Page 21 of Splintered
“What happened last night?”
“Another night terror, I think? I— I don’t know. He woke up screaming and thrashing.”
“Do you think it was another seizure?”
“I don’t know. He was trapped in the sheets. I tried to free him, but…”
“Is Evan all right?”
“Yeah, I got him free, but the sheet, it was… it just seemed to be… choking him. And he was terrified. I was terrified.” Hot tears slid down his cheeks. His voice wavered. “He wet himself. I don’t know if that’s a sign of it being a seizure or what happened to him being so terrifying, or—”
“I’m sorry to hear things are so stressful and trying for you both right now. I know this isn’t easy to go through, Ben. What happened next?”
He walked her through how he held Evan until the shaking stopped, through Evan’s mumbled gibberish, his shaking whispers. How he’d helped Evan into the shower and then cleaned up and put him to bed. “He’s sleeping now.”
“Good, that’s the best thing for him. Rest and recovery. How is his mood? His energy levels?”
“He’s exhausted. He sleeps a lot. He seems drained all the time. He used to work out every day, but just getting downstairs tires him out now.”
“That’s the medications. They can take some time to get used to. It can be an adjustment.I am concerned about the increase in the auditory hallucinations, though. It certainly sounds like those are increasing, even with the medications. I would like to add in an anti-psychotic medication—”
“Oh my God,” Ben breathed.
“This isn’t a diagnosis. The medications will ideally work together to help calm Evan’s brain. Something is overstimulating his nervous system and causing these symptoms. We’re trying to bring that stimulation back down, that’s all.”
“Is this going to help him? Will this cure him?”
“I’m very hopeful.”
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. I just want him to be all right.”
“Evan is very lucky to have you as his partner,”Dr. Kao said.“I’m going to call in quetiapine to your pharmacy. Pick it up this afternoon. It can also take some time to get used to, and it can be somewhat sedating at first. Try not to be alarmed. I’m here if you need anything. Please, do not hesitate to give me a call. We’ll get through this.”
* * *
Somewhat sedating.
Ben watched Evan sleep, again. Since the quetiapine began, Evan’s lethargy had taken on a new life. He slept nearly all hours of the day and night. When Ben could coax him downstairs to eat, Evan fell asleep at the table halfway through poking at his pasta or his steak. Three days of a near constant sleep.
His gaze slid to the earbuds resting on Evan’s nightstand.
Three days of Evan free from the earbuds. Three days, it seemed, of no voices.
He wanted to weep. He wanted to breathe in and never exhale, never move past this moment. If Evan was just sleeping, just like any other Friday night, just resting, then he could live in this moment for eternity. He could imagine teasing Evan awake with kisses, slide under the covers and shimmy next to his naked chest, press his lips across Evan’s collarbone and over his pecs. Wrap his arms around Evan’s waist and slide his palms down, cup his ass. Bring their bodies together. He could live a lifetime in one breath, one happy, hopeful breath.
He breathed out. And watched Evan sleep.
Ben dared to dream of next steps. Adjusting medications. Finding correct dosages. Dr. Kao had warned him that after things were under control, and after they found the correct cocktail of medications, dialing back the dosage to the most effective level with the least side effects could take some time. But once that magic combination was found, like a padlock twisting and turning, Evan would be back to himself. And free.
So he’d hold on until the next appointment. And the next. And they’d keep moving forward. Incremental steps.Together.
He heard the mail slot flap open and closed through the front door. They lived in one of the few remaining residential walkup mail delivery neighborhoods. It was quaint, getting mail through the door. He remembered chasing his dog to the door every day when he was a toddler. She’d sniff at the letters as he scooped them up in his sticky hands and they’d both trot back to Mom, proud as could be.
Ben squeezed Evan’s hand, limp on the covers, and padded downstairs. A chill crept through the house, winter seeping its way inside through the mail slot. As he kneeled to collect the scattered envelopes, his breath fogged in front of his face.
Bills, junk, a request for donations of old clothes—
A thick cream envelope, the kind that was only used by ridiculously wealthy people, lay in his hand.To Mr. Evan Lombardi.
