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The RT—not arty, as he’d first thought—frowned. “Yep. Definitely some albuterol. If this continues, I’ll talk to the doc about adding a steroid as well. Maybe budesonide. But we’ll worry about that later.” She strapped a mask over his mouth and nose then turned on a machine that made a low buzzing sound. “Just try to breathe normally,” she said. “This shouldn’t take long to work.” She gave the nurse a friendly pat on the shoulder then quietly left the room.
Amazingly, it didn’t take long at all. In a minute or two he was breathing more easily. It surprised Ben how clear his lungs felt. He hadn’t been able to breathe this well in ages. A few minutes after that, the nurse shut off the machine and took off his mask. Ben coughed again, twice, but that was all. He took a cautious deep breath and was relieved when it went in and out smoothly with no tightness or that familiar whistling sound he’d gotten used to. “Thank you,” he said.
The nurse smiled at him. “You’re very welcome. How are you feeling?”
Ben thought about it. It took a bit because his head felt stuffed with cotton. “My chest hurt when I was coughing. That’s probably not good, right? And I have a headache. Did I get a concussion or something? I remember falling…”
“You’re severely dehydrated,” the nurse said, her smile dimming. “That’s probably why you have a headache. You’re already on IV fluids for that. You also appear to be recovering from walking pneumonia, which you’ve had for some time. Oh,” she added, “and you’re anemic.”
Ben scrunched his face in confusion. “That’s all?”
“That’s all, he says.” That was from the man who’d spoken earlier and touched his hair. Ben couldn’t see him, however. “Benny, you collapsed on the sidewalk.”
Benny. Hardly anyone besides Howard at work called him Benny, and that was because Ben reminded the doorman of his grandson, whose name was Benjamin. Ben didn’t particularly like being called Benny—he much preferred Ben—but he decided that the man in the room could call Ben anything he wanted. His voice was warm and rich and comforting, like hot chocolate. Not the stuff you could get in the packets, although Ben splurged sometimes and bought it for a treat, butrealcocoa, made with chocolate and hot milk. Ben had only had real hot chocolate once in his life and he thought it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.
“I don’t remember any of that,” Ben said in his small, raspy voice.
“It’s not surprising, considering,” the nurse said. “But you’re on the mend now. We’re giving you antibiotics along with the fluids in your IV, and we’ve brought down your fever. I can’t promise anything—Dr. Perez will have to sign you out—but I think it’s possible you’ll go home today with an oral antibiotic.” She pursed her lips. “Possibly tomorrow, but I doubt any longer than that unless you take a turn for the worse, which I don’t anticipate. Not that I’m the doctor, of course. He gets to make the final call.” She rolled her eyes, making Ben smile, but not laugh. He didn’t think he was up to laughing yet.
“Oh. Thank you. I don’t know what your name is.”
“Patty,” she said. “I’m on shift until seven, then Matt is coming in to replace me. He and Alicia will look after you for the rest of the day. But until then, push this button here to call for me. Okay?”
Ben nodded and she left.
Being sent home was both good news and bad news. The longer Ben was in the hospital the more expensive everything would be, but once he left the hospital, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. There’d be the antibiotic to buy, and he wasn’t sure about his job. Candida might get him fired. Maybe the hospitalwashiring. He should try to find out. Getting a new job might be a good idea regardless. He’d thought that for a while but looking for a new job was intimidating. It had always been easier to tell himself that things would get better. It had been over a year and things weren’t getting any better. He should have left ages ago, probably, but he was a weak pushover. That’s what his mother had said and she wasn’t wrong. He was weak and didn’t make good decisions.
Unbidden, a tear rolled down the side of Ben’s face.
“Benny,” the man the nurse had called his friend said. “Don’t cry. What she said is good news. You’re going to be okay and you’ll get to go home soon.” He came to lean over Ben and swiped the tear away before it could roll into his ear.
It was Silver Fox. Impossible as that seemed, this was him. In the flesh. And he wastouchingBen and it was so wonderful. He knew he shouldn’t want that, but he did, hesodid, and thinking of how weak he was, just like his mother had constantly told him, made Ben cry harder. It was stupid, but he couldn’t seem to stop. He wasn’t even sad, really. Just frustrated and exhausted.
“I’m sorry. Can I get you anything, or… is it me? Should I leave?” The man paused for a second and his eyes went all soft and his sweet, voice warmed even more, like a steaming mug of hot chocolate. “I don’t want to upset you.”
Silver Fox was a stranger, Ben supposed, but he didn’t feel like one. Ben had drawn his face too many times, although he could see he hadn’t gotten every detail perfect. That was what came from relying on memory and furtive glances. He wanted, with a fierce ache nearly as bad as the one in his head, to be able to have this man sit for him and then not only draw him, but paint him as well. It had been so long since he’d been able to paint anything. His fingers twitched with the need.
Ben let out a watery laugh and swiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry. It’s just been… a really bad week.” Or month. Or year. Or entire lifetime. He had to put a stop to his self-pity or he’d never dig himself back out and he’d float away on his tears like Alice. “You don’t have to go. Unless you want to. Or you have somewhere to be. A family you need to get back to?” Ben imagined Silver Fox with a wife every bit as lovely as himself and a house full of beautiful children. They would have perfectly straight teeth and good grades and lots of friends. It was such a wonderful picture that looking at it made Ben’s heart ache.
Silver Fox smiled. “No. I have a large extended family. There’s my mother, my aunts and uncles, and about a million nieces, nephews, and assorted cousins. But I live by myself. Mostly.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m one of those confirmed bachelors, I suppose.”
“Oh,” Ben said, feeling unaccountably both pleased and upset by this news. He supposed it was just sad such a handsome man had never fallen in love. It had nothing at all to do with there being no possibility of him falling in love with Ben. Which wasn’t something he should want in the first place. And even if Silver Fox had beenthat way,he’d never be with someone like Ben. The idea of it was crazy. He felt a blush burn his cheeks and hoped Silver Fox would attribute it to his fever. Which reminded him. “What’s your name?”
Silver Fox laughed and it was the kind of sound you could curl up into on a frigid winter night. “How rude of me to rescue you and then not introduce myself. I’m Simon. Simon Prince.”
That was an appropriate name. Simon looked like a prince. Or better yet, a king. Royalty, for sure.
“I’m Ben Miller.”
“Ben, not Benny?” Simon asked with a smile.
“Either is fine.” It wasn’t really a lie. Ben didn’t care what Simon called him.
“I’m pleased to meet you Ben—or is it Benny? Although I’m sorry about the circumstances.”
Ben thought of all the times he’d caught a glimpse of Simon/Silver Fox going to work every morning and wanted to laugh. He felt as familiar to Ben as an old friend. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Thank you for not leaving me in the snow.” Which reminded him of the looming hospital bill. He shoved that worry down. He could panic about it later.
Simon took Ben’s left hand and clasped it in both of his. Ben shivered a little at how nice those hands felt. “It’s my pleasure. Entirely my pleasure. Whatever I can do for you, let me know.”
