“Of course.”
Joe sends me a text message.
How is everything?
Fine. I’m about to go swimming.
Who’s there?
Veronica. Don’t worry about me.
I shut off my phone. “Joe?” Veronica asks me.
“Yeah.”
“You tell him?”
“No. He’d stop me. He’s been threatening to send me away.”
“He won’t.” She looks down. “I’ll have to answer any question he asks me.”
I nod. I won’t tell her anything else. I’ll leave in two days. I’ll pack the car on Thursday night and sneak away on Friday. Veronica won’t even know I’m gone if I do the usual. She’ll think I’m playing video games when it’s time for her to go home. She’ll figure it out Saturday, and she’ll have to call Joe. He may fire her.
“Go swimming,” Veronica says. “Neither of us can be out here all day. I’ve got work to do.”
I jump into the pool. It’s a perfect day, and the water feels great. I swim lap after lap thinking I’m finally doing something, and I’m excited.
“What’s this?” I ask Veronica, picking up a package on the kitchen table. It has my name on it.
“It was on the porch this morning.”
I open the package and take out a gold necklace in the shape of a sideways eight. The words Best Friends run through the eight.
“Who’s it from?” Veronica asks.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s an infinity necklace,” she says. “If I had to guess, I’d say it is from Luna. She must’ve dropped it off when we were on the deck. You should thank her.”
I spin around and hurry to my room.
Luna answers on the first ring. “Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome.”
“I thought we could get together before you leave,” I say. “I’ll be leaving on Friday. I have information about my mom and dad.”
“I’ll come over tonight.”
“I’ll pick up a pizza.”
“No onions,” she says.
“See you later,” I say.
“Around seven,” she says.
Then I go into the bathroom and apply a dry bandage and new splint to my finger. It looks fine except the nail has fallen off.
I get busy with more important stuff. Dirty clothes are strewn all over the floor, and I can barely find a place to step without getting tangled up. I start picking up clothes and throwing them into a basket. I take the overfilled basket to the basement, throw the clothes into the washing machine, and add detergent. I twist the knob to start.
I’ll be all set to pack later, and my room won’t be dirty if Luna and I play video games or something.
Then I finish cleaning my room, dry my clothes and fold them, and play video games. I listen for the sound of Luna’s car, although she’s not coming for hours.
At five p.m., I drive to Nate’s Pizza and get dinner for Luna and me. It’s great not having to ask if I can go somewhere and do something. It’s great doing stuff by myself. It’s great when a girl you really like is coming to dinner. Maybe I should’ve gotten something better like steaks to grill. I’ve never grilled anything before, but I don’t have any worries.
On the way back, I stop at Spencer’s. Luna’s not coming over until seven. I probably should’ve waited to get pizza.
Spencer’s in the driveway, standing next to a pile of lumber. “Hey,” he says. His face is red, and he’s sweating. “How’s it going?”
“I have a date with Luna tonight,” I say. I love times when everything is going right. Not like when Ruby called the police. That was wrong.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“I picked up a pizza, and we’re going to have dinner and talk.”
“About what?”
“I’m not sure,” I say.
“Sounds like lots of fun,” he says in a deadpan voice. “Never done that.”
“Never done what?”
“Had pizza alone with a girl in my house. Talk.”
Then I ask him if he wants to take a road trip this weekend. “I found my mother,” I say. “I’m going to meet her.”
He can’t. He has to help his dad. “How about next weekend?”
“Maybe,” I say. But I can’t go then. Joe will be back from Belize. “I have information about my dad I’m going to check out on the way back.”
Spencer’s dad comes out from the garage and says hello to me. He tells Spencer to get back to work.
“We’re building a screened-in porch, and my dad wants this finished in a week for the open house my mom’s planning. She’s already made flyers advertising the business and inviting the public to stop by.”
“Why?”
“She’s expanding the business and hiring a couple of preschool teachers. Want to carry some stuff to the garage for me?”
I guess I can do that. It’s only five minutes after six.
Spencer heaves a couple of pieces of lumber onto his shoulder. Carrying a gallon of yellow paint and a bag, I follow. At a blooming rosebush, he turns around. The wood smacks me on the side of the head. I fall into the rosebush.
Spencer drops the lumber and rushes over to me. “I’m sorry! I didn’t realize you were right behind me.” He sticks out his hand, and I grab on to it. He pulls me out of the rosebush.
I look away. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” I touch the side of my head and don’t feel blood. “I’m not hurt.”
That’s the story of my life. I’m not hurt.
Spencer touches the side of my head. “You don’t have a lump, and there’s no bruising.” He examines my arms. Both have scratches and are bleeding from the thorns. “Come inside and wash the scratches.”
“I’ll do it at home,” I say. A few scratches are nothing. I take the paint into the garage and set it against the wall.
Six gallons later I’m done.
“Thank you,” Spencer says, placing the last two-by-four against the wall.
“It’s nothing,” I say.
He looks at my hand. “What happened to your finger?”
“It got caught in a door when I wasn’t paying attention or thinking.”
Spencer’s shaking his head. “What’s there to think about?”
I shrug. “It could happen to anybody,” I say. “Anybody. It doesn’t have anything to do with being painless. Remember that time you got your hand stuck in a car door? All you did was scream like a baby. When I got my hand stuck in the door, I just pushed it open.”
“You shut the door on my hand.”
“That was when we were kids,” I say. “And I was sorry as soon as you started screaming.”
When I pull into the drive at my house, Luna’s about to drive away. I turn off the motor and go over to her car. She opens her car door and gets out, the motor still running.
Chapter 28
“Sorry I’m late,” I say. The thing is, I’m not late. She’s a half hour early.
“I’m not staying,” she says. “Do you remember Derek?”
I shake my head. “I never heard of him.”
“He’s my ex-boyfriend from Texas. He’s in town. He wants to have dinner, and I think I should go.”
“You still care?”
“I’ll always care, but the thing is, I don’t want to regret not seeing him. I might always wonder about what might have been.”
“Okay,” I say. “I get it.”
“What do you get?”
I turn my head so I’m not looking her straight in the eyes. “I get to eat the whole pizza,” I say. “And you’ll probably be late if you don’t go right away.” I’m not going to look at her. No way. I can’t cry, but my face would scream, I care.
There’s no po
int in letting someone see you care when they don’t.
“We can get together another night,” she says. “What about Friday?”
“I’m leaving Friday,” I say.
“Sorry. I forgot. What about tomorrow night?”
“I can’t. I’m tired of being an afterthought.”
“Okay,” she says. “Be that way.” She gets into her car, shuts the door, and drives away.
I get the pizza out of the car. It’s probably cold anyway.
On the front door I find a note. I take it and go inside, slamming the door behind me. I sit on the floor for a moment holding the pizza in my lap and the note in my hand. I read it.
Sorry I’m leaving a note, but I can’t stay. It wouldn’t be right. Please understand and don’t be mad.
Don’t be mad. Why would I be mad about Luna not wanting to stay? Hurt’s the right word. Hurt like a hand slammed in a car door and you scream from the pain.
But I get the part about it “wouldn’t be right.” We’re different. She’ll probably live to be old and gray with children and grandchildren. I won’t.
I came close to almost having a girlfriend once. Spencer had fixed me up with a girl from his school, but then she backed out. I think somebody told her that I couldn’t feel pain.
I tear the note into small pieces. Then I tear the small pieces into tiny ones and drop them onto the kitchen counter. I know how to protect my body, but this is the only way I know to protect my heart. I can’t breathe too well. We had fun, I think.
I go into the bathroom, and my mouth falls open when a see a streak of blood running down the side of my head. If it wasn’t for the blood, I’d look normal. I wash it away.
I pick up the pieces of the note and stick them into a drawer in my bedroom. Part of me, maybe all of me, cares, and I want to keep the note as a reminder of pain.
Chapter 29
My body temperature is a hundred when I wake up. I’m feeling lousy, but I can’t find anything wrong with me on the outside. My smashed finger is swollen, but there’s no sign of infection. Heck, the door didn’t even break the skin. And my head just has a couple of scratches.
I head downstairs, and then Veronica calls. She’ll be late. She has a doctor’s appointment this morning.
At nine o’clock I go into the kitchen and eat a banana.
At nine thirty Joe calls, and I say I’m fine.
Yesterday he went scuba diving.
I’d like to go scuba diving. I get choked up. I have to calm down. Shutting my eyes, I imagine Luna’s next to me, and we’re on a beach in the Caribbean sitting at a table under a palm tree. Then we’re scuba diving. I open my eyes. This isn’t the time for dreaming. I have to make it through this conversation. I take a deep breath. “Sounds fun,” I say.
Today he’s going hiking.
I clear my throat. “Good thing I’m not there,” I say. It kind of hurts to know he didn’t want me to go with him. I would’ve said no, but he could’ve asked.
“What do you mean?”
I probably should hang up before I explode. “I’d have to stay behind, and I’d be bored. I’ve got a new game I’m going to play. It’s called Devastation.”
I’m a liar too. Maybe I am stupid. Maybe I am a loser, and I don’t know it because I don’t know what normal is.
“I don’t want you to be upset,” he says. “I’ve been talking to friends, and they run a boarding school in New York. They’d like for us to visit. It would be a great opportunity for you.”
Opportunity for what? “No thanks. I finished high school already.”
“Why don’t you give anything a chance?”
“So you’re saying I should give my mother a chance?”
“No. I don’t know why you want to bring her up. She was a lousy mother and doesn’t deserve you.”
“I have to know more,” I say.
“Listen, David, don’t do anything until I get back.”
“It’s my life,” I say and disconnect.
I’m going to have an awesome time playing video games and watching TV, and playing video games and watching TV…Maybe I’ll check and see if Scruffy wants to go swimming. Ha-ha. My best friend these days is a dog that’s not even my dog. I rest my head on the table.
I hate being alone.
At eleven o’clock, I lie on the couch and watch TV. After about a half hour, my neck feels sore. I sit up and move my head around. It’s weird that I wouldn’t feel my throat getting cut, but I can feel sore.
Veronica calls as the TV judge is making her decision, but it’s not Veronica.
“Hi. This is Ed,” the person who is not Veronica says. “Veronica’s husband. She was having belly pain all night,” he says. “We thought it was either gas or a virus.” I hear him take a deep breath. “She has an aneurysm. She’s having surgery.”
Suddenly I’m reliving the moment when I woke up and found Nana dead. I start breathing fast. I can’t say anything. I know what an aneurysm is. It occurs when a blood vessel is weak. If the blood vessel ruptures, it’s a dire emergency.
Ed continues. “The doctor said she’ll do well. He found the aneurysm in time. Afterward she’ll be in the ICU for a couple of days. She said to tell you to have a great time in North Carolina and to take care of yourself. She’ll be back to work before you know it.”
I hate it when somebody tells me something because they might die.
“Can I see her after the surgery?” I ask.
“She won’t be allowed visitors, and she needs to rest.”
That’s what I figured. “Tell her I’ll be fine, and I’ll see her soon.”
Then I try to call Joe, but I can’t get through. The only reason I’m calling is because I don’t want to piss him off any more than he already will be.
I’m supposed to head to my mother’s wedding tomorrow. It won’t be long until I’m cruising down the highway, windows open, road-trip music playing. Or maybe not.
I don’t know if I can do it.
I decide I’ll go to the bookstore and buy a road-trip CD.
What I’ll do on Friday is drive a few miles listening to the music. I can turn back anytime I want to.
I walk out of the bookstore, and it’s storming. Standing under the roof, I press my body up against the building along with a couple having an argument. She’s yelling at him about text messages she found on his phone. I know that voice.
Cassandra.
The guy walks off.
Cassandra calls her mom and asks for a ride. Next she calls her dad. Apparently, they both have said no. She just stands leaning against the wall. So what if she has to walk home? Why should I care? I don’t.
I hear her sniffing. She either has a cold or she’s crying.
As an expert at getting left behind, ignored, and dumped, I feel sorry for her.
“Hey, Cassandra,” I say. “You need a ride?”
She glances my way. “Sure,” she says.
So I take enough money out of my wallet for cab fare, give it to her, walk into the pouring rain, and keep going.
I read The Alchemist for a while. It’s about a boy following his dream of seeing the world. He’s afraid of suffering, but he’s told that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering.
I watch TV and get interested in a missing person and forensic program. You wouldn’t believe what some people do for love or money. They lie, cheat, steal, and murder. And you wouldn’t believe how many people disappear and are never found. I do. My dad is one of them.
I check Facebook and read the Waterly High School page. They talk about who died during high school, who got married, and who hung out at the Tasty Cone. I don’t have any of those memories because I never went to high school or to the cone place.
I think about my bucket list, how I may never have another opportunity to
meet my mother or search for my dad, and how time’s running out. If I am extremely lucky, I have a few years left in me, but I can’t count on that.
I’ll drive to my mother’s wedding. Joe will return from Belize, walk into the house, and figure out I’m gone. He’ll call my cell, and for once, he’ll be the one who doesn’t get an answer because I won’t want to talk to him when he’s going to be mad at me. It’ll make me sad because I’ve known him longer than I knew my parents.
My mother will be overcome with joy when she sees me. We’ll celebrate, and I’ll forget about everybody here.
She’ll tell me about me, and she’ll ask me to stay.
But I won’t.
Then I’ll go see Sam Tink in Pine Branch.
Around dinnertime, Cameron and Scruffy arrive with tacos. “I was afraid you’d be stuck here without anybody checking on you,” Cameron says.
“I don’t need anybody checking on me, but it’s great to see you,” I say, sounding way too happy about him coming over. “I’ll get plates and drinks.” I head to the kitchen and Cameron follows.
He’s right. I am stuck here, and I should stay in contact with people too. It’s like I’ve disappeared into the walls of this house. I don’t want this. Nana would tell me to put on my blue shoes and dance. Joe would tell me to walk away from my mother, but what does he know? He doesn’t have anybody, and he doesn’t care. Joe’s got a good reason to keep me from meeting my mother. He controls the money.
Most of my life I’ve dreamed of making my mother and father sorry they got rid of me—not with revenge or anything like that. More like I’ll show you I never needed you.
“I heard Luna stood you up,” Cameron says when we go into the living room to eat. I turn on the TV.
“Spencer talks too much,” I say.
Cameron unwraps a taco. “When I was in the hospital, my girlfriend sent me a Dear John letter. She said she felt guilty, but it still sucked.”
“She deserved to feel guilty,” I say. I give him the remote control. “You can pick something out.”
He keeps his eyes focused on the TV, channel surfs, and finally stops at a movie. “Have you seen The Dark Knight?”
I nod. “It’s a great movie.”
Painless Page 15
