“Oh, right. He told me that. Pravat…” he leaves off, sounding so unsure I want to crawl through the phone and wrap my arms around him.
“Just concentrate on one thing at a time. Is there a street sign near you?”
I wait, and after a moment, Rama gives me his location. Jotting it down, I tell him I’ll call Pete for him. I hate ending the connection between us, but I have no choice.
Relief floods me when Pete answers on the second ring.
“He’s what?” He asks incredulously after I tell him the situation. “That’s a good twelve blocks away from here. And why did he leave work so early?”
“He sounded confused. Will you go pick him up? He’s sitting on some wall near a church. And Pete, please call me when you have him home safe.”
The next several hours drag by. I know Pete’s busy getting Rama home and comfortable, but what if something happened? What if, when Pete got there, Rama was nowhere to be found? Worry consumes me, and I keep going over my conversation with Rama, wondering what could be making him act so out of character. A Google search tells me it could be a lot of things, ranging from a urinary tract infection to a head injury or even a stroke.
When Pete finally calls me back, it’s well after dark. I almost drop the phone in my hurry to answer it. When he reports Rama’s safe and in bed, I fall back on the couch in relief.
“I found him two streets over from the address you gave me. He was sitting on the pavement talking to a homeless man. I took him straight to the emergency room.”
“What did the doctors say?” I ask.
“He was a little dehydrated. After they gave him fluids, he rallied and was irritated as hell that I’d taken him to the hospital.”
“You did the right thing,” I assure him.
“While the doctor was looking him over, I called his boss. He said he’d sent Rama home at noon because he seemed tired and disoriented. He wants him to stay out the rest of the week.”
“That’s good. Wait. He left at noon? That’s three hours before I spoke to him. What in the world had he been doing during that time?”
“He said he couldn’t remember.”
I rub my eyes. “Weren’t the doctors concerned? Didn’t they want to run any tests?”
“Yes, but Rama refused. Maybe Alex is right and it’s exhaustion and will clear up after a day or so of rest. He’s going to stay home with Rama tomorrow.”
“Sounds like you’re taking good care of him. I wish I could help. Please keep in touch.”
Pete promises he will, and I have no choice but to head to bed even though I know I won’t be able to sleep.
What if Rama’s current state resulted from an underlying condition? What if he worsens and has to be hospitalized? I begin calculating if I have enough money to fly to America. It’s doubtful, but maybe I could borrow some from Kiet. When I look at the clock and find it’s after two in the morning, I finally give up on sleep and make myself some coffee before returning to my canvas, painting being the only activity that holds a chance of distracting me from my worry.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Rama
Ifeel as though I’m waking from a long dream. It’s Sunday and I’ve missed three days of work. I might as well kiss the internship award goodbye.
I don’t remember much of the past few days. Alex and Pete have been watching me like hawks, although I don’t think I’ve done more than eat and sleep.
I do recall being out on the street and, I think, talking to Pravat on the phone. Had that really happened?
After taking my first shower in days, I join Pete in the kitchen where he’s sitting at the table having coffee. His face brightens when he sees I’m up and dressed.
“Feeling better?”
I nod. “Much better. I’m sorry you’ve had to take care of me.”
“You don’t know how good it feels to have you back to your old self. You really had us worried.”
While pouring a cup of coffee, the memory of walking into the living room and seeinghermakes me fumble and spill the hot liquid.
“Rama.” Pete’s suddenly beside me, taking the carafe out of my hand. I stare at the puddle on the marble countertop