Undertow (14 page)

“I think I’ll search for some lunch now and come back later.” Her father dropped the bouquet on the bedside table and marched out.

It didn’t seem like lunchtime already; she’d only awaked a few minutes ago. The young woman who took her stats earlier appeared bearing a tray. “Your lunch, Miss,” she said timidly. Without making eye contact, she darted across the room as though the floor was littered with landmines, set the tray down, and was half way to the door before Marissa spoke.

Twenty-two

W
ater pelted her skin in fat droplets, lukewarm and meager, while Marissa exfoliated her skin with the thin washcloth. The woman standing outside the door unnerved her. She felt fine, though, and wished she could psychically force the woman to leave. It wasn’t like she was going to pass out in the shower or anything.

As she massaged the shampoo into a froth, Marissa attempted to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. First, her mission had been screwed up by those dudes hanging out at Ecola. That meant the merman didn’t reject her again, as she had feared when she awoke in the hospital with an excruciating headache. Second, everyone assumed she tried to kill herself. Except for Kelly, who knew the truth, but believed it was just some crazy dream. Third, and most important, He was waiting for her.
Stupid surfers,
she fumed
. I should sue them!
Next time, she’d be more careful
.

“Are you all right in there?” the nurse called from the doorway.

Marissa groaned and slammed the lever down to cut off the dinky flow. Reaching around the curtain, she groped along the wall for a towel until the nurse thrust one into her hand. The woman might as well be a warden, she thought, and wondered how much longer before she’d get set free.

Her mother sat bolt-upright in the visitor’s chair, tapping her foot. Missing was the hopeful expression she had yesterday. Today she looked weary. Exhausted, even.

“Why don’t you two go for a walk around the ward,” the nurse suggested. “It would do Miss Johansen good to exercise her legs.”

Her mother kept pace with Marissa’s determined stride.
“I saw your dad down in the Atrium.” After waiting a few seconds for a reply, she cast another line. “Dick was pretty upset.”

“You mean
angry
. Dad was
angry
. So what else is new?”

“Mari, honey, he’s not angry, he’s . . .
concerned
. So am I.”

It wasn’t like her mother to defend him; she usually blamed him for everything. It hadn’t helped that Richard replaced her while the ink was still wet on their divorce papers. Infuriated, she didn’t allow Marissa to see him for months, until he threatened to sue for visitation rights.
His
rights, not Marissa’s.

They rounded the corner and passed the nurses’ station. She glared at the women, in their neat uniforms, wishing she could make everyone go away. When was the last time she’d had any privacy?

Her mother stopped and faced her. She looked old in a way Marissa never noticed before. Gray circles and bags lined her eyes, and her forehead was marred with deep grooves. “Honey,” she said, her voice urgent, “I know why you did it—why you went into the ocean. Kelly told me.”

Marissa’s stomach sunk to her feet and she felt lightheaded, the way she had when she used to ride the elevator at her father’s old office all the way to the top and press the button for street level; the ancient machine plummeted fourteen floors like a stone tossed out of the high rise window.
How could Kelly betray her like this? Did she tell Drake, too?

The paralysis lifted as quickly as it had descended. She willed her feet into action and left her
mother standing in the corridor calling after her. “Wait, Mari . . .”

History had taught her mother to give Marissa wide berth when she was like that; more than once there’d been an ugly fight because her mother failed to let her escape. She managed to get back to her room without her mother pursuing her, but the escape was short-lived. Less than an hour later, the timid nurse’s assistant knocked once on the door and entered before Marissa could yell at her to leave. In her shadow was a lanky frame hiding behind a balloon the size of a hippo.

“You have a visitor, Miss Johansen,” she announced, smiling.

Apparently, her politeness after lunch lulled the girl into a false trust in her continued good will. Before Marissa could prove her wrong, Jim’s head jutted out from behind the balloon. He grinned at her.

“Surprise, surprise! How are you doing, sugar?”

She swallowed the venom she was about to spit at the girl and smiled.
He’s the cutest guy I ever saw,
she thought. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?
“Freaking’ fantastic, Jim. How kind of you to inquire.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Much obliged, Miss, much obliged. That’s why I came, sugar—to inquire after you.”

“And so you have. Will you stay for a spell, then?”

They both burst into laughter and the girl ducked out of the room. Marissa hardly noticed; she was totally caught up in Jim. God, it was good to see him
,
she thought
.
He was the only human friend she had left.

Jim scooped her up in a bear hug; he squeezed her so tight she had to gasp for oxygen. He relaxed his arms and bent down to smash his lips against hers, a hint of desperation in his kiss. He released her and stepped back, looking her up and down.

“Baby, are you okay? Really?”

Jim’s eyes searched hers, probing for some confirmation that nothing fundamental had changed, that she was still the same girl who bailed on him a week ago without any warning.

But I’m not
, she thought.
I have changed. Just not like you think.

“
I’m fine, Jim. Really.”

Her father chose that exact moment to barge in. She should have expected as much; he always messed things up.

Richard shot her a look, then examined Jim. Disapproval dripped from his voice as he demanded, “And you are?”

“Jim.” He straightened into his full height as if a grizzly had approached. Flashing one of his grins, he said, “Jim Montaigne.”

The charm offense was a waste. Her father just nodded curtly and kept his hands stuffed into his pockets. “French name.”

“Guilty as charged.” Jim laughed.

Unsmiling, Richard said, “French for mountain, in fact. But you look more mole hill and less mountain.”

“I guess so.” Jim gave a nervous laugh and looked over at Marissa like:
What a loser, don’t know how you do it.

“I’m Richard Johansen . . . Marissa’s father.”

“Right. Nice to meet you, Mr. Johansen.”

“I’m sure. Apparently, you already know my daughter.”

Richard gave him a suspicious look like he was certain that underneath the charm, Jim was really some closet ax murderer type.

“Hey, Dad. Jim’s a friend. From school.” She kept her voice casual. The situation was uncomfortable enough already; no sense starting a scene.

Her father’s mouth turned up at the corners in one of his superior smirks. “Yes, Marissa, your
friend
and I just met.” He stared her down, ignoring Jim. “So. Are you feeling any better now?”

“Actually, I’m getting a killer headache.” She hoped he’d take the hint and leave.

“You should call the nurse and ask for something.”

Pretty naïve of her to hope he would take a hint,
she told herself, as if he ever had.
Why should he start now?

Jim ran his hands through those thick curls she loved. And envied. Casting a wary eye at her father, he said, “I’m going to go find some caffeine. I’ll come back later,” he said, and gave her a wink before he escaped.

Left alone with her father now, she unleashed the angry beast snarling inside. “How dare you treat him that way? How dare you treat
me
like this!”

“The last thing you need right now is some young stud hanging around.”

Livid, she lowered her voice into a dangerous monotone. “Who do
you
think you are to know what I need?”

Richard stuck his chin out and thrust his shoulders back. “I’m your father, that’s who.”

Too late for that, Dick
, she thought.
You’re just a few years too late
. She exploded. “Get out!”

He gaped at her. “I . . .”

Cutting him off, she said, “Go. Now. Please just leave me alone.”

“You’re obviously upset. I want you to listen to me, Marissa,” her father said. His I’m-in-charge-now voice was on and he puffed up like a blowfish.

She snorted. Did he really still imagine she was some twelve-year-old girl he could order around?

“Father,” she said. “Leave. Before I call the nurse and have you thrown out.”

His eyes expanded till they seemed about to pop and his jaw muscles twitched. Through clenched teeth he said, “Fine. I’ll go. We’ll talk later, when you are yourself again.”

As he strode toward the door, her mother appeared and blocked his exit.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Nothing, Shannon. Just Marissa flexing her muscles again. Acting childish,” Richard said. “
I’m
leaving now.
You
talk to her, see if you can get some sense in her head. That boy seemed like trouble.”

“Ricky, she’s not a kid anymore. She’s eighteen. When are you going to stop butting heads with her?”

“Maybe when she grows up and starts acting her age! For Christ’s sake, Shannon! What kind of a girl walks into the ocean?” Richard squinted and dropped his voice. “Maybe if you hadn’t let her move in with that last Bozo.”

“You’re blaming
me
?” Her eyes flew wide open and she looked like she might lunge at him. “Well, you have some gall! After what your brother did—”

“Leave Gilbert out of this, Shannon!”

This sent her over the edge. Marissa screamed, “Get out! Both of you! Get the hell out of my room!” She grabbed the plastic cup with the bendable straw from her bed tray and chucked it at them. “Go away!”

The duty nurse materialized in her room in an instant, panting and flushed. “Miss?” Marissa ignored her; she was preparing to launch a tissue box at her dad. Turning to the petrified couple who stood mesmerized by the drama, the nurse said, “I’m sorry, but both of you will need to leave now,” and ushered them from the room.

After they left, Marissa proceeded to clear the table of every object within reach. The vase of carnations shattered against the wall. The tears she had been holding back poured from her eyes. Grabbing her feet with her hands, she rocked on the bed. “I hate him . . . I hate him . . . I hate him . . .”

The nurse returned and brought two young men in green scrubs with her. She approached Marissa as if she were a trapped wildcat. Holding out a glass of water and a tiny cup containing a pill, she said, “Miss Johansen, this will help you relax and rest for a while.”