Yeah. Something about having Evie around the house as a ghost, forever, makes me want to move into the crappiest high rent apartment the Bay Area has to offer if it's the only way out of here.#p#分页标题#e#
Dad tears himself away and runs over to the small, limp shape on the bed. Evie looks like a rumpled mess, the blankets slung off her, dressed in what looks like a cocktail dress.
“Come on, dammit. Come the fuck on!” Dad's cracking up.
He never swears like this, never shows such harsh, bright tears in his eyes.
He's covering her mouth with his, pouring every drop of oxygen he has into her, pumping his hands on her chest so hard I think he's going to break her ribs. It won't take much. I swear she's lost even more weight during the week I've been away. She looks like a mummy with one too many plastic surgeries.
“Dad, get her on the floor! Maybe it'll help,” I suggest, walking up.
He stands and gives me an angry wave. I grab her feet and we lift her. She's just as light as I feared. Her head rolls like she's already dead, and that's when I notice the crap coming out of her mouth, something foamy, unnatural.
I don't know what a drug overdose looks like, but I have an awful feeling. Dad hits the floor again, blinded by his tears, shaking her tiny body as he pounds her chest again and again.
I'm so hooked on the freak show happening in front of me that I don't see Chris. The door bursts open so hard it whacks against the wall, and then he's in, pushing my dad aside.
I watch my stepbrother secret lover take over where my father left off. He works with more precision than dad, timing his CPR perfectly, an eerie calm lining his face.
Dad's jaw clenches so hard it looks like his teeth are going to break. I'm holding his hand, trying to keep him out of it so Chris can do his thing.
“Are you sure you know what you're doing, son?” dad growls, his brow furrowed. “Where the fuck are those paramedics?”
He looks at me. I give him my best sympathetic look, trying to stay positive. Truthfully, I have no clue what's about to happen.
Chris doesn't answer. He just keeps working on his mother, shirtless and heroic, more like a force of nature than a man trying to save another human being's life.
Evie's face has gone completely white – well, whiter than usual, I mean. She's downright ghostly, and her ankles are swollen too. I found out when I helped guide her to the floor.
If she lives, she's going to be a wreck. I tell myself I don't want her to die, even though it would simplify so much. But it's not worth leaving my poor father a broken shell of a man.
“Dad? Why don't you come with me. Let Chris do his thing...”
I try to guide him away, but his grip is so limp, so far gone.
He's not even angry or scared anymore. He looks like he's a million miles away, haunted as though he's already seen his wife die in front of him.
For all anybody knows, he has, and that makes me want to strangle the stupid, suicidal bitch all over again.
Dad won't move beyond the bedroom. We stop several feet away, watching as Chris works frantically. The muscles on his back ripple like moving stones, masculine and powerful. If anyone can save her, it's going to be the son she's treated like absolute crap all along.
How ironic
And it is a second later, when Evie jerks, so sudden and sharp I almost go through the ceiling. Dad rushes forward while he's coughing and spluttering. He hits the floor and catches her, holding her up when her frail body buckles again.
“Oh, baby. Oh, Christ. You're going to be okay, honey. Help's on the way. Remember, long, slow, deep breaths.” Dad holds her so tenderly it makes me sad and angry all at once.
He cares so fucking much – and she almost offed herself without giving a damn. I wonder if we'll find out what kind of junk she has screwing up her system?#p#分页标题#e#
Chris backs away, stands up, and gives me a sharp look. I'm about to say something when our doorbell chime blasts through the house, announcing the paramedics.
“Come on, Delia. Let's make sure they get in okay.”
I can't remember the last time I caught up on sleep. Sometime before Vegas. Hell, maybe sometime before Mister Badass SEAL walked into my life, dragging his psycho mother behind him.
It's morning, and I'm exhausted. Evie was stabilized by the time the medics hauled her away, with dad right behind them.
Stepbrother and I are curled up next to the pool, sharing a single lounge chair. When some of the early help arrives to start their day, they could notice us, but I can't bring myself to care right now.
I need his arms around me, his heat. It feels right. It's safe.
His embrace gives me one sane thing to cling to in my crumbling world – even though it's anything but normal.
“What do you think she was on? Do you think she tried to...you know? Intentionally, I mean?”