Schuyler crosses his legs. "It's okay. Can we watch TV?"
"Sure, might take my mind off things."
He chuckles. "SVU then?"
I groan again. "Please no. Something pleasant."
"Should've brought some movies."
"Maybe next time."
Schuyler clicks the TV on. "Next time you wind up in the hospital?"
"Hell no. Next time you visit."
He shrugs. "I'm not going anywhere..." He gestures to a duffel bag that I guess I should've noticed before. "Brought some clothes. I'll be here until you leave."
"Really?" I squeak.
He smiles and looks at the TV. "Don't want to miss anything."
Chapter Seventeen
Morphine slams my system right into hibernation. It's great. I'm not even dreaming, or maybe I am. I open my eyes occasionally. It's dark in here now. The light of the TV shines on Schuyler's face. He does not look comfortable in that little chair. Every so often a nurse comes in and jacks with my lines, or takes my blood pressure. I try to wait for them to go to the bathroom. I can get there by myself, but it's not pretty. I'm just ruminating on the condition of my bladder, when a tall man comes floating into my field of vision. He's blocking the TV, not that I care.
"Meegan Jones." He says.
I blink up at him... wait for it... its coming, There! I recognize him. "Mr. Mills." I croak.
He smiles. "They're keeping you comfortable I see." I smile too. He looks a lot like Schuyler, very nice. "I came to tell you," He pauses here. "To ask you, if you would consider coming to our country house for your recuperation."
"I don't know." I whisper. "I think I'll be Okay."
His eyebrow cocks and he looks just like Schuyler when he does that. "Up and down three flights of stairs, you'd fall and wind up right back here." He gestures, vaguely indicating the hospital.
"Well," I guffaw. "You have no faith in me."
Mr. Mills whips out another reassuring smile. "I have so much faith in you, Miss Jones."
"Call me Meegan please."
"Meegan, please, come stay with us until you get better. Mr. Abraham will take care of all your affairs in the city. It's better for everyone, especially you."
I blink a few times. "Us?"
He nods. "Schuyler has agreed to come home to keep you company."
"Why? I mean I know Schuyler would do it, but why are you offering."
Mr. Mills looks uncomfortable for a moment, which quickly translates into irritation. "Schuyler told me you agreed that certain things need not be..."
"Ah, I get it." I mumble, interrupting him. "Forgive my sluggish comprehension sir, it's the drugs." I whisper the last three words dramatically.
Mr. Mills bristles. Maybe he doesn't like being interrupted. "I just think it will be easier, Meegan, to limit any unwanted access to you, until you're less vulnerable."
I suck in some air and close my eyes. "Okay, Mr. Mills. Thank you for saving me."
"Of course, my dear." His voice is all honey and smooth again.
"Hmmm." Ow. I hit my red button, and the next time I open my eyes the elder Mills is gone.
Life has become a very, very slow disco. I'm experiencing a strobe effect on heroin. Flash on: the room in predawn dimness. There's Luck standing down by my feet. He's eating something. I'm glad to see him. Flash off: sleep. Flash on: a trip to the bathroom. My cooch hurts. Flash off: sleep. Flash on: the TV is blaring. Schuyler's talking on the phone. Flash off: sleep. Flash on: left handed breakfast. I manage the peaches and some juice. Flash off: sleep.
Flash on: Schuyler is talking to me. "Meegan! Meegan focus!"
I blink. "Trying, sugar."
He's handing me the phone. "Melody Smith needs to talk to you."
I grab it, awe hell. "Hello."
"Meegan, sweetie!" Her voice is an air horn. "Oh my God! Are you okay?"
"Yeah."
"Well, sweetie, you've got your job back whenever you're ready."
"Really." There's no emotion in my voice.
"Yes, honey. Some coworker trying to get you in trouble. Just like we thought."
"Who?"
"It's confidential, Meegan. You know I can't say."
"Sorry, drugs."
"Oh, I can imagine. Broken in four places, poor baby. I'm so glad you decided to consent to DNA on the Cameron Murphy case."
"I did." I meant it as a question but it didn't come out that way.
"I have a real good feeling about it. That Kevin Godfrey is a looker too."
"Godfrey."
"Oh yes. The Geoffreys thing was a clerical error honey."
"What?"
"Oh sweetheart, you're so doped up right now. Let Mr. Abraham explain it later okay?"
"Okay?" I look at Schuyler. He bats his eyelashes all innocent, and maybe he is. "Is your father a big, fat, manipulator or what?"
Melody's voice rings with confusion. "What was that, sweetie?"
"Nothing. Later, Mel."
"It's Melody dear."
"K bye." I hang up and hand Schuyler the phone.
"What'd he do?"
I sigh. "Never mind. I'll just have to fix it when I get better, which I suppose I'll be doing with you in the country."
"What?!"
I blink. "That's what he said. You agreed to come home and help keep me company while we... I'm going to sleep."
"Fuck!"
His consternation makes me smile. As long as I'm not the only one being played it's cool. Flash off: sleep. Flash on: lunch tray and blood pressure. Flash off: sleep. Flash on: bathroom, pain, push the button. Flash off: sleep.
Flash on: Schuyler's voice. "Yeah. She's doped up but you can come... Please. That'd be great... No. She never told me... Really?" He laughs. "...They say only another day, since we'll have a nurse at the house... Rockford... She'll be glad to see you..." This pause is very long. "Okay, see you then." I open my eyes. Ooo! The little dude is back. He's standing right by Schuyler's feet and he's got clothes on. The clothes are odd, other worldly, or maybe European. I laugh silently at the thought. I wave at Luck. He shoots me a grin. Flash off: sleep.
Flash on: I open my eyes, and Qasim is standing over me. He looks so good. His hair is tied back. He's wearing work clothes. It's dim in here, dusk maybe?
"Hey." He whispers. His voice is horse. What's that look on his face?
"Cheer up." I slur. "You look good."
He smiles ruefully. "I'm glad you're going to be okay." I sigh and wince. Man, pain is boring. "I brought the letters." He adds.
I nod slightly. "Thanks. Schuyler needed them for something." I sound unsure of myself. I look around the room. "Where is he anyway?"
Qasim looks down. "Went to get some food he said."
"Ah... Sorry about missing our date."
He laughs bitterly. "Me too." I smile dreamily up at him, but then I remember that I have no idea how I look. Maybe I'm smiling like a lunatic. Ooo! There's Luck. He's standing right next to Qasim, and looking up at him with interest. Luck reaches out a knobby hand and runs his fingers down Qasim's calf. Qasim yelps and jumps about a foot. He looks nervously around the room, and then he notices me staring at the little guy whom he clearly cannot see.
"What is it?" Qasim squeaks. I look at his face. He seems really freaked out.
I set my eyes to reassuring. "Don't worry." I say sleepily. "I don't think he's going to hurt you."
Qasim shivers a bit and goes pale under the fluorescents. "I should go." He mumbles. "You need to sleep."
I exhale and look at the TV. Huh, Jerry Springer. "Bye."
"Bye Meegan." Flash off: sleep.
Flash on: pain. I hit the button.
"There is no more." Schuyler says.
I look at him. "Why not?"
He shrugs and eyes me apologetically. "Doctor thinks you were over doing it. You kept hitting it in your sleep."
"Oh."
"Sorry." He points to the wheelie table that they usually set the meal trays on. "Ashley came and le
ft you a letter. She said to tell you that she's really sorry about everything, and she wants you to call her when you feel better."
I groan. Ashley seems like an irrelevant memory. "My side hurts."
Schuyler nods. "It's going to."
"Yeah."
He gestures to the table again. "Mr. Abraham left some papers for you to sign. FMLA leave, permission for him to act on your behalf, access your checking account to pay your bills, that kind of thing."
I glance at the table and whine. "How can I sign them left handed?"
Schuyler stands. "I've been thinking about that. Your fingers still work. I can hold the documents up to your hand." He circles the bed and gives me a pen. I curl my fingers around it, and find that it doesn't hurt to do so. I can do this. I smile. Schuyler leans the papers against his book, and helps me get the job done, pointing out all the little exes so I don't miss anything. I'm sure there's more here than is strictly necessary. I mean how many signatures does it take to pay my phone bill?
"What am I gonna do about my apartment?" I ask, as he retrieves the pen.
"Don't worry. He's on it." Schuyler smiles. It's such a nice smile. "You also just consented to have DNA tests run at Mr. Abraham's discretion."
"Fuck!" My voice is harsh. "You would trick me like that?"
Schuyler looks hurt. "You said it was okay."
"No, Schuyler, I'm sure I did not say it was okay! You don't know what it's like, watching those people get their hopes crushed. Hand me that paper! I'm tearing it up."
A weird and dark kind of look crosses Schuyler's face. "No." He says quietly.
My eyes bug out. "No?" I feel heat rise to my face. "What do you mean no?" Mother Fucker!
Schuyler's jaw goes stiff. I see a little vein pop on his forehead. His voice is terribly quiet. "I mean no, Meegan."
I'm furious. I lean up to reach for the papers with my left hand. It hurts like a bitch. I stretch, and it makes me moan involuntarily. Schuyler heartlessly slides the table out of my reach. What? How could he do that? Bitch! Fuck pain. Fuck him! I swing my legs over the side of the bed and jump to my feet. And now I yell out pathetically. My hoo ha screams. It feels like my ribs are trying to escape.
"Fuck." I'm crying and holding myself with my left arm. I think I'm going to fall. Schuyler's face changes instantly. He's at my side, gingerly supporting my weight, easing me back onto the bed. I'm sobbing. "I want to hit you." I whine.
"So hit me." He says tonelessly.
I press my lips together and look at his face, trying to decide where to strike him. Miserable, manipulative, son of a bitch. I'm grinding my teeth. I picture my fingernails raking over his face, across his cheek, drawing blood. It looks good. Now I picture the marks on him and I imagine the look in his eyes when I do it. But I also imagine him in pain, and I imagine me knowing I caused it... I envision trying to explain it to other people... Trying to explain it to him. Fuck. I make a noise that's part sigh and part growl. Tears run down my face soaking into the nose dressing. I sniffle and it hurts a lot... What can I say? I grit my teeth, and scoot myself back on the bed. Schuyler reaches out to help me but I ignore him and swing my legs up all by myself. I sit straight and fold my legs together Indian style. It's painful, but it feels good too. Delicately I wipe my black eyes and stare out of the window.
"Meegan." His voice is so low, soothing really. I look at him but whatever he was going to say seems to die in his throat. I'm still so mad. "We're leaving in the morning." Ah, he's trying to be reasonable.
I want to say fuck you, or fuck off, or go fuck yourself, but I'm just looking at his face. "You look tired." I come out with at last.
He nods. "I am tired."
And now I feel like an asshole. "What can I do for you?" I'm still angry, but its fading fast, maybe I'm Irish.
He shakes his head. "Nothing. Don't get beat up again."
I look away, and straighten my shoulders. It kills but its better right this second than falling back into pharmaceutical sleep. "Did I really say it was okay?"
He runs his hand over his face. "Yeah." But he's not making eye contact, so I'm not sure I believe him.
"That's not like me." I tell him.
He nods. "Mr. Abraham's coming to talk to you. That reporter has been calling, and Mr. Abraham wants to go over what you'll tell him."
"Nothing about Kelly. I already agreed to that."
Schuyler looks at me funny. "I think you'll like River Bend."
I take it the country house has a name. Rich people are weird. "I've been considering reconsidering it."
He's glowering at the floor now. "Because I told you no."
Well, that makes me sound like a spoiled brat. "Because I feel like I'm being manipulated."
Schuyler smiles and makes a helpless gesture. It reminds me of my dream. "I don't know what to tell you." He says. "All the arrangements are made. You're set to stay with us through the New Year at least." He looks at me. "I know it's different, but my family... they're not that bad, and my Dad's grateful to you. If you don't let him help you now..." He shrugs. "Of course you don't have to come, but you already said you would."
I sigh. "Look, honey." I lift his chin with my hand. "Let's stop this awkward, negative shit. I don't want to be mad. There's enough going on without you and me getting all weird. I'll go with the program." I shrug, which hurts like hell. "That's what families are about right? Guilt, coercion, strings attached... I've never had a family that I know about, but if you and yours are intent on finding me one, then I guess I should get some practice in right?"
Schuyler laughs. "Whatever works."
"I'm thirsty."
He nods. "I picked up some flavored vitamin water. It's pretty good. You want some?"
"Sure."
He scrambles around and pulls some out of his bag. He watches while I take a swig. "Good, right?"
I nod. "Be better with some rum in it." He smiles. I smile. "What time is it?"
"4:30"
"When's the lawyer coming?"
And on queue, "Right now Miss Jones if you're up to it."
I slap on my ready-for-anything face and extend my left hand. "Mr. Abraham." I say. "Thank you for taking care of me. I signed those papers you sent."
He shakes my hand. "Good, good. Glad to hear it. Now, Mr. Chambers will be here in an hour..." And the rest is fuzzy. He goes on coaching me, and I try to pay attention. Pretty much the story is that I happened on Sturgis killing Mads and went to meet Luis, found him dead, you know, the story but not the story. It's all what I'd have said anyway in my attempt to not sound crazy. All this reasonableness is not distracting me from the pain. The pain is making me tired. This frustrates me because I know I've done nothing but sleep for the last however long and I should not be sleepy. Mr. Abraham's phone rings and he excuses himself to take the call.
"How many days have I been here?"
Schuyler takes a sip of his vitamin water. "Three."
I press the button to raise the head of the bed and I lean back against it. "Is that long for this kind of thing?"
He shrugs. "I guess not."
Mr. Abraham walks back in. His short, fleshy, body is surprisingly graceful but his face is flushed. "Well, it's off." He says. "That was the Tribune. They axed the story, so there won't be any interview. If Mr. Chambers shows up anyway, we don't have to talk to him. I'm sorry for wasting your time, Miss Jones."
"Uh, okay."
He adjusts his blazer. "This is good news for us, but I wish they'd told me sooner."
Schuyler smiles. "You'll bill for the time."
At this Mr. Abraham returns the grin. "Of course, Mr. Mills, but a waste is a waste none the less. Good evening to you." And with that he grabs up the paper work and turns to leave.
When he's gone, I look at Schuyler, "Will you go get us some coffee?"
He looks at me happily. "You must be feeling better."
I smile. "Actually I'm tired, but I don't want to sleep anymore. Who knows what I might say?" Schuyle
r rolls his eyes. "You're pretty cute you know that?"
He stares at me a second. "Yeah."
I laugh, which hurts but fuck it.
Schuyler laughs too. "I'll go get some. They have a Starbucks in the lobby. Anything special?"
"Black."
"That's easy." He walks out of the room and I notice how his shoulders move. I think he's strutting. This makes me smile. And now I'm alone for the first time in days. I take a deep breath. It feels good. I want some music. Where did Schuyler put my phone? I steel myself for the inevitable pain, and hoist my bruised body off of the bed. I take it slow, breathing evenly and concentrating on nice smooth movements until I reach his bag. I'm just lifting it onto the bed when a voice startles me.
"Meegan."
I look up. It's Officer Clark. "Aaron." My voice sounds strong. I like it.
Officer Clark looks nervously around. "I came to give you this." He pulls a card out of his pocket and crosses the room to hand it to me. It's his office number, and he's scrawled another number on the back.
"Okay."
Aaron Clark meets my eyes. "I came to warn you." Oh shit. "The investigation has been closed."
Huh. "Okay." Sounds fine to me but I keep my mouth shut.
"It wasn't finished, but the order to shut it down came from pretty high up. I don't know what you've gotten yourself into, but I thought you might need some help." I just look blankly at him. "I've been waiting to talk to you alone, but they've had you watched every second until now." He glances over his shoulder. "I'm not supposed to be here, but something about this case still doesn't smell right to me. I think you know more than you've told us and Mr. Mills... Well, I don't know what I should say to you." He looks so concerned, touching. I don't trust it.
"Aaron, Officer Clark... Which Mr. Mills?"
He looks at me earnestly "All of them." Now he's fidgeting back and forth. "You just keep that, okay? Call me when you're ready to tell me something, when you need help. That's my cell number there. Call anytime. I should go."
I nod. "I think you should too." At this he looks exasperated, and strides quickly out of the room. "Well, that was weird." I say to the air. I unzip Schuyler's bag and find my phone right on top. Thank God. I feel so weak, damn it. I don't see my head phones so I toss the bag back on the floor and climb into bed. I bring up the music player and try to relax as the tiny speakers give Sleater Kinney their best effort. I'm tempted to sing along, but I'm sure if I did I'd drown out the little stereo so I hold myself back, close my eyes, and give the music all my attention. Damn, it's nice to be alone. I feel Aaron's card in my hand. It's tempting to throw it out. I hate dragging around useless shit. I flip it around my fingers while the musical interlude kicks in. I sigh. This music was meant to be loud. I open my eyes and look for the trash can. Well poo, its way over there by the bathroom. So, I tuck the card into my cast. I'll have to remember to chuck it next time I go... Or maybe I'll keep it. I don't know. Songs fly by and by the time it gets to Modern Girl I'm feeling much better than I have in days.
Chasing Shadows Page 26