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“Hey, Daniel. Have you seen Edith Willows?” I grab Daniel on his way out, making him stop short and bump into another classmate.
“No, sir. She missed our last two tutor sessions this week. She was a no show at the library.” Daniel shrugs and I wonder what is keeping her from class. Certainly I don’t think it’s me. I keep the appropriate distance, even if my mind can’t stop taking her clothes off every time I close my eyes. After Daniel leaves, I realize I don’t have a way to get in touch with her, so I call the Registrar to see if they can give me her number or address.
After some back and forth, and speaking to a supervisor who questioned my motives, I am finally given an address and a cell phone number. I try calling her, but her voicemail box isn’t set up and she doesn’t answer. I wonder if she gave plasma again, or if she is in some kind of trouble. I decide I will just head over to her place and see for myself.
I grab my bag and go out to my car, driving around the New Brunswick area until I get to a less-than-favorable neighborhood containing small row houses with fences that keep small yards separated. Her house is in the middle of the block, and what looks like bus stops are on either end of the row. I hate thinking this is how she is getting around. I remember her being a senior with a car of some sort, but there is none in front of her house. I drive down and find a parking spot. Knocking on the door gets me no answer but, peeking through a window, I see a light on in the living room.
“Edith. Edith. Edie, open up the door. It’s, uh…it’s Jack Hamilton.” I don’t hear anything, but being that my worry is escalating, I do what I have to and damn the consequences. “Edith, I’m coming in. Stand back from the door.” Giving the door a good shove, it barely budges, but by the time I ram myself into it two more times, it breaks the hinge enough for me to push my way inside.
I look around the space, noticing how sparse and neat everything is. I call for Edith. Nothing. Turning around again, I find her curled up on the couch right in front of me.
“Edith. Edie, why didn’t you answer me?” I sit down on the couch next her and touch her bare shoulder. Heat meets my fingertips. It is then that I realize how cool her apartment is and how hot she feels under my hand. “Edie, come on. Wake up for me! Please!” Edith isn’t mine. She isn’t my girl no matter what I want. She is my student, but damn if the lines don’t blur when she needs someone to look after her. I shake her gently, taking in how she is dressed. A simple tank top, pink underwear, no socks, and a messy braid. She gives me no response, increasing my worry. I check her pulse, which is slow.
“Edie, come on and wake up for me.” This time, she barely stirs under my touch, but weakly tries to push me away. I just can’t remain so formal with her now. Seeing her helpless is killing me because she’s always been so tough to crack. “That’s my girl.” I say slipping. “You’re feverish and dehydrated, baby. Let me help you. Okay?” I find her cellphone on the floor, and picking it up. I turn it on, only to find it dead.
I go over to her sink and cabinets behind the sleeper sofa she hadn’t bothered to pull out for herself. Opening cabinets, I find neatly organized bananas, a club-sized box of Ramen noodles, and bulk-sized oatmeal. Turning to look at her briefly, I say sarcastically, “You like your fiber don’t you, Edie.” She moans a little and I can’t tell if she is even responding to my quip. She’d probably flip out if she actually heard me use her nickname I’d only heard her two cohorts call her.
Opening another cabinet, hoping to find a glass, I find a complete plate set and glasses for four. All are mismatched, but clean and cute…just like her. I pull out a glass and place it under the faucet, expecting running water. “Shit, Edith. Really? No water?” I make a note to call her landlord and find out what the fuck is going on.
I open the freezer, looking for ice to cool her down. Chicken cutlets and pizzas fill the space. A lonely container of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream in my favorite flavor, mint chocolate, and an ice tray finally come into view. I dump most of the ice into the glass and check the fridge, hoping she has bottled water. “Edith, do you ever eat?” Opening the fridge is equally depressing, unless you consider a five pound bag of carrots and a jug of orange juice food groups. I know Edith has a full scholarship, minus the cost of room and board. I know because I checked into it. What is she doing with her money?
“Motrin?” I glance over at her. “Right. I’ll check in the bathroom.” Edith still doesn’t respond beyond a groan, so I riffle through the mirrored cabinet in her black-and-yellow 1970’s-era bathroom. I consider putting her in a cold bath to bring her fever down, but there’s no tub. Just a stand-up shower with a clear curtain, and two thin white towels, neatly folded. They aren’t even the fluffy kind like I have at home. She is breaking my heart just thinking about the squalor I see her living in. The bottle of Motrin is empty. I shake it in my hand before tossing it in the trash.
“Okay, Edith. I’m going to get you to drink this cold juice, then I’m going to help you put clothes on and get you in to see a doctor.”
She rolls away weakly, her head limp as I try holding her up. She won’t take any juice and her lips are dry. I put her on her back and listen to her chest, which sounds raspy. “Baby, there’s nothing I can do for you, so we’re going to the emergency room. You need something to get the fever down.” I brush her hair, which is wet and sticking to her scalp, off her forehead. “Clothes would be…?” I look around as she stirs in my lap.
“N-no,” she mumbles.
“What? No clothes or no hospital? Edie, I’m not giving you a choice, even though I like what you’re wearing.” Who doesn’t love a woman in a tank top and panties? The thought makes me cringe because, yeah, this ‘woman’ is still my student.
I locate the one dresser and a separate closet in the open room. It strikes me as odd that there is no computer or TV, just a bookshelf and the dresser. Leaving her on the couch, I look through the dresser, then find a small duffle bag in the closet. I grab two sets of cotton panty and bra sets. There isn’t much selection for clothes…a few tops, a few pairs of jeans, and a pair of sleep pants. It takes some effort to get her dressed. Propping her up, I manage to shimmy her legs into pants and her arms into a top. Of course, being the slight pervert I am, I appreciatively run my hands down her small ass and legs. She swats me away, grumbling. “I know. You can punch me later. I promise.” Smiling, I grab her shoes…a pair of those horrid black flip-flops and black converse chucks. I toss those in the bag. I’d contemplate later what kind of woman only had two pairs of shoes.
“Come on, Edie. Up we go.” She definitely will have some explaining to do after this. I feel like a total dick, making all my assumptions and now seeing her like this. I am shattered. Every probable reason leaves me. I get her into the car and buckle her in, feeling her forehead. “Just a little longer and you’ll be okay. I promise.” I drive to the ER as quickly as possible, leaving my car in the emergency lot and carrying her in until an orderly lead me to a cot in the hallway to put her on. The place was packed for a Thursday, every chair filled with screaming kids and moaning elderly folks.
“Sir, can I help you?” a nurse with a clipboard asks.
“Yes. She has a high fever and has been unresponsive. I found her unconscious in her house. I couldn’t get her to take any fluids.”
“Bring her in here.” I carry Edith to a small curtained room and lay her on the bed. It is the first time she actually stirs and opens her eyes, grabbing my shirt.
“Edie, you’re going to be okay. We’re at the hospital,” I say.
“N-no.” Edith cries a little and, with the help of the nurse, I have to pry her surprisingly strong grip from my shirt. I have to believe she is going to be okay, and I need her to believe it, as well. The nurse makes me step back.
“My goodness, she’s fevered. I’ll need you to step outside, sir.”
“With all due respect, I don’t want to leave her alone.”
“Are you family?” The nurse looks at me pointedly.
“No… She’s got a high fever and I was afraid something would happen if I didn’t bring her in.” This nurse is going to give me a hard time unless I can convince her otherwise.
“Sir, if you’re not a family member or a partner, I can’t let you stay. HIPPA laws and all that jazz.” She is clearly irritated.
“B-boyfriend,” I choke out. I am so getting fired for this. Job suicide seems to be all the rage, but I can’t leave Edith here alone.
She cocks her head to the side, unconvinced. “All right. While we get her settled and wait for the doctor to come in, I’ll need you to fill out this paperwork as best you can.” She hands me a clipboard and that is that.
