“I got it,” I say through gritted teeth.
“We need to have a talk, you and I,” Nick tells me. I hate his tone—the I’m-a-responsible-adult-and-you’re-a-total-fuck-up tone.
“Don’t want to hear it.”
“Don’t give a shit.”
I sit back on my couch, which I note should be thrown out and replaced with one that makes a better bed. “So I drank too much. Fell asleep. Big deal. When we were in our teens we passed out in one of the empty offices a bunch of times. Lay off.”
“That’s the thing, Matt. We’re not teenagers, we’re grown men. Men with responsibilities. You know how this life can suck you in. First the drinking and then the drugs, and then one day you’re gone. Is that what you want? Haven’t we been through enough?”
“That’s quite the stretch. From drunk to junkie? Really?”
“I thought you were going to help me run the club.” It’s the umpteenth time he’s given me this speech. Just because I don’t want to listen doesn’t mean I’m not; I’m simply ignoring it all. “Now that Dad’s gone, I need the help. I can’t count on someone who’s drinking instead of working. Getting laid instead of dealing with the vendors.”
I guffaw at that. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. But I’m not going to share the truth about my nonexistent sex life. “Fuck off,” I say one last time, closing my eyes and willing my headache to go away.
“You know what? Do what you want. I can’t help you if you don’t want help. So, April, June, whatever the fuck her name is, lied to you. You’re going to let that destroy your life?”
“Shut up. Shut your mouth,” I say with a scowl. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. That raspy, sultry voice, that black hair that is now golden blond, the love I thought we had for each other, five months of my life…all of it was a lie. A big colossal waste of time.
“Well, I can say one good thing about this whole mess. At least you’re feeling something.”
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah, normally you have one emotion: ‘I don’t give a fuck.’ I can count on one hand the times I’ve seen you mad or sad. So at least you’re letting that shit out. Not the healthiest way, but at least it’s something.” Shaking his head, he walks out, shutting the door behind him and leaving me to sulk by myself.
Eventually I get up, mostly because I feel like shit. When I realize it’s seven in the evening and the club will be opening shortly, I groan. If I skip out on work, it’ll be exactly what my brother said would happen. There’s no way I can leave. I just need more of the numbness.
I still feel so disgusting for having snorted coke in front of April. It’s made everything I’ve been feeling exponentially worse. I think deep down I always believed June—that is, April—would come back. As fucked up as that sounds, I deluded myself into thinking she would waltz back into my life. That there was a logical reason she’d left. As irrational as it seemed, I’d thought maybe it was just a very complicated pharmaceutical rep engagement that had kept her away.
I know, I know. It’s absurd, but that’s how desperate I was to believe she was coming back. Never in all this time did it occur to me that she’d stayed away on purpose. That she’d left me. That she’d been too busy fucking me over—getting me arrested, getting my father arrested—to come back.
Eyes fuzzy from all the drinking and the lack of sleep, I pull open a drawer with such force it comes off its tracks. I reach into the back and find the small baggie that I hid in there a few weeks ago.
As I stand there with the bag in my hand, my mind involuntarily goes back to her face when I pulled the bag out in front of her a week ago. Suddenly I rush to the bathroom and toss it away. I’m not going to let that bitch ruin any more of my life. It’s over. I need to move on.
I’m ready to get my ass downstairs and help tend bar or whatever the hell else needs to be done.
I’m ready to move on.
April
I’m floating on a cloud, where there’s peace and beauty all around me. I’m dressed in the best silk, which wraps around my body like a blanket. Never have I seen anything as vivid and pure as the blues and whites that surround me, and even though I have no idea where I am, I feel as if I’m right where I need to be. The bright lights all around should bother my eyes, but they don’t. Everything’s heavy, as if I’m sewn into the cloud and can’t move. But it’s not uncomfortable. It’s soft and warm where I am right now.
“April…”
I hear the voice from somewhere far away. Too far to grasp.
“April…”
The voice is getting louder, and I want it to stop. I want quiet. I want to relish the quiet solitude and the peace all around me.
“Can she hear me?” the voice asks, and the sound is making the light around me dim. Then I hear a beeping noise and I’m able to extract my hand and then my arm from the cloud, but…pain. Pain like I’ve never felt before radiates up my arm and shoulder, then down my spine as the beep gets louder and the blues and whites darken. My cave of warmth and sweetness is crumbling around me.
“What are you doing?” the voice repeats as a warmth starts to spread deep inside my veins.
“She’s not ready yet.” Another voice.
“We need to keep her comatose for a…” And then the happy cloud returns and I don’t hear the voices again.
—
Beep…beep…
“It’s been a week. I’ll have to go in a few days.”
Beep…beep…
“She’s being cared for. Don’t worry.”
Beep…Beep…
“She’ll be all alone.”
“Is there anyone else who can…”
More warmth. More darkness.
—
“April…Open your eyes, April.”
It’s an unfamiliar voice and it’s harsh, clashing severely with my serene environment.
I start to move, hopping from one white fluffy cloud to another trying to avoid the sound. Where’s the voice? The blues and whites are becoming murky. I look up and then down. Is it going to rain?
“April.”
The voice is even louder this time, and I startle, losing my footing on the next cloud as I fall and fall…
The world isn’t soft and blue anymore. It’s black, the lights and colors gone.
“Calm down, you’re at Mount Sinai Medical Center. I’m Dr. Parker. Don’t try to talk yet,” he says softly.
Beeps sound all around me like a symphony, the recognizable sound of a ventilator serves as the backdrop, and it smells like antiseptic and bleach. “You suffered a concussion…”
Beep…beep…
“Broken arm…”
Beep…beep…
“Skull fracture…”
Everything hurts, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. I can feel every single nerve ending in my body at once, and the sudden realization of where I am startles me into a panic. I jump in surprise. Or at least I think I jump, but I’m practically glued to the bed by all the contraptions sticking out of my body.
“Don’t try to move.” It’s the doctor’s voice.
Who am I? I can’t remember how I got here.
“Look at those pretty blue eyes.” Another voice—a soft female one. “It’s okay, April. Look, your friend Dean is here. I’m Gladys, your nurse.”
“Hi, honey.”
I turn my head toward the new voice. At first I only see spots, then I see an unfamiliar man’s distorted face. I close my eyes again.
“I got a call and flew right down. April?”
My arms feel heavy. With all the wires it’s hard to move but I manage to bring them up to my eyes. “Who are you?” I croak, my throat hurting from the effort.
“It’s me, Dean. Your friend.”
The beeping sound is coming faster now, and I feel my heart pounding. “Dean.” I try out the word, but it’s completely unfamiliar.
“She’s been through a very traumatic experie
nce and we just discontinued most of her painkillers. It’s been two weeks. Give her a moment,” Gladys says.
“Do you remember anything, Ms. White?” Dr. Parker asks.
“Ms. White?” I rasp out.
“Do you remember your name?” The doctor peers at me. I close my eyes and try hard to think but nothing comes to mind.
“What’s going on?” Dean asks.
“Do you know what month it is, April? Can you count to ten?”
I count to ten but can’t remember the month. Hell, I can’t even remember the year.
“Sometimes it takes a little while,” Dr. Parker assures me. “Are you in any pain right now?”
“My head.”
“I’m going to give her some pain meds, but nothing to sedate her unless she’s in too much pain.” I feel, rather than see, him hovering close. “April. April? On a scale of one to ten, can you tell me how much pain you’re in?”
I try to speak but nothing comes out. Somehow I manage to open both hands. “Ten?” the nurse asks, and I barely nod.
“April, do you remember what happened?”
Do I remember? I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t understand what’s happening.
I’m panicking now. “I—” I start to croak out, but my mouth is dry and I can’t put thoughts and words together.
“Take deep breaths,” Gladys advises. “Your throat may hurt. You’ve had a tube to help you breathe for over two weeks.”
A tube? “April, we’re going to run some tests,” the doctor says, writing something into a chart. “And the nurse here is going to push some medicine into your IV to help with the pain, okay? You may feel a little dizzy.”
I nod because I don’t know what else to do.
“I’m at a hospital,” I manage to say.
“Good. Yes, you’re at Mount Sinai. I’m Dr. Parker.”
“Why am I here?” I close my eyes tight and think. I was on a white fluffy cloud. I liked being on that cloud.
“And this is Dean Scott. Remember Dean?”
I turn my head slightly; my eyes have adjusted and the face isn’t distorted anymore. Brown skin, strong cheekbones, a baseball cap worn backward, thick lips, a kind smile, chocolate-colored eyes. I whisper, “Dean.”
“Yes, honey. It’s me.”
“Who are you?” I ask, never having seen this man in my life.
Chapter 10
Matt
I’m jogging down the boardwalk toward Lincoln Road for my coffee fix when I hear my name being called. The anger I feel hasn’t subsided, but running helps.
Along the boardwalk there are wooden alcoves with small roofs and benches. At night homeless people use the alcoves to sleep. During the day, they’re full of people drying up after a swim at the beach. But this early in the morning, after the cops have cleared out the homeless and before the beach is swarming with visitors, these alcoves are normally empty. Therefore I’m surprised when a tall man—taller than me and I’m six-one—calls my name again as he stands up. He’s not only tall, he’s also jacked. “Yeah?” I say, looking over my shoulder and slowing to a stop. He looks familiar but I can’t figure out how.
He points to the bench where he was sitting a moment ago. “Need a word with you, Matt.”
“Who are you? Don’t know you, man.”
“My name’s Dean Scott. I work with White.”
“Who?”
“April.”
“Oh, you work with June.”
“April,” he corrects me.
I vaguely remember seeing him talking to June the first night at the club. “Yeah, whatever. April. I’m in the middle of a run,” I say, and begin to jog in place. I don’t want to hear whatever it is he has to say. I’m trying to move on. Sober up. Get my shit together.
“She’s hurt.”
That stops me dead in my tracks. This time I’m prepared to listen.
He sighs and rubs his face roughly with his hand. “One of our snitches was brought up on charges for some other shit he did, and was facing trial. He was out on bond and in his fucked-up head he decided it was April’s fault, even though she did what she promised and his charges on our case were dropped. He caught up to her two weeks ago and beat her with a bat.”
“What?” The blood drains from my body, and I have to hold on to the boardwalk’s wooden railing to keep me upright. I may be angry, but I don’t wish her harm. Not at all.
“She’s in a bad way. She’s at Mount Sinai, intensive care. Can’t remember anything.”
“Jesus.” I exhale loudly. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Don’t know. Survived two surgeries and a medically induced coma, but she’s having issues with her memory. Look, she wouldn’t like it if she knew I was here. But I think maybe if she saw you…I don’t know, she loves you. Maybe that will help with the memories. You had feelings for her once.”
“Fuck.” I shake my head.
“I spent almost two years undercover with her, pretending she was my girlfriend. That shit will make you bond.” A spike of jealousy rises inside of me hearing him say that, and evidently he sees it, because he gives me a thin smile. “Relax. Nothing happened. I’m with someone. And April loves you.” His voice wavers. “She’s got no one, man. You know this.”
“Was that even the truth?”
“She didn’t lie about that. She has no one, and I’ll be starting a new job on the West Coast in a few days. If you don’t go, she’ll be alone in a hospital without a single memory, without anyone.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Mount Sinai Medical Center, room 694.” He gives my shoulder a squeeze and walks away, leaving me completely frazzled.
For the next hour, I wander around aimlessly. Would she even want to see me? Do I want to see her? I don’t know what the hell to do. I run the rest of the way to Panic to talk to the only person who’ll understand what I’m going through.
“Matty!” David calls out when I walk in. I didn’t think David and Geo were still in town. “Nicky’s upstairs grabbing something.”
“Thought you went back to France already,” I say, taking a bottle of water from the bar.
“Change of plans. Geo wants to stay longer.”
“How long?”
“Forever long,” David says, which surprises me.
“Really? Wow. Are you really considering it?”
“I think after everything that happened last year, a change of scenery will do her good. And Katie’s great friends with her. So yeah, we’re considering it.”
I can understand that. Katie is the strongest, most resilient person I’ve ever met. Her positive outlook on life, even though life has shit on her over and over, is damn impressive. Being around her makes you feel better. Makes you feel like you’ve got to live.
“There’s a club we’ve been eyeing; I’m trying to convince Nick to go in on it with me. You too, brother.”
“Well, let me know. I’d love to have you stay close.”
“Hey, Matt,” Nick greets me from the end of the hall. “What’s up? You okay?”
Letting out a breath, I shake my head and sit. “No. I don’t think I am,” I confess, and tell my brother and my closest friend about the conversation with Dean.
“Damn,” David hisses.
“So what are you going to do?” Nick asks.
“I don’t know.”
“You want me to tell you what I think? Honestly?” Nick asks, and I nod.
“The girl’s got a shit deal. Big-time. And I feel bad for her, I really do, being all alone in a hospital. But you’re not doing her, or yourself, any favors going over there and being her knight in shining armor when you don’t care about the chick.”
“I do care about her,” I protest, almost defensively.
David clears his throat. “I’m going to say something that’s going to make me sound like the biggest pussy ever, but after what I’ve been through…Geo could fuck half of Paris, lie to me, lose an eye, whatever—she could do anything, and still I could never think of anothe
r woman.” He gives us a half smile. “Don’t tell her that, though.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s bullshit.”
“It’s not,” Nick argues. “I know what he means. I just can’t imagine being with any woman other than Katherine. It’s true. I can’t think of a single thing she could do that would make me start sticking my dick into any wet hole.”
“I haven’t been sticking my dick—”
They laugh as if I’m telling a joke.
“There’s been no one since April,” I explain.
They laugh again. “Yeah, right. Who the hell do you think you’re talking to, Matty?” Nick says.
“I haven’t.” Now I’m getting pissed.
“I saw you leave with that bartender a few weeks ago.”
“She was drunk and I took her home. Nothing happened.”
“And the hostess, and the—”
“No one!” I repeat angrily. “I wouldn’t lie about this. What would be the point of lying to you two?”
“Well…” David says, sounding surprised.
No one speaks for some time. At last Nick asks, “So you’re saying you haven’t gotten any for over a year?”
I roll my eyes.
Nick sighs. “Okay, so never mind what I just said a minute ago. I didn’t realize you were still in love with her.”
“I’m not in love with her. I’m pissed. I told her I hated her.”
“You aren’t pissed,” David says reasonably. “If you were pissed, you’d have fucked your way up and down Ocean Drive. I mean, you are pissed, but more than that, you’re heartbroken.”
“Aw, how cute,” Nick teases. “My brother’s heartbroken.”
“Fuck you very much,” I snap.
“I don’t know what you’re doing here talking to us. Go be with your woman,” David continues. “Don’t you know the saying? There’s a thin line between love and hate.”
“I’m still mad. She fucked up my life.” I turn to Nick. “Our life. You should hate her too.”
“She lied to you, that’s true. But she didn’t fuck up your life. Dad fucked up.” He pauses for a second. “And you said some pretty nasty things to her. Let it go, and fix things with her.”
As I’m about to respond, Katie and Geo come in. Geo is looking better and better with each passing day; her hair has grown back where it was partially shaved. After they say hello to all of us, David pulls Geo toward him by the waist and buries his face in her neck. “One moment we’re getting married, the next I thought she was dead. Life changes in a blink of an eye, Matt. You don’t know what’ll happen tomorrow. Don’t let your anger or your pride get in the way of happiness. Trust me, it’s not worth it. That bat could’ve done more than screw up her memory. ‘I hate you’ could’ve been the last words you ever said to her.”
Make Me Stay: The Panic Series Page 13
