The shop appeared empty, and our cries of “Walter!” were met with silence. Dread engulfed me as Miles and Patricia darted to the back door and wrenched it open against the howling wind. Their sharp cries told me all I never wanted to know. Walter’s body was out there. Dead. I wanted to sink onto the floor and wail, but I kept walking until I was outside.
Chapter FIFTEEN
WALTER LAY on the dock, white and still, eyes closed, with a large gash on his forehead, a puddle of what had to be blood under his head. No telling what had felled him, but a lot of debris littered the dock.
“Is he dead?” I squeaked.
“No! He’s breathing. Let’s get him inside.” Patricia went to move him, with Miles helping.
“Wait!” Sam knelt beside Walter’s body. “I’ve had EMT training. Let me check him out first, make sure he’s safe to be moved. That’s a nasty cut, and he’ll need it stitched up. Someone get on the landline and call 9-1-1. Tell ’em we need a transport to the hospital. Head wound. Shock.”
Miles darted inside.
My Lord, was there no end to Sam’s wonderfulness? Three fruit baskets and a spa weekend, I decided.
I came to Walter’s other side, knelt, and took his cold, wet hand in both of mine. “Walter? Dollface, we’re here. We’re getting help. Just hang on, okay?”
Sam meanwhile was poking and prodding, muttering to herself. Finally she stood. “Okay. Nothing feels broken. I hate to move him without being sure—” A huge gust of wind rattled the dock, and Sam frowned. “—but it’s too dangerous to stay out here. We can’t wait for the EMTs to get here with a board. Let’s get him inside.”
Sam and I hoisted Walter from the shoulders, with Patricia carrying his legs. If you’ve never tried to lift a person who’s dead weight, I have some advice—don’t even. That shit was hard! I probably would have suffered permanent back issues without Sam and Patricia instructing me in how to lift safely. My grunts and groans were embarrassing, but the gals paid no mind.
Despite our best efforts, Walter’s poor head lolled back. I felt so bad for him, along with a stab of fear over whether he’d even survive this ordeal. The fact that he hadn’t woken up even with us messing with him and talking to him made my stomach twist into knots.
“Did you get hold of 9-1-1?” Sam asked Miles, once we’d placed Walter on a blanket on the floor.
“Yeah. They said it’d be a while, though.” He gave Sam a large red box. “Here. I found one of the first aid kits in case there’s anything in there you can use.”
“Cool. Let’s get his legs up.”
“Why?” I asked as I helped her prop Walter’s feet on a chair.
“Improves blood flow to counteract shock. Get another blanket on him.”
While Sam rooted around in the first aid box, I found another blanket to put over Walter. Then I rubbed his arms and crooned to him, spouting sweet nothings and any nonsense I could think of so he could hear my voice and know he wasn’t alone. “We’ve got you, baby. We won’t let you fall.” It killed me to see competent, independent Walter unconscious—no longer able to help anyone, much less himself.
Patricia grabbed Miles, and they ran back outside to see if there was something further they could do for the boats. They appeared to all still be there, thank God. I could only assume that Walter had managed to secure them before he was felled by flying debris. I tore myself away from Walter long enough to call the bar and let Bootsie know the situation.
When the EMTs finally arrived, Walter still hadn’t woken up although Sam had assured me his pulse and breathing were regular. They bundled him onto a stretcher in no time flat to get him to the nearest hospital. I rode along in the ambulance while Sam and the others followed in the Ram. By the time I’d scrambled into the back, sharing cramped quarters with Walter, an EMT, and a bunch of equipment, they’d already stuck an IV in Walter’s arm. “For fluids” came the curt reply when I asked what it was for.
The hurricane-force wind had abated somewhat, although road conditions were still abysmal. We rocked from side to side as the ambulance navigated the debris-filled streets, siren wailing. I felt like wailing too. I’d been operating on pure adrenaline up to then, but sitting next to an unconscious Walter, not knowing when or if he’d ever wake up or whether he was seriously injured had me bawling like a baby. I’d never pretended to be anything other than an emotional basket case even at the best of times, and this wasn’t one of them.
The EMT with us in the back averted his eyes and almost visibly drew his manhood around himself, but I didn’t give a rat’s ass. I had every right to blubber, not just for me but for Walter, because he wasn’t awake to do it—and he probably wouldn’t have even if he was. And that last thought—that Walter wouldn’t allow himself to weep—made me cry even harder.
After pulling myself together and wiping my eyes with the sheet from Walter’s stretcher, I asked the EMT, “What do you think? How badly is he hurt?”
The EMT, a dark, hunky type—but not as hunky as Walter—started at being addressed by the blubbering mess that was me, but answered readily. “He’s probably lost quite a bit of blood from that head wound. And likely he’s in shock. It’s lucky you guys got to him when you did.”
“I wish we’d come sooner, but we never thought… I mean, Walter is… he’s….” I shut up as my lip started wobbling. I was one second from ugly crying again.
EMT’s voice was all gruff. “We’ll get him some blood and stitch up the wound. He’ll be okay.”
From his mouth to God’s ears, I thought, and I tried to pray, even though the Episcopal God of my childhood had always seemed a remote and disapproving figure.
At the hospital they whisked Walter away through the emergency department while Miles, as the only relative present, got to be interrogated by a receptionist type and the rest of us sank into uncomfortable waiting-room chairs.
Patricia popped to her feet. “Crap! We need to call Bootsie and let them know what’s up.”
I put a hand on her arm. “I called them when you guys were out with the boats.”
“Oh.” Patricia stayed standing, giving the phones on the emergency department desks a wistful glance.
“But if you want to talk to Sophia, by all means… be my guest. You can let her know we’ve made it to the hospital. Tell her the hunky EMT said Walter is going to be A-OK.”
After shooting me a smile, Patricia walked briskly to the reception desk, and whatever conversation she had with the unsmiling clerk ensured she was talking on a landline moments later. I slumped in my seat and closed my eyes.
The next thing I knew, someone was jostling my elbow and calling my name. “Huh?” I opened my eyes to find Miles standing there. A quick glance at the wall clock told me I’d been snoozing for twenty minutes.
“He’s doing okay. Not awake yet. I told ’em you’re Walter’s relative, so you can go back with me to see him.”
I stood, yawned, then pulled Miles to me in a hug. “You’re the best.” I peered around. “Where are Patricia and Sam?”
“They went to find us some food.”
Now that he’d mentioned food, my empty stomach screamed at me and I realized I hadn’t eaten a thing since last night. Last night, when Walter and I had feasted on omelets, key lime pie, and each other. In bed. My eyes filled yet again, and I sniffled as I shuffled after Miles to an area with curtained cubicles. As doctors and nurses passed us with quick, efficient strides, I relaxed a fraction knowing Walter was in their hands. Miles led me into Walter’s cubicle. He lay quietly, eyes still closed, with two IVs running into his arm.
“Blood transfusion?” I whispered to Miles.
“Yeah,” he whispered back. He gestured to a folding chair next to the bed. “Go ahead. Talk to your boy and get him to wake the fuck up.” He pulled out the chair. “Stop looking at me like that! If anyone can wake Walter up, you can.”
“Miles. Remind me later to tell you how much your wonderfulness has meant to an old fart like me.”
Miles actually blushed. “Shut up and get over here.”
I sat and took Walter’s hand. The gash on his head now sported a bandage. His color seemed better too. I found myself riveting on his long eyelashes, then remembered something.
“His glasses!”
Miles patted his pocket. “Right here.”
“Okay.” I caressed Walter’s hand, then his cheek. “Hey there, big boy. You wanna wake up for me now? You went and did your he-man thing, and I guess it didn’t go so well. At some point I might have a few words for you about that. But right now you’re alive and okay, and it’s time to wake up so I can see those gorgeous brown eyes of yours.”
I waited. Nothing. Not a twitch.
Before I could feel like too much of a failure, a doctor came in. “Hello. I’m Dr. Garcia. How’s he doing?”
“I don’t know. He’s not waking up.”
“I see. And you are…?”
Looking at Miles for a clue, I paused. “I’m Anthony. Walter’s, um, boyfriend.”
Miles gave a nod. “Yes. He’s family.”
“Okay. Let’s see if we can wake Walter up now.” Dr. Garcia walked to the other side of the bed and her approach was a lot more… straightforward. “Walter!” She yelled right into the poor man’s ear, meanwhile jostling his shoulder. Damn if it didn’t work, too! Walter’s eyes fluttered open.
“Oh my God!” I shrieked.
Walter’s gaze, which had been on Dr. Garcia, swiveled slowly to me. “Anthony?”
“Yes, babe! I’m so glad to see you awake! You silly man, don’t ever put me through this again or I’ll have to get very stern. A spanking might be in order. But only if you really want one, you darling dear man!” I heard Miles’s stifled giggle in the background, and Dr. Garcia cleared her throat across the bed from me. “Oops.”
“Wh-what?” Walter’s eyes hung on my face.
Poor guy. I would have to get the verbal runs right then. But I was so gloriously happy that I hardly knew what I was saying.
Luckily Dr. Garcia took over the conversation. “Walter, I’m Dr. Garcia. You’re in the emergency department at Lower Keys Medical Center. You have a head wound, and you lost a good deal of blood, so we’ve stitched you up and we’re giving you a blood transfusion.” She paused, but Walter had nothing to say, so she continued by pointing to Miles. “Can you tell me who this is?”
Miles stepped into Walter’s line of sight. “Hey there.”
“Miles?” Walter still seemed confused.
“That’s right.” Dr. Garcia leaned closer. “I’m going to shine an annoying light in your eyes right now.” I flinched in sympathy, but it didn’t seem to faze Walter. Dr. Garcia nodded, then put away her penlight. “Can I just ask you a few questions to see if your thinking is clear?”
She proceeded to ask him his name, date of birth, and what city and state we were in. He answered all of them like a champ while I beamed proudly at his brilliance.
“Very good. And who is the president?”
“Obama.”
“And we hope for Hillary, of course, next month. We’re with her!” I announced, having grown positively chatty in my giddiness.
Dr. Garcia gave me a friendly nod, then turned her attention back to her patient. “Do you recall what happened that resulted in the head wound?”
With a frown, Walter stared at the ceiling. “I… I’m not sure. I went to my dive shop to secure my boats—”
“Alone! And in this hurricane! We all told him not to, but—” I cut myself off when Walter’s expression clouded. Jeez Louise, I needed to get a grip. “Sorry. Go on, Walter.”
“Um, yeah. The last thing I remember was standing on the dock, working on tying down the catamaran. The wind was bad and stuff was flying through the air. I guess something got me, but I don’t remember what.” He reached up and touched the bandage.
“You were alone? That could have been deadly if you hadn’t been rescued. How did you get here?”
Walter looked to me. “I… don’t know.”
“We came and found you.” I squeezed his hand. “A great gal named Sam drove us to Back Bay in a big honking truck. Lord, babe, when we found you lying on that dock, I thought you were dead!”
“You… you came for me?”
“Of course we did! Me, Miles, Sam, and Patricia.”
Miles spoke up. “Dude, what Tony isn’t saying is he’s the reason you’re still alive. No one was doing anything until he announced he was going to get you. Then he stood on a fucking chair in Cap’n Otto’s and harangued us until Sam volunteered to drive us over.”
The expression in Walter’s eyes puzzled me. I couldn’t read it. “You saved me,” he said.
“Well… yes. I guess I did. Just like you saved me from the river twelve years ago. So now we’re even. And don’t you go moping about any of that, or any of this. Just be thankful you’re alive and we still have time to be together!”
He averted his eyes.
“Walter?”
Silence.
“He’s probably ready to sleep again.” Dr. Garcia patted Walter’s shoulder. “You rest now, Walter. We’ll be waking you up soon enough.”
Miles asked, “Are you keeping him overnight?”
“Yes, we’ll need to monitor him over the next twenty-four hours. Let me work on getting him a room. I’ll be back soon.”
Miles accompanied her out the door, asking her a question I couldn’t hear.
“Anthony?”
I whirled back to see Walter’s sweet eyes on me. “Hi there! How are you?”
“Um, I’m good.” He frowned. “Are you… good?”
“Me? Of course! I’m just so freaking glad you’re alive!” I would have burbled on, but I stopped myself because Walter lifted his head and opened his mouth like he was trying to say something.
Finally, he spit it out. “I’m… I had to be.” Then he lowered his head onto the pillow again.
“Yeah?” I asked softly.
“I promised you I would.” He gave my hand a small squeeze as his eyes fell shut. In a moment a faint snore told me he’d fallen asleep.
All I wanted to do was plop my head on Walter’s shoulder like old times. Walter had always been the strong one—the rock—and I’d been the overemotional basket case. But Miles’s words had struck me: I’d been strong! I’d gotten us to rescue Walter in the middle of a hurricane! Hot damn! I gave a happy yawn and leaned over to rest my head on Walter anyway, because shoulders like his didn’t come along very often.
MILES AND I spent a lot of time hanging out in the hospital room that afternoon and evening while Walter slept and recovered. He taught me to play gin rummy. I’m not a card person, because I get bored too quickly. But gin rummy was interesting enough, and watching Miles play gave me an opportunity to ogle him. I was no longer interested in hitting that, but as an artist I can appreciate beauty when it’s foisted on me. We got into some interesting discussions too.
“So tell me about the foundation.” Miles put down a card and selected another.
“The Pellegrini-Vallen Foundation? What do you want to know?”
“What’s it all about?”
I studied my hand but couldn’t figure out what to do next. I put down a card at random and got another. “It’s for youth. Kind of twofold—to give educational scholarships to poor youth, and to create safe spaces for LGBTQ youth.”
“That’s cool. Any particular reason for the ‘poor youth’ part of it?”
“Marco and Sophia grew up in poverty.”
“Really? Wow.”
“I know, right? You’d never know it to look at them now, but they hardly had a pot to piss in as kids. Marco has talked about how being poor gave him this insane drive to succeed.”
A smile curved Miles’s lips. “I can see that in him.”
“Sugar, you don’t know the half of it! He’s actually mellowed out a lot since he and Jonny got together.”
“And the LGBTQ part I can understand. You’re all queer
as fuck.”
I laughed. “Why, thank you, sir! Yep, Marco and Sophia are bisexual. Jonny and I didn’t have the poverty thing—we’re from a stinking rich family—but we’re both flaming gay. So we all had experiences as kids that it would’ve been nice to have support for. As you understand, I’m sure.”
“Not really.”
“No? What do you mean? Didn’t you get shit in school for being genderfluid?”
Miles’s expression screamed you poor old fart. “Kids in my alternative high school were all colors of the rainbow, and nobody gave a fuck. That’s not why I hated that school. No, it was more because they were trying to run it almost like a military school while pretending they were all enlightened and shit.”
“Oh. Not good.”
“Right. Anyway, I’d love to help out at your foundation.” He put his cards down and announced, “Gin.”
“Oh, pooh.” I threw down mine and stretched. “You would? I mean, volunteer at the foundation?”
“I’d love to.”
“So you’d move to Boston?”
“Sure. Not like I’m doing anything earth-shattering with my life here.”
“But what will Walter do without you?”
“Walter was doing just fine before I showed up to plague him. I think the real question is, what will Walter do without you?”
I sighed. “Don’t even go there, dollface. I’m not ready to think about all that.”
“Well, what’re you guys going to do? Now that you found each other again, you can’t just walk away. Right?”
“Right! But I’ve got a job and an ad team back in Boston that I can’t just ditch for true love.”
“Why not?”
Talk about a romantic! Miles had us all beat. “Because real life doesn’t work that way. And I don’t know that Walter even wants that. Yet. Also, I can’t just desert the foundation. And Florida seems… dangerous, what with the hurricane and those big-ass flying bugs and such.” I gave him a saucy smile, but he wasn’t buying it.
In Over Our Heads Page 16