Blink Once (13 page)

Allie looked away, horrified. I knew Mike was embarrassing her.

“I’m going for a walk.” Mike shoved his chair back and, without saying anything to me, stormed out of the room with his head down.

“We haven’t forgotten how hard this has been on you guys,” Dad said, moving over to sit by Allie. “It’s hard for everybody, and I just really want to thank you for being here for West; it means the world to us.”

Allie looked down at the table, sniffling. Jesus, was she going to start crying too? What kind of shitty surprise was this anyhow? She put her head back up just as Mom walked in with a deli bag. Whatever was in it smelled delicious.

“Where’s Mike?” She looked to Dad, who shook his head slowly.

“He’ll be back,” Allie volunteered. “Here, let me help
you,” she said, and took the bag and sorted through the sandwiches, handing them out. I watched her move around the table, carefully placing napkins and sodas by each person’s place. I had been hanging out with Olivia for so long, I had forgotten how pink and bright Allie looked—her cheeks rosy from the cold, her curly blond hair glowing gold in the sunlight. She was gorgeous, there was no denying that, but Olivia had her own look too—a colder, darker kind of beautiful.

“So.” Mom unwrapped her sandwich and looked over at me. “We told Mike and Allie about your surgery and they just wanted to come and wish you luck, right, Allie?” I noticed that when she talked to me, she spoke a little bit louder.

“Yup.” Allie didn’t meet my eyes; instead she focused on opening her soda, then glanced at me quickly. “I know it’s going to go great, Mrs. Spencer, and … and then …” Allie paused and collected herself, I could tell she didn’t want to cry in front of my parents. “Well, it’ll be just like it was, everything will be … fine.” She unwrapped her sandwich and put it in front of her, but I knew she wouldn’t eat it.

Mike walked quickly back into the room and pulled out a chair, like nothing had happened. “Wow, thanks, Mrs. S, this looks awesome.” He chomped into his sandwich and ate about half of it in two bites. “So who’s in the room next to West? That kid’s mom looks like a model or something.”

“Please, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Allie said angrily. I could tell that she and Mike—who could barely stand each other when I was around to run interference—had not been getting along in my absence.

“I think it’s a young lady; I don’t know much about her,” Mom offered. “Actually, I think she said she was a dancer—or maybe her daughter was a ballerina.” Mom shook her head. “I can’t remember.”

“Is there a Mr. Ballerina in the picture?” Mike asked, his eyebrows going up and down a few times like a sleazebag.

“Seriously, Mike,” Allie huffed. “Some respect? Her daughter is in the hospital.”

Mike shrugged and bit into his sandwich, finishing it off. “I’m just curious about who’s spending time with my man West here,” Mike said, winking over at me. “That’s all.” He looked at Allie’s skeptical face and grinned, wiping his hands on a napkin. “Thanks again for the sandwich; tasty,” he said to my mom. “Next time I’m hanging with West, he’ll be eating one, too, right, buddy? No more eating through a tube for you.” Mike pushed back his chair and came over behind me. “Can I take him for a spin? Just down the hall, nothing crazy.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Mom said quickly.

“Let him, it’s just down the hall.” Dad sighed.

Mom shot him a look but said, “Okay, five minutes, Michael.”

Mike backed my wheelchair away from the table and rolled it slowly out the wide doorway. “Back in five,” he said over his shoulder.

The second we were out the door, he started walking—and pushing—faster. “Damn, I hope that chick didn’t leave already, you have
got
to see her.” He stopped outside Olivia’s door, peeking in. “Gonzo, let’s see if she went this way….” He raced down the hallway, pushing me way too fast toward the nurses’ station. The second we rounded the corner, he slowed way down. “Hello, ladies,” he called out to the nurses, who barely looked up. He rolled me over to the same double doors where he had come in.

“That’s her,” he whispered, leaning in close to my ear. Outside was a tall, thin woman in a dark coat, belted tightly around the waist. I noticed her legs first. Even though it was cold out, she had on fancy boots—black, with high heels. Then I saw her face. It was Olivia’s face. It could have been Olivia—only older, with shorter hair and dark lipstick, eye makeup. The way she brought a cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply, then blew the smoke out into the cold air, she looked like she was in a movie.

“Man alive, you didn’t tell me about this chick, keeping the good stuff to yourself. Does her daughter look anything like her?”

I blinked yes before I could stop myself. A mistake. I didn’t want Mike bugging Olivia, going into her room. I also
didn’t want Olivia to meet Mike, not yet, not until I’d had a chance to fill her in on what he was like. But then I realized something. Olivia wasn’t like Allie. She could totally handle Mike. She would eat Mike for lunch. The thought made me laugh.

“Did you just say something?” Mike came around the front of chair and looked into my face. “That was weird, it was like you said something.” Mike laughed but it sounded forced. “No, seriously.” He studied my eyes for a second and I blinked no.

Olivia’s mom had seen us watching her, and gave us one of those patronizing waves that you give to little kids. “Aw, busted. Way to go, wheelchair boy.” Mike smiled and gave her a little wave back.

“Good luck tapping that later,” Mike murmured, rolling me back to the TV room. “Actually.” He leaned down and spoke close to my ear as he walked me down the hall. “Once you’re out of this chair, I bet you can use this whole accident for a bunch of sympathy nookie. Or maybe that’s just what I would do.” We rounded the corner into the room and Mike put on a fake brightness. “Howdy, we are back from our adventure. I return with West, just as you saw him last, except now with a new tattoo.”

I noticed that Mom and Dad were sitting closer together now, and Allie was right next to them. What had they all been talking about when I was gone? The room had an
awkward feeling, like we had interrupted something. Maybe Allie was telling them that she dumped me.

“We should probably let this guy get his rest, but thanks so much for coming, you two.” Mom stood up and hugged Mike first, then Allie. Dad stood and cleared away the lunch stuff on the table. “I’ll call you tonight,” he said to Mom, pulling her in for a hug. It was still shocking for me to see my parents acting that way, like they still liked each other.

“Good to see you, West,” Allie said, finally looking at my face. She seemed to be searching for something, maybe a sign that I still cared about her.

“Next time, two legs instead of four wheels.” Mike kissed the top of my head hard and walked out the door beside Allie, without looking back.

“I’ll be here for the big day next week, bud.” Dad got down and looked into my face. “Stay healthy, okay?” He and Mom exchanged a wordless look as he walked out the door, and she sat back down.

“Your father flew in just for the day and then gave those two a ride up here.” She finished her soda and put the empty can on the table. “To be honest with you, of all your friends, I think Mike is taking this the hardest. That boy.” She shook her head slowly and looked out the window, staring at the same winter trees that I always looked at. “His mom told me he’s been having a terrible time at school—fights, detention, you name it.”

Detention wasn’t anything new for Mike, but fighting was. Who did he get into a fight with? And why? I felt like he wasn’t telling me anything real during our visits, just keeping everything light.

“Part of me thinks that maybe you help to keep him grounded; he really needs you as a friend.” Mom looked over at me and met my eyes. “Just one more reason to get better.”

As if I needed another reason.

I’m cold. I push my hands deep into my pockets, but my fingers are still numb. My toes are so cold, I can’t feel them anymore, and it’s getting dark. In the streetlight up ahead, I can see the snowflakes beginning to fall. I want to get home; I walk faster, with longer strides, watching my boots hit the sidewalk. But when I look up, it seems like I’ve gone the wrong way. Somehow, I’m downtown. I know this part of town, but it’s far from where I live. In the distance, headlights are coming down the street—a bus. The driver pulls to a stop, opens the door. “Getting on?” he asks. He’s a big guy; his thighs spill over the driver’s seat, and his meaty hand holds the wheel. That’s when I see Olivia. She’s sitting up front on the bus, looking down at me from the window. She’s so pale, so sad. I’m happy to see her, but she’s not
happy to see me. She locks eyes with me and shakes her head no, silently, slowly. Her mouth doesn’t move. The driver slams the door in my face and pulls away. For a second, I think that maybe that was Olivia’s mom in the bus. But no, I can see hair, long and dark, down her back as they pull away. I know that was her.

“Got a smoke?” someone asks me, and I turn to see a guy next to me. He’s older than I am, but I’m taller. He looks cold, in an old brown leather jacket, a ratty T-shirt, and dirty faded jeans. “Smoke?” he asks me again. I shake my head and he starts to walk away from me, but then stops, turns, and says, “I know you?” I realize, as the streetlight hits his face, that I do know him, and he knows me. I’ve seen him before. “Man, I just wish I had a smoke.” He pats the upper pocket of his jacket and that’s when I see the blood. On his hands, the tattoos on his knuckles. The wrists of his jacket. Some of it is splattered on his face. “You sure you don’t have a smoke?” He moves toward me again and then I hear something, a girl crying. It starts soft, but then it’s harder, sobbing, gasping for air. There’s someone on the ground, right by the bus stop, a girl lying on the ground, curled into a ball, crying. “You don’t need to worry about that,” the guy says, moving in front of her so I can’t see her. “Don’t worry about her; she’s a waste of time.”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Olivia said, wiping her eyes, then blowing her nose. “I was just going to check on you. Sometimes, when you’re asleep, I just come in here to make sure you’re okay. I did that when you were sick. I just wanted to … to know you were okay.” She grabbed another tissue and blew her nose loudly. I waited for her to make a joke, about stalking me in my sleep, about her unladylike nose honk, but it didn’t come. Her face looked so serious, so sad.

It was dark, and the room felt cold, like they turned down the heat. “I know your parents were here today,” she said, pulling her robe up around her knees and sniffling. “And I know Mike was here. And I know
she
was here.”

She stopped for a second and looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I just … my mom was here today and we didn’t have a great visit. She saw you, by the way.” Olivia smirked and caught my eye. “She said, ‘What is that handsome boy doing in a place like this?’” She put on a faux French accent that sounded pretty convincing. Olivia took a deep breath and turned her head away from me, and for second, I was reminded of her mother, smoking outside. The same mannerisms, the same measured beauty. “Let’s go for a walk?” She raised the back of my bed up until I was sitting, then dropped the leg rest. “I didn’t know the part about letting you sit like this for a couple of minutes before you got in the chair,” she explained. “I just learned that today.”

I wondered how much of the rest of my parents’ visit she had listened in on, how much she had heard, or seen.

“While you’re getting adjusted, I’ve got something for you. I’ll be right back.” She went through the divider and left me sitting by myself in the dark room. I could feel that my toes were cold, my feet were cold. That was a new sensation, something I hadn’t felt in a while, a little tingling.

She came back in a moment later, holding a manila file, like the kind they had at school. “Remember when we talked about this room, about your bad dreams—about how maybe the guy in here before had something to do with it?” She opened the folder and sorted through a few typed pages. “I have a picture of him. A couple of pictures. But I’m warning you, it’s not pretty. Do you want to see?” I blinked yes and she glanced down at the photo before reaching over to my bedside lamp and clicking it on. She held up the picture so I could see it.

It was hard to tell how old the guy was in the photo. Maybe twenty, maybe older. Or younger. What was left of his hair was blond. He looked like a something from a horror movie: bulging eyes staring out of a skeleton face. It took me a second to realize he couldn’t help the stare—his eyelids were gone. Part of his nose was missing, leaving a raw pink hole in the middle of his face. His lips were gone; just teeth were showing, the gums blackened. He had one ear, with a little patch of blond hair over it. On the other
side of his head was just a ball of red flesh where an ear used to be. I knew at once this wasn’t the guy from my dream. It wasn’t the dark-haired guy with the blood on his hands. But I couldn’t stop staring at the photo.

“Is it him?” Olivia asked. I pulled my eyes from the image and blinked no.