Another shudder racks Evgeny’s body, and I tense to get to my feet and go to him when he shoves himself up. His jerky movements knock over half the items on the table. They crash to the floor with a terrible noise.
“Evgeny, tell me what’s going on,” I demand, my tone sharp with alarm.
But he doesn’t rebuke me. Instead, he stumbles to the door, staggering out into the cool night air, and collapses.
Screams erupt from the people on the sidewalk. I ignore them, my pulse pounding in my ears as I drop to my knees beside Evgeny’s quivering form.
“Evgeny? Evgeny? Evgeny!” I shove at him, panic adding force to my movements.
But he doesn’t respond, his chest rising and falling in short, jerky breaths. All the color has drained from his face, and his lips look blue under the streetlights.
“Someone call 911!” I scream. “Hurry!”
19
EVA
“Idon’t know what’s wrong with him. He just collapsed.”
I’m trying not to have a panic attack. I huddle in the back corner of the ambulance while the EMTs work to stabilize Evgeny. The siren wails, too loud even in here.
“Just collapsed?” Dmitri roars on the other end of the line, and I cringe. “Evgeny doesn’t just collapse, Eva!”
“I told you everything I told the EMTs?—”
“Is he allergic to anything?” one of the EMTs asks. She squeezes the ventilation bag while the other EMT darts around the cramped interior, checking lines and equipment.
“They want to know if he’s allergic to anything,” I tell Dmitri.
“No, nothing,” he bit out. “Take him to Cedars-Sinai. His doctor is there. I’ll call him now.”
“Not allergic to anything,” I echo. “Take him to Cedars-Sinai. His doctor?—”
“No.” The EMT working the bag cuts me off. “Too far. We’re taking him to Providence.”
“Too far?” My words come out barely a whisper, and I swallow back the swell of fear.
“What’s too far?” Dmitri demands.
“Cedars-Sinai. They’re taking him to Providence.”
“Fuck.” Dmitri grasps the seriousness of the situation. “I’ll meet you there. Don’t tell them anything until I’m there.”
The line goes dead, and I wrap my arms around myself, rocking back and forth for comfort like I have since I was a kid.
I look at Evgeny’s face, ghostly pale under the mask and the harsh ambulance lights. The EMTs keep working on him, and all I can do is sit there and feel helpless.
And scared. More scared than I’ve been in a long time.
Chaos explodes as the ambulance pulls up to the ER. The medical team is there to meet us. They rush Evgeny inside, calling out to each other in rapid English I can’t fully comprehend at the moment, slews of medical terminology and acronyms leaving their mouths. All I know is that his blood pressure is dangerously low, his heart rate dangerously high, and he’s in respiratory failure.
My heels tap on the linoleum, then slow and stop as they wheel Evgeny’s stretcher through the automatic double doors. I can’t go with him.
I stand in the hallway, my mind a whirling blank, staring at the closed doors until a nurse takes pity on me and guides me to thewaiting room. I’m so lost in shock that she has to push me down into the chair.
When she brings me a cup of water, I drain it, whispering a thank-you for her kindness.
“Your boyfriend back there?” she asks.
