by Roni Teson
“Trish?”
“Charlotte says my name is Beatrice, and she keeps calling me Bea. So does George, and my nurse, Jessica, and the doctors . . . and everyone,” she says. “I’d rather be Trish.”
I scrunch my nose.
“What’s with the kooky face?” she says. “It’s a lot like Lucas to Lou, right?”
She doesn’t look like she’s in pain.
“How are you feeling . . . Trish?”
“You just asked me that. I’m on pain medicine, so I’m loopy. A little chatty, but I think I know you, Luke.” Her crooked smile makes my heart thump so hard it might hit China. She’s propped up on pillows and her body is wrapped in a purple blanket. She’s wearing lip-gloss and eyeliner. I’m excited that she’s made the effort.
“Bea, you look really good,” I say. “Your hair has gotten longer, and you . . . don’t look like what I expected.”
“Trish,” she says, and then she grabs onto her forehead and squints.
I rise up in the chair and put my hand on her arm.
The pain seems to subside because she stops squinting. “What’d you expect, Luke?”
“Lou,” I say.
“I know you as Luke.”
“You know me,” I say.
“Yes,” she laughs.
“I know you as Bea,” I say.
“Touché, smarty pants.” She puts her hand on top of mine. “You can call me Bea. I’m just messing with you.”
“What?”
“Aunt Charlotte told me about the ‘Lou’ thing. So I made that up.”
“Not cool,” I say. Her hand is warm and soft and I resist the temptation to kiss it.
“It’s nice to see you,” she says.
I grin. “You know that I forgot who I was for a while?”
“Yes,” she says. “It’s not fun having no memory.”
“I seem to have it all back now.” I lick my lips. My mouth is so dry that I’m practically croaking at her. “You sound like you remember some things.”
She puts her hand out flat and wiggles it back and forth, meaning so-so. “Some of it’s here.”
I don’t know what to say so I look around her room. It’s just a room in Charlotte’s house. It’s not Bea’s room. “You have a nurse?”
“Yeah, she’s Amilee’s mom.”
“The Seattle people?”
“Yeah. And apparently I’m a trust fund baby. When Dad died, he left me a lot of dough.”
“Your dad’s dead?” I ask.
“Years ago,” she says.
Now the wacky is coming out. Here we go.
“I guess I never knew that.” I try to play it off.
“Luke, Teddy isn’t my dad,” she says.
She grabs her forehead again and her face contorts. “Give me a sec.” Her pale skin comes out in splotches. “It’ll pass.” She’s holding her breath and then she exhales. Her eyes are suddenly bloodshot and watery.
She yanks her hand away and pulls the covers way up to her chin. Pouting now, she says, “What are you doing here, Grant? Why aren’t you in Seattle?”
I’m confused. “Grant?”
She pulls the blanket in tighter. She’s not shining from the inside anymore—it’s a complete withdrawal. So I answer her because I want her back, the way she was a few seconds ago. “Thought I’d visit.”
She frowns and says, “It was only a single night. You almost killed me.” She examines me. “Have you been in Cali for a while? You’re really tan.”
I nod.
“Where are you staying? Seaside Inn?”
I nod. I know I’m gaping at her, but she doesn’t notice. Her eyes are vacant.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you, it was not completely your fault.”
“Refresh my memory?” I say.
“You’re so silly. You know I love Luke.” She nudges my hand away. “Go away. I need to sleep.”
I go downstairs and Charlotte says, “Your Mom called.”
I shrug.
“You should have told me.” She wrinkles her forehead. “They’re coming to get you.”
I’m so distracted. I don’t care if they punish me for life. “I think Bea remembers me, but she’s a little twisted.” I look at Charlotte and tick off the list. “Teddy isn’t her dad. Her real dad is dead. Amilee’s mom is her nurse. She has a trust fund. And then she confused me with Grant.”
Charlotte winces.
“Who’s Grant?” I say. “And does Beatrice go by Trish?”
Charlotte groans. “She did that to you? She’s high on pain medicine. I told her about your situation.”
“She made that up, right?”
“Yeah, sorry. She thought it’d be funny. She remembers you, Luke. I spend hours with her, answering questions about her mom and dad, and pieces of her life. I think she’s slowly remembering other things, too. But she’s always remembered you. Grant was a boy at her school in Seattle.”
I can’t stand the idea of Beatrice Malcolm with anyone but me.
“She’s scattered at times . . . She has these illusions. But she’ll remember. Just like you did.” Charlotte puts her hand on my chin and inspects my face.
I blink my eyes separately and flare my nostrils, but she keeps looking so I raise one brow then the other. I wiggle my nose, crinkle my forehead, and now I’m all out of facial spasms, so I say, “What are you looking for?”
Her eyes refocus on me, as if she’s been in a trance. Then, she pinches my chin. “Seeing if you’re in there. You look better than ever,” she says. “And I’m trying to build up the courage to tell you . . . Why don’t you swim, go to college, and walk away from all of this?”
“Because of Bea,” I say without a second of consideration. “I’d do anything for her.”
George is sitting at the table with the newspaper spread out and a beer in his hand. He chuckles and says, “Your dad’s truck just pulled up. Don’t run.”
“Whatever,” I say to him, and then I turn to Charlotte. “Can Bea come to my swim meet?”
George and Charlotte lock eyes, and he answers, more serious now. “Might be too soon.”
“When can I see her again?” I ask. “This weekend? After the meet . . .”
“Let’s see how she’s feeling,” Charlotte says.
Dad taps on the front door and enters with his toolbox. “You can thank my son for getting me over here,” he shouts toward George. Then he walks up to me and I’m ready for a punch, but instead he hugs me. “Don’t run off like that without telling me where you’re going.” He gently pushes my chest away and walks toward the kitchen.
Cool. I feel like I was just given a get out of jail free card. Then Dad whips his head around and says, “I wouldn’t smile so bright. You will be grounded.”
“What was I supposed to do, tell you I was leaving? You—“
Dad waves his hand. “Not here. Not now. Later.”
Then Mom steps inside. I thought he’d come alone. But she’s standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, Charlotte.”
Mom points her finger at me, and she’s about to say something but Charlotte takes her arm and guides her toward the table.
“Can he swim?” George asks.
“Olympics,” Dad says. “He’s really good.”
“No, I mean since he got his memory back. Any issues?”
I snap my tongue on the roof of mouth and say, “Try and stop me. I’m swimming tomorrow.”
Everyone’s talking at once, even Dad from under the sink. George raises his voice. “Alright, I’m sure he’s fine. Look at him.”
I stand there with tight fists hanging at my sides, gnawing on my lower lip.
Mom stares at me and then says, “They just want us to keep an eye on him. If he has no symptoms of dizziness or vomiting he can swim.” She moves near me and squeezes my arm. “You scared me. Don’t run off like that again.”
I look away from her.
“Why don’t you guys come to the meet?” Dad says from the edge of the dinin
g room. His hair is standing straight up.
Mom and Charlotte both try to fix it. He swats both of them away. And everyone chuckles.
“I’ll be there,” George says. “I hear your memory came back, Luke.”
I nod.
Charlotte says, “Floodgates?”
“Yes,” I answer. But I’m hurt that she wants me out of Bea’s life; it doesn’t make sense. Beatrice is the reason I swim and the reason I live.
We move to the front door and say our good-byes. I hug Charlotte and whisper, “Do you really want me out of Bea’s life?”
“No,” she says. “It’d just be easier for you. You’re doing so well.”
“I love her.”
“You don’t know her,” Charlotte says real low in my ear. Then she steps away from me and hugs Mom and Dad.
On the way home Mom says. “Grounded. Two weeks, Luke.”
“What?”
“Don’t act like you can’t remember,” Mom snaps.
“You’re lucky nothing happened,” Dad says. “You might not have been able to swim.”
I’m not even going to mention Simon’s sudden stop and my dizziness. We drive the rest of the way in silence. Me thinking about how I’m going to sneak out again to see Bea, but knowing full well they’ll drop the punishment within a day or two—as they always do.
Chapter 38
When we get home from Beatrice’s house, I go to my room and start my routine. I’m into the push-ups when Mom knocks on the door. “Can I come in?”
“Sure,” I respond from the floor, in between grunts.
“You’re supposed to be calm.” She comes in and sits on the bed.
I relax and lay flat on the rug. “Something wrong?” I ask.
She looks downcast and her lips are drawn real tight. “I want to talk to you,” she says.
“This isn’t going to be good,” I say, pressing my cheek to the rug. “I can see it on your face.”
“Charlotte’s right, you know.”
“About what?” I ask.
“Getting on with your life. You’re only seventeen. You don’t really know this girl, and you’ll grow.” She stammers. “And . . . and change, even more than you have.”
I pop my head up to see if she’s joking and my throat tightens when I realize she’s not. “Mom, Bea’s the reason I want to be alive.”
Her shoulders slump down, and I know she’s about to choose her words carefully. I can almost see the thought patterns in her eyes. “You’ve got to work on your grades. And this swimming thing has taken on a life of its own. Why don’t you give the Beatrice thing a rest?”
I stare at her because I cannot believe what I’m hearing.
“You know, the obsession with this girl. . . . Can you . . . find another interest?” She asks.
“My heart knows what it wants,” I say, and bump my head against the floor.
“Careful with your brain.” Her hands reach out to me, as if I’m Humpty Dumpty and she needs to prevent the fall. “After all that relearning, and the physical therapy. No hits on the head. I mean it!” she barks.
I sit up. “I’m not going to break in two. I’m healthy.”
Mom gets this faraway look on her face. And something’s going on inside her head because suddenly she focuses on me like a laser. “I’m going to tell you something that I hope I don’t regret.”
“I’m listening,” I say. But I’m irritated, too, because I sense what’s coming.
“Beatrice Malcolm got herself into a bit of trouble in Seattle, with drugs and boys. She wasn’t waiting for you, or pining over you when she was gone.” Mom huffs. “She’s not your soul mate. She’s trouble.” She stares at me, as if she’s waiting for my agreement.
“Why even tell me these things?” I say.
“No good can come of this relationship,” Mom says.
“Can’t I learn that on my own?” I ask. She starts to say something more, but I stop her. “Don’t say any more, Mom. Please.”
“Okay . . . but my mother did the same thing to me with my first love. It’s the nature of the beast.”
“Which is the beast—moms or love?” I ask.
“Both,” she says, as she moves to the door.
I jump up and grab my hand weights, counting out loud with each pump, turning my back to her. But I hear the creak on the floor outside my door and when she’s completely gone, I fold. I put the weights down and darkness fills my insides.
I know guys aren’t supposed to cry, and lately I’ve done more than my share. But I’ve got all these memories rolling around in my mind and everyone wants me to walk away from the love of my life. I strip down to my skivvies. Lie on top of my bedspread and cry myself to sleep.
I wake up to the smell of bacon. I’m shivering on top of the bed. I realize I’ve got to shake off this girl thinking and focus on my swim meet. I go to the bathroom and wash my face. Then I find Mom and Dad in the kitchen. My plate is waiting for me. I rip off the cover and dig in. I’m starved.
“How’d you sleep?” Dad says.
“Good.” Some eggs fly out of my mouth.
“Slow down, Lou,” Mom says. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“Sorry,” I say.
Mom and Dad are glancing at each other and then watching me. Dad clears his throat and says, “Forget about what your mom talked about last night. Let’s just focus on the meet today, okay?”
“Geez, Dad. I was, until you brought it up.” I pour a glass of juice and guzzle. I feel like I can’t get enough of anything. “After this meet I want to surf again.”
Mom flashes Dad a look. “Let me call the doctor first?” she says. “Just to be sure.”
“I miss surfing. I’ll start slow, on the big board,” I say.
“Sure, after Mom talks to the doctor,” Dad says. “About the swim meet today, a lot of people are going. Will’s bringing some of his friends. Abby called this morning. We all love you and want the best for you.”
“Don’t get sappy on me, Dad. I’ve got to win today. It’s my mission,” I say. “You going to drop me off early, or do you want to stay for my warm-up?”
“We’re there for the duration. Coach Hammond has a reserved area for your people.”
“Charlotte and George, too?”
“Yes,” Mom says.
I don’t ask about Beatrice.
We finish our breakfast in silence. My thoughts drift to how I was before the beating. All this time I thought Lou had caught up and was speaking and thinking as fast as Luke did. I know I’m one and the same person. But I’m not the same. My mind is slower. The grades that used to be straight A’s are dipping.
On the good side, I’m more in tune with people. I can sense things better, because I pay attention. But it’s almost like I have to really focus now, because if I don’t—I’m going to miss something. I thought I was still ‘playing’ catch up every time Simon helped me with my homework or just let me copy his. As I’m realizing it, the question flies out of my mouth: “Do I have brain damage?”
“You had a head injury, Luke. In some respects, you’re still recovering,” Dad says, and then he frowns. “Everything will level out again. Just takes time.”
Mom clears the table and leaves Dad and me alone.
“Dad, Let’s face it. I’m not going to college early. I wanted that for so long. But now, I can’t. And there’s a reason.”
“Yeah, because you almost died. Let’s get through the meet and then we’ll talk. You’ll get your scholarship and go to college at the same time as your friends.”
“I’m good as gold for winning this meet,” I say. “But we can talk later.”
“Yep.”
Mom stands in the doorway. “Let’s get ready to go.”
It takes me about a half hour to ‘primp,’ Dad’s word. I shower and clean up, and when I walk into the living room with my duffel bag, Dad’s laughing at me. “I don’t understand why you get all dolled up so you can dive in the pool,” he says.
Dad claps me on the back. “Move out of the way, big head coming through.”
“Step aside Mom, Lucas Louie the Drake’s ego has arrived!” I say. We all burst out laughing, and that’s a welcome relief.
Dad drives Mom’s car and she fusses at him the entire way. “I don’t know why I want my love so bad, if she’s going to behave like you, Mom,” I say. “True love is brutal.”
“Stop it, Luke. No backseat drivers.” She taps Dad on the shoulder and says, “Watch that turn, Kyle.”
Dad laughs. “You’re driving home, Samantha.”
We finally get to the school and I go to the locker room. The guys straggle in behind me. I’m early, but I get ready to take my warm-up laps because I like to go first. The coach stops me on the way to the pool.
“Big day, Drake,” he says. “Glad you’ve come so far. Let’s not look back.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I say, and I head toward the pool. The water feels so good. I save my jet engines for the race, but my arms stretching full length and my body gliding through the pool makes me relax. I must be taking more laps than normal, because soon the pool is filling up with swimmers and the stands with spectators.
I pull myself out of the pool. Mom and Dad wave from the bleachers. Simon, Tate, and Murphy are sitting right behind them. And there’s Isabella, talking to Dad and Abby.
I’m watching them, when I hear, “Hey.”
“Will! I haven’t seen you in forever.” He’s right in front of me, I almost ran into him.
“Looking really good, my man,” he says, and shakes my hand with a firm grasp.
“You know what they say . . . Win big or go home.” I laugh.
“We need to work out again,” he says. “You’re still my favorite, but don’t tell anyone.”
I head toward the locker room. Every inch of my being is zapping with energy. The follicles on my head buzz, my heart is bouncing, and my toes want to dance. I’ve got people showing up just to watch me. I’m a bag of jittering lima beans.
Coach Hammond waits until everyone is in the locker room, then he gathers the team together.
“You’re my lucky seven,” he says. “We’ve been down this road before. It’s all about each man’s personal best. Let’s focus on qualifying for state and all the blessings that come with a winning season!” He bows his head. “Luke, lead us in a prayer.”