Page 36 of Beneath Cherry Blossom Memories
“No,” I croak. “But I’m on my way.”
“And what is your name?”
“Phoenix Sawyer.”
She tells me it will be okay, and we hang up. I order an Uber while Jorge holds my shoulder. The app says it’ll be here in five minutes. That’s not fast enough, and I’m too far away from the hotel to walk. I don’t know how I know, but if I’m not there before the ambulance, Eli won’t cooperate. He hates doctors. My nose tingles while I stare at the map, watching the icon move in my direction.
“He’s been throwing up blood?” Jorge asks.
“Yeah. Yeah. I…fuck. I saw it weeks ago.” There’s silence, so I glance at my best friend. He seems disappointed with me. “I told him to call an ambulance then.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because it isn’t my job,” I snap, guts knotting. “And I was pissed off.” Tearing my eyes away, I go back to watching the map. “I left him there when he asked me to stay.”
He whistles low. “So what’s changed now?”
What’s changed? Nothing, really. We’re still in the same shitshow. He’s still an addict. But I heard it in his voice. Eli is scared. He’s scared and all alone. It’s like Oli all over again. Only my little brother didn’t call me. He didn’t call anyone. I guess that’s the difference. Eli trusts me enough to reach out when he’s in trouble, and I can’t turn him away again—not after all that I’ve learned and the guilt I harbor deep in my heart.
The Uber pulls up, and we hop in.
It all takes too long. We hit every red light and get stuck behind people on the strip—I’m terrified I won’t get there in time. Is he ODing like Oli? Is he unconscious? My palms are sweaty, so I wipe them on my pants. Everything is wound up tight, and I keep swallowing. I look over my shoulder at least six times.
Hurry up.
Needing to do something, I rip the hair tie off my wrist and put my hair back. Jorge watches me silently freak out and grabs my knee.
“We’ll get there,” he whispers.
I nod fast, heart in my throat.
We eventually get to the hotel, and I throw myself out of the car. The ambulance is parked outside the lobby. A fire truck is right behind it. My stomach swoops as my knees buckle. God, what is happening in there? Jogging into the hotel, I head straight to the elevator. He’s in room 23. The doors slide open, and we step inside. We ride up to the second floor. I rush out when the doors reopen and immediately hear him.
“Phoenix!”
I whimper, heading for the hotel room with its door open. “Phoenix!”
The paramedics are trying to get him on the gurney, but he’s fighting them. Thick tears roll down his cheeks. The bathroom looks like a crime scene. White hand towels are stained red, and his pants are soiled. His cheeks are ashen, lips chapped. “Stop touching me!”
“Are you Phoenix?” A woman paramedic asks.
“Yeah, yes. Let me in.” I don’t wait for permission and shove into the bathroom. “I’m here,” I tell him.
He sees me, and his shoulders drop. “I feel better. I don’t need to go anywhere.” But even as he speaks, he sags further against the wall, teeth chattering while he shivers. “I’m alright. Please make them leave.”
I drop to my knees, cup his face as gently as I can, and say, “You have to go to the hospital.”
Those dark blue eyes are haunting, swirling with fear. “I just need medicine.”
It looks like he raided a drugstore. Walgreens bags and an assortment of over-the-counter stomach meds are scattered everywhere. “They’ll give you medicine,” I promise and nod at the paramedics.
I move out of their way, but he grabs my hand, shaking so badly. “Don’t leave me.Pleasedon’t leave me.”
“I won’t. Just do what they say. Can you do that?”
His bottom lip quivers as he eyes the gurney. “I’m scared, Phoenix.”
“I know. I’m not going to leave you. But you need to let them take you.”
