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“Yes. God I love you.”
“Oh angel.”
“Dante, you have to hang up and dial nine-one-one. Or whatever nine-one-one is in Sicily. You have to do that now!”
He sounded so young as he said, “I don’t want to die alone. Please Charlie, stay on the phone with me. I want to hear your voice. Every moment that I have left, I need it to be with you.”
“Dante, you have to try to get help! You have to call an ambulance.” I looked up, realizing that not only was this conversation on speaker phone, but every single person in the bar was staring at me, wide-eyed and hanging on every word. I yelled to the crowd, “How do you call an ambulance in Sicily? What number do you dial?”
Several people including Jamie and Dmitri, who were right beside me, whipped out cell phones and started frantically searching the internet. In just a few seconds a stranger waved his phone and shouted, “One-one-eight! That’s what he has to dial for an ambulance!”
“Dante, you have to dial one-one-eight. Do you hear me? You have to try to get help.”
“Don’t want to hang up.”
I said, “You have to. You have to hang up and then you have to dial one-one-eight.”
“No. Stay with me, Charlie. Please.” His voice was a faint whisper.
“I need you to get help, Dante.” I pressed my eyes shut and said, “I’m going to hang up. I want you to dial one-one-eight the moment we get off the phone. Then I’m going to call you back in one minute.”
“No. Don’t go.”
“Tell me what you’re going to dial when I hang up.” I tried to make my voice firm, even as I shattered with despair.
“One…one…eight?”
“Yes. I love you, Dante. I’ll call you back in one minute.” And I ended the call.
I turned to Christopher and whispered, “Oh God, what did I just do? What if he dies? He wanted me to stay with him. What if he dies in the next minute? I’ll never forgive myself for hanging up on him!”
Christopher pulled me against him, clutching me fiercely. His voice was shaking as he said, “You did the right thing, Charlie. That was his only chance. You have to believe he’s calling for help right now. It was the only thing that could save him.”
I shook and clung to my friend for just a minute, and then I let go and took a deep breath and called Dante back. It was on speaker again, and everyone in the bar held their breath as the phone rang once…twice…three times. On the fourth ring, voice mail picked up. I disconnected and tried again as fear trickled ice cold through my body. Again I got voice mail. I tried again. And again. And again. It went on like this for several minutes, and each time I got the same result.
I completely lost it then, crying so hysterically that I could barely breathe. “Let’s get him home,” someone said. Strong arms were around me, supporting me. I’m not sure what exactly happened after that.
Eventually I realized I was back home, seated on my couch, clinging to Christopher like he was the only thing anchoring me to this earth. I gradually became aware of other people around me as the tears tapered off and were replaced with a cold, aching emptiness. Jamie sat beside me, his hand on my shoulder. Dmitri paced nearby, placing call after call, trying to get information on Dante. Jess sat on the loveseat with a laptop computer, and every time Dmitri hung up, Jess would recite another number, which Dmitri dialed. He’d then say something into the phone in choppy Italian. The only words I could make out were Dante Dombruso.
A gentle hand on my knee made me focus my attention on the person in front of me. Callie sat on the edge of the coffee table, holding a glass of water. “Are you really here?” I asked her, reaching out a fingertip to touch her auburn hair.
“Yes Charlie, I’m here. Jess and I came right over when Jamie texted her. Here sweetie, try to drink a little water.”
I tried to take the glass, but my hand was shaking too hard. So Christopher took it for me and held it to my lips, and I managed a couple choking sips.
Jamie was brushing tears off my face with the back of his hand. He said, “Dmitri and Jess are calling every hospital in Sicily. And Dmitri called Dante’s men, they’re all trying to find him.”
I nodded at that, wrapping my arms tightly around Christopher. “Don’t let go of me,” I whispered to him.
“Not a chance, Charlie.” He kissed my forehead.
“He can’t be dead,” I whispered as he rubbed my back. “He just can’t be. We just found each other. I can’t lose him already.”
“We don’t know what happened,” Christopher said. “So don’t give up, Charlie. I’ll help you hold on to hope.”
