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It’s not funny as I’m pushed away from him by the paramedic, it’s not funny as I watch them work over him, strapping on an oxygen mask around his face. It’s not funny as they hurry him onto a stretcher. It’s not funny as the ambulance doors shut in front of my face.
Priscilla is pulling on my arm, and I can’t tear my eyes off the truck, taking my best friend away.
“Cuba, come on. Their taking him to Marina Del Rey.” She’s tugging on me again.
Blinking, I shrug her off my arm and head to the bench, grabbing my car keys. I have to get to him. I need to call our parents, I just need to get to him. Priscilla is on my heels, and I want to snap and tell her that she isn’t riding with me but that will take up too much time, so I let her into my car.
Thankfully, she doesn’t speak to me but instead taps away on her phone and makes calls, who to? I have no idea, because Jackson doesn’t hang out with anyone other than the team and me. I call his parents on my phone through my car, and I’m glad that Priscilla keeps her mouth shut. This is not the way to meet his parents.
Los Angeles traffic seems to be on our side today and we managed to stay close to the ambulance.
They won’t let me go back there with him, say I have to wait in the waiting area. Said I’m not family but I am. I tell them he’s my brother, and he is but they look at my colored skin and tell me, again, that only family can come back right now. Priscilla pulls me back, telling me to calm down and that his parents will be here soon, they’ll let me back. So, I let her lead me to a pair of chairs in the crowded waiting area.
It feels like years have passed until I see Mrs. and Mr. E storm through the emergency room doors, my mom and dad right behind them. I see the questions in their eyes, and all I can do is drop my head while Priscilla fills them in. They don’t know her, I can tell by the look on their faces, they are confused on how she knows their son, but the Emmett’s are too polite to ask her relation to Jackson. My mom, on the other hand, isn’t.
“And who are you?” My mom’s lips press into a line. When it comes to the opposite sex, she is like a scary mama bear, her claws are out.
Priscilla blinks back and glances at me but I ignore her look. “I’m his girlfriend.”
I don’t correct her because I don’t give a fuck. All I care about is my best friend… my brother.
“They wouldn’t let me go with him, said I wasn’t family.” Mrs. E takes no time pulling me up into her arms.
“We’ll get you back there, Cuba,” she promises, then looks over at Priscilla. “Thank you for being here but this is a family matter. Do you need a cab or is there someone that can come to pick you up?”
Priscilla’s cheeks turn red, but she gives her a quick nod and walks away. Good.
His parents go back to their son while mine stay with me. I can hear my mom and dad whispering about what happened, trying to convince themselves it can’t be anything serious, he’s too young. I try to convince myself the same thing, but the sight of him on the ground, turning pale, gasping for air, comes back to me. The tear that escaped his eye makes me overthink. Jackson Emmett was scared. And that alone scared me.
Hours must have passed, and I’m being shaken awake.
“Hey, buddy. He’s waiting to see you.”
I blink up to see Mr. E above me. His blue eyes red and swollen, his blonde hair a mess. I think the worst.
“He’s.” My voice cracks. “He’s not-” I’m cut off.
He shakes his head. “He’s awake and waiting for you.”
I stand and I’m ready to go to him when I realize no one is coming with me. The Emmett’s and my parents are talking quietly, my mom has her hand pressed to her mouth as she listens.
“He’s in room 203, go on back.” Mr. E nods toward the doors.
Something feels off, the tension is thick with emotion, and I can’t place it. My feet drag through the busy sterile hallways, I have always hated hospitals. The smell of them makes my stomach queasy, and I get lightheaded. I reach his door, it’s closed. I knock once and let myself in.
Jackson is laid up in bed, white sheets cover him from the waist down. He’s hooked up to an IV and oxygen, instead of there being a mask he has two little tubes through his nostrils. His blue eyes flick to mine, and he tries to smile but fails.
“Hey man,” he croaks. He tries to motion to the chair next to him, but his arm barely lifts off the bed.
Slowly, I walk to the chair, my eyes never leaving him. The room is cold and stale, and he looks out of place.
He waits for me to sit before saying anything.
“You know you’re my best friend, man, you are like my brother from another mother.” He tries to smile again, and it holds for a second before falling. “Thank you for getting help.”
I try to shrug him off. “With Priscilla yelling at me, I had to.” It’s a poor attempt at lightness. “She told your mom she was your girlfriend.”
He shakes his head lightly. “Priscilla and I are complicated, and now her being my girlfriend is even more slim.”
