Reality crept back into her consciousness as Adam was lifted out of the car, and Joan found herself chasing him, through the sliding glass doors and into the blue entryway that took them into the emergency room. Bright lights assaulted her eyes, and she struggled to adjust from such a long time spent outside in the night.
A nurse brought a stretcher to meet them, and the policeman lifted Adam onto it. A doctor walked up now -- at least, Joan thought it must be the doctor because he was wearing a white coat and a stethoscope, but he looked so young, even younger than the cop, Joan couldn't imagine he'd been at it for very long. He was tall and thin, pale, with red-blonde hair, and he kind of reminded her of Luke.
"What've you got?" the young doctor asked as he met up with them. They were passing into the main room of the ER now, where beds separated by curtains lined the walls.
The cop replied, "Caucasian male, 16, OD. Got him in a traffic stop."
The doctor lifted one of Adam's eyelids as he asked, "You know what he took?"
"Nothing!" Joan cried, even more plaintively now, feeling the doctor had to believe her. "He's not on drugs! He's just sick."
The doctor looked at her, and he seemed to consider what she was saying.
But before he could respond, the cop jumped in with, "I found them on Archer Parkway. One guess what they'd be doing there."
"Did you find any drugs on him?"
"No, but he was driving erratically, then got out of the car and was throwing up."
"Alcohol?" the doctor asked.
"No sign of it on him or the car. I'm thinking pot plus X or Meth. Before I could finish searching the vehicle, he collapsed."
"You threw him down!" Joan cried.
The doctor looked from Joan to the officer and back again. "What's his name?" he asked her.
"Adam," Joan replied. "Adam Rove."
"Adam," the doctor called to his patient, who finally opened his eyes. "I just want to help you, Adam, but I need you to tell me what you took so I can figure out how to make you better. OK?"
Adam looked up at the doctor and was clearly confused. Like Joan, he must have assumed that once they got to the hospital, everything would be fine. He took a moment to respond, but finally was able to say, "I didn't take anything."
The doctor took another long look at him, then took a penlight and shined it in Adam's eyes. He turned to a nurse and said, "Let's get a tox screen, full blood and urine panel." The nurse nodded and moved away. "Adam, have you been drinking?"
"No."
"Have you inhaled anything?"
"No." Adam winced again in pain, the spasm lifting his hips up off the stretcher. He tried to curl onto his side, but the cop pushed him back flat.
The doctor laid a hand on the officer's arm and urged him, "Take it easy."
Joan grabbed onto the metal bar at the foot of the gurney, her frustration mounting. She fought to keep her voice calm. "You have to listen to me. He's not high. He's sick, and he's only going to get worse unless you figure out what's wrong with him."
"We'll run some tests, and then we'll know what's wrong with him."
"I'll figure out what's wrong with him," the cop snarled. He grabbed Adam by the front of his hoodie and yelled right into his face, "What did you take?!"
"Stop it!" Joan screamed. "Leave him alone!"
Her cries were overlapped by the doctor's pleas of "OK, OK. Just let go of him and let me do my job." He was obviously startled himself, and as he tried to pull the cop off of Adam, he turned to a nurse and asked, "Can I get some help over here?"
The cop released his grasp of Adam's shirt but did not entirely back off, leaving his hand lying on Adam's shoulder like a warning. "Fine, go ahead and wait for your tests." He cocked his head at Joan and added, "But get her out of here."
The doctor turned sympathetic eyes to Joan and said, "I need you to go back out to the waiting room."
"No, I'm not leaving him."
"I'm sorry, but I think it will help everyone calm down if you go wait outside."
Joan tightened her grip on the end of the stretcher. Adam was clearly still in danger, and she wasn't going anywhere. "No," she said firmly. "Not until I know he's OK."
The doctor looked past Joan and nodded, and she turned just as someone grabbed her arm. She looked up at a burly orderly who seized her firmly and said, "This way, ma'am. Come on."
"No!" she screamed, having now lost all composure and not caring if she sounded like a crazy person. But that only made the orderly grab her tighter, seizing both her shoulders. He began to drag her away as she cried out, "Let go of me!"
She would have gone quietly had she realized that Adam would witness what was happening to her. But it all happened so quickly, she didn't think.
"Jane!" he cried, trying to sit up. The cop still had one hand on him, holding him down, and Adam threw it off and sat up, reaching a hand out toward her. "Jane!"
With a shout of "Lie down!" the cop brought his arm back down against Adam's chest with so much force it knocked Adam back flat onto the gurney.
Everything around Joan spun into a shocked silence. Even the doctor seemed speechless as he gawked at the officer, and then the two of them started arguing, but it was all wordless to Joan. She saw everything fading away from her, receding, and only then did she realize that the orderly was pulling her away and she wasn't struggling. She tried to see Adam's face, to see if he was even still conscious after that blow, but he was too far away now, and the gurney was moving, too, a nurse pushing Adam over to a curtained area as the doctor interceded with the cop and prevented him from following. There were two nurses now, one of them unzipping Adam's hoodie and pulling it off, the other unwrapping a package and laying its contents on a tray. The last thing Joan saw was a nurse holding up a syringe, as the other pulled the curtain around and cut off Joan's view.
Having lost sight of Adam, Joan found her footing again and pulled away from the orderly. He let her go and then held his hands up in a gesture of peace. She turned to glare at him, wondering how she could get away from him. He wasn't too big, not as big as the cop, but he looked tough. He was Latino, with a nametag on his blue scrubs that read "Jesus."
"Stay here, Joan," he said softly.
She wondered how he knew her name, and then she realized he couldn't know her name, because Adam had called her 'Jane.' And that could only mean one thing.
"Is that you?" she demanded, both relieved and horrified. She looked at his nametag and scoffed. "Of course that's you, trying to be cute even at a time like this."
"Calm down. It's OK"
"No, it's not OK! It's very much not OK! Why aren't you helping Adam? They're hurting him! Please, do something!"
"Help is on the way, Joan." Orderly God pointed toward the sliding glass doors that led back outside. Joan turned to look, but the hallway between her and the doors was empty. She turned back to see Orderly God heading back into the ER.
Joan wanted to follow, but she didn't think she could get to Adam now. She grabbed her head and tried to think what she should do next, but she couldn't get control of her emotions enough to be logical. There was no logic here. None of this made any sense at all. None of this should have happened. She was angry and afraid, and she didn't know which feeling was making her shake so much, but maybe it was both. She was so tense her arms hurt. She looked down at her hands and tried to steady them by opening and closing them, but they kept shaking.
"Get it together, Joan," she whispered to herself. She looked at the people sitting in the chairs near her, an old man and a woman holding a small child. They were all three staring at her. She realized she must look like a lunatic, standing there helplessly, opening and closing her hands.
Joan decided she'd had enough of waiting. She had just made up her mind to go back into the emergency room, regardless of the consequences, when out of the corner of her eye she saw the double doors slide open. She looked to see two people come rushing in from the night outside.
Her parents.
Relief flooded over her like a warm bath at the end of a cold day. Just the sight of her mother and father was enough to abate so much of the fear that had wrapped its cold grip around her heart. So overwhelmed with emotion she couldn't even speak, she found herself walking toward them, and then running, arms out to them like a child. Her father saw her first and ran to her, grabbing her in his arms.
"Joan!" he cried, kissing her head. "Oh, thank God, you're all right." He was saying it more to himself than to her, but still the words comforted her. She reached next for her mother and got another tight squeeze.
"How did you find me?" Joan asked, her eyes brimming with tears.
Her father brushed the hair back from her face as he explained, "You said you got pulled over, so I got on my radio. As soon I heard an officer call in that he had two kids from a traffic stop and was taking them to the hospital, we jumped in the car. What happened?"
"And where's Adam?" asked Helen.
"He's with the… the…" Joan couldn't even get the words out. The relief at seeing her parents had momentarily blocked the terror she was feeling about what was happening to her boyfriend. As she began to recall it, the emotion was too much for her, and suddenly the tears in her eyes brimmed over and flooded her cheeks, as a sob shook through her.
Helen and Will exchanged a look and then watched as Joan pointed to the curtain that concealed Adam. Her parents saw the police officer and the doctor arguing, and then the doctor passed behind the curtain, and the officer followed.
"Stop him!" Joan shrieked, grabbing her father's hand. "Daddy, you have to stop that cop! Get him away from Adam!"
Will gripped Joan by the shoulders with firm, calm hands. "Look at me, Joan. You've got to calm down. Deep breath."
Joan tried to do as her father ordered. She inhaled, but choked on a sob and quickly exhaled and coughed.
"It's OK, pumpkin," said Will softly. "Try again."
She knew she had to calm down to explain what was going on, but she still felt like this was wasting time, time that Adam was still at the mercy of that horrible mean cop. It was only by looking into the concerned but rational eyes of her father that she was finally able to focus, get that deep breath, and exhale.
"Good," Will said with a reserved smile. "Now tell me what happened."
"Adam was sick, we were driving home and he got sick. He pulled over, I mean he didn't pull over he just stopped, and I think he was throwing up, he got out of the car and... And this cop came up and grabbed him and was shining a flashlight in his face and kept asking, 'What did you take?' But Adam couldn't even answer because the guy threw him on the car and was practically strangling him and I told him that he didn't take anything and he wasn't high he was just sick, and the cop didn't believe me, and then he went to search the car for drugs and Adam collapsed and I made the cop bring us to the hospital. And I don't know whether he collapsed because he was sick or because the cop kept hurting him. And then we got here and I thought it would be OK but –"
She'd gotten as far as she could get without emotion overwhelming her again. She thought of Adam calling her name and what happened then, and another sob escaped her lips.
Her mother reached around from behind her and wrapped arms of love and support around her. Joan leaned back against her mother's chest.
Will kept his steady eyes locked to hers. "What happened then, Joan?"
"He s-sat up and… and…" – her voice caught, but she fought through it – "and he reached out to me and c-called my name because, because they were taking him away and wouldn't let me go and… and… the cop h-hit him."
"The officer struck Adam?" As Will asked this question, he looked from his daughter to his wife. Joan turned around and saw a look of horror on her mother's face.
Joan nodded at her father, tears streaming down her cheeks. She started talking faster, trying to get the last part out quickly before she completely broke down again. "He knocked Adam down, knocked him b-back on the stretcher, and they wheeled him away, and I couldn't run after him, I-- " But that sentence would be left unfinished, because Joan finally broke, and her legs gave way beneath her, and it was only her mother's protective arms wrapped around her that kept her from collapsing to the floor.
Will helped to pull her to her feet, and he and Helen together walked her over to a chair to sit. A ball of sobs now, she ended up in her mother's lap, gasping, unable to process what she had seen in any kind of way that would not completely alter the world as she knew it, a world in which these things didn't happen, a world in which a police officer, a person she'd been raised to trust, a person who was supposed to help people, would never hurt someone as sweet and gentle as her Adam.
Will knelt before her and gently laid a hand upon her face. "Joan," he said softly, followed by, "Joan," a bit more stern.
She opened her eyes and saw the look on her father's face, stoic now, a look that showed that the father was becoming the detective again and that he knew she wouldn't like it. It was the look he'd given her when he had told her it was time to take the training wheels off her little pink bicycle.
"Joan, I have to ask this question…"
The seriousness of his tone drew her full attention. She wiped the tears away and focused.
"I have to ask, and you have to answer me honestly. Do you know for a fact that Adam didn't take any drugs?"
It was strange, Joan thought, to be looking at this man who three seconds ago was her father and now was some stranger. But perhaps it was that feeling, that sudden feeling of detachment, that thrust her fully into this new reality of the cold, hard world. The feeling calmed her, and when she responded, it was with less grief and more anger.
Through pursed lips she hissed, "How can you even ask that?"
"Because I have to understand why the officer would think Adam was high."
"Adam was sick, and other than that I don't know why that cop thought anything, except that we were in a bad neighborhood."
"Could he have taken medication?"
"No. I don't think so. I don't think he knew he was sick. And I was with him the whole time."
"The whole time? He never left your sight? He never went to the bathroom?"
"Well… he went to the bathroom. So?"
"And what about when he came to pick you up? Did he seem a little strange, a little out of it?"
Joan opened her mouth to reply, but she failed to utter an automatic 'No.'
Her mother responded instead. "Will, that's just him. That's Adam Rove. He's out of it. That's his thing."
Will nodded to Helen and then turned back to his daughter. "Joan, think. Is it possible that Adam took something, anything, at some point during the evening?"
Joan's mind was whirling now in a whole new direction. She was completely confused. Would her father ask these questions if they weren't important? No, he wouldn't. And if they were important, then she had to consider her answers carefully. She had to consider the possibility that she could be wrong. She tried to remember every moment of her evening with Adam. It was so recent, and yet any clarity with which she might have been able to recall their date had been eradicated by the events that followed. But one thing she did remember: Adam had seemed strange from the beginning of the evening. She remembered being worried about him. But everything that she'd been worried about pointed to him being sick. And beyond that, she knew him. He didn't do drugs. If he did drugs, she would know about it… Right?
"He didn't take anything," she replied. But some iota of complete conviction was missing from her voice, so infinitesimal an amount that only a veteran detective would catch it. And Will Girardi was just such a detective.
"Are you sure?" he demanded, with eyes that peered into her as if they could read her mind.
She hesitated. And then the words that came next were not her own.
"I'm sure," replied a firm voice with a lilting Southern accent. Joan looked up at her mother, but Helen was peering at her husband with eyes as focused as his and repeated for emphasis, "I'm sure, Will. And my mind is not clouded by confusion or tears or romantic feelings. I know Adam Rove, and I know several people who think he's on drugs, and that's because those people are incapable of seeing who he really is. He's a good boy, and he loves our daughter, and you go get that cop away from him this second or I will do it myself."
Will gazed steadily at his wife, and from the look between them, it was clear that the subject was closed. He patted his daughter's cheek and stood up.
"I'll take care of it," was all he said.
As he turned to go, Joan got up to follow, but her mother held on to her. "Joan, I think we should wait here."
"I won't get too close, I promise. I just want to be able to hear his voice. I have to know that Adam's OK. Please, Mommy."
Helen nodded and kept an arm around her as they followed Will into the emergency room. He stopped at the open side of the curtain, where a heavy-set nurse exited holding a tray lined with tubes.
"Can I help you?" the nurse asked, and then, with a look back at Adam, "Are you his father?"
Will flipped his badge. "I'm Detective Will Girardi."
This brought the doctor out from behind the curtain, looking anxious. "There's already an officer here, and I've been trying to explain to him that I don't think this is a police matter."
"I know the patient," Will explained.
And then Joan heard Adam's strained voice call out, "Chief Girardi!" She would have loved to see the look on the cop's face when he heard that, but he was hidden from view.
"Adam, hang in there," Will called to him. "It's going to be fine." Will extended his hand to what Joan imagined must've been the cop. "Detective Girardi," he introduced himself. "I don't think we've met."
Will was still outside the curtain, and the cop had to step up in order to shake his hand and reply, "Officer Grady." Joan realized that her father was intentionally drawing the cop away from Adam.
"Officer Grady, may I have a word with you?" He took a few strides back, and the officer emerged fully from behind the curtain to follow him, until –
"Wait!" came Adam's plaintive cry. "Chief Girardi, don't leave!"
"It's OK, Adam. Relax. I'm not going anywhere." Will turned to where Joan waited with her mother. "Helen, some help here?"
Helen nodded and moved forward, first ordering her daughter, "Stay here."
"But, Mom--"
"Stay here, Joan."
Helen stopped at the opening of the curtain and smiled at Adam, then reached up and pulled the curtain back just enough so that her daughter could see. Joan moved forward just a bit, and now, only ten feet away, she could see him clearly. Adam was lying down but propped up slightly by the raised back of the gurney. His hat, shoes, and hoodie removed, he was just in his gray T-shirt and jeans now, a cuff strapped to one arm as a nurse took his blood pressure.
"Mrs. G," he called as Helen stepped up to his bedside. The relief in his voice was palpable; Joan thought it could rival what she herself felt at seeing her parents. She realized just how scared he must be. The glare of a large light over his bed reflected in his eyes, and Joan thought she could see the glimmer of tears.
Helen took Adam's hand in hers and laid her other hand on his forehead, brushing back the hair that matted to his damp face. "Just relax, Adam. You're going to be fine. We're all here for you." Her voice was soothing, the same voice she used to comfort her own children when they were sick or frightened. Joan had never heard her use that voice with anyone else. Helen looked up at the nurse and commented, "He's burning up."
"His temperature is a hundred and three."
"Can't you give him something?"
The doctor looked up from the chart he was writing on. "If it's bacterial, we can start him on antibiotics, but we won't know until we get the lab reports back."
"So you don't know what's wrong with him?"
The doctor eyed her carefully. "Are you a parent or guardian?"
"I'm Helen Girardi. I'm his teacher, and his girlfriend's mother."
The doctor nodded. This seemed to be good enough for him. "I'm Doctor Chenoweth. I'm glad you're here, Mrs. Girardi, you and your husband. I didn't know what we were going to do about that police officer. I've never…"
"You've never had to deal with a gung-ho young cop before?"
"Not exactly."
"You're an intern?"
"Yeah. My first ER rotation, and dealing with the gung-ho cops is the part they don't teach you in med school."
Joan's attention turned back to the cop when she heard his voice rising in his discussion with her father.
"I'm not going anywhere!" he shouted at Will. "You can't tell me that kid's not on something. I know what I saw!"
Will remained very calm. "And you brought him to the hospital, which is exactly as you should have done. And the doctors will find out what's wrong with him."
"He's OD'ing! That's what's wrong with him. He was on Archer Parkway to score drugs."
"You don't know that."
Officer Grady now sounded angrier at Will than at Adam. "Look at him! Look at how he's dressed! Look at his hat!"
Will turned to took at Adam, who was no longer even wearing a hat. "You assume he was there to buy drugs based on how he was dressed?"
"And I could see it in his eyes. He's stoned."
Will nodded to Helen, who moved aside, still holding Adam's hand. Will stepped up to the gurney and laid a hand on Adam's forehead, using a finger and thumb to gently draw up his eyelids.
"Adam, look at me."
Will took a good long look in Adam's eyes and announced, "His pupils look normal." He held up his hand over Adam's face. "Now, follow my finger." Will waved his index finger back and forth in front of Adam's eyes, slowly and then quickly. Satisfied, he asked one last question. "How are you feeling?"
It took a moment for Adam to respond, which he did slowly, nervously aware of the audience. "I just feel… pain. My stomach. It's like somebody stabbed me in the gut."
Will looked to the intern. "What do you think it is?"
Doctor Chenoweth stepped up to Adam's bedside opposite Will. He pulled up his patient's shirt and pulled down the waistband of the plaid boxers that peeked above Adam's jeans, to expose the lower portion of his stomach. Adam looked around him with widened eyes, as if realizing how surreal it was to be displayed in this way for his girlfriend's parents and a cop who seemed intent on hurting him. The doctor laid his right hand on top of his left and pressed Adam's stomach in several places, with no response, until he reached one spot…
"AAHG!" Adam groaned, wincing and grabbing at the metal railing along one side of the gurney as his other hand squeezed Helen's.
Joan winced, too, and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes again.
The doctor looked at Will and nodded to indicate that this was exactly the reaction he expected from his patient. "All of his symptoms suggest acute appendicitis. I'll know for sure when we get a few tests back from the lab. I've seen nothing that would point to an OD."
Will nodded. "I concur with that assessment."
"But…" Officer Grady protested, growing increasingly defensive. "He may not be OD'ing, but he is definitely high."
Will sighed, his calm demeanor evaporating in a wave of disgust. "Officer Grady, I've been a cop for twenty-five years. Anything you can smoke, snort, sniff, inject or ingest, I've seen somebody on it. This kid isn't high."
"Maybe not now, but he was an hour ago."
Will exchanged a look with the doctor, who nodded, knowing what he was silently asking. Doctor Chenoweth explained, "Anything that was active in his system an hour ago will show up on the tox screen."
"Fine," Officer Grady grunted. "If you want to wait around, suit yourself. I've got a patrol to get back to."
"No, you don't," countered Will.
"Excuse me?"
"You're not going anywhere."
"You're not the Chief anymore, Detective Girardi. You're not my direct superior, so you can't order me to stay."
"Yes, I can, Officer. I'm a detective, and as of now you're under investigation for charges of illegal search, wrongful arrest, and excessive use of force."
"What?! Charges made by who?"
"Charges made by my daughter. Now the best thing you can do, if you want to return to your patrol, is to sit down, wait, and pray that some controlled substance turns up on those lab reports. Because then you might have some hope of justifying how you behaved this evening."
"This is bullshit. I barely touched the kid."
"Officer Grady, cool your heels, have a cup of coffee, and don't say another word until I come for you. If you wish to continue this conversation, I would advise you to have an attorney present. In the meantime, I will call your C.O. and let him know where you are."
Officer Grady turned his glare from Will to Joan. She stared back at him, her teeth clenched, until he turned and stormed off toward the waiting room. Joan sighed with relief.
Shaking his head sadly, Will walked back to where Adam lay on the gurney. "I'm sorry about that, Adam. Officer Grady is not representative of Arcadia's Finest."
Adam squeezed his eyes shut, and Joan couldn't tell if this was from relief or if he was struggling to suppress another wave of pain or nausea so that he could speak. When he opened his eyes, he looked up at Will and said simply, with effort, "Thank you."
Will nodded. Helen again brushed back the damp locks of dark hair from Adam's forehead and then ran her fingers down his cheek. She looked up at her husband and gave him a proud smile.
Joan wanted to rush to Adam's bedside, but she lingered where she was when she saw the doctor walk over to a nurse and speak with her quietly. Joan took a few steps back until she was within earshot.
Doctor Chenoweth shook his head and sighed. "That'll take too long." He scrutinized some papers.
"What's wrong?" Joan asked.
Both the nurse and the doctor looked at her as if noticing her reappearance for the first time. "Young lady," said the nurse, "I don't think you're supposed to be in here."
"Just tell me what's wrong. Please."
Sensing her distress, Will stepped over to them and laid a hand on Joan's shoulder. "What's the matter?" he inquired.
The nurse said, "We got a hold of the father. He's going to have to take a taxi to get here because his son took their car. Doctor Chenoweth isn't sure we can wait."
Will shot a concerned look to Helen. She patted Adam's hand, gave him a smile, and then walked over to join them.
The doctor explained, "I just got the initial lab reports back. As I suspected, it's appendicitis, but it's progressed further than I thought. We need to operate immediately, and we need parental consent because Adam is under 18."
Will nodded. "I can go pick up Mr. Rove."
"That would help, but, in all honesty..." The doctor cocked his head toward the waiting room and gave Will an embarrassed smile. "I'd feel more comfortable if you stayed here to keep an eye on this situation."
Helen volunteered next. "I can go."
"But you can't use the siren," Will pointed out.
"I can still drive pretty fast," she said with a crooked smile.
Will nodded -- it made more sense for her to go. "Just don't get pulled over."
Helen went to Joan and laid a hand against her face. "Adam is going to be fine. Don't worry."
"Just hurry, Mom."
Joan watched her mother rush back out through the waiting room. She turned back to Adam to see that the gurney was already moving again, and the doctor was at Adam's side, talking to him.
"Adam, my young friend, you have an infected appendix, but we're going to take it out, and you'll be good as new tomorrow." Two nurses took over pushing the gurney, and Doctor Chenoweth continued, "These nice ladies will take you up to surgery now to get you prepped."
Joan ran over to the gurney. "Wait! Can I go with him?"
The doctor shook his head. "It would help if you just stayed here for right now."
Her father came up right behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Joan, you can see him later. Stay here with me."
Joan looked at Adam, his eyes open a tiny fraction but not really seeing anything at all. The pain and fever had advanced so far that even though he was still awake, he wasn't really there. A last lonely tear slipped down Joan's cheek as she watched the nurses roll him down a hallway and into an elevator.
He was gone.