***
Katie has texted relentlessly with back to back calls to my cell. What part of, “I need some time to myself,” does she not understand! Shit. When I shut off my cell, then she started calling my house. I am sure when I turn on my Facebook I will have at least a dozen messages or so from her as well.
I get in the shower. My grandfather was right, it still hurts like hell, but my head is clearer, I am thinking of a plan on how to get her back. It is going to start with rebuilding my grandma’s dark room. Let time settle things for a while. I wrap a towel around my waist, the phone rings again. This chick is crazy, she is going too far. I grab the receiver off the holder. “Damn it, what part of leave me alone don’t you get!” I snap into the phone.
“Excuse me! Is that any way to talk to your mother young man! And who taught you to answer the phone like that?” My mother scolds me on the other end.
“Mom. No. I mean I am sorry Mom.” I sigh plopping down on to my bed.
“Never Mind. Dylan I didn’t call to yell at you. I am calling you about your friend Barbie…”
My chest tightens. “What?” I ask sitting back up.
“There was an accident…” I don’t hear her other words my heart pounds so hard that I cannot hear anything, only the blood that is rushing through my body. “Dylan? Dylan did you hear me?” My mom’s panicked voice says in the phone.
“Mom” I plead with her. “Mom please. Please tell me everything is okay.” She slipped and broke her ankle in a pair of her ridiculous high heels.
“Dylan we need you to try to talk to her, she is not speaking, and the cops need to know what happened. Mrs. is on her…” I drop the phone. Pulling on whatever I can grab off the floor. My feet pound down the steps three at a time and I am running as fast as I can in the direction of the hospital. Shoes in my hand.
Mrs. Berry drives slower than molasses. She keeps reassuring me that Barbie will be okay. She tells me they think she is in a state of shock; a neighbor found her early this morning she was passed out, lying in a puddle. My stomach lurches and I think I am going to be sick right here in Mrs. Berry’s Lincoln town car.
“That poor girl was pretty bloody when they found her, incoherent, who could do such a thing to a lovely girl like that.” She clucks. “Her mother cannot be found so what happened is a mystery.” She continues.
I am about to strangle poor Mrs. Berry if she stops at another damn yellow light.
“It’s a darn shame.” she rattles on, her car idling at the red light three blocks away. I hop out of her Lincoln town car and I run. Mrs. Berry is out of her car calling my name, but I don’t stop running. I run through the sliding double doors ignoring the shout from the receptionist. I know this hospital with my eyes closed. I used to come and hang out with mom on her shift and I would explore every nook and cranny of this place.
Normally the cold air and the smell of disinfectant are comforting to me, but now they cause my stomach to turn threatening to bring up this morning’s fruit loops. My sneakers squeak against the white and blue speckled linoleum floor. I push through another set of swinging doors. “Hey whoa.” Dr. Cooper holds up his hands. I don’t want to hurt the guy but I am fully prepared to deck him if he tries to stop me. “Dylan. She is over here,” he nods to a dark room.
My breathing catches up with me and my chest heaves with the caught air. I start toward the room. My body moves in slow involuntary movements, I feel like I might fall over my own feet. I brace myself for what I am about to see.
I push open the door, the room is small and I feel like I am looking in on someone else’s horror not my own. This is not Barbie, my mother made a mistake. I see a small figure in the bed, the bed swallowing her, she seems so small. So fragile. A machine beeps in the distance. In a chair next to the bed is Third, He has his head in his hands. He is wearing his Darth Vader tee that says, ‘Who is your daddy?’ and a pair of stained sweat pants. The sound of my feet on the floor causes his head to snap up. How long has he been here? Deep purple circles or present under his eyes, anger flashes in them.
“Where the hell have you been?” he says in an angered whisper.
“Me?” I start to get angry.
He rises to his feet; his pale blue eyes are bloodshot. His hands flex into fists at his sides. “I have been calling you, hell everybody has been fucking calling you.” He is angry.
“Is she okay?” I ignore him; looking over at the hospital bed I can only see the back of her head.
“Yeah I guess. If you consider a few broken ribs, and a concussion, okay? Then yeah she is freaking dandy!” Third spits. He has every reason to be pissed at me, but this is not the place to have it out.
“Third,” I am about to tell him so, but he cuts me off again.
“She has been asking for you,” he crosses his arms. “Just see if you can get her to talk. Shit man she will not talk to anyone,” he washes his face with his hands, desperation in his voice. “Get her to talk.” He repeats before he leaves the room.
I walk over to were Third was sitting. My breath catches. She has stitches across her forehead and several bloody scratches on her face, her cheeks are swollen with angry red and purple bruises. Shit. I reach under the blankets and grab on to her hand, it is so small in mine. She always seemed so strong, I never once thought of her as fragile. Who could have done this to her. Anger surges through me.
“Dylan?” her voice comes in short raspy breaths and I cringe at the sound.
“Hey,” I do my best to smile at her, but she starts to cry, silent tears falling out of her amazing blue eyes. I start to cry myself, angry tears burn my face, and I want to hurt whoever did this to her. “Shhh,” I pull her hand to my mouth and kiss it. She tries to sit up but grimaces in pain, she gives up and cries harder lying back down. I will break whoever did this to her. I am going to make sure they feel each pain she feels tenfold. “Barbie, don’t move. Please,” my voice shakes. I push her hair back out of her face. And she presses her face into my hand. She needs me as much as I need to touch her.
I bring my forehead to hers, “Tell me what happened. I am going to kill the person who did this to you.” Anger pulses through me with a mixture of grief.
She shakes her head back and forth and chokes on a sob.
“You have to tell me,” I demand my voice rising with anger.
“I can’t,” she chokes out.
“Why the hell not?” I grimace at how harsh I sound. “Who are you trying to protect? Is it Tyler?” My hands shake as I imagine punching the guy in the face, fine if she will not tell me I will beat it out of him. I stand.
“If I say anything they will take him away,” she sobs.
“So you will protect the jerk so that he doesn’t go to jail!” I shout. I don’t want to be angry with her when she is so broken, but how can she protect someone that could do this to her.
“Not Tyler. Everett.” I fall back to the chair. Everett? “What does Everett have to do with this?”
She turns on her side facing the wall.
“Last night I thought things could not get any more screwed up,” she laughs but there is nothing funny behind it. “I was so confused with what you said to me. I was finally starting to feel okay. Like if you didn’t forgive me that I was going to be fine, and then you told me you love me. I was so confused.”
I flinch at the truth behind her words. “I was stupid thinking I could pretend to be someone else for a night, I thought I could be normal for one night.” Tears pour down her face. “When I walked in the door…” she starts to cry harder, her shoulder shake. “He had him cornered. Hitting him with a wire hanger,” she sobs. I climb in the bed no longer able to stay away from her. I want to take away her pain I pull her to me as carefully as I can, holding her against my chest. “He just sat there in the corner not moving, all because I left him, Dylan.” She grabs onto my shirt holding onto me.
“It’s not your fault.” I rub small circles on her back while she speaks.
“I wanted to kill him. I wanted him to die.”
She begged me not to say anything. She told me where she left Everett. I should have left, and did what I promised, but the sensible side of me kicked in. I hate myself for telling, my hands shake as I told the officer who jots every word down on his yellow note pad, my mom watches me with horrified gasps, and a social worker takes notes as well, who shakes his head every once in a while as I retell Barbie’s story. I tell them every sickening word how her mother was there as he beat the shit out of Barbie not even attempting to stop him. How she escaped out the window to hide her little brother only to have that sick jerk chase her down.
When we are done I storm out past Barbie’s room, I must have caught someone’s attention because Third is on my heels.
“Where are you going?” he asks shortly.
“Oh so we are friends now?” I spin facing him. I catch him off guard and he stumbles backwards. I want to punch him in the face, my hands clench shut. I open and close them at my sides, challenging him. When he doesn’t say anything. “That’s what I thought.” I turn and push through the double doors that brought me here. “You need me to drive?” Third jogs up behind me a little out of breath.
We drive in silence, it hits me like a punch to my gut when Third turns down her road, he knows where she lives. He has had a glimpse into her world. While I was too worried about what she was doing to mine to even be a decent enough human being to get to know hers. I could have prevented this. I could have stopped this from happening. I always just assumed I knew her, what she was about, how wrong I was. I don’t know what I expected? That she was a troubled girl, who had a worried family, a mother who was at her wits’ end, trying to get her daughter to clean up her act.
I realize when Third turns the van onto the narrow road. I have never been to this part of town. In seventeen years I have never stepped foot on this road. I drove past it, maybe glanced over, but never stopped. The houses are packed together painted various shades of bright colors trying to be something they are not. Third stops the van in front of what must be Barbie’s house, it is sadder than the others. No bright paint or a plastic flamingo in the yard, no trying here just peeling gray paint, a lawn that grows in small limping patches of weeds. The windows are dark. No one is here of course the police tried it first I am sure.
I get out slamming my car door shut, somewhere in the distance a car alarm is going off and music of a party that is going on drift down the street. I walk through the open gate that barely hanging on its last hinge. I stand in front of the door.
“No one is here.” Third states the obvious. I run my hands through my hair in frustration. What did I think that they would be home, and then what invite me in for some milk and cookies, and I would pound the shit out of this guy? The person who broke her, the strongest person I know.
Tears burn at my eyes threatening to spill over. “Let’s go around back,” Third suggests. I follow; I don’t have a better plan. Broken brick steps lead up to the back door, the glass door is flung open it is missing a pang of glass. Third pushes the door open and I follow him into the kitchen. Something crushes under my foot in the dark. Lights blind me temporarily “What the hell,” Third looks around. He doesn’t know what happened and I didn’t offer up any information. Barbie can tell him. I am done betraying her. A chair lies toppled over, drawers thrown about the room, and glass is shattered on the floor. A streak of blood runs down the cabinets to the floor. Third looks at me for an explanation but I don’t offer it to him. I step around him and walk down the dark hallway. Blood is smeared down the walls. My stomach lurches.
***
Over the next few days cops and my new social worker come through the revolving door that is now my life. I refuse to talk to any of them. I was already informed that Everett was placed in state housing. I go ballistic and despite the IV that I rip out and the broken ribs, I try to kill someone, anyone who is close enough. They took my poor baby and put him in a home filled with messed-up kids. He must be so scared not understanding why I have not come to get him. Someone sticks a needle in my arm and I float in and out of blackness. When I come to, a guard is posted outside my door in case I try to run or kill someone. Roxie is lying in my bed trailing her finger over my nose.
“Hi, Chica,” I crumble into her arms and cry. She holds me until I cried myself dry.
Third and Roxie take turns staying by my side. I refuse to see Dylan, he betrayed me. I can never trust him. I hate him.
Chapter 32.
Broken
I am staring up at my ceiling each picture a stab at my heart. I was sent home, threatened if I didn’t leave my mother would have security escort me out of the hospital. I am supposed to be getting some sleep but how can I lie here, in my comfortable bed, in my comfortable life safe and sound, when she is out there, each breath she takes hurting her. My chest feels like it is about to split open with the thought of her. I answer each call on the first ring, but hang up the moment it is not my mother or Third with information. Katie must have given up, because my phone lays silent on my chest.
A car door shuts. I roll over on my side staring at the blue walls. I think about going over to the barn and working more on the room. But I don’t see the point.
I must have dozed off because my mom is shaking me awake. I sit up straight, “Is she okay?” I practically leap out of my skin.
“She is okay…in a lot of pain.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “She is one tough kid. She refuses anything more than aspirin for the pain.” Of course she is. Why would she use something to help dull the pain? She wants to remember each and every feeling. It is what will fuel her through the fight.
I flop back down against my pillow and cover my eyes with my arm, “Has she said anything? Has she asked about me? Does she want to see me?” I hate myself for being so selfish and thinking about myself.
“No.” She laughs before she says, “She is something else, has quite a mouth on her. She almost gave poor Doctor Grant a heart attack…. Something about giving his wife a run for her money,” she lets out a nervous laugh. I drop my arm and look at my mother, she still wears the teal scrubs from last night’s shift, her brown hair falls out of the messy ponytail it is in and she bites at her lip nervously.
“Mom, what is it?” she stands and walks over to the pictures I have hung, and looks at a picture of me at the fifth grade science fair holding a second-place ribbon. First place went to Jenny she made a volcano. That was the year Grams got sick and stopped taking pictures.
“There are going to be some rules that are going to be in place, one toe out of line and I am pulling the plug on this,” she turns in my direction.
Confusion must read on my face. “I am not stupid. I know what might happen. Having two teenagers with raging hormones under the same roof.”
I sit up all the way now. “Mom?”
“And you are going to have to move down to the basement.”
Before she can finish anymore, I have crossed the room and start hugging her. She is so much smaller than me. She laughs and pushes me off her.
“I am serious, if I catch you in her room… Or her in your room she will have to go. I cannot risk my family’s well-being no matter how much I want to help.” She sighs.
“Mom you don’t have to worry I have a girlfriend.” Or at least I did. She doesn’t seem convinced. “Mom I am with Katie. Remember?” she sighs and shakes her head.
“Fine,” I hug her again picking her up off her feet and spin her in a circle. “This is not going to be easy, there or a lot of…issues we are going to have to deal with…” She bites at her lip again when I set her back down.
“Mom,” she looks at me her eyes matching my own. “Thanks.”
She smiles. “Don’t thank me yet. Now clean your room,” she wrinkles her nose at me. “Your father went to go get Everett.”
Third comes over and helps me move a few boxes of clothes and a couple of books down to the basement. Ever
ything else I leave. “You are going to leave you Star Wars Lego set for the kid to destroy!” Third carefully examines the Death Star.
I shrug, “What am I going to do with it.”
He gapes at me. I sit down on my bed, I need to do this. This is going to be harder than it seems. Just a few words, but they are caught in my throat “Third…I…I am sorry” I look up at him, his round fat checks blow in and out.
“It’s cool,” he finally says.
“No, no it was not cool I was a shitty friend. Hell, I have been a shitty friend for a while. I am sorry man.”
It is the beginning of a very long list of “I am sorry” that I will be giving out. Next is Katie. If I want things to work out I have to fix things with her. “Can I ask you a favor? Will you drive me over to Katie’s?”
Third sighs shaking his head, “Sure.”
Chapter 33.
Time
I don’t know how long I have been sitting here like this, hunched over staring at the chipped nail polish on my hand. I don’t move when the door to my room opens, another nurse to check on me and take my vitals, to look at me with sympathy and shake her head. I hate them. I hate every one of them. I hate Dylan for betraying me, for making me feel something other than numb. The shuffle of white nurse shoes comes into focus.
“Barbie?” I know her voice it is the nurse who has come in repeatedly to take care of me, insisting I talk. She wears his face and I hate her for that. “Barbie I have come to talk to you,” she says her voice soft, a whisper. I hate her.
“Dylan already spoke enough for me, don’t you think?” I snap. Pain shoots through me with the utterance of my words. She ignores my jab at her son.
“I came to talk to you about a proposition,” she says her voice stronger, business-like. I look at her now in the face, her eyes the same dark brown like his. I want to rake my fingers down her face. I hate her. I hate him.