Noggin

by Whaley, John Corey

  She never had a chance to start freaking out again because we were both laughing too hard. The tears, this time, were running down my face and neck, and I was pretending that they were all from the laughing, but I’m pretty sure some of them were from something else. No one else ever would’ve reacted that way. No other girl in the world would’ve gone so quickly from wanting to wreck her car and die to laughing as loudly as she laughed that night. And hers was a loud, contagious laugh that surprised you at first, caught you right off guard and made it impossible for you to even consider not joining in.

  I wanted to hear it. I wanted to make her laugh again, and I didn’t really care if it meant I’d have to see her cry a little too. I felt like seeing her cry would only prove to me what I thought was the absolute truth. Then I’d know she’d been waiting for me. Maybe not before, maybe not exactly the way I’d have hoped, but she’d cry and laugh and I’d know my death wasn’t the end of us after all.

  Before Hatton got to my house that night, I walked into the living room and caught my mom watching a news show on mute and crying. I did not want to see her cry. No one ever wants to see their mother crying. I’d seen it plenty—back when I was dying, of course, and now again that I was back. It still never got easier, though. My mom was always very in control. Not cold, just together, I guess. She was always the one to keep her cool in an emergency when everyone else would be coming unglued. So to see her not in control was pretty terrifying. I sat down beside her and didn’t say anything, just looked over at the TV screen and saw my face.

  It was the same photo they’d been using for a month—a school picture from before I got sick. I had on this blue shirt, and it really bothered me that they kept using this photo because it reminded me of how great my hair used to be. Well, maybe not great but the way I liked it. It was sort of shaggy, I guess. Not curly but wavy enough to flip up in the front, right above my eyes, and jut out a little over each ear. And that smile I had. I looked so dumb. With no teeth showing, just this smirk like I didn’t have a care in the world, like I didn’t know it was all about to change.

  “They just won’t let up, will they?” I said to Mom.

  “I thought I’d get used to it by now,” she said, never averting her eyes from the screen.

  “Yeah. Well, they’ll eventually run out of things to talk about, I guess. What’s going on today?”

  “There’s this group of people in Florida saying you and Lawrence could be the second coming.”

  “The second coming? Of Jesus? Like we’re both Jesus? That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “They’ve been holding up pictures of you two and having prayer meetings, and they claim all these people have been healed since you came back.”

  “I haven’t healed one person, Mom. Promise.” I held my hands up in surrender, and this made her laugh.

  She paused for a minute and turned to look at me. She reached over, smiled a little, and tugged at a clump of hair from the side of my head.

  “It’s growing out pretty fast, yeah?” she asked.

  “I guess so. I’m never cutting it. Ever.”

  “Hippie,” she said.

  “Yep. That’s me.”

  “Travis? Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  “Of what?”

  “Are you afraid it’s all a dream? Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I have to go make sure you’re still in your room.”

  “Creepy,” I said. I was about to cry, so humor was my only defense.

  “And when you were gone . . .” She paused. She was about to lose it. I thought about bailing, but Jeremy Pratt’s heart wouldn’t let me. “No. It’s too embarrassing.”

  “Please,” I said. “Tell me.”

  “When you were gone, we used to keep your door closed and any time I walked by it, I’d knock and I’d wait for you to open it. It sounds so stupid now. I know it does. But once I started doing it, I couldn’t stop. I’d just give it a little knock, wait a few seconds, and then go about my day.”

  “That’s pretty sweet, Mom.”

  It wasn’t sweet. It was the saddest thing I’d ever heard. I wanted to go up and shut myself in my room so she could knock on the door and see me open it a million times. It was so easy to forget how many days they’d all spent without me. I can’t imagine going that long without seeing her or Dad. I can’t imagine not hearing their voices. I wonder if they ever forgot what my face looked like, if maybe they had to get photos out any time they felt like they were starting to forget me.

  “Yeah, well. You’re back, and I’m not about to waste your whole life whining about almost losing you.”

  “Let me lay hands on you, child,” I said in a deep voice. “I’ll heal the pain away.”

  She took a throw pillow from the couch and hit my arms with it as I frantically waved them toward her.

  “Would you please quit watching the news now?” I asked, standing up.

  “Yes. Good idea. Want to watch reality shows with me?”

  “Over my dead bodies, Mom.”

  Hatton showed up a few minutes later, and we went up to my room. Dad was working late again, something he’d been doing pretty regularly since I’d gotten back. He was more important now, in charge of a lot of people at the company. All I knew is he always had some long story to tell me about someone I didn’t know screwing something up at work.

  “So what’s the plan?” Hatton asked, meddling around with stuff on my dresser.

  “We’ve got to go find her.”

  “This sounds kind of dangerous.”

  “We aren’t gonna kidnap her. I just want to find her and talk to her.”

  “Where’s all your stuff? This looks like a hotel room.”

  “They got rid of it.”

  “Like, everything?”

  “As far as I can tell.”

  “Weird.”

  “Very. We had to go buy me new clothes, and they keep asking me if I need other stuff, but I’m not sure where to start.”

  “What was your old room like?” he asked.

  “It was a mess. I had movie posters all over the walls and stacks of books and magazines in that corner over there. I’m not sure I could re-create it if I tried.”

  “I think there’s a dead hamster somewhere in my room. So yours sounds nice.”

  “You think, Hatton?”

  “All I know is we had a hamster, and then we didn’t have a hamster, and there’s a pretty big pile of clothes and shit by my closet.”

  “Isn’t your dad a vet?”

  “Yeah. Don’t tell him. He thinks we buried it in the backyard.”

  I shook my head in disbelief, hoping Hatton didn’t have any other pets.

  “So . . . Cate,” he said. “How do we find her? Do you know where she lives now?”

  “I know she’s in Springside. And I know she lives with Turner. But that’s about it.”

  “We need your computer.”

  “Over there.” I pointed toward the desk by the window.

  “You got a Facebook page?” he asked.

  “No. Deleted it before I left. Didn’t really think I’d need it again.”

  “What? How do you stalk people? I mean, how do you keep up with people?”

  “Kyle gave me his password a few weeks ago.”

  “Okay. Well, we don’t have to do it now, but you need to get a new page soon or I can’t be your friend anymore.”

  “Deal.”

  I forgot to tell you about getting my computer back. Dad said he couldn’t bring himself to get rid of it, said he thought he’d be brave enough one day to open it up and see if I’d left anything interesting behind. Thank God that didn’t happen because between you, me, and every other teenage boy in the world, you do not want your mom or dad going through your computer. Anyway, the night I first got back home from Denver, Dad walked into my room holding the gray Dell laptop and set it down on my desk. When he left the room, I opene
d it up, ready to find out everything I could about all the things that had happened while I was gone.

  Only I’d deleted my account just before I died. Aside from getting tired of “Get well soon, Travis” posts, I didn’t want to risk leaving behind one of those creepy-dead-guy pages that people turn into virtual little memorials that never end. So then there I was with no account and no access to Kyle’s or Cate’s page. I did a Google search on their names, but nothing came up but a bunch of useless information about other Kyle Haglers and Cate Conroys from the past and present. It was torture.

  “This your computer from before?” Hatton asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s a dinosaur,” he said.

  “When I first turned it on, it took three days for the Windows Updates to install. I think it almost exploded.”

  “Okay, so first we get you a new computer and then a Facebook page. Priorities, you know,” he said, typing in Kyle’s password.

  “What would I do without you—”

  “Found her,” he interrupted. “She’s at Carrie’s OK Bar. It’s downtown.”

  “What the hell is Carrie’s OK Bar?”

  “It’s a karaoke bar. Travis, come on.”

  “Wait, how do you know she’s there?”

  “She checked in there about twenty minutes ago.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Oh. Right. Since you left, it’s become very important that we all constantly know each other’s thoughts, locations, and birthdays.”

  “That’s really stupid. Except for in this one very specific situation. I can’t go if her fiancé’s there, though. That would be too weird.”

  “He’s not.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because she put ‘Girls’ Night’ with about five exclamation points after it.”

  “Are people just asking to be murdered?”

  “Pretty much. So are we going?”

  “I don’t have a license or a car, Hatton. Remember?”

  “I’ve got a license.”

  “You have a license?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been sixteen since August. Mom’s just weird about her car. She’d rather cart me around everywhere than let me borrow the damn thing.”

  “Wait here. I’m gonna go do some groveling.”

  Mom was still on the couch doing what she always did on Friday nights—watching TV and eating a cup of reduced-sugar ice cream. Everything my mom bought, in my old and new lives, was somehow fat-free or sugar-free or some other something free or reduced enough for it not to taste completely terrible, but just right at that level under good or satisfying. And we were “off cow’s milk” because it “has no nutritional value anymore.” Whatever that means.

  “What’s up?” she said.

  “Nothing. Kind of bummed, I guess.”

  “Did Hatton leave?”

  “Nah. He’s upstairs on the computer.”

  “Then what’s the matter?”

  “It’s just that we have some friends who are hanging out downtown, and we don’t have a way to get there.”

  “He didn’t drive over?”

  “Nah. His mom’s weird about her car. I don’t know why—he’s a stellar driver.”

  “Stellar?”

  “Stellar. I’ve seen it. It’s like he’s been driving for decades.”

  “So you want the car, then?” She set her bowl down and straightened up a little, muting the TV.

  “Nah, it’s fine. I know that would make you uncomfortable.”

  “Do you want me to drive you downtown?”

  “I can’t be the kid whose mom drops him off,” I said.

  “Fine. Then just ask me for the car, Travis.”

  “Can we borrow the car?”

  “No. Are you crazy?”

  “Well, that wasn’t nice.”

  “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

  “Mom, please. I’ve been sitting in this house for weeks. I know you’re scared. I know you don’t want anything to happen to me, but you have to see this from my perspective a little bit.”

  “And what’s your perspective?” She crossed her arms.

  “That I am sixteen years old, and I want things to be the same way they were when I was sixteen the first time. I went out with my friends. You let me go out with Kyle and Cate all the time.”

  “I was scared then, too, you know?”

  “Yeah, well, what’s the good in being back if I’m just going to be stuck in one place all over again?”

  “That’s not fair, Travis.”

  “No, Mom, it’s not fair that every single time I wake up, I have to remind myself that you’re all different and that nothing will ever be the way it’s supposed to be again. You’re scared? I’m so scared. I’m scared that if something, at some point, doesn’t feel a little normal to me again, then I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

  “Travis, I—”

  “One night, Mom. One night to feel normal, like I wasn’t sick and I didn’t go away and I’m just a kid riding around and hanging out with his friends. Please.”

  “I want to see Hatton drive,” she said, standing up.

  “What?”

  “Go get him. I want to see him drive. Then maybe I’ll let you take the car.”

  Five minutes later we were in her car, in the driveway, with a visibly nervous Hatton behind the wheel. As Mom buckled her seatbelt in the passenger seat, Hatton looked back at me with his eyes opened really wide, like this was the scariest and most important moment of his life. I really hoped that wasn’t true. But I was scared too. I had to get downtown and we were running out of time. How long does someone stay in a karaoke bar anyway? Maybe she was already gone.

  “So, umm, where to?” Hatton asked. I loved this guy.

  “Hatton,” Mom began. “I want you to drive us to the Walgreens on Center Street, turn around in the parking lot, and drive back here. I’m not going to tell you how to drive, I’m just going to make sure you can.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, cranking the car.

  We weren’t even down our road yet when she started asking him about his glasses.

  “When’s the last time you updated your prescription?”

  “I think it was, like, three or four months ago,” he said.

  “And your mom can confirm this if I give her a call?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  This was ridiculous, but I kept my mouth shut and I let her keep interrogating. I wasn’t about to ruin our chances after getting this far. He eventually turned into the Walgreens, and Mom told him to pull into a parking spot and then back out of it. I think at that point she was just messing with us. But I didn’t laugh because she never once even cracked a half of a smile for the whole ride.

  When we got home and Hatton pulled all the way into the driveway, Mom turned back toward me and sighed. Her eyes were watered over and, without looking at him, she said, “Very good job, Hatton.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Travis,” she said. “If there is one single hiccup, if one tiny thing happens to you or Hatton tonight, I will live the rest of my life in complete and miserable regret. Do you hear me? You will ruin my life if you screw up. Hatton, do you hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Loud and clear.”

  “Be back by eleven. Text every thirty minutes, both of you, and you’ll be subject to a Breathalyzer and a drug test when you get home. I have access to these things, you know that, Travis.”

  She exchanged numbers with Hatton and hugged me a little too long in the driveway before letting us leave. Then she stood there watching us as we backed out, and I thought that maybe she’d still be there in that same spot when we got home. She’d have that same worried expression on her face, and she’d breathe this heavy sigh of relief when she saw me. That’s how it must have been when I was gone, I guess. Like she was holding her breath for five years.

  “I like her,” Hatton said as we made our way down my street. “She’s scary in tha
t sort of sexy-older-woman way.”

  “I will kill you. You pervert.”

  Since it was already after eight o’clock and there was plenty of Friday-night traffic, I was getting really worried that we’d missed our chance of seeing Cate. Add to that the thirty minutes it took to find parking downtown, and we ended up not walking up to Carrie’s OK until about nine o’clock. I was so worried that this had all been for nothing. But Hatton kept promising me otherwise, saying that no one in their twenties would leave a bar that early on a weekend. And, you know, it was just nice to be out of the house.

  “I’ve never been in a bar before,” I said as we got out of the car and started walking down the street.

  “Me neither. Do you think we look old enough to get in?”

  “No. Shit,” I said.

  “I have a plan. Stop worrying so much. Worry about what you’re gonna say to Cate instead.”

  There was a girl at the door with tattoos covering her arms all the way up to her shoulders. She had a lip ring and purple highlights, and I could tell without even asking him that Hatton had just fallen madly in love with her.

  “You got IDs?” she asked as we approached.

  “Boom,” Hatton said, handing her his driver’s license and my learner’s permit.

  “Yeah, okay,” she said, taking a quick look at each of them. “Have a nice night.”

  “No, look. We really need to go inside. Please?” Hatton clasped his hands together. “This is a matter of life and death.”

  “Are you being chased?” She was trying not to laugh.

  “Time, my dear. Time is chasing us. Well, it’s chasing my friend here. He’s running out of time. The woman he loves is in your fine establishment, and if he can’t see her tonight, then it may all be over. Forever.”

  “Did you really think this would get you in?”

  “No. But there’s something else.”

  “Sorry. Twenty-one and up.”

  “Look a little closer.” He pointed to the birth date on my ID.

  “Bullshit,” she said. “No way this is real.”

  Then Hatton leaned in and started whispering into her ear, and she looked over his shoulder and right at me. I knew what he’d done.

  “Hey, come here, kid,” she said.