Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (113 page)

Nowhere in sight. Well, Romeo didn’t blame him—he’d have fled

that scene too if he could. “Let him be,” Romeo said quickly, but

Donata shook her head.

“That’s his bag. I gave it to him two years ago.”

Romeo still had the bag on his shoulder. “I’m sorry—”

“Damn it, are you stupid too?”

“Don’t you—” Romeo’s mother began, but Donata cut him off.

“We have to find Julian,” she said. “Now. Mother, find the lounge.

Father, the chapel. Romeo—”

“I’m sure he’s just wandered off,” Mrs. Vocelli said. “Let me see

Nonna Maria, and then—”

“Damn it!” Donata swore. She waved a hand at the bag. “Mother,

he’s left his candy. He doesn’t eat when he’s upset and he’s wandering

alone in a strange place and he was already shaky—”

Romeo grabbed Donata’s arm. “He’s diabetic?”

“Thank God someone has a brain!” She dug in the bag and came

out with hard candy that she pocketed. “Get candy in him if you find

him. I’ll find the lounge; you look for the chapel.”

Romeo left while the adults were still protesting searching for a

grown man. He started at the admissions desk, but when he asked if a

tall young man, pale with curly hair, had asked for directions, the

nurse shook her head.

“No, just shuffled out the door.”

Romeo ran outside.

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The hospital was on a small side street that curved down to trees

in one direction, and met a major street the other. Julian was nowhere

in sight, and he could be anywhere…Romeo went for his car.

A ringing phone startled him until he realized he still had Julian’s

bag. He dug inside and answered the cell phone he found.

“Julian?”

“Donata, you idiot. He wouldn’t call his own phone. He’s not in

the lounge and I can’t find anyone who’s seen him.”

“He went outside. I’m going for my car.”

“I’m calling the police.” She hung up.

Coming out of the garage Romeo turned left. There were trees that

way, maybe the river since the street sloped down. He thought that

would appeal to Julian. He tried not to think about a confused and

clumsy sick man stumbling by a river because that made it hard to

drive.

There was a river, and a riverwalk. Romeo prayed and chose a

direction and prayed more. Went farther than he thought Julian could

have gone in maybe ten minutes, and turned to circle back and go the

other way. As he neared the larger street and signaled a right, he

glanced in his rear-view to check the bike lane and he saw a woman

on the sidewalk step sideways, twitching her skirt away from a

reaching hand.

A diabetic in trouble could easily be mistaken for a drunk. Romeo

jumped on his brakes and the guy behind him hit his horn. Romeo

shifted into reverse and cranked the wheel. His back end bounced onto

the sidewalk, the nose of the car out of traffic. Romeo left the car and

ran.

It was Julian. He sat slumped against a planter, curled up where

Romeo never would have spotted him. He was pale and confused and

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shaking and Romeo thanked God for the sight even as he sat on his

heels.

“Julian, hey.” He swallowed hard as Julian looked at him and for a

moment nothing registered. Then Julian blinked.

“Romeo?”

“Yeah. Here.” He held out a candy. Cursed and unwrapped it and

offered it again. “Eat this.”

“Romeo.”

“Yes. I’m here.” He took Julian’s hand and put the candy in it.

Finally Julian put it in his mouth. Romeo put another in his hand, then

pulled out the phone.

“I found him,” he told Donata when she answered. “Have a doctor

ready.” He took Julian’s hand and pulled. “Come on, Julian. Let’s get

you to the hospital.”

Donata Vocelli had urges like anyone, but she’d never been a

violent woman. That was going to change if her father muttered

“Conti” one more time, or if Romeo’s mother didn’t put the damned

rosary away since she was praying about sin and not safety, or if any

of them ever said “sodomites” again. Or if Donata happened to get her

hands around Julian’s neck…

“I’m sure he’s all right,” her mother said again and Donata added

that to her list. “He’s had it for years. He knows how—”

“He hates it and he never takes care of himself,” Donata

interrupted, shielding her eyes to scan the street again. She’d got them

all outside to watch for Romeo, but she was the only one looking and

she didn’t know what he drove. “He left art school because he had to

think about it all the time or land in emergency. As he did, three

times.”

Romeo’s father said something like “idiot.”

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“You want to talk idiots?” she demanded. “How about the man

who drives off a devoted and talented son for something that has

nothing to do with him?” It was all out, of course. Donata had

suspected after the way Romeo stared at Julian staring at his plate

through the entire meal that night, but in the arguing after she called

the police it had all come out, except for something very old between

her mother and Romeo’s mother that nearly had her cool, collected

mother ready to claw the other woman’s eyes out.

She hoped Nonna Maria lasted long enough that she could

wheedle that story out of her.

“I don’t understand,” her mother said again. “If he’s gay—”

“He’s not gay!” Romeo’s father snapped.

“She’s talking about Julian, not Romeo, and Romeo is too; he told

you himself!” Donata snapped. She wondered how many of them she

could bite before they restrained her.

“But he loves you!” her mother almost wailed.

“We’ve been brother and sister since we were little. He’s never

been in love with me.”

“Nonna Maria—”

“Nonna wanted to know he’d be taken care of,” Donata said. “She

didn’t want him to be left alone, and we’ve been family since you

hired her, and she’s an old woman with silly romantic notions.
I
knew

he didn’t love me like that, and
I
never planned on marrying him
or

leaving him alone, and
I
plan to marry a man who wants me

desperately, not someone three years younger and gay besides!”

“But—”

She’d guessed they’d come from the river; Donata had been sure

Julian would go that way no matter how confused he was. She saw

Romeo when he pulled his little red sports car—of course—into the

intersection and stopped, waiting for the light to change to make a left.

She saw him start his turn.

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She saw the tanker truck that didn’t stop.

Romeo didn’t. Distracted by Julian or the hospital so close or who

knew what, for one second too long he didn’t see the truck. Donata

knew when he did because he turned into it, throwing the little car

around to take the impact on the hood instead of Julian’s door. The

truck ran right up the hood and over the car.

The sound of the crash stopped her scream. Donata snatched the

doctor who’d been standing off to the side and dragged until he ran on

his own.

Someone tried to hold her back, but she used her self-defense knee

and got past him. The doctor was checking the truck, useless sod…she

threw herself to her knees by the Matchbox-sized car.

“Romeo? Julian!”

“Juliaaaannnn!”

Well, Romeo was alive. “Romeo! Is he conscious?”

“Juliaaaannnn!”

“Romeo Balducci, don’t make me crawl in there and slap you!”

Donata snapped. “Can you reach him?”

“Juliaaaannnn!”

The doctor appeared and tugged on the door handle. Naturally

since the car was squashed, it didn’t open.

“Dear God, I’m surrounded by idiots,” Donata grumbled, dialing

emergency again.

Romeo came to himself with his mother talking to him from far

away, begging him to calm down and not to move. Sirens wailed over

her voice and people shouted. Someone was crying. In a rush he knew

where he was and why and reaction set him shaking. A woman spoke

to him.

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“Romeo, I’m Zeta. I’m rescue personnel. We moved your mother

back for her safety. How are you doing?”

“I’m—oh God, Julian—”

“Don’t move him, Romeo. Tell me how you’re doing.”

Julian. Blessed Virgin—Julian lay half under him. Romeo forced

down the urge to shake him, reached gently instead though it made his

shoulder scream. Found Julian’s neck and a pulse and that let the panic

back off a little. He stopped his next instinct, which was to scramble

free of everything pressing on him and drag Julian from the wreckage.

“Julian’s alive.”

“Good. That’s good. How are you?”

“I’m…pinned. Can’t move.” He’d turned as he spun the car,

shoving Julian down, and now his chest lay across Julian’s back. He

couldn’t straighten; the roof of the car was there. Probably the bottom

of the truck as well.

“I don’t want you moving. You’re going to relax and let us take

you out, all right?”

“Sure. Relax. No problem.” He couldn’t see. Well, the engine light

was on; he wasn’t blind. He just couldn’t see—the car was smashed

down to the doors. No, there was light behind him, from the driver’s

window, but it didn’t show much.

“Is Julian conscious, Romeo?”

“I don’t think so.” The airbag had deployed and deflated out of the

way, but something held his leg too, and he couldn’t wriggle down out

of the seat or sideways so he could get off Julian and look at him.

Romeo stroked Julian’s face awkwardly. “He only got two pieces of

candy. Is that enough?” Blessed Virgin, was he even now slipping

farther—

“It will hold him, Romeo. You won’t believe how fast we’ll get

you out when we get started.”

“Start now! He’s—”

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“What…?” Julian said. “Romeo?”

“He’s awake! I’m here.” Romeo patted Julian’s shoulder or maybe

his upper arm. “We’re going to be okay. The firemen are here; they’ll

have us out soon.”

“Firefighters,” Zeta corrected. “You guys are doing great.”

“How…are we in your car?” Julian asked.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I don’t know how I didn’t see the truck!” But he

did. He’d had his eyes on the hospital, needing to already be there and

forgetting for one crucial instant that people would always be stupid

when you weren’t looking.

“My head…is in your lap.” Julian shifted, but he too had nowhere

to go. “Can you…get off me?”

“Don’t move, guys. Let us do that.”

“I’m sorry!” Romeo said. “I can’t move. They’ll get you out soon.

Are you all right?” Candy. He’d only given Julian two pieces. Was

that enough? Just because he was coherent now—Romeo tried to

remember where he’d put the bag when he put Julian in the car.

“Julian, how much candy should you have?”

“…shit. I flaked out on you, didn’t I?”

“It’s not your fault. I—”

“I walked away without my candy and I didn’t notice I was losing

it and you had to come find me, right?” Julian shifted again; Romeo

couldn’t tell what he was doing or trying to do. “And now we’re

trapped in a car and—oh.”

“What?”

“Romeo…oh, that’s a lot of blood.”

“Who’s bleeding, Julian?” Zeta asked.

“Where?” Romeo groped, touched Julian’s face and found no

wound, his hair and found no blood. “Where are you hurt?”

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“Your leg. Dear God, can’t you feel it? There’s a thing sticking

through your leg!”

“Be right back, guys.”

“I…don’t feel it. It’s just stuck.”

“Oh my God.” Julian thrashed, or tried. “Can’t get my shirt off.

Give me something to wrap it.”

“Zeta said don’t move!”

“Now, Romeo! Find something! Your shirt. My shirt. Do it!”

Romeo tried, but one wriggle and the pain hit and he clung to

Julian’s shoulder gasping. Blessed Virgin—

“Your tie! Give me your tie.”