Sing

CHAPTER 20.

MONICA

I’d gone home to shower and rest. I shouldn’t have. The Drazens had a suite at the hotel across the street and I should have eaten humble pie and just gone there. But I couldn’t ask Sheila for the key, and I didn’t have a change of clothes or the extravagance to buy new. Fucking pride, and now I was stuck in traffic ten blocks from the goddamn hospital. Another hour lost.

Sitting in traffic in thebestfuckingthingever was far better than sitting in traffic in the Honda. And it beat the bus by a mile. But traffic was traffic, and sitting still in a Jaguar while helicopters beat the air overhead was infuriating. Having grown up in Echo Park before it was a real estate investment opportunity waiting to happen meant I was familiar with this type of police action. A perimeter was being sealed off so every car could be checked. Usually, it was a cop killing that created this kind of chaos. Or a gang assassination. Maybe a child abduction. I ticked off the list then closed the windows and sang a couple of the songs I’d prepared for the EP, belting it out in the shitty acoustics of the car.

I flipped the news on. Music was just messing up the rhythm in my head, which I needed. Talk talk talk, and I half listened to the clipped chat of a mob shooting outside the golf course. No child abduction, but a typical drive-by. I felt like I knew the details without even hearing them, and I internally restated my belief that penalties should be harsher for crimes committed during rush hour. This was going to be awhile. I sang to the leather dash, letting the news drift away.

Yea, though he stands in the fear of the dark

I shall walk at his right hand

I have drawn rod and cudgel

In his defense

I shall lead him to the gate

And if he seeks his end

My heart shall keep him safe

I can walk

Without it

I can work

Without it

I can sing

Half a woman

Surely goodness and mercy

Prevail in a city of sin

As barter for a life

Beats for beats

Breaths for breath

Trade a heart for what’s mine

I can breathe

Without it

I can see

Without it

I can sing

Half a woman

I was leaning my forehead on the steering wheel when I finished. I couldn’t get the rest of the song out. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see through my tears. This sucked. He didn’t have long, I could see it in the doctor’s faces when they spoke with a sense of urgency, like their own careers were on the line if he died. The inconvenience of it would be epic for them.

Meanwhile, I’d die with him.

The phone rang. Fuck it. It wasn’t like I was moving. I picked up Margie’s call.

“Hello?” I didn’t realize how snotty and blubbery I sounded until the last vowel came out in a froggy croak.

“Are you okay?”

“The love of my life is dying, so, no.”

“Well, I called with a little something. Guy just came in with half a brain and a working heart. We’re fighting our way up the list and they’re checking for a match. But he’s the same blood type.”

“Oh, God. Really?” My face exploded in prickly happiness and tears sprung into my eyes.

“Top secret, ok? This is not public knowledge, but I know people who know. Don’t get your hopes up. The family’s going to be an obstacle. Donor cards don’t mean anything without a living will, and they’ve got more hope than Jonathan has time.”

“Is it evil to hope he dies?”

“Yes. You and I both.”

“See you in hell,” I said, with a little less cry my voice.

“I’ll buy the handbasket.”

The traffic broke suddenly, and I was waved through blockade on Beverly and Rossmore.