In the Absence of You Page 8

  “Just get me warm water in a bucket, okay? Girly body wash on the side, and I’ll mix it myself. And some towels.”

  Emil stalks for the door but swings at my last request. “How many towels?”

  I’m at Nadia’s side, removing the thin sheet for a better look. I swallow, willing my fear into hibernation. “As many as you can get.”

  Bo hugs his girl tight. Unable to let go, he kisses her, sliding bloody hands over bloody skin. “Don’t fall asleep, okay? Don’t. We’ll be at the doctor’s soon. He’ll make us all feel better. I love you. I love you.”

  Nadia has stopped whimpering.

  “Bo. Go shower,” I plead as Troll barks, “We’re there in ten minutes. The ER’s waiting and ready to take her right in.”

  “I can’t leave her.” Embrace frozen around her, his eyes stay on Nadia.

  “You want to be there for her. Get ready! I’ll take care of her until you’re back. Nothing I can’t handle will happen in the next ten minutes.”

  It’s a lie—it’s a lie—

  But he obeys like a big, little boy who trusts someone because there is no choice.

  For a second, the skin stretching over Bo’s ribs hypnotizes me. He’s so skinny, pale, but he’s never been more alive than now as he flings clothes over his arm and pounds down to the shower, slamming the door closed to get ready for their aftermath.

  I won’t be the one to run into the hospital with her. I’ll go in later, I’m sure, with Emil and the others. I’ll wait patiently to learn the news. But right now, I’ll let my pink skirt and top drink her blood without restraint. The least of our worries are scraps of fabric I bought in some place I can’t recall.

  Emil arrives, drops to his haunches before Nadia’s face. She’s yellow, not white, and it scares my vision blurry.

  I blink, looking up at Emil. His stare is a reflection of mine. “Clean her up,” he reminds me. Between the two of us, we pull aside the comforter and sheets. We remove a sheer baby doll lingerie I’m sure was sexy before it soaked red up to the ribbons beneath her breasts.

  I pull her small panties off while Emil finds a maxi pad and a pair of my backup grandma panties I bought in case of extreme flooding. He returns, wringing the washcloth again and passing it to me so I can clean her off before we dress her.

  She moans quietly as Emil threads my panties up her legs. We wait until we can lift her hips and accommodate her against the new pad and underwear.

  “Ah damn,” he huffs, closing his eyes. His arms hang along his sides, fists clenching before they relax.

  It must be a lot to take in for any man.

  Bo’s here. He appears so quickly, so quietly, I don’t notice until he’s tall over us, watching me pull Nadia’s head into my lap. We’ve dressed her in a white T-shirt, maybe Bo’s. I’ve pulled a skirt up her legs, because there is no use in forcing her into jeans and boots for the ER. They will strip her down anyway.

  Bo’s hair is wet, dripping dark and smelling of wild herbs. He’s fixated on his girl, asking, “How is she?”

  “We’re almost at the hospital,” I answer, because it’s the best answer I can give. Nadia. Is not doing well.

  “She’s alive, man. She’ll be fine,” Emil says to his brother-in-arms, his friend since preschool in Sweden. It’s always Emil looking to Bo for advice. Now my heart rips into wet fragments at the sight of Bo searching Emil’s eyes for hope.

  “She’s alive,” Bo repeats, dressed in black slacks. A white shirt. A black jacket. It’s not a dress jacket, and he’s not wearing a tie, but I want to scream at him to please not jinx this: “Drop your funeral outfit. Get into your regular rocker getup.”

  “Yeah, man. Don’t even worry. ER doctors kick ass. They’ll fix her up.” Emil’s hand grips Bo’s arm, squeezing.

  Once we’re parked at the back of the hospital, the ER personnel barges onto the bus, efficient and white, clean hands clutching and lifting. I stand to the side, sucking in oxygen and watching as Nadia’s limp body arches backwards, long hair draping to the knee of a male nurse before he’s got her on the stretcher. Between him and another man, they get her off the bus in seconds flat.

  I’m impressed, scared to death, my heart raging for Nadia and Bo’s little to-be family, for the dawn of tomorrow. What will happen to them?

  Medicine today is amazing, I tell myself. They perform miracles every day.

  Bo leaves with her. The bus remains in the parking lot of the hospital, the three-thirty morning light eating in through our windows, reminding us how we should be asleep. Emil is quiet. He needs my support now, so he pulls me down on his lap in the captain’s chair he’s appropriated in the front lounge.

  “I’ve called a cleaning crew,” Troll mumbles, pitch uncharacteristically low. He’s here for us, rock-steady during all emergencies. No crisis is too small for him to worry about. None too big to handle. If they’re big, like now, no one is calmer than Troll.

  An anxious laugh teases my lungs at the thought of life, of how everything will move on, remain what it is around the crazy bubble Bo and Nadia and their unborn baby are in.

  “Coffee?” Troy asks, safari eyes on me first, then on Emil.

  “Ja, why not,” Emil answers, his first Swedish word slipping out in months. “Holy shit.”

  Elias nods, agreeing. Phosphorescent in the early morning light, he makes me think of real-life albinos. Or vampires. Because he’s as flawless as one.

  Again, I want to laugh; my mind doesn’t quit. It races all over the place, and isn’t it the sickest thing when life-twisting events occur and all one wants to do is laugh?

  “I’m never having kids,” Elias proclaims. Troy doesn’t speak up, but the glimmer in his eyes as he performs the subtlest eye-roll makes it easy to read his mind: You’re full of it, Elias.

  EMIL

  I hate hospitals. Whenever I tell someone that, they ask, “Oooh, what happened to you?”

  That’s not it though. Nothing happened to me. I just don’t like the smell, and I’m that crazy dude who doesn’t even find nurse uniforms hot. Rip them off is my vote. Dress in cool colors, girls. Come to think of it, syringes suck too, another reason why hospitals are gruesomeness times five.

  Troll has canceled the next show in Canada. It’s right across the border and the ticket sales are astronomical, he tells us just short of grumbling. There’s no way we’ll perform without Bo though, and he’s not leaving Nadia’s side.

  Most of the crew has left for the airport hotel Troll’s booked for us, but Elias, Troy, Aishe, and I are at the ER waiting for news. We want to confirm that Nadia’s out of danger before we leave.

  The soda and snack machines are in plain view, while Elias took a minute to locate the hot chocolate and coffee down a hallway. We’ve been back and forth a few times by now. We chat. But there’s still plenty of time to get lost in thought.

  Despite Aishe’s seduction last night, my decision hasn’t changed. That was a fluke. Yes, I love being close to this girl, but I can’t keep playing with her. We’re both better off with me sticking to random hookups I don’t have to see afterward.

  Doesn’t mean I can’t drag her down on my lap now, while we wait. Troy scrutinizes me but relents when I meet his stare head-on. I won’t apologize for needing a second’s reassurance and some warmth. I pull her into me, and she laces her arms around my neck, leaning her body against mine, breasts giving to my chest. It sure beats loneliness.

  I’ve got a tune in my head. I hum it but not low enough, I guess. A few of the patients hear me and try not to look.

  Troll comes by to check on us an hour later. He’s got the bus and the crew situated at the hotel and room keys to hand out. I’m fucking tempted to rent a room for Aishe and me just so I can have her in my arms all night. That’s where my boundaries need to go though. It’d be too tender and sweet and intimate.

  She’s sleeping on me when Bo breaches the frosted doors, returning to us alone. I sit up so abruptly Aishe slides between my thighs and jerks aw
ake. She stands, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

  “Is she okay?” I ask before anyone else.

  Elias’ phone drops to the floor—he’s been playing games on it for hours—and Troy straightens in his seat, dreadlocks flinging behind him against the plastic seat.

  Bo is like my brother, but I can’t decipher his expression this morning. There’s something ghostly about him. His pallor, certainly, which makes the dark rings around his eyes more prominent and the grey of his irises eerie.

  He crosses his arms, nodding. “Yeah. She’ll be okay. She lost a lot of blood. A lot.” His throat bobs on a swallow, and I’m hoping it’s because he’s relieved. Goddamn, I can’t take my brother like this. I remember him before Nadia. He had some gloomy fucking years before her.

  “What about the baby?” I ask and watch him stuff his hands deep into his pockets. His stare moves around, not looking at me, and—fuck—his chin quivers.

  “They replenished with several bags of blood,” he whispers as Aishe reaches him. She hugs him and pulls him toward us until he’s in our midst. “Nadia survived because of all the blood they gave her.”

  “Shit, man,” I manage.

  “I’m so sorry,” Troy says what I should have said.

  “But she’s okay. That’s the most important thing,” Elias says.

  My half-hug is supported by the others. We get Bo in some sort of huddle, eyes glossy for Nadia and him.

  “You can have other babies. There’re tons more where they come from,” I tell him. With tears running down her cheeks, Aishe glares at me like I’ve said something wrong, and for a fraction of a moment, she reminds me of my bitchy girl.

  “I don’t think Nadia sees it that way.” Bo can’t speak clearly anymore. There’s a warble to his tone I’ve never heard before. “She has lost so much, Emil. Everything she’s lost in her life.”

  “She’s never lost you,” I object. “You’re an ass, but she seems to dig you.”

  “True, man,” Elias chimes in, and even Troy approves of something I say for once. He’s usually stuck up and wanting things expressed differently and better and more politely. “True, she always seems happy around you, which must be your fault.”

  “I feel like apologizing for your friends,” Aishe mumbles, but Bo touches her shoulder before covering an eye with the back of his hand.

  “They’re keeping her overnight. Want to make sure she’s okay.”

  “They better. I mean, it would be pretty crazy if they didn’t, right?” Elias says, looking between us. “The back lounge was a freaking crime scene.”

  “Elias!” Aishe barks. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Sorry, Bo. It was crazy though.”

  “I’ll be staying here tonight,” Bo says to Troll, who nods and jingles the keys to his rent-a-car. “They’re rolling in a bed for me. She’s sleeping now, but she won’t wake up alone in that room.” Bo’s eyebrows contract as he works to suppress emotion.

  “Do you need anything before we head over to the hotel?” Troll asks, handing over his overnight bag. “I dropped your toothbrush in there.”

  “Ah no. I’m good. I’m going back in, guys. She needs me.”

  Yeah. We know.

  AISHE

  “I’m saying, ‘I don’t. Fucking. Care!’”

  It’s been three days since Nadia was released from the hospital, and we’re still stranded at the airport hotel. Troll isn’t his regular, impatient self. The man is in disaster mode, finding solutions and calming everyone down.

  Only this time it’s different. Because Bo is never the one freaking out. Bo invented stoicism. Controlled and in charge, he’s the perfect leader of Clown Irruption, yet now we’re stranded because of him and we’re paying for the bus, for the driver, canceling show after show while Bo refuses to uproot Nadia from their hotel room and move on.

  “All I care about is her, okay, and she’s not doing well. I’m not playing a single show with my darling this ill. Rent someone in for all I care.”

  Rent someone in? As in a hired musician?

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Emil shouts. “There’s no hiring people in to replace you ever. What the fuck are you talking about? Plus, Nadia looks fine to me. A little pale, but she was downstairs yesterday. She’s eating, right?”

  Bo whips around, glaring at his friend, eyes laser-bright with anger. Emil doesn’t look intimidated. They must have had their fights over the years. “You think because people can walk they’re okay? She cries herself to sleep, Emil.

  “She dreams about him, about growing thick with him. And then she wakes up, realizing that won’t happen, and she’s losing him all over again! Ah shit.” He scrubs his face and rakes his fingers through his hair in one desperate move. “Guys, I’m quitting.”

  “You’re what?”

  “I’m going back with her tomorrow. We’re leaving for L.A.”

  Even Troll needs a moment to absorb this.

  “Why tomorrow?” Troy asks, voice calm and buying time.

  “Her ticket expires. She was supposed to leave out of Pittsburgh tomorrow, but I’m getting it changed to right here in Fresco.”

  We’re at the hotel bar. It’s early afternoon and no one except the band is here, so when Emil slams his hand on the table, roaring, “You’re gonna ruin Clown Irruption over this?” only a bartender is there to see.

  “Sweetie…” The brittle voice comes from the door.

  Mostly, Nadia stays in their room. In the days we’ve been here, I’ve only seen her twice. Once, when Bo brought her back here from the hospital. Instead of using the hotel’s wheelchair, he carried her all the way inside, to the elevator, and up to their room. The second time was at breakfast yesterday morning. She forced herself to ingest a few spoonfuls of oatmeal, what Emil refers to as “eating.” He doesn’t understand.

  Nadia and I are both thin, but right now, the way she stands in the doorway, she’s the slightest alabaster statue hiding behind dark locks, so unassuming she could pass for a part of the design.

  I try to suppress my thought, but it comes anyway: it’s hard to imagine her lush with child.

  “Nadia, you’re up!” Bo’s stool screeches back as he jumps to his feet and swallows the distance between them. “Are you okay?” He bends in. Kisses her lips, touching her face like he didn’t just see her fifteen minutes ago.

  Love fire. They have it.

  She leans into his side, forehead hitting his chest and resting there as her eyes go to the floor. Bo wraps his arms around his love, keeping her safe against him. He wants to protect her from all the world. If only her pain hadn’t surged from the two of them. What a plunge they took, from bliss to grief, in just a few hours.

  “I’m done here, darling. I’ll take you upstairs,” he murmurs, but she shakes her head. Lifts a hand and points at our table.

  “I think we all need to talk.”

  A furrow of surprise settles between Bo’s eyebrows. “What about? All’s sorted out. You don’t have to worry anymore. I won’t leave you alone. I’m going home with you tomorrow.” Cautious, as if she’s made of porcelain, he helps her onto his stool and stands next to her, a hand on the backrest and the other over her stomach.

  She smiles a pale smile, eyes dull with their loss, but she shakes her head to him, saying, “No, that’s not what I want. This is your livelihood—all of your livelihoods—and we can’t jeopardize that because I might feel lonely. I’ve got Zoe. She’ll be there for me. She always is.”

  Emil sits next to me. It’s hard not to catch the way his eyes blacken at her mention of Zoe. I’m so selfish I think, Why did she have to mention her?

  For me, the hotel stay has been good. I’ve slept in Emil’s arms two out of three nights. He withdrew again as soon as Nadia was out of danger, and of course I see the writing on that one; Emil needs me close when he’s worried. And I, I’m at a point where I take what I can.

  “That sounds like a good plan,” Troll ventures, but Bo cuts in as if he never even spoke.<
br />
  “That’s not an option. There is no way I’m leaving you alone, like before, like when I was on tour and you were dealing with—”

  “Hush,” she says. “We’re not who we were back then, neither of us.”

  She’s unselfish, and again I make that about me. I’m a stark contrast, wiggling myself into Emil’s life to save my own.

  I want to get to know her better, see if some of that sweetness rubs off. At some point I want to hear their story. From quiet conversations and hints, I understand that their ever-after didn’t come easily.

  “Darling,” Bo murmurs, mouth against the top of her head. “Let’s not talk about this anymore. I’ll get you home, and then we’ll take one day at a time.”

  Her eyes widen, understanding that it’s a no. In the midst of her grief, she grasps what we’re grasping, that Bo is throwing away everyone’s hard work and future for no backup plans.

  My heart is drumming.

  Shandor stares at me, a new glow in his eyes. In his head, he’s already onto our next adventure. We’ll be fine. Shandor and I land on our feet like cats. But Emil would disappear from my life.

  “I want to stay on the road with you until I feel better,” she says. Her chin tips upward, and I see how she can be stubborn too. Nadia blinks back moisture before she continues. “I’m withdrawing from classes for this semester, baby, because I won’t be able to concentrate on my studies anyway now. So I’m free to come along. You can employ me.”

  Wow, she even tries for a joke.

  The silence is stunned. Two more months with Nadia on the road. God, I hope they agree. Although what other option do they have if they want to tour with a complete band?

  “Really? You’d do that for me?”

  “I’ll do that for us. For everyone.” The room seems to fill with air as people shift on their feet and breathe out. Elias brings his hands to his head, tugging at that bright white mop-top of his and blowing his cheeks up with relief.

  “Jesus, well, you saved our asses, girl,” Emil puffs out, stretching a hand out and ruffling Nadia’s hair. Bo slaps him away, glowering.

  “I was picturing myself fighting for a waiter job in Los Angeles until we were back on track,” Emil adds. “I suck as a waiter.”