by John Goode
So I did what any good boyfriend would do. I called Robbie’s mom and told her that he’d had an episode, but he was doing okay for now.
Why does this make me a good boyfriend? I’m glad you asked. Because it means his mom is going to call him and demand to know how he is, giving me time to sneak into the ICU and try to pull a Crash on the head nurse. See, I know Robbie well enough to know that his panic comes from two things—lack of control and fear of the unknown. Lack of control because there’s nothing he can do for this lady, and fear of the unknown because he doesn’t know how bad she is or what’s going on in here.
Now, many a guy has called out “God” during sex, but this does not give me the ability to heal the sick.
Oh, come on, that was funny.
But I can charm a middle-aged nurse who’s working a twelve-hour shift into giving me some information on my poor, injured friend who I just found out about and rushed to Foster to see.
“You’re a friend of Linda?” asked the lady, who I assumed did a killer summer stock version of Nurse Ratched in her spare time.
I gave her an awww shucks grin and nodded. “I am; is she okay?”
Instead of answering, she just stared at me like I was a new life form or something.
“I mean, I know she was in a car accident, but I don’t know how bad it was.”
More silence.
“And I was just curious how she was doing.”
“Friends from where?”
Yeah, I hadn’t really researched the role of long-lost friend well enough to, you know, actually think of where I might know her from. So I winged it.
“I was her son’s… coach?” Dammit, didn’t mean for that to be a question.
“Kyle doesn’t play sports” was her response.
Fuck.
“I meant, like, academic coach.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So you’re telling me that you were, what? Some kind of tutor?”
In improv, the worst thing you can do is say no. Any suggestion has to be run with; the correct response is “Yes, and….”
“Yes, and I kept in touch after he went to college.”
“Her son. Kyle. Needed a tutor?”
She asked that like I had suggested cricket was superior to baseball.
“Well… not needed, but you know how teens are. It can be a challenge to get them to study.”
Her expression got even darker, and I had a feeling my improv wasn’t working.
“You do know that Kyle got a full ride to UC Berkeley based solely on his grades, right?”
I nodded. “Of course. We were very proud of him.”
“And that for the most part was widely considered one of the smartest boys in town.”
I did not know that.
“Well, yes, but….”
“And that he absolutely adored going to school and studying?”
Who was this lady? President of the Kyle fan club? Jeez, just marry him already!
“So you’re not going to tell me how she’s doing?”
“You’re lucky I’m not calling security.”
And with that I turned tail and went back to the waiting room.
It was official. I hated Foster, Texas.
Robbie
I MUST have fallen asleep, because when I woke up a girl who looked a lot like Jennifer but with shorter hair was standing in front of me.
“Don’t you worry that some girl is going to come in and throw a bucket of water on you?”
“Don’t you worry that with a haircut that butch, people will think you’re Mandy Moore?”
Her face broke out in a smile. “Fuck you very much.”
I got up and opened my arms to the first person in Foster who had actually tried to be my friend. “Rapunzel, what happened to all your beautiful hair?” I asked once the hugging was out of the way.
“Oh, you know, I cut it off and sold it for a watch chain for Josh, but turns out he sold his watch for a comb, so we were both screwed.”
“You know, you keep spouting sass off like that, people might think you’ve read a book or something.”
She cocked her head. “Mandy Moore doesn’t read?”
“God, I hate you,” I said with no emotion whatsoever.
“Right back at you, Mary.”
There was the sound of either a grizzly bear reciting poetry or a Harley Davidson badly in need of a tune up next to us. We looked over and Seb was halfway on one of the waiting room chairs, snoring his ass off and drooling a little, not that I really looked.
“You brought a bodyguard with you?” she asked.
Pulling out my phone, I snapped a quick blackmail pic. That should be good to make him do the dishes or do the laundry when we got back home. “That’s one way of referring to him,” I said, trying not to smile.
“Oh my God, Robbie got his groove on!” she almost yelled, waking Sebastian up.
“Kelly Clarkson!” he shouted, falling out of his chair.
Jennifer glanced over at me with a silent question of what that meant. I just shrugged. “Honey, wake up,” I said pleasantly as he pulled himself off the floor.
“I mean… I’m good,” he said, brushing himself off and looking around, confused. “Is someone sick?” he asked, realizing we were in a hospital.
“Texas,” I hissed, slapping his arm real quick.
“Right.” He shook his head, trying to wake all the way up. Then he noticed Jennifer. “Um, hi?”
“Jennifer, this is Sebastian. Sebastian, this is Jennifer.” They shook hands and I added, “She’s the only person I might have saved if the town was overrun by dead people or Republicans.” I paused. “Wait. I think it has been. Never mind.” I looked at her. “You’re on your own.”
“Ignore him,” she advised Sebastian. “Everyone with a brain does.”
“And yet you don’t.” I pretended to ponder. “Another point proving you’re Mandy Moore.”
“She’s Mandy Moore?” Seb asked.
“Better than Kelly Clarkson,” she mumbled and laughed.
I forced myself not to react other than to ask, “What are you doing here?”
She sat and patted the chair next to her. “My dad said you were here when he had to throw Tyler out, so I ran over to keep you company.”
I sat down next to her. “So where is your moose?” I asked, looking around. “I mean, I thought everyone had a moose attached to their hip in this town.”
“Josh is at A&M, hopefully studying and not partying like I’m pretty sure he is. I drove straight home when my dad told me what had happened with Ms. Stilleno. I knew this was going to be a thing.”
“A thing is an understatement,” I said, feeling the ancient hatred I’d held for this town for so long begin to rekindle. “Only here could a redneck hold a woman hostage in ICU.”
“I’m sure there are stupid people everywhere. I mean, where do you come from?”
I flipped her off and felt the telltale signs of a nicotine fit coming on. “Come downstairs with me. I need to have a smoke, and all he’ll do is lecture me about how bad it is.”
As if on cue Sebastian said, not even looking up from his phone, “It’s bad for you and it gives you horrible breath, which minimizes my desire to kiss you.”
“You see?” I said, walking out with her. “I’ll be back,” I called to him.
“With horrible breath,” he shouted before the waiting room door closed.
“I like him,” she said as soon as the door shut. “How long?”
“Don’t start,” I said, pushing the elevator button. “You know how they say not to tell people about a pregnancy before the first trimester because… you know?” She nodded. “With gay men it’s like that with relationships. We try not to talk about it until a year passes or we buy a pet. So how is your lifelong dream to become Jill going?”
“I assume you’re using some archaic pop culture reference I’m too young to know, so I will say my lifelong dream to be Batgirl is going fine. I’m third in my class,
which is more impressive than it sounds since I’m one of only four girls in it. The book stuff sucks, but the physical stuff is so much fun I can’t believe I skipped gym all those times.”
“And Josh?” I asked as we walked outside and I lit up.
“He’s good,” she said, shaking her head when I offered her one. “He’s sitting out this year, which is called a redshirt year.” I looked at her, confused, and she said, “Don’t ask, I think it might be a Star Trek thing. But it’s so he can get comfortable with the team and all that, so he has a lot of spare time on his hands.”
“Uh-oh,” I said.
“Yeah. I’ve gotten no less than four videos from him in the past month. Only one was he actually wearing clothes.” I almost choked. “I wish I could say that it didn’t turn me on, but I can’t. He has a pretty ridiculous body.”
“I can’t believe I’m standing here listening to you tell me about your boyfriend’s sex tapes.”
“Well, one, it isn’t a tape unless you’re a Kardashian, and two, a lot of couples do it now. You’re telling me if that hunk of a man was away for a while and sent you a video of him showing off, you wouldn’t watch?”
“Shut up,” I said quickly, trying not to imagine it. Well, at least until I was alone….
“Exactly.”
I was going to say something else when a cab pulled up to the hospital and Kyle got out. He threw some money at the driver and began to sprint inside.
“Hey, Bueller!” I screamed, getting his attention.
He looked over at me, dropped his bag, ran to me, and gave me a hug.
“Tell me she’s all right,” he said, gripping me so hard I think he might have broken a rib.
I patted his head and said, “She’s okay for now. It’s going to be okay.”
Of course, I had no faith in those words, but I knew hearing them from time to time helped. He finally climbed off me and looked over at Jennifer. “I like your hair,” he said and hugged her.
“Thanks,” she said, hugging him back. “Where’s Brad?”
He pulled away. “I don’t know and I don’t care.” He glanced at me. “So, ICU?’
I nodded.
“Great.” He turned around and grabbed his bag and went inside.
“Fuck” was all Jennifer said.
“Here we go again.” I sighed, following him inside.
Kyle
I KNEW I was in Texas the second I stepped off the plane.
Don’t ask me how, because the Dallas airport looked just like the Oakland one I’d just flown out of, but I could tell. Maybe it was the fact that the people weren’t moving as fast as they were in California. Everyone here was just… moseying. That was it, moseying along. Like there was nowhere special they had to be, and even if they did, it wouldn’t matter because the state was, like, fifteen times too big for its own good.
Or maybe it was me.
Maybe it was the way I felt dragged down the second my foot touched Texas soil again. Like gravity was increased a thousandfold, and this time there would be no escaping. I tried to banish those thoughts as I attempted to rent a car, which wasn’t going to be easy. One of the better things I could say about Robbie’s gift was that it allowed me to get one of those credit cards that’s linked to an account. Not a bank card, but an actual credit card where the limit was, like, an amount of money you put aside, in case you tried to skip town without paying. I mean, it wasn’t much, but it did give me positive credit.
Which then opened the floodgate and released the credit kraken.
There were a ton of companies that just threw their credit cards at me because I was a college student, which of course meant I was stupid and broke. So the plus side was that I had everything I needed to rent a car. The minus, of course, was the lady looked at me like I was twelve asking if I could touch the stove or some shit. Finally she came back and said I would need to have an insured driver sign for me before she’d rent me a car. Of course, I wasn’t an insured driver because Brad was the one with the car, and I didn’t drive it. I told her that, and she smiled and shrugged.
This repeated at the next three car places before I realized it wasn’t happening. I would be stuck in Dallas forever if these people had their way.
So I took a cab to the bus station, grabbed a Greyhound, and said fuck it. Three hours later I was in Foster, sore, cranky, and just plain pissed off at the world. Another cab to the hospital and voilà, I was there. I almost ran past Robbie and Jennifer, whose first question was of course about Brad.
This was going to be trying.
I got upstairs to the ICU, where there was this hot-ass guy messing around with his phone in the waiting room. He glanced up at me and nodded. I nodded back and walked into the actual ICU. I recognized the nurse behind the desk, but her name escaped me. She was one of the hundreds of adults I had seen my whole life and never bothered to acknowledge growing up. Now I felt like shit because I’m sure she had a name, a family, a whole life, and all she was to me was random adult #4.
Didn’t matter, though; she knew me.
“Kyle,” she said like we were old friends. “You made it.”
“Um, I did,” I answered, not sure how to react to her. “Where’s my mom?”
“There are some things you should be told,” she warned, coming around the desk. “It’s complicated—”
“It’s not that complicated,” I said, cutting her off. “My mom is here. Which bay?” I began looking around, and there was only one alcove that had the curtains drawn and door closed. The other rooms were empty, so it was easy to tell from here. “Never mind, I got it.”
“Kyle, wait—” she called after me, but I had no time for this. I needed to see with my own eyes that my mom was all right. Well, not all right, but at least still breathing.
I opened the door and the room was dark, so I flipped the light switch on. There were two chairs in the room; each had a stranger in it watching TV. One looked my age, maybe a little older, military-short hair and a pretty decent build on him. The other guy was as old as my mom and looked like he was a friend of hers back in her party days. He had a faded Jim Morrison shirt on and a nasty-ass beard that looked like he was trying to impress someone.
I wasn’t impressed.
“Who the hell are you guys?” I asked, trying not to look over at the unconscious form of my mother in the bed. I wanted to do that alone, not in front of two assholes squatting in my mom’s room.
The older guy squinted at me and asked, “Kyle?”
Great. Everyone knows who I am today.
“Yeah, and you are?”
He got up, and I was struck by how skinny he was. Like beanpole skinny and tall. His jeans looked like they were worn in about a thousand miles ago, and his belt buckle let me know that he wanted to ride free or die. Yeah, this guy was a friend of my mom.
“You don’t recognize me?” he asked, catching me off guard, because had we met before?
“Should I?”
“Show some respect,” the kid said to me. Well, not kid, but he sure wasn’t an adult.
I glared at him and the guy snapped a quick, “Troy. Shut up.”
Troy looked away from me, but I could tell he was pissed.
“I’m Billy,” he said, like the name would have meaning.
“And I’m Kyle. Why are you in my mom’s room?”
Nurse NoName came running in. “Oh dear” was all she could manage.
“Calm down, little dude,” Billy said to me, instantly pissing me off.
“I’ll calm down when someone tells me why you two are in my mom’s fucking room.” I was losing it.
“Now I know your mom wouldn’t let you get away with that kind of language,” Billy admonished me.
And I’d had enough.
“Yeah, well, she can’t really say anything about it right now, can she? So tell me what you’re doing in here or get the fuck out.”
“Dude,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s me. Billy. She never told you about me?”<
br />
I turned around and looked at the nurse. “Please call security.”
She paused. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?” I almost screamed. “I’m her son and these guys are strangers.”
“I’m not a stranger,” I heard Billy say from behind me. I spun around and faced him. “I’m your dad.”
Please fasten your seat belts; the pilot has informed us there is some turbulence ahead.
Jennifer
BY THE time we got back to the ICU, there was yelling.
I took off toward the unit and called back to Robbie, “Call 911 and tell them we need my dad here now.”
When I got in there, Kyle was backing away from a rock that seemed to be carved into the shape of a boy. He had a crew cut with laced-up military boots and looked like he was about to go to town on Kyle.
If Kyle was scared, he didn’t show it at all.
Nurse Redmon was trying to keep the peace, but that ship had sailed a few minutes ago. Thank God there was no one else in there but Kyle’s mom, or it could have hurt someone. Beefy guy took another step toward Kyle and raised his fist as if to swing.
Which was when I kicked beefy guy’s knee to the left.
Not hard enough to snap it, though I wanted to—just enough to get his attention for a second and make him stop moving. He went down to a crouching position and glared up at me and snarled. Oddly I was completely calm in the moment. “Stay down,” I ordered in a voice that I wanted to sound like my dad but probably just sounded like a teenage girl being butch.
He started to stand up anyway, and I pulled the baton that was tucked in the back of my belt and flicked my wrist. It extended and locked into place with a satisfying snap that made Beefy pause.
“Stay. Down,” I said again.
I know it looks all Batgirl, but one of the first things they teach us is to keep a weapon that people can’t see on you. Some guys had ankle holsters, some carried butterfly knives. Me, I went with the Jennifer Lopez Out of Sight baton. Flat black handle with a stainless steel rod, it wasn’t only dangerous, but it looked completely badass too.
