AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Where am I? Why am I so thirsty?
I roll to my side and fall to the floor, landing on a soft rug.
I just fell off my own couch.
Before I can make sense of it, my stomach heaves. I need to get to the bathroom. It’s not pretty, but I’m crawling across the great room. It’s dark, but I know I’m in Telluride, in my condo, and I’m headed in the right direction. Man, the altitude is really hitting this time. Oh, and the margaritas. Probably shouldn’t have had so many.
Probably shouldn’t have done a lot of things.
My stomach has calmed down, but I’m parched. I pull myself up to the sink and stick my head under the faucet, gulping water like I’ve just survived a desert trek. I relieve myself and limp back to the couch. My phone is on the coffee table. It’s one in the morning. I just need to sleep this off, start fresh in the morning, but still I open my text messages and see there’s just one. It came in while I was passed out.
Call me when you can get away.
I smile. She cares.
I hope Tish didn’t see the text, but I’m certain she probably did. She’s always nosing around in my business. I know it’s late, but my eyes can’t focus to text so I call instead. Her voice mail picks up. “Hey, listen I’m uh, really, really drunk but I uh, just wanted to call and you know, say hi and well, I love you. I’ll see you tomorrow as soon as I can get out of here I, uh, I will. I don’t feel so good. And, uh—”
Another wave of nausea hits, and I’m sweating profusely. I drop the phone on my stomach, force my eyes shut despite the feeling of being on a sinking ship, and will myself to fall back asleep. It’s the only antidote for a situation like this one. It’s my fault I drank too much. I’ve made my bed, as they say.
I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep on the couch, or if I have slept.
Right now, I know I need help.
“Tish?” I think I called out my wife’s name.
I wait for an answer, but there isn’t one.
The vise that’s been squeezing my chest clamps down. I can’t catch my breath. My heart pounds against my rib cage.
I use my right hand to check my pulse on my left wrist, but the blood pumping through my fingers makes it impossible to count beats. My chest seizes.
And then I know.Oh my god, I’m having a heart attack.
I’m panting as I sit up and reach for my phone. It’s fallen under the coffee table. I slide from the couch to the floor. With the last bit of energy, I reach toward my phone as my chest seizes again. I can’t breathe.
My fingers wrap around the phone. My lifeline. My hope. I slide my finger across the screen, opening the text message:Call Me.
I want to. More than anything. I love you. I want to call you. I want to be anywhere but here, with anyone but her. I want to call, but my fingers aren’t working. My hands are numb. I’m sitting on the flooras my head lolls to the side, my neck unable to hold it up. I have a big head. A heavy, big head.
My breath catches in my throat as panic washes over me.
Suddenly, a stabbing pain grips my chest. I collapse forward, landing on my face, unable to break the fall with my numb hands. My nose is bleeding. I taste the rusty metal. Blood. I roll onto my back to escape the flood of blood.
The pain is unbearable, a million pounds of pressure and a bolt of lightning.
I can’t breathe.
There is only darkness.
CHAPTER 13
TISH
I stretch and hop out of bed, taking my time as I walk across the wide-plank wood floor (heated, of course) and pull back the ugly floral (of course) curtains in the master bedroom. It’s a beautiful, sunshine-filled mountain day. I slept like a baby with the bed all to myself. It’s late, almost ten in the morning. I decide to shower and get ready for the day before making coffee. I know I need a little more time before I go downstairs.
An hour later, I’m looking good. I’m wearing a black EventCo T-shirt—for old times’ sake I guess—jeans, and tennis shoes. I check my phone, and I’m surprised it’s already 11:00 a.m. Time flies.
I pull open the double doors to the master bedroom and walk out into the still-dark great room. I closed all the blackout shades last night before going to bed, and even in the brightness of midday, they do a remarkable job. Small shafts of light escape from the crevices of a few windows, but for the most part, it’s like a cave in here. Or a tomb.
