He moans a little in my ear and helps me push down his pants and his boxer briefs. When our bodies are pressed to one another, he kisses me again and again.
This feels different from how it felt at the club. There was all that mystery and uncertainty, but this feels good and comfortable in the best sense.
"Do you have anything?" I whisper into his ear.
"Yeah, in my bag."
He reaches over the bed and grabs it off the side of the chair. I continue to kiss him, licking his abs and then going further and further south, grabbing his butt cheeks with my hands, and then my phone goes off.
I usually keep the sound off, but the hospital told me that they will get in touch in case of any emergency. Grabbing it off the nightstand, I answer immediately.
"Your mother's condition is getting worse. We'd like you to come in,” the nurse says on the other end.
Her voice is professional and courteous and sounds like the kiss of death.
35
Jacqueline
When we get to the hospital, Dante holds my hand as Dr. Ellis meets with us in front of my mom's room.
"The pneumonia has become quite severe," she says. "She will need to show a positive change within the first two weeks, otherwise there'll be nothing that we can do for her."
My heart sinks, but Dante pulses his hand to show his support.
"We just turned her on her stomach, oxygen saturation is just at 87, but that was just when she was turned,” Dr. Ellis continues to rattle off information that I can barely process let alone understand. “She still has to get into the flow of being turned onto her stomach. She needed a little bit more sedation during turning, but there has been no growth seen in the blood cultures. Our goal is to try to manage to get her blood sugar to a healthier level. In this past week as you know, she needed a lot of extra sedation medication, but luckily, none this morning."
"So why did you call me now?" I ask.
"She had a scary setback just an hour ago with the pulse ox dropping dangerously low when we went to turn her on her back. We need to see this aggressive viral form of pneumonia start clearing out of her lungs, to see a more positive sign of her being able to get through this. When we called, things were looking grim. I thought that maybe we would lose her, but she's stable now, still critical, of course."
"No, thank you for calling me," I say. "I needed to be here."
"Visiting hours aren't officially open, but of course you can stay. I'm sorry to have you worry, but ..."
"No, I need all the updates. Please, whenever, it doesn't matter what time of day or night."
"Of course."
After Dr. Ellis leaves, I take a few steps away and I lean against the wall and stare out at the exit sign in the distance, the harsh fluorescent lights blinding me just a little bit until my eyes adjust.
"I'm really sorry, Jacqueline,” Dante says.
I see him holding my hand as I dissociate from my body. Our fingers are intertwined but not really. My hand belongs to someone else.
I'm glad that he doesn't say that she's going to be okay or make more promises that he cannot keep. I’m also glad that he’s here.
Some time passes and I find myself in front of a vending machine. Dante is there. He asks me what I want, but I can't choose.
I don't want anything, and I can't imagine what any of the stuff inside tastes like.
I just stare at him and wait for him to make the decision: pretzels, and M&M's, and Lay's potato chips. There's another machine with healthier options right next to this one with apples, yogurts, and bananas in various slots.
Without me having to ask, Dante walks over and buys a Granny Smith, handing it to me.
"Do you want this instead?” he asks.
My mouth starts to water and I nod. He wipes the apple on his shirt. When I bite into it, the juices flow, overwhelming my senses.
For a second I feel just a tiny bit better and that's enough for now. We spend the whole day in the hospital, followed by another.
He's there when I get the updates and he celebrates the little victories, the pulse ox staying stable at 90, dipping down to 89 and then going back up to 91 once in a while.
I hold her hand.
I tell Mom how much I love her and how much I want her to come back to me. The nurses check on her every hour. The last two times, they don’t have any problems turning her back onto her stomach with the stats remaining good, pulse ox stable at 90.
They take her off the machine. The FIO2 is at 80%, but that's just helping to give her the extra oxygen that she needs right now. Her blood sugar has come down to the mid hundreds and I feel a small relief about the stability of her condition.
Right now it looks like she might make it, but there's still a long way to go. A whole field of mines to avoid.
And through it all, Dante stays. He cancels a work trip and he puts in a lot of hours on his laptop, sneaking it in whenever I'm resting or watching Netflix or reading.
The days all blend into one and Friday comes sooner than I think it will.
"Shit," I mumble to myself.
"What? What's wrong?"
"I forgot I have to pay,” I say when I see the note on the door of the hotel room.
We walk over to the office where a dissatisfied older gentleman with a TV blaring in the background tells me that I owe another $400 if I want to extend my stay.
I hesitate.
I know that one of my credit cards is overdrawn and I don't have the cash for this.
Dante pulls me aside and asks, "Do you want to stay in a more comfortable place?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I mean, this place is fine.”
“I’m going to cover it.”
"No, I can't ask you to do that.” I shake my head.
“Don’t worry about it. My only request is can we stay in a little bit of a nicer spot?”
Mom's condition seems to stabilize. The next day, there is no news. Just updates about higher than normal oxygen levels and a normal blood pressure.
Dr. Ellis mentions that she's hopeful, and Dante takes me out to celebrate. He ended up booking a suite at the Marriott and with its floor-to-ceiling windows, a view of the pool and the hot tub, as well as the outdoor bar, it’s quite an upgrade.
One morning, I wake up early. I leave Dante in the bedroom and decide to do a little yoga following a YouTube routine.
I haven't stretched out or done much in terms of exercise in a while and it feels good to engage my body.
But I had forgotten to charge my computer and, when I try to put it in the middle of the floor, the plug doesn't reach. I see Dante’s laptop on the dining room table. I know the code from last night when he was busy chopping up vegetables and asked me to check his email.
When I log in, the windows that were open before pop up. I’m about to close them when I see my mother’s name in the subject line.
My mouth drops open.
Dear Mr. Dante Langston,
Thank you for paying for Elizabeth Archer's treatment.
Unfortunately, the payment you submitted was for the surgery only.
If you're unable or unwilling to pay for the rest of the treatment, we will have to be in touch with the patient’s next of kin in order to make the proper arrangements.