But there was no naked Remy. And there wasn’t even a sleeping Remy on the bed. In fact, the bed was empty and made.
I drew in a sharp breath, not prepared for her to have just left me like that. Not sure what it meant, or what I should make of her not being here, I started more slowly into the apartment when my whacked-out squirrel came flying out from under the bed at me.
“Jesus,” I yelped, dancing my feet to dodge him, not at all certain what the hell he was doing as he scurried around the base of my feet and then took off again.
“What did she feed you?” I wondered with a scowl as I watched him pick up what looked like a bonbon off the floor and disappear back under the bed with it.
But a bonbon? What?
I started to investigate when only a few steps closer revealed a limp human hand on my floor where it peeked out from the other side of the couch.
“Oh God...Remy!” I raced to her, skidding onto my knees beside the still figure.
Her face was unrecognizable, swollen with a blotchy red rash. But it had to be her; she had the purple streaks in her hair.
“Oh, Jesus. No.” I scooped her into my arms and pressed her limp body to my chest, wondering what the hell had just happened. “Remy, wake up. Talk to me. What’s wrong?”
I pressed my fingers to her neck and felt a flutter. I think I felt a flutter, anyway. Fuck, I wasn’t sure.
“There’s a pulse,” I said aloud, not talking to anyone but needing to say it anyway.
That’s when I spotted the empty bonbon box only a few feet away. I stared at them a moment, wondering where they’d come from, before I yanked my phone from my back pocket and dialed 911. It seemed like it took them forever to answer.
Christ, weren’t emergency operators supposed to answer instantly? When a lady finally came over the line, I tried to describe everything to her as best I could.
“Yes, unconscious,” I said. “She’s all swollen and...yeah, there’s a rash.”
After a moment of listening, the woman told me, “It sounds like an allergic reaction.”
I snapped my fingers. “Peanuts. She’s allergic to peanuts.” My gaze strayed to the chocolate box. “Oh, God. It looks like she ate...I don’t know.” How many had Mozart taken off with? “There’s an empty box of maybe two dozen bonbons here. They must’ve had some kind of peanut ingredient in them.”
“Lay her flat on her back,” I was told, “Lift her legs and cover her with a blanket.”
I nodded, ready to try anything. After I placed her gently on the floor, I snagged a pillow and blanket off my bed. She was completely unresponsive as I gently tended to her. “Are you sending an ambulance?”
“Yes, but we need to do something now. If the reaction is as severe as you’re describing, it can only take fifteen minutes with her like this without any treatment before she might die.”
My heart nearly stopped in my chest. Had it already been fifteen minutes? I had no clue how long she’d been like this before I’d gotten home. Christ. “Well, then how the fuck do we treat her?”
“She should have some kind of emergency rescue medication on hand if she has a known allergy. Like an EpiPen or something.”
I had no idea what an EpiPen looked like, but when I caught sight of Remy’s purse on the kitchen table, I dashed to it and dumped the contents all over the table. A shit ton of stuff spilled out. Pens, old receipts, a wallet, notepad, tampons, guitar pick, lip balm, a used Forbidden coaster, but...what the hell did an EpiPen even look like?
“Jesus,” I gasped, afraid I was killing her even as I stood there, too stupid to know what I was looking for; my allergy to latex wasn’t anywhere bad enough to merit any kind of emergency rescue medication. I was about to throw the purse across the room in frustration when I felt a hard lump inside. I took one last look and found a zippered interior pocket.
And I nearly wept with relief when the thick black letters spelling EpiPen sprang out at me from a bright yellow box inside.
“I got it!” I yelled into the phone, racing back to Remy, where Mozart was hovering only a few feet away. I tore the box away from the pen and nodded as I listened to the instructions from the emergency operator about how to inject it. As I jabbed the needle into Remy’s thigh, I closed my eyes and prayed.
Please, please, please work.
I’d just found this woman. I couldn’t lose her now.
One, two, three seconds passed, and then Remy wheezed. My eyes flew open just as she stirred, trying to roll onto her side. Coughing, she wheezed again.
“Remy? Baby?” I cradled her, helping her move wherever she wanted to move. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay. We’re getting you some help now.”
Her hand caught my wrist and she squeezed hold of me, letting me know she heard me. Tears slid down my cheeks. “You’re going to be just fine. Oh, God. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”