Not After Everything (21 page)

“Speaking of vibrating.” I pull out my phone expecting to see another text from Coach congratulating me.

And that's all it takes to kill the mood. I've almost reached the hall by the time Jordyn even realizes I'm gone. She runs to catch me, grabbing my arm. I shake her off and push a few people out of my way. I'm trying to move fast, but I'm going against the sea of students. Jordyn manages to get out in front of me in the hallway and I end up pushing her and two other kids into the wall. Her face drops and I feel like a total asshole, but I'm too pissed to stop.

I'm halfway home without even seeing the road. I'm speeding and plowing through stop signs and all I see is my dad's stupid fucking face.

I throw the front door open. It hits the wall and bounces back hard enough to slam shut. I'm down the stairs in one swift step and there it is, my door busted open, the frame and some of the drywall completely destroyed. The crowbar and sledgehammer he used to break it down are staring up at me from the floor. So much for impenetrable. I stalk down into my room and see Dad kicking at the paneling. He's dangerously close to finding my hiding place.

I grab him by the shoulders and spin him around. “What the fuck are you looking for?” I scream into his face.

“You have no goddamn right to lock your door. This is my house!” He shoves me as hard as he can, catching me off balance. I stumble over a drawer that's been thrown to the floor. The bottom is no longer attached. The second I hit the ground, I feel a sharp pain in my side. Then another. The third time he hauls back to kick, I grab his foot and pull it out from under him. He falls but lands mostly on the bed. It gives me enough time to get up and get in his face. He wears an expression of pure unadulterated murder in his eyes. I'm pretty sure mine is the same.

“You can't keep me out of part of my own goddamn house. You don't pay the bills, I do!” He's right up in my face, so close he spits on me with each word.

“I am not required by law to pay rent in my own parent's house!” I'm concentrating very hard on keeping my hands at my sides. If I lose any of the control I still have, I will kill him. I'm sure of it.

“That gives you no goddamn right to hide shit from me! I know you have it!”

“What? What do I fucking have, Dad?”

“Her letter!” He swings wide and I'm easily able to maneuver out of the way of his fist.

That's what this is about? That's what he's been looking for?

“There is no letter, Dad. Don't you get it? She didn't leave us any goddamn explanation.”

He stares at me, taking in my words. Then he shakes his head. “You shut the fuck up.”

I almost feel sorry for him. “It's fucked up, but that's what she did. And we have to stop blaming each other and move on with—”

He uses his fists to shut me up. The first lands across the side of my head. The second hits me square in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. It takes a second to catch my breath, and in that time he's landed another punch to my jaw. The sour, metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. It makes me think of Brett and the homecoming game. And that makes me think of all the times I hid away at football, hiding from what was going on here. I should have been there for her. I should have stopped him from slowly killing her will to live. I feel an eerie calmness come over me. I deserve this.

He lands another punch to my stomach. I double over. I feel the crack of his knee meeting my face and black spots appear in front of my eyes. But it doesn't hurt, it feels right. I deserve this. I steady myself, my hand to the wall, and wait for the next blow. The room fades in and out of focus. So does Dad. I reach out to grab hold of his shoulder for balance, but he's farther away than I expect and I start falling forward, but I'm turned upright as his arm pins me to the wall by my throat. I struggle to breathe, clawing at his forearm.

The black spots appear again in front of my eyes, but this time they grow bigger and bigger, fighting to overtake me until finally he releases his hold and I fall forward again. I reach out to catch myself on the bed, thinking he's done, but he lands another fist in my rib cage. And another. And another, then he rolls me over so I'm face-up on the bed. I feel the pressure of my face being hit and hit and hit but I no longer feel any pain. I can't see at all, but each time his fist meets my flesh, I hear the loud, satisfying sound of penance.

He shouts, “Fight back, you fucking pussy!” It sounds like it's echoing from somewhere down a long empty hallway.

He yells it again. And again. And each time it's farther away. I hear screaming and something that sounds like orders being shouted, and there's a high-pitched noise that slowly fades into complete silence.

The high-pitched noise has returned, but this time it's in a steady, rhythmic
beep beep beep
. I struggle to open my eyes. The small sliver of light is like a blade and I groan and squeeze them shut again. This causes even more pain.

“Tyler? Tyler?” I hear Jordyn's voice, but it's like I'm underwater.

I reach my hand out to find her—a sharp pain in my left side stops me. Then her hand is in mine and I squeeze it. I try to open my eyes again. The left one doesn't cooperate, but I manage to open the right. The light feels like the sun is singeing my brain.

Jordyn's hand slips out of mine and I see her outline retreating through a doorway. She's saying something, but I can't hear what.

I close my eye again and the burning stops. Now I feel a slow, steady throbbing ache throughout my face. Especially in my left eye.

Jordyn's hand takes mine again and I feel her lean over me, close enough to smell that she's chewing mint gum. I breathe in the spicy scent mixed with the sweet jasmine of her hair.

“How are you feeling, Tyler?” a man's voice says from my other side.

I try to say something, but no sound comes out. I clear my throat—it feels like someone has stabbed me in the side. “Pain” is all I manage.

“I hear that. I'll just go ahead and up your pain meds,” the weirdly cheerful guy says.

I hear two low beeping sounds and in a second I'm awash in lightness. My head is spinning and I feel like my body's twisting into positions that are physically impossible. I'm pretty sure my arms are on backward. But at least there's no more pain.

Jordyn strokes my hand and I try to open my eyes again. I still only manage to open the right one. The side she's on.

She looks like she hasn't slept for days. Her eyes are so swollen, I wonder just how long she's been up, how long I've been out.

“Hey,” I say. My voice doesn't even sound like my voice. And my throat is on fire.

A cup is placed to my mouth from my blind side and a hand helps me to take a drink of water. I turn my head so I'm able to see the nurse. I didn't realize he was still here. He's a slim black man with a kind smile. The water cools my throat and I feel much better. I turn back to Jordyn and try again. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She smiles and a tear streaks down her cheek. I try to raise my hand to wipe it away but my side pinches so painfully, I stop.

“The pain meds are only good for so much. Try not to move a lot,” the man says. “I'll see if I can find the doctor for you.” He pats my shoulder gently and then leaves the room. I want him to come back. He makes me feel better.

Jordyn kisses the top of my hand.

“I'm so sorry I shoved you,” I say.

She leans down so her lips are barely touching mine. “Shhh,” she says against my mouth.

“Did you follow me?”

“Of course. Then I heard him attacking you from outside and I called the police. I ran in, not really sure what I planned to do, and I saw him beating the shit out of you. I thought he was going to kill you, Tyler.” Her voice cracks.

“You saw?”

She nods.

I look around the room and she seems to understand what I'm looking for.

“He's in jail.”

Part of me is happy and relieved, but then there's the other part that knows he needs help, and jail isn't where he's going to find it. What happens now? My birthday isn't for another month and a half.

Jordyn lets my hand drop. “I shouldn't have listened to you. I should have told my mom or Henry. This shouldn't have happened.”

“Hey.” I reach out, taking her hand back. But I can't think of what to say. Because she's right. I mean, shit. What if he'd hurt her when she came in after me? Or
killed
her? All my shit about a stupid fucking group home, and I risked her life. How big of an asshole am I?

She wipes her face on her sleeve.

“Tyler, this is Dr. Meyer.” The nice nurse returns followed by a woman with curly, bouncy brown hair and a kind, round face.

“You suffered a ruptured spleen. We didn't have to remove it, but you'll have to remain here for another few days so we can monitor it. The rest of your injuries are superficial. Your eye socket was cracked, but there's not much we can do about that, it'll heal on its own. You might have bone fragments that will need to be removed at a later date. Just try not to move too much if possible and we'll have you out of here in no time.” Her words aren't harsh, but her voice is. It's nothing like her face. Plus she's already out of the room before I can process what she's said.

“Doctors,” the nurse says. “I'm Damon, by the way. Dr. Meyer may not have the best bedside manner, but she's really good. You're in excellent hands, my friend.”

“Thanks, Damon,” I say.

“Can I get you anything?” He's pouring me another cup of water before I even realize that I'm still parched. He holds it to my lips and helps me drink. Being babied by another man should probably be really emasculating, but all I feel is grateful.

Before I know it, it's dark out. I hear Jordyn protesting, but Kelly's insisting she needs to sleep, that she's already missed a day and a half of school and she has to go tomorrow.

A day and a half? It's been that long?

Kelly sees me watching them and turns to me, smiling. It's a sad smile. “You just missed Henry. He went to get the car. How are you doing, honey?”

“I've been better.”

“I shouldn't have let you go back there.” Her eyes get glossy, and she blinks quickly. “I always suspected. Your mom was good at covering, but I always thought something was off. I should have done something. Then. Now. I'm so sorry, Tyler.”

“There was—” I grunt, clear my throat. “There was nothing you could do. She would have stood up for him.”

She puts her hand on my knee. “This should never have happened.”

“This was inevitable,” I say.

“Don't say that.” Jordyn is standing next to Kelly, frowning, angry.

I reach for her hand. “You were right. I'm sorry. I should've listened to you. I should have told someone. We could have—”

A mousy redhead pokes her head into the room. “I'm so sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours are over.”

“Come on, sweetie. We'll be back tomorrow. After school,” Kelly says.

Jordyn's grip on my hand tightens. “You really should go to school tomorrow,” I tell her.

She looks at me like I'm crazy.

“I'll be okay. I've got Damon to keep me company. Just come after, like your mom says.”

Kelly pats my foot and smiles, then puts her arm around Jordyn to lead her out. Jordyn leans over and kisses me, brushing her hand across my cheek. “I love you.”

“I know.” I attempt a smirk.

She smiles back at me.

“I love you too. Go.”

She does.

My side starts to burn again, so I push the button for Damon.

A woman with a large tattoo peeking out of the top of her scrubs comes in.

“What can I do for you?” she asks.

“Where's Damon?”

“His shift ended. I'm Martha. Now, what's the matter, darlin'?”

“My side burns.”

Martha messes with a few cords and buttons and then a wave of peace washes over me.

My arms are on backward again and then I feel a hand cup my chin followed by two cups meeting my lips: the first with a pill, the second with water.

“That'll help you sleep. If you need me again, you know what to do. Night.” She flips off my light and shuts the door behind her.

• • •

When I open my good eye the next morning, my other eye opens a crack too, but not enough to see anything.

“I finally understand why you never wanted to talk about your dad.”

“Doc?”

The screech of a chair against linoleum makes me cringe and my side burns.

“Imagine my surprise when someone called me asking if you were one of mine.” He settles into the chair. He doesn't look happy. The crease between his eyebrows is more like a canyon today. “Tyler, I could have helped. It didn't have to go this far. Shit. I should've seen it.”

“I . . .”

“You didn't want to end up in a home, right?” He sounds pissed. At me? At himself?

I nod, feeling like an asshole.

“I know how your mind works by now. Sort of. But there were other options. If you'd told me everything, we could've figured something out.”

“So I guess we need to discuss those options now?”

His angry expression morphs into confusion. “You haven't talked to Kelly.”

“I have. Why?”

“I take it she didn't tell you. She and Henry offered to take you in.”

“Like I'm a stray fucking dog. Great.” I stare past him out the window. “It's too much to ask of them.”

“Trust me, they're happy to help. Lovely people. And Jordyn . . . That girl is head over heels for you.”

I should feel grateful that Henry and Kelly are helping me. But all I feel is ashamed.

“Oh, uh . . .” He sets my cell phone on the table next to me. “Your dad's been calling you all morning from jail.”

“He probably expects me to post bail,” I mutter. “He almost killed my dog.”

“He almost killed
you
. Goddammit, you should've told me everything.”

“He needs help. With his drinking. With his depression, with dealing with Mom.”

He shakes his head and sighs. “You're a good guy, Tyler.”

“Doc?” I hesitate. “I didn't—I didn't fight back.”

He leans forward and nods, taking in what I've said. I can tell he understands. “What happened with your mother wasn't your fault, Tyler.”

“I know. I mean, I know that. But I feel like I deserved to feel a little of the pain she felt. For not seeing how much she hurt. For not being there for her when she needed someone.”

“I don't know if that's what she would have expected of you, I didn't know her, but I do know that you have to stop blaming yourself. Think your mom would have wanted to see you like this?”

I shake my head. He's right. This was stupid.

“Stop being so hard on yourself, Tyler. I wish you'd see what everyone else sees. You deserve good things.”

• • •

As soon as Dr. Meyer clears me to talk to the cops, a tall thin woman and a taller stocky man, both uniformed, question me for about four hours. Okay, maybe it's only forty-five minutes, but it feels like a freaking lifetime. And they have no interest in my suggestions for getting Dad help.

They finally decide on first-degree assault, and felony child abuse charges, since I'm still a minor. Both could mean sentences of up to twenty-four years. So Dad's basically fucked. And he probably won't get any real help. If I'd told Dr. Dave everything, Dad would've probably been forced to get help before doing something that would keep him from ever getting it. Once again my selfishness fucks someone else over.

• • •

Jordyn comes to visit with Kelly and Henry right after school, as promised. They've brought me some amazing, gourmet chicken soup that Kelly made. I don't even have words for how grateful I am.

Henry isn't able to stay long—he has to get back to the studio, and Kelly leaves with him. My side is really bothering me. I was about to ask Damon for an extra dose of the pain meds right before Jordyn and everyone came, and then I sort of forgot.

“So my mom and Henry are talking about—” Jordyn stops. “You don't look so good.” She sits on the side of my bed, laying her hand on mine.

“My side's bugging me. It's not a big deal.” I reach for the button that summons Damon and wince as a sharp pain stabs through my torso.

Jordyn marches out into the hall and returns with a very concerned-looking Damon.

“Again?” he asks, lifting my shirt. Jordyn gasps when she sees the eggplant-colored bruising that covers pretty much the entire left side of my rib cage.

Damon carefully presses against the bruising and then shakes his head. “I have to get Dr. Meyer in here. This is the third time. I'm starting to worry.”

As soon as he's out the door, Jordyn, who looks horrified, gently sits on the bed again.

I reach up to brush her hair back. “It's probably nothing,” I say. But I'm scared shitless.