CHAPTER 15
When I wake up, Ashley is at class, but she leaves a note saying that she hopes I feel better when I’m reading this, and that she would text me when she was out of class. I put the note in a binder, and put it in my desk.
I am feeling better than I was yesterday. Maybe it was just a temporary cold. One that just lasts for a couple hours, and then poof, it disappears. Ashley left behind the thermometer, and all of the medicine she brought over. I check my temperature and it’s only ninety eight point nine. The fever’s gone. Might’ve been food poisoning. I try not to think too much about it. I don’t want to jinx myself and end up getting sick again. But I definitely feel like staying here in this town isn’t good for me. I feel like it’s pulling me apart. Too many bad memories in this apartment. Too many bad memories everywhere around here. I should just pack all of my things today, and leave for Europe. Just close my eyes and point to a map, and that will be where I go. But what about Ashley? She has school. She would never leave school to go with me. But I’d want her to. I can’t use her as a crutch. She can’t be a crutch. I can’t turn around and expect her to be there for me every minute of every fucking day. She has her own life. But I can’t help but wonder if she would leave with me. If she would go with me to Europe. Leave this college behind and just, escape.
She texts me around noon and asks if I’m feeling better. I tell her I am, but that I need to talk to her. But I make sure to tell her that it isn’t a bad talk, but a good one. I had heard this before from a lot of guy friends. “She said she just wanted to talk, and then before I knew it, she had broken up with me.” She says okay, and asks if I want to meet somewhere for lunch, and I say yes.
We go to a restaurant a little closer to campus, because she’s got class at three, but I’m still trying to keep as low as possible. When I get there, she runs up and hugs me, and kisses me, and says “There, you’re not sick anymore.” And I laugh at her, and say she’s a goon.
“What did you need to talk about?” We’re sitting down, and the drinks are already there.
“Okay, this is going to sound stupid. But I want you to consider it.”
“Anything you say is going to sound stupid, but I’ll try and translate it.” She smiles, and I breathe for a second.
“I was just thinking about maybe getting out of here for the semester. Going to Europe. Somewhere I’ve never been. Completely random place. I have the money to afford a hotel room for three months, so it’s not a big deal at all in terms of money. But the only thing is, I’d want you to come with me. Because of all the things I want to leave behind in this shitty fucking town, you aren’t one of them. So, I was wondering, if maybe you’d like to come with me. I know it would mean you’d have to drop out this semester, and I know that’s a big thing. I know we haven’t been together that long, but I definitely like you, a lot. If you can’t tell already. You’re the only person I want to be around.” She looks at me, astonished for a moment, and then her eyes start getting watery.
“No, don’t cry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”
“No, it’s not that. I want to go with you. I will go with you. I can take a semester off. I’ll go wherever you need me to go, and as long as I’m with you, I’ll be okay, and we’ll be okay.”
“What about your dad? What do you think he’ll say?”
“My dad basically has to do anything I tell him to, otherwise, I remind him of all the times he beat my mom, and then he crumbles. He keeps on telling me to visit Europe with him and mom when they go, but I never wanted to be stuck in a room with the two of them. But yes, I’ll go.” I get up and I hug her, and I pick her up when I do, and she feels weightless, and we kiss again and again and again, and everyone in the restaurant is staring at us like we have leprosy, but I could give two shits about that, because at this point, I’m hugging my girlfriend, and at this point, I’m hugging someone I can trust, and someone who I know I can put my faith in.
“When are we going to leave?”
“I was thinking in a couple of days. However long it takes me to pick a spot. But because you’re coming with me, I think you should be the one who picks it.” She puts her finger on her chin and taps it.
“I say, England. London or Manchester. Either one is fine with me.” I pick her up again and I feel like a giant weight has been lifted off of me. The memories of Patrick and Sarah are floating away. Down the river they go, past the horizon. Well, one of them will make it past the horizon. The other one might end up below where Patrick is now. Hopefully. I get home and I check for flights to England, and prices on hotels, and prices on everything there. It’s all ridiculously expensive, but I look at my bank account and then I realize I don’t have to care. Even if I spend all of the money my parents left me, at least I’m spending it doing something I want. It’s what they would want. But before I start booking flights, I need to get things here in order. I need to cut all ties for the next three months of my life.
I go to the nursing home where my grandparents are staying, in the dementia ward. They ask for my name, how I know the person I’m visiting, if I have any weapons on me, if I’m aware that they might not recognize me. I tell them the truth, and they unlock the door and I walk in.
“They should be in room two-thirty-four, if I’m correct. That’s where they sleep and spend most of their time. I doubt you’ll find them playing games with the others. They’re not very sociable. No offense.” The nurse says, and she closes the window.
I walk around, looking for room two thirty four, when an old man stops and asks me if I have any oranges. I tell him no, and he says “Pity, I wanted to eat an orange before my daughter came to visit.”
I don’t like this part of the nursing home. I can stand the other floors, because the other floors are filled with people who recognize each other, and who love and care for the people they’re visiting. Up here, it’s like an episode of the Twilight Zone. Where you know the people you’re visiting, but they don’t know you. The last time I came to visit, I stayed for about two minutes, before they both fell asleep in front of me, and kept on telling me to fix the lock. They thought I was a worker there, and they wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to convince them that I was their grandson. The only thing my grandpa said after that was “Fix the goddamn lock, then let yourself out. There’s food in the fridge if you want anything.” That was about two months ago.
Walking past a group of old men, all playing poker, I notice that they’re not playing it like they should. Their hands are revealed the second they’re dealt, and they don’t bet on anything, or collect anything if they have a winning hand. The river comes one card at a time, so the suspense is certainly there. Someone who might have the best hand when the first three cards drop might end up having the worst hand when the last two fall.
“Damn. I didn’t think you’d get that hand. I was so sure it was mine this time.” Some old guy with hearing aids in the size of satellites says.
“I was too. If he hadn’t dropped that queen, it would’ve been.” They all throw their cards back to the dealer, and the dealer shuffles them all slowly, and they all look extremely content. They have no concern with the outside world or what’s going on in it. They hardly have any memories left, so each day they wake up, it’s like they’re being reborn, and I start to envy that.
“Would you like to sit down, son? Share in a hand?” The dealer looks at me, me, not realizing that I have been staring at them playing for five minutes.
“Oh, no. I’m supposed to meet someone here.”
“It would be nice to see some young blood in the game. Come on, sit down. We won’t keep you long, I promise.”
I pull up a chair beside the man with the hearing aids, and shake the hands of everyone playing. First the man with hearing aids, then the guy who hasn’t had a bit of hair on his head in the last twenty years, then a younger man, maybe late fifties, who’s a bit overweight, and then the dealer, who is dressed very properly, and looks to be the only one around here who cares about his appearance.
“Do you know how to play Texas Hold ‘Em? The dealer asks.
“I do. I’ve been watching you all play, so I know how the game goes. Why don’t you bet on the hands you have? Really spark up the game a little.” The dealer shuffles, then smiles, then he looks at me.
“Son, if we bet anything, we might not know we lost it within the hour, and if we saw it again, we wouldn’t know how it got there. So, we thought it best to not bet with objects. Objects are very memory oriented. If you know what I mean. I’d hate to take one of their watches from them, because they might’ve had that watch for fifty years.” He shuffles a little more and deals the cards.
I get an ace of spades and a king of hearts, but the overweight man has two aces, so he has the best hand. The other two don’t have anything really, except a face card and a low number. The dealer places the first three cards on the table, and it’s a king, a jack, and a four. Right now, I’ve got the second best hand, behind the overweight man, who still has two aces, and the bald man has a pair of jacks, whereas the man with hearing aids doesn’t have anything.
“Risky game, risky game. You two are pretty close. If I drop an ace, who knows what might happen. But we’ll have to see.” For some reason, I’m really involved with the game, and I’m actually having fun playing it, because there are no real losses. Not monetary at least. If I come out with a shit hand, I don’t lose anything. Except maybe a bit of good luck. But I can get that back pretty quick, so I realize that we’re not playing for objects, or money, but for luck. Whoever walks away winning the most hands is the luckiest person at the table, and they can gloat about it until the next game is played. The dealer drops the fourth card, and it’s a three of spades, which does nothing for anyone at the table. So we all look around, and then signal the dealer to put down the last card. He glances at it before he sets it down, and big grin comes over his face. It’s a king, and he drops it, and they all tell me congratulations.
“Well, it’s been fun playing with you all, but I really do have to go and see my grandparents.”
“What are their names?” The dealer asks, shuffling cards. “Christine and Lawrence.” I say, and the dealer starts nodding.
“Lovely people, your grandparents. They don’t come out much, but when they do, they always have good stories to tell. Sometimes it’s about, what’s the name…Christopher. Is that you?”
“No, that’s my dad, their son in law.”
“Ah, then they must be getting their names mixed up. The stories they tell are about Christopher when he was a kid, if my memory serves me correctly. So maybe they’ve been talking about you this entire time.”
“That would be nice.” The man with the hearing aids asks if I’d like to sit down for a game of poker, like I just didn’t get up five seconds before.
“Don’t mind him. His memory is gone completely. He hardly remembers his own name. He remembers faces pretty well. If you ever come back to visit your grandparents again, he might remember your face. Granted, he’s still alive.” The dealer deals the cards out, and everyone goes back to playing.
“Thanks for letting me play.”
“Don’t mention it. It was a pleasure. Say hello to your grandparents for me. Tell them James says hello. If they don’t remember my name, just tell them the dealer, then they’ll know.”
I walk down the hallway and it smells like moth balls, and the doors are decorated like doors would be if it was an actual house. Wreaths around the peephole, welcome mats, all saying different things. But it truly does look like a shit ton of old people got together and set up camp here, and I imagine that’s how every nursing home is. They take the homes they leave and bring them with them, which is admirable, seeing how I want to leave the home I have now. I get to door two thirty four, and pause a bit before I knock. I put my ear against the door to see if there’s any sign of life. I don’t want to knock on the door and wake them. There’s the faint sound of a TV playing a western movie with gunshots and Indians screaming at the top of their lungs. So I knock on the door anyway, as loud as I possibly can. My grandma opens the door, and she looks at me, confused.
“We didn’t call the maintenance man. You must have the wrong door, honey.”
I start to think of things I can possibly say to put memories of me in their head, but I’m drawing a blank, and just before I apologize for it and think about walking away, I just blurt out “I’m a friend of Christopher’s. He sent me to see you, make sure you were doing okay.” Her face gets real bright, and she hugs me, and it’s the first time my grandma has hugged me in over six years.
“Come in, come in. How rude of me. Lawrence! One of Christopher’s friends is here to see us.” She yells to him in the living room, where he’s sitting down watching TV. He struggles a bit to get up, but then he comes over to me and shakes my hand, and it’s like they remember me, even if they don’t, and a feeling of warmth comes over me.
“Nice to meet you.” He says, and pats me on the back.
“We haven’t seen Christopher in years. What’s he doing now?”
“Oh, he’s just finishing up college. He’s in his senior year.”
“That’s so wonderful! I’m so glad he’s going to college. I knew his parents wanted him to do that. They would be happy.” My grandma says and then goes to the coffee maker and pours a cup of coffee. She offers some to me, but I turn it down.
“How has he been? Does he like school?” My grandpa says.
“He does. He really does. He’s about to go away to Europe for a couple of months, so he just wanted to check in on you, make sure you two were doing okay. He talks about you two non-stop. You must’ve been really good to him.” I smile and look at them, and they’re both smiling, and it feels like I’m fourteen again.
“Why couldn’t he stop by himself? Not that having you stop by isn’t sweet. I don’t mean to be that way at all. I apologize.”
“No, I understand. He’s probably one of the busiest people I’ve ever met. Hardly has time to sleep. But when he’s not talking about school or business, he’s usually talking about his family, and that’s why he sent me here today.”
“Tell him thank you for thinking of us, and that we love him a lot, and to have fun in Europe.”
“Make sure you tell him to not bring up anything about the holocaust if he visits Germany. They don’t take kindly to that.” I stand up, and I tell them to stay seated, and I give my grandma a hug, and I shake my grandpa’s hand.
“He says he loves you two a lot. That he hopes you’re happy here.”
“Tell him we are for us, if you could.” I nod, and then back out of the door and close it, when I hear ambulance sirens coming up closer and closer, and then I start walking down the hall and see that at the poker table, the dealer is out cold, and the nurses are all over him, checking his pulse, doing whatever they can to keep him alive.
“What happened?” I ask the bald man.
“Might be a stroke. We don’t know. Seizure maybe. The medication he’s on. It would be a shame if he left. We don’t have many people who know how to deal cards here.” He turns around, and they go back to their game, and it’s like nothing all that bad happened, and I look at the dealer and he’s still shaking violently, and I feel somewhat guilty, like maybe I had taken away all the good luck from the room.
I get out of there, and out of the way of the ambulance, and I sit in my car and wait for them to drive him away. Then I start to think I should call my psychiatrist and tell her that I won’t be making it to any appointments soon, but then I think, maybe I should go see her, and talk to her about my trip to Europe. The only problem is if those two white trash pieces of shit are still sitting outside, waiting for the old man to die, waiting to spot me. But I say fuck it, and call her anyway. The receptionist says she has a free time in an hour, but that’s usually when she takes her lunch. I ask if she can make an exception for me and she puts me on hold for five minutes, and then comes back and says that she will, as long as I don’t mind watching her eat. I say I don’t, and then hang up.
When I get to the hospital, I check the benches in the front, making sure no one’s sitting there, and I walk very casually to the entrance, with my head bowed down and my eyes on the floor the entire time, just in case they’re waiting for me to come back in so they can grab me. I can hear the man saying now.
“Guy just got up for no fucking reason and started beating me up. I tried to stop him. I tried pleading with him. All the while, my wife is sitting there, scared out of her mind, holding our little boy, who’s crying his eyes out.”
That’s exactly how his story would go. It doesn’t matter if I say it isn’t, and that they were choking their son, whether they gave a shit or not. The wife would agree with the story, and then they’d have me locked up. I get inside the waiting room on the third floor without anybody looking at me and I’m there fifteen minutes before my appointment, and the psychiatrist comes out and tells me to come on in.
“I hope you don’t mind me eating while you’re talking. I should only be eating for ten minutes. I’m usually a fast eater. But one of my biggest pet peeves is when my food gets cold, so don’t take any offense if I take a while to answer your questions.”
“Don’t worry about it. This is going to be our last meeting for some time.” She takes a bite or her cheeseburger, and then takes a sip from her cup.
“Why is that?”
“I’m going to Europe for the next three months with my girlfriend.”
“Are you sure that’s the right thing for you to do?”
“Every time I think about it, I get happy, so I’m thinking yes. It’s got to be better than sitting around this shit hole of a town, being reminded that my best friend is gone and sitting inside that goddamn apartment where it happened.” She takes another bite and another sip, and then holds her finger up as she swallows.
“But what about when you come back? Won’t it just be the same as it was?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’ll be looking at it from a different perspective, you know? Like, all of the shit that’s happened will have washed over by then. I think it’s going to be nice.”
“Do you want my personal opinion on this?”
“By all means, go right ahead. I can’t stop you in the first place.” She eats some fries and then puts her hands in her lap.
“I would say not to go, and to face the problems you have here until they’re no longer there. But, if the problems here are really eating away at you as bad as you make it seem, then maybe a change of scenery would be nice. I don’t know. I’m undecided on the matter for the moment. Might be the hunger.” She laughs and then eats more fries.
“Last weekend, being out of town, getting out of here, I felt great. Happy even. I was in good company, and I didn’t have to worry about the shit back here. So, this really seems like the right move for me.”
“I’m guessing my opinion isn’t going to change your mind?”
“I doubt it. Sadly. I just thought you should know.”
“I’m glad you came here to tell me, and I’m glad you made up your mind so quickly, going to Europe on a whim. Very unlike you, from what I’ve heard. Are you sure you want to spend three months with a girl you haven’t known for more than two weeks?”
“Yes. I thought about that a lot too. And if we end up breaking up, or she ends up cheating on me while we’re there, or vice versa, she can always go back home and I can stay there by myself. It’s an open ended ticket. There are no ties that bind her to me, in any way, shape or form.”
“Okay, then I’m for it, if you think it’s the best choice for you.”
“I do.”
“But let me warn you. If problems start happening there, then you’ll be stuck between two piles of shit, won’t you?”
“I guess you’re right. So all I have to do is make sure not to get into any trouble over there, and I should be fine.” She gives a slight nod, and then points to my hand, still covered in gauze.
“What happened?”
“Oh, that. I slammed my hand into my car door. I wasn’t thinking right at the moment. Stupid me I guess.”
“You’ve got to be more careful. Watch out for things like that. I’d hate to go to your funeral and for the preacher to say that you died getting your tie caught in a blender, or something stupid.”
“I’ll be more careful from now on.”
“Jesus, you never know what can happen. Some guy got mugged in front of the hospital just the other day. He was just sitting there, minding his own business, and someone came by and sucker punched him, broke his teeth out, and left with his wallet.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“Well, not too terrible. The guy apparently had a gun on him, no license, nothing, so when the cops got there, they handcuffed him to the hospital bed.” I breathe in very deeply, then breathe out slowly.
“That’s good they got him then. Don’t want people walking around with guns without permits. They could do anything they want with them.”
I tell her goodbye, and leave the room and she wishes me the best of luck. I duck out of the hospital the same way I came back in, and make sure that no one recognizes me and don’t end up in prison with the guy who I beat up to get there.
Ashley calls me when I get out to my car and says there’s good news and bad news.
“Which do you want to hear first?”
“The good news, of course. Then the bad news, then the good news again.”
“Okay, well. The good news is that my dad gave the go ahead on me going to Europe and take the semester off. I told him about what had happened here and about how much it upset me, and blah, and I cried a little bit, and he told me it sounded like a good idea. So that part was extremely easy.”
“So what’s the bad news?”
“The bad news is, he wants to meet you first. Wants to have you over for dinner tonight to talk to him. That’s the way my dad is. He’d like to know you first before he sends you off with his only living daughter.”
“That’s not too bad. I can do it, easy. I’m great with the parents.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, my dad can be a bit of an asshole. So if he starts being mean, just shut up and take it. It’s how he’s going to judge your character. If you snap back, he’ll know you’re not strong. He’s weird like that.”
“Okay, so don’t be a snake. Got it. How am I getting there?”
“James will be by your place to pick you up at five.”
I go back to the apartment and get ready, making sure I’m dressed as well as I possibly can be. A dark blue button up shirt, with a striped white and dark blue tie, and a pair of khakis. I don’t want to look like a slob. I have to keep my head on straight, because he’s the one who decides whether or not Ashley’s coming or going. And all it takes is one slip up, and bam! I’m out of there. So I dig through the medicine cabinet and find some Xanax I hadn’t taken in a while and take one before James is supposed to pick me up, and then I put one in my pocket for before I get there.
He gets there at exactly five and he gets out of the car and holds the back door open, and I ask him if it’s okay if I sit up front. He laughs and says sure, and that it would be nice to have a passenger.
“So you’re finally meeting the father, huh?”
“Looks like it. Have to sit down at dinner with him. All those knives sitting around the table. Anything goes wrong, at least I have some protection.”
“Ha, I wouldn’t count on a knife to protect you. Unless you can throw it. Mr. Mitchell has done a lot for me. So I can’t say anything bad about him. Just keep on your good behavior. Keep good manners. If he crushes your hand when you shake it, you let him do it. If he wants you to eat in the kitchen while the rest of them eat at the table, then pick up your plate and go.”
I should be more nervous at this point, but the Xanax is helping keep my heartbeat to a normal rate, and I’m not as scared as I was when Ashley had called.
“Are you going to be eating with us?” I ask James.
“No, not tonight. They invited me, but I told them I had things to do.”
“What things do you have to do?”
“Nothing. But that’s still a thing. They’ll call me before you’re about to leave, and I’ll come pick you up.”
“Did you tell Mr. Mitchell anything about me from last weekend?”
“I told him you were a very nice boy, and that you treated his daughter with respect, and you were very kind.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate that.” I close my eyes for a second.
“I also told him you were a Satanist, and liked to pick on the mentally challenged. So, we’ll have to see how it goes.” He busts out laughing and I laugh too, only, mine is more nervous.