CHAPTER TWELVE
The Loss
Martin heads to the backyard as soon as his father pulls into the driveway. He grabs his basketball and begins working on his jump shot. Mr. James has been teaching him a few basketball moves after school to help him when the new season starts. Mr. West joins him and they play a short game of one on one.
“Time out,” Mr. West holds up his hand a few minutes in and sits on the pavement. Martin stops dribbling the ball and smirks.
“Getting old?” Martin jokes.
Mr. West nods. “I haven’t done this in years.”
Martin tosses the ball to his father and joins him on the ground.
“I came out here to talk to you about something,” Mr. West confesses.
Martin crinkles his brow. “About what?”
“Marjorie Griggs,” Mr. West frowns. “Her parents are petitioning for your expulsion from LHS.”
Martin swallows. “What? Why?”
Mr. West gives him a look. “Do you really have to ask? Martin, you put humiliating pictures of her all over the school. She’s a straight A student with a lot of promise, but you destroyed her confidence. We’re lucky they aren’t suing for harassment!”
Martin shakes his head. “I told you, Dad, that wasn’t me.”
“Just like you told me it wasn’t you who threw eggs at her?” Mr. West fumes. “Martin, your mother and I have done everything we can to protect you from the consequences of your actions, and all you’ve done in return is make us regret it.”
Martin shakes his head. “For once in my life, would you just listen to me? I know I’ve made mistakes in the past, but I promise you I had nothing to do with this.”
Mr. West sighs and shakes his head. “I’ll do what I can, see if we can work something out.” Mr. West tosses the basketball in the yard and heads back to the house.
“Dad,” Martin begins, but stops. His father doesn’t turn around and Martin’s shoulders slump. Had Mr. James been wrong?
†††
Max opens his eyes and immediately closes them again. His head feels like it’s been trapped by a meat grinder, and little stars dance behind his eyelids. Just the thought of opening his eyes makes his head hurt. He hears someone knocking on the door. Max mumbles for them to go away, but the knocking persists.
He reluctantly opens his eyes again. Everything he sees is cloudy. He hears his father’s voice and the continued knocking. It’s the front door.
“How did I get home?” Max wonders, remembering the party. He’d locked his bedroom door before he left. Now it looks like someone kicked it open; the wood is chipped by the door handle. Max gets up slowly, trying not to move his head. It doesn’t matter. Max feels nauseous the minute he sits up from his bed. He hears the front door open, and the muffled sound of a man’s deep voice.
“Mr. Shaw?” the voice inquires.
“Yes?” his father answers.
Deep Voice states authoritatively, “We’re from the Logoria police department.”
Max’s heart nearly stops. They’re after him. They know he’s violated his probation. Max breaks out into a cold sweat.
They’re going to arrest me, he thinks. He looks around his room frantically, trying to find a place to hide.
“What’s this about?” his father asks. Max wonders if his father will cover for him.
Tell him I’m not here, Max pleads in his mind.
“Mr. Shaw, there’s been an accident. We believe your wife, Mrs. Shaw, was involved.”
Max freezes. He has to be dreaming. His mother is fine. He’d seen her that evening. Max looks at the clock. It’s 3:27 am.
“There must be some mistake,” Mr. Shaw replies in a panicked tone.
The officer replies, “The victim was driving a blue sedan and had your wife’s identification on her person.”
That’s it, Max thinks. Someone stole his mother’s car and wallet. That had to be it. But why wouldn’t they recognize the victim from the picture? Max walks to his door, fighting against the nausea and dizziness. His father looks surprised when he sees Max walk into the living room.
“Max, when did you get in?” Mr. Shaw asks. Max’s eyes are glazed and he doesn’t look like he can stand for very much longer.
“Where’s mom?” Max asks tentatively.
“I don’t know,” Mr. Shaw replies. He looks back at the officer.
“I’m going to have to ask you to come with me,” the officer speaks softly. His eyes are full of sympathy.
Mr. Shaw heads out the door with Max close behind him. The drive to the hospital is surreal. The bright lights swallowing the dark road do little to ease the pounding in Max’s head. They arrive at the hospital and are escorted through the emergency room doors. The hospital is full of people, but Max filters everything through tunnel vision.
Max follows his father as he talks to the police officer and then the receptionist, who directs him to a nurse who leads them to a room around the corner.
Max stays in the hall, unsure of what to expect. Someone robbed his mother and wrecked her car. He keeps telling himself his mom is fine, but panic takes over him when he hears his father moan. Mr. Shaw comes out of the room, trembling. His eyes brim with tears as he looks to Max and shakes his head.
“No,” Max rasps. His mother is fine. She has to be.
“It’s not possible,” A deep emptiness forms in the pit of his stomach, and Max pitches forward. His father grabs him before he completely loses his balance, holding him steady. Max pushes his father away and glares at him, angry.
“Where is she?” he demands.
“Max, she’s gone,” Mr. Shaw replies. He can’t believe it himself. He is trying to keep his composure for Max’s sake, but after seeing his wife’s lifeless body, it’s taking all of his will to keep himself from running to the nearest liquor store. He puts his hand on Max’s shoulder in an attempt to console him.
“I’m sorry, Max,” he sobs.
Max pulls away. “Why was she gone?” he screams at his father. “Why was she out so late? What did you do to her?”
Mr. Shaw watches Max closely. “Max,” he begins, “she was hit by a drunk driver. Some teenager hit her with his truck.”
“No, you made her leave!” Max accuses. “You sent her away!”
“No, Max,” Mr. Shaw says as calmly as he can. “I didn’t send her away. Don’t do this.”
“I heard you arguing with her,” Max continues, his voice becoming hysterical. “You said something to her to make her go. She wouldn’t have just left!”
Mr. Shaw tries to calm Max down. “Max, it’s going to be okay.” Mr. Shaw hopes that’s true. “Just calm down.”
“No, it’s not going to be okay!” Max cries. “She can’t…she can’t leave me. Not her. Anyone but her.”
Max glares at his father. “It should be you in there, not her!”
Max cries uncontrollably. His head feels like it is going to crack, but he doesn’t care. His mother is dead. All he has now is his father, which means he has nothing.
“I hate you!” he says hoarsely in between sobs. His voice cracks with raw emotion, and he shrinks to his knees with his head in his hands. The pain in his heart is overwhelming.
Mr. Shaw tries to get close to him. “Max,” he speaks softly.
“Why did you let her go?” Max whimpers. His words are barely discernible between his sobs.
His father sighs heavily as he sits next to Max, his face drenched in tears as he speaks.
“Max, she went looking for you.”
Max’s breath catches in his throat, locked there for an eternity. She was looking for him? It isn’t his father’s fault, after all. Max hangs his head, unable to speak.
Mr. Shaw continues, “After we finished talking we went to your room to check on you and explain some things to you. But the door was locked. We called your name, but you didn’t answer. You were so upset, we thought maybe you’d hurt yourself or…anyway, I pried the door open and we saw that you weren
’t there.”
“Your mother got on the phone and called everyone she could think of. She called Jamie first, but all she got was an answering machine. So we decided to go look for you. Your mother took her car; I took mine. After about an hour, I still hadn’t found you. I called your—” Mr. Shaw chokes on his words. His eyes are full of pain and he gulps several times before he continues.
“I called your mother on her cell phone to see if she’d found you, but my call wouldn’t go through. I thought maybe her phone had died—” Mr. Shaw, unable to continue, begins to weep. Max cries as well. Mr. Shaw continues, but his words are broken and full of emotion.
“I came back to the house, hoping to find her there. I had just put my coat up when I heard someone knocking on the door.” Mr. Shaw closes his eyes, reliving the moment.
Max shakes his head in denial. He looks at his father, wishing it were some cruel joke. “How did she die?” he asks.
Mr. Shaw opens his eyes and looks in the direction of the room holding his wife.
“She was hit by a kid who’d been drinking. His truck knocked her car upside down. She died on impact.” He looks at Max, hoping to ease his pain.
“They say she didn’t suffer.”
Max asks, “Do they know who the driver is?”
“I think so,” Mr. Shaw answers. “He wasn’t wearing his seatbelt and he flew through his window. He died too. He was just a kid.”
Mr. Shaw looks at Max. He remembers how he felt after seeing what was left of Max’s car, and watching him as he lay unconscious in the hospital bed. He wonders how the young boy’s family is taking the news. He can’t begin to think about how he’d cope with losing his child. Losing his wife is hard enough.
“I didn’t know I’d never see her again,” Max says quietly as fresh tears run down his face.
“The things I said to her…I didn’t know.”
Mr. Shaw nods and hugs his son. This time Max doesn’t pull away. They both weep until they run out of tears.
Listen To Me Page 13
