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Time stands still. For the first time in my life, I feel like the two steps that separate me from the man in front of me are endless. The moments it takes me to reach him and kneel next to him seem eternal. His lips are slightly parted, his eyes linger on mine, and all the fury that deformed his perfect features disappears. There is only disbelief on his face. Not fear, not pain, just a surprised look as he lies on the damp planks of the pier, our entire existence collapsing around me. I try to pronounce his name, but when I open my lips, nothing comes out. With my eyes fixed on his, I squeeze his hand while Aaron’s voice reaches my ears, muffled. I can’t understand what he’s saying because all my attention is on Evan, lying on the ground with an incredulous look, wheezing. I look at him, and I think I would give my life to see him get up, but he doesn’t move. He remains still, looking at me while I desperately try to discern what is happening to him.
I’ve always hated hospitals. The plain walls, the smell of disinfectant, and the silence interrupted only by the sound of monitors attached to patients. They’re oppressive. Maybe because the last time I was in one, I didn’t know if Michael would come out alive, and I still have nightmares about the desperation on my friends’ faces that night.
At least Emily and Aaron, here next to my bed, are not so heartbroken. There is the worry, of course, but not despair. I make a fist, and the swollen and broken knuckles hurt. I don’t know if my father is hospitalized in this same place, but I think if I knew the room number, I would finish the work I started on that boat. At the mere thought of his filthy hands on her, my heart begins to hammer against my chest, pumping the anger I manage to control a bit, and thebeepof the equipment connected to my chest starts to accelerate. Emily and Aaron’s heads snap in my direction.
Laying my eyes on her sends my heart on a rampage, and the beeping becomes increasingly insistent, sounding like an alarm. They get up from the plastic chairs they’re sitting on and approach the bed as if I’m going to die. It’s her fault I ended up in a hospital bed with wires stuck to my chest andnowshe cares about me? She didn’t even think about it before accepting my father’s proposal and stomping on my heart like gum stuck to a sidewalk. It’s not enough to see her frightened face to forgive her. Her worries don’t erase the fact that she betrayed me.
“If you keep working yourself up like this, I’ll be forced to ask your friends to leave.” The cardiologist who saw me when I arrived at the hospital grabs my attention as he enters the door with a folder in his hand.
Aaron had called and picked him up in his private helicopter. He wasn’t on duty, and I don’t think he even works in this hospital. But money can buy everything in this world.
“That’s not such a bad idea,” I mumble. A guilty look appears on Emily’s face and a reprimand on my brother’s.
“If you’ll excuse me, we need to discuss the patient’s medical condition.” The doctor, who is around my brother’s age, nods toward the door of the private room where I have been locked up for hours.
“I’m not leaving if I don’t know how he’s doing. Did he have a heart attack? Why are you not doing anything?” Emily seems amped up and combative at the doctor’s order. She never does what someone tells her to do, not even now.
“They can stay; you’d have to call security to get her out of this room,” I sigh.
I don’t know what I’m feeling right now. In all honesty, I don’t know if I want to have her around or not. I’m angry with her, but at the same time, I don’t have the strength to fight her stubbornness.
Emily raises her chin, irritated, Aaron struggles to hold back a smile, and even the doctor seems amused. The only one who is bothered by this situation is me.
“So, the good news is that you haven’t had a heart attack,” he announces, and I notice the other two relaxing their shoulders.
“Thank goodness,” my brother whispers, rubbing his hand over his face. The weight of the night is clearly visible on his face.
“The bad news?” I ask. Because if they haven’t sent me home yet, it means that there’s a “but.”
“If you continue like this, you will die.”
“Is that your medical opinion or a joke?” Aaron asks with such confidence I realize he’s one of his friends.
“It’s my medical opinion.”
Emily gets stiff again. “Is it because of the pain in his chest? What the hell was it if not a heart attack? Have you checked him out correctly?” she blathers in a panic.
Her reaction would soften me if I hadn’t branded the image of my father’s hands on her in my brain. The beat accelerates again, setting off those damn alarms. I can’t be near her and have the whole damn room know she gets on my nerves. I ball my hands into fists as her thoughtfulness pushes my brain to look for a justification for the stunt she pulled without anyone asking her to sacrifice herself.
The doctor turns and smiles at her, perhaps to reassure her, but she doesn’t seem to see him.
“The severe chest pain is due to several related causes. Stress, chronic gastritis, and probably a panic attack. We found that you have an ulcer as big as a walnut from the gastroscopy we did while you were sedated. It’s treatable, but people often underestimate it. If that ulcer is punctured because of neglect, you’ll end up straight in the operating room. What worries me most is that you didn’t even notice you had it and left it there to grow in your stomach. How many antacids do you take per day? Going to the gym to stay in shape is only part of staying healthy. This time it wasn’t a heart attack, but next time it could be. You have to take it easy, take care of your mental health and avoid stress, or you won’t make it to your forties. That was your wake-up call. Either you change something immediately, or I’ll have to come to your funeral.”
His speech is so direct and brutal it leaves me breathless. If this is his way of scaring me to make me change my lifestyle, he’s very close to succeeding. I usually like straightforward people, but when it comes to my health, I feel the fear squeeze my stomach, and, according to his explanation, that’s not a good thing.
“I’m going to ask the resident doctor to prescribe you some medication to start taking right away, then I’ll make an appointment with a gastroenterologist I know in New York who can help fix your stomach. But you really have to start calming down—for your own good,” he says, squeezing my hand and nodding at Aaron.
When the door closes behind him, I gaze at Emily and nail her in place. “Not a single word to the Jailbirds of this. Not Iris, not Lilly, not the Red Velvet Curtains. This stays between us.”
She puts on an incredulous expression. “You are unbelievable! He just told you that if you continue like this, you’ll die, and you don’t want to say anything to your friends? And I suppose you don’t want to get help this time, either?”
“They can’t help me with this, you know that. You can’t do anything about it either, and the last thing I need is someone breathing down my neck every single minute. The last time you decided to help me, I beat the shit out of my father and ended up in a hospital bed. What do you want from me? What?” I shout and watch her look down guiltily. Again, worry mars her face.
“You’re being unfair.” Aaron nails me with his eyes, but I’m so furious he shuts his mouth.
I am tired. I’m tired of so many things that I don’t even know where to start listing them. Of my father, of my family, of the impeccable brother who will always be better than me, of the fact that I never feel like I’m enough, of not being able to reach that perfection that everyone seems to see in me. I’m tired of people who believe they know what’s best for me.
“You’re fired,” my voice resounds in the room like a funeral announcement.
