A Five-Minute Life

“Oh, you’re up,” she said, then froze when she saw the phone in my hand.

God, she was so beautiful and alive and right here. And it was all going to end.

“I should’ve thrown both phones away,” she whispered. “Or smashed them.”

“And then what?” I asked. “Keep me drunk every night? Was that your plan?”

She stared back at me, defiant. “Maybe.”

“You didn’t smash the phones because you

know what we have to do.”

She moved quickly across the room to set the tray on the table by the window. “I don’t have to do anything but go out into this amazing city and live my life.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, mustering the will to try to survive this. “No, Thea.”

She stiffened, her back to me, then slowly turned, arms crossed. “Delia called you?” Her voice struggled to stay strong and casual. “So what? Whatever she said, she’s lying. She hates you so she’s trying to ruin us.”

“Dr. Chen called me too.”

Thea flinched and my goddamn heart cracked.

“Seven of Dr. Milton’s ten trial patients have had strokes,” I said, hating every goddamn word. “Of those seven, two are nearly completely paralyzed, three are in a coma, and two are—”

“Stop,” Thea said, hugging herself.

I swallowed the word down. “We have to go back.”

“No.”

“A stroke is not reversible, Thea. There is no medication for that.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“And if it kills you?” I cried. “The other two patients died. But if you stop taking the Hazarin now, there’s a chance—”

“No. I’m not going back. I have time. I have a month’s supply—”

“And then what? They won’t give you more.”

She won’t make it a month.

Terror bloomed bright and glassy in Thea’s eyes. “I’ll worry about that later. I’m not giving up my time. I’m not. I won’t.”

“You can’t take the Hazarin,” I said, low and controlled. “It might kill you—”

“I don’t care.”

“I care!” The words reverberated around the room. “I f-f-fucking care.”

We stared each other down, then her gaze darted to the bathroom where the Hazarin bottle sat beside the sink. As if a starting gun to a race went off, we took off for the bathroom at the same time. I was faster. I blocked the bathroom door and grabbed the meds off the sink.

“Give them to me,” Thea said, pounding at my back. I turned, and she reached for the pills, grabbing at my arm. “Goddammit, Jim, give them…”

I held them in a vise grip and gently but firmly held her at arm’s length. She tore out of my grasp and put her hand out, fingers trembling.

“Give them back.”