Betty Bumped into a Friend in London Chapter 3: Rain-check on the Rum Toddy

"Oh, lordy!" exclaimed Marg, eyes widening as she stepped around the front of the bus and saw the scene before her. The bus's headlights and the dim lamplights illuminated the rain-soaked street, the wind-blown rain reflecting the lights and tapping on the cobblestones.

Turning back to her daughter, she said, "Tell the driver to call for two ambulances. And Sam, get the umbrellas."

Betty and Gio, coatless and soaking wet, lay sprawled on the road, motionless.

Arms flung out, Gio lay on his back in a shallow puddle, directly in front of the bus. His eyes closed, he looked like he was asleep.

Face down, Betty lay groaning, a few feet beyond Gio, on the edge of the curb, her black hair spread out over her.

Dropping the emergency medical kit, Marg fell to her knees beside Gio, putting her fingertips under his jaw, checking for his pulse.

Samantha knelt beside Marg struggling to hold the umbrella, trying to keep it from blowing away or turning inside out in the gusts.

"Where are their coats?" cried Marg to Samantha. "What were they doing standing in the middle of the road? Are they crazy? Good, his pulse is okay."

Trying to keep the rain off of Gio's face, Samantha fought to hold the umbrella steady.

Marg slipped one hand under the back of Gio's neck to steady his head and poked a finger in his mouth, checking to make sure his airway was clear. The back of his head was sticky from blood.

"Better give up on the umbrella, Sam. Get me a wipe from the kit. Get out some scissors while you're in there."

Samantha laid the scissors beside Marg and handed her a tissue. While Marg wiped the blood off her fingers, Betty pushed up onto her hands and knees and vainly looked around her for her glasses.

"Gio?" said Betty, turning and seeing him laying still. Betty's heart sank. "Gio! Gio! Are you okay?!"

Marg hid the bloody tissue under Gio's shoulder so Betty wouldn't see it.

"His pulse and respiration are fine," said Marg. "Now don't move, dearie. An ambulance is coming for you."

"I'm fine," said Betty, crawling towards Gio, pushing her wet hair out of her face.

"You had a bad fall," said Marg. "That's a nasty bruise coming up on your face."

Dazed, hand on her cheek, Betty sat on the wet road beside Gio, rubbing the painful bruise.

"No. This happened before," said Betty. She looked down at Gio, puzzled by his violent behavior. His face looked so peaceful now; all traces of rage and desperation had vanished.

"Did he hit you?" asked Marg, observing Betty's glance at Gio and her pallid face. "Sam, put your coat on her. She looks like she's going into shock."

"Gio, wake up!" cried Betty, grabbing Gio's hand and squeezing it.

"The police will be questioning you," said Marg. "They'll want to know what happened. Did he do that to you?"

Betty nodded. "But he couldn't help it. It was my fault."

"Sam," said Marg, "do you hear that?"

Wrapping her coat around Betty's shoulders, Samantha said, "What?"

"Typical behavior," said Marg. "Victims of abuse. They always blame themselves."

"No," said Betty. "It wasn't like that! It was … I made him do it."

Sending Marg an admiring glance, Samantha rubbed Betty's back to warm her.

Betty's voice trailed off. She didn't know how to explain what happened because she didn't understand it herself. Did Gio just jump in front of a bus to save her? What was she thinking by standing in the road? She almost got them both killed!

Marg picked up the shears and in a few seconds had sliced off Gio's t-shirt, the tattered pieces of dark cotton blowing and scattering in the wind as they came free.

"Sam," said Marg, "if you ever come home with a cock-and-bull story like that, I swear to god, I will hunt down the brute and tear him limb from limb."

Marg put down the shears and pulled the rest of Gio's t-shirt away exposing his flawless torso, as white and cold as marble. She deftly slid her hands over Gio's chest and abdomen, exploring his body, skillfully probing for hidden injuries.

"You don't understand," said Betty. "He loves me."

"Dearie, what you need is counseling and a restraining order."

"No. I was chasing him. I came here to talk to him. I have to talk to him." She didn't want him to hate himself anymore. She couldn't bear to see him in such pain.

"Well, he's a looker, I'll grant you that, but nothing makes up for violent behavior."

"He's not violent. It isn't him."

Even when she broke his heart, he'd been gracious and forgiving. At her request he promised he'd stay her friend. But her despicable neglect of him after that, had wrought untold damage. She had to face the fact that she had not been a good friend to Gio. She hadn't been any kind of friend at all. And even so, after all this time, he still cared very deeply about her.

Marg palpated Gio's ribs, stomach, liver, and kidneys. "I don't detect any internal bleeding or injuries. What's with the no coats? What was going on here?"

"Uh, …" Betty looked at the bridge railing. "He was going to, uh …"

"Jump?"

"Yes."

"And why would a young bloke, in the prime of life, want to do that?"

"To save my life," whispered Betty. How could he hate her so much and yet be willing to take such a drastic measure to protect her? "He said he had to do it to save me."

"He came here to jump but instead he gets hit by a bus!" exclaimed Marg. "This story gets weirder and weirder."

"I was trying to save his life."

"You're not making much sense, dearie," said Marg. "Soon they'll take you in for a check up and questioning. Is there anyone who can go with you? You shouldn't be alone."

"No," said Betty. "He's the only person I know in London."

Marg slid her hands up and down one leg and then the other. "Everything feels good down there. Nothing unusual. Although, his shoe size seems curiously large for his height."

The sound of a siren, blaring in the distance, became audible over the wind and rain.

"Here they come," said Marg. "It's about time. Are you staying with him?"

"No. I'm staying at a hotel. I'm supposed to fly back to New York tomorrow."

"The doctor may want you to reschedule your flight."

"Is he going to be okay?" asked Betty, shivering. Samantha pulled her coat tight around Betty's shoulders and hugged her.

"He's going to the best hospital in London and they'll do everything they can," said Marg. "For a concussion the first twenty-four to forty-eight hours are the most critical."

"Gio," said Betty, shaking his arm. "Wake up!"

"Does he have any conditions we should know about?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"Does he have any drug allergies?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't know."

Marg reached into Gio's pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it and riffling through it. A pair of theater tickets fell out and Betty grabbed them before they blew away. After failing to find any medical alerts, Marg slipped Gio's wallet back into his pocket.

Betty could read the tickets' lettering without her glasses. She was holding two tickets to a nine o'clock performance, for that night, of 'Romeo and Juliet'. She would have loved to see that play. Gio knew she would have loved to see it. He chose these tickets for her.

If only she hadn't been too late to meet him in Trafalgar square. What a different evening it would have been! They would have enjoyed a leisurely dinner before the show, a superb dinner, no doubt, since Gio wouldn't have settled for anything less, and then they'd have watched the magnificent play together, whispering clever comments into each other ears.

Gio might have put his arm around her and this time she wouldn't have pushed it away. No, this time, she would have laid her head on his shoulder. It would have been a thrilling performance, and afterwards they would have drunk beer at a cozy pub and talked about it.

They would have talked about everything and nothing. They would have certainly reminisced about her twenty-fourth birthday and the carriage ride he took her on, and laughed again over her alternate ending to the play, the one where the doomed lovers lived long and happy lives together in a cottage outside of Verona. And she would have smiled and giggled and flirted with him until he couldn't help but kiss her, and this time, she wouldn't have pushed him away.

Oh! And then, after all the talking and the laughing and the kissing, maybe he would have invited her back to his place. And maybe, no, surely, after such a wonderful evening on the last night of her trip, she would've gone with him.

"What have I done?" said Betty. "What have I done to you?" She gazed down at Gio's expressionless face, serene in repose. He looked as beautiful as an angel. He looked like the Gio she remembered. Who was he now?

His rage and despair shocked her. What was she supposed to have done when she realized she wanted to see him again after he'd moved thousands of miles away to avoid seeing her? All this time, she had thought the only person she was hurting by not calling him was herself.

Betty shook her head and sighed. Were they doomed lovers? How could they be doomed already, before they were even lovers?

When the paramedics arrived, Samantha pulled Betty away from Gio to give them room to work.

Glistening from the rain, Gio lay on the stretcher, his legs covered by clinging soaked pants, his muscular body naked and pale, and his tranquil face dreadfully still.

"Gio," cried Betty, giving his hand a final squeeze. "I'm not leaving till you get better!"

"We need a neck brace here," said Marg, and a paramedic handed her one. They laid a stretcher on the street beside Gio.

Marg slipped the collar around Gio's neck and snapped it shut. "Pulse, okay. Respiration, okay. He's got a head injury. I didn't find anything else. I couldn't find out any history."

The paramedics and Marg grasped Gio and eased him onto the stretcher. As soon as Marg had secured him the paramedics whisked him away.

Gio gone, the blood-streaked tissue and the ragged remnants of his t-shirt swirled around in the wind. Betty gasped and stared in horror at the dark stain on the ground where his head had been.

The bus driver came up behind them and squatted down beside Marg. "Thank you. We've collected up all their stuff and put it over there."

"Good," said Marg. "What happened?"

"The two of them were just there in the middle of the road," said the driver. "Before I could react, the fellow pushed her out of the way. I didn't think I hit her."

"Maybe not. But she should go in and be checked out anyway."

"This never happened to me before," said the driver, his hands shaking. "I don't know how it happened."

The sound of Gio's ambulance grew fainter and the wailing siren of the second ambulance, approaching quickly, soon drowned it out.

"It was an accident," said Marg, patting his arm. "You did everything you could."

"Dearie," said Marg to Betty, "do you want me to stay with you? I've got tomorrow off."

Betty nodded.

"Ma, you're not too tired?" asked Samantha, picking up Betty's coat and her glasses.

"Sam, it's amazing what a little adrenaline will do for an old body. Too bad, I'll have to take a rain-check on that rum toddy."

Samantha dried off Betty's glasses and put them on her, then she draped Betty's coat over her shoulders and pushed her arms into its sleeves.

"After you walk the pugs," said Marg, "will you make up the spare bed? After they release her, this poor girl is going to need someone to look after her."