On Second Thought

It was just a flash of a second. Wine sloshed over the rim of the glass Nathan was carrying. A woman jerked as it splashed on her back. Nathan stumbled, and someone stepped neatly out of his way, and he fell.

There was a thunk, and I couldn’t see my husband anymore.

A ripple of laughter rolled through the crowd. “Someone’s cut off,” a Wall Streeter said.

“Shame to waste good wine.”

“Make sure he pays for that!”

My camera was still pointed at Ainsley. I looked at her, and she wasn’t smiling anymore.

Her face was white.

Her boss, Jonathan, knelt down where Nathan had fallen.

I felt my heart roll. Get up, Nathan. Get up.

“Call 911,” Jonathan barked, and then my camera hit my side as it fell from my fingers, the strap yanking against my neck.

Nathan was lying facedown.

Wait.

He’d only tripped. He wasn’t a drama queen, not like Eric.

But he was just lying there.

A seizure?

Ollie the dog barked.

“Honey?” I said, but my voice was thin and weak. My wobbly legs carried me closer.

Jonathan rolled Nathan over, pressed his fingers against his throat.

Was he checking for a pulse? Why? Nathan just tripped, that was all. Big deal. Maybe his legs were a little weak because, yes, we’d done it against the wall not more than two hours ago, and it wasn’t as easy as it looked on TV.

Jonathan started CPR.

Oh, Jesus. Jesus, Jesus, this couldn’t be happening. This had to be a mistake. I’d never seen anyone do compressions before. It looked painful. Would Nathan’s ribs be okay? Should Jonathan ease off a little? “Honey?” I said. I was on the floor all of a sudden, on my knees. Please. Please. Please.

Nathan’s eyes were only open a slit. “Nathan?” I whispered.

“Help him,” someone said. “Call 911.” But that had already been said. 911 had already been called.

I could smell chardonnay.

“Help him!” my mother barked. “Somebody, breathe for him!” And somebody did, one of the frat brothers, the one who made the left nut joke.

Someone was saying “Nathan? Nathan?” in a high, hysterical keen, and I was pretty sure it was me. The dog was still barking. Then my sister’s arms were around my shoulders, and she was telling people to step back, make room, get a blanket.

But a blanket wouldn’t help him.

Nathan was dead.

Chapter Four (#ulink_13e0c111-af23-591d-91bf-be4bf58a257f)

Ainsley

I’d never seen anyone die before. Cross that off my bucket list. Not that it was ever on it, God!

I watched Nathan go from smiling to startled to dead. Just like that. My Spidey-senses had been going crazy, soaking in the happiest moment of my life.

There was the tag on Rachelle’s dress. Jonathan’s face of constipation. Nathan, carrying Kate’s glass of wine.

Then he tripped on Rob’s foot. It wasn’t Rob’s fault; it was crowded in here. The wine sloshed over the rim and sloshed down Beth’s back, making her yelp, and Frank turned. If Frank hadn’t turned, Nathan would’ve hit him, but he did turn, and Nathan fell forward, nothing to stop him.

His head hit the edge of the granite counter with a soft thunk, and his eyes widened, and just like that, he was dead.

I knew it before it was pronounced. I knew CPR wouldn’t work.

Eric and I followed the ambulance, Candy and Kate in Jonathan’s car, since he was parked on the street and able to get out without ten other cars needing to move first.

As we drove, I knew the ER doctors would try and fail. I don’t know how I knew, but I did.

“This is unbelievable,” Eric said, his face grim as he took a turn too hard.

I realized I should call Sean. “The kids are okay,” I said the second he answered, hearing laughter and silverware clinking in the background. So they had gone out to dinner instead of coming to the party. “But Nathan’s in the ER, Sean. Hudson Hospital. It...it’s pretty bad. Esther and Matthias are at our house with Eric’s parents.”

“Oh, my God. What happened?”

“We’re not sure. He...he fell and hit his head. They gave him CPR.”

“Oh, fuck,” Sean said. He was a doctor, and his words didn’t bode well. “I’m on my way. Jesus.” He hung up.

“I can’t believe this. I can’t believe it,” Eric said, careening into the hospital parking lot. “He has to make it. He has to pull through.”

He wouldn’t. Please God, let me be wrong about that.

We were put in a private waiting room while they worked on Nathan. I held my sister’s hand, and she looked at me, her eyes open too wide, as if she didn’t know who I was.

Sean and Kiara came, hugged and waited. The Coburns, thank God, someone had called the Coburns; Nathan’s parents, sister and brother-in-law came in, white-faced, panic-stricken, and Candy opened her arms without a word and just held Mrs. Coburn, murmuring quietly.

Then the doctor came in and confirmed what I already knew.

I’ll spare you the next hour.

In a weak voice, I offered to drive Kate home and stay with her, but Candy said she’d take care of it. Sure. A person needed her mother at a time like this. That made sense. I called Dad’s phone and left a message for him to call me, no matter how late, that it was important.