Trigger

by Susan Vaught

  “You working on your list still?” she asked.

  I nodded once and tried not to fidget. Didn’t want to tell her I threw away the book. Not that. Not now. I threw it away, but I remembered. “Still got two things left. Did something awful, and Elana Arroyo—ask Todd, only I can’t ask Todd, or I haven’t yet.”

  “That list, it was a good place to start, like I said.” More coughing. “But not everything fits on a list, Jersey.” She stopped to take a breath. It sounded so bad I felt pain in my chest. Pain like I thought she felt. “Not everything gets its separate little number and its neat little place.” Cough. “There’s more than one way to look at stuff.”

  She had to work to breathe. No fidgeting. Don’t fidget. I wanted to fidget. I wanted to say something so she wouldn’t keep talking and making herself cough. Don’t fidget.

  “Things in the real world get messy,” Mama Rush muttered.

  “Real world,” I said in a hurry. “Things are harder in the real world.”

  “Yeah. No kidding.” Her eyes fixed on mine. “Listen, I’m asking you this because you’ve been here before. Sort of. A minute ago, you said ‘sissy’ and ‘tube.’ You think I’m a sissy for not wanting that tube down my throat?”

  They wanted to put a tube down Mama Rush’s throat? They wanted to make her beep, click, hissss? Some of my tears got away. “No!” I said. Then, “Yes. I mean, you need it? I had a tube. I went beep, click, hissss.”

  Best I could, I lifted my weak hand and scrubbed the bent fingers against the stupid-mark on my throat. “Tube wasn’t enough. Ventilator. Gave me a hole, remember? Sissy. Sissy-U. Tube.”

  Mama Rush coughed, then let go of my hand and sighed. “Doctor said it’d just be temporary, but that scares me. What if they never take it out again? I don’t want to croak with some stupid tube sticking out of my mouth—or worse yet, inserted in my throat like yours was. I wouldn’t even be able to say any brilliant last words.”

  Her stare burned holes in my face.

  I was supposed to say something. Tube. Brilliant last words. You aren’t going to die. Don’t say you’re going to die. But she might die. Tube. She needed a tube. She needed the beep, click, hissss. I had to say the right thing. How could I say the right thing? My eyes wouldn’t stop blinking. All of my fingers curled. It was hard to breathe, and I didn’t need to cough or anything. Sissy. Sissy-U. Beep, click, hissss.

  “They—they took out my tube.” I bumped the stupid-mark with my bent fingers again. “They took out my ventilator, too. Beep, click, hissss. I went home, and—and stuff. Tube.”

  She stared so hard, and her eyes—big with water at the bottom, like she was keeping her tears, too. “Did it hurt?”

  “Don’t remember. It doesn’t hurt now.”

  Mama Rush finally quit staring. She rubbed her throat where she’d get a stupid-mark if she had to have a ventilator. But she might not need a ventilator if she let them do the tube. Sissy-U. She might get better and she wouldn’t need any last words.

  “Brilliant last words,” I blurted. “Sorry. I mean, you don’t need those.”

  “Speak for yourself,” she grumbled as she turned her head and stared at the wall on her other side.

  I watched her chest go up and down. It wasn’t easy for her to breathe. Sissy-U. She needed that tube.

  “Guess I have a choice to make,” she finally said, her voice all quiet.

  “Yeah. Tube. Sissy-U. Choice.”

  “Seems like you got a choice to make, too, Jersey.” Mama Rush coughed. She still wasn’t looking at me.

  Heat rushed up and down and all around me. My good hand flew up to the gun-lump. I felt like I wanted to pee. My teeth clamped together. I touched the hard metal through my shirt, then moved my fingers away fast. To the bullets. Away from them. Tube. She knew. I knew she’d know. Tube. What should I say? Right thing? Wrong? Brilliant last words. Sissy-U.

  “Wish I could make the choice for you,” she whispered. Coughed again. Maybe she wasn’t keeping all of her tears, either. “But I’m old, and I know a few things. If I made your choice for you, if I got in your way, it wouldn’t stick. You’d just come back to having to make the same choice again. Likely sometime when I wouldn’t be there to get in your way.”

  “You’ll be here,” I said, fast, fast, losing my tears just as fast, fast. Both my hands, shaking. My insides, shaking. “You’ll get in my way. You always get in my way—I mean, you can. It’s okay. Brilliant last words. Tube. You’ll always be here and you can get in my way. Tube. Beep, click, hissss.”

  “Sissy-U,” she said before I could say it. “CCU does sound like that.”

  All of a sudden, I wanted her to look at me instead of the wall, but she didn’t. She wouldn’t. I knew it. Tube. It was time to go now. She had to make her choice. I had to make my choice. Nobody in the way. Brilliant last words. Tube, tube, tube.

  I needed to run.

  “Hey, boy!” she called after me as I lurched out of Room 3. “Send in that nurse. You know—the male nurse with the big attitude. Tell Mr. Sissy-U I want to talk. Todd and Leza, too.”

  chapter 23

  Mama Rush needed a tube. She needed brilliant last words. She knew about the gun.

  I couldn’t stay. I wanted to get away, but I had to tell the nurse and Todd and Leza that Mama Rush wanted to see them and I had to go after that. Had to go. Out. Away.

  The nurse went past me into Mama Rush’s room before I could say anything. Tube. Maybe he’d put the tube in. Maybe he’d do it now. Last words. No last words. I needed to quit crying. Baby. Baby in the Sissy-U. I pushed through the doors into the hall.

  Waiting room to the right. Glass walls. Glass doors. A bunch of orange chairs and a table in the middle with magazines and a phone on top. Todd and Leza standing by the table. Baby. Sissy-U. I’d been in a Sissy-U. I had been here in this hospital. Did Todd and Leza and Mom and Dad and Mama Rush stand around the table with the magazines? Orange chairs.

  When I stumbled inside, Leza said, “Oh, God. What happened?”

  “Tube.” I wiped my tears with my good hand. “Sissy-U.”

  “What happened?” Leza pulled at her hair with one hand and flapped her other hand up and down. Tears ran down her cheeks. “Did she get worse? Is she—”

  “Tube.” I closed my eyes and squished out tears. Took a fast breath. Do this right. Slow down. Don’t think about the gun. Slow down. “Needs … a … tube. Like me.” I pointed to the stupid-mark. “Beep-click-hissss. Tube.”

  Sobbing, Leza ran out of the waiting room and straight through the doors into the Sissy-U. Todd started after her, but I couldn’t let him just go. Again. I couldn’t.

  I grabbed his arm.

  “Sorry.” God, quit blubbering. Baby. Sissy-U. Sissy. “About all I did. Whatever. All of it. Sorry about being selfish. Big Larry. Freak.”

  “Knock it off.” Todd tried to pull his arm away, but I held on.

  “Sorry. Tube. You’re so self-centered—no, wait. Not you. Me. Freak.”

  Todd shook his arm, but not hard like he wanted to hit me or hurt me or bash me into the wall. “You’ve got problems. Turn me loose.”

  His eyes looked funny. Half-closed. Wet. His jaw popped. Grinding his teeth. Todd always used to do that when he was nervous. I remembered that. Todd from Before.

  “Elana—I made you hate me over her. Sissy. Sissy-U. Don’t remember—doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

  Pop-pop. Todd’s jaw. His eyes opened a little wider. Then tightened again. He showed his teeth. Blew out some air. Todd from After.

  When he finally said something, his voice sounded rumbly like thunder before a bad storm. “You think I hate you over Elana Arroyo?”

  He jerked his arm out of my grip and made me stumble. Caught me. By the shirt. Face to face. Inches from him. Any closer, he’d touch the gun.

  “You think that’s it, Jersey? You think that’s all?”

  “Tube. List. Sissy. It’s on the list. Number Six. Elana Arr
oyo. Ask Todd.”

  “I can’t believe you.” More rumbling. Lightning in his eyes. “You—you’re a—a—”

  “Freak. Yeah. Freak. Did I hit her? Maybe? Get her pregnant?” I pushed back to keep him off the gun. “What? Freak. Pregnant. Tell me.”

  Thunder. Lightning. Todd’s face got stormier. “You stole her! You took her away even though you knew I liked her. She was my girl, and you took her, and you cheated on her, and treated her like trash!”

  I opened my mouth, but all that came out was, “Stole. Cheated. Trash.”

  Todd jerked me higher. Closer. Back toward the gun. Thunder. Thunder! “Everything was trash to you back then. Big bad Jersey. You took my starting spot on the football team. You tried to take my spot on the golf team, but you blew that running your smart mouth to Coach.”

  “Big mouth. Bad Jersey. I took your spot?” I was standing on my toes now, but I didn’t care, except for the gun. Don’t let him touch the gun. “So that’s why you hate me. Selfish. Big Larry. I was a jerk. So self-centered I bet you think I’m mad at you. I mean, me.”

  “Quit saying that.” He tightened his grip. Words through his teeth, but still thunder. More flashing in his eyes. Closer to the gun. Closer.

  Thunder. Lightning. I barely touched the floor with the end of my toes. I grabbed his wrist to keep from falling into him. “Thunder. Thunder. Quit saying that. Saying what?”

  “You’re so self-centered I bet you think I’m mad at you.” Thunder. Loud. Thunder. Did the windows rattle?

  “Elana—”

  “Shut up!” His teeth came apart. Spit hit my face. “I didn’t say that because of her. I said it because I was mad at myself for giving you another chance.”

  “Thunder. You—you said that.” Lightning. Thunder and more thunder. It couldn’t have been Todd. It was a girl. A girl in my memory. But it wasn’t my memory, was it? Just what I thought. Just something I stuffed inside the holes in my head. Stupid. Stupid. Thunder. “You said that. You.”

  “The day you did it.” Todd was shaking now. I shook with him, on my toes. “I tried to talk sense to you and just got the same shit back about how you sucked and weren’t good enough and wanted to blow your head off and die. How was I supposed to know you were serious? That you’d do it? You freak!”

  He let go of me then. Just sort of dropped me onto the floor, right on my butt. The gun jabbed into my belly, but I didn’t really feel it. I didn’t move.

  “We were getting over stuff.” Quiet thunder. Rain running down his face. “But you wouldn’t ease up. You wouldn’t sleep. You wouldn’t eat. You just kept getting weird, and more weird.” He shook his head. “Then you messed her up. I messed her up. We messed her up, man!”

  “I messed up Elana.”

  “No!” The word exploded through my head. My ears buzzed, it sounded so loud.

  Todd leaned down fast, grabbed my shirt, and pulled back his fist, but he was still shaking and he wouldn’t look at me, not in the eyes. “We messed Leza up bad.”

  All the noise in my head stopped. Like somebody turned off a switch. Nothing moved inside. Nothing moved outside. Stuck to the floor. Stuck to the gun.

  Leza.

  Leza?

  “She heard it,” Todd whispered. His fist dropped. “She was standing on your front porch because I called her. I sent my baby sister to see about your worthless ass, and she heard you shoot yourself.”

  I wished I was an orange chair. I wished I was part of the floor. My lips started moving and I heard myself say, “Heard it. Heard. Heard it.”

  Todd let me go and stood up. He rubbed his arm across his face and still didn’t look at me. “She freaked out and called your mom instead of 9-1-1. Your mom was on her way home from work, so she got right there—and Leza was standing outside when your mom started screaming.”

  Now he looked at me, and I wished he wouldn’t. I wished I didn’t have eyes or ears. I wished I had died when I shot myself, but I didn’t die, and I was hearing this and I couldn’t stop it.

  “She thought she should have gotten there sooner, or gone in—maybe stopped you. And later, she thought it was her fault your mom got so messed up.”

  “Messed up. Stopped. Stop. Heard. Stop.” Shut up! Why couldn’t I shut up?

  “Messed her up. And why?” Todd laughed, but not happy. More like a bark, or almost throwing up. “Because you didn’t do good in a football game. Because you got suspended from golf for backtalking Coach. Because you made some sucky grades and pissed off your parents and your R.O.T.C. commander. You wouldn’t listen to anybody and you wasted yourself and messed her up over a whole bunch of nothing.”

  That made me stop talking. I couldn’t move again. I couldn’t do anything but look at Todd as he backed away from me.

  “That’s why I can’t stand you.” Past the table now, almost to the door. Still backing away. “That’s why I don’t want to look at you.”

  At the door. Opening the door.

  “You used to be my best friend, man.”

  And Todd was gone, and I was there on the floor and all I could think about was Leza and messing her up and tearing up that stupid list because it was nothing.

  It was all nothing.

  I killed myself over nothing at all.

  Later, maybe minutes, maybe an hour, I stumbled out of Mercy East, out to the sidewalk, It was almost dark and a little cold.

  Nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  Where was I going? Not home. Not to Dad. Not to the house and Mom at the beach and J.B. gone. Not to nothing.

  Not to the green bedspread and the football rug. Not to Before, or After, or any of it. None of it. Nothing. Home was a long way, anyway. School was closer. In between me and Lake Raven.

  I messed Leza up. I did it for nothing. I broke Mom. I did it for nothing. I broke Dad—nothing. Nothing. Little stuff. Little now. I made little stuff big and I messed up Leza and ruined everybody and ruined me over nothing.

  Nowhere to go.

  Nothing, nowhere, nobody.

  Maybe I could think at school. Up in the stadium. Up in the bleachers. Nobody would be there at night. No girls running races, no cheerleaders, nobody to get in my way. My face felt wet. I was still crying a little. Walking, and thinking, and crying.

  By the time I got to the school, by the time I got to the bleachers, I coughed like Mama Rush. I needed tubes. I needed to sit down. Everything burned, especially my legs. Wet all over. Sweat and tears. My eyes burned and I rubbed them as I climbed up into the bleachers. Good boy, bad boy. Bad boy dragging, dragging. My bad arm felt numb. Everything hurt. It was dark. Cool dark. Dark empty. Nothing. Except it didn’t smell so good. A little like sweat and old water.

  “Slow down,” I said out loud as I flopped down and lay still. The hard metal felt hot through my shirt. The sweaty gun pushed at my gut under my shirt. This was the same seat where I watched Leza run before I met her honey-honey. Cough. Breathe. Slow down.

  The same seat where I cheered with cheerleaders and thought lots about peanuts. Peanuts and cheerleaders just seemed to go together. Breathe, breathe. Slow, slow.

  But I could never be a cheerleader. I could sit with cheerleaders, they could be nice to me, but I couldn’t be one of them. I wouldn’t be running on the track, either. Or doing any of the stuff from Before. I could like Leza as more than a friend, but she wouldn’t like me that way. She had a honey-honey. I had stupid-marks. I messed her up. I messed it all up. For nothing.

  Was Mama Rush getting her tube?

  Mom was gone. Dad was broken. School had the Wench and Algebra and I got peed on and upset everybody. J.B. was gone. I didn’t have my memory book. I felt like I should have it, but I threw it away. Now it was in the trash. Lots of stuff in the trash.

  When I could breathe enough, I sat up and pulled the gun out of my pants. I laid it on the bench beside me. Bright in the moon. Trash. The gunmetal looked shiny. It would taste oily if I put it in my mouth. I couldn’t do that. But I could put the bu
llets in it.

  Took forever to get them out of my pocket. I dropped some. Took forever to pick those up. Only found three. Trash.

  After I got the gun open, not easy with one hand, I put them in.

  If I shot the gun, would it fire? Trash. It might be on an empty space. I wasn’t sweating now.

  Maybe I should wait here until it was school again and shoot the guys who peed on me. If I shot Mr. Sabon, nobody would have to do Algebra for a while. 3x - math teacher = nothing. But Mr. Sabon looked like Santa Claus and he was pretty nice. Trash.

  The guys who peed on me used to be nice, too, Before.

  Did I make them mean? Did I mess them up, too?

  I thought about the clay people in my dreams breaking all apart. I thought about Mom at the beach. Waves and water.

  Why couldn’t Lake Raven be an ocean with a beach?

  When I thought about Lake Raven, I thought about the place where the benches faced the little fence. Beaches. Everybody needed beaches. I thought about how I could climb the fence and do it and fall in the lake with no me-mess at all for anybody to find. Would that fix things? Beaches. It would for me.

  You’re so self-centered I bet you think I’m mad at you.

  “Todd said it!” I yelled. Then I started losing tears and I picked up the gun and pointed it toward the school and pulled the trigger.

  It clicked.

  Empty space. Three bullets. Two holes left. Would the bullet be next if I pulled the trigger again? Triggered. I was triggering. I triggered stuff.

  “I’m self-centered,” I whispered. “Faces. Leza. Mom. Todd. I’m self-centered. They say so. I say so.” Put the gun on the bench. On the metal. Felt the gunmetal and the bleacher metal with my fingers. Even though it was hard, I opened the gun back up, found the three bullets, and took them out again.

  For a second, I felt better. I lost tears, and breathed hard, but I felt better. Beaches. Self-centered. Mama Rush couldn’t die, and I needed brilliant last words. What would I say?