Nick of Time

by Julianne Q Johnson

  I get Daphne to try my spider roll, a delightful concoction of crispy fried soft shelled crab wrapped into a roll with cucumber and avocado. She gets me to try a sweet egg sushi called tamago. I'm pleasantly surprised by the tamago. The rectangle of delicately scrambled egg is creamy in texture and slightly sweet, which plays well against the soy sauce and wasabi I dunk it into. It's good enough that I order more for myself when we place a second order.

  Tomorrow we fly to Ireland and who knows what we will find there. Tonight is for Daphne and me. When we get home, I take her by the hand again and lead her into my apartment and straight to the bedroom. Not only does she come willingly, she smiles and laughs as if she's in a fairytale kingdom instead of my dull apartment full of mismatched furniture.

  I'll let tomorrow take care of itself. Tonight is mine.

  Eighteen

  We've showered and dressed, had leftover donuts for breakfast, double checked our passports, gathered our luggage, and we are ready to soar.

  My phone tweets at me and I check the text message.

  "Let's roll, sweetie. Our ride's here."

  "Our ride?" She looks so cute the rare times she's confused. "We aren't taking your car to the airport?"

  "Nope. I didn't want to waste money on long term parking, so I called my favorite Riderz driver."

  We both have rolling suitcases and small carry-ons, so we make it downstairs in one trip. At the curb, the pimpmobile is waiting in all its outlandish glory. Todd is waiting by the trunk, ready to load our luggage.

  "Bro, you cray." Todd sets Daphne's suitcase in the trunk as I get my own. "You didn't have to go through the system. I would have taken you to the airport for free."

  "No way, Todd. You were logging hours, and I wasn't going to make you miss a fare because I suddenly decided to go to Ireland."

  As we settle into the car and buckle up, Todd asks about the reason for our trip. I tell him about Grandma Fiona maybe knowing a way to end the curse, but I don't get into the whole Sidhe thing. It's too fantastical. Todd's my friend no matter what, but I don't feel like forcing him to question my sanity.

  "Good. It's about time you had a break. You know, I used to research curse stuff online trying to find an answer to your predicament, but I never found anything which sounded even close to what's happening to you."

  Maybe I'm not giving my friend enough credit. I'll leave it for now, but I plan to tell Todd the truth when we get back. Hell, I suppose it's no weirder than Quan's fox with nine tails.

  Before we know it, we're being dropped off at departures and the porter tags and takes our suitcases for us.

  "When you get there and your cousins ask how the flight was, don't forget to tell them your arms are tired!" Todd shouts through the window as we wave goodbye.

  It takes forever to get through security. The metal detectors and body scans aren't enough to satisfy the powers that be, they make us jump through hoops in order to fly. Compared to how flying was when I was younger, it seems ridiculous. I don't think any of this circus makes us any safer, it's just annoying.

  Eventually, after our motives for traveling have been questioned by bored workers who seem like they couldn't care less, we make it into the airport proper. Daphne had insisted we get to the airport painfully early, which ended up being a good idea. Even so, we had time to sit down in a coffee house and enjoy a cup.

  The flight to Washington was uneventful; a miracle with my life being what it is. Our layover isn't long enough to see any sights, but we have time to grab some lunch at a nice sit-down restaurant. There's a good looking sushi place, but we just had sushi. We pass on an Italian place which seems to mostly have pizza and salads. Then we find just the thing. Legal Sea Food has a modern clean look and a decent variety on the menu. Seafood sounds like a lighter option to have before a long Transatlantic flight.

  The service is quick and friendly. The food is awesome. Daphne chooses the seared shrimp and I cannot resist a combo plate with a giant crab cake, grilled shrimp, and scallops in mustard sauce. I may want to eat lighter, but I'm still the man with the hummingbird metabolism. I feel the need to fuel up a bit before the flight.

  It's a huge jet and boarding takes forever. Finally, we are on our way. It might be a crazy reason we're going to Ireland, but I'm excited about going all the same. My entire family, on both sides, is Irish. I've always wanted to visit the Emerald Isle, I even got a passport for that very thing, and then my crazy life put all my thoughts of travel on permanent hold. Now I'll finally get to see where my ancestors came from, and no thoughts of the Sidhe can quell my anticipation.

  Daphne and I talk almost nonstop until it's time for dinner. The food is simple but tasty. Simple works for me. I'm not very picky...I'll eat just about anything. After dinner, the conversation slows and stops. We are both getting tired. The truth is, we didn't get much sleep last night. Soon we grab our tiny pillows and blankets the size of beach towels and drift off to sleep.

  I wake with a jolt and blink around myself in confusion. In time I realize I'm on the jet, but I can't for the life of me figure out what woke me up.

  Across the aisle from where I sit, an overweight, middle-aged man is leaning forward in his seat, breathing heavily. The lights of the flight have been dimmed in consideration of passengers who are sleeping, but even in this eerie twilight, I can see he doesn't look good.

  "Hey, man, you all right?" I ask.

  "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I've just got the worst indigestion of my entire life."

  "Well, hang in there, buddy."

  "Thanks."

  I raise my seat to its upright position and fold up my towel-sized blanket. Daphne snoozes on beside me but I won't be joining her in slumberland again. One thing is crystal clear to me. My curse didn't wake me up for mere indigestion.

  Thirty minutes later, the guy across the aisle reaches for his bottle of water with his left hand and it slides from his grasp and skitters away across the floor of the jet. This is enough for me to decide it's show time and I unclip my seatbelt and stand up.

  "What's going on?" I take a closer look at the guy's face. He's white as a sheet and his face is beaded with sweat but when I hold my wrist to his forehead, it's cold and clammy.

  "My stomach hurts. And I feel like I have an elephant sitting on my chest. I can't seem to catch my breath."

  "What's your name, sir?"

  "Blaine."

  "All right, Blaine. I'm Nick, and I am certified in first aid and CPR. I'm going to help you if that's all right."

  "Yes. Yes, of course."

  "Do you have any history of heart issues?"

  "Oh my God, is this a heart attack? Am I having a heart attack?" Blaine's eyes widen and his voice rises an entire octave on his second question. It's getting breathier as well, which isn't a good sign.

  "Maybe, but try not to worry. I've helped people through this before and I'm going to help you. Now, any history of heart issues?"

  "No. I've been having indigestion problems for a few weeks. I thought it was stress."

  "Are you allergic to aspirin?"

  "No. I...uh...no."

  "Okay. You try to stay calm, I'm going to get us some help just in case we need it."

  I look around and see a young woman sitting in an aisle seat and staring at us in alarm.

  "You," I say calmly, pointing at her so there can be no mistake about who I mean. "Go find a flight attendant now. Tell them we have a medical emergency."

  She looks even more alarmed, but immediately unbuckles and heads for the front of the plane to get help. My new friend, Blaine, is looking weaker and is now slumping in his seat. Time to move him, I think. Reaching behind myself, I grab my folded blanket to use as a pillow. Then I lean forward and unbuckle Blaine's safety belt.

  "All right now, Blaine. I think it's time to get you a little more comfortable."

  With my help, Blaine is soon lying in the aisle of the plane. Damn but the aisle is a tight space, but it's the best we have. I step over him awkw
ardly and settle in near his head. I can keep an eye on his vitals from here and even use the defibrillator, if necessary, by leaning over him.

  A young flight attendant with a fin haircut comes up behind me and taps my shoulder to get my attention.

  "Sir, what's happening? Are you a doctor?"

  "No, but I am certified and have extensive experience in CPR and First Aid. This man is having a heart attack. I need the AED and some aspirin if you can get me some."

  "Right away."

  "Hanging in there?" I ask Blaine.

  "Yeah, it's better lying down."

  "Good."

  It's another sign of heart trouble. If his breathing was the issue, he would feel worse lying flat.

  A different attendant rushes up behind me and hands me an aspirin bottle and a bottle of water. I set the water in my empty seat. It's never a good idea to give someone having a heart attack anything to eat or drink. I pop the top on the aspirin and tip out two tablets.

  "Blaine, I have some aspirin here. I need you to chew up two tablets and swallow them. I know it will taste bad, but it will help, I promise."

  The guy tries to reach up a hand to take them but he's become too weak.

  "No, don't you worry," I reassure him. "Just open up and I'll pop them in."

  I watch as he chews and swallows, worried about choking, but he has no difficulty with the simple task.

  By now, most of the passengers near me have awakened and I hear a near-constant stream of people asking the flight attendants what is going on. Daphne also wakes up and asks me if I need anything.

  "No, I'm fine. Get some more sleep if you want."

  "Nonsense. I'll stay up in case I can help."

  The young man with the fin haircut taps me on the shoulder. He is carrying the AED portable defibrillator unit. I turn sideways in the cramped aisle and sit cross legged so I can keep an eye on Blaine while I get the AED set up.

  "What's your name?" I ask the young flight attendant.

  "Trenton."

  "Good to meet you, Trenton, I'm Nick." I open the bright red box of the AED and find the power cord. "I know how to use this, but I don't know where to plug it in on a plane."

  "Oh, no problem." He takes the end of the cord from my hand and opens a small cubby in the aisle floor I never even noticed. "We had these outlets installed when planes began carrying AEDs. They're all along the pathway."

  Now we're all plugged in and ready to roll. I turn back to Blaine.

  "Blaine, I'm going to get your shirt off and attach a portable defibrillator to your chest, all right?"

  "Why? My heart's still beating. I can feel it."

  "It's just a precaution. Hopefully, we won't even need it. But this is a brilliant little machine right here. It will monitor your heartbeat and tell us how you are doing. Pretty neat, huh?"

  "Yeah. I didn't know they did that."

  "It's like having your own robot doctor. Very cool."

  It isn't easy to get the guy's shirt off in such cramped quarters while he's too weak to help much. I settle for unbuttoning the front completely and checking it for metal. The collar stays are plastic, so we are good to go. Unfortunately, the guy is extremely hairy over his chest and torso. The pads won't get a good connection with all of that hair. Time for a little impromptu manscaping.

  I check the kit and see the usual crappy safety razor with nothing to use for shaving cream. I don't understand why the kit makers do this. In an emergency situation where someone's heart stops right away, the sooner the AED is used the better. No one has time to play barber with a cheap disposable.

  Luckily, there are extra adult-sized pads in the kit. These things have a peel-off paper on one side and extraordinarily sticky adhesive. It wouldn't be pleasant for Blaine, but it was necessary.

  "Look, Blaine, I'm going to have to get rid of some of this hair on your chest. It's going to hurt for a second, but I need to do it, okay?"

  "Yeah, whatever you need to do."

  I place the pads where I will need the real thing, one to the side of his abdomen and one high on one side of his chest. This placement will give the AED the most accurate readings.

  "All right, Blaine, here we go."

  "Let her rip," Blaine says, and then manages a weak chuckle.

  I grab the ends of both pads and rip them at the same time as quickly as I am able. Blaine flinches in reaction but doesn't cry out. He's a good guy, staying calm and keeping his cool. The pads do what I need them to, and now the guy has two oval shaped bare patches in the forest on his torso. I place new pads and throw the used and hairy ones in my empty seat to get them out of the way.

  I get the new pads hooked up to the correct wires which are clearly labeled. There's nothing left to do but hit the big green start button, and I do so.

  AEDs are fantastically simple to use. Everything is labeled with both words and pictures, and once you get it ready to go, it does all the work and decision making for you.

  "Pads Applied. Evaluating." It's a slightly electronic sounding woman's voice, calm and cool, obviously meant to instill confidence.

  "Hey, it's a lady robot," Blaine says. His voice sounds even weaker, but I admire his attitude.

  "You just rest and try not to talk. Leave the work to me and Judy Jetson here."

  It was a lame joke. Judy Jetson isn't even a robot, but the guy smiles at me before he closes his eyes to rest.

  The AED says nothing further, which means Blaine is hanging in there and needs no action at this time.

  I turn back to Trenton, "How long will it be until we land?"

  "Let me check with the pilot. We're still over the ocean, but I know she's asked for emergency landing clearance."

  Trenton heads to the front of the aisle as fast as he can without running and frightening the passengers. A moment on the phone, and he's hurrying back.

  "We're still an hour out. Will he be okay?"

  "Let's hope so."

  "Prepare to shock. Stand clear of the patient." Judy Jetson's voice is louder now.

  "Damn. Blaine? Blaine, can you hear me?" I tap Blaine's cheek with my fingers as I call to him and then place them against the pulse point in his neck. While the AED does the work, you should never rely on it completely. If Blaine was still speaking, for instance, I wouldn't administer a shock."

  "Prepare to shock. Stand clear of the patient." Judy repeats, as if impatient with my delay.

  There's no heartbeat. Time to shock.

  "Administer shock." The unit seems to be chastising me.

  "Stand clear," I snap, more as a reflex than anything.

  I inch away myself and turn to the AED. The shock button is red, triangular, and has a picture of a lightning bolt on it. You can't miss it. One more visual double-check, and I press the button.

  Blaine's entire body jerks in reaction.

  "Prepare to shock. Stand clear of the patient."

  "Damn it, Blaine. Come on!"

  "Administer shock."

  I punch the red button again.

  "Evaluating."

  I lean over the prone man to check his pulse again. Blaine's eyes flutter open. His pulse is weak but gaining ground.

  "Just rest, Blaine. I'll look after you."

  He tries to smile, but it fades as his eyes slip closed.

  When we're twenty minutes out, the AED springs back to life and I have to shock Blaine again. It only takes one shock this time. Blaine is able to open his eyes and talk a little, but I warn him to rest as much as possible. When we are nearing the airport in Dublin, Trenton comes back to me to warn me to sit down and buckle up.

  "But what about Blaine?"

  "He should be fine lying on the floor. You're right next to him, so you can keep an eye on him. But you can't help him if you get injured in the landing."

  "Sit down," Blaine says. "I'm hanging in there."

  I tip the hairy AED pads out of my seat, put the bottle of water in the pocket of the seat in front of me, and sit down. None too soon. Daphne has ti
me to squeeze my hand and tell me I am awesome and the next thing I know I feel the bumps and jerks of the landing gear hitting the pavement.

  The paramedics are waiting at the gate, and everyone remains seated while they board to aid Blaine. I know the drill and speak to them as soon as they arrive.

  "He experienced sensations of indigestion all evening. The AED delivered two shocks one hour and fifteen minutes ago and an additional shock thirty minutes ago. I also gave him two regular aspirin tablets."

  "You did well, Sir." One of the medics says as he helps get Blaine on a narrow stretcher which they'll use to get him off of the plane and to an actual gurney. "Thanks for the information."

  Blaine smiles at me and I wave to him. Then he's gone.

  We're late when we get to the Bed and Breakfast, but our hosts have stayed up for us. They show us immediately to our room and I'm grateful. I could get used to this prepaying thing. My adrenaline hangover is in full swing, and all I want to do is sleep. Daphne helps me get undressed and tucks me in before joining me.

  I could get used to that too.

  Nineteen

  The morning comes too early, and Daphne has to shake me twice to get me out of bed. I'm still exhausted from yesterday, but we have a train to catch and breakfast waiting downstairs.

  Showered and dressed, we sit at the dining room table and our lovely hostess sets a plate in front of each of us holding "the full Irish."

  I think I've died and gone to heaven. My grandparents on my dad's side used to do a big spread like this when we went to visit and I've always loved it. It might seem like a ton of food to some people, but it's perfect for my hyped-up metabolism. There's a gently fried egg in the center of the plate, sausage links, bacon, a fried tomato half, fried mushrooms, soda bread toast, and a small cup of baked beans. There's also the obligatory black and white puddings, one light colored, one dark, and both looking rather like sausage patties. I say a heartfelt thank you to the hostess of the Bed and Breakfast, and dig in.

  I dunk my first piece of toast in the egg but then reach for the jars of clotted cream and lemon curd for the rest. Daphne tries small bites of the puddings but doesn't like them, so I take them off her hands.