by L. A. Zoe
I need your help more than ever. Mother is happy for first time since you died, but my friend Rhinegold seems lost in outer space. Maybe between Jupiter and Saturn. Do you see him?
Can you send him back to Earth?
I hope you don’t mind I’m in love with him. I figure—at least, I hope—if I died instead of you I’d be cool with you enjoying life in my place.
I know I don’t deserve Rhinegold, let alone to eat and breathe, but I can’t change places with you. I don’t even know if you really get these letters.
My message in a bottle, across the oceans of life, to the shore of death. From me to you.
I still cry for you, and then I hug Rhinegold instead of you, and at least I can sleep. I’d trade him for you every day, I miss you so much, but it’s not up to me, is it?
Are you allowed to cry for me? Or is Heaven so nice you’re always happy?
Your twin until the Heat Death of the Universe,
SeeJai
Chapter Forty-Eight
In the Hospital
Rhinegold woke to the smell of antiseptics and the battle cries of the armies of superbugs decimated but not wiped out by them.
The microscopic demons lurking on every surface of the world, especially in hospitals—and which now fought him inside his own body. His own angry red, aching lower left arm.
Dark, but blue-white light shone in through the door.
Slathered with dark yellow Betadine. Covered with new, thicker white bandaging.
He lay in a hospital bed, the sheets nearly as thin and crisp as the paperlike hospital gown he wore. All he wore.
In another room down the hall, a voice moaned as though damned to Hell.
Plastic adhesive tape held an IV needle in the inner crook of his left arm. The stainless steel didn’t hurt, but he hated the feel of it inside his vein. It made him dependent on the plastic bag hung up by the stand beside his bed. What? Water? Obviously. Glucose? Maybe, though he’d rather eat his daily sugar ration as a candy bar or drink it as a can of Dr Pepper. Antibiotics? A good thing, because his arm felt severely invaded by tiny evil spirits.
He could tear the needle out, lurch away from the bed. But would he make it? Where would he go? He’d lost too much blood already. He didn’t want to open a new wound.
He closed his eyes and leaned back against the head of the bed, set at a forty-five degree angle, and the thick pile of pillows. Nausea roiled his middle, and dizziness engulfed his brain.
When he woke up again, yellow morning light, cheery as an egg yolk fried sunny side up with orange juice, poured through the window.
Father and SeeJai sat off to the side, murmuring in soft voices.
Rhinegold’s heart thumped faster. SeeJai looked terrible, and he felt guilty, because he blamed himself. He couldn’t remember what happened, but he realized he did something to upset or inconvenience or worry her.
Red rimmed her eyes and nose. She’d been crying. And Father put his arm around her shoulders.
Despite the sun, ice frosted the lower half of the window, so outside, the Snow Queen still reigned supreme, holding Cromwell in her spell.
He fought her, but the knife wound from Lenny the Wolf Man weakened him.
And Father. There to cut off his head. Throw his rebellious son Prince Rhineheart into the deepest darkest dungeon.
Father wore wrinkled casual clothes, evidently thrown on quickly. Brown chinos and a maroon knit shirt. He eyes drooped with even more weariness than usual.
He said, “I hoped he grew out of these episodes, but obviously I erred.”
“What happened?” SeeJai said, voice rough and harsh.
“He has episodes … one doctor called them schizophrenic, but they go away … you know how much he loves reading fantasy books and watching fantasy shows and movies?”
SeeJai nodded. “He sits and watches them without even a screen. Just plays them over in his head.”
“It’s as though he internalizes the material so deeply, at a subconscious level, he forgets it’s not reality.”
SeeJai nodded slowly. “Like he goes crazy.”
Father said, “He’s not schizophrenic, not in any precise, classical sense. And I didn’t let them put him on any anti-psychotic medications. What he needs now is plenty of rest. Away from stress.”
SeeJai looked at the ceiling. “Away from me, you mean.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Father took a deep breath. “That’s not what I meant, either. Quite the opposite.”
What was Father’s plot? Rhinegold continued to lay still, wanting to hear their conversation while they didn’t know he was conscious.
“I love him, Mr. Cunningham.”
“I know that, honey, or I’d’ve already had the hospital throw you out. Do you mind if I use you?”
A well of weakness opened up inside Rhinegold’s brain, and he nearly passed out again. But he fought it, quietly, by gripping the stainless steel side rails of the bed.
His breakfast tray sat on the window ledge. He smelled the oatmeal. Suddenly he felt so hungry he wanted to devour it, right away.
He forced himself to listen.
Father said, “I want to take him home, put him in one of the guest rooms.”
“Why not his old bedroom?” SeeJai asked out loud—and Rhinegold wondered silently.
“Too many memories and associations. Good ones from childhood, I guess—but too many nights he spent there reading those crazy books and watching those wild movies. He needs the future. That’s where you come in.”
“Me?”
“You love him, he loves you. What could be simpler? He doesn’t listen to me. I’m the evil king or whatever. You’re his new fairy princess, aren’t you?”
Rhinegold wanted to kill Father for the dismissive way he talked about SeeJai, and—by implication—Keara, their magical beauty, but held himself back.
Return to the king’s palace? No!
“I, I suppose.”
“You are. So, here’s what I propose. I’ll hire you to be his full-time caretaker. You stay with him. Take care of him. Sleep with him, I don’t care. You’re both adults. But help him get through this episode. Heal him if you can. Get him on track. His life on track.”
SeeJai didn’t answer. Her face looked shocked. Surprise widened his bright red, bloodshot eyes surrounded by swollen tissue.
“But, but—what about … Keara?”
“So, he told you, huh?”
SeeJai dropped her head and nodded.
“Doesn’t matter now. She stays in her dormitory, only comes back for social events, like the party and the show we saw last night. Sybille has already agreed. Just don’t leave them alone together. She’s his past. You’re his future. That’s best for all of us. Am I correct?”
Your honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury.
To Rhinegold’s disappointment, SeeJai shook her head. “I’m scheduled to work the dinner rush tonight at the Sunshine Garden. The rent on our room. The electric bill. I’m saving up for a car. To go to college. I … can’t quit everything. Is he really that sick?”
The opposing counsel’s arguments didn’t faze Father.
“I know Arkady. I’ve worked for friends of his. I’ll call him, convince him to give you an extended leave of absence. You won’t need that room. You’ll be staying with us full-time, of course. In your own guest bedroom, next to his. And I said I’ll pay you. Double what you clear from the restaurant. I don’t want you to give up your plans, or your schooling and your career. I want Rhinegold to emulate your good example, not drag you down.”
“But I’m not a nurse,” SeeJai said.
“I’ll hire a private duty nurse as well, but we shouldn’t need them after he kicks that infection, and the wound heals enough to take out the staples.”
He couldn’t stand it any longer. His own queen plotting with the King to imprison him.
“Don’t I have any say-so?” he asked.
“Rhinegold!” SeeJai shouted, and ran to him. She put her arms around me as well as she could while standing up, and kissed him.
After they got all the necessary greetings and discussions out of the way, Rhinegold ate breakfast while Father and SeeJai continued to talk about where he should go.
“Look, I’m fine,” he told them between bites of oatmeal and half a canned peach.
Father started to say something, but SeeJai stopped him. Father began to argue—no lawyer can accept being interrupted—but he looked into her eyes, and backed down.
“What happened last night?” she asked.
“I can barely remember,” Rhinegold said. “I was watching The Snow Queen, and then we were all skating around and around, and sometimes a shard of the troll’s broken evil mirror was in my heart and eye, and sometimes in yours, Father, and—”
He broke off. “I don’t remember.” He tried to collect and organize the fuzzy images zipping around his brain. Snow. Riverside Park. Enemies. “I think I fought a lot of enemies. Is that how I ripped all those staples out of my arm?”
Father started to speak, then nodded to SeeJai.
“Don’t you remember insisting we go to Riverside Park?” she asked.
“The park? Maybe … “
“After the show, your father took us all out to eat dessert, then he drove you and me home, and you changed clothes, and said you had to go to the park with or without me, so I went in case something happened. It was so cold out, and lonely, and you told me all about you and Keara, and then ran around, and—so much blood—fell out. So I called your father.”
“Without SeeJai, you might have died from blood loss, or frozen to death,” Father said.
From the tone of Father’s voice he ought to feel ashamed of himself, sorry for the trouble he caused, but he refused.
“I’m not crazy now,” Rhinegold said, and as soon as he spoke those words, he regretted them, for they implied he was crazy last night.
“I called Dr. Krishna,” Father said.
“Who’s that?” SeeJai said, and it gratified Rhinegold to notice she looked at him instead of Father.
Maybe he could forgive her.
“A psycho quack,” Rhinegold said.
“His main psychiatrist, since the first episode when he was nine years old,” Father said. “He also has a therapist, Dr. Feldon, but hasn’t seen him in at least six months.”
They had him surrounded. He looked at his lower left arm, so much heavier bandaged than the day before. He had a vague, dreamlike memory of using it to hold a shield to block the black knight’s sword thrust. A ripping of his flesh. Pain. Blood. If Rhinegold had to choose between SeeJai and Dr. Krishna—between a princess of Elfland and a headshrinker—no contest.
“I’m not a child now, Father,” Rhinegold said. “It’s nice of you to invite me to stay in your castle, but I’ve got my own place now.”
“I rent the room,” SeeJai said.
“My castle in the park. Anyway, I’m over eighteen. You can’t force me to stay with you.”
“You can’t live in Riverside Park, even if you have a castle there,” Father said. “The city won’t let you.”
“Another condemned house then, while Queen SeeJai can stay in the room she rents.”
SeeJai put her hand on his. So soft and warm, a tingle of electricity ran up his spine, jolting his brain.
“Until a building inspector finds your frozen body?” SeeJai said softly. “Or the police throw you out in the middle of the night again? Or a crack dealer shoots you? Or a gang takes over and slices you into little pieces? I don’t want to worry about you, Rhinegold. You’re supposed to protect me, remember?”
“And I always will,” he said.
“Then you must get well and strong again. Your arm and your mind, both.”
“I’ll cooperate on one condition,” Rhinegold told Father. “SeeJai comes with me.”
“That’s what I want too.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Getting Advice
Sitting on the couch in Areetha’s living room, I remembered the nights I lay there tossing and turning, unable to sleep well because of their irregular lumps.
And worrying about Mom.
Wearing nothing but Pampers, Areetha’s two little boys ran around, screaming and hitting each other with plastic animal toys. She must have her thermostat turned up to 95 degrees, because the heat drained me of energy. Even though nobody watched it, the TV played some stupid contest show, blaring out strange beeps and buzzers, and the audience screaming and yelling and cheering.
From her kitchen emanated the odors of dirty diapers, baby formula, and turnip greens.
Everything made me feel so tired, I just wanted to lay down and sleep a hundred years like Snow White, not waking until my prince kissed me.
Though not on that couch. That would feel like sliding back in time, back to when I had nobody to care about except Mom in the hospital. And when I wondered where I would spend the next night. Before I met Rhinegold. Before my prince did waken me with a kiss. Before I had an entire house to stay in, although condemned. Before I rented my own room.
“You understand, SeeJai, this is crazy talk, don’t you?” Areetha said. “You’ve never lived with rich people. They’ll eat you alive.”
“You make them sound like crazies in a horror movie,” I told her. “All right, I don’t trust Sybille, his stepmother, but—hey!—that’s why they’re always the villains in fairy tales.”
Snow White. Fairy tale stepmothers. Rhinegold also had me thinking about everything like it was all a fantasy story.
Areetha shot me one of her patented Looks. “Just because you’ve been sleeping with the guy, doesn’t make you obligated to help him.”
“It’s not just sex.”
“Sure, you’re in love. First guy you screw, you have to be in love with him. Not me. Not the rest of the women of the world. But SeeJai Grant, it couldn’t happen without love. Elle Oh Vee Ee.”
“I thought you loved Jamal,” I said.
Areetha rolled her eyes. “A thousand years ago in high school. And even then I sure wouldn’t have played nurse maid for him. Besides, love don’t make you a doctor.”
“He’s got a doctor. A psychiatrist who comes to see him. That must cost his father a fortune. I know none of the head shrink doctors who ever treated Mom would come to see her at home. A few social workers, but doctors?—never.”
“There you go. Why’s he need you staying there?”
“And there’ll be a team of nurses until his arm’s a lot better.”
“So what’s your job? Just providing a lot of SeeJai Grant’s unique brand of TLC?”
One of her boys—Damon or Damone, I couldn’t keep them straight—slammed my knee with his plastic toy.
Areetha pulled him back, slapped his hand, and he began crying.
“I guess,” I said. “His father understands I’m the only other person in the world Rhinegold will listen to. And I work a real job, and I’m saving money to go to college and then get a real good job.”
“And you—and his father—think your boyfriend will finally listen to you, wake up from his dream world, and do the same as you?”
“That’s the plan, yeah.”
“And you said you are getting paid for this?”
“Mr. Cunningham’s matching what I make at Sunshine Garden.”
Areetha stared past me. “You’ll live in a West County mansion, not have to wait on customers, just talk to your boyfriend, and sleep with him every night. A doctor and nurses do all the serious, technical icky stuff. And you don’t lose money.”
“I figure I can save even more, because all my meals are included. We won’t spend money on pizza or other fast food.”
Areetha nodded. “Put that way, it sure could be worse. Even so, honey, get out when you can. Let Rhinegold play like he’s a knight all his life if he wants. You get your ass in college no later than September.”
Next, t
he car and driver Mr. Cunningham loaned me for the day took me to Englewood Gardens so I could give Mother the news of my new job.
Georgie answered the door, then limped back to his seat on the couch next to Mother, while she continued to stare at the large TV screen.
Some man leaned forward, then swung at a little white ball with a golf club, while crowds of people watched, and an announcer’s voice crowed about how far the tee-off went down the fairway.
Whatever all that meant.
As I took a seat in the chair close to them, Georgie turned the sound down with the remote, and nudged Mother. “SeeJai’s here,” he said.
He looked at me. “Saturday afternoon golf. That’s the one thing I missed when I was homeless, besides a dry warm soft bed under a roof and hot meals, watching sports on TV.”
“I like movies, you know,” Mom told me.
“So we switch back and forth between ESPN and either AMC or HBO,” Georgie said. “What’s going on? Where’s Rhinegold?”
So I told them the story.
“Oh, dear, that’s not fair,” Mom said. “You looked after me all those years. Even when you were such a little girl I should’ve been taking care of you, you always did so many things for me.”
“Rhinegold’s a tough guy,” Georgie said. “He can take care of himself.”
“Last night he fought off so many enemies he tore out a lot of the staples in his arm. And the dude on bath salts that cut him up wasn’t no illusion.”
“Delusion,” Mother said. “That’s what the professors call it when you see something not there because you fool yourself.”
Mom, the mental health expert. She spent more time in mental wards than lots of psychologists.
“I thought you were just depressed,” I said.
“Not always,” Mom said. In a matter of fact tone of voice, as her eyes kept flickering back to the TV screen to watch the people playing golf, she said, “Sometimes I hear JaeSea singing to me.”
I felt jolted, as though a charge of lightning zapped me. First time I ever heard that. First time I ever heard her say JaeSea’s name. First time the subject of my dead twin ever came up in a conversation between us.
