The Black Stiletto: Stars & Stripes Read Free Page B

him. It was then I could see this was more serious than gas pains. Freddie was wincing and couldn’t respond.
    â€œFreddie?”
    Then his expression changed for the worse. His eyes popped open and he gasped for air. One hand clutched the edge of the table as he tried to stand. He didn’t get very far. I put down my juice and rushed to him—just in time to catch him as he toppled into my arms.
    â€œFreddie!”
    I gently laid him on the kitchen floor. He writhed in agony and was short of breath. When he attempted to speak, he merely made choking noises.
    â€œI’m calling an ambulance!” I didn’t want to leave him, but I had to. The phone was on the other side of the kitchen. I darted to it and dialed the operator. It seemed like it took forever to get connected to the right place, but I finally blurted out where they should come. After I hung up, I moved back to Freddie. He was breathing a little better, but his eyes were wet and there was absolutely no color to his skin. The immediate distress seemed to be passing, though.
    â€œTry to relax, Freddie, an ambulance is on the way,” I told him.
    All the time we waited, I prayed I wouldn’t lose him. Not Fred-die—my substitute father, my trainer, my friend. I even cried a little, but I was careful not to let him see. I kept thinking about everything they were saying on the news about smoking cigarettes and how bad they can be. Freddie smoked a ton a day. Could that be the cause?
    Well, dear diary, the ambulance arrived about twenty minutes later, which seemed like an eternity. I went downstairs to the frontof the gym to let them in. The fellows rushed upstairs with one of those stretchers on wheels. One of the guys asked me to wait in the other room, but I wouldn’t leave. They checked Freddie’s vitals and asked him a few questions, which he was surprisingly able to answer. Eventually they got him on the stretcher and carried him down and outside. I insisted on going with them in the ambulance. I threw on a pair of training pants and a sweatshirt, tennis shoes, and grabbed my purse. I looked like I’d just rolled out of bed—which was true— but it was no time for vanity.
    When we got to the hospital, they wheeled him right into the emergency area. A nurse asked me if I was a relative. I explained that I was the only family Freddie had, even though we weren’t related. She handed me a clipboard and ordered me to fill out some papers. I answered the questions I could and gave it back. And then I waited. And waited. And waited.
    At one point I went to the pay phone and called Lucy. No one answered. She and Peter must have gone out to do something fun on New Year’s Day. It was cold outside, but the weather was clear. I just wanted to speak to somebody. I didn’t have anyone else’s phone number with me or I would have called Jimmy or one of the other gym regulars.
    I was there four hours before the doctor came out to talk to me. By then it was around ten o’clock. Dr. Montgomery was very young. I thought he looked like he was just out of medical school.
    Sure enough, it was a heart attack. Dr. Montgomery said Freddie would have to stay in the hospital for a while, probably a few weeks! But he was stable and they’d given him drugs and stuff to make him comfortable. I asked if I could see him, but the doctor replied that Freddie was sleeping now. Dr. Montgomery suggested I go home and get some rest, too, and I’d most likely get to see the patient tomorrow.
    So now I’m back at the apartment. I hadn’t eaten all day. I feel pretty lousy. I’m going to make some eggs and then go to bed. I guess I’ll have to close the gym in the morning.
    Please, God, if you’re really up there, please make Freddie better. Please, please, please!
    J ANUARY 2, 1960
    It’s been a long day.
    I put a sign on the gym door saying we were closed “due to illness.” Then I took