Chasing Shadows (37 page)

He smiles. "They're keeping you comfortable I
see." I smile too. He looks a lot like Schuyler, very nice. "I came
to tell you," He pauses here. "To ask you, if you would consider
coming to our country house for your recuperation."

"I don't know." I whisper. "I think I'll be
Okay."

His eyebrow cocks and he looks just like
Schuyler when he does that. "Up and down three flights of stairs,
you'd fall and wind up right back here." He gestures, vaguely
indicating the hospital.

"Well," I guffaw. "You have
no
faith in
me."

Mr. Mills whips out another reassuring smile.
"I have so much faith in you, Miss Jones."

"Call me Meegan please."

"Meegan, please, come stay with us until you
get better. Mr. Abraham will take care of all your affairs in the
city. It's better for everyone, especially you."

I blink a few times. "Us?"

He nods. "Schuyler has agreed to come home to
keep you company."

"Why? I mean I know Schuyler would do it, but
why are
you
offering."

Mr. Mills looks uncomfortable for a moment,
which quickly translates into irritation. "Schuyler told me you
agreed that certain things need not be..."

"Ah, I get it." I mumble, interrupting him.
"Forgive my sluggish comprehension sir, it's the drugs." I whisper
the last three words dramatically.

Mr. Mills bristles. Maybe he doesn't like being
interrupted. "I just think it will be easier, Meegan, to limit any
unwanted access to you, until you're less vulnerable."

I suck in some air and close my eyes. "Okay,
Mr. Mills. Thank you for saving me."

"Of course, my dear." His voice is all honey
and smooth again.

"Hmmm." Ow. I hit my red button, and the next
time I open my eyes the elder Mills is gone.

Life has become a very, very slow disco. I'm
experiencing a strobe effect on heroin. Flash on: the room in
predawn dimness. There's Luck standing down by my feet. He's eating
something. I'm glad to see him. Flash off: sleep. Flash on: a trip
to the bathroom. My cooch hurts. Flash off: sleep. Flash on: the TV
is blaring. Schuyler's talking on the phone. Flash off: sleep.
Flash on: left handed breakfast. I manage the peaches and some
juice. Flash off: sleep.

Flash on: Schuyler is talking to me. "Meegan!
Meegan focus!"

I blink. "Trying, sugar."

He's handing me the phone. "Melody Smith needs
to talk to you."

I grab it, awe hell. "Hello."

"Meegan, sweetie!" Her voice is an air horn.
"Oh my God! Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"Well, sweetie, you've got your job back
whenever you're ready."

"Really." There's no emotion in my
voice.

"Yes, honey. Some coworker trying to get you in
trouble. Just like we thought."

"Who?"

"It's confidential, Meegan. You know I can't
say."

"Sorry, drugs."

"Oh, I can imagine. Broken in four places, poor
baby. I'm so glad you decided to consent to DNA on the Cameron
Murphy case."

"I did." I meant it as a question but it didn't
come out that way.

"I have a real good feeling about it. That
Kevin Godfrey is a looker too."

"Godfrey."

"Oh yes. The Geoffreys thing was a clerical
error honey."

"What?"

"Oh sweetheart, you're so doped up right now.
Let Mr. Abraham explain it later okay?"

"Okay?" I look at Schuyler. He bats his
eyelashes all innocent, and maybe he is. "Is your father a big,
fat, manipulator or what?"

Melody's voice rings with confusion. "What was
that, sweetie?"

"Nothing. Later, Mel."

"It's Melody dear."

"K bye." I hang up and hand Schuyler the
phone.

"What'd he do?"

I sigh. "Never mind. I'll just have to fix it
when I get better, which I suppose I'll be doing with you in the
country."

"What?!"

I blink. "That's what he said. You agreed to
come home and help keep me company while we... I'm going to
sleep."

"Fuck!"

His consternation makes me smile. As long as
I'm not the
only
one being played it's cool. Flash off:
sleep. Flash on: lunch tray and blood pressure. Flash off: sleep.
Flash on: bathroom, pain, push the button. Flash off:
sleep.

Flash on: Schuyler's voice. "Yeah. She's doped
up but you can come... Please. That'd be great... No. She never
told me... Really?" He laughs. "...They say only another day, since
we'll have a nurse at the house... Rockford... She'll be glad to
see you..." This pause is very long. "Okay, see you then." I open
my eyes. Ooo! The little dude is back. He's standing right by
Schuyler's feet and he's got clothes on. The clothes are odd, other
worldly, or maybe European. I laugh silently at the thought. I wave
at Luck. He shoots me a grin. Flash off: sleep.

Flash on: I open my eyes, and Qasim is standing
over me. He looks so good. His hair is tied back. He's wearing work
clothes. It's dim in here, dusk maybe?

"Hey." He whispers. His voice is horse. What's
that look on his face?

"Cheer up." I slur. "You look good."

He smiles ruefully. "I'm glad you're going to
be okay." I sigh and wince. Man, pain is boring. "I brought the
letters." He adds.

I nod slightly. "Thanks. Schuyler needed them
for something." I sound unsure of myself. I look around the room.
"Where is he anyway?"

Qasim looks down. "Went to get some food he
said."

"Ah... Sorry about missing our
date."

He laughs bitterly. "Me too." I smile dreamily
up at him, but then I remember that I have no idea how I look.
Maybe I'm smiling like a lunatic. Ooo! There's Luck. He's standing
right next to Qasim, and looking up at him with interest. Luck
reaches out a knobby hand and runs his fingers down Qasim's calf.
Qasim yelps and jumps about a foot. He looks nervously around the
room, and then he notices me staring at the little guy whom he
clearly cannot see.

"What is it?" Qasim squeaks. I look at his
face. He seems really freaked out.

I set my eyes to reassuring. "Don't worry." I
say sleepily. "I don't think he's going to hurt you."

Qasim shivers a bit and goes pale under the
fluorescents. "I should go." He mumbles. "You need to
sleep."

I exhale and look at the TV. Huh, Jerry
Springer. "Bye."

"Bye Meegan." Flash off: sleep.

Flash on: pain. I hit the button.

"There is no more." Schuyler says.

I look at him. "Why not?"

He shrugs and eyes me apologetically. "Doctor
thinks you were over doing it. You kept hitting it in your
sleep."

"Oh."

"Sorry." He points to the wheelie table that
they usually set the meal trays on. "Ashley came and left you a
letter. She said to tell you that she's really sorry about
everything, and she wants you to call her when you feel
better."

I groan. Ashley seems like an irrelevant
memory. "My side hurts."

Schuyler nods. "It's going to."

"Yeah."

He gestures to the table again. "Mr. Abraham
left some papers for you to sign. FMLA leave, permission for him to
act on your behalf, access your checking account to pay your bills,
that kind of thing."

I glance at the table and whine. "How can I
sign them left handed?"

Schuyler stands. "I've been thinking about
that. Your fingers still work. I can hold the documents up to your
hand." He circles the bed and gives me a pen. I curl my fingers
around it, and find that it doesn't hurt to do so. I can do this. I
smile. Schuyler leans the papers against his book, and helps me get
the job done, pointing out all the little exes so I don't miss
anything. I'm sure there's more here than is strictly necessary. I
mean how many signatures does it take to pay my phone
bill?

"What am I gonna do about my apartment?" I ask,
as he retrieves the pen.

"Don't worry. He's on it." Schuyler smiles.
It's such a nice smile. "You also just consented to have DNA tests
run at Mr. Abraham's discretion."

"Fuck!" My voice is harsh. "You would trick me
like that?"

Schuyler looks hurt. "You said it was
okay."

"No, Schuyler, I'm sure I did
not
say it
was okay! You don't know what it's like, watching those people get
their hopes crushed. Hand me that paper! I'm tearing it
up."

A weird and dark kind of look crosses
Schuyler's face. "No." He says quietly.

My eyes bug out. "No?" I feel heat rise to my
face. "What do you
mean
no?" Mother Fucker!

Schuyler's jaw goes stiff. I see a little vein
pop on his forehead. His voice is terribly quiet. "I mean no,
Meegan."

I'm furious. I lean up to reach for the papers
with my left hand. It hurts like a bitch. I stretch, and it makes
me moan involuntarily. Schuyler heartlessly slides the table out of
my reach. What? How could he
do
that?
Bitch
! Fuck
pain. Fuck him! I swing my legs over the side of the bed and jump
to my feet. And now I yell out pathetically. My hoo ha screams. It
feels like my ribs are trying to escape.

"Fuck." I'm crying and holding myself with my
left arm. I think I'm going to fall. Schuyler's face changes
instantly. He's at my side, gingerly supporting my weight, easing
me back onto the bed. I'm sobbing. "I want to hit you." I
whine.

"So hit me." He says tonelessly.

I press my lips together and look at his face,
trying to decide where to strike him. Miserable, manipulative, son
of a bitch. I'm grinding my teeth. I picture my fingernails raking
over his face, across his cheek, drawing blood. It looks good. Now
I picture the marks on him and I imagine the look in his eyes when
I do it. But I also imagine him in pain, and I imagine me knowing I
caused it... I envision trying to explain it to other people...
Trying to explain it to him. Fuck. I make a noise that's part sigh
and part growl. Tears run down my face soaking into the nose
dressing. I sniffle and it hurts a lot... What can I say? I grit my
teeth, and scoot myself back on the bed. Schuyler reaches out to
help me but I ignore him and swing my legs up all by myself. I sit
straight and fold my legs together Indian style. It's painful, but
it feels good too. Delicately I wipe my black eyes and stare out of
the window.

"Meegan." His voice is so low, soothing really.
I look at him but whatever he was going to say seems to die in his
throat. I'm still so mad. "We're leaving in the morning." Ah, he's
trying to be reasonable.

I want to say fuck you, or fuck off, or go fuck
yourself, but I'm just looking at his face. "You look tired." I
come out with at last.

He nods. "I am tired."

And now I feel like an asshole. "What can I do
for you?" I'm still angry, but its fading fast, maybe I'm
Irish.

He shakes his head. "Nothing. Don't get beat up
again."

I look away, and straighten my shoulders. It
kills but its better right this second than falling back into
pharmaceutical sleep. "Did I really say it was okay?"

He runs his hand over his face. "Yeah." But
he's not making eye contact, so I'm not sure I believe
him.

"That's not like me." I tell him.

He nods. "Mr. Abraham's coming to talk to you.
That reporter has been calling, and Mr. Abraham wants to go over
what you'll tell him."

"Nothing about Kelly. I already agreed to
that."

Schuyler looks at me funny. "I think you'll
like River Bend."

I take it the country house has a name. Rich
people are weird. "I've been considering reconsidering
it."

He's glowering at the floor now. "Because I
told you no."

Well,
that
makes me sound like a spoiled
brat. "Because I feel like I'm being manipulated."

Schuyler smiles and makes a helpless gesture.
It reminds me of my dream. "I don't know what to tell you." He
says. "All the arrangements are made. You're set to stay with us
through the New Year at least." He looks at me. "I know it's
different, but my family... they're not that bad, and my Dad's
grateful to you. If you don't let him help you now..." He shrugs.
"Of course you don't
have
to come, but you already said you
would."

I sigh. "Look, honey." I lift his chin with my
hand. "Let's stop this awkward, negative shit. I don't want to be
mad. There's enough going on without you and me getting all weird.
I'll go with the program." I shrug, which hurts like hell. "That's
what families are about right? Guilt, coercion, strings attached...
I've never had a family that I know about, but if you and yours are
intent on finding me one, then I guess I should get some practice
in right?"