Silence pounded through the empty bedroom, between his ears, in his heart. Panic started to rise in his throat like bile, like pale yellow frenzy. "Summer, if you don't answer me, I'm going to come in. Please talk to me." This time, he didn't wait for the sound of her voice, he reached for the doorknob, turned it easily. Since when did prickly Summer Roberts stop locking her doors?
He bounced in, just in time to see the top of her head—the lovely hair he'd just been admiring—submerge in the steaming water. He hesitated only a moment. If she was okay, she would just have to be angry with him for barging in. He crossed over to the tub and knew instantly something was wrong. She wasn't moving, wasn't awake.
He plunged his hands underneath the hot water, pulled her up into his arms, soaking his worn cotton polo. He turned her head to the side slightly, her body involuntarily coughed up the water that was in her throat.
"Summer, Summer, please wake up," he begged, falling backwards on to his bottom on the plush purple bathmat, hard. He held her in his lap like a child, checking to make sure that she was breathing every couple of seconds. He clamped his fingers around her chin, shook her ruthlessly. "Summer, wake up for me, you stubborn bitch." No. No. No. This couldn't be happening, not like this. I'm not going to lose her again.
He laid her out as carefully as he could against the cool tile, he turned off the faucet; the tub was almost dangerously full. He stumbled out of the bathroom, searching around her room desperately for her phone.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"My girlf-my friend, she fell, she hit her head. I need an ambulance." His voice cracked painfully.
"Please calm down, sir. How long ago did she hit her head?"
"I don't know, maybe a minute. She was in the bathtub. She's unconscious," Seth was already back in the bathroom, kneeling before his goddess, his love. "She hit her head."
"We have a unit on the way, sir. Is she breathing?"
"Yes, I pulled her out of the water, yes, she's breathing."
"Okay. ETA is four minutes, stay calm..."
Seth hung up the phone without waiting for the nasal operator to finish. He pulled Summer's robe out from underneath her supine body and draped it over her, he had to preserve her last shred of dignity.
"Hang on for me, sugar. The ambulance is on the way," he whispered, pushing back the wet hair that was plastered to her forehead. The soft scent of roses drifted from the warm water in the tub, rose from her flushed body like steam. Roses. Pink like summer sunsets; rosy like soft lips, blushing cheeks. The smell of her body after they'd made love. Wild yellow roses, summer.
His mother's voice, angelic. Just because you're crazy about someone doesn't mean they are right for you, Seth. Or that you are right for them.
He pressed kisses against her forehead, against her cheeks. "Summer, Summer, Summer," he didn't dare touch her anywhere else, he didn't dare move her.
Seven minutes later a pounding at the front door interrupted the murmured litany, he bolted from his position next to her to the front door, his heart beating wildly. The next fifteen minutes was a blur of activity as the technicians loaded her onto a stretcher and carried her out to the elevator. Seth grabbed his coat and his bag, barely holding on, remembering at the last second to fish the keys out of his pants pocket and lock the front door. He reached the elevator just before the doors shut and he shouldered his way inside. The EMT shot him a dirty look, but Seth was so focused on Summer that he didn't notice.
They lifted the stretcher into the ambulance as if it weighed no more than a few pounds, he leaped into the back of the bus, onto the bench, hovering over her as the techs called the hospital to relay their position.
He held her hand, even as the tech inserted the IV and took her vital signs. Seth's voice was caught in his throat; though he tried to speak out, he couldn't. The EMT didn't notice. The sirens began to blare as the ambulance merged into traffic.
Seth rocked in his seat manically until the tech shot him a sideways glance a la Ryan and said, "Settle down, kid, or I'll strap you down, too." Seth nodded, but didn't stop. He needed to think. What? What did he need to think? He was so confused, so muddled. When did things get so complicated? The only thing he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, beating in sync with hers, the only agreement they ever reached. Their hearts beat together, even when their minds and their lives did not. Hmm, Poetic. Maybe I should write that down... Seth shook himself, inhaled deeply.
The ride to the hospital was completed in silence, only the short bursts of static and distant, tinny voices from the radio interrupted their thoughts. Seth watched helplessly as the EMTs wheeled her stretcher into the emergency room, steel doors swinging shut to bar his entry. He started to follow.
"Sir!" He turned to find the triage nurse staring at him expectantly. He hurried over to her, switching his corduroy coat from his right arm to his left, pulled nervously at the wool scarf around his neck.
"Patient's name?"
"Summer. Roberts. Summer, Middle name A-a-b-i-s-h, then space and then M-a-h-r-u-k-h. Roberts is her last name."
"Date of Birth?"
"August 23rd. 1987. She's twenty seven."
"Yes, I can count. Social?"
Seth fumbled for a moment, then pulled out his wallet. "Okay, seven-three-four, six-nine, eight-three-six-six."
"Any allergies?"
"None that I know of."
"Next of kin?"
"Me. Uh, I'm her...I'm her..." Seth was stuttering, trembling. "We're engaged."
The nurse looked up sharply. "She has no other family?"
Seth shook his head mutely.
The nurse took her pen up again in renewed efficiency, "your name?"
"Seth, Ezekiel, Cohen."
"Okay, Mr. Cohen, I have some forms for you to fill out. You can go back now, if you like. Here," she shoved a clipboard in his general direction and he barely caught it before it clattered to the floor.
He followed a portly young doctor in blue scrubs past the triage desk and into the melee of the emergency room on a Saturday night. Of all the ridiculous times to faint and hit her head, Summer would pick the busiest, craziest...
"Here she is," the resident threw back a worn vinyl curtain that was the approximate shade of avocado green that induced vomiting in those who weren't colorblind. Summer had been moved from the stretcher to the bed, a plain white sheet pulled up to her throat. Seth didn't even know if they had put a gown on her or not.
"Can I get a blanket for her?"
The resident reached into the cupboard and grabbed a thin cotton blanket and shoved it at Seth, who took it grudgingly. He suspected he wouldn't get anything better for her until he actually talked to someone with a medical degree.
"Where is the doctor? Where are the nurses?"
The resident snorted. "She's breathing. Someone will be by in a while."
"Great," Seth muttered under his breath as the resident exited breezily. He sank into the hard, barely-upholstered chair next to Summer's bed and took her hand in his once more. He kissed the top, being careful not to jar the needle that lay just under the surface of her almost-translucent skin. How had she gotten so pale? When had it happened? Where was her warmth, her life?
"You're going to be just fine, sugar," he whispered, scooting to the edge of his chair, resting his head on the bed next to her hip. He nestled his cheek into her ribs, needing to be close to her. "You're going to be fine."
Now if he could only make himself believe it.
The first thing that Summer became aware of was a steady, monotonous bleating; the sound of slow, tedious death. She felt like her eyelids had little silver weights on top of them, to hold them shut, like coins on a corpse. She brushed at them in vain with her left fist. Her right arm was being held securely beneath the warmth of another body.
She moaned, disoriented.
"Mama?"
Seth awoke with a start at the sound of Summer's voice. He let out an enormous breath, he wondered if he'd been holding it the entire time. Across the hall, a siren started to wail, someone was flat-lining.
"Oh, Summer," he whispered. "Thank God."
"Cohen?" she asked wearily, finally opening her eyes.
"I'm here, sug--. Just keep still," Seth took her hand in his own, and then pressed it against his cheek, as if to convince himself that she really was okay.
Summer attempted to sit up, but grabbed for the back of her head when a shooting pain erupted behind her eyes. "Cohen, what happened?"
"You were in the bathtub, you fell and hit your head. But you're okay," Seth gave a chuckle as heady relief swept through him. "I brought you to the hospital."
She scratched idly at her hand, where the IV had been inserted. "That much I figured out. How long was I out?"
"Five hours," Seth sighed. "The longest five hours of my life," he mumbled to himself a half-second later. Summer ignored that. He sighed again, stretching the tense muscles in his neck.
"You know, if you didn't want to go to dinner, you could have just said so," he ribbed, still giddy.
Summer rolled her eyes, "...of course, I almost forgot how well you take no for an answer," she remarked dryly.
"Continue to mock me and I won't let you play with my shiny new halo," he teased, brushing him thumb across the back of her hand, an intimate gesture. Too intimate, but he couldn't stop himself.
Summer's heart rose, just a little. How she had missed this. The affection, the banter. The feeling that no matter what Seth said, or how biting his tone, he never really meant it, not really.
"Miss Roberts, you're awake," a rather large nurse waddled in, pushing a cart full of supplies. Her voice was husky, like Lauren Bacall, but she smelled like cheap perfume, it made Summer nauseated. She bit back a comment about Wal-Mart and the quality of it's product line; no one but Seth deserved her snark.
"Yes, just," Seth answered, sitting up straight in his chair. He dropped Summer's hand, but didn't stop hovering. Nurse Walcott was quite lovely, with long brown hair, sparkling eyes, pink apple cheeks.
"Can we unhook this?" Summer gestured to her hand, where a heart monitor had been clamped around her index finger. "The beeping is driving me crazy," she murmured sheepishly.
"That'll be for the doctor to decide, love. I'm just here to draw your blood."
Summer offered her arm wordlessly and turned her head to bore holes through Seth with her empty stare. The nurse tied a long rubber tube around Summer's bicep, and then began to slap her fingers against the skin of Summer's inner arm, looking for a vein.
Summer reached over very suddenly and pressed her free hand against Nurse Walcott's protruding belly. "When is your baby due?"
Nurse Walcott and Seth both gaped at Summer. Behind the curtain, a stretcher whizzed by, an intern loudly yelling at others to get out of this way. The pretty nurse recovered first; she cleared her throat.
"Babies. Twins. They're due in March... but...how did you know?"
Summer shrugged and smiled shyly. "I don't know. I could just feel it. I feel their energy."
The nurse flushed a healthy shade of rose, pleased and proud. She finished up and left the room, still shaking her head in wonderment. Seth watched Summer silently.
"You're staring at me again," she warned, less snappish than the last time she'd railed him for it.
"I know," Seth replied, unapologetic. "I'm just so glad you're okay."
Summer blushed, and Seth ducked his head, embarrassed.
Outside, Summer heard the same intern yell, "I can't stop this thing on a dime, you know!"
Seth stood, his voice wavered. "I'm going to go get some coffee."
"Okay," Summer breathed, smiling at him genuinely for the first time, albeit only slightly.
"I'll be right back," he promised, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he retreated. He stole one last glance at her before letting the curtain softly swish shut behind him.
Four hours later, Summer was finally released from the hospital with a prescription for Vicodin and with cheerful instructions to Seth not to allow her to take any more baths alone. Darling Nurse Walcott even winked as she said it, which made it even worse, considering that Summer couldn't see her teasing smile. Regardless, she smiled back indulgently while Seth's face burned hot with embarrassment.
"She was sweet," Summer whispered as they walked away.
When they arrived back at the apartment, they could hear the phone ringing even from outside the door. Seth hurriedly worked the lock and ushered Summer inside.
Summer dove for and reached the phone just before the last ring. "Hello?" she said, breathlessly.
"Summer! For God's sake, where have you been? It's 2 am, I've been worried out of my mind. I tried your cell, I tried Seth's cell...I tried the house phone like, twenty times..." Normally unruffled Anna was frantic, near tears.
"I'm sorry, we're sorry. I fell, and hit my head. Seth had to take me to the hospital. But don't worry, I'm fine."
"Oh, God, do I need to come home? Are you hurt? What happened? I should just come home..."
"No, no," Summer protested, allowing Seth to help her out of his coat. "It's just a little bump." She felt it gingerly and cringed.
"Where were you? What were you doing?" Anna demanded, nonplussed. Seth in the meantime, brushed Summer's neck inadvertently as he took the scarf from her neck as well. Both of them ignored the delightful shiver that his touch created.
"Humiliatingly enough, I was in the bath tub," Summer wandered into the living room.
"Jesus, you could have drowned! You could have really been hurt!"
Summer laughed nervously. "Well, that's why Seth is here, right?"
"Oh, God, I'm so glad he was!"
"Okay, okay. I'm fine. It's 2 am. Go to bed," Summer insisted. She could hear Anna take a deep, relieved breath, exhaling loudly.
"Darling," Anna whispered, her voice lowering intimately.
"I know," Summer murmured back. She knew that it was killing Anna for them to be separated, the few times that it had been necessary in the past three years of their friendship it had nearly driven both of them crazy. Maybe Dr. Phil or some other asshat would call that co-dependent, but Summer felt stubbornly that it worked for her and Anna just fine.
"Seriously, go to bed, or you'll be dead on your feet tomorrow," Summer urged again.
"Goodnight," Anna said softly.
"G'night," Summer swallowed the lump in her throat. "I love you."
"Love you, too. I'll see you soon."
"Night." Summer ended the call. Seth was standing in the doorway of the living room, watching her. "I'm tired," Summer said. "And I never did get my bath. So if you'll excuse me..."
"Um, Summer... why don't I, um, sit in your room or something, maybe you can leave the door open? I promise, I promise not to peek or anything."
"What?" she frowned.
"You know, just in case..."
"Seth, I'm not five. I can do this on my own."
"Well, yes, but I don't think I can take more than one heart attack in one night," he explained, self-deprecating, as always.
Her expression softened just enough. "If you must."
"I'd like to," he assured her. "And you can just make lots of splashy noises so I know you're okay. And maybe you could even hum."
Summer smiled, bewitchingly. "I can hum."
To be continued...