I still can’t find my tongue, so I nod.
“That good, huh?” he rolls toward me, his arm beneath his pillow.
“Matt,” I start. But I stop, bite my lower lip and shake my head. “I don’t know what to say to you.”
“You still running Logan in circles?” he asks.
I bite back a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He laughs. “It’s good for him. Keep up the good work.” He narrows his eyes. “He’s never had to work for anyone before. Women came easily for him.”
My face floods with heat when I realize what he said.
He laughs. “Yeah, that, too.” He points across the room. “You remember those letters I told you about?” he asks.
I nod. I don’t want to talk about letters. Because when I deliver the letters, he’ll be gone.
“They’re in my top drawer. My dresser.” He nods his head in that direction. “When the time is right, be sure they get them?”
I nod. “I will. I promise.”
“There’s one for you too.”
I don’t want mine. “Ok.”
He takes my hand in his and squeezes it tightly. I can tell the action takes a lot out of him. “What do you want to do tonight?” he asks.
I shrug. “Sit here with you.”
He smiles at me. And I see so much of Logan in him that it hurts. He rolls to the edge of the bed and lifts himself up to sit. “Let’s go watch a movie.”
I nod, taking his hand in mine to help him to his feet. He lets me, but he groans as he gets up. “You sure you can do this?” I ask.
“Remember when I told you I was going to suck every minute out of life that I could?” He stares at me. I am a little worried that he’s trying to gather enough energy to walk into the living room.
“Let’s go suck at life,” I say. “Do you want some popcorn?” I ask over my shoulder. He’s following me.
“Why not?” he asks flippantly. “Popcorn and I’m going to snuggle with Logan’s girl.” His voice is farther behind me. But he’s coming, so I start the popcorn. The steady pop, pop, pop has started when I realize he hasn’t followed me into the kitchen.
There’s a thud in the hallway, and I jump. “Matt?” I ask, walking back in that direction. But Matt’s lying on the floor. He’s drooling, and his body is convulsing. “Oh, shit,” I say. “Matt!” I yell. I roll him onto his side, because I heard that’s what you do when someone convulses. Or maybe it’s that you’re supposed to roll him onto his back. Shit, shit, shit. I don’t know. “Pete!” I yell.
Pete opens his door, he’s in a pair of boxers and he drags his shirt over his head. “What?” he asks. Then he sees Matt lying on the floor. “What the fuck?” he says, and he drops down beside Matt.
“Go call 911,” I say calmly. When he sits there and doesn’t move, I shove him and yell in his face. “Go call 911!”
He shakes out of his fear induced stupidity and runs to the phone.
He gives them the address and stays on the phone with them until the ambulance arrives. He gets dressed while he talks to them, stepping into his jeans in front of me, but I don’t care. His girlfriend leaves. She’s not worth the air she’s breathing, apparently.
Matt calms and I lift his head into my lap. I wipe the spittle from his face with my sleeve and brush his hair back from his forehead. He’s still. Too still. I hadn’t realized how much hair he’d lost with the chemo. It’s thinner than I thought it was. I brush across his face. “Not yet. It’s too soon,” I whisper to him.
I follow the paramedics as they carry him downstairs. “One of you can ride along,” the paramedic says.
Pete looks at me and says, “I need to get my brothers.” He runs a heavy hand through his buzz cut.
He knows where they are and I don’t know how to get there. None of them carry cell phones because it’s not in their budget.
“Go get some shoes,” I say. He looks down at his naked feet and nods.
He shoves me into the ambulance and they close the door behind us. The rest of the world falls away, and I can no longer hear the sounds of the street or the blaring horns. All I can hear is the unsteady beat of Matt’s heart on the monitor. Every time it stutters, mine flips in my chest, my breath leaving me. I lean over and take Matt’s hand.
“It would be better if you don’t touch him,” they say.
I nod and sit back, buckling the seat belt in the jump seat they pointed me toward.
My hands are shaking and I don’t know what to do with myself. They start IV’s and look into his eyes and do a lot of things I don’t understand.
He doesn’t wake up. I worry that he never will.
Paul gets to the hospital first, and he’s carrying Hayley on his hip. She’s frantic, and she wants to know why they can’t finish their date. I hold out my hands and she comes to me, settling against my chest. “What happened?” Paul asked.
“He just fell down in the hallway and started to shake,” I try to explain. But I’m trying to be strong since I’m holding Hayley.