Sophie's Encore (18 page)

“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you there?”

I spoke for the benefit of the operator as well as my own, explaining what I was doing while I stepped over the puddle, pulled Dan away from the vomit and checked hastily but carefully that he was breathing. The operator acknowledged my every action with a calm, “Good.” Only when Dan was back safely on his side and away from the pool of sick did I pick up the phone, disengaging the speaker phone as I did so.

“I’m frightened, really frightened.” I nearly cried.

“Keep calm,” the operator advised. “You’re doing great.”

“I…I need to make sure he stays on his side. I need to hold him steady. Will you stay on the line?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Okay. But…I…I just need to put you down a minute, okay?”

The operator was unflappable. “You do that, I’ll be right here for you.”

I put the phone back down again and kept ahold of Dan. Rachel entered the room and grimaced but said nothing. She didn’t need to. Her entire body told me that this wasn’t looking good. Still, she set to work, scooping big gloops of vomit into a plastic bag with my dustpan, sponging the floor and sprinkling liberal amounts of bicarb of soda over the affected area.

“I’ll have another go when you’re gone, but you might want to get this professionally cleaned,” she ventured. It seemed callous and cruel to talk carpet logistics, but we were both holding on to practical things while we were waiting for the medics. Yet there was something on my mind, something that I needed to talk about before the ambulance arrived. I reached across and pressed the mute button on the phone so the operator wouldn’t be able to listen in for a moment.

“Dan doesn’t do drugs,” I told Rach, simply because I needed to get that fact straight.

And it was true, Dan had never done drugs before, ever. Never, ever, ever. I was one hundred percent certain of that. The band had always been fantastically proud of their clean lives.

Rachel looked up from her scrubbing. Her eyes flicked to the phone and her face said,
are you crazy?
I shrugged and mimicked holding the phone while placing a finger to my lips. Rachel widened her eyes in response and nodded.

“Well, he has now.” Her voice was low and gentle, as if untrusting of my phone’s mute function. “It adds up. His tiredness, his hyper activity, the sudden crashing, the extreme cheerful moods…” She let that hang for a moment before continuing. “I would guess that he’s been taking boosters.”

“Boosters,” I echoed numbly. “Boosters don’t sound too bad, right?”

Rachel was blunt in correcting me, but there was no judgment in her voice. “He’s been taking Ritalin, or E.”

“Ritalin? E?” I stroked Dan’s hair in agitation while I digested this piece of information.

“
E
, as in Ecstasy? It can kill people! Why would he do that?”

Rachel sighed. “They’re stimulants. They keep you going and going until your body pulls the plug and you drop. Looks like Dan’s dropped.”

I swallowed hard, recalling the metaphor of the supernova that I applied earlier that day. I had worried about when he would burn out. I had had no idea how close I had been to the mark. If only I had
thought
properly. If only I had spoken with Rach before. If only…

I didn’t get a chance to voice my thoughts because the ambulance arrived at that moment. Rachel ran downstairs to let them in while I stayed glued to Dan’s side.

Within seconds, my peaceful little bedroom was full of people. There were three ambulance crew members and they got to work immediately. Two of them looked after Dan while the third one quickly closed the call with the operator before addressing me with a sequence of questions that I answered as best I could. No, I wasn’t his wife. No, I wasn’t next of kin. Yes, I was a good friend. Yes, he had come to the house under his own steam. No, I hadn’t been with him during the evening. All the while, I watched in dismay as they inserted an IV into Dan’s hand, attached a saline drip, fitted an oxygen mask.

The paramedics began assessing his condition. “How long has he had this high temperature?”

“I don’t quite know. He felt feverish when he left earlier this evening, but I didn’t take his temperature. He seemed all right. I think he knew he was hot, he—” I bit my lip.

“He what?” prompted the medic.

“He made a joke about it. He said…he said I was burning him up inside.” The medic looked at me blankly. “It’s a line from one of his songs,” I supplied.

“Oh, right. Well, from the state of him, I would assume his temperature has been too high for quite some time. Is he taking any medication?”

I stared at the wall, avoiding Rachel’s gaze. “He…he’s had a prescription for some things from his GP, but I don’t know exactly what for. He’s had this really bad cold, and he needed to keep recording so…”

The medic gave me a searching look. “Anything else? Alcohol? Drugs?”

“I don’t know,” I tried to evade. “He was at a party tonight. When I first found him, I assumed he was drunk. I’m sure he drank.” It would have been foolish to deny that Dan was full of booze.

“Drugs?” the other medic persisted.

I shrugged. “I’ve never known Dan do drugs, and I’ve known him a long time. This isn’t like him.” I connected two truthful statements that didn’t really answer the question.

Dan was unconscious through all of this, although he was agitated and occasionally mumbled incomprehensibly. Rachel grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

The second paramedic, the one who had insisted on the drug question, looked up at us.

“He’s exhibiting all the signs of having taken something,” he stated matter of fact. “It would help if you could tell us. We can treat him faster.”

Rachel and I finally exchanged that tell-tale desperate glance.

“We’re not the police. We only want to help him,” the first medic chipped in. Rachel cleared her throat as though to speak, but I got there first.

“He had this in his hand.” I proffered one of Dan’s pills. “He wanted to take it, but I didn’t let him.”

The first medic took the pill from my outstretched hand, peering at it closely before putting it into a plastic bag without comment.

“Thank you,” the other medic said. “You might have just saved his life. We’re ready to go.”

They lifted Dan onto a stretcher and covered him with a blanket.

“May I… Please, can I come with him?” My voice wobbled at the prospect of being turned down.

“Of course. Please do.” Medic One smiled encouragingly. “Give us a minute to get him into the ambulance.” The two medics stretchered Dan out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Miraculously, the kids were still asleep. In the tiny moment of being alone with Rachel, I gave her a big hug.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I had to tell. I’m sorry. I couldn’t not.”

“You did the right thing,” Rachel said. I smiled, briefly, and hugged her before I went down to join Dan in the ambulance.

Chapter Thirty

“Your friend has a severe case of pneumonia.” The doctor’s face was calm and exuded confidence as she smiled and extended her hand to greet me. “It looks bacterial, but we’ll have to wait for the test results to be sure. Meanwhile, we’re giving him antibiotics. He’s also on a drip, and he’s still receiving extra oxygen. He’ll need to be in hospital for a few days.”

She paused and cleared her throat. “He has a lot of alcohol in his system, and we’re also testing for other drugs. He’s not in a great condition, and, to be honest with you, it’s a little touch and go at the moment. He should pull through, but I can’t say for certain until I know what he’s taken, and how bad the pneumonia is.”

I could feel tears pricking the back of my eyes. “When will you know?”

The doctor gave me a sympathetic look. “Well, his temperature is coming down with the medicine we’re giving, so that’s good. His heart rate is steady, and his breathing has eased with the oxygen. Those are all good signs. I would say the next twelve hours will tell us more. We’re doing everything we can.”

“Do people really die from pneumonia, in this day and age?” I simply couldn’t contain my panic.

The doctor looked me plainly in the eyes. “A very small number of people do die from pneumonia, even in this day and age. Sometimes, we can’t save them.” She paused and rubbed her eyes. After a little sigh, she resumed speaking.

“I don’t think your friend will die. But I can’t tell you that he will pull through for sure until the drug screen is back and I have an idea what other damage might be harming his system. I need to know that the medicines are working before I can reassure you one hundred percent. I wish I could give you better news, but we will simply have to wait. He is young, though, and you say he doesn’t smoke. He looks to be fit and healthy otherwise. This will all work in his favor.” She tilted her head. “Why don’t you go and see him for a moment?”

“Is he awake?” Sudden hope blazed in my soul, only to be dashed instantly.

“No. But it will still do him good to hear your voice.” She handed me a mask. “You’d better wear this, in case he’s contagious.”

Deflated, worried sick and sporting the proffered mask over my mouth and nose, I trudged after the doctor as she led me to Dan’s room. I had been waiting for this moment for three hours, and I was woozy with exhaustion.

Dan looked pale and fragile against the white sheets. Tubes snaked into his veins and nose, and the telltale purple smudges were lodged under his eyes again. Every now and then, his eyelids fluttered as though he was waking up, but he was probably dreaming. The doctor pulled up a chair for me and encouraged me to sit.

“Take your time,” she advised. “Talk to him. He will hear you. It will help.” And with that, she left.

At first, I didn’t know what to say. I simply looked and prayed and let a million thoughts run free in my head. At length, the tears came, one or two at first, followed by a veritable torrent. I was terrified at the loss of my friend, my rock, my rock star. Grasping his hand in both of mine, I stroked his palm, his fingers, his wrists. His skin was warm, yet clammy, but at least he had stopped shivering. His hand lay limp and unresponsive in mine, even though I had irrationally hoped he might squeeze back. My vision blurred as yet more tears came, and I wanted to lie down beside Dan and howl.

Of course, I did no such thing. I simply sat and cried until there were no more tears left. In my mind, I was speaking, I was ranting.
Please don’t leave me. Don’t leave me. I can’t bear to lose you. I can’t bear to lose another man I love. Don’t do this to me. I’m sorry, Steve. I’m so sorry, but I need this man, now. Don’t leave me, Dan. You promised to look after me. And the kids. Don’t go. Don’t go.

The urgency and despair in my head surprised me. Yes, I had been shocked, terrified even, when I had found Dan collapsed on my landing, but I had been too busy trying to deal with the situation to figure out how deeply my feelings ran. Yes, I had once again been harboring a secret fantasy, a physical attraction for this man for some time now, even though I had been in conscious denial about it. Yes, I had arguably been cavalier about my own feelings, and his. But I simply hadn’t understood what was going on. I hadn’t comprehended what had happened to me, slowly, gradually, imperceptibly.

I was in love with Dan all over again.

The realization hit me with full force. I had fallen in love all over again, even if it had taken a trip to death’s door for me to see the truth, plain as daylight. How could I have been so blind?

Worse, I knew he loved me, too. I knew he had always loved me, had never stopped. I had known all along. I had known from the songs he wrote and from the way he had always been there, other women or not. I had known from the way he looked at me, even on my wedding day. I had known from the way his heart had broken for me when Steve died, and from the way it mended when he held Emily in his arms. I had known it when Rachel told me, I just hadn’t been able to acknowledge it.

Two people—two stupid people—in love with each other, unable to see, to say, to do something about it. Would we have figured it out, would
I
, had it not been for this dreadful interlude?

I sat back in my chair and laughed. I laughed and laughed and laughed, loud, clear peals of merriment. I was in love.
We
were in love.

I had no idea what to do with this feeling. I had no clue where we would go from here. Would we ever be lovers? Or would we invent a new art form of unhappiness, the mutually unfulfilled love? If and when he woke up, could I tell him?
Should
I tell him?

I gripped his hand again. “Do you know what you’ve done?” I whispered. “Do you know what you’re feeling? Do you have a plan?”

Of course, I didn’t get an answer. I didn’t expect one. Pushing back my chair, I got up and took a few steps along the bed. I bent down and put my mouth by Dan’s ear, stroking his face with my hand as I spoke words only for him.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever tell you this face-to-face when you’re awake, you great big fool of a man. But I love you. I love you.”

Chapter Thirty-One

“How is he?”

A pale and tired-looking Rachel greeted me when I returned home shortly after six a.m. She wrapped her arms around me and led me to the sofa. “Here, sit down. I’ll make you a cuppa. You look as though you could do with one.”

“That would be lovely, thanks.” I smiled, feeling every bit as wan and tired as my best friend looked. It hadn’t been a restful night for either of us, although, mercifully, the kids still appeared to be asleep.

“He’s got pneumonia, they say,” I informed Rachel when she pressed a steaming mug of tea into my hand. “They were still running tests and drug screens and all that when I left. They know he’d drunk a lot, but…” I fizzled out.

“Pneumonia?” Rachel reiterated. “How’d he come by that?”

“I don’t know yet. I didn’t know people still got pneumonia, really. And…” Tears pushed inside my eyes as I recalled the conversation with the doctor. Rachel took my hand and rubbed it gently.

“And what? What is it?” Her voice was full of concern.

“He might die.” There, I said it. It sounded as bad spoken aloud as it did running endlessly around in my head.