Page 13 of Splintered
“No, not now.”
“Evan—”
“Notnow,” Evan said again, sharper. He handed the oxygen mask back to the first paramedic. “I’ll call in the morning.”
“Call who?” Ben snapped. “Let them take you in. You need to be checked out. Something happened to you, Evan—”
“I have a referral,” he said simply.
Ben’s mouth snapped shut. He stared at Evan. Swallowed. He had a referral? To whom? For what? When had he gotten a referral? Was… was this something Evan had known about? Had he not told Ben?
Questions simmered, feeding his quiet anger. He squeezed tight onto his biceps.
And then he winced and grabbed his wrist. It was puffy, clearly swollen. Shit.
One of the paramedics peeled away from Evan and came to him, peering at his wrist and gently taking it from Ben’s guarded cradle against his chest. He pressed up and down on the joint until Ben hissed and tried to pull away. “Looks like you’ve fractured it,” the paramedic said. “Did you fall?”
“When I came down the stairs. When I heard him screaming.”
Evan looked away. His jaw clenched.
The paramedics were quiet. Red and blue lights shimmered through the living room, reflecting in the mirror over the fireplace. “Well, you’re going to need to get that checked out, too. We can transport you to the ER, but for a broken wrist, it might be better to call your own doctor or go to an urgent care first thing in the morning. Might get seen faster that way.”
If he went, would Evan go too? He tried to catch Evan’s gaze, but Evan wouldn’t look his way. “I’ll take care of it in the morning.”
“Alternate ice on and off in twenty-minute intervals to help with the swelling. Keep it elevated on a pillow. Don’t use your hand or try to move it.” The paramedic tried to give him a reassuring smile. “We’ve just got a bit of paperwork and then we’ll be out of your hair, gentlemen.”
The paramedics packed up and made them both sign forms acknowledging they were refusing transport after the evaluation, and then gave them both a summary of treatments and instructions for follow-up care. “Please go get seen, Mr. Lombardi,” the one in charge said as he finished packing his kit. “What you went through sounds like it could be serious. You want to get that checked out. Also, you shouldn’t drive. Not until you’re evaluated. If you have another seizure, you don’t want to be driving when it happens.”
Evan nodded once, tight-lipped.
Ben walked them out and thanked them, waving as they clambered back into the ambulance and fire truck that had brought the team out. Firefighters milled on the sidewalk, chatting and drinking from thermoses in the pre-dawn stillness, the darkness of the street. They waved back, smiled. Everything was calm. Polite. Normal.
Ben shut the door on the soft voices and the flashing lights. He leaned his forehead against the wood, exhaling.
Nothing was normal. Nothing at all.
First things first. He needed ice for his wrist.
He took his time in the kitchen making his baggie of crushed ice and wrapping it in a towel. While he worked, Evan stayed silent in the living room.
He sagged against the counter, his chin hitting his chest hard.
Too many questions. He had too many questions bubbling and boiling in him. What was going on, and why was Evan keeping whatever this was from him? Where were the days when they shared everything, from giggling about popping pimples together to sharing colds because they couldn’t stop kissing? Bringing each other aspirin and massaging out aching muscles, alwaysbeingthere for each other?
This slow death was the worst, the atrophy of love, the wasting away of affection. The emptiness where there was once fullness, an ache like an amputated limb. The love of his life was in the next room, the man he dreamed of growing old with, and yet, he didn’t know him at all anymore. He hadn’t even known he’d come home or was sleeping alone on the couch.
He headed back to the living room, the ice bag balanced on his wrist. He detoured away from the couch, sitting instead on a chair and grabbing a throw pillow to prop up his arm. Evan sat forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands, hair sticking up wildly.
“Why do you have a referral?”
A deep sigh, like the house itself was exhaling. Sagging. “I… haven’t been feeling well,” Evan said carefully.
“Like what? Has this happened before? Have you had a seizure before?”
“No.” Evan shook his head. He winced, grabbing his hair. Massaged his temples, grimacing. “No, this is new.”
“Then what’s been going on?”
