Crystal felt his wrist for a pulse and then turned
to me.
"Brooke, get up here and help me get him
prone," she ordered. I stepped up and the woman
stepped back. She hu ed her daughter Denise to her. It
simply amazed me how efficient and competent
Crystal could appear, even to complete strangers. George was a rather big man, probably at least
six feet one and easily more than two hundred pounds.
We struggled and I looked to Raven, who came in
quickly and helped. Among the three of us we were
able to slide him off the seat and lay him gently on his
back.
Crystal went to work immediately. Even Raven,
Butterfly and I were surprised and impressed. I never knew she was capable of performing CPR. She knelt by his side and placed her right hand on his forehead and her left under his chin. I gazed at his face. He was a good-looking man with some gray at his temples. Crystal glanced up at me with concern and then she listened for his breathing. Without hesitation, she pinched his nose and brought her mouth to his. She
gave two full breaths and I saw his chest rise. Butterfly moved closer to Raven, who put her
arm around her.
"Is he dead?" the woman whimpered. Crystal put her fingertips on his Adam's apple
and slid them into the groove next to his windpipe.
She felt for a pulse.
"Is he? Oh my God, George!"
Crystal gazed up at me again, looking more sad
than nervous now. I could see it in her eyes, which
had become reflections of mine and of Raven's and of
Butterfly's. We had all lost our fathers. None of us
wanted to witness this.
"I think he's in cardiac arrest," Crystal said. She opened his shirt and put her hands at the
center of his chest, one hand on top of the other. "We have to get him to a hospital emergency
room, quickly."
"I can't drive this thing," the woman moaned. "I
don't want to move him," Crystal said to me.