Unobtainable (33 page)

“Why not see what the doctor says first,” Harley recommended. “Whatever he says goes. Drugs and bed or drugs and a weekend away, deal?”

“Works for me.”

~Dyson~

Relieving hot water ran over my face as I stood under the spray of the shower head, this was exactly what I needed. My stomach had stopped churning, I felt a bit warm, but other than the constant dizziness I wasn’t feeling half bad.

I stepped from the shower and reached for my towel, wrapping it around my waist and tucking the end in. The room started to swirl in the opposite direction that my head was swirling. My chest painfully tightened, constricting the sound as I tried to holler for Harley, he would never hear me from downstairs. I leaned against the wall switch, the light turned off, I didn’t have to power to turn it back on.

I’m going to die
, I heard my thoughts tell me.

Staggering into the bedroom, my plan was to get to the hallway at least then Harley would hear me call him. The door was open and the light from the hall was on illuminating the bedroom slightly.

“Harley,” I called out, barley hearing my own voice.

The pain in my chest as I tried to pull in a breath was like a hot iron poker cementing between my ribs, it was impossible to take in enough as I staggered with my arms held out in fear of falling.

This was my final curtain call. I feared I was done for. I couldn’t call for help and Harley didn’t have a clue. I stumbled over to the bed and fell face down into the plush comforter. I waited for my life to flash before my eyes as I fought them from closing, in fear they would never open again, each flutter of my lashes getting heavier.

“I love you, Harley,” I whispered. “I don’t want to go…”

~Harley~

I didn’t have the heart or the guts to tell Dyson I had planned on going away alone, not after all he had done for me. No one had ever done anything close to what Dyson did. I had essentially been on my own for most of my life, I did for myself and I survived with no one’s help. There
was
no one else besides Chelsea and she had her own life to worry about and now a baby on the way.

At least mommy dearest was out of my life, for the most part. Come Monday I would be able to rid that menacing force from my thoughts for good. For now, Dyson needed me and I vowed to be there for him and put all other matters out of my mind. I also made a solemn vow to tell him how I felt as soon as we reached the cabin.

Dyson had been in the shower an awful long time.

I grabbed the bottle of aspirin from the kitchen cupboard beside the sink, a cold bottle of water from the fridge and the thermometer from the medicine cabinet in the washroom, though I had no idea how to read one. I stared at it still sealed in its original packaging and decided to heat up some soup, soup made everything better, I couldn’t go wrong with soup.

I arranged everything on a lap tray and carried it up the steps. The guest room door was open a crack but the interior was dark as I took a peek inside. Dyson was sprawled face down over the bed, with a towel tied around his waist. I toed the door open and walked over to the bed, setting the tray on the bedside table. By the dim light from the hall, I could make out Dyson’s form on the bed but no more. I went to the bathroom and flipped on the light and sat on the bed beside Dyson. Touching my hand to Dyson’s cheek I gasped because the man was burning up with fever. Promptly, I switched on the bedside lamp.

Dyson was as pale as the winter white pillowcase above his head, his lips were blue and his body was visibly shivering. I placed my hands on Dyson’s shoulders and gently shook him, there was no response. I rolled him over.

“Dyson,” I whispered. “Jesus, you’re burning up. Dyson wake up.”

At the realization that something was terribly wrong, a sense of panic took over and I found it nearly impossible to think straight. Rushing into the washroom I wet a cloth with cool water and returned to Dyson’s side. Wiping his face in hopes that Dyson would stir, I watched as his eyes remained closed. I took my phone from his pocket and hit 911.

Pulling Dyson to my chest, I gently rocked him as I listened for an answer.

“911, what is your emergency?” the operator asked, with calm urgency in her voice. “Do you require an ambulance, police or fire?”

I rattled off my address and phone number when the operator repeated her question for the third time.

“He won’t wake up, he’s been sick for a few days. I can’t get him to wake up, please help me?”

“Stay calm sir,” she instructed. “Is your friend breathing?”

“Yes,” I said. “But he won’t open his eyes, his lips are blue, that’s not good is it?”

“Paramedics are on their way, sir,” she said. “Please assure that the door is not locked.”

“It’s not.”

“Stay on the line with me sir until they arrive.”

“Dyson’s going to be okay, right?” I asked, as I put the phone on speaker and set it on the bed so I could brush Dyson’s hair back off his forehead. “He’s hot, please tell them to hurry.”

“They are not far now sir, what are your names.”

“He’s Dyson Michaels, I’m Harley Cooper.”

“Hi Harley, my name is Tammy. Once the paramedics get there I need you to do a few things for me.”

Tammy’s voice was soothing and calm as she spoke, taking a small portion of my fear away.

“Okay.”

“If you can, find Mr. Michaels’ wallet and any medication he may be taking and take them with you to the hospital. Be sure to call Mr. Michaels’ family once he’s been taken care of.”

“Okay.”

“You are doing great, how’s Mr. Michaels, has his condition changed at all?”

I shook my head as tears welled up in my eyes. Stupid eyes!

“No, he’s the same.”

“The paramedics have arrived Harley, you will hear them soon. You can hang up now.”

“Thank you Tammy.”

Suddenly there was noise downstairs.

“We’re up here!” I screamed, hitting end on my phone.

The paramedics came into the room and while one of them concentrated on Dyson, the other asked me questions. She was very efficient and before she left me to help with Dyson, she smiled and assured me that they would take care of him.

“My name is Jaime Lynn, we will do everything we can for Dyson, he’s in good hands, Harley.”

While the paramedics were busy with Dyson and I had answered all the questions I could, I located his wallet in his pants pocket on the bathroom floor and searched the washroom for medication, there was none. I was unaware of him taking medication. We lived together and I didn’t know much about him at all. I would remedy that.

I wasn’t allowed to travel with Dyson in the ambulance. Therefore I had to manage on my own while they carted Dyson away with the lights flashing and the siren blaring. It was hard to focus on the road as I followed behind. I lost them at the stop lights I wasn’t permitted to race through. I was a raving lunatic by the time I reached the hospital, cursing and swearing at stop signs and lights, other cars driving too slowly and anyone who came into view.

EJ was waiting at the emergency doors when I arrived, I had called him from the car, I didn’t know who else to call. The concerned look on EJ’s face stressed me out even more. A nurse stopped us before we reached the second set of doors and instructed us to wait while the doctor assessed Dyson, then someone would come talk to us. In the mean time we filled out paperwork together and I searched through Dyson’s wallet for his health insurance card.

I wasn’t shocked to find our wedding picture tucked behind Dyson’s driver’s license, but I was taken aback by the photo of me from years ago with it. It was a copy of the same photo kept in my personnel file at work. I was shocked to think that Dyson had feelings for me for all these years. I knew Dyson loved me, he’d told me, I never appreciated just how much. Nor did I realize how selfish I’d been by dismissing him the way I did.

“Clay and Toby are on their way,” EJ told me as he sat at my side. “How long has Dyson been sick? He never said anything to me, I didn’t realize.”

“A while,” I said, attaching Dyson’s health insurance card to the clipboard with the questionnaire and pen. “I didn’t know he was this sick either…we’ve been keeping our distance lately.”

EJ glanced into my face and nodded, he was aware Dyson was moving out, he had been on the lookout for a new place close to work to help his little brother, hoping the closer the better with making it to work on time.

“We got home and he was in the shower, I made soup,” I ranted on. “He needed me and I was making fucking soup.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” EJ told me. “My little brother was never good at letting people know he was sick. It was days before my mom discovered he had chickenpox. He was always a pain in the ass when he was sick.”

“Stop fucking talking about him in the past tense,” I snapped. “He’s just got a bug. The doc will hook him up with antibiotics or something and he’ll be okay in a few days. I’ll hire a nurse if I have to, he’ll get the best care.”

“Take it easy Cooper,” EJ scolded. “He’s not really your concern now, is he? I’ll take it from here.”

“Dyson’s still my responsibility until the eighteenth, so
you
back the fuck off.”

EJ was taken aback by my daring, not too many people stood up to him. He was always the one giving orders, never one to be told what to do and certainly not the one you told to back the fuck off.

“That’s one,” he huffed “You don’t want him, you got what you wanted, a few months later you’re kicking his ass to the curb and suddenly you feel guilty. It’s only your guilty conscience that’s keeping you here.”

I shook my head angrily. “EJ, you have no fucking idea what you’re talking about, I didn’t ask your brother to leave…I-”

“Girls?” Clayton interrupted, as he came into the small waiting room. “We’re all worried about Dyson and fighting isn’t going to change the situation. Where’s the doctor, has anyone told you anything?”

“Not yet,” EJ said. “We were told to wait here. We’re waiting.”

“I’m going to go find someone who can tell us what’s going on,” Tobias said, standing in the doorway with a glower fixed on his face. “Do you think you kids can behave until I get back?”

“Give this to the nurse.” I handed Tobias the clipboard. “She asked for Dyson’s insurance information, it’s all there.”

Tobias came back a few minutes later devoid of answers, promptly being told to take a seat and wait with the others. EJ stood sulking out the window and Clayton sat fiddling with his phone. Surprisingly only a few hours had past, it felt more like ten or twelve to me, I was fast growing restless. I walked out into the hall and studied the contents of the vending machine through the cracked glass. Taking change from my pocket I inserted it into the slot and pressed C1 waiting while the small package of M&M’s dropped. I stood gazing at the yellow package of Dyson’s favorite candy when I realized I hadn’t called Tag.

I was glad I had saved Tag’s number to my phone, I knew he was away somewhere in Scotland. I silently prayed I would get him on his cell, not sure of the time difference.

“Thank God,” I said, with a strong sense of relief once I heard Tag’s voice. “Tag, you need to come home right away, Dyson’s in hospital, he’s really sick. Get on the next flight.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what happened?” Tag asked.

“He’s been sick for a while, I found him unconscious. You need to come home.”

“I know he’s been sick,” Tag said. “I spent the other night with him, but he didn’t seem
that
sick to me.”

“
You
spent the other night with him?” I asked. “It was you?”

“Yeah it was me, who else would it be?” he confirmed. “I’ll be on the next flight, I’ll call when my flight arrives. No, I’ll call you from the air.”

“Tag?”

“Yeah?”

“Hurry.”

“I’m on my way.”

I jumped when I felt a hand touch my arm.

“Mr. Cooper?” a young woman dressed in blue scrubs asked, draping a stethoscope around the back of her neck.

“Yes, I’m Harley Cooper.”

She smiled as her hand squeezed my arm, “I’m Doctor Beth McCarthy, I have been assigned to your partner’s case. Do you have a minute? I’d like to tell you what I know.”

Expecting to be led to an office or somewhere a bit more private, Doctor McCarthy walked over to a draped cubical and hopped up onto a stretcher. She held out her hand and offered me a seat in the chair.

“Is he going to be okay? Can I take Dyson home?”

“As far as I can tell, Mr. Michaels has contracted some kind of virus, we have done testing and bloodwork and I’m hoping it gives us some answers. Unfortunately we have had to isolate him.”

“Why? What about antibiotics or something?”

“Dyson’s fever is my main concern right now, it’s not breaking and we need to get it lowered. It could well be the reason for his present state of unconsciousness. A fever usually indicates an infection and I’m thinking he may have pneumonia as well, we will know when the x-rays come back. I ordered a toxicology screen, does Mr. Michaels use recreational drugs.”