by Xavier Mayne
Donnelly nodded seriously, and they began to plan.
Another hotel
DONNELLY KNOCKED on the hotel room door, willing his knees to stop knocking along. He hated this moment the most—the first three seconds of being undercover, when scrutiny is the greatest, always made him the most anxious. If he could get through that, he could pull it off. Mostly he held his breath and tried to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest.
The door swung open, and instead of a suspicious glare, he was met with a welcoming smile.
“Right on time,” Mr. Hendricks said as he waved Donnelly into the room. “I remember you were always a responsible young man, Randy.”
As far as Donnelly knew, Mr. Hendricks had never met Randy Filkins, but the misplaced compliment was what allowed Donnelly to let out that first anxious breath. In Donnelly’s experience, people liked their past to line up with their present, even if they had to make up their past wholesale. His impersonation had worked well enough that Trevor’s father was remembering him fondly.
“Thank you for letting me have dinner with Trevor,” he said as he stepped into the room. Mrs. Hendricks was at the vanity putting on earrings and smiling at him in the mirror.
“You really are so nice to do this for us,” she said, smoothing her blouse and tucking a stray bit of hair back into place. “No one’s offered to let us just have dinner together for years and years.”
The warden complains about how hard it is to keep prisoners, Donnelly thought. But he kept his solicitous smile firmly in place. “That must be really hard, with all that you do for Trevor.” The bitter taste of sucking up nearly clogged his throat, but he forged ahead. “You take your time tonight. I have a lot to tell Trevor, updating him on what our classmates are up to—especially my sister.” He managed a sly wink at Mrs. Hendricks that instantly made him feel dirty. But it was for a good cause, he reminded himself.
“Now, Trevor should be nice and calm tonight,” Mrs. Hendricks said, picking up her purse. “I gave him a higher dose of his mood medicine than usual because we need him to be focused tomorrow.”
Donnelly saw in the mirror that he winced at this before he had a chance to stifle the instinct. “You really do so much for him, don’t you?” he blurted, covering his disgust at the way they manipulated Trevor’s emotions.
But the comment hit home. Mrs. Hendricks stepped closer to him and laid a hand on his arm. “You don’t know how wonderful it is to hear that someone notices all we do,” she said, a proud smile on her face. “Mostly it’s a lot of thankless effort. I appreciate so much that you would say that.”
Donnelly summoned up his most shit-eating smile and willed himself to be silent.
“Reservation was for five minutes ago,” Mr. Hendricks called from where he was standing next to the open hotel room door.
Mrs. Hendricks fixed him with an icy glare, then turned back to Donnelly. “I’ve ordered dinner for you boys—I hope you don’t mind.” Were she actually concerned he might mind she would have paused here, but she did not. “They have a few of Trevor’s favorites on the menu, and he eats the same meal every night.”
“I’m sure that’ll be just fine,” Donnelly answered. “Now you two should get going before they give your table away.” He smiled, hoping his true emotions were not visible under his vapid grin.
“Thank you again for your interest in Trevor,” Mrs. Hendricks said as she joined her husband at the door. “I wish everyone he went to school with was as concerned as you are.”
“Enjoy your dinner,” Donnelly said, willing them to just leave already.
“We will,” Mrs. Hendricks said with a smile as she stepped into the hall. She immediately stepped back in. “Just so you’re prepared, when Trevor has just taken his mood medication, he tends to be pretty quiet. He may not talk much tonight. But you can be sure he hears you, even if you can’t really tell he’s listening.”
Donnelly smiled until his face ached, and finally the door closed behind the Hendrickses. He rubbed his sore cheeks and walked quickly to the connecting door, thinking about what Mrs. Hendricks had just said. It did not bode particularly well for the plan they had in mind.
He knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar. “Trevor? It’s Randy. Can I come in?”
There was no answer.
Donnelly slowly opened the door, and found Trevor sitting in the same chair, wearing the same getup as earlier in the day: a blanket and a knit cap. He sat staring at the window, though all he could see of it was the heavy curtains that covered it.
“Trevor?”
If he heard, he gave no outward sign.
Donnelly approached gradually, not wanting to startle him. He lowered himself gently into the chair opposite Trevor’s, with a small coffee table between them. He studied Trevor’s face, looking for some sign of awareness, any indication at all that Trevor knew he was here.
Nothing.
“Trevor?” Donnelly repeated, this time a little more loudly.
More nothing.
With a rising desperation in his chest, Donnelly leaned across the table and set his hand on Trevor’s knee, much as he had done earlier in the day.
He was unprepared for Trevor’s shrieking.
Recoiling from the screaming, Donnelly threw himself backward, knocking over his chair and tumbling to the floor with a great thud.
Trevor wailed until his breath failed, and then he brought both hands up to his face as if shielding himself from Donnelly.
Donnelly was surprised by how loud the pounding in his head was, but as he righted the chair, he realized the pounding was coming from the door. He ran to it and looked through the viewer. He saw a fish-eye view of a frantic Sandler, who continued to knock. Donnelly opened the door and waved him in.
“What the—” Sandler demanded, falling silent when Donnelly made wild shushing motions at him.
Donnelly pulled him into the room and shut the door behind them.
“What was that awful noise?” Sandler demanded in a harsh whisper. “I know you told me to wait down the hall until you came out to get me, but I saw the Hendrickses leave and then that horrible moaning started. What happened?”
Donnelly put his hands on Sandler’s shoulders. “It was Trevor. He wasn’t responsive, so I called his name a couple of times and then put my hand on his knee. I did the same thing earlier today, and he was fine, but this time he just went ballistic.”
They both turned and looked at Trevor, who sat with his face buried in his hands. His agitated panting was the only sign of life.
Donnelly turned back to Sandler and saw his friend frozen, staring at Trevor from within a mask of expressionless shock. “Sandler?”
Nothing.
“Sandler, are you okay?”
Sandler jolted as if awakened suddenly but didn’t take his eyes off Trevor. “That’s him,” he whispered. “It’s really him?”
“It’s really him.” Donnelly looked over at the still-frozen Trevor. “Though right now it kind of looks like we’ve lost him.”
“No,” Sandler said, his voice flat and low. “No. I didn’t suffer all those years and come all this way to lose him now. No.” He took a step toward Trevor.
Donnelly grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks. “Hold on. Do you think that’s a good idea? Maybe we should wait until he snaps out of it.”
Sandler lifted Donnelly’s hand off his arm. “I have to go to him. You understand that, don’t you? I’m all he has. I’m not leaving here without him.”
This was not going at all the way Donnelly had hoped, and his instincts told him to call it off and work on a plan B. But he saw in Sandler’s face exactly the pain and desperation he would feel if someone were to try to keep him from Brandt, and he gave his instincts the night off. “Take it slow, okay?”
Sandler nodded. He walked over and knelt next to Trevor. “Trev?” he said softly.
Trevor fell still, as if holding his breath.
“Trev, it’s me. It’s Sandler.�
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Trevor’s hands dropped from his face, but he didn’t turn to Sandler. He stared down at his hands, now lying in his lap, and moved no more.
“Trevor, it’s Sandler.” He reached out and put his hand gingerly atop Trevor’s, which made Donnelly wince and step back.
But instead of a recurrence of Trevor’s banshee turn, there was silence. Then, slowly, Trevor turned to look at Sandler. Their eyes locked for a long moment.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Sandler said, smiling broadly.
Trevor studied his face for another few seconds, then dropped his gaze back to his lap, his face expressionless.
“Trev?” Sandler said with a catch in his voice. When there was no reaction from Trevor, he began to softly sob, though he didn’t take his eyes off him.
“Maybe we should leave him alone for little while,” Donnelly suggested. “See if he comes around?”
Sandler shook his head. When he replied to Donnelly, he didn’t take his eyes off Trevor. “No. I’m going to sit with him for as long as it takes. I’ll reach him. I have to.”
Donnelly looked at the two of them, his heart breaking. They had been kept apart so cruelly, and now that they were finally together, they might as well have been on opposite sides of the globe. He wished there were something he could do to help. But the only thing that came to him was to offer them the dignity of privacy. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me, okay?”
Sandler, crying softly, nodded.
Donnelly backed out of the room and shut the connecting door behind him.
“TREVOR, I’M right here next to you. I came as soon as I found out where you were.”
Trevor sat motionless, expressionless.
“They didn’t tell me where you were, or even that you were alive,” Sandler continued, his voice steady and even. “I’ve spent every day since the accident trying to find anything like the happiness we had together. It doesn’t work without you, Trev. Nothing works without you.”
Sandler studied Trevor’s blank stare and felt rage against the injustices they’d suffered rise in his chest, thick and hot, squeezing out the air in his lungs. He had to come up with some way to reach him, to make him realize that they were back together again and that things would be better.
“Trevor, can you hear me? It’s Sandler, Trev.” He fell silent, looking into Trevor’s wide, blank eyes.
A few minutes later, Donnelly stepped back into the room. He looked inquisitively at Sandler, who got up and walked over to the connecting door.
“How’s he doing?” Donnelly asked.
Sandler shook his head—the sadness that welled up in his throat kept him from saying anything.
“Keep trying,” Donnelly said, putting his arm consolingly around Sandler’s shoulders.
“It’s not working. I don’t know what to do,” Sandler whispered.
Donnelly pulled Sandler into a hug. It was exactly what Sandler needed—once again, he was surprised by how effortlessly Donnelly seemed to know what to do to help the people around him.
Sandler tightened his grip on Donnelly, drawing strength from him, feeling the warmth of hope flicker back to life. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Donnelly stroked Sandler’s back and held him tight. “You can do this,” he murmured.
Sandler stepped back from their embrace, took a deep breath, and nodded. “I can do this,” he said, almost believing it.
Donnelly smiled bracingly, then stepped back out through the connecting door, while Sandler returned to kneel at Trevor’s side.
He whispered soothingly to him, hoping to make some connection.
Nearly a half hour later, Sandler heard Donnelly walking up behind him. Trevor, having taken no discernible notice of Sandler, seemed likewise unaware of Donnelly’s approach.
Sandler craned his head up at Donnelly, who stood behind him. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he said.
“Dinner arrived, if you think food might help.”
“I’ll try anything.”
They brought in the meal that Mrs. Hendricks had said was composed of Trevor’s favorite foods. It was clear that his culinary tastes were frozen in high school; the tray contained pizza, french fries, and what the Swiss apparently considered hot dogs.
“Ugh,” Sandler said under his breath. “No wonder he’s not feeling great.”
“They’re probably trying to keep him fed and happy while they prep him for the doctor,” Donnelly said, shivering visibly.
Sandler picked up some pizza, put it on a piece of hotel china, and held it out to Trevor. “Trev? Want some pizza?” He noticed his hand was shaking, betraying his desperation. “Please, Trevor?”
There was no response.
Sandler set the plate down on the coffee table with a clatter. Even that sudden, sharp noise brought no reaction. “I don’t know what to do,” he said quietly. He felt all of the promise that seemed to fill the world an hour ago was gone, gone utterly.
“Sandler?” Donnelly said softly. “We may have to consider whether what we’re doing is really best for Trevor. We didn’t expect him to be this way.”
“What are you suggesting?” Sandler said, getting to his feet. “That we just leave him here?”
“No, I’m not suggesting that,” Donnelly said calmly. He led Sandler through the connecting door, closing it behind them. “I just think we should consider whether it’s responsible of us to remove him from the care of his parents before we know his condition.”
“His parents don’t care about him,” Sandler said, anger and frustration and despair rising in his chest. “They wouldn’t be doing this if the cared about him.”
“You’re right. Of course you’re right. I’m not saying we leave him here. I’m just suggesting that we may not be able to take him to our hotel tonight. We may need to get him into another doctor’s care right away, and that will take some additional planning. Otherwise, if we seek medical help for him nearby, we risk the Hendrickses showing up and just taking him back. They do have the power of attorney.”
“But they want to make him worse, not better,” Sandler blurted angrily. “That’s not what he would want, you know that!”
Donnelly took a deep breath and looked at Sandler, encouraging him to do the same. Sandler mirrored his exaggerated breathing motions.
“Good,” Donnelly said, calmly. “Now, we don’t know what Trevor’s medical issues are—setting aside his parents trying to drug him into being straight. We don’t know what injuries he suffered in the accident, and he can’t tell us what medication he’s taking. We may need to take a step back and reevaluate our plan.”
“I won’t leave him here.”
“I’m not saying we should leave him here. But unless we have a solid plan, we won’t help him at all. We don’t want to do more harm than good. We don’t have the information we need right now to know we’re doing the right thing for Trevor.”
“I can’t… I don’t know what to….” Sandler shook his head, clearing it of all the impossible half thoughts that filled it. “I need to see him again.”
He bolted through the connecting door, back to the motionless Trevor. He threw himself at the side of Trevor’s chair, and summoned up the courage to try again. “Trevor—”
Then he saw it.
The piece of pizza he had set down on the coffee table had one perfect, serrated half-moon bite out of it.
That. That was hope. Sandler was not going to let this opportunity go.
“Gabriel,” he called, not taking his eyes off Trevor. Donnelly ran into the room. “Kerry’s downstairs, right?”
“Yes, she’s holding a town car for our getaway drive.”
“Get her up here, now.”
“Okay….” Donnelly moved immediately to the hallway door. “What should I tell her?”
“Just tell her to get up here.”
Donnelly disappeared through the doorway.
“Trev, want some more pizza?” Sandler said, a soft singsong in his v
oice.
He thought he saw a flicker in Trevor’s eye, but no other motion was forthcoming. He repeated his question several times, waiting an agonizing minute or more between offers.
“Fine,” Sandler said. “I’m gonna eat it if you don’t want it.” The teasing in his voice more prominent now, he danced the pizza in front of Trevor’s blank face. He was sure he was about to break through.
Sandler took a bite of the pizza, purposely chomping the part that Trevor had bitten, subsuming the earlier half-moon with a huge, gaping wound in the side of the pizza slice.
“Ha. You always did have a little mouth. It’s too full of all of those perfect teeth.”
The hallway door swung open, and Kerry and Donnelly came barreling into the room.
“Sandler, what is it? How can I help?” Kerry demanded as she stormed over toward the window.
“I need you to do something for me,” Sandler said, barely taking his eyes off Trevor.
“Anything,” she replied without hesitation. She cast a look behind her at Donnelly. “Good lord he’s cute—look at those cheekbones.”
“I need you to look at his medications,” Sandler continued. “See if you can figure out what they’re treating him for. We need to be sure when we move him that we know what’s going on medically.”
“Got it,” she said, and darted into the bathroom. Just as quickly she came jogging back through the room. “Nothing there—they probably keep his meds in the other room.” She disappeared through the connecting doorway.
“Gabriel, can you find a suitcase or something for him?” Sandler said, not really a question. “They may have something packed for his visit to the clinic, but in case they don’t, I want to be sure we’re ready to roll.”
Donnelly looked around the room and, as Sandler had expected, found nothing of use. “I’ll go check next door,” he said, bounding through the connecting doorway.
Sandler stared at Trevor’s expressionless face, and knew he had one last chance. He got to his feet, moved the coffee table bearing the twice-bitten pizza aside, and stood directly in front of Trevor. He took a deep breath—he knew he needed to do this, but he felt anxious about it nonetheless—he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, then pulled them down a little. Then he slipped a thumb into the waistband of his underwear and tugged them down, exposing his left hip.