A/N: Was leaving on a cliffhanger cruel? Maybe - but hey...at least you find out what happens now, right? Enjoy and thank you for reading!
I was in a sudden panic. My heart was beating three times its normal rate, and my pores were oozing with salty fear, but somehow I stayed able-headed enough to refrain from blanking out. The 'what to do in an emergency' preaching from my childhood came flooding back, and it wasn't long until I sprinted across the apartment as fast as my little legs could get me there.
From the kitchen, I dialed the widely known three-digit number to request an ambulance, a doctor, a dentist – anything that could provide assistance and make Artie okay. I paced around the kitchen, listening to the operator's instructions to stay calm and his guarantees that help was on the way. Every few seconds, I looked around the corner at the still man on the couch, waiting for him just to perk up and say, "There's nothing to worry about, teapot. I'm okay", but no such thing happened.
When I got off the phone with the cool-toned operator, I returned to my previous place on the edge of the couch with Artie. Bringing my right pointer and middle finger to the left side of his neck, I felt for a pulse. To my relief, a rhythmic and strong beat throbbed beneath the pads of my fingertips. I looked down. His chest was moving…even if I swore it hadn't fifteen minutes prior.
Afraid that I may have overreacted and called 911 for no reason but my observation deficiency, I once again tried to wake Artie. However, like before, neither my touch nor voice could regain his consciousness. Either way, something was very wrong.
Keeping a close eye my deep sleeper, I remained in the living room until there was a knock on the door. I jumped to my feet accordingly, opened the door, and in rushed a small mix of men and women wearing navy blue scrubs with white embroidery on the breasts.
I kept to myself and out of the way. They threw questions at me, particularly the blonde woman with her mane pulled to the nape of her neck that was secured with a black elastic band. I responded as thoroughly as I could in a quiet, shy, and fearful voice as I periodically brushed stray hair behind my ears.
They couldn't wake him either.
Our neighbors were clustered outside their doors, all with a combination of morbid and worrisome thoughts written on their faces. I had to avoid their gaze for my own sanity as I followed a total of four people, including the one on the stretcher, into the elevator. So badly, I wanted to hold his hand to feel his warmth and life, so I could tell myself that he was going to be okay. He had to be okay.
I had never been in an ambulance before. As a kid, I was pretty lucky, and my worst injuries were cuts and scrapes. Artie was a different story. I remembered when he first told me the story, or as much as he could remember, of the accident that left him paralyzed. How scared he was. Sure, he was a grown man, but I could easily imagine his terrified eight-year-old self coming out if he were to wake up in the back of an ambulance, surrounded by strangers, and not remembering how in the world he got there. Sitting in the front with the concentrated driver as he defined road rules, I became anxious to know what was going on behind me. I had so many questions, and none of there were going to be answered promptly.
In the Lima General Hospital waiting room, I stalled on calling Artie's family, or even mine, until I had more information to share and something behind me to answer questions with. To keep my mind off the drama, I read through the selection of magazines available – all of which were out of date and completely irrelevant to my life. Neither was I a parent or a bride to be…yet.
I hadn't expected an immediate diagnosis, but I sure wasn't prepared for the two hours it took for a staff member to come down and talk to me. To my luck, it was the familiar face of Dr. Harper.
"He's awake now if you'd like to see him."
"Dr. Harper…what's wrong…what happened?" I asked, standing up from my chair to see the tall man's face clearer.
"We're not really sure, Tina," he answered. My heart sank into my chest. "My first guess would be the medication he's on. It seems that he had a severe allergic reaction to one of the ingredients that caused his blood Ph to spike."
"But….he's going to be okay, right?"
The doctor nodded, "We were able to neutralize just in time. Acidosis can be deadly if not treated quickly enough."
"Oh."
"But enough of that. He requests your presence."
Dr. Harper led me through the hospital and up to the third floor. Twisting through the corridors, we came to a large and enclosed room with blue curtains weaved around hospital beds. I followed close behind Dr. Harper until he stopped at one of the fabric walls, and slid it open like a shower curtain.
Artie was propped up in bed in a plain patterned white cotton gown. A few thin blankets were layered over his lap. From his left forearm, a tube hung extended up to a large plastic bag on a rack that was next to the bed. His pale, but healthy, complexion had returned, and the whites of his eyes only contained fragments of light pink. With a naked face, he smiled as I walked deeper into the room. Holding my hands in front of my groin, I looked back at Dr. Harper in the doorway.
"I'll come back later," he nodded.
Once the curtain was closed, I walked up to the edge of the bed and scooped my hand under his before taking a seat. Artie squeezed my fingers and I rubbed the top of his veiny hand with my thumb.
"I understand now," he softly said, breaking the silence.
"Understand what, Artie?" I asked.
"Why you were so guarded about getting involved with this trial. You were right. It's an experiment."
"Artie, they didn't know that you were going to have an allergic reaction…"
"And now you're defending it."
Looking down, I sighed and squeezed Artie's hand before pulling my own away. The look on his face exerted regret, and he bit his lip, ready to apologize for snapping at me. However, I brought my legs up and scooted back against the pillows, turning on to my side to face him. Resting my head on his shoulder, I wrapped my arms around his weaker than normal bicep.
"Does this mean you want to pull out of the program?" I asked, looking up at him.
"I-I don't know," Artie responded, shaking his head.
"It's okay if you do," I said, placing a hand on his chest. "I love you the way you are. Y-you don't have to change for me."
"Thanks, Tina," He said, smiling slightly. "But I don't even know if continuing is an option anymore."
"Why?"
"If I'm really allergic to the medication…"
"Oh."
"So we'll just have to wait and see."