Mary turned the TV back on, but it wasn't enough to drown out the explosions and zombies screaming from above. She finally turned off the TV and hiked up to the roof.
The telescope was gone, but the plastic lounge chair was still in the same place Mary had left it the day before. She lay down on it and watched as the sky turned deeper shades of blue and purple. The first stars started to come out. When she was younger, Mary used to think that each star was an angel assigned to watch over a human on Earth. But when Mom started working at the hospital and Mary saw all the suffering there, she wondered why the angels weren't doing their jobs. Then she learned in school that stars were actually massive balls of burning gas far away, and all the magic was gone by then.
Her mind turned to Carter, who had been moved to the intensive care unit not long after the doctors had successfully revived him. The stars had definitely not watched out for him yesterday. If Mary hadn't seen him crying, he probably would've been stuck in the morgue and died then. Before Mary and Mom left the hospital, Mr. Romero came to talk with them once more.
"Thank you," he had told Mary.
For what? Carter had been on that emergency table in the first place because of her. Pain started growing up her leg and her bruised side. But Mary didn't want to choke down more meds just yet, so she curled up on her good side. And in a way, she felt like she deserved to be in pain for what happened to Carter.
Why had he saved her, she wondered. Why had he risked his life doing it? How many bones had he broken? Would he be able to walk? Did he have brain damage? What if he was a vegetable? Or what if he never woke again?
She felt like crying again. But as usual, tears didn't come.
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- 4 -
Crimson
Mary stayed home from school for the rest of the week. On Saturday morning, Mom finally allowed her to go out. "You want me to come with you?" Mom asked.
"I'll be fine. Just visiting Ba," Mary said. The more she sat around doing nothing, the more she thought about Carter in the hospital, which tempted Mary to iron her own hands from guilt. "Besides, you need sleep. You've just come off a monster shift. Why did you work so long?"
Mom lowered herself into a chair at the kitchen table. "It's this new patient, Scotty. He was having some trouble last night and we were short staffed, so I stayed."
Mary's mother worked in the kids' cancer ward. The kids there were the kindest and bravest kids Mary had ever met, and it was always a big deal when some of them got better and were able to go home. The nurses would throw going away parties. But then there were the ones who didn't get to go home. That was always hard.
Mom rubbed her eyes. "Sometimes I wonder what good we're doing. Some live. Some don't. All of them suffer."
Mary didn't know what to say. She never knew what to say in times like this, when she wanted to offer words of comfort and couldn't. Instead, she put her arms around her mother's shoulders.
"Thanks, honey," Mom said.
"Promise you'll rest and eat?" Mary asked.
"Yes, doctor," Mom said. "Now go on. Say hi to Ba for me."
"Will do." Mary kissed her on the cheek. "Oh, I need a new sketch pad and some paint. Can I have some money?"
"Where's your allowance?" Mom asked.
"I bought a brush with it," Mary said.
Mom raised an eyebrow. "All of it? What's this brush made of? Unicorn hair?"
"Well, no," Mary said uneasily. She didn't buy things like clothes and makeup often. But when it came to art supplies, it was hard not to get the good stuff.
Mom shook her head as she opened her wallet and took out some cash. "Here. This is an advance on next week's allowance."
"Thanks." Mary stowed the money in her bag and picked up her wide portfolio carrier before she left. She'd taken art classes in school for years, but she learned how to paint from her grandmother, Ba. Painting was their favorite thing to do whenever Mary came to visit.
Riding the bus again was a little eerie. All the noises—the engine, the creak in the door hinges, and the various beeps and clicks seemed sharper. When the bus came to Fair Avenue, Mary got off and hiked the few blocks toward Anna's Art Supply, which was actually run by a guy named Ben. Anna's wasn't in a great part of town, but since it was still pretty early in the day, Mary felt safer about going there by herself. The store was squished between a crappy pizza joint and a fortune teller/psychic whose windows were covered with purple curtains.
Inside, Mary saw a man at the counter cutting open a cardboard box. He looked up and smiled. "Hey there, Mary."
"Hey Ben," she greeted.
Ben was, for lack of a better description, a beautiful man. He was in his mid-thirties and a bit on the short side. But he had toned arms and great hair. For a while, Mary hadn't understood why his shop wasn't called "Ben's," since he was the only one there. Then once, he told her about his wife, Anna. She used to run the store with him. Their friends jokingly called them "Banana," since that's what their names sounded like when you said them together fast. Ben said that's what he wanted to name the store, but Anna said it was cheesy. So, they stuck with naming it after her.
About seven years ago, Anna went to the bank to make a routine deposit. A guy with a gun came in and tried robbing it. He didn't get out before the cops got there, and he took everyone inside as hostages. Mary remembered watching the standoff on the news with Ba. The police brought in a negotiator and everything. Then Mom got home from work, and she turned off the TV and said no one could turn it back on until the next day. Mom had just started working in the ER at the time, so she must've wanted it quiet so that she could rest. But Mary heard at school what happened the next day. The stand off lasted for hours, but eventually the bank robber shot two people before trying to shoot himself. The police got to him first, though, and he lived. One of the people he shot survived, but the other didn't. The one who died was Anna.
Ben, still wearing his wedding band after seven years, opened the cardboard box and pulled out little tin boxes of mints. He put them on a wire display rack that was sitting on the counter next to the register. "Help you find anything?"
"Just getting a sketchbook and a tube of primary red," Mary said as she made her way through the narrow aisles to get what she needed. "What's new with you?"
"Not much," he said. "Same old, same old. Got some cool projects going on in the back."
"Really? Can I see?" she asked. Ben rented out studio space in the back of his shop to other local artists, and Mary always liked to see the works-in-progress of professionals.
"Sure," Ben said. "Come on."
She followed him through a back door to the studio. It was a little messy, but the hand tools were properly stowed in the tool cage and the table saw was clear and unplugged. A sign that read, "The most dangerous tool in this shop is the one you're using," hung over the large shipping door in the back.
At the center of the room stood a magnificent sculpture made of metal and colored glass. It looked like a cluster of flames with a stunning bird rising from the center.
"Wow," she said breathlessly.
"Like it?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said. "Whose is it?"
Ben smiled.
Mary looked at him. "This is yours? You're making art again!" After Anna died, Ben hadn't made anything new. Until now, at least.
Ben chuckled. "I figured it was time. Try walking around it."
Mary did so and saw he had arranged the flames to make them look like they were moving. The bird also looked like it was flapping its wings.
"This is awesome," she said.
"Glad you like it," he said. "It's in an art show coming soon."
"When is it?" Mary asked. Then she added, "Do you have to pay to get in?"
"If you want to come, I'll get you tickets," he said. "You can bring your grandmother and maybe your mom, too."
"That would be awesome." She looked at the sculpture again. "I would love to do something big like this."
Mary thought for a moment. "Maybe a mobile of the planets. Kinda like this sketch I did for a painting that never got made." She pulled out her old sketchbook and showed him the page.
"That would be awesome," Ben said. "It would make a much better mobile than a painting. You should do it."
"You think so?" she asked. "Well, I can't at home. There's no room. And my art teacher doesn't have power tools and stuff like that."
"You can use my workspace and tools at no charge," he offered. "And I can get you the same discount I use on my own supplies."
"Really?" she said. "You would do that?"
He chuckled. "Sure. I know things are tight when you're reusing sketch paper." He flipped through a couple pages of her old book with the telltale eraser marks.
She smiled. "Thanks. I'll ask my mom."
Mary paid for the new sketchbook and red paint before going to catch the next bus. She got off a couple blocks later and walked to a pleasant building with a sign that said "Agape Retirement Home."
A tiny Filipino woman behind the front desk smiled when she came in. "Hi, Mary."
"Hi, Ms. Nancy," she said as she signed the visitor's log. "Do you know where my grandmother is?"
"She's in the courtyard painting and waiting for you."
Mary thanked her. In a sunny corner of the courtyard, Ba sat before a canvas propped up on a tabletop easel. Her black and gray hair was pinned into a bun behind her head.
Good, Mary thought. That was a sign that Ba was feeling well today. Still, she made sure to walk around to the front so that Ba could see her. Mary learned a long time ago not to approach her from behind. "Hi Ba."
Ba looked up and smiled. "Hi Con," she answered, using the Vietnamese word for "child." "How was school today?"
"It's Saturday. I didn't go to school." She kissed her on the cheek before settling into the next chair.
Ba looked at her curiously. "What happened to your hands?"
Mary had tried to cover her injuries with a long sleeve shirt, but it didn't reach the bandages on her hands. She and Mom had agreed not to tell Ba about the accident. They didn't know how she would react. "I fell down in the street on the way to school."
Ba added some paint onto her brush. "The way you just said that sounded like you were hiding something."
That was one annoying thing about Ba. When she was in her right mind, you couldn't hide anything from her at all.
"Are you okay?" Ba asked.
"I'm fine." But of course Mary was fine. Carter was the one who wasn't okay. She started getting depressed just thinking about him again, so she quickly opened her portfolio to get her mind on something else. "I brought my nebula. You remember I told you about the picture I found on the NASA website?" She took out a canvas and placed it on the table. It wasn't finished yet, but this was Ba. She'd seen pretty much all of Mary's projects before they were finished.
"That's coming along wonderfully!" Ba said. "It's just like looking through your telescope on the roof."
Mary laughed. "I don't think the telescope is strong enough for that."
"Are you entering it in the school contest?" Ba asked. "You should also enter the one you did of the Northern Lights."
Mary unrolled her brush bag and took out a round brush. "I'd never win."
"You don't know that until you've tried," Ba said. "Paintings are meant to be seen, Con. You should let the world see the beautiful things you make."
Mary took the new tube of red paint and squeezed some onto an empty spot of Ba's palette. She mixed in a touch of black to make crimson. As the paint came together, she realized it was the same shade of blood she had seen on Carter's body at the accident.
No matter what she did, she couldn't get away from him.
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- 5 -
Reflections
"Are you sure you don't want to take another day off?" Mom asked on Monday morning.
"If I stay home any longer, I'll jump out the window," Mary said.
"Don't do that," Mom said. "Think of the property value. Rent is already a killer here."
Mary laughed. Her mother kinda had a messed up sense of humor. "Hey Mom? Can I make a large sculpture?"
"Is it for school?"
Mary shook her head. "I was talking to Ben at the art store. He just finished this cool phoenix that he's going to exhibit at an art show. He invited you, Ba, and me to it, actually. You wanna go?"
Mom took a slow sip of coffee. "I'll have to check. I might need to work."
"Okay," Mary said. "But if you can't, can I take Ba?"
Mom took another slow sip. "I don't see a problem with that. Just as long as you get her back in time for her curfew."
Mary nodded. "Anyway, about this sculpture. I'll need a big space and some tools. Ben said I could use his workshop and he can get me the materials at a discount."
Mom set her cup on the table. "I don't think that's a good idea. I don't feel comfortable with you going over to a stranger's for hours."
Mary wrinkled her brow. "Ba and I have been buying stuff at his shop for years. He's not a stranger. Maybe it's because you've never met him. You should go there with me one day."
"There's also the matter of money," Mom said. "You remember how Ba was recently switched to a stronger medication? It's almost double the cost as before. I don't know if we can afford it, even at a discount."
"Oh," Mary said. She thought for a moment. "Mom? Do you ever think that maybe I should just go to public school?"
Mom looked at her. "Why do you ask that?"
"Well, we'd have more money," Mary said. "We could live in a nicer place. Maybe Ba could come live with us again and we could hire one of those home care people so that she wouldn't have to be at the retirement home all the time."
"Perhaps," Mom said. "But you're forgetting about something important in all of that."
"What?" Mary asked.
"Your future," Mom said. "Your school is one of a handful in the whole state where a hundred percent of the graduates go to college."
"I know," Mary said. "But lots of people who go to public school go to college, too."
Mom chuckled. "Yes, but most of them don't get into the colleges that you will be able to. Remember, Ba went to Agape because she wanted to. She has friends there and she sees us regularly. And she knows that by doing things this way, you'll have a better shot at being successful."
Mary poked at her cereal. "You're successful."
Mom smirked. "Only after I did things the hard way. I'm sorry, Sweetie. I wish you could do your art project."
Mary shook her head. "It's all right. I understand." She got up from the kitchen table and hung her bag on her opposite shoulder. Her bruised side was still not ready to bear the burden of her schoolwork. "I need to go to the library after school. But I'll see you tonight."
"Don't be late. It's bánh cuốn with Ba tonight," Mom said.
She kissed her mother. "I'll be there. Love-you-buh-bye."
"Love-you-buh-bye," Mom said.
Mary headed out. On the first floor, Bruce was fixing a cracked tile.
"Hi Bruce," she said.
"Hm," he mumbled.
And that was the extent of their conversations, except when he yelled at her for running down the stairs. Sometimes Mary thought about talking back to him, but Mom told her not to. Otherwise, their maintenance requests would definitely be ignored.
Mary paid unusual attention to the things around her today. The convenience store on the corner. The newsstand near the bus stop. The fire hydrant with chipped paint, showing the years of dog piss it had endured. The bus noises were sharp again. At school, people in the halls said hi and asked how she was. She answered truthfully, "Fine," but never went into details. Mary didn't normally talk much to anyone at school.
She stopped by the girls' restroom before heading to Pre-Calculus. After finishing at the toilet, she set her books by the sinks and began washing her
hands. She glanced up at the mirror.
A boy was standing behind her. It was Carter.
Mary gasped and spun around. Her heart raced as she scanned the room quickly, but she only saw the plain tiled walls and the puke-green stall doors. For a school that cost an arm and a spleen to go to, you'd think it could afford to change those doors out.
Mary went to each stall, pushing the doors open. But no one was there. She returned to her bag and pulled out the bottle of painkillers. Dizziness and anxiousness numbered among the side effects, but not hallucinations. Had she just imagined seeing him?
The water in the sink was still running. Mary shut it off and looked in the mirror again. Only her reflection stared back at her.
Suddenly, she remembered the movie on TV a couple days ago, where the dead kid's ghost tracked down and killed the ones who tried to cover up his death. "He died," she said to herself. "He died, and now he's haunting me."
Brrriiiiinnnnggggg!
Mary jumped at the sound of the bell. She looked at the painkillers in her hand. The word "anxiousness" stood out on the label.
"That's stupid. I'm just imagining things." She shoved the pills back into her bag and headed to class.
When she got there, she sat next to Sienna. Sienna was one of only two people Mary spoke to beyond the obligatory niceties. Part of it was because Sienna was also mixed—her dad was Brazilian and her mom's family was Persian. In a prep school where non-Caucasian kids made up less than a quarter of the student body, mixed kids were an anomaly. But it was also because Mary took Art with Sienna and her boyfriend, David, and they had always sat together.
"You're here!" Sienna said cheerfully. "How are you doing?"
"Ok, thanks," Mary said.
"I was sick the day of the accident," Sienna said. "I heard about it from David. It must've been crazy."
Mary took her books out of her bag. "Yeah, it was." She didn't elaborate.
Sienna watched Mary quietly for a moment as she finished getting her stuff settled. "So, have you seen Carter?"
"Once in the hospital," Mary said.
"How about today?" Sienna asked.
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