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How much timepassed I don’t know, but my eyes snap open as Brian’s panicked voice reaches my ears. I bolt upright, heart dropping when I see him trying to rise from the couch with shallow, rapid breaths.
“Brian?”
He attempts a response but is thrust back with a cry that pierces the silence. His fingers curl into fists and his face contorts in agony. That’s when I realize his implanted defibrillator is sending a jolt of electricity through his body. Terror seizes me and tears spill down my cheeks as I search desperately for my phone.
I punch the numbers into my cell phone, fingers trembling with terror. I can barely gasp out when it answers, “My boyfriend... he has Brugada Syndrome and needs an ambulance right away. He just got an electric shock from his ICD.” The operator’s voice is a far-off buzz in my ear that I answer on autopilot, all my attention focused on Brian as he lies before me, trembling with pain.
I grip his hand tightly as if it could somehow save him, wishing I could take away his anguish and spare him from this suffering. My heart feels like it’s being squeezed by a vice as I listen to her promise of an ambulance arriving soon.
“It’ll be all right,” I croak out, but I know deep down it may not be. The fear of losing him sinks in like a blade through my heart as images of him dying flicker across my mind and I gag at the thought. No. Not now. Please don’t let these be his last moments.
Guilt washes over me in a relentless flood, crashing into my heart like an icy wave for bringing up the topic of children earlier today.Could I have been the cause of this?I push these thoughts away and lean forward to press a desperate kiss on his forehead. His weak smile gives me hope and courage even though I feel so hopeless inside.
A shot of relief fills me when minutes later, the siren wails split through the air like a beacon of hope, drawing closer until they reach our house. After opening the door, two paramedics walk through the front door carrying medical supplies and monitoring equipment. With quick and expert hands, they secure him to the monitors and soon murmur reassuring words that his ICD did its job and that his heart rate is normal. But because Brian still feels dizzy, they lift him onto the stretcher and bring him to the hospital.
“Take this,” one of the two paramedics says, handing me a white square block as I take a seat in the back of the ambulance. “It’s sugar. You are a little pale.”
I give him a faint smile and take it, letting it dissolve in my mouth as my eyes drift back to Brian—so vulnerable beneath all those wires and monitors. The gravity of how fragile life can be hits me like a ton of bricks; no matter how much he and I try to protect each other, there are still things out of our control.
23
BRIAN
Rage boils in my veins. “Three fucking months.” I slam my fist on the kitchen counter and a searing pain runs through my chest, a reminder of the ICD that shocked me.
“I’ve got a business to run, and now I HAVE to look for some way to get around for three months.”
A hand brushes my arm. “Brian, it’s going to be okay.”
I glare at Amanda with narrow eyes. “It’s NOT okay. It’s not fair that I have to find alternate transportation because of THIS.” I gesture at my chest. We’d left the hospital two hours ago, after they kept me for observation for six more hours. Amanda had called my mom, who then rushed to the hospital, and they both stayed at my bed until Doctor Wilson reassured them that everything was back to normal. Then, when we left, Nick and Cole had been there waiting in the restaurant to bring us home. My two best friends have come through for me once again. I’m grateful, but I can’t help feeling like a burden.
Nick looks up from his seat at the counter. “Chill, man. You’ve got us. We’ll help out.”
My fists remain clenched as I take a deep breath, struggling to free myself from the sobering reality. For the next three months I have to depend on others because there is a rule for people who have an ICD that states you can’t drive for at least three months after receiving your first shock. Ridiculous.
Cole’s unwavering gaze locks onto mine as he says, “I get it that you don’t want to be dependent. But call me soft-hearted, I’d rather have it turn out this way since it means you’re still here.”
Silence falls at this sobering truth. Then Nick clears his throat. “We should head home. You two look like you could use some rest.”
As Nick and Amanda walk to the front door, Cole comes my way, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t shut Amanda out, Fox. I know it’s scary, but bottling your feelings up won’t do any good. Don’t forget, we’re here whenever you need us or just want to talk,” he says before walking away.
I mutter an acknowledgment without turning back. As the door slams shut, I exhale and slump against the counter. My gaze drops low, my chest heaving as I struggle to contain my rising panic and deal with my old fears returning. It all mounts inside me like an invisible pressure, tearing at my heart and mind with agonizing force.
I try not to think about what happened, but my mind won’t relent. One second I’m fine, lounging and with my girl sleeping peacefully beside me, and the next a soft flutter rises, and within moments I’m upright panting, my heart racing out of control, giving me the feeling it’s going to burst. The worst sensation in the world. The doctor said that in those moments, there’s absolutely nothing I can do but attempt to stay calm, get help, and pray for the best. How ironic—trying to stay calm when you’re gasping for air. I failed miserably tonight. I clench my teeth as I think of Amanda’s expression when I woke her. The flash of terror in her eyes infuriates me. It’s my fault she was scared and this might not be the last time. What if from now on my life is a never-ending game of ping-pong with these kinds of attacks? She’ll be stuck beside me in this wretched show.
A gentle hand slides along my arm. “Do you want to watch TV?”
“You don’t have to stay,” I say, barely above a whisper.
It takes a while before I can bring myself to look up at her, but when I do, there’s only warmth in her brown eyes. “Why wouldn’t I want to stay?” she asks, so calm it evokes a kaleidoscope of emotions to build up inside me and erupt.
“Because as you’ve seen,” I say, struggling to keep my voice from shaking, “I’m screwed up, Amanda. Attacks like this could happen again, maybe even deadly next time. So it might be for the best if you walk away now.”
She straightens her posture. “Don’t try to scare me off, Brian.”
“Why not?”
She takes a deep breath, her gaze radiating compassion as she looks into my eyes. “Because you are more than this. Yes, what happened is terrible, and it frightened me. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you or us.”
