by Garcia, Amy
And now she’s dead, killed in an accident with him, her last thoughts must be of him, her last visions of him. It’s fitting since she lived most of her life trying to fit into his life where there was no spot. He loved her, though. I can feel it, enough to pick her up off the street and encourage her to make something of herself. He is full of so much guilt and regret for manipulating her into loving him as more than a father and then smashing her hopes into smithereens. Just one of the demons haunting him from his past, and now he remembers them all.
How odd it must be to know you were such a monster but to not actually be that person anymore. I’ve got to stop, no more thinking. I’m getting up; it’s almost time for more meds anyway. I tense my shoulders and slowly turn to my back trying to shrink away from his heavy arm, he doesn’t move so I scoot out from under it and stand next to the bed stretching and waiting for my blood to flow to every numb area before I take a step and fall flat on my face from a limb that’s gone to sleep. I learned that lesson the hard way.
I have to pee so I pad into the bathroom and close the door leaving it open a crack. When I’m done, I have about fifteen or twenty minutes before his meds are due, I should go check on the kittens. I have no idea where they’ve been, surely they haven’t given them full reign of the house, and they could get lost and starve to death! When my hand turns the knob, I jump at the sound of Evans gruff voice.
“See why I need the handcuffs?” Dropping my head back and look at the ceiling I don’t turn to face him.
“I was coming right back.”
“That’s not the point, baby. I don’t want you to leave in the first place.”
“I had to go to the bathroom.”
“And you did, right before you almost took off again.” Now I turn to him.
“Where are the kittens?” I ask,
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I’m not! That’s where I was going, to find them. Why aren’t they in our room?”
“Cecelia grew fond of them while we were away; she wanted to keep them in her room for a night.”
“Oh.” Well, that solves that, but I still have an urge to be up and about.
“So if all of your curiosities have been satisfied you’re coming back to bed, right?” I flop my arms at my sides in frustration.
“I haven’t slept; I’m restless, and you need your meds.” I deflate, and he considers me thoughtfully.
“You need a vacation.”
“Huh?”
“A vacation, you’ve been working night and day taking care of me, cooped up in hospital rooms and bedrooms with nothing to stimulate your mind. I’ll have Isaac make plans.”
“You can’t travel yet, doctors’….”
“Yes yes, doctors’ orders.” He interrupts me “I’ve heard you say that before. Have you forgotten what we did a few hours ago right here in this bed? That was against doctors’ orders too, and I’m still alive.”
“Yea well we got lucky, and you were in pain after.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, baby,” he says while he sits up bending his knees and crossing his arms across the top of them. “I’ve had a headache for years, not a day has gone by that I haven’t had to deal with pain. So I’ll trade the pleasure of fucking you for a headache any day of the week.”
What am I supposed to say to that? “Yea but…”
“No buts, grab my meds and your sleeping pills. We need to rest up for our vacation. Chop chop!”
Fucking hell he’s manipulative. I stomp to the dresser and drop his pills into a med cup and shake mine into my hand before returning to bed.
“Can we take the kittens? On our vacation?” He drops me into a hot volcano of lust with his smirk and a wink, fuck.
“Of course, whatever you want, baby. The little furballs will go too.” Smiling I crawl across to him and pass him a bottle of water, we medicate, and we sleep. Mine is an empty dreamless and peaceful sleep but in the morning I can tell his wasn’t.
When I wake the next afternoon, the duvet is on the floor, and the sheets are a tangled mess around his legs. I’ve been left with no covers at all curled up in a ball in the center of the huge bed. Evan is sprawled everywhere, his forehead covered with a thin layer of perspiration one hand gripping the sheet even in his sleep. The sunlight glimmers off of the handcuffs still dangling from the headboard making me feel guilty for allowing things to get out of hand last night.
Now something’s wrong, I’ve never known him to have nightmares, or to be restless in his sleep. He wasn’t the best sleeper before but when he finally allowed himself to he slept undisturbed. I reach out to feel his forehead; he’s burning up and murmuring something, but I can’t understand him. I scurry off the bed and open the wardrobe for a sweatshirt and some jeans. When I’m dressed, I turn, and he’s moved to the center where I just abandoned my spot as if he sensed more space to fidget in.
“Evan, hey, can you open your eyes?” I kneel in the bed next to him getting no understandable response just senseless gibberish. Shit, I need a thermometer and some medical supplies so I can start an IV, and I need to call Dr. Carmichael. The mini hospital, it has everything I need, but I hate to leave him.
Grabbing my phone without a thought I automatically dial Isaac and as always he answers on the first ring. “Mia?”
“Isaac, where are you? Something is wrong with Evan, and I need some things to start an IV.” I say a little more frantically than I meant to.
“I’m here already. I know what you need, call the doctor and I’ll bring you the IV stuff.”
“Ok. Isaac?”
“Yea?”
“Hurry.” I hang up and go to the bathroom to soak some towels in cool water and return to pack them around his body. I have to get his temp down. I’m wringing out the water from the towels when I see Isaac in the reflection of the mirror, he breezes into the room with a duffle bag and dumps it on the bed, immediately scooping Evan under the shoulders and behind the knees he places him back on the pillows, so he’s propped up.
“Evan, Evan... open your eyes.” He gently shakes him and pats his cheek trying to get a response, but Evan only moans, his head lolls to one side.
“Here. He’s burning up put these on him.” I say bringing him wet towels. Isaac is completely focused on Evan not even glancing at or speaking to me he grabs the towels and places them on his legs, neck and under his arms.
I unzip the duffle and hand him a thermometer while I grab tubing and fluids for an IV. “104 degrees and his respirations are 110; he’s septic, Mia, we have to get him out of here.”
Shit! How could I let this happen? “Let’s start with this.” I hold up the IV bag “And then move him to his hospital set up downstairs and call Dr. Carmichael, I know he doesn’t want to go back to the hospital, if we have a chance to fix this here we have to try. Here’s my phone, look up the doctor and call him while I do this.”
“Ok. You sure Mia, we shouldn’t just call an ambulance?”
“No, I’m not sure but I know he’ll kill us both if we don’t try it here first.” He nods and steps back from the bed to make the call while I hang the bag of fluid from the bedpost, and I notice the handcuffs again, shit! There’s no way Isaac could have missed that, now he’s going to know Evan, and I have been pushing our limits, going against doctors’ orders, putting Evan’s life in danger.
Peeking over my shoulder I see Isaac’s attention is elsewhere, talking on the phone, so I take the opportunity to snatch the cuffs and stow them in the bedside table. Evan lifts his heavy eyelids open just a sliver and watches my movements absently, he most likely is hallucinating with a temp that high, so I speak in a soothing voice and tell him everything I’m doing.
“Hey baby, you’re sick, I’m gonna help ya out here a little until the doc gets here, ok?” A blank stare is all I get, but I continue with my monologue and he’s got an IV going and a dose of IV acetaminophen to help bring the fever down a little.
“We need to move him, I’ll go get a gurney and Mr. Saint to help, you should put the hand…” he glances at the headboard “Never mind.” Well, that answers that question, he saw the handcuffs, shit. It’s hard to read Isaac, I can’t tell if he’s hurt, worried, angry and if angry at who, Evan or me?
As usual I don’t have time to think about it any longer, we have work to do. By the time I’ve taken Evan’s blood pressure and pulse, put an oxygen mask on and hooked him up to a portable tank in the duffle, Isaac and Saint are at the door with a gurney followed by Cecelia who is in a panic. The men work efficiently together moving Evan, strapping him in and snapping the gurney up so they can push him through the door.
“What happened? He looks so sick.” Cecelia says wringing her hands together with worry. “He’s going to be fine; it’s a fever probably caused by an infection. The doctors are coming.” I rub my hand up and down her back trying to comfort her. Wave after wave of guilt pummels me like ocean waves during a storm; this is my fault. I should have been stronger, more insistent, more…domineering is the word that comes to mind after a long night of thoughts on that particular subject. It dawns on me that it wouldn’t have mattered what I did or said, he was going to do what he was going to do and if I hadn’t gone along with it, he would have figured out a way to make me, he’s a natural DOM.
I still feel guilty, but that realization eases it a little. Dr. Carmichael is waiting downstairs for us. Damn, that was quick! He couldn’t have been too far from the house to make it here in that time. He joins our parade toward the elevator and begins asking me questions, quizzing me on his activities, medications and any possible reasons for the infection. I admit he’s been overexerting but taking his meds and hasn’t had any signs of infection until his morning. The doctor hmm’s and nods his head listening to my assessment.
“He should be at the hospital, you know?” he says.
“Yes, I know,” I say
“He told me not to take him there unless he was two minutes from death though, did you know that’s what he wanted?” What? He never said anything like that to me!
“No, he didn’t. But I can’t say it surprises me, he hates hospitals.”
“Did you draw some blood for lab work?”
“Yes, yes when I started his IV, I’ve got them here somewhere.” I search the pockets of my sweatshirt for the tubes of blood and hand them over to him.
“Does he have any lab equipment?” Isaac answers for me
“He has everything you’ll need aside from a CT scanner.” Dr. Carmichael’s brows lift in surprise. “Impressive and obsessive.” That describes my husband perfectly in two simple words.
“You can say that again.”
The guys get Evan all situated in the hospital bed, where he should have been all along, and Dr. Carmichael starts working on his labs.
“You should call Gabriella and Simone, do you want me to?” Isaac asks and places his hand on the back of my neck, too intimately.
“No, I’ve got it, that’s ok.” I expect him to move away, but he doesn’t. Holding steadfast he makes no indication that he’s leaving or moving his hand. This wouldn’t bother me if I hadn’t been told just days ago that he was in love with me, we’re friends, and friends comfort each other in times of need, but it’s different now. I pull my phone from my sweatshirt and make the calls.
Gabby’s worried, she’s coming, but Simone is at work. How am I going to explain all of this? I mean it’s not my fault he’s developed an infection, but I do take some blame for not listening to the doctor when we left the hospital.
I take Evan’s hand and talk to him about nothing important, just mindless chatter. I feel like I’m not doing enough, but there isn’t anything to do until we know more. Isaac is called away by Mr. Saint, probably to tell him to knock it off with the touching. I can hear the loud clunk clunk of Dr. Carmichael’s cowboy boots as he approaches from behind me.
“When did you say he began to get sick, Mrs. Lawson.”
“Call me Mia, please. And he was ok around 4 a.m. when I gave him some pain meds and his other scheduled medications. But I took a sleeping pill and didn’t wake until this afternoon, and that’s when I found him like this.” I gesture toward my husband.
“That’s good, we caught it quickly, so far he doesn’t have any organs shutting down. His kidneys aren’t functioning as well as they should, has he been drinking plenty of water?”
Now that he asks, no, he hasn’t been drinking much at all, what a horrible nurse I am.
“Not really.” I’m ashamed that I haven’t been keeping better track of something so simple.
“It’s not your fault; he does what he wants, regardless of the consequences.” Now that sounds like he knows Evan better than I thought.
“Have you known him long?”
“Yes, I’m the one who initially found his tumor. I couldn’t remove it though, and I sent him on to other doctors who told him the same thing.” Ahh, that makes sense.
“So do you think he will be ok here instead of the hospital?” Evan fusses in the bed and I swear he says ‘no.' The doctor shakes his head, rolling his eyes at my husband’s incredible stubbornness.
“I think we can handle it here, I’ve called for the proper antibiotics, as soon as he has those I believe he will completely recover.” Evan raises his hand to try and remove the oxygen mask, but he’s too weak, his arm flops back to its place beside him.
“He’s too obstinate to die. I bet he outlives us all.” Harsh but true, the doctor doesn’t sugar coat things; I like that.
“I’d have to agree and I’m damn glad he’s such a fighter,” I say,
“He’s different now, he’s different with you.” I smile a weak grateful smile at his compliment.
“Are you feeling alright?”
“Me? Just tired.”
“Take care of yourself, God knows you have your hands full with him.” I snort in agreement. “I’ve left instructions on the counter for his IV antibiotics, something for pain and repeat labs. I trust you will be the one handling all of that?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Isaac has gone after the antibiotics, start them right away and keep me updated on his condition. I’m staying close by if you need me I can be here in a few minutes.”
“I noticed you got here fast, do you live close by?”
“No. Evan has me in a hotel.” He hired a neurosurgeon to be at his beck and call?! He never ceases to surprise me.
“Oh, well ok then.” He looks at me knowingly; he senses I’ve not been filled in on some things, some very important things. Always trying to keep me from worrying, we have to have a little talk when he’s feeling better.
“You can stay here in the house if you like, Dr. Carmichael, I know about your arrangement now, there’s no sense in your living out of a hotel, and we have everything you need here.”
“Ahh well…” I’ve surprised him with my offer, but I’d like to have him here actually. “I’d feel better if you stayed.” I give him my best damsel in distress eyes, and he agrees straight away.
As a nurse I’ve found doctors like to feel invaluable, most are a little egocentric and stroking their ego is the best way to manipulate them into agreeing with you.
“Of course, I’ll just go and collect my things and return.”
“Great! I’ll have Cecelia prepare you a room. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome; I’ll see you soon then.”
“Ok, bye.” He clunks to the elevator and presses the button. “You remember how to get out?” I ask,
“Oh yes, I’ve been here many times. I know my way out.” his words are laced with a sort of sorrow or regret, and I wonder why he’s been here often. Another mystery to unravel, will it ever end? The elevator dings and Dr. Carmichael is gone.
“Mia.” Evan croaks from behind me.
“Oh hey there, baby, I’m right here don’t worry. We’re getting you
all fixed up; you’re gonna be fine.” I take his hand and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. He’s not really with it; he must have just called out for me in his dazed state of mind. I caress his cheek and hold my hand there until he is still again, he feels a little cooler. How do we keep ending up here, one of us nursing the other back to health? I’m beginning to think it’s a curse; one of us must always be in crisis. The elevator doors open again and Cecelia and Isaac step out both with arms full, Cecelia’s with a tray of food and Isaac with new bags of IV fluid and antibiotics.
“Hey.” I greet them
“Hey, any change?” Isaac asks tossing me a bag to hang.
“He’s cooler but still out of it.” I stand and spike the bag right away, the sooner we start this, the sooner he’s better.
“I brought you something to eat, Mia.” Cecelia places the tray next to me on a table.”
“Oh, I hadn’t even thought to eat.” Actually my stomach is a little sour, and the smell of the food makes it churn and roll, God, I hate throwing up and now’s a really bad time. Maybe that’s why Dr. Carmichael was asking if I felt ok? Crap, I’ll bet I look like shit with my hair a mess from last night's activities, no makeup and in a sweatshirt and jeans. I wrinkle my nose at the food, and my mouth starts to water, no, no, no!
“Ms. Mia, are you ok?” Cecelia asks. I clasp my hand over my mouth pushing her aside rushing to the sink where bitter bile burns my throat and nose as I heave. I haven’t eaten in a long time; there’s nothing in my stomach to vomit.
God, now I really think we are cursed, but this time both ships are sinking. “Mia, shit, are you sick?” Isaac has hurried to my side and is holding my hair back while I pant and grip the counter waiting to be sure the retching is over. I feel a trickle of sweat run down between my shoulder blades and into the crack of my ass.
