Page 168 of Lost Lyrebird
“Is he going to be okay?”Mateo’s standing.He has one arm wrapped around his stomach, the other crossed over his chest as he bites his thumb.His face is pale, and his eyes appear haunted.
“I think he’s just lost consciousness, but we’ll get him to the hospital just in case.”
He nods “I didn’t expect you to get here so fast.Thank you,” he says, sounding surprised but grateful.
I peer back down at Finn.His nose is still bleeding.His shirt and jeans are stained with blood, and some of it’s dried on his face.My hands tremble as I shake him gently.“Finn.Finn, wake up.What did you take?”Though I try to stay calm for Mateo’s sake, fear coats every syllable I utter.
Finn groans, his head lolls to the side.His lips move, but it’s a jumble of sounds, nothing coherent.
“Help me get him up,” I say with confidence, despite the adrenaline and anxiety pumping through my veins.“We need to get him to the bathroom.”
Mateo doesn’t hesitate.He moves to Finn’s other side, and together, we haul him up and drag him into the bathroom.Finn’s dead weight has us using every bit of our strength to manage it.We get him to the toilet and prop him up.My hands are visibly shaking as I grab his face, turning it toward me.“Finn, you need to wake up.You have topukethis shit up.Do you hear me?Finn.”
His head rolls forward.I go dizzy as the shortness of my breath tries to pull me under, my chest burns as the panic attack tries to take hold, but I fight through it.I don’t have time to get lost in my own head.
Before I can think too much about it, I pry his mouth open and shove my fingers down his throat, hoping it’ll trigger his gag reflex.He gags, his body jerking forward, and finally, he vomits into the toilet.I hold him steady and try again.When he’s vomited up most of what’s in his system, Mateo helps me move him, and I sit back against the tub with him in my arms.While combing my fingers through his hair, I whisper, “Stay with me, okay.Please, baby.Stay with me.”The words keep spilling from my lips over and over again.
Finally, the high-pitched screech of a siren cuts through the air.Mateo leaves the room.Not too long after, he comes back with the EMTs, and we start answering their questions as best we can.
They take over Finn’s care, and I step back to let them work.“He has dissociative amnesia and often gets really bad migraines.He’s been on meds for it, but I think he’s been taking more than he should or mixing them with pain pills and alcohol.”
“Are you his wife?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice firm.Because fuck them or anyone who would keep me away on that technicality.
One of the paramedics nods, checking Finn’s vitals, and the other places oxygen over his face.When he’s stabilized, they work to load him onto the stretcher.
I ask which hospital they’re taking him to and let them know I’ll follow in my own car.Mateo steps up beside me, his face a mix of worry and guilt.“Can I ride with you?”he asks.
“Of course.I just need to grab my keys.”
As the paramedics wheel Finn out, Mateo and I follow and watch them load him into the ambulance.When they take off, I pull out my phone, my hands trembling so badly that I misdial and have to start over.When I manage to get it to work, I call Raven.It goes straight to voicemail.So I dial Roxy and tell her what’s going on and that I need Bodie’s number.She gives it to me and tells me she’ll keep trying to reach Raven.It rings three times before he picks up.
“Yeah?”Bodie’s voice is thick with sleep.
No time for pleasantries, I say, “Bodie, it’s Lily.Finn… he’s in bad shape.Mateo found him passed out, and the EMTs just took him to the hospital.We’re heading there now… to Presbyterian.Can you get there?”
His voice sharpens and quickly becomes alert.“Yeah, of course.Is he… okay?”
“I don’t know.I think so, but… it was… he was bleeding pretty badly.”
“I’ll be right there.”
I hang up and immediately call Raven, but it goes straight to voicemail again, so I leave her a message.“Raven, it’s Lily.Finn is being taken to Presbyterian Hospital.I’m heading there now with Mateo.Call me as soon as you get this.”
The memory of what I saw earlier—his body sprawled out, I can’t shake it from my mind.Focus.
Needing to do something more than stand here before the panic completely takes over, I tell myself I need to pack a bag for him.He’ll need clothes, toiletries… anything that’ll make him comfortable once he’s conscious.If hewakes up.No, fuck that.He’s going to wake up.He has to.I swallow hard, pushing the negative thoughts away.
We reenter the apartment and go back into Finn’s room.This time it’s the walls that stop me cold.
Papers are plastered everywhere, from the floor to the ceiling.Words are written in the areas of the wall I can see, and strings are tying one thing to the next like a web.There are images, drawings, messy handwriting, fragments of thoughts, journal pages, magazine cuttings, and newspaper clippings.
I scan the walls in a state of disbelief.My hand covers my lower face as I move around and take it all in.
These are things I recognize: memories, conversations, places, people, or moments of my life.To anyone else, they would be seemingly random, but they’re all pieces of me.
The highlighted words… they’re what gut me the most.Little fragments of another time and place, snippets of conversations we had all those years ago.Pieces of that shared history he’s found and held on to.It’s pretty damn obvious he’s been desperate to keep track of everything, even the most minor details.But some of this is also new, like he’s been collecting tidbits about me and adding them to the wall.
