After pressing send, I close my eyes and drop my head against the head rest.
“It’s going to be all right,” Simon says.
I open my eyes and look over at him. “Thank you.”
“What for?” He takes a turn, almost running a red.
My eyes burn. “For being there,” I croak.
He glances over at me, and I know he understands what I can’t find the strength to say. If it had been just me there, I wouldn’t have known how to act or what to do. I would have just fallen apart.
“What do you think happened?” I ask, my voice betraying just how close I am to crying.
“He either hit his head or just passed out… has he ever fainted before?”
“Not that I know of.” I give it some thought. “He’s been eating really weird, though. I’m not exactly sure what, but Crystal said he’s been on some crazy diet. She thinks he’s not getting enough food.”
Simon nods. “Make sure to tell them everything you know when we get there. The doctors will figure it out.”
We don’t say anything else for the rest of the drive. When we get to the hospital, we rush into the waiting room.
“My brother is here,” I lie to the nurse at the front desk, trying to get around the privacy laws. “Eryk Stevens.” I clutch the edge of the counter and hold my breath, waiting to see if she has any information on him.
She looks at a clipboard in front of her, trailing her finger down a list. “All right,” she says in a bored voice. “As of right now, we have no information. If you’ll have a seat, we’ll call you when something happens.”
“I need to speak to the staff,” I hurriedly say. “He might have fainted because of his diet. I need to let them know…”
She looks at me and slowly nods. “I’ll pass that on. If we need any information from you, someone will come out and get you.”
I run my palms over my face and work to steady my breathing. Next to me, Simon is cool as a cucumber.
“Okay,” I mutter. “Okay.”
“Here’s some information that needs to be filled out.” She hands me a clipboard. “Just enter whatever you know.”
I take the clipboard and shuffle over to the long rows of uncomfortable looking blue chairs and sit in one. Simon settles next to me. “Did Crystal text you back?”
I check my phone. “No.”
“Stay here. I’ll go get you some coffee.”
He leaves the waiting room, disappearing underneath the sign that points to the cafeteria. I start filling out the information, but there’s not much more I can answer other than the basics such as Eryk’s name and birth date.
I turn the papers into the desk and sit down heavily. My phone rings and I snatch it up like my life depends on it.
Crystal doesn’t give me a chance to say hello. “Oh my God, what happened?” she shrieks.
“He fainted. Or hit his head. We don’t really know.”
“Is he okay?”
“When the medics took him out, he was awake, but he was barely speaking.” My lower lip trembles over the last part and I have to press my palm against my mouth to still it.
“I’m on my way. You’re at Hollywood Presbyterian?”
“Yeah, in the waiting room. With Simon.”
There’s a little silence. “Simon?”
“He came over to talk to me about something and that’s when it happened.”
“Talk to you about what?”
“Crystal,” I gasp, honestly not able to believe she wants to talk about my love life when our roommate is laying — probably in seriously bad shape — in a hospital room somewhere.
“Is he there now?” she asks, her voice low.
“He went to get me coffee.”
“Oh… I still don’t get it. Why did he come over?”
“I think…” I pause and lick my dry lips. “Well, he wanted to talk about us. Me and him.”
“Wow… okay. I’ll be there soon.”
She hangs up and I pull my legs up into the seat. Everything about the waiting room creeps me out. The rubbed raw plastic chair arms. The scent that smells like cleaning product and sickness blended together. The despondent patients and visitors shuffling around.
I drop my head to my knees and don’t look up till someone smooths back some of my hair.
It’s Simon. Thank God, because a stranger molesting me in the middle of a hospital waiting room would just be the cherry on top of the morning. At such a point, I would literally have to snap.
He extends his hand holding a cup of coffee. Once I take it, he has a seat.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
He leans forward, his hands between his knees, and I get the feeling he’s uncomfortable. “I don’t like hospitals,” he says, confirming my thoughts.