"No. Helping me move is your duty as my friend. I'm just making you aware of other things too."
"Who said I'm your friend?" I tease.
"I did. Frankie knows all."
"Frankie is dreaming."
Just then, we get a call. All fun and games are over as we make our way to a three-car accident.
It's a mess when we get on scene, and I know from one look that this one is going to hurt.
Frankie and I both spring into action like always. There's no time for anything else at the moment.
"Don't move, okay? I need you not to move," I tell a woman lying on the ground. "Did someone help you out of the vehicle?" I ask.
"Yes," she croaks out.
"You're gonna be okay. We'll take care of you, okay? Me and Frankie? We're real good at this. We'll take care of you like you're our own." Tears stream down her face and I can see the thank-you in her eyes, the fear too. Blood drips from her head. We look her over quickly and ask questions before putting a brace on her neck.
"What's your name?" I ask her.
"Lydia."
"Lydia, I like that name. I'm Jackson. Frankie is going to lift you just slightly, okay? And I'm going to slip this board under you so we can keep you real straight. Once we get ya on there, we're on our way to the hospital and they're going to fix you up."
"Okay," slips roughly from her bloodied lips.
"You tell me if anything hurts, Lydia-ten is the worst pain in the world and one is hardly any pain at all. When we're done, I'm gonna let you rank me, and if I don't get a good score, I have to be at Frankie's beck and call for a day. I don't wanna be at Frankie's beck and call. He's real needy."
Her chin trembles, but she gives me a small smile. I always try to use names as much as possible because it makes people feel more comfortable. Like they're being taken care of by someone who knows them and cares about them.
"We're gonna do this on the count of three, Lydia. Are you ready?" I squeeze her hand and she returns it.
Frankie and I snag eyes, and he nods.
"One … two … three."
Lydia groans as we get the board beneath her.
"It's uncomfortable, I know. What's your pain level at?"
"Seven," she replies.
"What about me? How'd I do?" I ask as we make our way to our truck. "You can score Frankie too, but only if you give me more points than him."
She gives me a slight chuckle, and I hold her hand as we push her bed into the truck. "Perfect," Lydia replies.
"That's what we wanna hear," Frankie replies before leaving me in the back with Lydia and heading to the driver's seat.
"My husband … Brian … is he okay? Please make sure he's okay. … I've been with him nearly all my life."
Shit. "There were some great paramedics out there. I'm sure he's fine. Once we get you to the hospital, we'll check on him for you." I hate these conversations because I don't know if her husband is fine or not. She's lucky, and from the look of things, not everyone else was.
Frankie gets us to the hospital and we get Lydia inside. It's over an hour later; Frankie and I are still here when Lydia's children show up and we find out her husband didn't make it. He passed away in transit.
"Fuck. … Fuck!" I fist my hands and lean against the ambulance. I wanted her husband to be okay. I needed him to be. Jesus … maybe if Frankie and I had gotten him instead …
Frankie squeezes my shoulder. "I know, man." He shakes his head. "It's shitty … I'll take care of our thing. You got it last time."
We always send flowers in situations like this. A lot of the other guys don't get it but it's something Frankie and I have always done. He started it, and when I found out what he did, I wanted in on it with him. It feels right. It's the least we can do.
I wipe my eyes and shove away from the truck. "Thanks." But it still feels like there's a rock in my gut.
It's after one in the morning when I'm finally lying in bed, trying to come down from the day. Shit like this always wrecks me. Losing people. Failing.
It's dark in my room, a soft glow coming through the window from the lights of the city. I'm restless. There's not a chance I'll be able to sleep right now, but my body is wiped out at the same time.
Fuck … why couldn't her husband have made it?
My leg shakes and my hands feel useless, so I find myself picking up my phone, rolling it over in my hand.
There's not a doubt in my mind that Frankie is awake too. Shit like this always gets both of us, even if the patient wasn't ours.