The End or Something Like That

by Ann Dee Ellis

  It took me awhile to respond because I didn’t know what to say. This felt like a big deal. A very big deal.

  He said, “Are you okay?”

  I nodded. “Are you okay?”

  And he said, “I am now.”

  “You are now?”

  And he said, “Do you believe me?”

  And I said, “Why wouldn’t I believe you?”

  He smiled. He smiled huge and he said, “Thank you.”

  And I said, “For what?”

  And he said, “Just everything. I wish we’d known each other when I was alive.”

  I felt myself get hot. “I wish that, too.”

  He reached toward my cheek and I stiffened, which was stupid, but was he going to touch me?

  He put his hand down. “Thank you,” and then he said something. He said, “You know your friend? The one from the funeral place?”

  “Skeeter?”

  He shrugged. “Whatever his name is.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I like him.”

  “You like him?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

  I had no idea what this had to do with anything.

  “I have to go,” he said.

  “Where are you going?”

  And he said, “I will never ever ever forget you, okay? I will never forget you. I’ve always known you were special. And you just changed my life.”

  “I what?”

  But then it was too late.

  He was gone.

  • 71 •

  There are a lot of things I don’t understand.

  Like the time I found my mom sobbing in the car in the garage. Or the time my brother, Joe, left the house for three days and no one said anything about it. Or the time Dad decided not to run the 10K he’d been training for eight months to do.

  I don’t understand why armpit hair grows so fast or why boys stand in groups and throw things at people.

  I don’t understand how you can be so close to someone, so close that they know you wet the bed until you were ten. And then feel so, so, so far away.

  •

  One time, my heart was floating on a raft in the middle of the ocean. The waves moving it up and down and up and down. The sun beating and I said, Dear heart. I hate you. I hope you die.

  •

  I hope you die.

  • 72 •

  I stood in front of the casino too long.

  Baylor was gone. People were going in and out. The whole world spinning. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

  Then I went inside Circus Circus to go find Dr. Ted Farnsworth.

  • 73 •

  If your best friend is long and skinny and boys start to notice her but not you because you blend into the dirt, you could get sad.

  I’d been sad at her before.

  Like one time I was sad because I don’t even remember why but when she called I didn’t answer the phone.

  She left me three messages.

  We were supposed to use the money we’d saved up to buy candy at Costco and then sell it out in front of my house.

  I lay under my bed and back then I had pictures of boys who looked like Jared, my sort of boyfriend from Yellowstone, taped under the bed frame. I had problems.

  She called again.

  I let it ring.

  It stopped and I thought, I am never, ever, ever leaving this bed unless it’s to eat or go to the bathroom and they’ll write a dramatic novel about me.

  One minute later, Joe walked in.

  “What are you doing?” He squatted down so he could see my face, but I didn’t see his because I was closing my eyes.

  “I’m meditating,” I said.

  He said, “You’re a freak show.”

  I nodded.

  Then he said, “Kim is coming to pick you up in five minutes with Trish.”

  I looked at him. “She called you?”

  “Yeah. Why does she have my cell number?”

  I stared at his face. She had his number because one time we prank called him from Trish’s cell, and Kim acted like she was a girl named Barbara with a deep voice and she wondered if he wanted to hang out and he was like, uh Barbara. Uh. Sure, Barbara. And Kim said, do you care if we kiss a bit.

  I had to suck on a pillowcase to keep from laughing and he said, “Uh. I mean. Who is this?”

  So that’s why she had his cell number.

  I told Joe, “Call her back and tell her I’m not going.”

  “I’m not calling her back,” he said.

  “Call her, please.”

  He said. “No.” Then he said, ”What. Are you two in a fight?” A smile on his fat face.

  We were not in a fight.

  I was just sad at her.

  That was one time and like I said, I don’t even remember why.

  •

  But after Smiths. After she lied to me, I was more sad than I had ever been in my life.

  Ever.

  And I would always remember.

  Always.

  I thought, I will never ever talk to you again, Kim. I won’t.

  Is that funny? Ahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

  Because now she’s dead and I can’t get her to talk to me no matter how hard I try.

  • 74 •

  I was fifteen minutes late for Dr. Ted’s presentation, but it looked like it didn’t matter.

  Outside Meeting Room A was a huge group of people.

  Huge.

  The same big blond-haired lady from last year was holding a clipboard and had on headphones and was yelling something that I couldn’t hear.

  “What’s going on?” I asked a man standing next to me.

  “He’s a no-show,” the man said.

  “What?”

  “He ain’t coming,” the man said. “The doctor.”

  A lady in front of me yelled, “I drove here all the way from El Paso!”

  The blond woman in charge did a huge whistle and everyone quieted.

  “I’m sorry to all of you. I’m sorry for your trouble,” she said.

  “To hell with our trouble,” someone yelled. “Where is he?”

  I felt bad for the woman. This was a bad crowd. An angry crowd and I understood why. Dr. Ted Farnsworth made people crazy.

  She shouted, “Dr. Farnsworth is feeling sick. He’s very sick,” she said.

  “Bull crap,” someone yelled.

  “Get him out here. We paid good money!”

  I stood.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “We’ll make sure you all get your money back if you’ll make an orderly line right here and sign your name and address.”

  There was more swearing and yelling and the same lady with blue hair was there. She was yelling, too.

  Dr. Ted Farnsworth was sick.

  He was too sick to help these people cross over the veil.

  They all moved to the wall to form an orderly line.

  What do I do now?

  • 75 •

  Some days, actually day number two of avoiding your best friend who keeps texting you and texting you and texting you, on that day, your fake friend named Gabby finds you in the bathroom and asks you what’s wrong.

  On that day I ignore her and shove my way out the door.

  On that day I eat corn dogs across the quad from them.

  On that day in the middle of lunch, my best friend falls off her chair onto the cement, and Gabby screams and everyone gets quiet and she says, “Somebody!”

  And on that day I take another bite of my corn dog.

  Time slows down, a hot-air balloon overhead. The sounds.

  I dip the corn dog in ketchup and I take a bite.

  I think about that bite every day.r />
  Gabby screaming.

  Someone next to me saying, “What’s going on?”

  People standing up.

  And I’m eating.

  After I swallow the bite, I look over.

  I stand up, too, like everyone else.

  Gabby is yelling at me, I think. She’s looking over at me and yelling, and I can’t understand what she’s saying, but I go there. I go over to where Kim is on the concrete.

  I get to Kim and her body is on the ground and she is holding her arms to her chest and everything tight, like she has been frozen.

  This has happened before. She’s passed out before but this one is different. I can feel that this one is different.

  Gabby is yelling things like, “Do something. Do something!” And people are standing around and then there is this portal of time when everything stops.

  S T O P P E D.

  •

  One time, I jumped off the Stratosphere. Dad bought us all tickets and Joe said, “Emmy won’t do it.”

  “Yeah, I will,” I said.

  Joe laughed.

  So then I stood on the edge of the platform, and I looked down and my stomach dropped. The itty-bitty pinpoints below, the lights of the city, and I knew the wire was going to break, and I knew they’d have to scrape me off the ground, and I knew that I was wearing bad underwear.

  I stood there and there were voices, Joe saying something. My mom telling him to be quiet. The man saying to take my time.

  I stood there and I couldn’t do it. I knew I couldn’t do it.

  So I closed my eyes.

  I closed my eyes and held my breath, and then I took a step and right when I did it I tried to undo it, I tried to not do it, to turn around and not do it, but it didn’t work.

  I fell.

  And in the middle of the air everything STOPPED. Everything in front of me, everything behind me, everything everywhere. STOPPED.

  •

  And then time came rushing back.

  •

  “HELP HER!” Gabby was screaming.

  “Kim?”

  I knelt down next to her. Touched her arm. “Kim?” I said. “Kim. Look at me. Kim.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Kim.

  “Breathe.

  “Breathe.

  “Breathe.”

  “Is she dead?” Gabby sobbed. “Is she dead?”

  I looked up at Gabby. Her and Skeeter and Tony and those idiots. Everyone I knew standing around. Tears were pouring down Gabby’s cheeks. And they were all looking at me. I was Kim’s best friend.

  Me.

  I looked back at Kim’s face. Tried to focus.

  What do I do?

  And then it happened. I felt myself say, “Move away.”

  For the first time in my life, people listened.

  I got close to her ear and I whispered, “Come back. Come back, Kim.”

  Right then I felt something. I felt something shift. The world or my body or her body or something between us shifted.

  Right then, her mouth, her slack mouth, her frozen body moved. Something so small that I was probably the only one who saw it. Her terrorized body took a small breath and she whispered to me, “I love you.”

  •

  I love you.

  •

  And then there was the nurse and the paramedics and teachers and people yelling, and I got shoved back and I sat there and everything was blurry.

  They pumped her chest hard. Pumping pumping.

  “Get them out of here,” the paramedic yelled. “Clear out.”

  Teachers voices in the distance, telling people to go to class, and I looked over and Gabby stood there.

  Everyone moved away but her. She was alone and her arms were to her sides and she was alone. Standing over there.

  They were pounding on Kim’s chest and the whole world was quiet again.

  • 76 •

  For forty-five minutes, the blond lady took names and address and swearing-people’s complaints. She assured the crowd that Dr. Ted Farnsworth would answer all of them himself.

  “He will get back to each an every one of ya,” she said.

  I wanted to say no he won’t but instead I stood against the wall and watched.

  Waited.

  I should’ve left.

  I had two and a half hours until I had to meet Kim, which really wasn’t that much time because it took forever to get home, and then I’d have to deal with my mom who was probably freaking out right now, and then I had to get out to Red Rock.

  But still I waited.

  I had to talk to him.

  When the line had cleared out, and the lady started to walk away, I ran to catch her.

  “Is he here?” I asked.

  She turned and looked at me. Her face was older than it seemed from far away. Deep wrinkles and sagging lips. Lots and lots of makeup. She and Dr. Ted Farnsworth could be twins. Good from far away, old and messy up close.

  “I’m sorry, honey. But he’s not.” She started walking again.

  I was right behind her. Her pants so tight you could see the dimples.

  “Can I at least talk to him? Just for a second,” I said.

  She waved her hand at me but didn’t stop.

  We rounded two corners and she was ignoring me even though there’s no way she didn’t know I was there.

  Finally, I got in front of her and blocked her way. Tony’s move.

  “Just for a second,” I said.

  She sighed. “You serious?”

  “I’m serious.”

  She blew out a big burst of air and then looked at her watch. Then she said, “Look, do yourself a favor and go on home. This is no place for kids. Forget you ever heard of Dr. Ted Farnsworth.”

  Then she went around me and walked out the emergency exit.

  I followed her.

  • 77 •

  The teacher drew a picture of a heart on the board.

  It was seventh period and I sat in my desk and sat there.

  I am a horrible person.

  A horrible horrible person.

  I had been ignoring her.

  I had been avoiding her.

  I had been trying to be nowhere.

  Then an aide brought in a piece of paper for Mr. McDog.

  McDog stopped talking about integers and studied it for three minutes. Three and a half minutes on the clock, all the while, I thought, I wonder if she’s dead.

  He cleared his throat. “Today at lunch, one of the students here had a medical issue. Kim Porter?” McDog’s voice was nasally and when he said Kim’s name it felt weird. Like he shouldn’t say her name. He didn’t know her.

  He wrote the words on the board: CONGENITAL HEART DISEASE, and then he drew a picture of a heart on the board. A really bad picture that he was trying to copy from the handout.

  He was not supposed to release medical information. I was going to tell him that and that my dad was going to sue him.

  But then I just sat there.

  “Here,” he said, pointing to a tube. “Here is the problem for Kim.”

  I stared at the tube. The tube that had wreaked havoc. The tube that caused the puke and the hospital and the surgeries. The tube that was responsible for Dr. Ted Farnsworth and dead websites and books and books and books.

  He started saying other things. Shunt. Blood vessels. Pressure and I thought, he has no idea what he’s talking about.

  “She is going to be okay,” Mr. McDog said, “but the principal felt we should all have a rap session about this.”

  A rap session about heart disease.

  Who does that? Who even says that?

  “She’s going to be okay,” McDog said again. “Does anyone have any questions?�
��

  No one raised their hands.

  I stared at my fingernails. Kim had helped me paint them green with purple dots for Easter.

  Lafe Thompson said, “Is she going to be paralyzed or something?”

  I looked up at McDog.

  “I just said she’s going to be okay, Lafe.”

  Someone else asked, “Isn’t it weird to be fourteen and have heart disease? Like doesn’t that mean you’re going to die young?”

  My heart thumped.

  McDog turned red. He read the piece of paper again and then he said, “We’re really just supposed to talk about your feelings. How are all of you feeling?”

  We sat.

  And sat.

  And sat.

  Someone made a fart noise and then everyone started laughing.

  • 78 •

  The tour bus was in the parking garage again, but this time it was parked behind some Dumpsters.

  I hid beside a Honda as the lady walked up to the bus, knocked on the door, and went inside.

  Five minutes later she came out.

  “You can’t keep doing this, Gary. You just can’t,” she said. Loud.

  Gary? Who was Gary?

  Someone said something back. She was yelling now, her voice echoing throughout the parking garage.

  “We are running out of money.”

  A response I couldn’t hear.

  Then she said, “I’m not doing this anymore. You think that was fun? You think this is funny? Screw you,” and then she slammed the door shut.

  She walked past me, muttering and swearing, stopped for a second to pick up something off the ground, and then went back into the casino.

  I took a breath.

  Please. Please. Please. I could do this. I could.

  I stood up and made sure I was alone which I was. I could do this. I could do this. Then I walked up to the bus, opened the door, and went inside to talk to Dr. Ted Farnsworth.

  Or Gary.

  Or whoever he was.

  Dr. Ted was sitting there, in his massage chair, a mess of skin and hair and beer cans. A baseball game was blaring on the TV.

  “Darla,” he said. “Go away.”