I’m afraid to ask my next question, but I have to know. “Was she … I mean, did she end up being okay?”
“After many long, painful years and a lot of intensive therapy, yes.”
“What about the man who did that to her? He isn’t still there, is he?”
“He’s long gone. He got his one-way ticket the morning we found Maggie.”
“So there really is a hell?”
“Specially reserved for a select few like him.”
I wince, thinking of the fate the man no doubt deserved. “Thanks, Crosby.”
“For what?”
“Trusting me enough to tell me.”
“Anytime, kiddo.”
We sit and watch the city while we listen to the soothing crackle of the fireplace.
“There’s one more thing,” Crosby says. “Kay wants to see us tomorrow.”
“Us?”
“She wants to go over the events of the last few days and feels it would be best if I were there. Plus, she wants to incorporate me into your treatment plan.”
“Why?” I ask, wary.
“Don’t worry. It’s happened plenty of times. When a staff member forms a strong bond with a new arrival, the SGA reps like to work it into the care plan, so long as everyone is in agreement.”
“It’s because I’m such a pain in the ass, huh?’
“I prefer the term ‘uniquely challenging.’”
I shift in my seat, uncomfortable. “Gee, thanks.”
“I know tomorrow is your scheduled free day, but in light of all that’s happened, she doesn’t want to delay our meeting.”
“Lucky me.”
“Keep your chin up. And get your butt back out there.” He points to the door. “You can still get in on the last few minutes of Evening Reflection.”
“I can’t face them right now. Not after everything that’s gone down.”
“And cue the diva.” He frowns. “You can be such a baby.”
“I’m staying right here, thanks.”
“You’re going.”
“Not happening.”
He stands. “There are two ways we can do this: the easy way or the hard way.”
I cross my arms across my chest. “Oldest threat in the book, and you’re forgetting the third option of no way.”
He sizes me up before responding. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’re leaving me no choice.”
I hop to my feet and take a step back, for the first time noticing how tall he is. And well-muscled, too. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re planning, but forget it. I’ll go out there first thing tomorrow.”
“Not good enough.”
“Crosby, don’t even think about it.”
“Too late.” He grabs me and throws me over his shoulder like he’s lifting a small child.
“Crosby! Put me down!”
He ignores my pleas, marching across the room and out the front door. He deposits me in a chair next to the couch where Hannah and Charlie are sitting. “See you tomorrow morning at nine. Don’t be late.” He smiles and waves as he walks away.
“Hey, Dez,” Charlie says, like there’s nothing unusual about Crosby tossing protesting girls around like sacks of potatoes.
“Sorry, Dez,” Hannah says, covering her mouth to stifle a laugh.
“Glad I could brighten your evening.”
The rest of our floormates stare at me, bewildered.
“Good to see you’re up and about, Dez,” Franklin says. “Any thoughts or observations you care to share with the group?”
No matter how hard you try, you can’t disappear by slouching down in a chair or hiding your face in your hands.
“I’ll take that as a no. Well, that will just about do it for tonight, everyone. See you tomorrow.”
Bobby joins us as the crowd disperses back to their rooms. “Why hello, Dez. What a pleasure it is to see you up and about, although I must note you seem to have chosen a most peculiar mode of transportation.”
“Funny guy, Bobby.”
He takes a slight bow. “And how are you this fine evening?”
“I was more worried about you.”
“Oh? And what prompts such concern on your part, may I ask?”
“You didn’t get in trouble with Crosby, did you?”
“No; I do believe I would remember such a thing. He did instruct me, in no uncertain terms, that my presence was no longer required at Nero’s Fiddle. Apart from that, we have had no contact.” He scratches his chin, pondering what, I’m not sure.
“Well, if you do get in trouble, I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t spend another moment worrying. It is but a trifle of an inconvenience, at most. I don’t anticipate any great difficulty arising as a result of our little journey into the city.”
“So, we’re okay, then?”
“I find your company quite pleasurable, Dez, and just as soon as you’re ready for another of our adventures, I am at your service.”
“I think my adventuring days are over. That whole scene with Crosby is one I’d rather not repeat.”
“It is no trouble at all. Now you can, with clear conscience, begin your quest to find the great convincing piece of information that will lead me to believe this is all real.”
In all that’s happened, my promise to find a way to change Bobby’s mind has completely slipped mine. The project will be a welcome relief.
“I’ll get right on it, Bobby.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Returning to our suite for quiet time, I’m hit with the scent of fresh lavender coming from our bathroom, so I decide to investigate. Fragrant bubbles float on the surface of a steaming tub, inviting me to climb in. Candles are scattered throughout the room, casting flickering shadows and creating a warm and comforting glow. I am, if nothing else, a girl who can take a hint, so I undress and climb into the enormous soaking tub.
For the first time since I arrived, I feel the tension mercifully exiting my body. I resolve never to leave the tub. It’s too comfortable, too calming and far too relaxing to even think of getting out. Ever. “Who needs heaven when I have this?” I groan with contentedness. I know it won’t last, but right now I don’t care.
The outside door opens, and I hear Hannah enter.
“Thanks for the tub,” I call through the door.
“Oh, you found it, huh?” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Yup. It’s unbelievable.”
“I know, right? I’d never get out, if I could get away with it.”
“We’re going to have to work out some sort of schedule, I guess. Thanks for getting it set up for me.”
“No problem. Relaxation’s hard to come by, especially after all you’ve been through.”
After a good, long, soul-healing soak, I emerge from the bathroom wearing the fluffiest, brightest pink bathrobe I’ve ever gotten my hands on. Having abandoned my pledge to stay in the tub forever, my new vow is to never take off the robe.
Hannah sits in a recliner working on a book of Sudoku puzzles. I flop in the chair on the other side of the couch and put my feet up.
She taps the side of her head absentmindedly with her pencil. “I’m surprised you got out.”
“I figured I couldn’t stay in there forever. They’d probably come find me, sooner or later.”
“You’re probably right.”
I run my hand down the arm of the robe. “Think they’ll mind if I show up to Morning Mediation in this? Between the bath and this robe, I’m feeling halfway normal. I’m never getting dressed again.”
Hannah gives me a sideways glance. “That”—she points to the robe with her pencil—“is sure to get some looks. I’d pay good money to see you parade through Jhana in it.”
“But there’s no money here, right?”
“No, but you’ve seen the doughnuts. I’ll give you one of those. I’ll be waiting on the other side of the park with one for you. I see the robe, you get the doughnut.”
“Tempting.�
�
Just as I’m getting comfortable, there’s a commotion. A shrill, muffled voice outside our door is ramping its way up to full-on hysteria.
Hannah cocks her head to the side. “Abbey,” Hannah says. “This should be good.” She walks to the door and turns back to me. “You coming?”
“Fine,” I grumble, “but I’m not getting out of this robe.”
We are assaulted by Abbey’s high-pitched wail as soon as we open the door. She’s standing with Franklin outside his suite. Hannah and I slip casually into the crowd gathered in the game lounge to watch the unfolding drama.
“But it’s not fair,” Abbey shrieks.
Franklin has clearly reached his limit. “Abbey, everyone here is on their own journey, and there are no set timetables. We’ve been through this. I know you’re upset, but you’re going to have to tough it out tonight. Kay will be happy to discuss your concerns with you tomorrow.”
“My concerns? I’m a little more than concerned, Franklin! I’ve been here six months longer than Jessica, so you tell me how that’s fair.”
“Fair has nothing to do with it. Why don’t you go back to your room and try to calm down?”
Abbey’s eyes are wild with rage. “So we should all just ignore the fact that your little pet got her ticket in record time?” He reaches for her, but she yanks her arm away. “Tell me something, Franklin. What good has all my extra work done? You know, all those little side projects? Shouldn’t they count for something?”
Franklin’s voice could cut diamonds. “This is neither the time nor the place for this conversation, Abbey. Go to your room.”
Abbey’s whole body shakes with fury. Her tear-stained face is red and puffy. “Trying to shut me up, huh? Real nice. I’m so glad we have you around.”
“That’s enough. You can either calm down right now, or RPS will deal with you. I’m done.”
“What’s going on?” Hannah whispers to Kira.
“Jessica got her ticket. Abbey just noticed Jess’s bracelet was gone and flipped.”
“Don’t touch me, Franklin,” Abbey shrieks. She storms off to her room and slams the door behind her.
Hannah waves to Jessica. “Hey, Jess, congratulations.”
“Thanks.” A wide smile is spread across her face, but there’s the slightest hint of sadness in her eyes.
“Of all the nights to be stuck with Abbey as a roommate, huh?”
Jessica shakes her head. “It’s going to be a long one.”
“You want to hang out in our room? I mean, as long as you don’t mind, Dez.”
“You’re more than welcome to stay with us,” I say.
“As tempting as that sounds, I should try to calm her down.”
Hannah gives her a hug. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye, okay?”
“Of course not.” She walks back to her room, hesitating as she opens the door. “Abbey?” she calls out. We can hear Abbey’s wail as the door closes again behind her.
“She’s way too nice,” Kira says. “I have no idea how she puts up with that.”
“She won’t have to anymore,” I say.
“Good point.” Kira looks wistfully at Jessica and Abbey’s door. “That’s got to be some kind of record, right, Hannah? I mean, she’s been here, what, a year?”
“Just under,” Hannah says. “We should all be so lucky.”
Kira glances down at Hannah’s bracelet. “You’re just about there yourself.”
“I still have a lot of work to do.”
“All right, show’s over,” Franklin scolds us. “Back to your rooms, everyone.”
All of us hurry back to our suites.
Like a couple of roommates in a nursing home, I set to work on a crossword puzzle while Hannah halfheartedly works on her Sudoku.
“What’s an eleven-letter word for vegetable stew?” I ask.
“Ratatouille.”
“Seriously? You didn’t even have to think about it?”
She drops her puzzle in her lap. “My mom is a chef at the Paris Hotel in Vegas.”
“Wow, that’s cool.”
She shrugs, frowning.
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t want to seem like Abbey.”
The screaming rant from minutes ago bubbles up in my thoughts. Tell me something, Franklin. What good has all my extra work done? You know, all those little side projects? Shouldn’t they count for something?
“She’s lucky she’s already dead,” I blurt out.
Hannah looks at me, puzzled.
“Abbey’s the reason they know I went to the city.”
“What? How do you know that?”
“Crosby said he had a source, but didn’t say who. Combine that with what she said out there about the side projects she does for Franklin … ”
“Oh my god. I can’t believe her.”
The moment morphs from angry to awkward when I realize I interrupted Hannah. “I’m sorry,” I say. “You were trying to tell me something.”
“Yeah, but this is kind of a big deal.”
“Whatever is upsetting you is a bigger deal. Now that I know what Abbey’s up to, it should be easy enough to handle.”
Hannah sighs, giving in. “It’s just … I kind of feel a little of what Abbey was feeling. I mean, I’ve been here over two years, and I’m still not ready to leave. Jess hasn’t been here quite a year and she already has her ticket. I know I should be happy for her. I am, but I’m also a little jealous,” she admits.
“Hannah, there is nothing wrong with that. At all. I haven’t even been here a week, and I’m jealous. I can’t imagine how hard it is for you.”
“I’m going to miss her a lot.” She looks down at her hands as she picks at her nails. “They don’t warn you, you know?”
“About what?”
“I mean, you die and you lose everything. Your family, your friends, your whole life, and dealing with that’s almost impossible. I’m still trying to deal with it more than two years later. But the thing they don’t tell you about is the friends you’ll make here. Anyone can get their ticket at any time, and then you lose them too, except this time you’re the one getting left behind. They tell us to rely on each other, to help each other, and we do. But nobody talks about the fact that the rug gets pulled out from under us every time somebody leaves.”
“We’ll all be together again after this, right?”
“It’s hard to think about the future when you’re stuck in limbo.”
“I wish I had something profound to say.”
“Just getting it out there helps.” She gives up on her Sudoku puzzle, dropping the book on the coffee table.
“Maybe DSR will have something helpful for you tonight.”
“I sure hope so.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
I lie in bed, awaiting the return of DSR. It doesn’t disappoint, taking me into its transcendent embrace without delay.
The woman appears once again. Her expression is stern, almost angry. “Desiree,” she says, “it is time to right the ship.” Without another word, the life-reflection begins.
My desk sits empty in homeroom. My classmates are huddled in small groups, talking to each other in hushed tones.
The PA system crackles to life.
“I am afraid I have terrible news to share with you all this morning,” says Principal Hendrickson, her voice tinny as it pipes through the ancient speaker. “As many of you have already heard, Desiree Donnelly was killed in a tragic and senseless auto accident Saturday morning. This news comes as a shock to us all. Dez was slated to give this year’s valedictorian address, and she had a bright future ahead of her. Not only was she a star student and athlete, she was a dear friend to many of you. Her contributions to our school and our community will be sorely missed. This is a painful reminder to all of us that life can be fleeting, and those we love can be gone in an instant.
“We know this is difficult news. We have grief counselors available to all students, and we encourage you t
o talk to our staff and each other. Coming together as friends is how we will move forward from this terrible tragedy. I’d like everyone to please join me in a moment of silence. … ”
My parents walk into the funeral home. Dad’s arm is wrapped around my mom, his strong frame holding her steady as her legs go weak crossing the threshold. He fumbles with the umbrella, trying to close it while they stand in the entryway. A somber man, thin and balding, adjusts his gray suit coat as he greets them and ushers them into a large visitation room. “Jim, Mary, I am so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” My dad’s voice quavers, on the brink of failing.
“She’s right this way,” the man says, leading them into a viewing room. At the front, dozens of floral arrangements compete for space, filling every spare inch around my coffin and the podium sitting a few feet in front of it. Metal folding chairs are lined up in neat rows before my casket—an over-the-top, gleaming hardwood display draped in tulips. The lid is closed, a clear indicator of the terrible mess I made of myself.
My mom moans. Dark circles line her puffy red eyes. These recent days seem to have aged her by a decade. She approaches the coffin, and her hands tremble as she runs her fingers through the blanket of flowers.
My dad gasps and heaves, choking back tears as he joins her. His clenched fists come to rest on my casket. He and Mom put their arms around each other as they stare at the covered remains of what’s left of their daughter.
Their two closest friends, Doug and Anne, arrive. Doug, looking awkward and uncomfortable in his suit, puts an arm around my mom. Anne takes my dad’s big hand in her tiny one, and pats his back with the other.
“I want to see her,” Mom tells Doug.
He shakes his head. “You don’t want that to be your last memory. My partner was at the scene, and … ” He closes his eyes.
“Where are Chris and Molly?” Mom asks.
“They’re coming along with their friends in a little while,” Anne says. “They figured we should be the ones here with you before the service.”
“They’re such good kids.”
The four of them stand in silence before my casket.
“Tulips were always her favorite,” Mom says.
Life, A.D. Page 18
