Lisa paused with her hand in the purse, eyes on her cousin as she stood in the doorway. “You’re going, right?” she asked harshly.
Sheryl nodded. She looked like a snowman in her heavy coat and the ugly, scratchy-looking scarf. “I’m going.”
The medication hit Lisa’s bloodstream fairly quickly, and within twenty minutes, she was slumped over in the chair, her temple pressed against the armrest as she slept with her mouth open.
“Lisa?” a man’s voice croaked from the doorway. She’d been out for more than an hour at that point, and the sound of her name stirred her.
Lisa sat up and wiped the drool from her cheek. “Dad?” she whispered, her eyes struggling to focus on the shriveled figure in the wheelchair.
Sheryl stood behind the chair, still holding the handles as she frowned at her cousin’s disheveled and confused appearance. Without thinking, she left her uncle in the doorway and walked over to Lisa, reaching out a hand to her.
Lisa took Sheryl’s hand and was immediately rewarded with an angry jerk that yanked her to her feet.
“Pull your shit together,” Sheryl hissed at her, glaring at her cousin with daggers in her eyes. “I don’t know when you saw your dad last, but he didn’t even know what was going on here. I’m ashamed of you.”
It wasn’t the first time someone had been ashamed of Lisa and it probably wouldn’t be the last. She gave a hard laugh. Did Sheryl actually think she cared?
“Hey, Dad,” Lisa said, stumbling across the room as she made her way to her father. She stooped over in front of him, making eye contact as she put her face in front of his. “How are you?”
Her father stared at her with hazy eyes. Cataracts, Lisa thought, watching the clouds float across his field of vision. She could barely remember the young, active man he’d been while Andy was alive. Now he was simply a shell housing a small remnant of the father who’d gone jogging, the dad who’d climbed up on the roof to hang the most Christmas lights of anyone in the neighborhood, the man who’d laughed heartily and chased his only daughter around the park on Sundays.
It was all different when Andy was alive, Lisa thought. He’d been the glue that held her parents together, the one they all turned to for humor and comic relief. His death had changed it all.
Not long after Andy died, their mother had started drinking like it was her full-time job. Lisa couldn’t really blame her; addiction ran in the family, obviously, and her mother’s reliance on alcohol gave Lisa an easy out when it came to her own love of pills. But she knew in her heart that if Daniel really died here in this hospital room, she’d have to give it all up. There was no way she’d let herself go down the same path her mother had.
There had been an afternoon when Lisa was eleven or twelve—Andy had just died—and she’d come home from school to find her mother missing.
“Mom?” she’d called, walking through the bottom floor of the house she’d eventually buy and raise her own child in. “Are you here?”
It wasn’t unusual for her mom to run to the store at the end of the day and leave Lisa home for thirty minutes or more, but there was something about the empty echo of the house that made the hair on her arms stand up.
“Mom? Where are you?” Her voice rang out through the house. It’d never done that before Andy died. Somehow his letterman’s jacket hanging on the coat tree or his piles of tennis shoes by the front door had insulated the house—given it a weight and a heft that prevented an echo—and with all of his things carefully packed and boxed in the garage, the house sounded like the bottom of the Grand Canyon every time someone spoke. Which wasn’t often anymore.
Lisa dropped her backpack on the floor near the couch and wandered up the carpeted stairs. “Mom?” No answer. “Are you gone?” Still no answer.
The door to her parents’ bedroom was closed tightly. Lisa stopped and knocked. She stood there for more than a minute, her heart beating so hard that she could hear it in her own ears. With a hesitation in her movements, Lisa twisted the doorknob and pushed it open.
The air in the room was still. The curtains were pulled shut against the sunny afternoon, and though she could see no one, Lisa felt sure that there was a person in the room.
“Mom?” she said again, this time in a whisper. The carpet was soft under her bare feet. She walked towards the bed, which was made up tightly. There was no sign that anyone had been in it since morning. “Mom, please tell me where you are.”
But she didn’t have to wait for her mother’s response. There, on the other side of the bed, Lisa’s mom lay sprawled out on the floor, her smooth cheek pressed into the blue carpet. Next to her was an empty bottle on its side with a splash of clear liquid still inside of it.
“Mom!” Lisa fell to her knees. She put her hands on her mother’s body and tried to roll her over. “Wake up!”
After pushing her mom and trying to move her, Lisa finally leaned into the heavy body on the floor and gave a shove that turned her mother over. Her eyes were partially open, but rolled back in her head.
Lisa’s words got stuck in her throat. She couldn’t even call her mother’s name again. Instead, she whimpered to herself, watching as her mom raised one hand in the air slowly and let it fall again. It was as if an alien had swooped in and taken over the body that had once belonged to her mother. Sure, Lisa had seen her have too many drinks, and she knew that after dinner there was always an open bottle of something in the kitchen, but this was more than she’d ever seen before. And certainly more than she ever wanted to see again.
“What did you do?” Lisa’s voice lifted as the hysteria filled her small, bony chest. “Why did you drink this much?” She picked up the bottle and held it to her nose. The label said “Vodka” in red and black lettering. It smelled horrible.
Now, kneeling on the floor of Daniel’s hospital room in front of her father, Lisa remembered all the ways that her parents had hurt each other and destroyed their own lives just because they’d lost a child. But it wasn’t just any child, as no one ever failed to remind her. Andy was the child. The one everyone had pinned their hopes and dreams on. The boy most likely to do anything he damn well pleased. The guy they all knew would actually make something of himself someday.
“Lisa,” her father said now in the hospital room, reaching out a gnarled hand to grab hers. “What happened here? What’s wrong with Daniel?”
She fixed her gaze on her dad’s narrow upper body, the years of running and working out wasted on a frail body that couldn’t even support its own weight on legs that had formerly run marathons.
“He got shot, Dad. Daniel got shot at school and now he’s in a coma.”
Lisa’s father stared at her, watching his daughter as she fluttered and shook, her hand trembling as it held his. He knew she’d been taking medication for years, though he’d never known why. Maybe for the same reasons his wife had chosen to self-medicate, though that had been years before.
“Shot,” he said, squeezing Lisa’s hand in fear. How had his grandson been shot?
“Yeah,” Lisa said. “He got shot at school, Dad.” Even through her Xanax haze, Lisa knew her father felt the impact of her explanation the same way he would have without the effects of a stroke clouding his understanding.
“At school?” he mumbled thickly. His heavy gray brow furrowed as he tried to comprehend such an atrocity.
“Another boy shot him, Uncle Jeffrey,” Sheryl said gently. “And now he’s in a coma.” She walked around the wheelchair and knelt in front of her uncle just like Lisa was doing. “Do you understand?”
Jeffrey nodded at his niece. “Yes,” he said in his raspy voice.
Lisa stood up abruptly, swaying only slightly as she tried to balance herself. She’d grown so used to the feeling of being high on something that she considered herself the equivalent of a functioning alcoholic. In fact, without something to dull the pain of reality, Lisa didn’t feel totally human.
She left her father and her cousin there in the middle of the room
and took a few steps towards her son’s bed. He lay there, as he had for days now, his eyes flicking back and forth beneath his pale lids, a breathing tube taped to his mouth so that oxygen could be pumped into him at regular intervals. Lisa didn’t touch him, she just watched.
This boy she’d created, it was like he’d come from nowhere. His father had disappeared as quickly as she’d imagined he would, and she was left raising this strange creature on her own. She watched him now, thinking of the heartache her family had been through. She’d lost her older brother, and now her only child was in a coma, brought down by an idiot with a gun. How did this much even happen to one family?
Daniel’s right hand was on top of the white blanket and sheet. She looked at it, but still she didn’t touch him.
Lisa’s father appeared next to her; Sheryl had wheeled him over to his grandson’s bedside.
“Can I talk to him?” he asked, his cloudy eyes focused on Daniel. “Just me and him for a few minutes?”
Lisa and Sheryl looked at one another. Lisa shrugged. “Yeah, Dad,” she said softly. “You can talk to him.”
Sheryl put a hand on Lisa’s shoulder and guided her to the door. They watched for a moment as Lisa’s father reached out a shaky hand and put it on top of Daniel’s motionless one. Before he could speak, Sheryl moved them both out the door and into the hallway.
“Let’s give him a few minutes,” Sheryl said authoritatively. “I still can’t believe you hadn’t brought him over yet.” The disapproval in her voice was blatant. “He deserved to know about this, Lisa. You can be so selfish sometimes.”
Without argument, Lisa sat in a chair near the doorway, her bony knees touching one another as she let her feet slide apart. She put her head back against the wall behind her and let her unfocused eyes drift to the ceiling. Of course she’d done it wrong—when had she not done everything wrong? When had she actually made a decision that hadn’t resulted in disaster or disappointment? Her eyes closed as she tried to remember a time when things had been good. Normal. Happy.
All she could remember was a time when her brother was still alive.
21
February 14, 1986
Love My Way
The hallways of Westchester High were littered with paper hearts and tangles of pink and red streamers. Everyone had cleared out for the day, but the remnants of the student council’s Valentine’s Day decorations still swayed from the ceilings and blew down the hallway every time someone opened or closed a door.
Jenny stood at her locker in the silence of the afternoon, her dark hair shining in the ray of afternoon sunlight that fell on her.
“Hey,” I said, walking up behind her. We’d grown close enough that she didn’t flinch when I put my head into that crook between her neck and her shoulder and buried my face in her hair.
“Hey yourself.” She moved her shoulder so it touched my cheek. “What do you want to do?”
A million unspeakable thoughts rushed through my head. What did I want to do? “Hmmmm,” I said, taking the opportunity to smell her hair as I thought about what to say. Jenny closed her locker and turned around.
“Yeah, what do you want to do other than sniff my hair, you weirdo.” She smirked at me. “It’s Valentine’s Day. We should do something.”
“Oh? It’s Valentine’s Day?” I looked around the hallway like I hadn’t noticed the decorations. “I didn’t know.”
Jenny shifted her bag and put the straps over her shoulder. “Not that I care, honestly,” she said with disdain. I followed her as she walked to the double doors at the end of the hallway. Her Doc Martens squeaked across the shiny floors. “Valentine’s Day is just another Hallmark holiday that was invented to make people buy each other unnecessary shit.”
I smiled at her as she flipped her hair over to one side. Her profile made me weak in the knees.
“Too bad.” I held the door with one hand so she could go through it first. “I thought we’d do something tonight, but if it’s just like any other Friday night, then never mind.”
Jenny stopped at the double doors. “Well, if it means something to you then I guess we can.”
I grinned down at her. “Oh, you’d go somewhere just for me? You’re too kind.”
Jenny passed under my arm as I held the door. “So what do you want to do?” she asked, walking out to the parking lot. I followed her.
“How about if you let me decide.”
Jenny laughed and turned back to look at me. “I’m kind of curious to see how that ends up. So yeah. Okay, you decide.” She stopped next to her car and pulled her keys out of her purse.
“Should I pick you up at eight?”
“You want to wait that long to see me?” She put the key into the lock and opened the door.
“No. I want to go home with you right now.” I took a step in her direction and put my hands on her waist.
I thought she’d pull away, but instead she leaned into me and looked up into my eyes. “You wanna come home with me?”
The offer was tempting, but I took a step back. I’d gone to a lot of trouble to make plans for the evening and I didn’t want to lose focus by following her home like a lost puppy. “I would,” I said, trying to sound casual. “But I need to pick Lisa up from Girl Scouts.”
Jenny watched my face for a second and then tossed her bag onto the passenger seat. “Alright.” She sat behind the wheel and looked up at me. “Pick me up at eight then.”
I watched as she pulled out of the lot and turned left onto the street in front of Westchester High. It was only three o’clock. I had five hours to kill before I could pick her up, and I couldn’t believe she’d just asked me to go home with her.
“So you’ve got everything, right?” Andy watched while I combed my wet hair in the bathroom mirror. He leaned against the doorframe with one hand in the pocket of his jeans. “Tickets, money, directions….”
“I’ve been to the city before, Andy,” I said, trying to sound confident. “I know what I’m doing.”
“Hey,” Andy said, putting both hands in the air. “The man’s got it. No big deal. Taking a chick into Manhattan for Valentine’s Day. Big date in the city.”
I threw the hand towel at him and he ducked. “It’s not that hard. I take the train into the city, find a cab, walk her to the bar.”
“I kind of love that my teenage brother is taking a high school girl to a bar.”
“We’re not drinking, you know.” I brushed past him on the way to my room. I was still shirtless after my shower, and I had no idea what to wear. Andy had scored tickets to a show from a college friend of his and had basically helped me set up the whole night.
“Yeah, no drinking for you, buddy.” He slapped me on the back as I consulted my closet. “Never get sloppy drunk while you’re out with a chick you really like.”
“Wise advice.” I pulled a light pink button-up shirt from a hanger and held it up. “This?”
“Pink, dude.” Andy shook his head. “It’s Valentine’s Day. Too cliche.” I reached for a yellow sweater on a shelf and Andy swatted it out of my hands. “Drop that.” He walked over to my dresser and yanked open a drawer. “You’re going into New York City. To the Barrel Room. You’re underage and taking a girl you’re really into to see a cool, unannounced concert in a basement. Don’t blow it by wearing something that makes you look like a tool.”
Andy pulled a black t-shirt from my drawer and threw it at me. I caught it and looked at the shirt as it unfolded in my hands. “You think I should wear this?”
“Yeah. Black is never wrong. And wear a black jacket with it.”
“Who am I, James Dean?”
“You should be so lucky.” Andy sat on the edge of my bed. “Sorry I’m not letting you borrow the car all night again, dude. I have a few plans of my own for V-Day.”
“It’s fine.” I pulled my head through the neck of the t-shirt and put my arms into the sleeves. Andy had offered to drop us off at the train station, and that was good enough for me.
As I tucked the shirt into my jeans, a sharp pain hit the base of my skull like it’d been cracked with a bat. “Shit!” I said, putting a palm against my head.
“What’s up?” Andy looked at me. “You okay?”
The pain shot over the top of my head and spread towards my temples like a giant hand gripping my skull. Points of light glittered in my field of vision, and for a second I thought I’d pass out. Then, just as fast as it had come on, it was gone.
I stood up straight again, blinking a few times. “I’m fine. That was weird though.”
“Probably just nerves, man. You’re going out with your girl tonight.” Andy nodded knowingly. “But don’t pass out on her, okay? Very uncool. Although it would give her the chance to take care of you, and girls like that.”
I finished tucking in my shirt, half-listening to him as he rambled about girls wanting to play nurse and whatnot.
Downstairs, Andy threw something black in my direction. “Here, wear this.”
I put my arms into it and felt the weight of Andy’s well-worn leather jacket as it slid onto my shoulders. I instantly felt cooler. “Thanks, Andy.”
“Not a problem. Now let’s go pick up your lady.”
“You don’t mind dropping us off?” I felt my back pocket for my wallet and, without thinking, checked for my iPhone. I hadn’t stopped doing that yet by habit, but every time I checked and realized that I both didn’t have it and didn’t need it, a strange sense of freedom and relief came over me. It was one of the things I’d gotten used to most quickly in this new life: the feeling of being completely untethered and able to enjoy the world around me because no one would be making the phone in my pocket buzz. I had no need to impress anyone by posting pictures or videos of me doing things that weren’t actually as fun as they looked on the screen.
If You Were Here Page 15
