Offside (53 page)

There was some cat screeching at me, and I couldn’t figure out why.

Meow! Meow! Meow!

It was fucking loud, too, and my head was pounding.

Meow! Meow! Meow!

My eyes opened slowly, and I tried to figure out where I was and what I was doing there.

Closet…I’m in my closet…

Why?

I closed my eyes again.

Meow! Meow! Meow!

That sound was seriously annoying, but at the same time seemed somewhat important. My head continued to pound at my temples, and I pried my eyes open long enough to reestablish that I was on the floor of my closet, lying amongst a pile of crayons with the edge of my laptop up against my nose.

Meow! Meow! Meow!

The laptop was flashing.

BeautifulSkye18 is online.

Rumple!

I moved my hand from my side and touched the keyboard. I tapped the square at the bottom twice and a little window appeared. My eyes started to close again, and my head felt heavy even though I was still lying on the floor.

I had to stay awake.

NeedMyRumple: need u

My fingers kind of locked up on me, and I could taste bile in my throat. I swallowed.

BeautifulSkye18: oh Thomas—I need you too! Dad is trying to work something out. He said it could take a day or two, though.

Ugh. I shook my head and took a deep breath.

NeedMyRumple: now pls

BeautifulSkye18: I want to—I do, but your dad won’t let me in the door!

My fingers shook as I tried to tap on the keyboard.

NeedMyRumple: hes ded

BeautifulSkye18: what?

NeedMyRumple: cooime now pleadse

BeautifulSkye18: Thomas—what do you mean?

Thomas?

Thomas! Answer me! What do you mean? Dead? Is your dad dead???

THOMAS!!!

I’m coming, baby—hang on. Dad too. We’ll be there ASAP

I could still see the screen, but it looked blurry, and my fingers were no longer functioning. I closed my eyes and was encompassed by darkness.

I could hear someone calling my name, but it was like hearing something while you’re under water. I tried opening my eyes, but they just didn’t want to cooperate. Slowly, the sounds seemed to get closer, and then I could actually make out the words.

“Thomas? Thomas? Oh my God…Dad!! He’s up here!!”

Footsteps…someone’s hand on my arm. My arm jerked a little…reflexive…involuntary. More words—muffled and distant—then another voice nearby.

“Thomas? Can you hear me, baby?”

That sound…that voice. I knew that voice.

“Rumple…”

“It’s me, Thomas.”

I managed to open my eyes a crack, and I saw the most beautiful angel in the world—with deep blue eyes and deep, rich, long hair hanging around her perfect face. I could feel her touch on my cheek, and I had the most important realization I had ever had in my entire life.

It’s over.

“Rumple!” I cried out, and my arms found just enough strength to grab on to her and pull her against my chest. Her arms went around me, too, and she whispered into my ear.

“It’s okay, Thomas,” she said. “It’s okay—I’m here.”

I felt her turn slightly and tightened my grip.

“Don’t go!” I begged.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised. “Dad!”

I felt the slight pressure of fingers on the inside of my wrist.

“His heart’s beating really fast,” Greg murmured. “EMTs are on their way. Five minutes, tops.”

“What about…what about his dad?”

“Looks like he shot himself,” I heard Greg say.

“Oh my God,” Nicole said with a gasp. “Thomas…you’re okay. Help is on the way. Stay with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

I inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of her all around me.

“Thomas?” Greg’s voice again. “Thomas, did you…inject yourself with something?”

“Uh huh,” I mumbled back.

“
What
?” Rumple cried, her shock evident in her voice.

“What was it, Thomas?” Greg asked.

“Adrenaline…so I could…get up here…”

“Shit,” Rumple hissed. I felt her arms tighten around me, and I think I smiled a bit.

“Missed you,” I said, and I tucked my head against her shoulder and closed my eyes again.

“I love you, Thomas,” she responded. “It will all be okay now.”

“Love…too…”

Shakespeare had some interesting thoughts, as spoken though Richard II: “I have been studying how I may compare, this prison where I live unto the world.” Somehow, I thought things would be a little better from here on out.

Now I was free.

CHAPTER 30

RESTART

It was raining.

Drizzling, really—it wasn't hard enough to qualify as rain. It was still wet, and it made one of the wheels on my chair squeak a bit as I nervously shifted the chair forward and backwards. My eyes looked forward, blankly staring as the coffin containing Dad's body was slowly lowered into a giant hole next to Mom's grave.

Nicole was behind me with her fingers gripping the handles of the wheelchair, and Greg was just a few feet away, kind of watching me constantly. I wanted to be pissed about him hovering and being overly concerned, but I couldn't be. I wanted to be annoyed that Nicole was insisting on wheeling me around, but I couldn't be ticked off about that either because she was there—with me.

I had been out of the hospital for exactly two hours. They only kept me there for a couple days of observation, wanting to make sure my body got rid of all the excess adrenaline and that there weren't any other complications caused by either the hormone, the injury to my side from falling out of the chair, or the exertion of pulling myself up the stairs.

I had to take their word for it—I didn't remember a thing.

It was weird.
Dissociative amnesia
, the doctors called it. I remembered going into Dad's study, finding the letter from Thomas Gardner, and Nicole being in the ambulance with me and playing with my hair as we left my house and headed for the hospital. Everything in the middle was a total blank.

Apparently, that was a good thing.

Considering I had spent a good chunk of my life remembering each and every detail of each and every day, it was strange to know I had completely lost a good twelve hours.

Reverend Walsh read from the Bible as those in attendance bowed their heads. He recited a little prayer, said amen, and that was the end of Doctor Lou Malone.

Anticlimactic, to say the least.

Then again, I wasn't so sure that he deserved much more.

Nicole moved me backwards, out from under the little tent that was positioned over the gravesite, and into the drizzle. Greg was walking behind us, holding an umbrella and being all somber. We stopped on the walkway as a bunch of people gathered around to come up and pay their respects to me. I knew the faces, remembered most of the names, but everything was still a blur as they went by in droves. Teachers, people from the hospital, guys on my soccer team, Clint…

As Jeremy gripped my shoulder affectionately and Rachel kissed my cheek, Clint stood behind them, kicking at the ground. When the other two walked away, he took a timid step forward, and I raised my eyes to look at him.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he replied.

He kicked the ground some more.

“Come here,” I finally said with a sigh and held my hand out to him. He took it, and I pulled him to me, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and hugged him. “We're good. I know it sounds totally fucked up, but I'm kind of grateful.”

I let go, and he pulled back, looking at me quizzically.

“Yeah,” he said, “that does sound fucked up.”

He finally smiled back and promised to bring me a copy of
Shaolin Soccer
on DVD for us to watch some time. The rain stopped as he walked away, and I shook hands and nodded a dozen times as people told me how sorry they were and offered to bring food over to the house for me. After a few minutes, almost everyone was gone from the cemetery. There were just a few still remaining, mingling about in groups of two or three.

Justin and Danielle came up to me as the crowd dispersed.

“I'll call you, and we'll meet to talk about your PT going forward, okay?” Danielle asked. I just nodded.

“I'd like to talk to you, too, Thomas,” Justin said, “if that's okay.”

“Yeah,” I said, “it is.”

Nicole put her hand on my shoulder, and I looked up into her concerned eyes.

“Tell him everything, Thomas,” she said softly.

I dropped my eyes to my lap and nodded. My pair of therapists—one for my broken body, one for my broken mind—walked off toward the parking lot.

“Thomas?” Greg said from off to my side. He hadn't spoken a word to me since we got to the cemetery. “I don't know what your plans are short term, but I want you coming back home with me and Nicole for now.”

Honestly, I hadn't thought about it much at all. I had kind of assumed I would just go home, but even the thought of going back there made me feel a little sick.

“I can't do that, Greg,” I heard myself say. “I can't impose like that.”

“Bull,” he replied. “You can and you will. We need to have a service come and…and clean up over there before you go back at all. Even if that weren’t the case, I don't want you going to that house by yourself. No way in hell. I'm not taking no for an answer, son.”

I looked up to his stern face and twitchy moustache and smiled a bit. Going home with them did sound like about the best situation I could conjure up, except…except…how would I even get in the house?

“Greg, you know I appreciate it, but it's not like your house is really equipped for a cripple.”

I heard Nicole huff at the word.

“Why don't you quit trying to come up with excuses and let me worry about that?” he replied as he crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at me.

I sighed, knowing there was no way he was going to back down, so I agreed. He nodded in satisfaction and then went to talk to the principal about getting my schoolwork to Nicole so I could graduate on time. As Nicole wheeled me down the walkway toward the car, I tried to figure out just how in the heck all this was going to work. Even once they got me and the chair into the house, there was only the one bathroom, and it was on the second floor. I could just stay in Nicole's room, which sounded mighty fine to me, but the hallway was narrow. Would the chair even fit through it?

Nicole steered me next to the passenger side of my Jeep, which she drove because the Hyundai had finally died on her. She then told me to stay put while she dragged Greg away from the school principal. I sat there feeling kind of numb and wondering just what the heck the future was going to look like.