Broken Roots

5 What To Do

TW: overdose, CPR, death

Brooke

Monday evenings at Ida’s are, what I’m learning, the most boring time of the week. I got here at 12, and have only had a couple people come in over the past few hours. Todd is in the back doing inventory, but has come out a few times to alleviate the monotony. I’ve cleaned, stocked, and organized everything in sight out here, so I’m sitting behind the counter scrolling on Tiktok. I straighten up when I hear the door chiming, but relax slightly when I see that it’s Endo. I slip my phone back under the counter and stand, greeting him with a smile and a ‘hello.’

“Howdy, ma’am.” He replies in an exaggerated accent, walking over to his usual booth. I can’t help but chuckle a little at that.

“Do you need a minute?” I ask, though I don’t know why I bother.

“Nah. Just the special and a tea.”

“Alright. I’ll be right back, just have to let Todd know there’s an order.” I fish out my pen and pad from my apron and jot down his order, then step into the back. “Todd? We’ve got a live one!”

“Let’s see, 4:30 on a weekday? Endo?” He asks from behind a mound of boxes.

I laugh. “You’re psychic.”

He steps over to the grill and grabs the order from me. “Give me just a few.”

I come back to the front just as the door opens again. A thin man in baggy clothes comes in and sits in the corner booth next to the door. I walk over to him and smile. “Hello there. What can I get for you this evening?”

He fidgets with the hems of his sleeves, and then finally answers, “A coffee. Black. Maybe an order of fries?”

This guy looks like he’s definitely seen better days. Still yet, I treat him like I would anyone else. “You got it.” I dash behind the counter and pour him a cup of coffee. “It’ll be just a few minutes on the fries.”

“Thanks.” I return to my spot behind the counter. I think about starting up a conversation with Endo, but don’t think of anything to say. Plus it might seem rude to the other customer.

As I’m debating this, I see Endo watching the other man with a strange look on his face. I glance over, and he’s just sitting there sipping his coffee, not doing anything strange. Maybe I’m missing something, or maybe Endo is being a little…shallow in his thinking. But I don’t want to assume anything about either man, so I kick it from my thoughts.

I’m doodling on my notepad when I hear a clattering. I look up and see the other man’s coffee cup roll off the table. He himself is slumped over with his head hanging down. I jump into action, running over to him. “Sir? Are you okay?”

Endo has jumped out of his seat as well, but is standing still. “I saw him take something a minute ago.” He says, voice shaking.

My mind goes into overdrive, and instinct takes over. As I’m checking the man for a pulse, I look up at Endo. “Go get my bag from under the register.” I look back at the man, and start to pull him out of the booth and onto the floor, but quickly notice Endo hasn’t moved. “Endo! Snap out of it! Go!” He shakes his head and then sprints behind the counter. I start doing chest compressions on the man. When I glance up at Endo holding my bag, I say, “There’s a pink and white box, bring it to me.” Then I yell, “Todd! Come quick!” When he pops his head out the door, I say, “Call 911. Tell them there’s an overdose, that he’s pulseless and I’m doing cpr and preparing to administer Narcan.”

Endo reaches the box toward me with trembling hands. “Endo, you’re okay. Open that for me and hand me the cartridge.” He does as I say. “Thank you, you’re doing great.” I assure him, stopping compressions to tilt the man’s head back and administer the nasal spray. Nothing happens at first, so I resume compressions. After a few seconds, I check his pulse again and the man is taking shallow breaths. I sigh deeply, close my eyes, and lean back, away from him for a moment. I look up and see that Todd is still on the phone with the operator. “Tell them his pulse is back but thready.”