A little smile pulled at the corner of his lips, and he motioned to his throat.
“I know, it hurts. Don’t talk. Did they tell you what’s going on?”
He nodded weakly and started coughing. When he calmed down I pushed the phone and charger into his hand. “This is my work phone. I plugged in my personal number. I want you to use it to communicate with me. When you’re better and ready to get out of here let me know, and I’ll pick you up. Can you do that?”
He squeezed the phone, glanced at it, and let his head fall back against the pillow as if he had no strength left. He offered me a thumbs up.
“Good. I need to go home and get some sleep because I have work tonight. Rest. Concentrate on getting better, amirite?” I got to the privacy curtain and stilled. “You know, I kind of like this silent version of you. It gives my ears a rest from the irritating buzz of your voice.”
He gave me a weak thumbs down then pointed at me as if to say,just you wait.
And I totally would.
CHAPTER FIVE
MATTEO
I was aware I was in the hospital and if I didn’t feel like I was in death’s torture chamber, I would have worried more about what it might mean for my situation. But I’d given the nurses a semi-fake name and little else. It was easy pretending not to be able to communicate with them when my throat hurt too much to speak, and I was too exhausted to write anything down. It wasn’t like they’d just dump me on the street and if it came to it, I could always contact Mr. Salvatore. From my understanding, Nana had left him a sizable retainer to ensure I was taken care of.
I glanced at the phone Pooh Bear had given me and was surprised to find that it was after three in the afternoon. But was it the next day?Twodays later? The disorientation was throwing me for a loop.
The window to my left let me know it was cold and gray outside. I craned my head around, taking in the I.V pole and the multiple bags pumping medicine into my system, with all the bells and bobs on the machine. It was still very hard to breathe, but the oxygen was helping.
It took me a good five minutes to enter my message into the textbox, my fingers weak and uncoordinated.
ME: Hey. Still alive.
I conked out again. A nurse came by to change the bags and check my vitals, but I barely registered anything other than the fire in my throat and the stickiness in my lungs. To soothe myself, I recalled my favorite classical pieces, but only got a few notes in before sleep claimed me. When I awoke again, it was almost seven and Pooh Bear had responded.
SEAN: You’ll be fine. They’ve got what U need and R something of experts.
The text brought a smile to my lips, but I wasn’t sure why. At first, it had been annoying being thrown out of the club and having my fake I.Ds confiscated. Those things weren’t cheap and replacing them on my budget was difficult. But I quickly came to enjoy our tongue-sparring. He was hot and gruff and everything I wanted in a man. At least, physically. It seemed I had a thing for ginger bears with soft-looking beards and playful eyes. He was total Daddy material and the way I figured, the experience of older men was golden.
A nurse came in with a tray of food and set it on the table. She adjusted it and pushed it over my bed. “Hello, Matt. I’m Laticia. Feeling any better?”
I touched my throat.
“I know, strep is terrible. I’ve got some broth for you that I need you to try to get down, okay? You were quite dehydrated when they brought you in and we need to keep your levels up. I also need you to swallow this decongestant. It’s going to help clear up the pneumonia.”
She set a disposable cup with a pill inside it next to my tray and stuck a thin straw into a box of apple juice. I looked at the steaming mug of broth miserably, knowing I was in for a world of hurt. I’d lucked out as a child, having only gotten sick a handful of times and most of my bouts with the flu had been relatively mild. I’d never gotten chicken pox or mono, or anything like that. I supposed I was making up for it now.
I offered her a thumbs up and she wandered off.
I stared at the meager meal for long minutes and decided to get it over with. I removed my oxygen mask and sipped at the broth, the heat nice, but the ache of my throat muscles moving sent a shock of pain through me. I tried again, hoping the continued use would desensitize my throat, but it only seemed tomake it worse. It took a lot of effort to swallow the pill and finish the juice box, but I did it.
I looked out the window, the sky pitch black, the peach illumination of a streetlamp casting shadows on the wall. I pulled up the text conversation with Sean and sent over another message.
ME:My name is Matteo, btw.
As I waited for him to respond, I tracked down his Facebook page. Sean McCarthy, thirty-seven, and employed with the Adonis. There wasn’t a whole lot of activity, but he occasionally posted photos with groups of varying men, some more frequent than others. I wondered if one of them was his boyfriend. The last time he’d posted was back in October to announce a fundraiser.
SEAN:I think brat fits better.
A little laugh bubbled up that started a thorough coughing spell. My throat screamed in agony and phlegm gurgled in my lungs. With a sniffle, I curled into a ball and passed out, emotionally raw from where life had taken me.
It was hard sleeping more than an hour at a time, my achy throat and saturated lungs reaching through the darkness. I focused on “Arabesque No. 1”,tapping my fingers on the hospital bed, hearing the sweet notes in my mind and longing for the day when I could play again, next to a sunshine-lit window.
It was almost midnight when I sent a response to Pooh Bear.
