started long before you even knew him.”
They stayed with me that night. They pulled out the futon I kept rolled up under my bed and slept on the floor next to me. I tossed and turned all night, waiting to hear from Mrs. Hunter, but terrified she might call with bad news. I finally gave up and called her at around seven in the morning. I had to know what was going on.
“Sam?”
“I’m sorry to call so early…”
“It’s fine. We were just getting some coffee.”
“How is he?”
“About the same.”
“Can I come and visit him today?”
There was a long pause. “Dylan spoke with us last night. Just a little. He said he didn’t want you to come.”
“Oh.” My heart sank down to my toes and tears pricked behind my eyes, threatening to fall.
“He doesn’t want you to see him like this.”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “Can you keep in touch and let me know how he’s doing?”
“I will. After they get him stabilized, he’ll be transferred to a facility a little closer to our house. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.”
“When will they move him?”
“Tomorrow, or maybe the day after.”
I hung up the phone and leaned against the wall. As much as Mrs. Hunter tried to spare me from the truth, I knew exactly what was going on. Dylan didn’t want to see me. I didn’t blame him.
I punched in Max’s number and when he answered he sounded half asleep. I told him what happened and he snapped into full consciousness.
“It’s not your fault, Sam.”
“Yeah. Everybody keeps telling me that, but I’m having a little trouble believing it.”
“He’s had problems for a long time.”
“But he was doing better, and now he’s worse.” I let out a shaky breath. “He doesn’t want me to go to the hospital. Can you and Greg go? It might help him if his friends were there.”
“We’ll go in a few hours, as soon as the hospital allows visitors.”
I went back to my bed and curled up into a ball. Gabriela and Bethany were still sound asleep on the floor. I played out every memory I had of Dylan in my mind, trying to figure out what I could have done differently, where I went wrong. There was a lot.
I’d been selfish to get involved with him in the first place. I played into the fantasy that we might have a future together when I knew it probably would never happen. I dated him for all the wrong reasons. Because I was bored. Because he was handsome. Because he made me feel special.
I should never have told him I loved him until it was true.
It was never about him. It was all about me: my desires and my insecurities. I’d used him in the worst way possible, and I hated myself for it.
After Gabriela and Bethany left, I decided to clean my room, starting at the door and moving in a clockwise direction. As I gathered my backpack off the floor, a bunch of notecards fell out of the side pockets. My kanji cards. I’d made them with Hana ages ago.
I put them neatly into a pile, and then noticed two cards had fallen off to the side and were stuck in the corner of my chair. I picked them up, and when I saw what was on the cards, my knees gave out and I sank down to the floor.
The first card was the kanji for shi, number four. One of the first ones I’d ever learned. The other was harder, more advanced. More intricate, and more difficult to write, but it sounded exactly the same. The second was shi as in shinderu. Death.
I heard Dr. Tanaka’s words as soft as a whisper in my head. She’d told me number four was unlucky. I should have listened.
Number fou
r means death.
I picked up my cell phone with a shaking hand and called Max. He and Greg were about to leave for the hospital.
“I’m coming with you,” I said, and then hung up the phone.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
My shoes squeaked as I walked down the long hallway to Dylan’s room. I’d never been in a psych ward before, and my gaze shot back and forth, trying to take everything in while trying not to stare. Elderly patients, sick with Alzheimer’s, sat in wheelchairs talking with people who probably no longer existed. Young people with vacant eyes and drool hanging from their lips stared at me as I walked past. I tripped, eliciting a sharp bark of laughter from one of the Alzheimer’s patients.
When I told the Hunters I wanted to see him, they’d reluctantly agreed. They met us in the lobby, looking older and more tired than I remembered. Jake stood off to the side, his hands shoved into his pockets. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. I saw the accusation in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry. I had to come. I had to see him.”
Mrs. Hunter pulled me into a hug. “We’re glad you’re here, Sam. I think it’ll be a good thing for him to see you. I want to warn you about something, though. He might not wake up. Even if his eyes are open, it’ll probably seem like he’s not looking at you. Like he’s….somewhere far away.”
I thought about her words as I walked down that hallway. Max and Greg stayed with the Hunters. I was half scared and half relieved. As much as I didn’t want to do this alone, having Max by my side could make things worse. It might be just the thing to push Dylan right over the edge. I took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly.
The nurse leading me to Dylan’s room gave me a little smile. Her badge said, “Nurse Candy.”
“Is it your first time here, honey?”
I nodded, feeling an unexpected tightness in my throat. “My boyfriend…I mean my ex-boyfriend…” My eyes filled with tears and I wiped them away with the back of my hand. “He’s here.”
Nurse Candy’s dark eyes were kind. Her hair, a complicated maze of salt and pepper braids piled high on her head, made her seem almost regal; like the braids were a crown and she was the queen. That almost made me giggle. The Queen of the Crazy Floor. She gave me a sympathetic look.
Saying Goodbye, Part One (Passports and Promises Book 1) Page 16
