My annoyance towards the topic rises, and apparently, I’m feeling confrontational tonight because I ask Will the long awaited question. He was so fucked up that night, he barely understood a word I said, so I’m not even sure if he’ll remember.
“Why did you ask that question at the Kappa party? Even Zo seemed annoyed at the time.”
“I admit, it was a real dick move on my part, so I’m sorry about that, but you wouldn’t talk to Zo or me about her at all. I wanted to see if my very intelligent girlfriend was right about you two, and she was.”
The ever-so-nosey Zoey always seems to get involved somehow.
“Apology accepted. How are you two doing, by the way?”
“I told her I loved her, and she said it back; we’re thinking about moving in together next semester,” he says quickly and rolls his eyes. “You’re avoiding the subject.”
“Congratulations. I’m happy for you guys,” I say dryly.
I’m not telling him a thing. This should be something Kamila hears first, not Will.
He opens his mouth to speak, but Bernie interrupts us by bringing out the food. I avoid all eye contact.
Will takes a bite of his burger. “I guess I’ll get to the point then.”
“You’ve been spending too much time with Zoey. I feel like I’m talking to the male version of her,” I say indifferently.
“Are you in love with your ex's twin sister?”
His direct question catches me by surprise and at the worst time possible. Next thing I know, I’m barely able to breathe. A fry is lodged in my throat. A wheezing sound comes from somewhere inside of me when I try to communicate what’s happening, and the panic kicks in when I’m unable to form words.
Think Cameron, think. Before I attempt to do the Heimlich on myself with a chair or table, I hear Will’s voice.
“Holy shit, you’re actually choking.” He yells for help.
Somebody quickly pulls me out of my seat and hits me on the back three times. More wheezing. When nothing comes out, I feel arms wrapping around me and harsh movements around my diaphragm.
One.
Two.
Three.
Out pops the fry.
Gasping for air and grabbing ahold of the table, feeling too light-headed to move, a wave of nausea hits me.
“I called 911,” a female voice says.
Saliva gathers in my mouth and I barely make it to the garbage can before throwing up everything I’d just eaten.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m getting checked on by paramedics while refusing to go to the nearest hospital. There’s no bruising, pain, or signs of severe damage done around the area. I was lucky enough to get the Heimlich done by Bernadette, who is apparently very experienced with the maneuver.
Will waits near the ambulance while the EMTs do their final checkups.
“Oh my God, Cameron.” Zoey’s now bent over, touching my head, her curly hair is up in a bun, and she’s wearing workout clothes. “I ran here as fast as I could. Are you okay? Any broken ribs or signs of internal bleeding?” She turns to the paramedics while Will comes up behind her. “You’re taking him to the hospital, right?” The playful side of Zo disappears and her future med student voice makes an appearance for the first time since I’ve known her.
“He refuses to go to the emergency room, Miss.”
Zoey throws her arms up. “What if you’re injured, Cam?”
The paramedic, whose name I’ve unfortunately forgotten due to me zoning in and out, reassures Zo that there’s only minor swelling in my throat and that the maneuver was performed gently and safely.
I haven’t said a word since the incident to anyone except to answer the paramedics’ questions. There’s only one thing on my mind right now, and it isn’t the pain in my throat or the disgusting taste in my mouth. The devil on my shoulder isn’t here to give me advice on how to handle what I’m about to admit for the first time. In fact, he’s been quiet for a while now, and I believe I know why.
