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The line goes dead.
My stomach sinks, full of dread. I feel my heart stutter and race, trying to pump blood to my starving brain—starving because I’m holding my breath.
My phone has fallen to the bed but I pick it up and call Ben.
Like Laura said, it goes straight to voicemail and all I hear is Ben’s cheery voicemail. “Hey, it’s me. Ben. I’m not able to answer my phone right now, but don’t worry, I’m a doctor so I’m probably just saving lives. I’ll call you back later.”
I try again.
And again.
And again.
I’ve never been so desperate in my life.
I know, logically, it’s probably nothing. Laura probably had a critical come in and it was bad, and she had to go. It means nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Then why am I freaking out so bad?
My phone rings again, and it’s Laura. I breathe out a sigh of relief. She probably realized what it sounded like and she’s calling to tell me not to be crazy.
“Laura?” She sniffles in response. “Laura?” I say again, the unease creeping back in me.
“It’s Ben.” Her voice cracks. “They brought Ben in.”
“W-What do you mean?” I stutter, even though I do. I have to hear her say it, though.
“It’s bad, Blaire. He got hit by a drunk driver or something, I don’t know the details yet. They rushed him back to emergency surgery, but … ”
“But?” I can barely utter the word. I’m holding on so tight to my phone that I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter in my hand. I think I’m unconsciously using it to hold myself together.
“I’m not going to lie, it’s bad, Blaire. Really bad. You should get here.”
At her words, I crumble and the sobs break through. “I don’t know if I can drive,” I tell her with honesty.
“I’ll call a cab for you,” she says, and her own distress is palpable. “And Blaire?”
“Yeah?”
“I know this means shit, but I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” I mumble and hang up the phone. I immediately run to my closet and pull on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. I slip my feet into a pair of flats when I hear a horn honk outside. That was fast.
I grab my phone and purse and dash outside into the waiting car. They already know to take me to the hospital so I don’t have to say a word.
I know I have to call Ben’s mom, so I force my frozen fingers to move over my phone and find her information.
I’m surprised by how quickly she answers, but I guess most people assume a late night call is an emergency.
“Blaire?” she asks. “Is everything okay?”
Another sob breaks through my lips. I keep seeing Ben lying broken and bloody on the side of a road, waiting for someone to help him and it’s killing me. I know he’s at the hospital now, but what about before.
