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“But not much else,” he says and takes a bite of his own slice, then rubs at his temples. “Is there anything you want to watch?”
“Not really,” I say, “Just put one of those stupid dating shows on. Those are always fun.”
He groans but smiles and grabs the remote from the coffee table. He finds one from one of our streaming services and presses play. He grabs his head again, shutting his eyes quickly before opening them again. “We should plan a vacation at the end of the summer. Maybe just the two of us? Or even with Maddie and Elliot?” Hayden says. He gets up and walks to the kitchen, probably to get the Parmesan cheese. He always goes overkill with the Parmesan on his pizza.
“That would be fun,” I call with a smile.
“Damn, this has to be the worst headache I’ve ever had,” he says with a groan.
“Should I be worried?” I ask. “Maybe we should go get it checked out, just in case.”
“Nah, it’ll pass,” he answers. “Where would you want to go? For this vacation we’re currently planning. Do you want beachy or cabin-y?”
“Beach, always.”
“Duh. Of course.” He laughs. “Maybe Florida? Or even one of the Carolinas?”
“Yeah, I’m sure if we look now we can find something doable? But if we wait too long, everything will be booked.” I take a sip of my water. He walks back towards the couch holding his plate and the parmesan cheese, smiling at me. I smile back.
“We can—” Hayden stops mid sentence. I pause the pizza en route to my mouth and look up at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence. He’s staring ahead. His face isn’t quite blank, but it’s like he’s almost confused or thinking too hard, like he’s trying to process something. He looks frozen, glitching.
“Hayden?” I ask, laughing nervously. “What the hell are you doing?” No response. “Are you doing a bit? Because I don’t get it.”
His head doesn’t move, but his eyes flicker to me. Any expression that lingered on his face melts off slowly, replaced with a blank look. “Wh-what’s going on, are you okay, amor?” I ask, worried now.
He opens his mouth as if to say something but before he can, his head slowly falls back, his arms begin to lower and he collapses to the ground.
SIXTY-TWO
THEN, SUMMER, TWO YEARS AGO
I scream.
I jump up from the couch, sending my plate and drink flying somewhere as I leap to where he now lays unmoving on the ground a few feet away from me. I shake his shoulders.
“Hayden,” I yell. “Hayden,” I scream. No response. I touch his face, his eyes are staring blankly. I lean over him and grab his face in my hands and yank his head up to look at me, but his eyes seem to be unseeing. Those bright blue eyes that have seen into the depths of my soul, look lifeless. The life behind them looks…gone.
“HAYDEN!” I scream into his face while shaking him. My shaking fingers go to his neck looking for a pulse. It takes me forever to find the right spot because I can’t feel anything. “God, where is the freakin’ spot?” I yell. I grab his arm and pull his hand into mine, trying to check his wrist. Nothing.
“No, no, no, no, no,” I say. I scramble backwards and crawl to the couch looking for my phone. I find it and dial 911 with shaking hands. I run to my front door, swinging it open. “Help! Someone please help,” I yell, praying someone happens to be in the hall or close enough to hear me. No one answers. “Come on, come on, come on,” I yell into the phone.
“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator asks. I run back over to Hayden’s still body on our living room floor.
“My boyfriend. My boyfriend collapsed. I can’t find his pulse,” I say frantically, feeling like I can’t breathe.
“Where are you located?” she asks, and I tell her my address and apartment number. She asks a few questions to which I can barely answer, and then, “Are you able to perform CPR until the first responders get there?”
“Y-yes.”
“Can you tell if he’s breathing? Is his chest rising? Or put your ear against his chest, can you hear or feel anything?” she asks me and I quickly do what she says.
“No, no,” I cry, “there’s nothing! I can’t feel his heartbeat,” I choke out.
“Okay, put me on speaker and then start chest compression. Do you know how to do chest compressions?”
“Uh, yes. I’ve…I’ve never done it for real…only in a CPR class,” I say, my voice cracking. I put my phone on speaker and then I lean over Hayden, finding the spot on his chest where my hands go.
“Start the compressions, and if you’re comfortable enough to give two breaths, do that too. Try your best to stay calm right now. Paramedics are on their way.”
