Some Are Sicker Than Others

by Andrew Seaward

  “Right now.”

  “Alright, alright. Fuck me.” Dave cleared his throat and looked up at Angie. She looked liked a possessed woman in a need of an exorcism. “We had a match three weeks ago on Monday. It was all the way up in Estes Park.”

  “I know, I know, I was supposed to be there. But I couldn’t make it. Why? Did something happen? What happened?”

  “Well, that’s when the cops pulled us over—on our way up to Estes. I was driving the bus like I always do…you know, not speeding or driving erratically…just trying to get the girls to their game on time so they could win the state championship.”

  “You weren’t drinking were you?”

  “What? No, of course I wasn’t drinking.”

  “You promise?”

  “Yes. I promise.” That was actually the truth. He wasn’t drinking, at least not while he was driving. He did stop to smoke for a little bit, but that was only for the leg pain.

  “Well, then what happened?” she said, still holding onto his jacket, her fingers digging deeper and deeper into his forearm.

  “Well, next thing I know, I look up in the rearview mirror and the cops are flashing their lights and riding my ass probably no more than two feet behind me. So, I pull the bus over, get out, and that’s when the bastards grab me by the collar and slam me face down on top of the patrol car. I didn’t even do anything wrong. They start patting me down in front of all the girls, like, like I was some kind of criminal. One of ‘em even takes out his billy club and wedges it in underneath my chin. He was holding me in some kind of cop chokehold. He had me so tight I couldn’t even get my feet on the snow. Next thing I know, the walls start closing in, I can’t breathe, and everything’s going dark. Of course, my mentally challenged son, Larry, is watching all of this from the front seat of the school bus. He gets scared and runs out to protect me, and that’s when the bastards shoot him with a fucking Taser gun!”

  “Your son?”

  “Yeah. Larry.”

  “They shot him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They shot your son?”

  “Yeah. He was only trying to protect me and they shot him. The fucking bastards shot my Larry.”

  “Oh my God.” Angie gasped. She seemed to be going along with it. For now, he figured it’d be best if he left the whole crack thing out. There was no need to get her even more excited. She already looked like she was about to have a fucking coronary.

  “Well, what about the girls,” she said, tugging again at his jacket, her eyes as bright as those supernovas he’d lectured about in his Earth Science class. “Are they okay? Did they get hurt?”

  “No, no, they’re fine,” Dave said, waving his hand reassuringly. “All the girls are just fine. The parents came, picked ‘em up, and took ‘em all back to Boulder. Hell, if anything, it probably gave ‘em a good story to gossip to their little girlfriends about.”

  Angie let out a deep sigh. She seemed to be relaxing. She eased back down on the picnic table and released the death grip around Dave’s forearm. “So everyone’s fine? No one’s hurt. Sarah, the girls, they’re all back in Boulder, right?”

  “Yes, yes, they’re fine, I promise. I would never let anything happen to those girls. I love them like they’re my own daughters.”

  Angie closed her eyes and smiled. That seemed to appease her. She let out another deep sigh then pushed her bangs back from her forehead. “Oh my God, you had me scared for a minute. I thought I was gonna have a panic attack or something.”

  “Yeah me too.”

  “Well, thank goodness everyone’s okay.”

  “Well, almost everyone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You forgot about me. I’m the real victim of this whole scenario. You know I had to spend three weeks in a fucking prison?”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. And it’s all because of my wife. She did this to me. She called the police. She had me arrested. She put everyone’s life on that bus in danger…including your daughter’s. I mean, if you think about it, your daughter’s pretty damn lucky I’m such a good driver. The way those cops flew up on me like that”—Dave let out a whistle—“shit, almost anyone else would’ve freaked out and overcorrected. But not me. I’m as cool as a cucumber.” Dave stuck out his hand and laid it flat in front of him. “You see that? Steady as a fucking mountain.”

  Angie shook her head and looked away from him, squeezing her fists and gnashing her teeth together. Dave could actually hear the grinding sound from where he was sitting—it sounded like a bone saw cutting through a fresh cadaver.

  “You’re right,” she said. “I can’t believe what those cops did to you wasn’t illegal. I mean, what if they caused an accident? What if they made you panic? Sarah could’ve gotten hurt. She could’ve ended up in the hospital.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “How could they do that? How could they be so reckless? Cops can’t just pull someone over because they feel like it, can they?”

  Finally, Dave thought. This was what he’d been waiting for. Everything was falling into place, just as he’d planned it. “Actually, no, they can’t.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out his lawyer’s information, and slapped it on the picnic table. “I found this lawyer in the phone book. His name is Barry Weinstein. Supposedly, he’s one of the best DUI case lawyers in all of Colorado.”

  “Oh wait, I know him,” Angie said, looking down at the advertisement, her eyes mesmerized by the picture of Weinstein dressed up as Benjamin Franklin. “I remember seeing his commercials on television. He’s ‘The Patriot’ right?”

  “Yep. You got it. Now, he told me that the cops can’t just pull you over without what’s called reasonable suspicion, meaning they have to witness you doing something suspicious before they can pull you over. And he says that since I wasn’t speeding or swerving or driving erratically, we can prove the cops didn’t have reasonable suspicion and the case can be dismissed and I can get the hell out of here.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, all I gotta do is prove to the judge that I wasn’t driving erratically, which shouldn’t be too tough. I mean, after all, I got a whole bus full of witnesses, right?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  Angie studied the advertisement for a few more seconds. Was she gonna take the bait? Was she gonna go for it?

  “Oh wait a minute,” she said, her eyes growing bigger. “So, that’s what you meant when you said Sarah could help you?”

  Dave closed his eyes and nodded slowly with satisfaction. “Yep. That’s it. Now, do you get it?”

  “Yes, I get it. So, you just need Sarah to tell them that you weren’t speeding?”

  “That’s it. Weinstein says Sarah’s the best chance I have at getting my sentence commuted. He says her testimony could even clear my record.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep. All we gotta do is get her to call up Weinstein and he’ll do the rest. Easy cheesy.”

  Angie studied the advertisement for a few seconds longer.

  “So, what do you think?” Dave said, holding his breath in anticipation. “You think you can help? You think you can call up Sarah?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m a little bit worried.”

  “About what?”

  “Well, we haven’t spoken in so long. What if she doesn’t wanna talk to me?”

  “What do you mean? Of course, she’d wanna talk to you. You’re her mother. She’s probably worried sick about you.”

  “I know but, I’ve just let her down so many times. I mean, I haven’t been there for her. And now look at me. Look at where I am. I’m stuck in this awful rehab.”

  “Well this is your chance to make things better. This is your chance to reconnect with your daughter. You said it yourself…good omen, remember? There has to be a reason we both ended up here. And I think this is it. I think we found it. I can’t do this alone, Angie. I need you to help me.”

  Angie looked up at him
with big blue hope-filled eyeballs. “You need me?” she said.

  “Yes. I need you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, what?”

  “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  “Yes, yes! Oh thank you, thank you! You don’t know how much this means to me, Angie. You’re a lifesaver.” Dave leaned in and threw his arms around her then gave her a big smooch on the cheek, causing her to shy away like a little schoolgirl. “So, do you have her number?” he said, eyeing the payphone to see if anyone was on it, which no one was at the moment.

  “Yeah, I do. I have it memorized.”

  “Great. Can we call her?”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  Dave took Angie’s hand and shot up from the table. He went right for the payphone with Angie in tow behind him.

  “You got a quarter?” he said, as he began patting his pockets.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Shit.” Dave slammed his fist against the top of the payphone. “Wait, hold on a minute.” He limped across the patio to the far side picnic tables where a group of patients were playing another game of Monopoly. “Does anyone have a quarter?” he said, as nicely as possible, hoping to God someone would have the decency to help them.

  The table just looked at him like he was crazy then shook their heads and went back to their stupid board game. “Please,” Dave said, walking towards them, his hands out in front of him like a beggar, “we need a quarter. It’s an emergency.”

  Some muscle-bound, bald guy looked up at him and started laughing. He looked like Mr. Clean, with tattoos on his neck and earrings in each earlobe.

  “What’s so funny?” Dave said, narrowing his eyes at him, his fists clenched, his heart pounding.

  “You can’t use the phones right now.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too late.”

  “But it’s an emergency.”

  “It’s the rules.”

  “Fuck the rules.”

  “What?”

  “I said fuck the rules.”

  Mr. Clean took a deep breath and stood up slowly, folding his arms across his fat wrestler’s belly. He was about to walk over to Dave when his buddy grabbed him and said, “don’t worry about it, Wayne. It’s not worth it.”

  “Yeah, Wayne,” Dave mocked. “It’s not worth it. Keep playing your little board game over there and mind your own fucking business.”

  Angie grabbed the back of Dave’s jacket. “It’s alright,” she said, tugging him over. “Never mind them. I found one. I found a quarter.”

  Dave waited for Mr. Clean to sit back down at the table then turned away and watched as Angie punched in the keys on the keypad. His heart was beating like a hammer, knocking the blood against the walls of his corroded arteries. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. His plan was coming together perfectly.

  “Hello? Sarah?”

  Dave’s heart skipped a beat and his stomach fluttered. Goose bumps like spiders scurried up and down his forearms.

  “Hey sweetie, it’s mommy. I need you to call me back as soon as possible—”

  Fuck. It was just her voice mail. Where the hell was this girl? Why wasn’t she answering?

  “It is very important that we speak. I am still up here at this place in the mountains and I just met your volleyball coach, Coach Dave. He’s here too and he needs your help. He says you were on the school bus the night he got pulled over. He says you can testify and tell the police what really happened. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was just driving. His wife set him up. She had him arrested. Please call me back as soon as possible. We really, really need your help. You are Dave’s only chance. The number here is”—Angie read the number listed above the keypad then said, “Please call as soon as you can, sweetie. I’ll try you again in a few hours. And don’t worry. Everything’s gonna be okay. I love you. Hugs and kisses, hopes and wishes, may all our dreams come to fruition. I love you honey. I love you so very much.”

  As Angie hung up the phone, her eyes began to moisten. She turned toward Dave with a look of pain-filled hopefulness.

  “Where is she?” Dave said. “Why isn’t she answering?”

  “It’s that son of a bitch, Bill. He’s not letting her answer. I just know it.”

  “Well, what are we gonna do? I need to talk to her. She’s my only way out of here.”

  “I know, Dave, I know. Don’t worry. We’ll get a hold of her.”

  “How?”

  “She’ll call back, won’t she?”

  “I don’t know, you tell me. You’re her mother.”

  Angie brought her hands to her eyes. She tried to wipe away the tears, but more kept coming. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she crying? It wasn’t that emotional, was it? It was just a damn voice mail.

  “It’s alright,” Dave said, trying to soothe her, cautiously placing one hand on her shoulder. “There’s no need to cry. You’re right, I’m sure she’ll call back. You’re her mother. She loves you very much. Heck, she told me so.”

  “Really?” Angie looked up at him. Her lips were trembling, her eyes were all puffy, and her mascara was running. “She told you she loves me?”

  “Well, yeah.” Dave’s voiced cracked. He was lying. Sarah never talked about her mom, and if she did, he wasn’t really listening. “She talks about you all the time,” he said, looking away from her, unable to look directly into those big, hope-filled pupils. “About how wonderful you are as a mother…how she misses her time with you and wishes you were happy.”

  “She said all that?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

  “Oh thank you, Dave. Thank you for telling me that. It means so much to me.”

  Angie smiled and buried her head against Dave’s shoulder. Dave allowed it and took a step closer, wrapping his arms around her body. “It’s alright,” he said, as he kissed her forehead then began rubbing her back in small circles. “Everything’s gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. Sarah will call back and everything will go back to normal. I’ll get out of here and clear my record and you’ll get to see your daughter again once you get out of here.”

  “You mean that, Dave?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’ll get to see Sarah again?”

  “Of course you will.”

  “Oh thank you so much, Dave. This is unbelievable. I don’t know why your wife would cheat on you. You seem like such a selfless individual.”

  Yeah, Dave thought. She was right. He was selfless. Why couldn’t Cheryl see that? This woman obviously got it. He wasn’t just using this woman…he was helping her. He was reconnecting a mother with her daughter. If that wasn’t selfless, then he didn’t know the definition. He was basically a martyr, a regular Mother Theresa.

  He wrapped his arms tighter around Angie, feeling those double D’s pressed up against him. She felt so good, so warm, so soft, and so beautiful. It had been a long time since he held a woman like this, so sexy and so curvy. He kissed her again, this time more deeply, then released her and moved a loose strand of hair back from her forehead. “Don’t worry, Angie,” he said. “We’ll get through this. You, me, Sarah, and Larry…one day we’ll all be a happy family.”

  Chapter 26

  The Sexy Trailer

  DAY five. Finally, Monty was getting out of here. About time, too. He was sick of this facility—sick of detox, sick of this trailer, sick of Benzos, and sick of hearing Dexter’s sappy lectures. He couldn’t wait to get back home, back to his apartment, back to his booze, and back to his mission. He could almost feel the scotch already, warming the inside of his stomach, numbing the pain, dissolving the memories, and spinning its warm, nurturing cocoon around him. All he had to do now was go to the main house and check out his wallet. That health savings card in there was his only ticket to pure, alcohol-infused oblivion. He just hoped to God Dexter wouldn’t give him any problems. He knew the guy wa
s going to try and get him to stay, but legally he couldn’t make him, right? Five days detox—that’s all he owed them. It was spelled out in plain ink on the commitment forms right here in his pocket.

  He took a deep breath then pushed himself up from the mattress, grabbed his black jacket and slipped into his shoes. Before opening the door, he flipped off the light switch then zipped up his jacket and walked out into the hall.

  When he got to the nurse’s station, he realized the place was empty and Jill, the nurse, was nowhere to be found. He checked the clock above the water fountain. It was almost ten-thirty, which meant she was probably over at the main house doling out the daily morning medication. Narrowing his eyes, he proceeded towards the exit, but just as he got to the door, he heard the sound of whispers coming from somewhere in the back room. He stopped, cocked his head, and pivoted towards the reception counter and saw the faint outline of two figures bobbing up and down behind the glass window.

  He pushed down his anxiety and crept slowly towards the counter, the hairs on his neck standing on end like the bristles of a scrub brush. “Hello?” he said, as he got closer to the window, his heart like a machine gun rattling off shells against his sternum. “Is someone there?”

  The shadows froze in straight, erect postures, like inmates getting caught by the spotlight of a prison tower.

  “Hello?”

  When he got to the window, he placed his hands on the counter, then took a deep breath and stood on his tiptoes. “Hello? Is someone there?”

  The shadows disappeared, but the glass window flung open and Dave appeared on the other side grinning like a mischievous teenager. “Monty?”

  “Dave?”

  “I thought that was you, kid. God damn, you scared the hell out of us. We thought you were the nurse.”

  “Dave, what the—what are you doing over here?”

  “Who is it, Dave?” a woman whispered from behind the counter, her head concealed by Dave’s scarred appendage.

  “It’s okay Angie, it’s just Monty.”

  “Who?”

  “Monty. He’s my friend. It’s alright, he’s cool. He’s stuck here just like we are.”