He heard a motor and turned, frantic, sure it must be the ambulance. Instead, a plow truck was pushing against the snow, but Simon couldn’t drop Stella to wave at the driver, so instead he ran into the middle of the street, trying to get right in front of the truck. He screamed, “Please!” over and over. The plow stopped. A face in a Russian cap frowned out at him and then the driver popped open the door. “What the fuck,” he said. “Is she hurt?”
“We need the hospital—”
The man helped get Stella up into the cab, along with Simon, and then started the plow again.
“What were you doing, walking in the freezing cold and snow?” the driver said. “What were you thinking, doing something that stupid? Look at you. You’re both soaked.”
“I called an ambulance—”
“Why didn’t you wait? How would they find you tromping around in all this mess?”
The driver pulled up to the hospital and got out, waiting for Simon to hit the ground so he could lower Stella into his arms. “I hope she’s okay, man,” the driver told him as Simon pushed through the doors of the ER.
The lobby, usually crowded, was empty. The front desk where the triage nurse sat was empty, too. “Help!” he screamed, and a nurse appeared. Brenda! He knew her! She worked with Stella.
As soon as Brenda saw Stella in his arms, her whole body seemed to lengthen. “Simon,” she said, astonished. “Simon, what happened?” Two steps and she was taking Stella from him, easing her onto a gurney.
“We fell asleep.” He lifted his hands and then let them fall back down. “She won’t wake up.”
“Did she hit her head? Was there alcohol?” Brenda asked, frowning.
“We had wine, a few glasses at the most.”
“What’s a few?” Her hands circled Stella’s wrists.
He tried to remember, but all he could see were the glasses in both their hands, the way they kept filling them and drinking. “Were there drugs?” Brenda asked. She didn’t look at him when she asked, but he heard something steely in her voice.
“She took a pill.” His tongue felt thick in his mouth, his mind foggy, and Brenda looked at him. She took out her pager. “A doctor’s coming,” she said. “What pill?”
Sweat prickled his back. “Red,” he said. “Small, oblong. Maybe Darvon?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Darvon’s pink,” she said. She was waiting for him to say more, but his voice was in lockdown. Even if he could speak, no matter what he said, it would feel and sound like a lie. Something acrid and burning was in his throat, and he sucked in more air and then coughed. “I don’t know what it was,” he said. There. It was the truth. As much of the truth as he had. “I can find out,” he said. He touched Stella’s hands, flinching at how cold they were.
“You do that. Now.” The way Brenda clipped her words scared him. He rubbed his hands against Stella’s, trying to warm them up.
“You have to let go,” she told him. He released her.
An orderly snapped into view, taking hold of the gurney, pushing it through a set of double doors that led to the examination rooms. Simon started to follow, but Brenda grabbed his arm. “No you don’t,” she said. “You have to stay here.”
The doors swung open and Simon looked through and saw all the rows of beds, the blue curtains, the IV poles and steel tables. A woman with blood dappled along her face like spray paint was sobbing. A skinny man was sitting up, grabbing for a blanket. Doctors were moving about, talking, voices jamming into one another, and after the silent emptiness of the snow, Simon felt disoriented. And then the doors swung shut again, and Stella was gone.
HE PULLED OUT his cell phone and called Kevin, who hated talking on the phone. He answered with a snarl. “This had better be good,” Kevin said.
“It’s me. Stella’s in the hospital.” He spoke fast, before Kevin could hang up. He heard Ruby, Kevin’s girlfriend, in the background, the molasses drawl of her voice asking him who it was. “What?” Kevin said. “What are you telling me?”
“She’s in the hospital. She’s really sick. I need to know. That little pill you gave me—the red one—to chill out. What was it?”
“She took that pill?”
“What was it, Kevin?”
“Jesus, I don’t know. I always have pills. It could have been any number of things.”
Simon flashed to Kevin dropping acid right before an important interview, giving answers so funny it became a classic story. He remembered Kevin snorting coke before going onstage, grinning wickedly as he did it, his energy winning over the crowd before the first lick.
“It was red,” Simon said insistently.
Kevin was quiet for a moment. “Sort of longish?” he asked.
“Yeah—”
“Reds,” he said. “That’s my recreational stash. It’s just secobarbital. It’s a tranquilizer. Makes you all nice and woozy. High-school kids eat it like candy. It just takes the edge off. Ruby used to take it before she went to her classes. Safe as pie.”
“Who is that? What did I take?” Ruby’s voice sang out. “Kevin, babe, who is it?”
“Shush, Ruby,” Kevin said. “I’m trying to talk here.”
“She’s not waking up,” Simon said.
There was silence again. He heard Ruby. “Babe?” she said.
“Where are you?” Kevin said. “I’m coming right over.”
Simon thought of Kevin talking to Brenda, telling her about the drug, how it was recreational, how he had given it to Simon. All that crazy charm and noise, slick and suspicious. “No, don’t come. The streets are a nightmare.”
“You change your mind, you call me. Doesn’t matter what time, you hear me?”
“I hear you,” Simon said.
“Everything will be fine. And we’ll all be on our way to the sun tonight and this will just be a funny story we’ll laugh about.”
There was a roaring in Simon’s head. “Did you not hear me?” he said, panic rising in his throat. “I can’t leave today. I don’t think I can leave tomorrow—”
Simon could hear Ruby singing something low and deep in her throat. He heard Kevin murmuring something to her. “Rick wanted you,” Kevin said. “He talked about your songs. What am I supposed to do, call him up and say you can’t make it?”
“My songs will still be there and Rob’ll sing them and you guys will play them until I can get there,” Simon said. “The concert’s not for four days. A lot can happen between now and then.”
“Who’s going to do the bass guitar?”
“Come on, we each know at least six people who’d kill to do it.”
“Fuck,” Kevin said. “So you’ll come later, then.”
“Later,” Simon said, even though he couldn’t imagine spending a minute outside of the hospital.
SIMON FOUND BRENDA behind the triage desk. She glanced at him with a look that said she wished she didn’t know him, and he felt a flare of guilt. “I know what it is,” he said. “The pill. Secobarbital. Just one.”