It Was Life or Death - Darcy Vebber

Suki’s apartment had been different once, larger, a whole elegant floor now haphazardly divided into rooms with walls that were not parallel or did not reach the ceiling. For some reason – there was no apparent reason to any of it – the bathroom was huge. It required two overhead lights and an extra large bathmat. It had a claw foot tub both Suki and Bobby could happily bathe in, built in storage and its own electric heater.

The heater was on and the water was running in the stained pedestal sink when Suki found Bobby on the bathroom floor. He was lying on his side, on the cracked octagonal tiles, and his lips were blue. She turned off the water before she called 911. Someone else turned off the heater, maybe one of the many young EMT’s who gathered in the bathroom – big enough for all – to touch and examine and discuss.

One carried oxygen, another the defibrillator kit, another gloves and masks. They bumped a gurney up the stairs and into the apartment but could not get it, even folded into a kind of wheel chair, into the bathroom itself. They were strong though and they carried Bobby and his oxygen, easily into the hall where they settled him, strapped him, covered him with thin flannel blankets.

The sight of their arms, muscle bulging boy arms, stayed with Suki. I was used to Bobby, she said to someone later. I just got used to how thin he was, how fragile. I forgot.

They were taking him out the front door, another strange addition to the place as it was metal and didn’t really fit in the frame. The landlord said it was for security. The last of the EMT’s turned to Suki. “Coming with?”

Like a boy, like a boy in a group of boys, going someplace after class, shyly offering a girl an invitation. Her throat unaccountably closed. She nodded. She was small herself and wouldn’t take up much room.