Page 56 of The Plan

“No shit, Hazel. I asked who—never fucking mind.” Vid and August laugh at our interaction, and I focus on my plate. Once we’re done eating, the waiter takes our plates and asks if we wantdessert. Vid once again doesn’t make an effort to speak up, so I order her cake.

“Two slices of tres leche, please. No cherries.”

Hazel tells him she wants chocolate hazelnut cookies. When he walks away to get their desserts, August speaks up. “Speaking of hazelnuts, V, why do you call her hazelnut?”

Vid turns to him, shrugging. “I honestly can’t remember. I’ve been calling her that since before grade school.”

Hazel shakes her head. “I was hanging upside down by my feet on the monkey bars, and she said Hazel is nuts, then the name hazelnut just stuck.” That’s corny, but I don’t feel like getting bullied anymore, so I stay shut for a change.

Vid laughs as she recalls the memory, and I smile at the sound of it. “That is so corny, but I could’ve sworn I saw the word hazelnut somewhere and made the comparison in your name.”

“Yeah, that was a little after you started calling me hazelnut.” Vid nods, remembering, and the waiter returns with the desserts. When he places a slice of cake in front of me, I slide it to Vid, but she slides it back.

“I only wanted one.”

I shrug my shoulders and slide it back to her. “Save it for later then.” It’s her favorite, and it’s a small slice, so I know she’ll eat both pieces. She surprisingly doesn’t argue. She gives me a small nod, then eats her slice of cake and the second one. I knew she wanted it.

After a lot of bickering with the entire table, I paid for our meal. We’re all walking in no specific direction as we enjoy the weather.

“Help! We need a doctor!” We all turn around, and Vidia searches for where the man's voice is coming from. “Please, does anyone know CPR!?” She runs into a sketchy ass alley, and I follow behind her.

There’s a guy passed out with a needle in his arm, and the one that, I’m assuming, called for help is doing chest compressions. Vidia rushes over to them and checks the passed-out guy's pulse, then looks up at the one doing chest compressions. “What’s your name?”

“Larry.” He’s scratching his arms a bit too much, and I take a step back.

“Hi, Larry, my name is Vidia. I’m a doctor. Can you tell me what happened?” He doesn’t answer her, and Vidia looks down at his hand placement on the guy's chest.

“Call nine-one-one.” I start dialing, and Vidia pushes Larry aside and opens the passed-out guy's eyelids. I’m no doctor, but his pupils look very small.

I can’t tell if that’s bad or not because she stays calm and turns to Larry. “What did he take?” He’s pacing and twitching like he’s on some shit, and I want to grab Vid and get the fuck out of here.

I have my phone to my ear as I get a voicemail. What kind of fucking operator misses a damn emergency call? “The cops aren’t fucking answering.”

She starts panicking a bit since the guy under us doesn’t look too good and yells. “Answer me! What did he take!”

“Heroin!” She quickly reaches for her bag and pulls out some sort of nasal spray, which I’m assuming has naloxone in it. She sprays it into the guy's nose, and I’m pretty sure it only takes two or three minutes to work, but I don’t think he’s breathing anymore.

“Vid...” She feels his neck again. When she doesn’t get a pulse, she immediately starts CPR. She places her hands where they need to be for mouth-to-mouth, and I immediately push her aside to stop her. “Vidia, are you insane!? Do you at least have a mouth barrier or something?”

This man is clearly homeless or something, and she can contract so many things from him. She pushes me back with a lotmore force than I pushed her. “I’m a doctor, Sire. I’m not going to just let him die because I don’t have a damn mouth barrier.”

She leans down before I can stop her again and blows into his mouth. “Vidia, what the fuck!”

I take a step to her, but she gives me a warning look. “I swear to God, you better not stop me again, Sire.” I run my hands through my hair and then hear sirens behind us. Larry makes a run for it, and two paramedics rush in, but she tells them she’s a doctor.

They thankfully place a mask on the guy and use the bag thing, but there’s no point now since she already made mouth-to-mouth contact three damn times. I watch her do CPR on him for what feels like forever, but it’s too late. He’s gone. One of the paramedics stands up and takes a step back. “Doctor Gomez, he’s gone.”

“I can save him.” We know she can’t, but we let her try for another five minutes.

She looks like her arms are starting to get tired. I bend down on the ground next to her and put a hand over hers. “He’s gone, Vidia.”

She frantically shakes her head and keeps up with the CPR. “Vidia, look at me.” She turns her head in the opposite direction of me, and I pull her face to mine.

She has tears in her eyes that are threatening to spill but doesn’t stop the chest compression. “You need to stop, Vid.”

“No.” She squeezes the bag when the paramedic doesn’t, then goes back to compressions.

“She needs to stop.”

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