Love Beyond Words (City Lights: San Francisco Book 1) (28 page)

He helped Julian to his bedroom, helped him change into an undershirt and pajama pants, his eyes lingering over Julian’s body when he wasn’t looking. He set him up with ginger ale and soda crackers, and another dose of ipecac just when Julian started to improve. Good friend that he was, David held the wastebasket and wiped Julian’s mouth with great care when it was over.

Julian slept and in the early afternoon, felt strong enough to try to eat again. The diuretic David laced his soup with had him stumbling to the bathroom, and then more vomiting with another dose of ipecac-laced ginger ale. By early evening, Julian’s skin was a ghastly ashen color with bright flushes of red on his cheeks and neck. He couldn’t get out of bed by himself and so David held off on the diuretics. No sense in getting too messy.

Around seven o’clock, his cell phone on the nightstand rang. “It’s probably Natalie,” Julian croaked. “Tell her…”

“I’ll handle it.” David answered the phone with a curt, “Yes?”

“Uh…David?”

“Hello, Natalie.”

“Hi. Is Julian there?”

“He is, but he has taken ill with the flu. He can’t speak to you right now.” Julian was watching him. He flashed a smile that didn’t translate over the phone line. “If he’s up to it, he’ll call you in the morning.”

“Wait, David. He’s sick? Is it very bad?”

“It’s the flu,” he said, barely keeping the irritation out of his voice. “The usual symptoms.”

“I’d like to speak to him.”

Julian struggled to sit up. “I can talk to her…”

David waved his hand as if to say, “It’s no trouble at all.” To Natalie he said, “I think it’s best that he rest. We’ll see how he’s doing tomorrow.”             

Julian sank back into the pillows.

“Good night, Natalie. Thank you for calling. I’ll be sure to pass on your well-wishes.”

“Yes, tell him—”

David hung up. “We’ll try her again tomorrow.” He patted Julian’s hand and took the tray of crackers—uneaten—and the cup of ginger ale toward the kitchen.

“David,” Julian said, his voice was sleepy sounding and pathetically weak. “Could you bring me some water, please? I’m so thirsty.”

“Of course.”

“And David?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for being here.”

David met his eyes. “I will always be here for you, Julian. Always.”

In the kitchen he exulted. Would that this was his life permanently: complete mastery over that which he desired and complete dependence on him from same. Here was control. Here was total absence of panic and fear and helplessness. Natalie was locked out and Julian was at his mercy, unable to do anything but allow David to minister to him as he wished: to touch his skin, to change his clothes, to brush the hair from his eyes. It was a slice of perfection he wished he could stretch out indefinitely, but a few days would suffice for now. When Julian emerged on the other side of this illness, he’d take it easy, work slower—if at all—and, most importantly, he’d have a new appreciation for David who had cared for him when he needed him most.

David whistled as he poured Julian a tall glass of water. Three drops of ipecac diluted instantly and vanished. He carried it into the bedroom, and held Julian’s head as the poor man drank gratefully. And when Julian vomited again, heaving and coughing with an intensity that was almost frightening to behold, David knew Julian was grateful to him for holding the wastebasket.

Natalie called Julian twice the following morning and both times had received no answer. She was dressed and ready for class, but instead of walking down to 19
th
Ave for the bus to the university, she called a cab. She asked the driver to wait out front as she dashed into a local market and emerged with a bouquet of sunflowers, some steaming chicken soup from the kettles, and some ginger ale. She found it romantic, in an odd way, to imagine sitting with him, reading to him from the book she’d grabbed off her shelf—the
Collected Stories of Katherine Anne Porter
—or snuggling with him to watch an old movie.

But a twinge of something ugly tingled along her nerves to think that David had been taking care of Julian and might still be there when she arrived, unannounced. If David was still there, she’d insist he leave no matter what he—or Julian—might have to say about it.

Angelo was on duty that day as the doorman; he tipped his hat to her with familiarity, and Hank the security guard ushered her to the elevator, as her arms were laden. At Julian’s door, she didn’t bother to knock but keyed in the security code he had given her several days ago. Until now, she’d never had cause to use it. Until now, she had never been so glad to have it.

She opened the door to find David pacing the living room, his hand clapped over his mouth in panic. His clothes were rumpled and looked slept-in and she knew he’d been here all night. The apartment stank of sour foulness. Natalie’s stomach twisted, not for the stench, but from fear.

“What is going on?”

David let out a little shriek and then practically sagged in relief. “It’s…he’s…”

“Where is he?” Natalie said, but she was already setting down her parcels on the coffee table and heading toward the bedroom.

“Oh my god, Julian…”

He lay horizontally across the middle of the bed, on his left side but awkwardly. His left arm was splayed out behind him, his face was blank, his blue eyes staring at nothing while his mouth worked, speaking unintelligible Spanish. His sides heaved rapidly with gasping breaths, his lips were cracked and his eyes sunken so that Natalie thought he couldn’t possibly be the same man she had seen two days ago. A ghastly half-smile stretched his lips at the sight of her.

“
Oh, ahí estás. He traído… las flores, al igual…que usted pidió.”

Natalie rushed to him. “Julian…” His forehead was burning to the touch and dry as paper. Panic galloped through her, making her tremble. She rolled him over with effort so that he was on his back.

“
Llegué tarde hoy… pero te prometo que… no volverá a suceder.”

David’s shadow filled the doorway. “What’s he saying? I only speak a little…I think he’s babbling…”

“What happened here?” Natalie screeched. “Why is he like this?” She raced into the bathroom and returned with a wet washcloth as David paced and stammered.

“He has the flu. I mean, that’s what I thought. But he won’t stop vomiting. And I haven’t given him any…I haven’t given him anything to eat or drink.”

Julian’s eyes looked through Natalie in a way that made her own stomach clench. She felt his pulse and cried out in alarm. Its irregular, weak flutter was terrifying.

“Oh my god, call an ambulance! Why haven’t you called an ambulance?” she shrieked.

“An ambulance? He really needs…?”
              “Yeah, David, he really does!” Natalie reached for the phone by the bedside and tapped 9-1-1 with shaking hands. “I need an ambulance, please.” She gave her name and Julian’s address. “Oh please, hurry.”

She hung up and took Julian’s hand in hers.

“
Agua
…”

She whirled on David. “You know what
that
means, don’t you? When was the last time he had water? What is going on here, David?”

“Why are you so pissed at me? How should I know?” David shot back. His voice quavered. “He’s sick. I was taking care of him.”

“Yeah, you were taking care of him,” Natalie muttered sourly. She hurried to the bathroom and returned with a small glass of water. Her hands shaking, she held it for Julian to drink. Most of it spilled over his chin but she managed some into his mouth. It came back up immediately.

Natalie backed away slowly. “This isn’t the flu.” She wrung her trembling hands, paralyzed by fear and helplessness. “This is something else. Oh god…”

“I don’t know what to do for him,” David said and for once Natalie agreed.

The ambulance arrived in ten minutes though it felt like ten years. The EMTs were quick and efficient, exuding a cool competence that calmed Natalie. The words “severe dehydration” passed between them, and in moments they were wheeling him out of the apartment. Only one person was allowed to ride to the hospital with them. Natalie precluded David from even attempting to try with a dagger glare.

“Right, you should go,” he said, as if it were his idea. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Is he going to be all right?” Natalie asked one of the EMTs who rode in back with her. He fiddled with plastic bags of clear liquid and adjusting the air mask they had put over Julian’s slack mouth.

“Best to hear from a doctor, ma’am,” he said with practiced ease.

Natalie bit her lip. “I heard you say he was dehydrated? Is that very bad?”

“Can be,” the EMT said. He was young and good-looking, the kind of guy she imagined some women wouldn’t mind breaking an ankle for. He flashed a brilliant smile that meant nothing to her. “He’s stable now, we got fluids in him. Try not to worry.”

She took Julian’s limp hand in hers and clutched it protectively.
As if that were possible
.

#

At San Francisco General, Julian was extracted from Natalie’s grip and a polite but insistent nurse ushered her into a waiting area while he was wheeled away. As he vanished from sight, the strength left her. She sank into a stiff brown chair, put her head in her hands, and cried behind a curtain of her own hair.

David blew into the waiting room a few minutes later, arms flapping, hair flying.

“Where is he?”
              “In with the doctors,” Natalie said dully. She sniffed.

“Good. Any news yet?”

“No.”

“Okay. Right.” He sat a few chairs away, leg jumping, and rifled through magazines or skimmed over pamphlets about how to better manage diabetes, and which kind of cholesterol was good and which was bad. He glanced up to see her staring at him.

“What?”

“What happened, David?”

“What do you mean? I told you. He had the flu. It got worse. I’m not a doctor, Natalie…”

“Why didn’t you call one? What were you waiting for?”

“I panicked!” David screeched, drawing a disapproving glare from the nurse behind the glass. “What do you think happened?” he hissed. “I asked him if he felt like he needed to go to a hospital but he said no…”

“Really? You speak Spanish all of a sudden? It wasn’t incoherent rambling after all?”

“No, no, before. Before he started talking like that. Last night he wasn’t this bad.”

“That’s when you should’ve got him some help.”

“He didn’t want help!” David cried. “You know how he is! He’s stubborn…and intimidating. He said he wanted to sleep and so I let him. Get off my back, Natalie. I’m scared shitless too.”

Natalie didn’t want to back off. If she did, the fear would swoop in and destroy her. Better to hold on to the anger and direct it at David instead of being untethered, drowning in grief.
Not again! I can’t do this again…

When she realized her parents were gone she remembered searching for something; somewhere for her to go or do or think that wasn’t that awful pain, as if her soul had been trying to leap out of its body like a jumper from a burning building. And now a doctor was going to round the corner and she’d have to do it all over again. Only this time, there wasn’t another migration north, another city, another do-over. She didn’t have it in her. Her hands clenched until her nails cut her palms.

“I hate you,” she seethed at David and instantly regretted it.
God, what an ugly thing to say…

His eyes widened in genuine hurt. Then his open, clownish face took on a sharp, incisive look she had never seen before. “You think you’re the only one who cares about him?” He snorted. “You’re so selfish. You don’t even know how lucky you are.”

“I know
exactly
how lucky I am,” Natalie said, “and if you’ve ruined it…”

“And what about what you’ve ruined for me?”

Natalie sat back in her chair.

David’s scorn was potent. “Oh, hadn’t occurred to you, had it? That maybe there was an entire other dynamic going on that you know nothing about?”

“He doesn’t…I mean, he likes
women
…”

“Do you honestly think it’s all about sex? A man like Julian? He thinks on different levels. He sees
people
and not just
gender
. I’ve always had hope…” David’s eyes filled with tears and Natalie found her heart softening against her will. He wiped his eyes and took a breath. “But you’re here now and it is what it is. I’m just the employee again, except you
hate me
and will tell Julian to get rid of me and so I can’t even have his friendship.”