by Emily Asad
Chapter 17: Better Than Normal
I must have slept for a week; at least, that’s what it felt like. In between long spaces of restful blackness, I was vaguely aware of the sharp scent of disinfectant, a hard flat table with blinding white lights, sliding glass doors, a TV set near the ceiling of my room telling me about two teenagers who had been rescued and a ranger who was going to jail, the blips and beeps of monitors near my head, and the low voices of my parents. When I finally fuzzed into consciousness, I saw Mom sitting near my bed.
Before I could say hello, she held a straw to my mouth. “Drink this, Lala,” she said, using my baby nickname.
Groggy, I started sipping. I could have drunk the entire thing, except that Mom took it away after a few seconds.
“Just a little, dear,” she said. “Some people get nauseous after surgery. We don’t want to put any more strain on your body.”
“Let her have as much as she likes,” Dad said from the other side of the bed. “She’ll let you know when she’s had enough.”
They were both here - and arguing, as usual. They wore wrinkles of worry over their half-smiles of relief.
“Tony?” I asked, my tongue thick with sedatives.
“He’s doing fine, dear,” Mom replied. “What a smart girl you were to use the orange side of the cloak like that; the pilot said he knew it was you the minute he saw it. I’ll have to make you another one, though. They forgot to bring it with them. And I bet it’s just filthy by now.”
I raised my hands to touch my locket - a movement that had become habit over the past few days - and found that my hands were bandaged. My arms sported various bandages, too, for all the various scrapes and scratches. Of course my ankle had turned into a mummy’s foot, all wrapped up in a heavy white cast until just my toes peeped over the top like misplaced pink marshmallows. At least I was on a bed again, with deliciously cozy pillows.
“My locket? Dad, where’s my locket?”
Mom’s face fell. I knew she wanted me to tell her how much her orange cloak had saved us, and how brilliant she was, but I just didn’t have the energy.
“Right here, baby,” he said, passing a plastic container to me so I could see. The earring that caused Tony’s snakebite was missing. “They had to take everything off for surgery.” He glared at Mom. “I told you she’d worry if she woke up without them.”
“If she’s worried, it’s only because she doesn’t want you to be angry for losing them. Honestly, Gary, that’s such a large burden for a little girl. You seem to care more about those jewels than you do about your own daughter-”
“That’s not true. Let me remind you that I’m the one who went after her. You stayed behind in the cabin, afraid of flying out to search for your own daughter. That proves who cares more.”
They continued to bicker, each saying just the right thing to make the other angry. Years of practice made it easy.
I sat between them, right in the middle of their fight, their hostilities flying across my body like a thousand arrows of rage. My head pounded in tempo with my ankle. I heard Tony’s voice in my brain: You know all those arguments you rehearse when you think nobody’s listening? You should tell them to your folks for real...
I drew a deep breath. “You two stop it!” I said, interrupting them for the first time in my life. “You’re acting like kindergartners, not grown-ups. I love both of you, not one or the other. Equally, for crying out loud. Neither of you are my enemy, yet you use me like ammunition to hurt each other. I’m so tired of it. I hate living this way! Now apologize.”
“I’m sorry,” they both told me, shocked.
Their meek tones surprised me; I thought they’d be angry. But I decided to press my advantage. “Not to me. To each other.”
The silence grew awkward as they looked at each other across my body. I wondered which parent would bend first.
“She’s right,” Dad said. “I should treat you better. And not just for your sake, but because you’re a good person even if I don’t always appreciate you.”
Mom dropped her gaze. Apparently his apology softened her, because hers was just as gracious.
“Good,” I said with a decisive nod. “That’s just one of the things I want to change. I’ve had lots of time to think about this, and I don’t mean just while I was lost. This is what I want to happen from now on. Dad, get some paper. We’re making a list.”
Mom actually handed him a pen.
I outlined new rules for civil phone calls and text messages, rules for giving and receiving gifts, ideas about visitation, and thoughts on several other areas that had bothered me for years. It was all so clear in my mind that I wondered why I couldn’t put it all in words before.
We actually negotiated terms, both Mom and Dad agreeing to come to some compromises, and me making some hard choices, too. Toward the end, I noticed them share a glance full of meaning - the sort of patronizing but adoring glance a parent gives a sleeping baby, the kind that says, “Look. We made this.”
“Now, Mom will need a copy,” I said. “You’ll get that to her?”
Dad kissed my forehead. “When did you get so strong and grown-up?”
“Formidable, isn’t she?” Mom asked.
I could tell that she wanted to add a jab, something along the lines of “just like me, probably,” but she trapped the words behind her pinched lips.
I smiled at them both, finally allowing myself to relax. “I do feel different,” I admitted. “More mature. Less helpless.”
We grinned at each other for a minute until the nurse came in. “Miss? The reporters and police are here to interview you. You ready for a shower?”
“Police?” I squeaked. “Where’s Tony?”
“He’s safe, right down the hall,” she said. “Sleeping. If you want to sleep some more, I’ll tell everyone to wait.”
I glanced down at my fingernails, which were caked in dirt. “I really could use a shower.”
“I’ll bring the wheelchair.”
Talk about luxury - no more dust and grime on my skin. Mom brought rose-scented shampoo and body wash. Clean skin, clean hair, no body odor. Such simple things a person takes for granted. I knew I would be paying closer attention to my life from here forward.
When the nurse got me settled again, the police and the reporter came into the room. Mom and Dad stayed with me the whole time. In fact, Mom ordered some chicken soup and cherry gelatin for me to eat while I answered questions.
The reporter from Otter Paw snapped my picture and promised me that I’d be making front-page news. She also interrogated me in depth about the snake, what it looked like, what it sounded like. That was one picture I would never get out of my head: light brown on dark brown, but with blotches, not stripes; a triangular head with nostrils (the officer laughed when I said nostrils and told me they’re called ‘sensory pits’); solid black tail with a rattle shake I’ll never forget.
“That’s good enough for me,” the reporter said. “Any chance you caught a look at its eyes?”
The mental picture magnified itself a hundred times: Vicious round pupils against shiny gold eyeballs.
“You’re sure?” she asked.
I shuddered. “I can draw you a picture, if you like.”
“No need.” She nodded to herself, then nodded again. “Well, kiddo, you probably don’t know this, but you just made friends with a timber rattlesnake. They were nearly poached to extinction up in this part of Minnesota, so much so that they’re been put in the Rare Species classification.”
“Huh.” No wonder that pilot had given me a weird look.
“So it’s kind of exciting,” she added.
“Or a fluke,” the officer sad. “Somebody’s pet could have escaped.”
“Pet?” I turned to him, horrified. “People keep rattlesnakes as pets?”
“I prefer to think that conservation efforts are working, after all,” she continued. Now excuse me. You’ve been wonderful, but I have a deadline.”
The officer was friendly enough, though I didn’t really trust him until he told me about Tony. “Nelson’s in jail,” he added. “He’ll be there for quite some time. Kidnapping, bribes, attempted murder... You won’t have to worry about him ever again.”
“But what about Drosnin?” I asked. “Tony’s supposed to testify on Wednesday, and that Drosnin guy will do anything to stop him.”
The officer chuckled. “First of all, today’s Thursday. You’ve been sleeping ever since they brought you in. And second, it seems that Mr. Drosnin was a severely overweight person with stress disorders. When he found out we had his key witness in custody, he up and had himself a heart attack. Your friend didn’t even need to testify.”
“You mean...”
“Yah.”
“Does Tony know?”
“I told him this morning. He wanted to see you when you woke up. Should I have the nurse wheel him in?”
“I’m here,” Tony said from the doorway.
The nurse pushing his wheelchair and intravenous tubes clucked her tongue. “He saw the reporter come in and knew you were awake. Now, young man, I’ll just set you over here, by the bed, and you can call if you need anything.”
The two people following him looked resembled him so much that I knew at once they were his parents. They greeted me and gave me kisses, and would have stayed to chat, except that Tony said, “Mind giving us the room for a minute?”
Even my folks excused themselves to the hallway, leaving us alone.
“I guess I’ll be healing a lot faster than you will,” he said. “Turns out that rattlesnakes don’t kill as many people as I thought. Statistically speaking, more people die from bee sting reactions. Funny, huh?”
“Your arm looks terrible.”
“Makes a great story. Do you know how excited folks are that I got bitten by a rattler? Something about conservation efforts finally being successful.”
“Gee. Aren’t we lucky.”
“So, did you enjoy your adventure?” he asked.
I shrugged. “You were right. About the suffering. I think I could tell my folks about what happened all day, and they’ll never quite get it.”
“Stories don’t quite capture the reality, do they? Hey, did you hear?”
“About Drosnin?”
“Heart attack.”
“They told me. Congratulations. You’re free.”
“Free,” he whispered. He stared at the blinking lights on my monitor for a long time before he spoke again. “It’s so unexpected. I don’t know what to do with myself. Mom and Dad say we might even get to move back home.”
“What about his men, though? Mike and everyone else.”
“Exposing Nelson and Mike was the domino that knocked the others down, Alana. A lot happened since we crashed. Most of his crew are behind bars.”
“So you’re going to be okay?”
He flexed his fingers, which had almost returned to their normal size and color. “Yeah, no permanent damage.”
“No,” I said, softening my voice, “I meant if you’re going to be okay.”
He exhaled a slow breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. You?”
“Life’s changing already. I yelled at my folks. Said everything I’ve ever thought of, plus some.”
“Good for you!” His face burst into a radiant smile, making those black eyes of his twinkle.
I caught my breath, feeling myself grinning back.
“I nearly forgot,” he said, pushing my call button. “I have something for you.”
The nurse opened the door. “Yes?”
“Can I have my good luck charm now?”
“Ha! After all the trouble we went through to take it away, you have the nerve to ask for it back.” Through the door, I could see her walk to the nurse’s station, the rubber soles of her white shoes making no noise against the shiny linoleum floor. She returned, pressed something into Tony’s hand, and winked at us. She forgot to shut the door on her way out.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
He held out my missing earring. “I thought you might want this.”
I gasped. “How on earth...?”
“So is your dad going to take you camping now?”
“Yeah, right!” I rolled my eyes. “I’ve had enough of Mother Nature to last a lifetime.”
“Too bad,” he said. “I really wanted to see if those lures worked.”
Dad poked his head through the doorway. “I have a boat,” he hollered.
Tony’s dad poked his head in, too. “I have about fourteen fishing rods you can choose from.”
They were listening to our conversation! I blushed.
“He really does,” Tony said. “My dad thinks he’s a professional fisherman.”
“Well, mine will never say no to a fishing trip,” I replied. “But this time we take bottled waters, cushioned seats, tons of munchies...”
“Definitely munchies. And a pocket knife.”
“And a hand-crank radio flashlight. Deal?”
He closed his warm hand over mine and gave it a brief kiss. “Deal.”
THE END
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