Santori Reloaded, page 6
part #3 of Santori Series
Another thing that struck me as odd was the way he was only reaching out with one arm, while the other hung limply at his side. Could he not move it?
And he hadn’t spoken yet. Hadn’t said Boo! or Gotcha! or I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.
Nothing.
Icy tendrils of dread twisted around my heart and squeezed. “Gio? Are you in pain? Is something hurting?”
He opened his mouth as if to answer, but what came out was just a string of drawn-out vowel sounds. He was a caveman. A baby. A person who had forgotten how to speak.
“Gio!” I yelled, frantically trying to snap him out of whatever this was. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please, tell me what to do.”
A groan was all I got in response.
He started to slip sideways, toward the right, where his arm hung like a useless slab of meat.
I moved hesitantly around the bed, my steps jerky, my knees weak. I wanted to run to him, but at the same time I was scared to get close.
Scared of him.
Gio toppled over onto his right side, dragging the covers with him with that clutching claw of a hand. His head slid down into the space between the bed and the side table.
I turned on the lamp when I reached him and let out a distressed whimper when I got a good look at him. His head had hit the wall—not hard, but the position left his neck canted up at an odd angle, and his face was smashed uncomfortably against the side of the bed.
“Oh, my God, Gio.” I pulled frantically at his arm, trying to work him up. He didn’t seem to be able to help himself. All he could do was stare sideways up at me, his eyeball swiveled nearly forty-five degrees in the socket.
I tugged at his arm, but he might have been made of concrete for all the good I was doing. Every time I got him lifted a few inches, he tensed his body, straightening out like a rod and pulling against me, making it impossible for me to dislodge him from the tight space. Finally, I moved around the bedside table and dragged it away from him, nearly toppling the lamp onto his head in the process.
As I worked to steady the teetering lamp, I caught sight of the phone and had my first flash of clarity since the whole ordeal had begun.
9-1-1. I have to call 9-1-1.
I grabbed the handset and punched in the digits, my hands shaking so much I dialed an eight on the first try and had to start over.
Fuck, what was wrong with him?
“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” said a male voice on the other end of the line.
“It’s my—” I stopped, not sure what to call Gio to this stranger on the phone. “Ummm… he fell. He’s— There’s something wrong with him.”
“Sir, just try to stay calm. Where are you located?”
“The Alcazar hotel. We’re in the penthouse. He’s the owner.”
“The owner of the hotel?” the dispatcher asked, his voice rising in surprise.
“Yes. It’s Giorgio Rivera. We need an ambulance. You have to hurry.”
“Please tell me the address of the hotel and the room number.”
I told him the address and explained that there were two apartments on the penthouse floor. “The front desk clerk can tell the paramedics where to go. I don’t think I should leave him alone. He doesn’t look right.”
There was a clicking over the line, and I could hear the operator talking to someone. Then a flurry of radio chatter in the background that sounded ominous as hell.
The operator came back on the line. “We have an ambulance on the way, sir. Just hang tight. It will only be a few minutes. Is he breathing?”
“Ummm… yes. He’s making these weird noises. He’s trying to talk, but I don’t think he can make words.”
“And what is the approximate age of the patient?”
“He’s forty years old.”
“And you say he fell?”
“Yes,” I sobbed. “He’s stuck up against the bed, and I can’t get him up. I’m not strong enough.”
The admission gutted me. Gio was the most commanding man I’d ever met in my life, and because of me—because I was weak—he had to remain crumpled there in an undignified heap. He had loved me, cared for me, and killed for me. He had lifted me countless times, even one-armed, and lovingly manhandled me like I weighed little more than a child. And now his wide eyes were imploring me to help him for once, and I couldn’t even do that.
“The EMT’s will be able to lift him,” the operator assured me.
“But his head is up against the wall. He looks so uncomfortable. Can you hold on while I try again?”
“I understand how hard this is for you, sir, but sometimes moving an injured person can cause more harm than good. The EMT’s are trained to make sure his neck and spine are stabilized before they move him. Is he still breathing?”
“Yes. He’s still moving a little bit. It’s like he’s trying to get up, but he can’t.” I sobbed into the phone. “He keeps reaching out to me.”
I didn’t tell the guy that Gio’s eyes looked crazy. Like he was screaming at me with them, and I just couldn’t understand the message. Was he begging me for help? Blaming me for not being able to give it? Both options broke my heart.
I sank down beside Gio and rubbed his arm as he struggled weakly. The 9-1-1 operator stayed on the line with me, checking in periodically to make sure Gio was still breathing and that there was no change in his condition. Occasionally, he had to calm me down from a sobbing fit, talking me through deep breaths as if I were the patient.
In…out…in…out.
Somehow, I managed not to lose consciousness.
“The ambulance has arrived,” he said finally. “They’re going in now.”
I looked down, suddenly aware that Gio and I were both naked. Shit, why hadn’t I thought of that?
I wedged the phone between my shoulder and jaw and hurried to pull on the Calvins I’d been wearing the night before. Then I grabbed the first pair of shorts I could get my hands on and pulled them on, too.
I looked at Gio and cringed. His nudity had never seemed embarrassing before, but it did now. It seemed wrong to look at him naked when he couldn’t cover himself.
I rifled through his underwear drawer, toppling over neatly folded stacks until I located my favorite pair of silk boxers. They were a deep, dusty wine color with purple and blue paisleys. I worked them up his legs with some effort as he tried in vain to speak. There was no way I was going to be able to get actual clothing on him. Would they take him to the hospital in his underwear?
Finally, there was a loud knock at the door.
“They’re here,” I told the operator breathlessly.
He wished me luck and clicked off. I tossed the phone onto the bed, and it bounced off the other side and onto the floor.
I didn’t want to leave Gio, but I had to. I ran to the door as fast as I could, disengaged the deadbolt, and found one of the desk clerks standing there. I’d met her before—a young red-haired woman with freckles. I thought her name was Sarah.
“Mr. Rivera called for medical attention?” she asked, blocking the men from entering until I confirmed they were supposed to be there.
“Yes. He’s—” I glanced over her shoulder at the EMT’s. “He’s in the bedroom.”
They pushed past Sarah and me and into the bedroom, carrying a stretcher between them. They were all business and seemed to know what they were doing, and for the first time since waking up, I felt a sliver of something that was almost relief.
They would fix this. They were big, strong men with medical training. They would give Gio something—medicine or CPR or something— and make him okay. Wouldn’t they?
Breathe.
In…out…in…out.
I turned to follow the EMT’s into the bedroom, but Sarah stayed me with a hand on my bare shoulder. I wondered briefly if she thought it was strange that I’d discovered Gio collapsed in his bedroom in the early hours of the morning, and while wearing so little clothing.
Would she tell people? Would Gio come home from the hospital to find that everyone in the hotel knew what we were to each other?
I looked down at my wedding ring and found that I didn’t care. All that mattered was helping Gio. And who did we think we were fooling, anyway? Surely they all knew by now.
“Can I do anything to help?” Sarah asked. Her eyes were soft, and her compassion seemed genuine.
“I—can’t think of anything. In fact, I can’t think at all. I just…I have to get back to him, okay?”
She nodded. “He’ll be all right.”
“I know,” I replied almost indignantly. “They’ll give him something. He’ll be fine.”
He had to be.
Sarah turned to leave, and I rushed into the bedroom just as the EMT’s were getting Gio transferred from the floor onto the stretcher. He looked frail. Pathetic. And in that moment, I despised myself for even thinking such disgraceful words to describe him.
The EMT’s were talking to each other over Gio’s intermittently twitching body, using medical jargon I couldn’t even begin to understand.
I stepped closer to them, feeling more like a child than I ever had. “He’s going to be okay, right?”
One of them, an enormous beast of a man with short blond hair, cinched one of the straps holding Gio in place and looked up at me with warm brown eyes. “It looks like he had a stroke. We need to get him to the hospital as fast as we can. The quicker he gets treatment, the better the outcome.”
Stroke? I thought that was something old people had.
“Can I ride with him in the ambulance?” I asked, my voice sounding hollow.
“It’s better if you follow,” the other man said, running a hand over his buzzed head as he stared down at Gio. He was smaller than the first, but his shoulders were unusually broad, and all I could think was that I was glad Gio was in such strong hands. These guys looked more like soldiers than medical workers. “Do you have a blanket we can put over him? We don’t want him to get a chill, and he’d probably appreciate not being seen by his hotel guests wearing nothing but his boxers.”
I hurried into the closet and grabbed a folded blanket, then pulled on a T-shirt and sneakers before re-emerging. I hadn’t bothered with socks, but it didn’t matter what I looked like. Time was of the essence.
“I don’t have a car,” I told them as I handed over the blanket. “Or a driver’s license. And it would take too long for my driver to get here.” It occurred to me that I could call a cab, but I’d never done that before, and the thought made me anxious. “I just want to stay with him. He’s…all I have.”
The blond looked up from tucking the blanket around Gio and studied me with narrowed eyes. Not like he was suspicious, but like he was trying to figure something out. “They only allow next of kin to ride in the ambulance. And to go into his hospital room, make decisions concerning his care, that sort of thing.” He spoke slowly and deliberately, as if giving me time to really absorb his words. His warm brown gaze didn’t waver. “You’re his son. Right?”
Oh. Somehow I had enough sanity left to understand that he had obviously caught onto the nature of our relationship and was coaching me. Letting me know that if I rolled up into that hospital and said I was Gio’s kinda-sorta husband, I’d be out on my ass, and Gio would be all alone.
Not good.
My hesitation only lasted a split second. Long enough to glance at the other guy, who was busy tucking in his side of the blanket. He was ignoring our conversation, or at least pretending to.
I mustered as much of a smile as I could for the man who was obviously trying to help me and said, “Yes. That’s right.”
He gave a resolute nod. “All right, then. Let’s go.”
I grabbed Gio’s wallet on my way out the door, knowing that’s where he kept his insurance card, and then we were on our way. Everyone in the Alcazar lobby gave us a wide berth, staring all the while, and I was grateful for the blanket.
The ride over seemed like it took forever, though in reality it was only a few minutes. I felt like I was floating somewhere between reality and madness. Part of me wanted to scream and cry and tear my hair out, but I still hadn’t accepted the severity of the situation. This was Gio. Nothing could happen to him. He was sick, but he would pull through, even if he had to stay in the hospital for a few days.
The buzz-cut EMT drove, while the blond one tended to Gio, giving him oxygen and performing some sort of test on him. He said he needed to make sure it was a stroke. He reported the results to the driver, who then called it in to the hospital over the CB radio.
“Isn’t that something that happens to old people?” I finally asked. I couldn’t say the word stroke. It sounded too ominous.
The EMT—Brian, his name tag said—shook his head. “Not necessarily. Strokes are common in the elderly, but anyone can have one under the right circumstances. It’s caused by decreased blood flow to the brain, usually from a blood clot or brain bleed.”
Bleed? My entire body went cold. “But you can fix him, right? I called 9-1-1 right when it happened. You said as long as you get him to the hospital quickly…” I couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said, but it had given me hope at the time.
“Fast treatment can provide a better outcome,” Brian supplied.
“I think we did it really fast, don’t you? I hurried the best I could. I didn’t even take the time to put on decent clothes. Or socks.” I looked down at my sorry state of dress and let out a laugh that sounded more maniacal than humorous. “I don’t know how I could have gone much faster. I probably shouldn’t have even spoken to the desk clerk, though. That was one minute I could have spent getting dressed. You don’t think that will make a difference, do you?”
Brian looked up from whatever he was doing to Gio, and there was something soft in his eyes. Like pity. “What’s your name?”
“Peter,” I said.
“Well, Peter, trust me when I say you did everything right. You called 9-1-1 as soon as you figured out he was in trouble. You got dressed quickly and didn’t hold us up at all. Don’t ever question whether you did all you could, because you did.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “So that means you can fix him, right?”
Brian gave a small smile and glanced down at Gio, who looked unnaturally pale beneath the interior lights of the ambulance. “John and I followed protocol. We did the best we could to stabilize him and notify the hospital that he’s had a stroke so they can be prepared when we get there.” He looked out the window, gauging our location. “In about two minutes, he’s going to be in the hands of some excellent doctors and nurses. They’ll be able to tell you more about what to expect, okay?”
“O-okay,” I said, drawing little comfort from his vague answer.
Why couldn’t he just tell me not to worry? That Gio would be fine. That the doctors and nurses would give him some medicine, and he’d be right as rain in a few days. The fact that he hadn’t said any of those things brought me one step closer to true terror.
I didn’t have much time to contemplate it, though. Suddenly, we were at the hospital, and Brian and John were wheeling Gio into the emergency room. I scurried along behind them, feeling lost and out of place.
A couple of nurses intercepted us, and Brian handed over the clipboard he’d been writing on in the ambulance. He told everyone else to go ahead, then he steered me over to the desk, where a portly nurse sat behind a computer.
The nurse looked at us over reading glasses that had slipped to the tip of her nose. “Good morning, Brian. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, Janet. We just brought a patient in. A Mr. Giorgio Rivera.” He glanced over at me. “Do you have his insurance information?”
I fished the crisp card out of Gio’s wallet with trembling fingers and handed it over to Brian, who passed it to the nurse.
“This is his son, Peter,” Brian said, the lie smooth on his lips. “Please make sure he’s kept up-to-date and gets where he needs to go. He’s pretty shaken up.”
“Well, of course I will,” Janet said, aiming a motherly look in my direction. “You just take a seat over there in the waiting area, and I’ll let you know when I hear something.”
I nodded. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Brian walked me over to the waiting area and sat down next to me. “I’ve got to get back there and see what’s going on. I’ll have to take off when we get another call, which could be soon, but I’ll make sure everyone back there knows you’re responsible for Mr. Rivera.”
Responsible for Gio? It sounded absurd because Gio was responsible for me, not the other way around. Hell, I’d never even ordered my own food at dinner. Never so much as handed a credit card over to a cashier. Never paid a bill. Never arranged a night out or made a reservation. The only two things I could remember doing by myself were ordering Gio’s fedora and making that horrible salty spaghetti, and even then I’d had help from Gio’s tailor and his driver.
“Are you going to be okay?” Brian asked.
“Is Gio?” I swallowed around a lump and looked the EMT in the eyes. “He’s the one who takes care of everything—takes care of me. I keep wanting to ask him what to do, and then I remember he can’t talk. Does that sound crazy?”
Brian rested a hand on my shoulder. “Not at all. It sounds normal. Situations like this are not easy, and each person handles the stress and the fear in their own way. Some get hysterical, some act calm like it’s any other day, and some just get confused. There is no one-size-fits-all way to get through it.”
“I don’t think I can,” I admitted. “This feeling is…” My voice trailed off because I couldn’t come up with a single word to finish the sentence. “My brain is just all scrambled up, and I’m not sure how I feel.”
“There’s too much up in the air for you to know how to feel just yet, Peter.” Brian squeezed gently with the hand that still rested on my shoulder. “Cut yourself some slack, okay? You’re in shock. I’ve seen it enough times to know. The best thing you can do is try to get a little rest until the doctors have something to tell you. There’s nothing wrong with taking care of yourself; you don’t have to feel guilty about that. Gio may need you in a little while, and you don’t want to be an exhausted wreck.”
