“Oh God no,” I groan, holding my stomach. “Please, no booze. I think I still have a hangover.”
Sal chuckles, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you have those shots, but you were hell-bent on getting them and I figured you’d jump back there and make them yourself if I didn’t give them to you.”
“You know me pretty well, Sal. Anyway, I just stopped in to tell you to put me back on the schedule. I’m fine and actually a little embarrassed that I had to take the three days I have.”
Sal throws his hands up and shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry, I told you to take all the time you needed. Are you sure you’re ready to come back?”
No.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie. Sal tilts his head, questioning me, but doesn’t push it.
“Okay, I’ll put you on for tomorrow night. But for now, go out and have fun. And trust me when I say you are way too young and too damn beautiful to be sad over a boy who couldn’t see that. It’s his loss, sweetheart. And I mean that.”
I offer a soft smile, not really knowing what else to say. It sounds like the same cliché stuff I would say to a friend going through this situation, so I guess I should just accept it and keep my thoughts to myself. Because the truth is, I don’t want to be Tanner’s loss. I want to be his. Period.
I give Sal another hug and then Trista and I are out the door and walking to a club where Trista likes to go dancing. I’m not really into it and much prefer a bar with good live music, but she’s in charge tonight and I’m too tired to argue.
We round the corner just up the block from the club and my stomach instantly ties into knots when I realize we have to walk right by The Box. It’s Tuesday night, open mic night for local artists, which means Tanner is guaranteed to be there.
My steps quicken as we get closer and I keep my head down, peeking up every now and then to see if he’s outside. I try to convince myself it’s because I don’t want to see him, but the better part of me knows that it’s because I do want to.
How fucking stupid can you be, Kellee?
I shake my head, mad at myself for still wanting him, for letting myself ever want him in the first place.
As we get closer to The Box and I don’t see him, I start to think I might get lucky, but as we near the front door I see a small group huddled together. It looks like a few of them are smoking, the others are just standing there with them, but the cold air makes them look like they’re smoking, too.
Please don’t be him, please don’t be him.
Suddenly, Trista grabs my wrist and pulls me to a stop. “Shit, Tanner’s standing outside. Do you want to walk down the next block and take the long way?”
My heart starts pounding in my chest loud and unsteadily, like a race horse thundering through the last stretch. He’s out? I mean, part of me knew he would be, but the other part of me hoped that maybe he was in his bed, wrapped up in thoughts of me the way I have been for him.
Wishful thinking, I guess.
I start to nod, wanting nothing more than to turn and walk in the complete opposite direction of where he is, but then I shake my head instead. “No,” I say as assertively as I can. “I have to go to work there soon, so I’m going to see him eventually. Might as well be tonight.” The knots in my stomach multiply and weigh me down, causing my breath to be labored and louder than it should be.
“Are you sure?” Trista seems uneasy, which just makes me falter more inside as I try to keep up the façade that I’m just peachy fucking keen right now.
“Yeah, I’m sure. He probably won’t even notice me,” I wince a little as I say the words. Knowing that they’re true doesn’t help them feel any better rolling off my tongue.
Trista nods and loops her arm through mine as we start walking again. Tanner is standing with his back to the wall while his friends group around him. It’s dark, but even in the low lighting his face looks tired, worn. For a moment, I wonder if he really has been feeling the same way I have, but then I remember that if he’s feeling anything – it’s probably for Paisley. A sickening feeling comes over me again and I wish I was in my bed and not ten feet from the source of the pain.
I keep my head down, but my eyes betray me again and shoot up to find him, wanting to catch him looking at me. My legs are weak, my mouth dry as I watch him, just waiting for him to lift his head in my direction.
But he doesn’t.
I’m so close he could practically smell me, but his eyes are fixed on the person talking in the group, his arms crossed as he leans against the wall. He looks dazed, like he’s not really even there, but his focus is unchallenged.
I might as well be invisible.
Maybe I always have been with him.
After we pass them completely, Trista lets out a big breath, “Whew, he didn’t even see us. Thank God.”
“Yeah,” I say softly, just above a whisper. “Thank God.” But as we near the club doors, I swear I can feel a pair of honey eyes burning a hole into my back.
Chapter 13
Sharing the Sky
Tanner
“Never have I ever had a one night stand,” Charlie says, batting her eyes in my direction. The group gathered around the table erupts into a frenzy of groans and laughs as people put their fingers down, inching closer and closer to being out of the game and having to down the rest of their drinks.
I haven’t played Never Have I Ever since my undergraduate days, and it’s no surprise that it’s still just as annoying to me as it was back then. Charlie and Benny have both begged me to play, but I elected to be a bystander. I don’t really need a game to make me down a couple of drinks. If it were up to me, I’d drown in whiskey tonight – anything to make me numb to the battle raging inside me.
“Never have I ever had a threesome,” Benny says, his eyes searching the table along with everyone else’s, waiting for the guilty culprits to show themselves. When two of the new female residents put a finger down, Benny throws his hands up into the air, “Score! So, ladies, should we take it to the bedroom now?”
The girls giggle and the game continues, but I’m not really here. I’m not really anywhere but stuck in my head anymore. Although I’m glad I’m at Benny’s and not at some random person’s house party, I’d still much rather be at The Box drowning my sorrows with no one but Sal to stare at me and silently judge my drinking. After seeing Kellee walk by two weeks ago when I was standing outside with Benny, I haven’t been able to go back. She looked like she had been crying, which shredded me. I wanted to run to her, to take her pain and make it my own – but she made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me after that night with Paisley. I don’t think anything I can do will ever change that.
It fucking sucks because The Box is my place, it’s my solitude – but she’s ruined it. She owns it, now – everything about it reminds me of her. And as much as I might want to torture myself in remembering the sweet taste of her lips on mine or the way the jeans she always wore there stretched across her hips, I know it’s pointless and stupid. Time to move on.
God, I hate that fucking saying.
What, exactly, does it mean when people say it’s time to “move on”? Don’t we always continue “moving on” technically? We go through the motions – go to work, go to school, hang out with our friends – always moving. But the fact remains that I can “move on” with my life but still be wrapped up in the past. So really, what the fuck does “moving on” have to do with anything?
The last couple of weeks have been absolute hell. I’ve spent most of my time at the hospital and the rest of the time drinking. Sleep almost never comes, and it’s so fucked up because the real kicker is that I deserve to feel this way. Kellee’s right – I am a fucking hurricane, and I knew it when I met her. I knew I was fucked up and that she deserved better, but I still wanted her and I didn’t care that we wouldn’t work. I brought her into my own personal storm and gave her no shelter to protect herself. She could have just watched from the outside as I tore myself and those I love ap
art, but instead I took her with me, wrapping her in my deathly winds and letting her trust that I knew what I was doing.
I wanted to be different. I wanted to not care when Paisley called me, to see her that night with Kellee and not give a shit about her or Corbin. Instead, I fell right back into the old trap that’s always been there. But this time, I took Kellee with me.
I would fucking hate me, too.
“Hey,” Charlie takes my drink from my hand and sets it down on the table, taking a seat in my lap. “Why don’t you take me back to your place? I can tell you don’t want to be here, so let’s get out of here and find a way to make the night more interesting.” She runs the tip of her finger down my arm and then hooks it in the belt loop of my jeans, her eyes saying more than her words ever could.
But for once, I can’t even fake being interested. I wish I could just take her home, fuck her, and get back on the track I was on before I met Kellee – the one way road to trying to forget Paisley by burying myself in every girl who would let me. Kellee had awakened the hopeful, wanting, passionate side of me that I thought had died. It turned out it had just been in a state of stupor, brought to life by a single touch from her.
Now, it’s been completely obliterated.
“Not tonight, Charlie.” I grab my drink and stand, throwing back the last bit in my glass as Charlie almost falls to the floor. She steadies herself before turning on her heel and storming away, muttering obscenities that are pretty true of my character right now as she stomps off.
Even though I know I won’t get any better sleep at home than I will here, Mariah is coming back in tomorrow for another skin grafting surgery and she’s probably the only person in this world that I don’t have to be fake happy around. She’s been at home the past week, her injuries finally allowing her to regain some sort of normalcy, but tomorrow I’m shadowing Dr. Harper in another skin graft for her. The last thing I want is to show up hungover or with huge ass bags under my eyes. I’ve already let down two of the most important girls in my life, I don’t want to let down a third.
I find Benny and give him a slight head nod to let him know I’m heading out. He shakes his head and I know he wants me to stay, wants to help me forget about shit, but by now he’s learned that it’s not that easy with me.
After filling my flask with more Jack, I head out of Benny’s apartment and onto the New York City streets. The bright lights and cold air remind me of the night I spent with Kellee staring at the stars. I wonder if she’s outside right now, if we’re sharing the same sky like we did that night.
Something tells me I’ll never be lucky enough to share a sky with her again.
* * *
Today is my last day at the hospital until after Thanksgiving. My heart sinks a little when I realize this is probably the last Thanksgiving break I’ll get for a long time. It’s no secret that doctors don’t often have holidays off, and I’ll be graduating in May. I pull my phone from my jacket pocket just as I reach the doors of Bellevue to type out a text to Dad.
- Mom buy out the grocery store yet? –
- Plus the butcher and the farmers market. You heading this way? –
- Going in for my last shift at the hospital now. I’ll text you when I’m on the road. –
- K. Don’t forget to bring your bed. I want to meet your special lady friend. –
I smile and shake my head, shoving my phone back in my jacket pocket and walking inside. As soon as I see Priscilla, one of the nurses assigned to our wing who’s always at the front desk, I know something is wrong. Her sweet smile that’s always so welcoming is forced, and her eyes look weepy and hollow.
“Priscilla, what’s wrong?”
She shakes her head, tears pooling in her eyes as she sucks in a deep breath. “Oh, Tanner.”
“What? What is it?” My heart sinks to my feet, a million possibilities running through my head. I just talked to my dad, it couldn’t be anything with my parents, could it? Oh God, maybe it’s Kellee. Oh shit, please don’t let it be Kellee.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, Tanner,” she bites down nervously on her lip, still holding the tears that are threatening to spill down her cheeks. “I know we aren’t supposed to get attached to patients, that we have to be prepared to let them go, but it was impossible not to love her. I know that because I loved her, too. I’m so sorry.”
No.
No. Oh God, please not her.
“Is it,” I try to speak, try to form a sentence to ask the question I already know the answer to.
Priscilla nods, her tears finally breaking way, “Mariah passed away last night. I’m so, so sorry, Tanner.”
She keeps talking, telling me that Mariah had a respiratory failure and that it was sudden and unexpected, that her mom rushed her here in the middle of the night but it was too late. With every word, her voice becomes more morphed and slow, my heartbeat drowning it out and drumming in my stomach with the force of a wrecking ball. Each beat slams against my ribs and robs me of my next breath.
She’s gone.
Mariah is gone.
I start to sweat, my hands shaking violently as I try to steady myself against the desk. Priscilla offers me a cup of water but I just stare at her, unable to move. Unable to process. Just a stone cold mass of nothingness glued to the spot I’m standing in.
Suddenly, my feet are moving and before I know it I’m keeled over in front of the hospital, forfeiting my breakfast in the bushes. Before I have the chance to stop myself, I’m running, racing with as much speed as I can to the one place I know I shouldn’t go. To the one person I shouldn’t run to.
But the only one I can.
Chapter 14
A New Line
Kellee
“I can’t believe you have Mee Ma texting now,” I say to my brother’s face on my phone. Seth and I have a pre-Thanksgiving ritual where we make hand-turkeys out of construction paper, craft feathers, and pretty much anything else we can find. I can’t remember exactly when we started it, but for some reason we never outgrew it, and ever since I moved to the city we’ve set up a Skype date every year and made our hand-turkeys together just as if I were still home. It’s funny because the older we get, the more perverted and strange our turkeys get. Our younger turkeys were so sweet, so innocent – now they’re just crazy.
“I know. And you’ll never believe what she asked me the other day,” Seth shakes his head, adding another yellow feather to his hand-turkey. “She wants me to ‘make her a Facebook site’. Can you imagine Mee Ma on Facebook?”
We both laugh and then I see Mee Ma’s face pop onto the phone screen, “Hey! I have people who want to talk on my walls too, believe it or not!” Mee Ma crosses her arms defensively and Seth and I exchange glances as we bite our tongues and try not to laugh again.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and always has been. I’ve always loved it because it’s not about presents or corporate agenda. Instead, it’s all about my three favorite F’s – Family, Food, and Football. I have one last shift at The Box tonight and then I’ll be heading home for a few days, and I can’t think of anything else I need more than to just be home. I feel like the only time in the past two weeks where I haven’t felt like complete shit is when I’ve talked to Mee Ma, Seth, or Trista. The last few days have been particularly difficult since Trista went home on Friday and I’ve had the apartment to myself. I can’t walk by my couch without flashbacks of Tanner striking me like a hot iron.
“Well, I think this might be my best turkey yet,” I say sarcastically, holding up my mangled hot pink turkey covered with rhinestones from an old high heel of Trista’s that she had in her “give to charity” box in her room. I also hung a white and black sign around its neck that says, “COCKS SUCK.”
“You do know that a cock is a male chicken, not a male turkey, right?” Seth points out.
I frown, “I know, but I don’t know what male turkeys are called.”
Mee Ma hollers from behind Seth, “Gobblers!”
/> “Hmm… I think this makes my turkey even more perverted,” I say as I start to make a new sign.
Suddenly, there’s one, single, incredibly loud knock at my door. My heart immediately jumps into my throat, which is kind of ridiculous but I swear I feel like I’m in a scene out of a horror flick.
“Is that someone at your door?” Seth asks.
“I think so.” I wait for another sound, and again the single knock comes, this time even louder. I inch toward the door and peek through the peep hole and then my heart goes from my throat straight to my toes and I stumble back.
“Who is it?” Seth whispers like he’s a secret spy.
“Tanner,” I squeak, not really sure how to control my voice at this point.
Mee Ma rips the phone from Seth’s hand and looks straight into my eyes, “Your boo thing is there?”
Her ridiculous attempt at using “boo thing” to describe Tanner snaps me out of my daze, “Really, Mee Ma?”
She smiles, “Just trying to lighten the situation, dear. Open your damn door and talk to the boy. See you tomorrow.” She makes a kissing face and then the call goes out and I’m alone again, Tanner just on the other side of my door.
I take a deep breath, straightening my long sleeve shirt with my shaky hands. You can do this, Kellee. As much as I try to convince myself, I’m not sure if it’s really true. I’m not sure I’m ready to see him, or even more – to know why he’s here to see me.
Slowly, I open the door. As soon as I see him, really see him, an overwhelming urge to throw my arms around him surges through me. His face is swollen, red – like he’s been rubbing it raw. It’s not raining nor anywhere near hot, yet his white t-shirt is stuck to the trembling muscles of his chest and abdomen, moving and ebbing with each shaky breath. The top part of his scrub uniform is bunched in his clenched fist and as he looks up at me, his honey eyes are hooded.
Song Chaser (Chasers) Page 11
