Last Call (Cocktail 5)

“Oh my God, are you sure? What does that mean? Jesus, what am I supposed to tell her?”

I poked my head around the corner, not wanting to interrupt her but not wanting her to think I was eavesdropping either. “Should I come back?” I whispered. She looked at me, and when my eyes met hers the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Her eyes were wide, and panicked, and filling with tears. The room narrowed, my field of vision now only including her face and that phone. “What’s going on?” I asked, my voice trembling. Because I knew, you see.

“Caroline, sweetie, it’s Benjamin,” she started, and my blood turned to an icy burn. It was only later that I realized I’d dropped everything I was carrying. Including the wine, which dropped squarely on my big toe. I had a bruise under the nail for months.

“What’s going on?” I heard someone say, and the someone was me.

“I don’t know, he just called and—”

“Give me the phone, Jillian,” I said, crossing to her in an instant and grabbing the phone out of her hand. “Where is he? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know anything yet, Caroline. I—”

“If you didn’t know anything you wouldn’t be calling Jillian, and she wouldn’t be gray right now. What’s happened to Simon?” I asked, my voice now rising higher and higher. I sounded shrill, I sounded desperate. I sounded scared to death.

“I don’t know much, one of the guys he was with called me. I’m listed as his emergency contact still with National Geographic I guess. There was an accident in one of the caves today. It’s so hard to understand what happened; the guy doesn’t exactly speak fluent English and the reception was so spotty and—”

“Goddammit, Benjamin, what happened?” I yelled, slamming my hand down on Jillian’s desk.

“He fell. He was on some kind of bamboo scaffolding, and the wire he was attached to wasn’t secure, and he fell. I don’t know how far. Enough to maybe break some bones.”

“Broken bones. Okay, maybe broken bones.” I exhaled, clutching the desk now as my knees wobbled. “Okay, okay,” I repeated.

“Not just that, Caroline, he was knocked out by the fall. There’s been some kind of damage to his skull. They airlifted him to a hospital, but as far as I can tell he’s still unconscious. I don’t know much more than that. I’ve been trying to reach one of the doctors treating him but—”

“Monica!” I yelled down the hall. “Get in here right now!”

“Caroline, what are you doing?” Jillian asked, and I held up a finger.

“Benjamin, I need to know where he is. What city, what hospital. I need a doctor’s name. I need his fixer’s name and his contact information,” I said to Benjamin, just as Monica was running into the office.

“Caroline, good lord woman, a simple Monica come on in here would have been—”

“Do you still have my passport information from when you helped me book our trip to Spain?” I asked, telling Benjamin to hold on.

“Yeah, yeah I should,” she said, looking from me to Jillian. “What’s going on?”

“I need you to book me on the first flight to Hanoi. Just give me an hour to get home and grab my passport. Text me the information when you have it.”

“Wait, Hanoi? When? How much am I allowed to spend? Where do you want to connect through? How—”

“As soon as possible. I don’t care. I don’t care. Please do this now,” I replied, now calm. “Benjamin, I’m leaving the office to go home and get my passport and then I’m heading for the airport. Jillian’s going to drive me so I can make some calls on the way. Find out what you can and call me as soon as you know more, okay?”

“Okay, you got it. You sure you want to—”

“You’re telling me that Simon is unconscious somewhere in the world. What the hell would I be doing right now?” I asked, handing the phone back to Jillian and heading for the door. “I’ll be ready to leave in two minutes. Monica, get me on a plane.”

Five hours later, I was on a plane over the Pacific. One seat left. First class. Do you have any idea how much a last-minute first-class ticket to Asia costs? Just start typing zeros, just line those fuckers up.

I sat in my pod, not watching a movie. Did you know in first class on those Asian flights you get your own damn pod? It’s like a minisuite, but on a plane. When Simon and I went to Vietnam awhile back, we flew business class. Sure, it was super nice, but it wasn’t like this.

Monica had to split it over five credit cards. I didn’t care. I was on my way to Simon. Benjamin had been able to get me some additional information before my flight took off. Still unconscious, he was being tested for what they called TBI, or traumatic brain injury. If there was swelling around the brain from a skull fracture, which Benjamin said they had not yet ruled out, he would likely need surgery to relieve the intercranial pressure.

Let me tell you what you should never do. Never go to WebMD and do a search for any of these terms. You will scare yourself silly. As it was, I was trying very hard to stay off the in-flight wi-fi doing exactly this. I kept checking my phone only for updates or emails from Benjamin, who still had nothing new to report.

So I sat in my pod and I thought. About my sweet Simon. Benjamin had called the hospital and spoken with the staff, letting them know that while I was technically not listed as next of kin or even as an emergency contact (something that would be rectified as soon as possible), that I was his fiancée and should be allowed to see him when I arrived at the hospital. Benjamin had also been given power of attorney when it came to Simon, something that had been established years before, when he was still at Stanford. My sweet Simon, totally alone in the world for years except for Benjamin, as he globe-trotted this way and that, not a care in the world other than his beloved photography. With Benjamin back in San Francisco, managing his finances and his sole contact in case there ever was an emergency, he was truly untethered.