Tracee was on hour number twenty. Twenty straight hours of no sleep, no food, and very little information.
The first two hours, Tracee hadn't even seen Ritz. She wasn't allowed in because she wasn't next of kin, but she called Ritz's aunt and uncle and waited for them to drive up from Virginia. Chas was with her for a bit, but he disappeared. Then there was the detective— homicide detective— who scared the shit out of her, having her think Ritz was dead. He was, however, one of the few bright spots in her evening, because he came back to the hospital and stayed with her and comforted her. At least he was trying to get to the bottom of this mystery.
No one knew anything, and if they did, they weren't telling Tracee anything about Ritz's progress or condition. It was frustrating.
When Madalyn and Cecil arrived, Tracee immediately noticed how haggard Aunt Madalyn looked. She gave them both a huge hug and they sat down in the waiting area, hoping a doctor would come by.
“How was your trip?” asked Tracee, straining to make small talk to keep her mind and theirs, too, off the serious issues before them.
“Oh, it wasn't too bad,” said Cecil. “There wasn't much traffic. We made it in just six hours, which is pretty good.”
Aside from Madalyn's appearance, another strange thing that Tracee noticed was the silence. Ritz's Aunt Madalyn was known for having the gift of gab. She could talk twenty-four/seven about any- and everything, but she hadn't said more than two words since she arrived. At first Tracee thought that Aunt Madalyn was taking the shooting really hard. But there seemed to be something else.
“Are you okay, Aunt Madalyn? What's the matter?”
“Oh, nothing, baby. Nothing for you to worry about,” Madalyn said, seeing the lines of concern etching their way across Tracee's brow.
“I'm going to go find a doctor, but I think you guys need to go someplace and rest. Ritz is going to need your strength,” Tracee said. “You're more than welcome to stay at my loft. I have plenty of room and I would love to have you. It may be a bit dusty, though. I haven't been there in a while.”
“Oh, we're just going to check into a hotel around the corner,” Uncle Cecil said. “No need to put you out.”
“You two could never put me out. I would be honored if you stayed with me. Really. I'd love the company.”
“You're so sweet, Tracee, but I want to be close to Ritz in case she needs us. I want to be minutes away,” Madalyn said.
The truth was that Madalyn didn't want Tracee to see her morning treatments and the sickness that followed. There was enough going on, and Madalyn wanted to make sure that everyone focused their attention and energy on Ritz, and Ritz only.
Tracee found a doctor and the three of them tried to see Ritz through a glass, but they really couldn't see anything behind all the machines and curtains. Dr. Paul Grevious didn't want anyone in the room. Not until she was out of the woods. It was too risky. Since they weren't able to spend any time with Ritz, Aunt Madalyn and Uncle Cecil decided to make their way around the corner and check into a hotel. Against their wishes, Tracee accompanied them to the hotel and insisted on putting the room on her credit card. She made sure they were comfortable and told them that she'd check on them later.
“Please get some rest, you two,” Tracee said. “I love you.”
“We love you, too,” Aunt Madalyn said. The three exchanged hugs and Tracee headed back to the hospital.
Tracee was determined to get in and really see Ritz. She needed to see for herself what was up. Tracee staked out Ritz's room and waited for the nurses' shifts to change. When a nurse finally left her post, Tracee saw her chance and took it. She slipped into Ritz's room.
What Tracee saw made her instantly burst into tears. Ritz was totally unrecognizable.
Her entire face was swollen. She looked like Mitch “Blood” Green after Mike Tyson busted his ass one night out- side of Dapper Dan's clothing store in Harlem. She had tubes going in and out of what seemed like every orifice of her body. One of her eyes was swollen to three times its normal size and there was purple all around it. She was on a breathing pump and all kinds of gadgets monitored her heart and blood pressure. Ritz didn't just look bad, she looked dead, and that was what had Tracee spooked.
She let out a wail, and a moment later, a nurse came scurrying into the room.
“What are you doing in here?!” the nurse said in an angry voice.
“That's my best friend. Is she going to make it?” Tracee said through uncontrollable sobs. “She looks so bad. She looks so bad.”
“Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Please come this way.”
The nurse grabbed Tracee by the arm. Tracee pulled away and got closer to Ritz's bedside. She just wanted to touch her to see if she was alive. Tracee grabbed Ritz's hand.
“Please, God, spare her life,” Tracee cried out. “Please, God, pleeeeeeeease!”
As the nurse was trying to pull Tracee away, Ritz's heart monitor began to quicken its pace.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
The nurse became a little more physical, pushing Tracee from the room, and then doctors and orderlies and nurses came rushing in with all kinds of equipment and trays and needles.
“Oh God, no! No! No!” Tracee screamed.