Emergency Contact

by Mary H. K. Choi

  “Yeah,” she said. “You’d be fun when you weren’t being the most depressing.”

  “And selfish,” he reminded her.

  “Yeah,” she said. “And fainting. You’d be screwed if you had a daughter though. You’d be wrapped so firmly around that kid’s little finger.”

  “Yeah, exactly where a dad should be. Holding a firearm and warding off potential suitors until that daughter is of consenting age,” he said. “Which in my book is about forty-six.”

  Penny laughed.

  Sam’s mind turned to Bobby. If Penny ever told him the guy’s full name Sam would hunt him down and string him up by his balls.

  “When did you start being so mad at your mom?”

  “Ugh, she’s so not a mom.” Even in her anguish, Penny couldn’t keep the frustration out of her tone. “You know one time I ate it on a bike,” she said. “Just scraped my entire face down the street. My whole face was hamburger meat with an eyeball stuck on, and instead of going home, I walked a block to my neighbor’s house.”

  Sam nodded. Stories never started or ended where you’d think they would with Penny, but it was important to listen for when it came together.

  “You know why? Because Celeste can’t handle blood. In that moment, I knew better than to go home. I rang the doorbell next door and passed out when they answered. I figured that my chances were better off with anyone else’s mom than my own. I was six.”

  So that’s where her eyebrow scar came from. They drove in silence for a few more dark miles. Parenting as a concept was wild. Everybody was winging it.

  “You know, I didn’t have a bike,” he said after a while. “I was so poor my bike was an old bean can that I kicked down a dirt path just so I could have some fun getting from point A to B.”

  “What?” Penny croaked, eyes wet.

  “It didn’t get me there any faster, but that’s how it was,” Sam said soberly. “You know what else? I didn’t even get to eat the beans out of it. It was a hand-me-down can of legumes.”

  Penny laughed. It was a sad, snot-filled honk.

  “So, cry me a river, Penny Lee,” he said.

  “It’s true,” she said. “I don’t know your journey.”

  “Or my struggles.”

  “True.”

  “Real quick,” he said. “I’m headed south, but I have no idea where we’re going.”

  Penny handed him her phone with the map. They still had forty more exits to go.

  “You know, she’s supposed to be the one taking care of me,” Penny said. “That should be the basic qualification of being a parent.”

  “I get that,” said Sam. “But sometimes it’s so incidental that these people are the parents. Beyond the biology of it. It’s not as if they had to pass a test or unlock achievements to be the ones making the decisions. Sometimes they’re actually stupid. Certifiably dumber than you, but as their kid you’d never think to know that.”

  Sam thought about how scant his own qualifications had been.

  They stopped for gas, arriving at the hospital an hour later. Sam drove into the covered visitors parking lot, killed the engine, and awaited further instructions.

  “Do you mind waiting out here?” Penny asked.

  “Not at all.”

  Sam was relieved he wouldn’t have to deal with whatever family drama was awaiting her. Though he would’ve joined her if she’d asked.

  Before she hopped out she hugged him. “Thanks,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek. Her nose was wet. It was very cute and completely beside the point.

  Sam watched as she jog-hopped through the sliding glass doors.

  He missed her the second she fell out of view.

  PENNY.

  The hospital smelled of hospital. The bite of ammonia that was so sharp you immediately wondered what odors it was masking. Penny’s eyes darted around the intake area for someone to talk to.

  “Penelope?” A thickset, handsome Mexican dude in ostrich-leather cowboy boots walked toward her purposefully.

  “Yeah?”

  He stretched out his hand. “Michael,” he said. His face was marred with acne scars but it only added to his rugged appeal. “I recognized you from the picture on your mom’s desk. They wouldn’t let me go up with her because I’m not family.”

  “So she’s not dead?”

  “No. God no.”

  “Is she hurt?”

  “No, not exactly.”

  Penny shook her head violently. She needed information way faster than he was dispensing it.

  “We had dinner. The band was excellent. It was time for dessert, you know coffee, cake, sopaipillas. It was that new Tex-Mex place downtown with the murals. . . .”

  “Okay,” Penny said, trying not to throttle him. “You’re too slow and inefficient. Did she get food poisoning?”

  Michael shook his head.

  “Was there a car accident?”

  He shook his head again.

  “Is she drunk?”

  “No,” he said, and cleared his throat. “She ate a weed brownie.”

  Penny couldn’t believe it. “What? Are you kidding?” she seethed.

  Michael glanced around nervously.

  “What are you guys, like, twelve?”

  “She’d never had them before,” he whispered. “And she ate a whole one, and then everyone was dancing so she forgot and ate another part when we all told her you were only supposed to eat, I don’t know, a quarter or an eighth.”

  “Are you high?” asked Penny.

  “No,” said Michael, insulted. “I don’t do drugs. Nor would I ever drive under the influence. I just snuck her out because she was panicking, and I brought her straight here.”

  “Okay.” Penny breathed. “So she’s not in surgery. She didn’t have a horrific accident. She’s not poisoned or dead. She’s just exceptionally stupid and immature even though it’s her fortieth fucking birthday.”

  Penny felt bad about cursing at a stranger except that the power dynamic here was clear. Michael and Celeste were in big, big trouble.

  “I thought you should know,” he reasoned. “If it was my mom I would want to know.”

  Penny was certain Michael’s mom wasn’t nearly as harebrained and melodramatic.

  “Also, your mother and I are dating,” he said. “I don’t know if that’s appropriate for me to say.”

  “How old are you?” she asked. Penny would’ve guessed twenty-five.

  “Thirty-two. How old are you?” he asked.

  “Eighteen,” she said. “Are you married?”

  “No!”

  “Okay, well, it’s nice to meet you,” she said begrudgingly. And then, because there was nothing else to do for it, they shook hands. His palms were calloused.

  “You too. Circumstances notwithstanding,” he said solicitously. “I hope I did the right thing.”

  Penny rolled her eyes and sighed. “You did,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “She insisted someone tell you not to come to the restaurant.”

  “Okay,” said Penny. “Thanks.”

  She checked in with the receptionist, a short black woman with freckles even on her lips.

  “Can you tell me the status on Celeste Yoon? I’m her daughter.”

  The nurse checked her computer.

  “We’re observing her,” she said. “She’s on the third floor, and she’s fine. We won’t be keeping her overnight. In fact, we’re wrapping up paperwork right now, and she’ll be discharged shortly.”

  “Thank you,” she said, walking back to Michael.

  “She’ll be down soon,” she told her mom’s boyfriend. He exhaled audibly.

  “I’m going back to school.”

  “You’re not staying?” he asked. “I’m sure she’d want to see you.”

  “Nope,” said Penny. “I’m all set.” Penny wasn’t interested in wasting any more of her time in this fantasyland of headassery, where the adults were large babies.

  When Penny got back to her car, Sam w
asn’t in it.

  Honestly, it was like herding cats with these people.

  Sam popped out of the shadows. “Sorry,” he said. “I had to pee.” He looked mortified.

  Penny started laughing. Her anger dissipated at the thought of Sam waiting in the car, executing complicated equations of whether or not he should go inside the hospital to pee. Or pee his pants. Or pee in a darkened patch of parking lot. It had probably taken him a good ten minutes to figure it out. The image was hysterical, and once Penny got going she couldn’t stop. The stress of the past few days, between Jude’s rage and her frustration at Celeste and the relief of her not being dead was too much. Penny gasped as her body shook with laughter, eyes streaming.

  Sam watched her like she was nuts.

  SAM.

  He couldn’t wait to go to sleep.

  The drive took three hours round-trip and when he turned onto Penny’s street, she touched the back of his hand.

  “Can we go to your house?” she asked.

  Sam looked at her questioningly.

  “Jude,” she reminded him.

  He nodded and headed for House. They only had a few hours before Sam had to get up for work.

  The two of them trudged up the porch stairs at a glacial pace. Sam turned on his lamp and sat on his mattress. He undid the laces of his left boot and then his right, feeling as though he were performing a slow, tame striptease.

  Penny yawned as she sat beside him and took off her high-tops. She was wearing frilly white socks with embroidered strawberries on them and cartoon squirrels on the heels.

  They both stared down at them.

  “I forgot,” she said. “These are secret socks.”

  Sam thought about the secret sides of girls and how much he loved them.

  “Do you want the bed and I can take the floor?” He’d have to give her his only pillow.

  “I don’t want to kick you off your own bed.”

  “Do you want a glass of water or anything?” he asked her.

  She nodded. Sam figured she could sort out where she wanted to sleep while he fetched it.

  When he returned, she was under the covers on the side closest to the wall. She’d left him his pillow on the outer side.

  “Is this okay?” she asked, sitting up to drink the water.

  He nodded and got under the covers. Since she was fully dressed he kept his clothes on too.

  He turned off the lamp. “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said groggily.

  “Hmm?”

  “How do you think I should decorate?”

  “Good question,” she murmured. “I know how disappointed I was that there wasn’t a giant black-light swastika above your bed. I thought I knew you.”

  Sam smiled. They were quiet for a while and he drifted.

  “Maybe a velvet painting of Juggalos,” she said, waking him up.

  They both lay there with their eyes closed, smiling into the dark.

  “Is your mom okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Except that she’s dumb.”

  “Everything’s such a mess,” he said.

  “Yeah,” and then, “we should have told Jude.”

  “Oh, completely. It’s so stupid but I didn’t want her to know how wrecked my life was,” he said. “I wanted her to think I was a grown-up with his shit together.”

  Sam felt Penny’s hand shift under the blanket so it was a few inches away from his. He nudged his over to where the backs of their hands touched.

  Penny’s fingers wrapped around his protectively. “Nobody thinks you’ve got your shit together,” she said, squeezing.

  Her hand felt hot and soft. The entire right side of his body became agonizingly aware of how close the entire left side of her body was to it.

  “You know her dad is this big-shot lawyer.”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  He thought about it.

  “I don’t know. It’s just a hang-up but he was the first person I knew who’d gone to grad school.”

  Sam thought about the eighty bucks Jude’s dad had left on his bed. That he’d left him for services rendered. Like a babysitter.

  “His law firm had this scholarship every year, and one time Mr. Lange, Jude’s grandfather, said I’d be a shoo-in. I never believed anything that bastard ever told me but for some reason I held on to that one. I thought maybe he’d put in a good word,” he said. “Like out of guilt or something. For the way he treated us.”

  Sam remembered the humiliation. He’d filled out the paperwork and written a cover letter about his plans and goals and sent it off. He’d never heard back. It was a need-based grant, and Drew of all people knew how much Sam needed it.

  “Anyway, they never responded and that was fine, but then Jude shows up out of nowhere saying she wants to come to UT.”

  Sam felt Penny shift toward him.

  “Why did you bail on her so much?”

  “That’s a good question,” he said.

  “I mean, your resentment toward her family had to have gotten shrapnel on her, right?”

  “No way,” he said, knowing he was lying as he said it. There was no way of divorcing his feelings about Jude’s dad and grandfather entirely. Plain fact was Sam wished he’d never met them. Them or their worthless gifts. Once he’d tried to pawn the DVD player Mr. Lange had bought to get their gas turned back on. Only Brandi Rose had slapped him across the face, threatening to call the cops on him for stealing.

  As Brandi Rose fell apart Sam had to grow up. Fast. It would have been easier to forget if it hadn’t been for Jude and her constant entreaties for friendship. She’d cheerfully muscled into his life before he’d had a chance to sort out his feelings. Except he’d articulated none of this to her. There was no way she could have known.

  “I should have told her I felt weird about her coming here,” he said. “But it felt stupid to make a big deal out of it. And it’s not as if I don’t like her. We’re friends.”

  “Well, at least part of you is holding a grudge.”

  It was true. When she’d actually shown up, Sam’s instinct was to retreat.

  “Smart,” he professed.

  He tilted his head so he could get a look at Penny. There was just enough light from the window that he could make out the sheen of her open eyes. She blinked. Sam held his breath.

  Talking to her like this felt similar to the interface. Except now the proximity felt like a dream. His heart jackhammered like crazy.

  “Even so,” she said. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met. And my favorite.”

  “And you’re mine,” he said.

  Penny leaned over and hugged him. Sam knew this was it. If he’d ever had a shot at kissing her, it was now. Even with their horrible night. And their friendship pact. Sam was her favorite person. Not that kid from her class or her stupid ex-boyfriend. Nobody else. Penny pressed her cheek against his chest and sighed. He knew that if he turned his body to the side and scooched down a little, his mouth would be in the neighborhood of hers. Sam felt her head get heavy. Her breathing slowed. One of her feet made little circles on the surface of the mattress similar to when cats make biscuits with their claws, and then it stilled. She was out. Sam shifted his waist away from her slightly, carefully, so nothing horrifying would happen, like getting a boner in the middle of the night. He listened to Penny breathe. Within moments he crashed too.

  He heard the garbage trucks first. Some mornings it was like the trash guys were hurling them at each other. When he opened his eyes, he caught Penny staring at him.

  Sam covered his mouth with the back of his hand to best conceal his morning breath.

  “What time is it?”

  “Five,” she said. Her breath smelled suspiciously of toothpaste.

  “Did you brush your teeth?”

  She nodded.

  “Did you bring a toothbrush?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did you use my toothbrush?”

  “Corre
ct,” said Penny. So the girl who generally abhorred human contact and loathed hugs was not above using someone’s toothbrush without permission. Talk about inconsistent boundary issues.

  Sam got up and walked over to the bathroom.

  He checked his toothbrush. It was indeed wet. Sam brushed his teeth, washed his face, and ran some water through his hair. He observed his reflection in the mirror. In the early morning he resembled a drug addict on the tail end of a weeklong bender. He was sallow with eye bags. Puffy yet skinny. He lifted his shirt. Yep, still sickly. Sam shrugged and took a leak.

  He thought about doing some silent push-ups in the bathroom to look swollen and changed his mind. Instead he did two squats and held for about three seconds each.

  When he returned, Penny was looking up at his ceiling.

  “Don’t you want to take a broom handle to it and scrape it off?” She nodded at the popcorn stucco.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Do you know what trypophobia is?”

  “Nope,” he said.

  “It’s this condition where you get grossed out or scared of irregular or regular holes or circular patterns. I have that. Your ceiling’s freaking me out. Don’t do an image search if you think you have it. It’s too disgusting.”

  “Do you know what knot is the one that’s impossible to untie?” he asked, recalling his last conversation with Lorraine.

  “Are you talking about trefoil knots?”

  “No, the myth one.”

  “Gordian Knot. The one that Alexander the Great had to cut with his sword?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Why are you asking me this?”

  He smiled stupidly at her. “I have no idea.”

  “What time do you have to be at work?” she asked.

  “You mean downstairs?”

  She nodded.

  “I have about an hour,” he lied. They were going to have to buy their baked goods for the day.

  “Okay, cool. So we can still hang out.” She got back into bed and pulled the comforter up. “You know constrictor knots are hard to untie too, especially once tightened.”

  Sam got back into bed with her, this time taking off his sweatshirt and keeping his T-shirt on.

  She stared at him intently while lying on her side. “I can’t deal with your ceiling,” she explained.