“Shit! Ryan!” I yell, dropping to his side. I check for a pulse and listen for breathing. He’s got both. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and I’m just about to call an ambulance when he lets out a moan.
He smacks his lips, and his eyes flicker open. His gaze meets mine.
“Are you okay?” I blurt. Tears drip down my face.
“Ugghhh.”
“Why?” I cry, plucking the bottle from his hand and throwing it in the trash. “Why do you keep doing this?”
“Sorry,” he moans.
I grab a washcloth from the closet, wet it, and begin dabbing at his forehead and neck. I’m wondering if I should call Daddy Denial to ask if I should take Ryan to the hospital when the doorbell rings.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Ryan. “Don’t move, got it?”
He shuts his eyes and keeps cleaning his face with the washcloth. I quickly check my appearance in the mirror—I’ve got red, puffy eyes.
I peer through the peephole. Will’s here, still in his jersey and baseball pants. He adjusts his cap. I pull open the door. “Hey.”
“Hi,” he replies, focusing on his cleats. “Can we talk? I dropped by because—”
“Can we talk later?” I rush to ask.
His head pops up. “What’s wrong?” He watches me wipe tears away. The smells of fabric softener and fried chicken threaten to make me sick.
He steps forward and wraps me in a hug. “Talk to me.”
The story tumbles out of my mouth. Will releases me and charges through the front door, with me on his heels. He finds Ryan and kneels down next to him. Will does the same thing I did: checks his pulse and listens to his breathing.
“Let’s take him to the hospital.”
“Are you sure?” I whisper.
“I’m fine,” Ryan slurs.
“I have never been so sure of anything,” Will says, finding my eyes. “We’re taking him in.”
At the hospital, we’re not allowed in the emergency room. Will paces around the waiting room while I pick at my orange nail polish.
Dad was on his way home from work when I called. He’s rushing over to the hospital now.
“Can you please sit with me?” I ask Will. “You’re making me nervous.”
He gives me a slight smile and slides in next to me. Our hips touch, and he leans over and wraps his hands behind his neck. Nurses and orderlies zip back and forth in front of us. The paging system calls for Dr. Turner to report straight to the ICU. A woman with a broken leg rolls by in a wheelchair.
“Thank you for bringing us,” I tell Will quietly. “An ambulance would’ve cost too much, and I don’t drive often.” I clutch my knees.
“Does this happen a lot? With your brother?” he asks.
“He’s always high, if that’s what you mean.”
“Has he ever ODed before?”
I shake my head. “Not that I know of. I can’t believe this.”
“Bad things happen sometimes.”
“Yeah.”
It’s cool that Will is here supporting me, and not judging. If anyone from Forrest Sanctuary finds out about this, I can’t imagine the grief the church will give my family. A few years ago, Tasha Reed drank too much at a field party and had to be rushed to the hospital, and everyone at church had a field day with that one for ages.
An orderly walks by pushing some medical contraption covered by cords. That’s when I see Veena over by the nurse’s station. She spots me. Her eyes narrow, and she tightens her ponytail, starting toward me. Her pink scrubs bring out her tan skin and brown curls, and I can’t believe Dad would be so stupid as to let our church convince him to give her up.
“What are you doing here?” Veena asks, as Will and I stand to greet her.
“Her brother’s in the ER. We just brought him in,” Will replies, and Veena’s gone, running toward a set of double doors before I even get to say hello.
Will helps me to sit back down and this time, he puts an arm around me and talks about how Bo was in the hospital a lot when he was little. “One time last year, he had pneumonia. Dad was in the room with him and he accidentally fell asleep. I guess Bo saw someone walking by with a bag of Doritos, so he ripped the IV out of his leg, climbed out of the hospital bed and ran down the hall after the chips.”
I laugh softly and smile over at him. “All you Whitfield boys are such trouble.”
“Proud of it.”
That’s when Dad comes rushing into the ER and lifts me into his arms. Then he sets me down and beelines for the nurse’s station. I ask them to page Veena, and sadness and confusion and hurt cloud Dad’s face when she appears from behind those ominous double doors.
“How’s my son?” he hurries to ask her.
“He’ll be fine,” Veena tells Dad, placing a hand on his arm, to calm him. “We pumped his stomach, but there’s no irreparable damage.”
Veins bulge in Dad’s throat. “Thank you,” he tells her. “For taking care of him.” Then Dad wraps a hand around the back of my neck and kisses the top of my head. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I reply. Veena averts her gaze, dabbing at her eye with a thumb.
“Dr. Matlock wants to keep Ryan overnight for observation,” Veena says.
“Should I call your mom?” Will asks me, touching my elbow.
“No,” Dad and I say at the same time. I don’t think either of us can take that right now. It seems like he just noticed Will is here with me, because his back goes rigid and he briefly shakes Will’s hand, avoiding his eyes.