13
Three days later Baxter was said to have been seen on a small island off the coast of Hawaii with Charlie Sheen and Lulu the midget porn queen. Sheen’s publicist said these were merely rumours as the star was on set filming Scary Movie 17.
14
The hospital room seamed quiet to Arvin as he lay in his bed in a cloudy daze. Sleeping on and off throughout the day due to the heavy pain medications and being so groggy he lay very still enjoying the numbness he was experiencing at this very moment. The bullet, by some small miracle, missed his lung and gone straight through him. Having been in an induced coma for days due to infections and complications he was only now spending some time in the land of the living. And with this being his first day awake his hospital roommate had been so kind to loan him a book to read, to help pass the time he had said. Another of Dupres’s old-fashioned expressions thought Arvin as he lay with his copy of “Dark Tales for Dark Nights” laying on his chest with a bookmark protruding at an angle from the middle of it. His roommate Dupres lay in his own bed with his own newly autographed copy of “Sleepless Nights” on his bedside table. On the opposite side sat a vase containing a colourful mixture of flowers on his dinner tray, which had been pulled away a bit. They must have been recently delivered he thought as he didn’t remember them being there when last his eyes stayed open for a while. That’s when he saw Dupres’ eyes open.
“You awake?” he asked.
“I am now,” replied Dupres.
“Who are the flowers from?” asked Arvin.
“Don’t know, I must have been sleeping when they brought them.”
At that moment they both heard the shuffling of feet at the door and a familiar voice.
“You guys are finally awake,” said Derek who was standing at the door holding the hand of a lovely young woman. In the haze of having just awoken Dupres had not recognized the smiling Alli right away. She not only held his hand but also clutched his arm like a girl in love, smiling all the while. Derek also glanced at her with a large smile and love in his eyes. Dupres couldn’t help but think this kid might be all right after all.
Alli nudged Derek making him blush a little before speaking up.
“Cooper wanted to come by and thank you guys for not hanging him out to dry. But being the head of a worldwide tech giant he is quite busy. Especially with all that happened after we uncovered Baxter’s years spent doing favors for all those Hollywood celebrities he idolized so much.”
Alli spoke proudly smiling all the while. “Derek managed to find the layered data that Baxter had been hiding for them.”
Derek smiled at Alli and corrected. “We-we figured it out.”
“Cooper was so impressed that he offered Derek the lead developer job,” spoke Alli.
“Congratulations,” said Arvin.
Alli looked at the flowers and read the card. “Such pretty flowers. Florence, is that your wife?” she asked.
“Captain Silverson sent you the flowers?” said Arvin with a sudden rise in curiosity very apparent in his voice.
Dupres, changing the subject quickly, asked their visitors if they have been watching any of the entertainment shows since Fairbanks was murdered. They discussed the fact that even though Fairbanks died, Connors still didn’t get the movie deal. The movie was scrapped and most likely won’t be made after all.
Alli’s smile vanished. “I watched the interview with Connors and he said that Baxter and he were good friends. And Baxter had become bitter towards Fairbanks since he no longer wanted anything to do with him.”
Dupres turned to Arvin smiling. “Oh and Arvin, I forgot to tell you. You’re going to be a star.” To which Arvin gave him a puzzled look. “Arseneault stopped in yesterday while you were still sleeping and said he backed out of the deal to write the remake of King Kong because he pitched a new idea for a movie to the studios. He is writing a story about the Fairbanks murder called Pre-ordering Murder.”
“Are you serious?” asked a shocked Arvin.
Dupres looked at Arvin and grinned. “Yup, the script isn’t even written yet and they’ve already started pre-selling the movie.”
Flljan, Flljan
1
With both hands clutching the steering wheel of her small hatchback, Margaret sat leaning forward with her face buried in-between her arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Her cheeks soaked with tears as she sat, her spirit finally broken in a long time. Her plain blue jeans and modest looking, off-white top matched her matted down long hair and sneakers. Most women her age still wear trendy clothes and walk around in their high heels, but not this mother. Some might notice the lack of mascara running down her face. That was because she had given up looking after herself long ago and dedicated her life to her son, Andrew.
“I can’t take it anymore, Andrew,” she said softly with her face still buried in her forearms. “I can’t… I don’t know how anymore,” she sobbed. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks.
In the passenger seat, Andrew was overly agitated today and she had no idea why. He’d been this way for the last week.
“Flljan, Flljan!” he said loudly as he rocked his upper body back and forth shaking his forearms with contorted hands as he always did when he got excited. His white bike helmet that he wore most days in the car was coming loose and needed fixing before it fell off. If it fell off and he got too excited he might hit his head in the side window like before.
“I don’t understand what’s gotten into you this week. What is it, Andrew? I wish you could tell me?” she said as she sat up brushing her tears off her cheeks. Looking at him now she could hardly remember the boy he once was three years ago before it all happened.
Andrew was calmer now but still repeated the words he always said when excited. “Flljan, Flljan,” he said while rocking himself back and forth in a calmer fashion while staring at the dashboard.
“Why can’t it be like before?” she said aloud as she took a tissue and wiped the boy’s nose. Not unlike one would do to a three years old. Straightening his helmet she clutched his face as he stopped rocking, her touch calming the boy down like it always did. She often tried remembering him the way he used to be before Dr. Holbrook came into her life. The intelligent boy who used to make his parents proud bringing home A’s and B’s on his report cards. The same boy that his father now insisted should be in a special care home where he would have staff to look after him at all times of the day. A thought that Margaret would have never even consider not even to save her now broken marriage.
It’s hard to even picture him like that anymore after all these years she thought to herself as she straightened up his shirt and jacket, which were getting all twisted up with his constant rocking back and forth on the drive home.
While glancing in her rear-view mirror to see if anyone had pulled up behind her as she sat at the intersection Margaret straightened herself while she spoke quietly. “You know what, Andrew. Today would have been your graduation day.”
To which Andrew murmured something incomprehensible at first. “Mmmmmaaaahh… Flljan, Flljan,” he muttered as he began softly rocking back and forth again.
2
Three years earlier a young and vibrant fourteen year old Andrew wearing his number nine jersey was on the ice for his last hockey game of the season. With the game tied in the last period, Coach Price knew he would face criticism from most of his player’s parents. But to win at this point he had to put his best kids on the ice and even though they wouldn’t admit it they all knew he was right. Most of them would complain about his not giving their kids ice time. Not being fair to their children, putting his favourites on the ice including his own son Troy. They all knew he was trying to give them what they wanted. Bragging rights of winning the tournament, something they hadn’t had for the last six years.
Truth be told, he wanted to win badly and so he played the kids that had drive and loved ho
ckey. Especially when it meant winning the tournament against the Stonevalley Hornets who was their rival team. His Mappletown Rockets had lost the last three tournaments out of six to them and he would be damned if they would lose this one too.
The hardest part was that all these kids from both small communities went to the same amalgamated school. So the rivalry was always fuelled in a social scene full of cruel kids.
“Come on, Corey, Troy, Andrew, get that puck!” he shouted, clapping his hands in support as the kids rushed by their bench. Number thirteen, Troy, rushed the boards pinning a Hornet against them filling the crisp air with the sound of clashing hockey sticks as they struggled over the puck. With a flick of his wrist at the right moment Troy stole the puck and sent it gliding towards Andrew who was in a shoving match with a Hornet. Steven, the star player from the Hornets was more concerned about keeping Andrew from getting the puck than getting it himself. In the heat of the moment he was focused on pushing his rival away from it. But a sure footed Andrew out-skated the opposition most of the time and did it again. Quickly he skated away with the puck that had bounced off Steven’s skate while he wasn’t looking.
On a breakaway with two full minutes left on the clock he headed for the net with confidence that left little Scotty Newman, the Hornets goaltender sweating bullets and shaking like a leaf. With a bluff to the right Andrew shot to the left and with a deafening cheer from the crowd he scored his second goal of the night. You could feel the excitement in the air as the townsfolk cheered for their hometown Rockets.
With a minute twenty two left on the clock now it was up to the boys as all they had to do was keep the Hornets from scoring and they could win. With the score now at four to three in their favour there were many nail biting moments but the Rockets did their part in keeping the Hornets from reaching their goalie. The few times they got the puck and it looked like they would get their chance they would get outdone by Andrew’s ability to glide on the ice. Other parents would often elbow Jeff or his wife Margaret and jokingly say he was NHL material. The couple always beamed with pride as they watched their son play hockey, for he was a natural.
Like something out of a feel good sports movie with thirty seconds left on the clock Scotty stopped the puck from entering the net. This would have given the Rockets a guaranteed win had they scored but Scotty pulled off yet another save. He held the puck for a brief second and then shot it to number thirty-six, which was Andrew’s rival if he was to have one. Steven, who was big for his age of fifteen had the puck and would make his parents proud and tie the game. Or so he thought, but the smaller Andrew’s skating abilities would prevail making thirty-six look bad yet again. Something he had done many times this night and the home crowd loved it.
When the clock ran out the score was still four to three making the Rockets the winners of the tournament. Most likely Andrew would win most valuable player with the most goals and assists this season. A fact that made Steven even angrier as not only did Andrew make him look bad tonight but he would also take the trophy that had been his for the last two years.
Dropping their gloves, sticks and helmets on the ice Andrew and his teammates celebrated their win with loud cheers, pats on the back, hugs and high fives. Having just won the right to celebrate did not sooth the bruised ego of the opposition. Especially not that of their star player, number thirty-six. Steven being a sore loser, a fact that was compounded by the screams and boos of their own so-called supporters including his own parents. Angry, he quickly skated towards Andrew who had his back towards him and out of blind rage he checked number nine in the back, sending the smaller Andrew flying forward onto the ice. Caught off guard he was thrown violently forward on the ice, his bare hands sliding out from under him on the slick ice and hitting his head hard.
After witnessing such an act of unsportsmanlike aggression the entire hockey arena grew very quiet at first with everybody almost holding their breaths as they waited for the boy to get up off the ice. Something he would never do on his own as he lay still on the ice at first. Soon after convulsions started, the gathered coaches and referees called for a stretcher.
“You’re gonna be alright, Andrew,” the panicked coach Price said trying to reassure himself more than anything as he knelt on the cold hard ice next to the twitching star player.
3
Three weeks later an exhausted Margaret was sleeping in the quiet lounge at the Regent Hospital. Her son in a coma, Doctor Holbrook had prepared her for the worst – that Andrew might never wake up. The brain damage was so severe that until the swelling went down they had no idea what his chances were. Something his mother couldn’t accept was that she could possibly have lost her only son.
Sleeping so lightly curled up in the Lazy Boy she heard footsteps near her but after weeks of this she had become accustomed to the staff milling about while she rested. She learned to easily ignore the sounds of their soft soled shoes as they went about their business.
“Mrs Griffard?”
At first she thought she was dreaming when she heard the soft voice that sounded far away yet near her all at the same time.
“Margaret?” This time the voice sounded more inquisitive than before.
Choking on her words the boy’s mother spoke with a dry broken voice. “What? What’s the matter? Was I snoring too loud?”
“It’s Andrew… he’s awake,” replied the voice.
“What?” said the groggy and confused mother. She sat up in her chair trying to process what had just been said to her.
“Your son… he’s awake.”
“Really… oh my God!” Margaret rose from the chair shaking, weak and feeling like she might faint.
Nurse Jenson took her by the arm and walked with her to Andrew’s room as the tears flowed down her cheeks.
Andrew lay in his hospital bed, his hair having almost grown enough to hide the surgical scars by now. A sullen faced Doctor Holbrook standing by the bedside greeted her as she approached the bed to see her son’s eyes open for the first time in weeks.
As Doctor Holbrook spoke he gently touched her forearm and gave her his best bedside manner. “Mrs Griffard, the swelling is almost all gone and even though the damage is not as severe as we had thought, your son has suffered brain damage and most likely will never be the same again. Now we don’t know for sure yet how much damage is permanent but the damage is done and there is really nothing more we can do now but wait.”
Margaret spoke softly touching her son’s hand. “Andrew?” She touched his cheek and sat on the bedside. She watched as her son’s eyes rolled in his head and he tried to speak. “mmmmuhhh… gaaaa… flllll.”
“Just ask the nurses to page me if you need me, Mrs Griffard,” said the doc as he left the room.
“Ffffllljan… Flljan, Flljan….muuuuhhhh… Flljan,” said Andrew before seemingly falling asleep again.
4
Three years later while still sitting at the intersection of Thomas Avenue and Avery Street. Margaret wiped the tears away and looked out at the intersection of Thomas Avenue and Avery Street.
“All the people must be at the school auditorium for graduation today,” said Margaret. She spoke to her son like the accident had never happened even though knowing full well he would not reply. She simply could not break the habit.
“Let’s get home before the traffic gets crazy, huh,” she spoke adjusting her seat belt and sitting up straight. Using a clean tissue she had crumpled in her lap she wiped the drool on her sons chin and she smiled her best smile at him to comfort him.
White helmet now adjusted and strapped in place his mother turned her attention to getting home again. They were no more than a few blocks away and she was thinking that once home she would be able to give him his new medications to help calm him down. Andrew had been very excitable today and she couldn’t figure out why. She never had abandoned her grocery cart in the middle of the store before bu
t today he was just unbearable.
“We’re going to call Doctor Holbrook to make an appointment later. Remember we went to see him last month, Andrew?”
A mere block later Andrew started rocking back and forth again, harder and faster than before. He looked very upset and began speaking very loudly “mmmmmaaaahh… Flljan, Flljan!”
“What has gotten into you today?” asked Margaret knowing full well he would never answer anything other than “Flljan, Flljan”.
Andrew, shaking his forearms as he rocked so hard that his helmet came loose and fell at his feet. “mmmmmaaaahh… Flljan, Flljan.”
An angry and upset Margaret reached before him with her arm in front of her son trying to stifle his constant rocking.
“Andrew… stop it, stop it now you hear me,” she shouted as her car ran the stop sign. She never saw the full-sized king cab truck full of teenagers coming.
5
Little Scotty Newman, who had barely grown since his days playing for the Hornets as goaltender had taken his dad’s work truck without permission on his graduation day. He would have barely saw the small red car over the hood of the large truck had he been paying attention to the road. With the winch making it even more difficult to see anything right in front at first he couldn’t see what he had just hit. He had been too busy trying to stop his friend Steven from texting Scotty’s girlfriend with his iPhone. Steven had just taken it from the console and was threatening to send foolish messages to her with it and Scotty was trying to take his phone away from him.
6
Upon impact her head was turned so while looking at her son her sight was suddenly filled with fluttering white specs of light. The smell and taste of blood filled her nasal passages and mouth. Before she realized what was happening her life essence had already left her body. The impact had crushed the driver’s side killing her almost instantly. The small light vehicle was flung across the road by the large heavy work truck and it only stopped when it slammed into a parked car. Without his helmet Andrew didn’t have a chance as his head bashed into the side window so hard that it snapped his neck and crushed his fragile skull.
Sleepless Nights Page 12