We’re just sleeping. It’s innocent, but I doubt Shira would be too impressed.
Staring up at Mya’s ceiling of glowing stars, I know with alarming clarity I don’t want to die. That I’d do anything to stop the shifting, even if it means having to choose.
Chapter Fourteen
Shira’s dead
The smell of antiseptic and death. Starched sheets and a needle in my arm. I’m in the hospital. Guess I didn’t die after all.
Part of me wishes I had. Waking up in the hospital might actually be worse than staying in the darkness. My mom’s curled up on a sofa chair beside my bed. What can I say that’ll make her feel better? Sorry’s just not going to cut it. I’m still pissed at her from the conversation we had in the other world. But this is the same Mom; she just doesn’t know I’m gay.
“Mom?” The words stick in my throat. Feels like I swallowed a cactus, a great prickly one with spines skewering the back of my tongue. My throat’s burning. There’s a water cup on the tray beside the bed. I reach for it, but my wrists are shackled to the bed, strapped down with thick padded leather. Tugging on the restraints proves futile. They won’t budge.
“Mom,” I call louder with a husky voice, trying not to panic. Strapped down and doped up, it’s my worst nightmare come true. Mom stirs, blinks awake.
“Mom?” I have to say it again before she realizes I’m conscious and rushes to my bedside.
“Oh, thank God.” She crosses herself before kissing my forehead and calling for the nurse.
“Thirsty,” I manage to say through dry lips. She holds the cup to my face and I suck on the straw. Cool water snakes down my arid throat. Bliss.
“What happened?” I ask, looking down at my hands tied to the bed.
My mom’s pale, her cheeks hollow, and hair the color of ash wisps around her creased forehead.
“He’s awake?” A nurse I don’t know smiles at me as she checks my pulse and adjusts the rate of fluid flowing into my arm.
“Why am I strapped down? Are these necessary?” The question comes out angrier than I meant it to.
The nurse undoes the straps as my mom steps away, still studying the floor.
“You were restless, Kyle. You kept pulling out your IV. That’s all.” The nurse smiles at me, makes a note in the chart at the foot of my bed.
“What day is it?” I’m wearing a hospital band instead of my watch.
“Monday. You were brought in last night,” the nurse answers.
“When can I go home?”
“Now that you’re awake, the doctor will be in to see you later. We’ll know more then. I’ll bring you some breakfast.” She pats my foot before leaving me alone with my mom again.
Mom perches on the edge of the chair, fingers pressed against her lips as if in prayer. Her eyes are red from crying.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I whisper.
“Did your father do this to you?”
“What?”
“The broken ribs, your lip, your cheek. Kyle, if your father did this—”
“No, I fell out the tree and then some guys outside Black Paw beat me up. This has nothing to do with Dad.”
“If he did, you can tell me. I’m your mother. I’ll protect you.”
“You never did before.” The bitterness in my words surprises me. Dad always timed his drunken rages while Mom was at work. She’d put frozen vegetables on my bruises and pick up broken glass the next morning. Even if Mom had been home, it would’ve been me protecting her anyway.
Fresh tears snail down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry.” I rake fingers through my hair, tugging out the tangles. “Mom, I promise. It wasn’t Dad this time. Is that what everyone thinks, that Dad did this?” I have a history with the emergency room. He broke my arm once.
Mom comes to the bed and takes my hand. “He’s been drinking again. I found broken plates.”
“Yeah, that’s the night I fell out of the tree.”
“Getting out the house, away from him?”
I nod. “But he never hit me.”
She brushes hair off my face. “Then why try to…” Her bottom lip trembles. “Why, Kyle?”
“I don’t know. It was stupid.”
“I know losing your friend was hard, and we haven’t been too supportive, and your father’s drinking and my hours… I’m sorry, Kyle.”
“Mom, this isn’t your fault, OK? I just wanted to sleep and took too many pills, that’s all.”
I struggle into a sitting position. The pain in my ribs isn’t so bad anymore, but moving and breathing still hurts. Mom hugs me, gently, careful not to put too much pressure on my side. Then she kisses my forehead and smooths back my hair.
“I shouldn’t have left you with him. This is my fault.”
“It’s not your fault.” But maybe it is. “Where were you?”
Mom looks down. “There were things I just had to do—”
“I just want to go home,” I interject, not wanting to hear my mom lie. “Where’s Dad now?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t let him in to see you.”
“Who found me?”
“Your father. He was hungover when he arrived at the ER with you.”
Dad found me, brought me to the hospital. That had to count for something despite all the other crap.
“Does Danny know?”
She frowns, picks up her handbag and digs around inside the voluminous pockets, producing my phone. A book of matches tumbles out with it.
Throbbing Strawberry
written in neon pink. My heart catapults into my throat and my guts tangle up in knots. She snatches the matchbook from the floor as if I didn’t notice.
“I thought you might want this.” She passes me the phone.
“Thanks.” No new messages. Danny hasn’t called.
“Is everything okay between the two of you?” she asks before I can ask about the motel.
“Yeah, just arguing over this stupid memorial for Shira.”
“I’m just going to freshen up. I’ll be back in a minute.” She pats my hand and leans forward to kiss my forehead before scooting out the room. There’s only one reason anyone goes out to the Throbbing Strawberry and pays per hour for a bed. I don’t want to think about it.
I call Danny’s home phone, knowing someone’ll answer. It rings twice before Gabriela picks up.
“Kyle, he doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“I know, just tell him I’m sorry, that I’m a total dick and…”
“And?”
“And…I’m in the hospital because I OD’d last night.” The words gush out, leaving me breathless.
“Hold on.” Muffled Spanish, Gabriela talking to Danny before he takes the receiver.
“Are you OK?” Danny asks.
“I think so.”
“Can I come and see you?”
“If you want to.”
“I’ll be there.” Danny hangs up. I thought I’d feel better, but the hollow feeling in my stomach is still there.
The nurse brings me a plate from breakfast served up at six a.m. Four hours later, the food is congealed and gross, and tastes like plastic. I manage the fruit salad. My throat still feels raw, grated on the inside. They probably had to pump my stomach. I’m glad I don’t remember any of it.
* * *
The TV’s just varicolored zigzags, not that daytime shows are worth watching anyway. I channel hop until the picture clears, and turn up the volume. A special segment about Obscura. An astrophysicist from NASA at a loss trying to explain how Obscura couldn’t have just arrived in the solar system without us seeing it coming.
“What is your scientific opinion regarding the beliefs that aliens have come to save us from ourselves?”
The picture shows a whole herd of idiots crammed onto rooftops with painted boards asking for alien intervention, offering their bodies, minds, and souls to extraterrestrial saviors. I thought the religious zealots were nuts.
“And what about doomsday theories? Could Obscura cause an apocalyptic event on Earth?” The reporter sounds worried.
“At this point, I’d say no, but the truth is, our predictive models are failing. We just don’t know what Obscura’s arrival could mean.” The physicist scratches his chin. “We have no way to predict its behavior. It doesn’t appear to be on a collision course with Earth, but its effects on our planet are certainly being felt.”
“So do you think we should prepare for the worst?”
The scientist hesitates, wipes a hand over his face and nods. “Perhaps we should prepare for something.”
“And what is this something?”
“I’d recommend stocking up on canned food, bottled water. Basic survival gear. No reason to panic, but no harm in being prepared.” The scientist stares straight at the camera, straight into me. Perfect timing; the TV crackles, and the scientist’s face, carved with concern, dissolves into snow.
I drift in and out of sleep, vaguely aware of my mom in the chair mumbling prayers. She better be praying damn hard if she’s off rendezvousing with someone other than my dad at the Throbbing Strawberry.
Every time I close my eyes, I think I’ll wake up back in Mya’s bed, but I don’t. For whatever reason, I’m stuck in this reality. At least I’m not dreaming, back in that cell and burning.
I want to ask my mom about the matches, but I can’t. Like I have the right to be all self-righteous. Maybe cheating is in our genes. Thanks, Mom.
Danny rolls in some time later, and with him comes the aroma of bacon and cheese. He offers me a brown paper bag and a smile.
“Hey you,” he says, then realizes my mom’s on the chair. “Hello, Mrs. Wolfe.”
“Daniel, thank you for coming by.”
“Real food.” I open the bag and inhale.
“Wasn’t sure what they letting you eat, so just made a toasted bacon and cheese.”
“My favorite.” I return his smile and reach for his hand. He looks awkward and tries to pull his fingers from mine, but I hold onto them. I don’t care if Mom sees.
“I’m so sorry, Danny. About yesterday.”
“Nah, I overreacted, that’s all.”
My mom clears her throat and gathers herself out of the chair. “Think I’ll grab some coffee from the cafeteria. You boys want anything?” She gives me an odd look with the hint of a smile.
“No, thank you.” I answer for both of us.
“Your mom totally knows, man.”
“Maybe. Like it matters.”
“It doesn’t?” Danny’s face quirks up in confusion.
“Mom’s not my favorite person right now.” I take a bite of the sandwich. Grease and salt never tasted so good.
“You wanna tell me why you tried to off yourself then?”
“I didn’t.” I swallow. “Didn’t really want to die. Just wanted to sleep.”
“And you had to chug a bag of painkillers for that?” He raises his eyebrows.
“If I told you something, do you promise not to think I’m batshit crazy?”
He reaches up and takes a bite of my half-eaten sandwich. “I’m listening.”
We’re interrupted by the nurse and a doctor. Sharp green eyes peer at me from behind horn-rimmed spectacles.
“Feeling better, Kyle?”
“Much.” I take another bite.
“Could I have a moment?” He turns to Danny, but I grab his hand.
“No, he’s staying.”
The doctor harrumphs and continues. “Very well. We have some concerns about your health and would like to do a few more tests.”
“Is this because of the overdose?”
“Well.” The doctor pushes his glasses up his narrow nose. “The drugs you took should not have put you into the coma they did. We’re concerned that you may have some underlying problem. We’re a little worried about your kidneys.”
Yeah, I shift between realities thanks to Obscura causing a breach in the multiverse
.
Wonder what that answer would earn me on a psych test?
“I didn’t try to kill myself. I just wanted to sleep,” I say instead.
“You’re having trouble sleeping?”
“Sometimes.” I don’t want to tell this grim-faced guy anything. They’ll just want to poke and prod me, run tests and draw conclusions that have nothing to do with what’s really going on.
The doctor frowns and strokes his chin.
“Can I go home today?”
“No, we need to watch you for seventy-two hours. As I said, I think we need to do a few more tests. Even if it wasn’t a suicide attempt, there are certain protocols.”
“Like a psych evaluation?” Danny asks.
“Yes, there’s that.”
“Can I leave if the shrink gives me the all clear?” Hospitals: where people go to die. Now that I know that’s not really what I want, I just want out of here. I’ve spent enough of my life in a hospital bed, even if it was in another reality.
The doctor looks flustered. “Is your mother still here?”
“No,” I say. “When can I see the shrink?”
“You’re on the schedule for as soon as possible.”
“Great. I’ll see the shrink and then I’m leaving.”
“Kyle, are you sure?” Danny gives me a worried look and I squeeze his hand. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by the doctor or nurse.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“I think perhaps we should discuss this with your mother.” The doctor’s treating me like a kid.
“I’m eighteen. You can’t keep me here against my will.”
The doctor harrumphs again, fiddles with his glasses. The nurse makes a note in my chart.
“I would advise you to think carefully about this, Kyle. You haven’t received comprehensive medical care since the fire. If you suffered a head trauma, we need to know about it. You’ve likely suffered a concussion recently as well. This could all contribute toward something more serious.”
“Just send in the shrink, please, Doc.” I smile and munch through more sandwich, although the cheese is starting to make me feel a little nauseated.
“You would be acting against my professional medical advice.”
“That’s within my rights, isn’t it? If I’m not about to off myself, which I’m not.” I’m being a dick again, but the guy’s pissing me off. All these concerned nurses and wise doctors with their judgmental eyes. I hate the lot of them.
The doctor mutters on, but I’m not listening. After a minute, he gives up and leaves with the nurse in tow.
“Why you being such an asshole?” Danny asks. “If there’s something wrong, don’t you wanna know?”
“I already know what’s wrong.”
His eyes widen. “You do?”
Abandoning the sandwich, I knot the sheet around my fingers, not knowing where to start. “I love you, Danny. Please know that. No matter what, OK? Maybe I’m not ready for more than that right now, but I do love you.”