“Remember: penthouse, jet…. And don’t tell her I told you, or I will Mike Tyson you up, Scout Steele.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
TESS
It was all I needed to hear, that one little voice, like an angel dropping from the sky.
“Hi, I’m Gigi, wanna see what I just scored?”
She walked right to me from the giant bubblegum machine, as though she instinctively knew we were soul sisters. Everything about her straight out of a movie, an almost cartoon-like aura of spunk, fun, and whimsy. I wanted to tuck her into my pocket while flying to the top of the next rainbow I could spot.
“Hi Gigi, I’m Tess. I would love to see your score!” I tell her as she climbs into my lap and shows me five teeny plastic kittens from the plastic bubble in her hands. I tell her those treasures are some of my favorite things, too, then I show her my plastic ring from Scout, which I’d worn just for today. A little shot of courage.
“Why are you here?” Her voice is tiny like Cindy Lou Who’s from the Grinch movie. To others, I’m guessing she looks like a melted doll. Her plate-sized blue eyes and pouty, lollipop-stained lips, along with the sparkle that emanates from her pores, are all I see, though, when she looks up at me.
“I’m here to have grafts on my burns to make my skin look normal,” I tell her rather innocently as she prances the kittens up and down my arms while making little meow sounds. Her mom shoots me a nod from across the room along with one thumb up. I wink along with a nod back in answer. This little pixie on my lap is providing the perfect distraction before I’m called in for surgery pre-op.
“Oh. You’re already so pretty. I don’t even see your burns. Mine are everywhere…look!”
She says it almost proudly, like they’re badges of honor, and I’m stunned as she hops off my lap and does a quirky circle dance that makes me giggle. Her violet tutu flaps up and sticks to her T-shirt, which has the words “I Rock” printed in a glittery heart across her chest. On her partially bald head she wears a fanciful headband embellished with butterflies, flowers, and pink satin ribbons. She’s the most beautiful child I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her skin though, is quite possibly the most terrifying sight and plainly visible to the entire world.
“My burn scars are hidden under my shirt,” I tell her as I tickle her tiny belly. “I just want to make them go away because they make me feel…different, I guess.”
Her head is tilted to the side as I speak. She’s jumping around, giggling, but listening intently, keeping her eyes on mine all the while. She puts her kitties on my knees, squats down in front of me, and then a few seconds later looks up at me and speaks the most profound words. Words I’ve always known, but haven’t been doing a very good job of applying. Leave it to a child to take my breath away and provide some much-needed transparency to my emotional state.
“Oh, my mama told me that even though I’m burned, I’m beautiful, because that comes from the inside.” In a quick jump, she pops up on her toes and taps the tip of my nose as she says these words in her sing-song voice: “Did someone make you feel ugly? ’Cause let me tell you, my mama says you can’t give them that super power.”
Her words unravel me with their simple clarity.
“You have to use your very own super-duper-powers. It’s really easy—wanna know how?” She’s shaking one finger at me in rhythm with her petite hips. I’m pretty sure any second now Oprah’s gonna bust through the door to interview her.
“Yes, please, I would love to know.” My words come out in a hushed tone because I’m spending all my energy on keeping the giant pools of tears in my eyes at bay. I plaster a smile on my face and keep nodding, because not for a second can I take my eyes off of this precious, perfect little being who feels like a fortune cookie and soul whisperer at once.
“Awesomeness!” she cheers, while swinging a perky kick in the air like a dance move she must have invented because it’s adorable as all get-out. “First, you smile at them as big as you can. Show me one…a big one!” she commands in a booming voice, and of course I paste on a whopper.
“Next, be really friendly and ask them a question. Something easy that they can’t miss on, like, ‘Hey, what’s your name?’—you know like we did before—and then you ask them to play with you.”
Her words are Jiminy Cricket cute and clear. It feels like she’s giving me directions to the North Pole along with my very own key.
“You know, like chase or pocket kitties. Then pay attention! ’Cause stuff will change a little bit at a time. It doesn’t always work…but mostly it can.”
Her nodding, bobble-like head has me entranced. She owns me.
“Now remember, mama always says, they’re just as afraid of you as you are of them. You have to show them how brave you are, and then most of the time they’ll be copycats. Easy-peasy!”
Her tongue juts out of the corner of her mouth as she tries to snap three times with her right hand. At the same time she makes a clucking sound in her mouth that has me nearly falling off my chair.
I take her hand in mine as my heart races, while my feet move in unison. We walk to where her mom is sitting, reading her Kindle. “Your mama is one smart cookie. I want to meet her.”
She skips the rest of the way to her mom’s side.
“Hi, I’m Tess.” My eyes sting as I put out my hand to shake hers. “You and your daughter just…well, I think you just sort of changed my life, and I wanted to say thank you. I mean, really, with all my heart…thank you.”
The smile on her face is all-knowing as she swings one arm around Gigi’s waist and kisses her on the cheek.
“Oh, thank you, Tess—that’s so kind of you. Gigi’s pretty darn awesome, isn’t she?” Her face and her voice are the grown-up version of Gigi’s. Their eyes are identical, as is the small dimple they both wear on their right cheeks. The only noticeable difference is their skin, and with all honesty, once you get drawn into Gigi’s magic, you barely notice that.
“I need to go now, but I want to give you something, okay?” I tell Gigi, then look at her mom and nod to the bubblegum machine.
“Hey, where you going, Tess?” Gigi asks.
“I’m going home…thanks to you. Come with me; I want to give you something.” We walk hand-in-hand across the room to the giant red bubblegum machine. I pop quarter after quarter into the coin slot until a big baubly sparkler flies down the shoot, riding in its plastic bubble.
“This is a promise ring. My best friend gave me the one I’m wearing.” I show her my ring as I place hers on one of her tiny fingers. “Let’s pinky swear and promise each other we’ll always remember to be beautiful from the inside out and to rock our super-duper-powers, okay?”
“Okay! Cool!” She jumps up and down in place while wiggling around as we perform our pinky swear. And I know in my heart of hearts, this is one promise I will never break.
By the time I get through explaining my situation to the receptionist, then the nurse, and have filled out about an IRS amount of paperwork, it’s eight p.m. I have no plan for how I’m going to handle seeing Scout for the first time, nor any idea about when I’ll be ready, but one thing I know for certain is that the two of us need to figure out where we go from here.
I take the long route out of the hospital because I’m starved and much in need of some vending machine love. After hours of leaving my phone resting idly in airplane mode, I finally turn it back on. A string of texts instantly fills my message box. The top three are from my dad, the third telling me I need to get to him immediately as his cane has slid down the steps in front of him while he’s stuck up stairs. For three years I’ve been trying to convince him to sell his place and build a ranch-style home. Based on this text, he’s been lying there for two hours. I shoot him a quick text back telling him I’m on my way.
A Coke slides out of the vending machine as I hear my name being called by a familiar voice.
“Tess? Is that you?”
“Sage? Oh my goodness, Sage, hey! What are you doing he
re?” I haven’t seen Scout’s older sister in years, but I’d know her anywhere. She’s the gorgeous female version of him.
“I’m here for Scout—didn’t you hear?”
My heart drops to the bottom of my gut as she says his name. “Hear what?”
“He was in a motorcycle accident last night. Roxanne told me he was coming to find you.”
“Me? Wait…what…is he okay?” My insides twist into knots as I picture the worst and fly into panic mode.
“He’s pretty banged up but he’s out of intensive care. You want to see him?”
“Yeah, oh my God…” I start walking with her, then realize my dad is stuck at the top of his steps waiting for me, having likely pissed his pants by now. Fuck me!
“Sage, I need to get to my dad as well…he’s stuck without his cane upstairs. But I need to see Scout.”
“Well, he might be sleeping—they have him on hardcore painkillers that are keeping him practically comatose.”
“Has he asked for me?” I can’t help myself. I need to know.
“I’ve only seen him awake twice, and really groggy at that, but your name was the first thing off his lips. So are you two finally an item? Did you figure out that you were meant to be together?”
Has it always that obvious to everyone else?
“Um…well, sort of. We have some mending to do.”
“Nothing like an accident to make things clear, right?”
“Ahh…ha…yeah, weird.”
We walk into Scout’s dimly lit, syrupy-smelling room. Everyone on the planet must know about his accident based the funereal floral explosion surrounding him. The sight of his still body makes me gasp. I kneel at his side, giving in to a rainfall of tears. Wrapped in gauze, his head seems gigantic. His eyelids are swollen like rotten plums, and his face looks like he took on a tomcat and lost.
“Is anything broken?” I ask the nurse as she grabs the chart at the end of his bed while eyeing me up over the top of her readers.
“How are you related to Scout, Miss…ah…?”
“I’m…I’m Tess. His girlfriend.”
“Ahh, well, I wondered when you were going to show up.” She throws me a sideways smirk. “The only thing I can tell that’s broken, if you really want to know, seems to be this poor guy’s heart.” She gives me a disapproving cluck with her tongue that pisses me off and makes me feel guilty that I’m the reason he’s here.
“His…heart?”
“Yes. You’re the only person he’s been asking for…mumbling each time he wakes up, ‘Tess. Make her stop. Don’t let her do it…don’t let her go through with it.’ I think he must think you’ve left him or are leaving him…something along those lines.”
I’m frozen in place, knowing exactly what he didn’t want me to do.
“Well, it’s over…it’s done with. He doesn’t need to worry about that anymore.” The words fall out of me as I stand up, stunned. “My dad…oh shit! I need to go to my dad. Sage, I have to go. If Scout wakes up, tell him I was here. I’ll try to get back soon.”
I run out of the room, realizing I’d never even kissed him on the cheek or said “I love you” or even touched his hand for that matter. Seeing him lying in that hospital bed, all bandaged up, scared the crap out of me—not to mention what Nurse Ratched said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
SCOUT
My head spins as I grip the bed rails, feeling more drugged than a street junkie. Every inch of me aches. I hear someone slowly explain my accident to me, as though I’m a child.
“You flipped into the ditch…” The nurse’s head is shaking as she waggles her eyebrows at me in disdain, as though I’d meant to nearly kill myself. “Lucky you aren’t in fifty pieces.”
“Did a—a woman…named Tess…did, uh, she come by?” My voice comes out in patchy, barely-strung-together bits, my throat feeling as if it had been coated in glass shards.
“Shhh…you’re better off not talking, Scout. Your girlfriend stopped by.”
“Did she say anything…at all?”
“She said it was done. And that she would try to stop back again, but I haven’t seen her in the last few days. I can ask the other nurses if you’d like.”
Her words knock the wind out of me. Done?
“Are you sure?”
She comes around to the head of the bed and pokes around at me a bit annoyingly. “Your sister might know. They were talking that first night when she came by for a minute or so.”
She says it all almost triumphantly as she glares at me. I want to get up and run out of here, needing to hear Tess’s words myself. I need to know…because if I’m the reason she did go ahead with it, I’ll never be able forgive myself.
“A minute or so?” What have we come to, me and Tess? My heart feels shredded. All I need is her and all, it seems, she needs is something else.
“She was in a hurry.”
“Apparently so,” I say as feel myself drifting into another drug-induced state of la la land.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
TESS
striker says he might be out today
I read Roxanne’s text with butterflies swirling in my gut. She’s been keeping tabs on Scout’s release from the hospital like a good little Femme Nikita
thnx!…keep me posted pls.
Another round of bile snakes its way up my throat. That would be the 24/7 vomit train ramrodding its way through my system, wearing out its welcome. I can’t eat, can’t sleep. But one things for sure: I can cry. Oh, sister, can I. I can also manage to walk in circles like I’m a dog trying to make its bed. Questions come at me like blizzarding snowflakes, prickly, icy-cold little son-of-a-bitches that they are. What if, when he gets out of the hospital, he doesn’t want me? What if I see him, and I can’t stand the sight of his face because his last words were so cruel? He told me he’d had it. He’d told me to “enjoy all the fucking space I needed.” I think those were his exact words, if my playback button is functioning properly.
Four. That’s how many of those terrifying, life-altering, time-bomb boxes I’d bought today. Plus two cans of smoked oysters, though when I opened one can, I puked instantly from the smell. Paranoid…you think so? Four boxes: is that overkill? I dunno. I’m feeling all crazy as a cuckoo right now. Four seems safe—hell, I almost bought six.
And…what if I am? Pregnant, that is. What if I am and we can’t work things out? Square one.
Gigi…I channel my inner Gigi as I look at my ring and remember my pinky swear. Gigi: beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Inside.
I want the fairy tale…I’ve bought in. But right now I feel like I’m eating soup with a fork. What if he has not bought in? Are we even living in the same storybook?
Gigi, Gigi, beautiful inside.
Do you like this, being inside the flow of psychotic drivel running through my head? It’s just me and that bitch, Mrs. Hormone. She’s Thelma, I’m Louise. I need some forward-moving action today or I really will go over the cliff with her. Something beyond polishing my floors via my bunny slippers—which, on that note, now look like overgrown dust bunnies. Settle the brain…settle it. Where to begin? What to do first? Wax the ceiling? Give the cat a Mohawk? Mow the carpet? Pee in a cup? Barf again? Choices, choices. I suck at choices lately. Hormones can do this a girl. Capiche? Four boxes. Do the math…that’s eight tests. I can pee, barf, and play house all afternoon if I want to. Suddenly I’m feeling spoiled and wanting to bust out into my best Annie and sing about the sun coming out. Blechhhhh…oh God, round six!
He should be here for this. He should be the one sticking the damn thing in the pee cup, then telling me if those lines are there or not. Limbo… otherwise know as the edge of hell. He said it was my call, but is it? Is our relationship hanging in the balance waiting for my call?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
SCOUT
“Tess, sweetheart, open the door. We need to talk…now. Enough of this, please. I’m beggin’ you for some conversation.” Why is it I always
seem to be on this side of the door with her? It’s like I’ve hit bottom and I just keep digging.
“Open it…or do I need to deconstruct this doorjamb as well? You know I will. I just want to sit, talk, and hold your hand in mine. I need to be near you. I need you.”
My body aches like hell. I’m still pumping major meds and I’m guessing this is going be an all-nighter, so I slide down against the door, slumping my body onto the floor.
“I don’t give a fuck what you need right now.” Stubbornness being one of Tess’s more prominent personality traits…brightly shining.
“I need you to stop giving a fuck and start giving a damn. Now…now, Tess!” I slam my fist against the door, quickly regretting it.
“I’m in the middle of something important.”
“Really, in the bathroom? World leaders summit? Fluffing your shower cap? Hiding bodies? You and I have not seen each other in weeks—four, almost—a month, and you can’t open the bathroom door to see my face. I need to see your eyes for what I have to say.”
Women are good at the silent treatment. I think it’s a pre-packaged deal. It goes something like this: Oh, hey look, you’re the XX chromosome. You come with the following list of ingredients: blah, blah, blah.
“I miss you, Tess. And I’m not gonna get over you…not ever. But I am gonna get in you, and under you and on top of you… You want that, don’t you? Please fucking say yes.”
I hear her moving around, the sound of slippers dragging along the ceramic tile floor, until her body hits the door as she slumps down to sit. I’m guessing we’re perfectly aligned back to back. I can feel her, so close to me now.
“Are you willing to leave me starving for you? I could exist only on the air that comes from you. I could do that, you know.”
Minutes go by. The silence kills me.
A Mess of Reason Page 22
