Chapter Twenty-One
Monday, 8:50 AM
There was no denying it. Lucky was miserable. The ICU bathroom was calling him, and he couldn't bring himself to press the button for Nurse Ratchett. He threw the thin, white blanket to the side and pushed himself to a sitting position. He sat there on the edge of the bed with shoulders slumped, and he panted, exhausted by this small effort. After a minute, he yanked off his oxygen mask and cardiac monitors and swung his legs over the bed. Grasping his IV pole for support, Lucky drew himself up and moved toward his goal with cautious, halting, yet intentional steps. He moved as quickly as he could, realizing that it was a matter of minutes until he was discovered.
After relieving himself, he turned too swiftly and caught his bare foot on the bottom steel prong of the IV pole. Lucky felt himself falling as if in slow motion as he cried out a prolonged curse and went down and down until his side caught the full force of his weight against the hard floor. The crashing IV pole made a loud, clattering noise. He felt sharp pain as his IV ripped out of his arm and his breath knocked out of him. As if in a surreal dream, Lucky lay with his head on his extended arm and watched the blood drip down his other arm, over his hand and onto the neat, white tiled floor. His eyes stared at the patterned tile, and he comprehended that it was indeed a herringbone pattern, flowing perfectly until it reached the corner of the room where it ended in a half-tile cut neatly to meet the edge of the wall. His eyelids fluttered, and his view of the floor became a sea of white. His muscles relaxed as his eyes closed, and he heard someone moaning.
Swift footsteps approached, and then stopped abruptly. Someone shouted, and he heard more footsteps running. Five or six hands grabbed his arms and legs, and he felt himself floating through the air and landing on something soft, yet firm. His side touched the surface, and a valley of intense pain surrounded him and pulled him down into its darkness.
~*~*~*~
Lucky opened his eyes and saw a pair of warm, brown eyes regarding him kindly. His arm felt funny with a dull ache at the IV site, and he glanced to his left at a board that held his arm tightly with surgical tape. He raised it up an inch, and it was stiff and difficult to move. He closed his eyes again, trying to focus and reorient himself. He remembered falling in the bathroom, but that's it. The man reached out and gently touched Lucky's shoulder.
"Lucky," said Kevin Collins.
Lucky jumped at Kevin's touch and moved further up toward the head of the bed. He looked shaken, and as if noticing that he wasn't acting appropriately, quickly averted his eyes. The nails in his right hand pressed hard into his palm.
Kevin noted Lucky's skittishness and removed his hand. "How are you feeling, Lucky?" he tried again.
"Um, uh…okay I guess," Lucky replied groggily through his oxygen mask. He felt a sudden urge to cough, and gasped at the pain in both his chest and side. He laid back moaning and gripping his side.
"It seems that you had an accident and cracked a rib," Kevin noted. "Why did you get out of bed when someone could have helped you?"
"I don't want any help. I don't need any help. I want to be left alone," Lucky wheezed.
"Is that why you fell on the floor? Because you didn't need any help?" Kevin questioned with an eyebrow raised.
Lucky shot him as disgusted a look as he could manage with a mask covering his face.
"The doctors are concerned that you're underweight and have a substance abuse problem," Kevin stated calmly. "What kind of drugs are you taking, Lucky?"
Lucky didn't reply. He lay on his side, panting, trying to catch his breath and think at the same time. The more he started thinking, the more he panicked. Shit, he thought. I'm gonna get busted for doin' drugs. What else do they know? Shit. Lucky's thoughts migrated to his gun and the money that he stole from Roy's. What if Roy went to the cops? He wouldn't go to the cops, would he? Then, he'd be busted, too. Where's my gun? Where's my trash bags? What did I leave in them? Oh shit. I bet the cops have them. Oh shit. I've gotta get outta here.
Kevin noted Lucky's behavior and decided to sit back and observe for a moment. Lucky seems unable to focus for long, and he's very agitated and unresponsive, he thought.
"Lucky, I'll come back later when you feel a bit better and can reorient yourself to your room. How about if I come back after lunch?" he asked.
Lucky didn't reply, and flinched when Kevin patted him on the foot before leaving the room.
~*~*~*~
Monday, 2:32 PM
Emily felt nervous as she entered the doors to General Hospital. She was wearing a new Parisian outfit that fit her beautifully. The last time that she'd seen Lucky, he'd been virtually a dead body in the woods. She shivered at the memory and rubbed her arms briskly. Her mom said that she could visit him today, and that's exactly what she was going to do. Emily stopped in the women's restroom and pulled out a pretty pink lipstick, smearing it over her lips again and again and smacking them together. She pulled out the blush and the face powder and carefully applied each. Emily looked into the mirror and smiled her best model smile, tilting her head for the best effect. She ran her comb through her hair and wished that she'd placed some hairspray into her handbag before leaving the house. She bent down sharply and flung her hair up quickly to enhance its body and appearance. "Okay," she said out loud, and reached for the door handle.
Emily stood outside her mother's office and knocked. She opened the door when her mom said, "Come in." Monica wanted to go with Emily to see Lucky. She thought that she'd better prepare her daughter for how Lucky would look and coach her on what to say or not to say so she wouldn't upset him.
Monica motioned to a chair and said, "Sit down for a sec, Emily." Emily sat and looked expectantly at her mother as she nervously fiddled with her hands in her lap.
Monica leaned back on her desk and placed her hands in the pockets of her white coat. "Emily, honey, I wanted to prepare you for how Lucky will be when you see him." Monica frowned lightly and continued. "Apparently he was homeless for a time before he was brought into the hospital. He is very thin and underweight." Monica paused to determine the effect of her words on her daughter. "He still is in serious condition in the ICU with acute pneumonia, and he experienced a fall this morning that cracked a rib. So, he may be asleep the whole time we visit or in pain. Can you handle that, honey?" Monica cast a concerned look at Emily.
Emily looked up, her eyes a bit shiny with unshed tears and turned down ever so slightly at the corners. "I want to see him, mom, he's my best friend," she stated firmly.
"Okay, Emily, let's go see your friend," Monica said gently as she put an arm around Emily and headed out the door.
~*~*~*~
Emily and Monica walked into Lucky's ICU room. His bed was raised at the top so that his head was above his chest. He was asleep, his head hanging down to the left with his long hair draped across his cheek, and his right arm was placed across a pillow on top of his chest.
Emily walked up to his bed and sat quietly in a chair, just looking at Lucky. She stayed silent and motionless for ten or fifteen minutes, not wanting to disturb his rest. She was amazed at how long his hair had become. When she'd left Port Charles, he was wearing it fairly short and neat. Now, it was almost as long as hers. She lightly frowned when she noticed that he was so painfully thin. Lucky had always had a light build, but he now looked spindly or sickly. His exposed arm looked so long and thin.
Emily jumped a bit in her seat when Lucky
began moaning and gasping. His body jerked with the effort to draw in air, and his breaths
sounded wheezy and congested. Looking at Lucky like this made Emily feel a bit afraid. He
was always the strong one, the friend that she turned to when she was upset or in trouble.
How had this happened?
*** Emily was nearly 14 years old and had recently suffered a major humiliation. She shoved her books into her locker and tried to hold back the tears as she leaned against the hard, metal door. She was the butt of the biggest joke in homeroom. Someone had started a rumor that Jeff Trevathan liked her. Sharon Wilson had passed her a note from Jeff where he'd asked Emily if she'd go to the party with him. Emily had blushed with pleasure when she read that note. She'd spent all of homeroom in a happy daze, planning just exactly how she would tell him yes. When she caught up with him outside the door and touched his arm, she said "I'd love to go with you to the 8th grade class party." Jeff looked at her like she was crazy and laughed. "I already have a date, but thanks anyway." He laughed again, shook his head and moved away from her.
Emily raised her fist and hit the
door to her locker again and again. "That's not my face I hope," a cheerful
voice interrupted her reverie. Lucky Spencer's smiling face looked into Emily's downcast
eyes. "Hey, Em," he said softly, touching her arm lightly. "Are you okay?
What's wrong?" Emily told him what had happened, and Lucky took Emily into his arms
and gave her a bear hug. "I'm hurt. How could you accept a date from some other
guy?" he teased. "I thought we were going to the dance together - best friends,
forever." ***
Monica moved over to Emily and lightly placed a hand on her shoulder. She whispered in her ear, "Let's go, honey, and let Lucky have his rest. We can come back later when he's awake and feeling better." Emily nodded and followed her mom out of the room.