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I swear to God, this was not supposed to happen. I wouldn’t typically swear on an entity I’m not completely sure it exists, but this was the last thing I expected when I entered that dirty diner.
It’s the best one in San Francisco, Leo said.
I think that there are other ones that are better, this one smells bad, I answered him as I read the menu.
He ordered a milkshake and a big portion of french fries. What do you want to eat? He asked me after the waitress left our table.
I’ll just have some of your fries. Not hungry, I said.
He rolled his eyes back. You always say you don’t want to eat anything and then put your hands all over my food, Peter.
His complaints made me want to throw my hands around my throat. Well, if you are bothered with this, we can just leave. I told you. This place reminds me of the junkies I lived with while in rehab.
He sighed deeply and turned down his eyes for a bit. I could notice him biting his tongue as if he was nervous.
I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, he said, leaving the table. Don’t touch my french fries before I come back.
Now that you asked, I’m gonna do that, I told him.
I grabbed my phone. My mom had sent me a text asking me where we were. It was her idea for me to spend more time with Leo, because we don’t hang around and I'm usually too in a bad mood to hang around with my little brother as if we were mates or something.
I was just about to text her when he came back from the bathroom, paler than usual. I found it weird, he had been way too quick, Leo is that type of guy who takes hours to do anything. His eyes were wide and it looked like he had seen a dead body.
I’m sorry, dude. I ate all of the french fries. Are you okay? I made a joke, trying to soften his reaction. It failed.
Peter, he stuttered while whispering, I think there’s a dead guy on the bathroom floor.
What? I asked him in a loud whisper. A dead guy? How do you know that?
I saw him laying down still. I would see him from the space between the door and the floor, and he wasn’t moving. I called him and he didn’t move. God, I was so disturbed I lost my will to pee. You gotta check on him!
I got up from the table just as the waitress came back with the french fries and the milkshake. She looked confused but I ended up asking for a take-out.
Once we got to the bathroom, he showed me. I kneeled on the ground. It was the figure of a thin, pale and young boy, around my age, laying down. Is he dead, my brother asked. I tried to open the door. It was locked. Peter, is he dead?!
Shut up, Leo. I can’t hear him breathing.
I sneaked to the ground and pulled the boy through his legs. His eyes were closed but it didn’t look like he was sleeping. I shook his shoulders and called for him. I looked for his hand to find a pulse when I saw his arm. There wasn’t a single spot that hadn’t been stabbed by a needle.
It’s an OD, I said. He just overdosed.
Shit, Peter! Fuck! He’s dead, isn’t he? He just died on the bathroom floor. God, this is so depressing.
I laid my head on his chest.
He’s alive, I said. He isn’t dead, I think he’s just out of it. My hand went to the pocket of my pants, looking for my phone, but I couldn’t find it. Shit. We need to call an ambulance.
I think I have it with me, Leo pulled his phone and dialed 911.
What’s your emergency, a female voice asked me.
There’s a boy, he’s unconscious, I think the OD. Can you please send me an ambulance? I don’t think he has an ID with him.
Is he breathing?
Leo put his hand over his mouth.
Yeah, I think so, but barely. You know, just very faint blows, I guess, he said.
She asked about his pulse. Very weak, I said. I can’t feel it properly.
Can you do CPR? She asked us. Yes, yes we can do it, I said. We had never done it. I mean, I once saw a guy doing it on TV but that was a long time ago.
She asked for the address. I didn’t know it, Leo had to answer it for me. You must do chest compressions. Can you do that?
Fuck, yes. I can. I put my hands onto his chest and started pressing it. One, two, how many times, I asked.
Thirty. Then two rescue breaths. I looked at Leo. You do that.
I’m not kissing a stranger, he whispered to me as I pressed his chest down.
Yes, you will do it, I said, because this could have been me. I almost died on this shit. This guy must have a father or a mother or a brother that are worried sick about him dying alone on a dirty bathroom floor.
Just as I finished the first cycle of compressions, Leo got on his way to lay down and give the rescue breaths. But he hesitated as I watched him go back.
No, I can’t do that. I’m sorry, dude, I can’t.
Fuck you, Peter, I said as I laid down and gave him two breaths. I monitored his pulse. Still weak, I said to the attendant.
Keep doing it. ETA is seven minutes.
Jesus, this guy doesn’t have seven minutes! I screamed. My voice was rapid and tottering. Leo, try to sneak under the cabin. He must have left something, an ID, the shit he used for this. Don’t be useless, do something!
I felt bad for snapping at him, of course. But it was my urgency sense talking louder. I had seen my peers die from an overdose. Leo sneaked under the door. He came back after a second while I gave him two more rescue breaths.
He’s not coming back, I said. Why isn’t he coming back? Am I doing something wrong? My fear was crude to some form of raw desperation, there was no time to think, I couldn’t think if I was pressing it deep enough, on the right spot, if my breaths were breathing good enough for him, if he would come back from this. His chest had no flesh to protect him, I felt like I was pressing a sack of bones instead. His head was lolling lifeless side to side as I pressed down his chest.
His name is Nic, Leo said. Nicholas Sheff. I pulled my eyes from the so-called nameless boy that was laying lifeless in front of me. I got distracted. He had a name, he had his ID, somebody must be looking out for him, he must have a family that isn’t able to sleep for weeks because their son is missing. His life was in my hands. I couldn’t fail.
Then, I heard a sound. It wasn’t a breath, it came from his throat, it sounded like water when it boiles in the pan. He’s gonna throw up, Leo said. He turned his body on the right side just when it came down. It was disgusting and I almost puked too, if relief hadn’t invaded my body like a shy wave of hope.
He coughed once, twice. Yeah, he’s back, Leo said, like he had just woken up from sleep. I shook his shoulders, trying to grasp his consciousness so it wouldn’t run away again.
Hey, Nic, I said. Can you hear me?
His eyes were unfocused until they landed on me. What? He whispered, a raspy, tiny voice. He tried to get up, but I pressed his shoulder to the ground. Don’t move, I told him. Help is coming. You had an OD.
I laid my hand on his neck. I could feel a stronger, a “I will not escape again” kind of pulse. He was there.
I’ve been on your place so many times, I said. I don’t think he could understand me. He started to look like he was going to pass out again, so I pressed his cheeks. Come on, dude. Don’t do this.
Hmm, he moaned. Yes, stay with me, Nic.
Leo, the ambulance must be arriving. Go warn the people at the diner, tell them to give some space, I told him. He got up and ran.
I did something weird. See, I’m not this caring, soft guy who happens to casually perform CPR on a stranger and treat him as if he were a long time friend, but I laid his head on my legs as if they were some kind of pillow, just to give him the tiniest bit of comfort I could offer.
A muffled sound escaped his lips. I thought he was going to throw up again, but it wasn’t that. No, he was crying. Unapologetically, desperately crying. His shoulders were trembling and his body was shivering, it felt like a hurricane above my legs.
It’s OK, I said. You’re good.
This wasn’t the first time, he said as it was some sort of confession to the priest. I’m a lost cause.
This doesn’t change anything.
You should have let me die, he cried. My dad hates me.
Tell me about him. About your dad.
He stopped crying for a brief moment.
He’s a journalist. He is a freelancer or something. He writes for a lot for different newspapers.
Your dad is a writer? Cool. What does he write about?
Lots of things. About me. He said I’m his beautiful boy or this kind of John Lennon’s crap. He sang this song to me when I was a child and I couldn’t sleep because of nightmares.
It doesn’t seem like he hates you, I said. He seems pretty cool, actually. You know, my dad never sang anything to me. Or to my brother. But we would always count to 112 when we couldn’t sleep.
112?
Yeah. The funny part is that we would always fall asleep before he completed the counting, so me and my brother would keep going. He said it was his lucky number. I was born on November 2nd and my brother was born on February 11th. So, yeah. His lucky number. Doesn’t matter the hemisphere.
That’s beautiful, he said. I feel sick.
Are you gonna throw up again? I asked, preparing myself to turn him around in case he needed to.
No, he said. He took his hand to his head and pointed it. I feel sick right over here.
I paused for a moment. What to say, what to do? I’m not a therapist or a shrink. I’m not even someone I like. Help is gonna get you, Nic, I said, They will help you.
I’m helpless, he said. I don’t have a roof or a bed or someone I can call.
Soon he started to get sick again, so I helped him sit up and lean to the toilett so he could throw up. I picked his ID that was on the ground. He looked so different from the boy in the picture.
Leo came back soon after he stopped vomiting. The ambulance is arriving, he said. I could hear the sirens getting closer and closer by the moment. The medics are here, I told Nic, who didn’t seem to be much aware of it. Can we call your dad? Maybe he can meet you at the ER.
You shouldn't have called the ambulance, he said, shivering. I took off my coat and gave it to him. He already had a jacket, but he was so cold and trembling so much I couldn’t just not do it. I never liked that coat anyway. They are gonna send me to rehab again and it’s not gonna work. It never has. I’m so done with this shit.
I wanted to say, hey, I know this feeling, I know it better than any other doctor that will come and take your pulse and make you breathe again, but, soon after, the ER team invaded the bathroom without asking for permission. I knew they could handle the situation better and that Nic needed them more than me, but I felt like they were just invading some sort of secret, short sanctuary that we had just built. Like it was a secret language that only two people could understand.
The medical team came and started doing all that stuff they do, they connected him on a heart monitor, put on an oxygen mask and started asking him questions. One of them turned to me. How long was he under after you started CPR? She asked me, taking his blood pressure.
I don’t know, I said, turning to Leo, expecting a hint from him. Two minutes, he said, probably more.
Good job, she said, you saved his life. She then turned to Nic, who had regained a bit of color. You were very lucky these two have helped you, sir.
I felt angry at her, even though she had no clue. Lucky for overdosing on the ground of a messy, dirty diner only to be found by an ex-addicted? What a joke.
They wheeled him to the ambulance. We left the bathroom and the whole diner was staring at us, blown eyes like we were some sort of A-list celebrities walking on a red carpet. Leo took all of his belongings that had been left on the toilet and handed them to the paramedics. Can I go with him? I asked. Is he gonna be okay?
Are you family? One of them, the oldest one, asked, cynically.
No, but I gave him CPR. We were talking, he said he felt sick in his head, he told me he has no one, I tried to explain to them. He told him he has no one, I repeated. Could they understand?
He stared at me with an undeniable, unjustified empathy that it felt like a knife, cutting me in million parts, because it meant a no, you’re not family, you’re just a stranger, you’re no one.
I’m sorry, kid, he said. Only family is allowed.
I wanted to say, do you see anyone from his family here with him? Do you? If he had, he certainly wouldn’t have overdosed alone. But instead, I cowardly nodded.
Okay, I said, blinking and walking to the stretcher. Leo came right after me. Nic’s eyes were closed, but the monitor and something else could tell me that he was still there, awake, conscious, not gone yet.
Hey, dude, I said, shaking gently his shoulders. His eyes fluttered and opened in a slight fence. Hey, he said.
You’re gonna be fine. You will see.
Was I lying or being stupidly hopeful? I didn’t know, to be honest. But I knew that, if there was a God, if He existed, and He was so merciful He let me go though this and survive and be OK at the end, He would do the same for him, because he wasn’t any worse than me, he couldn't be.
I pulled out an old receipt from my pocket and asked the driver for a pen. I wrote rapidly my name and my phone number. Hey, this is for when you get charged from the hospital. Maybe we can go and do something. You seem like a nice guy, I said. He held it weakly through his fingers. A faint, shy smile formed into his lips.
Thank you, he said, looking to me, and then to my brother. Thank you for the help. For not letting me go.
Don’t mention it, I said.
Soon they lifted him to the ambulance and drove away. I stared at it as it disappeared onto the road and then turned to Leo.
He’ll be fine, Leo said. You were fine.
Yeah, but not because of you, mr. I Won’t Kiss A Stranger, I said. You’re an asshole, Leo, I cursed as I made my way back to the diner.
Oh, c’mon! If not for me, we would never have come to this diner anyway. I was the one who found him, Mr. Hero.
I didn’t say anything back, it didn’t need to. When we got back to the diner, our take-out was ready. I felt sick to the stomach at the thought of eating anything. How could I eat? When was the last time Nic had eaten something? Was he hungry? Drugs mess so much with your appetite.
Should we get something for mom? Leo asked.
I snapped back to reality. Yes, yes. Sure. Let’s get a hamburger, I said, making the order. We sat down again in silence. It came back after fifteen minutes.
You don’t have to pay, the waitress said. You guys did such a great job with that boy. It’s on us.
Leo and I stared back at each other. Thank you, I said, taking the order. They hadn’t charged us from anything that afternoon.
Well, I guess stopping a random guy from dying in the bathroom of your restaurant can really get you some benefits, Leo commented on the way home.
Yeah, I said. I guess it really does.