“No.” She shrugs. “Maybe a little bit. Can you google passing out for me?”
I start to google. “Should we just call an ambulance?”
“Maybe.” She looks between me and the road; she calls him back.
“Hello,” he says in a meek voice.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Should I call an ambulance?”
“No,” he snaps. “Just get here.”
Five minutes later we pull up behind his parked car, and we can see him slumped in the front seat. We both get out to run up to the car.
“Thank God you’re here,” he splutters when he sees her. Then he sees me, and his face falls.
“It’s all right. This is Emily,” she says. “What happened?”
He points at her and me. “Do not tell a soul.”
“What?”
He gets out of the car, and we both look down. He has a huge erection.
“What the fuck?” Molly gasps.
“I have a Tinder date tonight, so I took a Viagra, but it didn’t seem to work, so I took another two.”
I put my hands over my mouth in horror.
Molly’s eyes widen. “You took three Viagra?”
He nods, his erection nearly splitting his pants.
“You are the stupidest fucking man I’ve ever known.”
“Without a doubt.” He winces. He goes to move and then gets dizzy and has to hold on to the car for balance.
“Get in the car,” she demands. “I’m taking you to the ER.”
“What?” he stammers. “No.”
“You have no blood left in your body, you stupid fuck!” she cries.
He puts his head into his hands, and I want to burst out laughing so hard. I bite my lip to stop myself as I look between the two of them.
“What’s the ER going to do?” he cries.
“Other than laugh at the middle-aged man with a Tinder erection, nothing. Get in the damn car.”
He goes to walk and then falls to the ground, and we both run to pick him up and put him in the front of Molly’s car. I climb in the back.
Molly’s eyes flick to him as he lies back on the seat in pain, and I stay silent, unsure what to say. I’ll catch a cab home from the ER. I don’t want to be in the way.
Molly shakes her head as she drives. “So . . . let me get this straight, Michael. You’re going out with Madam Whorebag tonight, and you go to all this trouble to satisfy whoever she is in bed?”
He looks over at her and clenches his jaw as if he knows what’s coming next.
“You couldn’t even be bothered to have sex with me at all, Michael!” she screams. “How the hell do you think that makes me feel?”
“Because you didn’t fucking like it,” he fires back.
“Because I got two fucking pumps.”
My eyes widen. Oh jeez. I so don’t want to be here right now. I slump into my seat to try to hide.
“Why do you think I have to take this shit? Huh?” he yells. “Because I knew what a fucking disappointment I was to you.”
Molly’s eyes widen in rage. “You were never a disappointment. You were fucking lazy and didn’t care.”
“I did so care!” he screams. “Losing you is the biggest regret of my life.”
I put my head into my hands. I wonder if they would notice if I dived out of the moving car.
Molly glares at him, and the car coasts to one side of the highway. I wince. “Eyes on the road, Moll,” I whisper. She straightens the car.
“So why didn’t you call her to come and get you tonight, huh?”
“Because I wouldn’t tell her anything about me.” He sighs as he leans his head onto his hand, clearly upset.
“Why not?” she yells.
“Because she’s not you!”
The car falls silent, and my eyes fill with tears. He still loves her.
Oh . . . this is so sad.
Moments later we pull into the hospital and help him out of the car and into the reception room, and Molly goes up to the desk. “My husband needs to see somebody, please.”
“What’s the problem?” the nurse asks.
She drops her shoulders as she steels herself to say it out loud. “I accidentally gave him too much Viagra.”
Michael takes her hand in a silent thank-you, and I smile softly.
She’s covering for him to save him the embarrassment.
“Oh.” The nurse’s face falls, and she gets a wheelchair. With Molly walking beside him, he is wheeled down the corridor.