by C. J. Anaya
If my brain had been damaged by healing Kirby then it definitely explained why I hadn’t been able to heal myself. It also gave me cause for concern. If I healed Kirby again, would I damage my brain again? If that did happen, would Victor or Tie need to be present in order to deal with the aftermath of my reckless behavior? I’d have to tell both of them the truth, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that kind of conversation with either one of them.
Although, if what my father said was correct, and Tie and Victor did in fact heal me, then I owed them a very big thank you, and they owed me a very thorough explanation.
“Anyway, it wasn’t my idea to send you home with Angie, but she seemed to think it was the only logical solution available. I told her having you sleeping in a hospital bed, with me monitoring you all night long, was a much better idea, but she threatened to stay and help me.” He tilted his eyes heavenward as if he were asking God for a little warning next time.
“I’m fine. I really don’t need anybody taking care of me. Walking home by myself wouldn’t have been out of the question.” I felt a little miffed being treated like an invalid. I’d never been an invalid before. I didn’t care for it much.
“Tell that to Angie,” he said with a smirk. “Even though the obsessive compulsive parent in me is frantic to keep you under forty-eight hour surveillance, the doctor in me has to admit you are one hundred percent better. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you right now. I’m willing to send you home with Angie under two conditions.”
“Okaaaaay.”
“You go straight home. No late night visits to Dairy Queen or McDonald’s or some other equally disgusting fast food establishment.”
“Hey, I love Dairy Queen and McDonald’s,” I protested.
“Condition number two: you and Angie are to go straight to bed. No TV, no girl talk, no pillow fights, and no mani-pedis.”
“Please, Dad. We’re more into chocolate and chick flicks.”
My dad gave me a tired look.
Angie must have known we were talking about her because she came bustling into the room looking worried, angry, and completely put out.
“What the hell?” she yelled as she marched her way over to the opposite side of where my father stood and slapped her hand on my forehead. “You’re hardly ever sick, and my mother calls me out of the blue to tell me you’re dying?”
Her gaze went out of focus for a moment as she felt my forehead. Then she sagged in relief at whatever conclusion she’d come to.
I reached up to grab the hand she held firmly glued to my forehead. “Angie, I’m not dying. I just had a headache.”
“Do I look stupid to you? If all you had was a headache your father would’ve sent you home with a couple of Percocet, and I would’ve made you share them with me,” she hollered.
“You can take your hand off my forehead now.” I continued tugging on her hand without accomplishing anything. “For heaven’s sake, Ang, what are you doing?”
“I’m checking your temperature, of course. You could be dying from some unknown tropical disease. I never should have taken you to that burrito joint last week. The cooks over there were probably filled with lice.”
I didn’t possess the mental energy required to explain to Angie how tropical diseases were actually transmitted. I noticed my dad rubbing his eyes and biting the insides of his cheeks to prevent himself from letting out what I’m sure would have been a great big belly laugh.
I finally gave up trying to remove her hand from my forehead. Giving Angie a Percocet, at this point, wasn’t such an awful idea.
“She feels warm. Dr. Fairmont, she’s definitely feverish,” she continued to holler as she took her hand off my forehead and replaced it with my father’s.
“Her temperature is just fine. I promise you, she isn’t going to die anytime soon,” he said in a reassuring tone.
“You doctors are notorious for tiptoeing around bad news. Would you really tell me if she was?” She pointed an accusing finger in his direction.
My dad was fighting a losing battle. I could already see his mouth morphing into a broad grin.
The hospital intercom paged him.
“Hope, I’m going to go sign you out so Angie can get you home.” He made a beeline for the door. I heard him laughing once he reached the hallway.
Angie sent a glare in my father’s direction and then pulled out some wet wipes from a gigantic pink purse hanging over her shoulder.
“What are you…?”
“Please, don’t speak just yet. I’m going to clean your sweet little sweaty face off and fix the damage that your near death experience managed to do to your complexion.” She was all business now.
“I didn’t have a near death exper—,” I tried to spit out.
I was rudely interrupted by an onslaught of wet wipes as Angie rubbed my face down with some fairly amazing force.
“I told you to stop talking. Tie and Victor will arrive any minute, and here you are looking like you just stepped out of a sauna.” She grumbled under her breath as she continued to use wet wipe after wet wipe.
“What do you mean?” I raised my arms in a defensive gesture, hoping to ward off another attack. “I think you’ve managed to scrape off at least five layers of skin.” I reached up to scratch my itching forehead.
“Don’t you dare,” she shrieked slapping my hand back down. “Seriously, I’m not a miracle worker here. Some cooperation would be greatly appreciated right about now.”
I sighed heavily, knowing that arguing with Angie was, as usual, completely pointless.
“Those heavenly hotties are making sure I get you to my car in one piece. If you pass out on me, I won’t have the upper body strength necessary to prevent you from face-planting it. It is, therefore, imperative that you avoid looking ugly in the presence of such fine members of the opposite sex. I’m merely considering your welfare.”
“Does my dad know about this?”
“Don’t trouble me with bothersome questions.” She deftly avoided my gaze and took a vicious swipe at my chin.
I smiled when she finally shoved the wet wipes back in her purse. My happiness was short lived. She pulled out a large container of mineral foundation and began liberally applying it all over my face. I spluttered and nearly sneezed when some of the powder landed inside my nose and mouth.
“So, how does Tie’s face look now that it’s fixed?” I asked.
“Well, his nose is back where it’s supposed to be.” She threw the foundation into her purse and pulled out some eyeshadow and mascara.
“Angie, I never even wear this stuff,” I complained.
“Usually you don’t need to, but your olive complexion is a very ugly, pasty color, and your eyes look like they’ve sunk into the back of your head.” She took her index finger and began applying various shades of powder to my eyelids. “You’ll thank me later. Look up please.”
I did as I was told while she applied several coats of mascara. She threw her makeup back in her bag and pulled out some lipstick, lip gloss, and a hair brush.
My stomach started to grumble. I’d neglected it for far too long, and it was now getting ready to punish me. “You wouldn’t by any chance have a candy bar hiding in that bag would you?” I was only half joking.
It shouldn’t have surprised me when Angie reached in and pulled out a very tempting looking Snickers bar, but it did.
“You must think I’m some kind of amateur. Of course I have a candy bar. I think I even have a can of Coke in there somewhere.”
I winced as she roughly ran the brush through my hair at a rapid rate, fluffing it out here and there. I finished half my candy bar and would have completely devoured the rest, but it was whisked away by Angie’s unnaturally long fingers, and a breath mint was returned in its place.
“You’ll thank me later.” She gave me a sweet smile.
I was getting tired of her saying that. I popped the mint in my mouth and let Angie smear lipstick all over my sulking lips.
> “Blot,” she commanded pulling out a paper towel.
I did as I was told and waited for further instructions.
“Chin up.”
I lifted my chin and allowed her to slather my now berry red lips with some shiny looking lip gloss.
Angie threw everything back into her purse and then studied me for several seconds.
“Man, I’m good. Stinkin’ magnificent. Now then, put this on.” She pulled out a denim skirt, a white low-cut blouse, and some crazy gold stilettos from the endless cavity of her purse.
I looked down at myself and realized I was draped in an ugly hospital gown. “Wait. What happened to the clothes I was wearing?”
“I think you threw up on them or had some vicious nose bleed or something.”
I cringed, thinking I might have actually thrown up in front of Tie. Angie thrust the clothes at me.
“Those are not my clothes!”
“Of course they’re not. I didn’t exactly have time to run over to your house and inspect your wardrobe after I checked the message from my mom. I grabbed what I could out of my closet and headed over here as fast as my very snazzy car could carry me.”
“Angie, my house is only a few minutes from yours. You could’ve grabbed some of my clothes.” I was horrified at the thought of walking in stilettos for even a small fraction of a second.
“Oh, I’m sorry. The next time my mother calls and tells me you’re dying, I’ll be sure to pack your whole wardrobe, pick out the most perfect set of heels, and stop at the nearest Starbucks to grab you a cappuccino that’s sure to warm up your cold, dead body.” Angie huffed and folded her arms across her chest.
“What do I need clothes for if I’m dying?”
“Have you seen the kind of lighting they have in the morgue? Nobody looks good, dead, in that kind of lighting. I’d give up my most favorite pair of Gucci shoes before allowing my best friend to be found lying on some metal slab, bathed in fluorescent lighting, wearing nothing but a backless, green, hospital gown. I wouldn’t even be able to claim you as my own!”
“Fine!” I held out my hand in resignation. “Hand over the hooker ensemble, and go stand guard by the door. I don’t want anybody walking in on me while I change.”
Angie’s mask of anger was quickly replaced by a triumphant grin. “I knew you’d see it my way!” She skipped over to the door and looked out the small, rectangular window.
Putting Angie’s clothes on was like taking on a completely different personality, and as much as I loved hers, it simply wasn’t me. However, everything Angie did, she did from the heart. I decided I could wear the outfit she’d so kindly packed on my behalf and suffer silently through it until I was taken home. The only thing preventing me from throwing her ridiculous heels out the window was the thought that I’d be wearing them for less than twenty minutes.
“Let me see,” Angie said excitedly as I finished strapping on her shoes.
I slowly stood up and wobbled a bit as I tried to find my balance. My butt felt like it had been raised ten inches. A surprisingly empowering experience.
“You look like a goddess. I really am wasting my time attending high school. I should be a very high paid fashion consultant for every single celebrity on this planet.”
I reached out for something to hold on to as I took my first few steps toward my traitorous best friend.
“Okay. I can see your boyfriends coming. You ready to knock their socks off?” she asked with repressed excitement.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” She was making an awfully huge fuss over a two-minute car ride.
Angie opened the door with a flourish.
“The invalid is ready to go,” she announced.
Victor marched in, seeming full of purpose, while Tie slowly sauntered in looking bored out of his mind. It made me wonder if he really had displayed any kind of concern on my behalf. They both stopped short when their eyes rested on me. Tie let out a low whistle.
“I thought you said she looked like death warmed over. She looks all right to me.” He gave Victor a wicked smile.
Victor glared back at him while looking slightly embarrassed.
“All right? You think she looks all right?” Angie was outraged.
I felt extremely uncomfortable being stared at, mostly by Tie. His gaze traveled from my head to my toes and back again. I wanted to hide myself inside the nearest hospital closet, anything to escape the delightful tingling his gaze evoked.
Considering how messed up his face had been before my dad set his nose, he looked amazing now. I suspected he’d allowed his body to begin repairing itself because his nose was bone straight. I wasn’t sure my dad could have gotten it that straight. The bruises surrounding his eyes were a nasty purple color, but I liked it. It made him look a little dangerous. He continued his appraising stare. A delicious sensation rippled down my spine. I abruptly broke eye contact.
“I’m not sure why it’s going to take all three of you to get me to Angie’s car in one piece, but could we get going please? Her clothes are about two sizes too small, and I’m finding it hard to breathe, not to mention stand. The sooner I get home the better.” I pushed past them and out the door.
“I thought we were going to get something to eat. Ouch,” Tie cried.
I looked back at Angie in amazement. She gave me a sheepish grin.
“That’s why you dressed me up like this? You planned a dinner date when you thought I was dying?” I was incredulous.
“In my defense, I did bring a second outfit for you in the unlikely event that you’d perished by the time I arrived.” Her face was all innocence.
She left me completely speechless. This matchmaking side to Angie was a whole different ball of wax, and I was so not used to it. “There’s no way my dad sanctioned this.”
“Of course he didn’t. I wasn’t dumb enough to tell him.” She made me sound foolish for even bringing my father up.
“If this is a date, which one of you lovely ladies is paying for my food?” Tie asked in a sweet voice.
Angie smacked him on the back of the head and walked toward the elevator. Victor rushed to my side and offered me his arm.
“Just in case you feel lightheaded,” he said giving me a small smile. I could hear Tie making gagging noises behind us.
“You know, Tie, I’m just as capable of breaking your nose as Nathan is,” I threw over my shoulder as the elevator doors opened.
“I’d probably enjoy it more, too,” he replied.
I could feel Victor’s arm tense as we boarded the rickety box and rode it to the first floor. I figured he liked elevators about as much as I did.
I was grateful his arm was at my disposal. My heels were becoming hazardous to my health, and the walk from the hospital doors to Angie’s car might have seemed short to anyone wearing a decent pair of shoes, but felt like a mile or two for me.
While Angie prattled on about the lack of hospital valet parking, Tie and Victor became quiet and watchful. The closer we got to her car the more nervous I began to feel. Something wasn’t right and the guys seemed to know it. I searched the surrounding area, wondering if what I sensed might erupt from the night’s shadows and launch an attack.
Despite their obvious unease, and my growing desire to run away from all of them as fast as my treacherous stiletto heels would allow, we made it to the car without incident.
Angie drove a purple PT Cruiser and was incredibly proud of it. I preferred my Chevy.
I was about to get in the front seat, my usual place inside the PT, when Angie bumped me with her hip.
“Victor, we haven’t had a chance to get to know one another. Why don’t you sit up front with me? You don’t mind sitting in the back do you, Hope?”
I glared at her, wishing I were back in my hospital bed instead of out with a best friend who’s unpredictable behavior was no longer predictable for me. I had absolutely no idea what to expect.
“After you,” Tie said beckoning me toward the back.
&nb
sp; Victor slung himself into the passenger seat mumbling something under his breath.
I placed my foot in the car, but felt slightly dizzy. I must have swayed noticeably because Tie’s yummy arms came to my rescue as he pulled me close to him. I closed my eyes and leaned my head on his shoulder.
Just this once.
“You okay?” he asked.
I shook my head and looked up into his icy blue eyes. “Just got dizzy for a second,” I said. “I’m good now.”
He searched my face, concern giving rise to tiny wrinkles around his eyes, and then he shook his head like he was trying to snap himself out of something. The same snooty mask he’d worn in Ms. Chinatsu’s class took over, and I wondered why the Tie from the nurse’s room had disappeared.
I stepped out of his embrace, feeling reluctant to do so, and slipped gingerly into the back seat. Once Tie made sure I was situated, he closed the door and rounded the back, getting in on the other side.
“We ready?” Angie asked.
“Dinner can’t come fast enough,” I heard Victor grunt.
“That’s the spirit!” She patted his arm happily and then froze, her eyebrows rising to her forehead. Her gaze went out of focus again. I feared that Angie’s dark period might be creeping up on us soon.
She released his arm. “Unbelievable,” she said under her breath. “Now there’s three of them in the car.”
Victor turned to me looking for some explanation as to Angie’s behavior. I offered him a helpless shrug. If Angie wanted to share her thoughts with us she’d do it in her own time.
“Where are we going?” I asked as she pulled out of the hospital parking lot.
“Oh, just a little old place I like to call Expresso,” she purred.
“What’s Expresso? Sounds like something you’d order from a Starbucks,” Victor said.
While Angie explained the significance of the café’s name and the activities associated with it, little alarm bells sounded off inside my head. I smelled a not-so-subtle rat, and that rat was Angie. I sincerely hoped she hadn’t signed me up to read or possibly sing one of my songs tonight.
“So people will be giving us live entertainment?” asked Tie.