My cheek was warm against Zeke’s chest when I woke. The presents were wrapped and shipped, the rest under the tree for Zeke and me. The snow tapped against the window, and the heater kicked on. The Christmas lights blinked all the way into the hall, on for a second, off for two, then on for two, off one.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” I whispered, gently squeezing his middle.

For a few minutes, everything was quiet. For a moment in time, I was in bed on Christmas morning with a man who loved me, it was snowing, and the hallway darkened and then lit up again from the blinking lights on the fir tree in the living room.

And then his phone rang.

Zeke didn’t move.

“Babe,” I said softly. “Your mom is calling you.”

Zeke stayed still. I nudged him. He still didn’t move.

“Zeke?” I said, trying not to panic as I shook him, then slapped him. Nothing.

He was pale, but warm. I lowered my ear to his nose. He was breathing. I held my fingers against his neck. His pulse was weak.

“Fuck! Zeke, wake up!” I grabbed my phone, dialing 9-1-1. The rest was a blur. She asked me questions, I answered, and then after what seemed like an eternity, we were in an ambulance, racing toward the hospital.

I walked with him into the ER, the walls, doors, and desks decorated in red and green. It only made me feel worse that we should be sitting next to the tree trading gifts instead of in the hospital. The paramedics wheeled Zeke straight back. No one asked me who I was or told me I couldn’t stay with him, so I followed them into an empty room.

Two nurses immediately went into action.

“I’m Steph,” a nurse with Christmas print scrubs said, removing her stethoscope from around her neck. She took his vitals while another nurse, her name badge reading Candy, started an IV. They worked quickly, calling Zeke’s name every few minutes, trying to calmly coax him awake.

Once Steph was finished with Zeke’s stats, she placed small round adhesive patches to his chest, then buttoned wires to him.

“Leads on,” Steph said.

“What’s your relationship to the patient?” Candy asked.

“Girlfriend,” I said, staring at Zeke. Every minute that he didn’t open his eyes just worried me more.

“Is Zeke on any prescription or non-prescription drugs? Was he drinking heavily last night? Any history of drug or alcohol abuse?” Steph asked.

I shook my head no.

Another nurse walked in, this one was short and squat. “Merry Christmas,” she said. “I’m Susan. What do we have here?”

“Girlfriend found him unresponsive half an hour ago. She says no history of drug abuse,” Steph said quickly, still working.

“I didn’t find him like this,” I said. “We were still in bed. I tried to wake him. He wouldn’t wake up,” I said.