by Emerson Rose
He knows better, he’s been a diabetic his entire life, he wears an insulin pump that tells him when his blood sugar is too low for Christ sake.
He didn’t want to miss me when I came home. Oh my god, this is so my fault.
I check his pulse, still slow, shit. I count his respirations, slow, shit, shit. I pat him on the face, “Beau, come on baby, please wake up,” I beg and pat him harder. Still nothing. If I could just get him awake for a minute I could get him to eat something that would help his blood sugar.
I drop to the floor and crawl to the groceries and search for juice in case he comes around. Four bags in I find a gallon of orange juice and jump up to grab a glass.
Back at his side I try again to rouse him with no success. His pump, I need to shut it off to keep any more insulin from going into his body. I lift his shirt up and search for the pump along the waist of his jeans. When I find it I set about figuring out how to shut it off and see just exactly how low his blood sugar is and it’s really fucking low.
Where the hell is the damn ambulance? I check Beau’s phone, it’s only been five minutes since I called. I look anxiously around the room for what I don’t know. I take care of animals not people and I’m always in a clinical setting where there are supplies and medications at my fingertips. I know what he needs, he needs an IV and sugar, an easy fix as far as saving lives goes but I don’t have the supplies to give it to him. But the paramedics will, if they ever fucking get here.
He’s so cold. I reach across my bed and flip the comforter from the side he isn’t laying on over him and lean in close to his face. “Beau, if you can hear me I want you to know I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I thought, I… I don’t know what the hell I was thinking, but I’m here now and I promise I won’t leave. The ambulance is on its way, you keep breathing damn it, if you don’t I’m going to be supremely pissed.”
My speech does nothing to wake him. I take ahold of his wrist and keep my fingers pressed there monitoring his pulse. There’s nothing I can do now but wait and watch what is left of his color drain out of his beautiful face. Tears burn in my eyes and I hold my breath every time his pulse slows further until finally I hear the ambulance sirens.
It’s about time. I get up and jump over the grocery bags to open the door and back to Beau’s side to take his hand. When the paramedics arrive they ask me a slew of questions that I don’t know the answers to. His birthday, height, weight, what our relationship is, what kind of diabetes he has. At least I knew that one.
One of the paramedics is a woman and Hispanic and hot in her jumpsuit uniform. You wouldn’t think anyone could look sexy in a one piece long sleeved polyester jump suit but she does. She keeps looking at Beau as she works and not in a professional way either. She’s checking him out, oh my fucking god. He could be dying and she is checking him out. What kind of paramedic is this? I’d give her the stink eye if she would stop looking at him for five seconds.
She clears the bags out of, what would be considered a foyer, if I had any other space in my apartment by tossing them haphazardly to both sides so she can maneuver a gurney into my tiny apartment.
I’m on my feet helping her move him off of the bed while the non ogling male paramedic looks for a place to put his IV.
“How long has he been unconscious?” the hottie Hispanic ogler asks.
“I don’t know, I wasn’t here, I didn’t come home last night.” Her eyebrows shoot up and I swear hope springs eternal on her face.
“I didn’t know he was coming, I mean, I did sort of, but I didn’t believe it and I needed space and…
Lame, lame, lame! Shut up Charlotte. Mom always said when you find yourself in a hole the best thing to do is stop digging, so I stop digging.
“Got it, open it all the way up,” says the mildly handsome male paramedic who is actually doing his job and not thinking about future dinner plans with the patient. He got the IV on the first try and I consider kissing him when glucose is flowing freely into Beau’s veins.
“All right, let’s role. Are you going to meet us at the hospital?” HHO asks. (Hottie Hispanic Ogler)
“Yes, I’ll follow you.”
“If you have his driver’s license and insurance card that would be helpful,” says PP. (Professional Paramedic)
“Um, they’re probably in his wallet in his back pocket. Oh, and he uses an insulin pump, I shut it off, his blood sugar was 20.”
“Okay, good to know,” PP says, as they maneuver around the tight corner to get Beau out of my apartment.
I grab my bag and follow them until we get to the parking lot where no less than ten people are standing around gawking. Beau is officially today’s entertainment; these people need to get a life.
My car is parked in the street with a ticket on the windshield. Somebody took my damn parking spot in the lot yesterday and I had to park there. One more thing I hate about living in the city. At home I could park wherever the hell I wanted to and never get a ticket. The wide-open plains of Montana are good for stuff like that.
I snatch the ticket out from under the wiper and unlock the door of my old-ish Ford Taurus and toss it into the back seat. The police will have to wait until I graduate to collect on that one.
The ambulance and I pull out into the street simultaneously and I follow them for twenty minutes to the hospital. After a long search for a parking spot and an even longer search for Beau in the ER I find him awake.
Relief spreads through me and tears well in my eyes. “You’re awake.”
He answers with a weak, “Yeah.” I move to his side and take his hand.
“You scared the hell outta me.”
His head lolls toward me and his eyes dart back and forth between mine like they are searching for something. “You’re talking to me.”
An explanation is what he’s looking for and I’m not sure I can give him one.
“I am.”
“Where were you?”
“I spent the night at a friend’s house.”
“I thought you didn’t have any friends here.”
“Well, I don’t really. Mitch used to be my tutor second semester.”
This perks him up and he squeezes my hand so tight it hurts. “Mitch? As in a guy?”
“Yes, but it’s not like that. I was trying not to be home last night and I didn’t want to pay for a hotel room. Mitch has a big house, I stayed in one of his guest rooms.”
“So, it’s not like that huh? Like I told you it wasn’t like that with Carmen?”
Crap, he’s got me there. Both situations look mighty suspicious but he used to sleep with Carmen. I wouldn’t sleep with Mitch if he were the last man on the planet earth.
“Why was she answering your phone?”
“I think I asked you a question first.”
I sigh. “What do you want me to say? It wasn’t like that, you want to call him and ask him?”
“Do you want to call and talk to Carmen?”
“Now look who’s answering a question with another question.”
“No, I don’t want to talk to your Mitch. Would you mind explaining why you haven’t been talking to me?”
“He’s not my Mitch, he’s just Mitch and I don’t have a good explanation. You never answered my question about Carmen either.”
“Carmen stopped by to stir up shit, I sent her packing and she didn’t like it when I told her about you. She jumped at the chance to answer my phone and mess with you because she’s a bitch. Now, your turn, I’ll take any explanation, good or bad.”
I look down at my pink Converse and consider telling him a lie. Lies usually slide from my lips without thinking but I don’t think I will like lying to Beau.
“Princess, talk to me, tell me what’s wrong. What’s got you spooked?”
I meet his eyes. A horse reference, great, he knows how to get to me.
“Stella saw us at the airport.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, and when I landed I had a ton of text messages from her
telling me about your playboy, womanizing bad boy reputation. I got scared. I thought you were messing with me because you wanted to sleep with me.”
His eyes close and his jaw tightens.
“Beau? Don’t close your eyes please.”
He opens them and what I see there is utter disappointment.
“Your sister was right, sort of. I don’t consider myself a womanizer or a playboy because the women I get involved with know what’s up before we have sex. I make it very clear that it’s only physical and there will be no relationship after. A womanizer manipulates women and makes them think he’s into having a relationship so he can fuck them. He messes with their head. I’m honest, I don’t do that.”
“You never said anything about that to me.”
“Because you’re different. I enjoyed spending time with you. I wanted to know you, your dreams, your favorite things, and your opinions. I didn’t want it to be only physical with you, although the physical was pretty fucking hot.”
I can’t help but smile. He’s right it was pretty fucking hot.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shut you out. I should have talked to you but I didn’t figure you’d tell me the truth being a womanizing player and all ya know?”
He chuckles a low sexy chuckle and I have flashbacks of the two of us tangled in his bed after making love, laughing and sharing stories about growing up on a ranch. How did I ever doubt him?
“I see your point there and I’m glad we got that all cleared up.”
“Me too. Are you feeling better? You look better.” I cup my hand on his cheek and feel the heat coming off of his skin. “You were so cold, I couldn’t wake you.”
He reaches up and curls his fingers around my wrist moving my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles. “Yes, I feel much better. You need food in your apartment.”
“I wasn’t expecting company.”
“What, you don’t eat?’
“I’m on a budget, poor college student remember?” I say pointing at myself.
“All you had to do was ask me for help.”
“I’m not in the habit of asking people for handouts, Beau.” I’m really not. I pinched every penny of my college fund until it bled and I worked for everything it didn’t cover. I didn’t want to be the spoiled rich brat I had been in high school.
“I’m not people, I’m your boyfriend and I like helping you. It makes me happy to make you happy. Get it?”
He’s my boyfriend? Did I just hear that right? “My boyfriend?”
“Hmm, yeah, your right, boyfriend sounds immature. How about I’m your manfriend?”
“Um…”
“Unless you have a different title in mind, either way it doesn’t matter to me.”
“Boyfriend is fine. Does Boyfriend mean monogamous?”
“Absolutely.” He nods his head firmly and I think the pop rocks are back in my tummy.
“You remember what monogamous means right?”
He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, “Charlotte, I don’t want anybody but you, in any way, sexually or otherwise. Is that clear enough for you?”
Yes I think it is. Beau Hill wants a monogamous boyfriend/girlfriend relationship, where we are the only people sleeping and spending time with each other. I nod in agreement and the doctor enters the curtained area.
“Mr. Hill, how are you feeling?”
“Much better thanks Dr…” he looks at the physician’s name stitched on his white coat. “Dr. Kane.”
“Good, do you experience hypoglycemia often?”
“No, my diabetes is well controlled. I have been under a lot of extra stress lately and didn’t pay attention to the signs.”
Shit. That extra stress is me, he looked right at me when he said it. Great, now I feel even more responsible for his hypoglycemic episode.
“I’ll spare you the lecture. You’ve been dealing with this for a long time, I’m sure you already know what you need to do. I’m going to stop the glucose IV fluids and run a bag of Normal Saline into you to make sure you’re not dehydrated and let you go home. Don’t forget to turn your pump back on, your wife shut it off for you.”
“Oh, I’m not his wife.”
“She’s the girlfriend.”
“I see, well she very well may have saved your life, I think she’s a keeper,” Dr. Kane says.
“I think you’re right,” Beau says looking up at me with a seriousness in his eyes I’ve never seen before.
“Okay, great. I’ll send your nurse in to get those fluids switched over and you should be home in time for lunch.” Dr. Kane extends his hand to Beau. They shake and I notice Dr. Kane flinches. Beau doesn’t know his own strength sometimes.
“Sounds good, thanks again for fixin’ me up.”
“No problem.”
When he’s gone Beau pulls me down onto the bed next to him. “I’m a keeper huh?”
“You are most definitely a keeper, Princess.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Princess?”
“Yes, Princess.”
His lips twitch in a suppressed smile and my curiosity grows tenfold.
“Beau, tell me.”
“Only if you let me buy you groceries until you graduate and a new mattress.”
“What’s with you and the bargaining? You do that a lot you know.”
“It’s how I guarantee we both get what we want.”
“What’s wrong with my mattress?”
His eyes open wide with shock, “What’s not wrong with your mattress? It’s horrible. I’m going to have to find a chiropractor in Redwater as soon as I get home.”
My mattress is soft but it’s not horrible. It does need replacing but I didn’t want to spend the money when I was going to go back to Montana. Now that I’m staying in Iowa I’ll have to add it to my list of things to take care of after graduation.
“Okay, you can buy me some groceries, since you already have, but I don’t need a new mattress. Now tell me why you call me Princess.”
“No deal, you take the food and the mattress or I keep my secret.”
He is impossible, I M P O S S I B L E. “Oh all right.”
“Oh all right what?”
I swat at his rock hard bicep, “All right I’ll take your stupid mattress, as long as it’s not too firm, and your groceries even though all that stuff you already bought me is going to last for weeks.”
“You’ll need to replace the milk and juice and things like that every week.”
“Shit.”
“What? You didn’t put that stuff in the refrigerator?”
I stand up straight and put my hands on my hips. “You were in a diabetic coma, Beau. No, I did not stop to put the groceries away, I was freaked out!”
“Then we will have to stop at the store on our way back to your place.”
“Beau,” I say through clenched teeth. “Tell me why you call me Princess, I’m starting to think it’s not flattering.”
His lips press together and his eyes twinkle with mischief.
“It’s not flattering is it?”
“It is now. You remind me of the color pink and pink reminds me of princesses.”
I narrow my eyes and look at him sideways, “What do you mean by it is now? And how do I remind you of pink?”
“Your mood is always light and happy and pleasant like pink. And…” He wrinkles up his nose before he continues. “When we were growing up I thought of you as the piggy princess, because your name is Charlotte and you live on a ranch like the story Charlotte’s Web and you acted like an entitled princess.”
“Piggy Princess? What the hell, Beau? That’s rude, and more than unflattering and, and, rude.”
“You said that.”
“Well it bears repeating. Rude.”
“We were kids. Princess means something totally different now and if you recall I said I called you piggy princess not Princess.” He is on the verge of bursting into laughter when the nurse comes in and changes his IV fluids.
/>
I keep quiet while she’s in our curtain area. I’m not all that fired up to talk about my horrible nickname in front of a stranger. When she’s gone his body slowly starts shaking with laughter but I don’t think it’s funny.
“I don’t think I want that nickname anymore,” I say crossing my arms over my chest.
“Oh come on baby, you can’t denounce a nickname. It comes naturally to me. I call you Princess because you’re special like a princess and I want to worship my princess forever.”
Forever? Worship? Holy shit this guy is good. “Are you sure you’re not womanizing me? Because that sure sounded like womanizing.”
He reaches for me and I give him my hand. “I solemnly swear on anything you think is holy that I am not womanizing you. I have feelings for you and I don’t have feelings for women, ever.”
He has feelings, I have feelings, we need to discuss the fact that I accepted a job here in Iowa and our feelings are going to have to be long distance ones.
“Beau, I uh, I need to tell you something.”
His eyebrows knit together tight between his eyes. “That sounds ominous, I hate conversations that start like that. Do I have to know?”
I nod. “Okay, let’s have it then.”
“I took a job here as a full time vet in the animal clinic I work in.”
His frown deepens. “Why? No never mind I don’t want to know why. Tell them you changed your mind.”
“I can’t do that, it’s unprofessional and they never hire new grads, they made an exception for me because they think I do good work.”
“You can do that. Have you started the job?”
“No, but I already work there as a vet tech.”
“You already accepted a position on my ranch. How professional is it of you to leave me in the lurch by taking another job? I want you around Charlotte don’t get me wrong, I do.”
“But I also really need a vet. King has been acting funny lately and we have vaccinations to give and cows to calf. That job wasn’t a pity position or fluff work. I’m counting on you. Getting to watch your sexy ass work every day is a bonus sure but don’t get it twisted, I need you.”