His jaw did that thing again with the clenched teeth. He closed his eyes and stepped back away from me. All bets were closed. The one thing for certain was that my future was still undetermined, no matter what wardrobe I wore and books I read. Nothing guaranteed that Wesley was going to wake up and suddenly find me irresistible. But I had to give it a chance. No matter how much I wanted Mark Reilly and all the feelings that came with him. To be the one who cared unconditionally for him. To put blinders on to his misguided past and mend his insecurities. To be myself, because he seemed to love that girl. I simply couldn't.
A loud crash came from inside my house. I practically jumped into Mark’s arms. “What was that?”
He leaned into the glass-front window and peered inside. “There's someone in there.”
“What?” I cupped my hands to see who it was. Suddenly the front porch light came on. I was shocked to see who it was.
“Ashley, how did you get in? What are you doing here?” I stood in disbelief, looking at my sister, who appeared to be thinner than the last time I saw her. And her hair was shorter, up to her shoulders with more bounce than I thought we could achieve with this thick, coarse texture. Now I knew I was going to find someone else for my next hair appointment. I'd still keep Mabel on my Christmas card list though.
“The key was still under the pot, Amy. It's good to see you too.” She grabbed and hugged me. My arms were trapped by my sides. My look was that of being attacked by the crazy aunt no one wanted to be seated next to at Thanksgiving. Ashley smelled like strawberries and wine. No doubt a new concoction to lure and trap unsuspecting men. I admit, it did smell good though.
“And who is this?” She stopped short of her half-embrace and did a visual inventory of Mark, giving an approving look after her eyes touched down to his feet.
“This is Mark. Dr. Mark Reilly.” I moved to partially cover him from the talons of my sister.
Ashley nudged me away from her new point of interest. Predators always needed to keep their prey within the crosshairs of their visual. “Well, come inside. What are we doing out here? And why is he bringing you home, Amy? Is your car broken or something?”
“Of course, my broken-down car would be the reason someone would be with me, right?” Nothing changed with Ashley's opinion of how socially challenged I was.
“I've actually got to be going. It's late, and I have an early shift tomorrow. It was good to meet you, Ashley. Take care of Amy.” His eyes stabbed into my conscience one more time.
It sounded so final. Wasn't he just going to work the next day? I'd see him there. Take care of me?
“Oh, please. Amy takes care of herself and everyone else who has a paper cut within a five-mile radius. She's such a good girl. You haven't figured that one out yet?” She actually pinched my cheek, like I was a toddler. “Seriously, though, why are you two together and why are you getting home so late, Amy? Isn't it after ten? Isn't your curfew nine o'clock? Don't tell me your knitting class ran over again?”
“Ashley, why do you have to do this?”
She grabbed her chest. The one that clearly announced her push up bra. “What? What am I doing, Amy? I'm just picking on you. I've missed you.”
If that was her missing me, I didn't want to feel her love. “Did you go to the hospital yet?”
“No. I thought I'd wait for you.” She ignored the fact that I was still standing there, to refocus on the fresh meat that stood on my front porch.
“Mark, what do you say about dinner tomorrow evening? What time is your shift over?” She didn't miss an opportunity. I rolled my eyes and settled in on Mark's response. Surely, he wouldn't think to keep company with my sister. Wasn't there a Fair Play Treaty? One that stated if you pledged your feelings for one sister, you waited, say a year, before moving onto the other one? By then, Ashley would be back in California, or wherever she came from.
Mark looked at me when he answered my sister. “Actually, I can't think of any reason why I couldn't have dinner with you tomorrow evening. I get off at four o'clock. How about five? I'll pick you up here?”
My nostrils almost broke from expansion. How dare he. I turned and walked into the house, stomping up the stairs, never removing my shoes or ending my part in the conversation that seemed to have excluded my opinion. When Ashley knocked five minutes later to see if I wanted any pizza, I told her I was already in bed and would see her the next morning. I needed the extra time to camouflage my irritation for the ordinary date that was pending between the guy I had no claim on and the sister that crawled under my skin.
“Ashley, wake up.” I poked her arm. It was ten o'clock the next morning, and I needed to relieve my guilt and get to the hospital to check on Wesley. I'd planned to stop on the way and eat a quick breakfast. Today would be a test to my constitution. Ashley managed to always be that test. The one who pushed all my bad buttons, all the while wearing an angelic smile and perfect hair.
“All right, all right. Don't you ever sleep in? It's Sunday, for goodness’ sakes.” She rolled over and shielded her eyes from the sun blaring in from the window where I had raised the shade.
I looked on her nightstand. Pizza crust and a Diet Coke can sat on top of the piece of linen passed down from our great grandmother. Ashley couldn’t have cared less. I saw nothing had changed in the piggy department of her housekeeping skills. Wesley didn't know what a bullet he dodged when she moved away. I prided myself on a clean house. Sheets changed weekly, the house dusted, and laundry never reaching the top of the basket. I shuddered to think what Ashley's apartment looked like.
“We did sleep in. It's ten o'clock. I thought we'd eat before going to see Wesley. Now get up.” I knew I'd have to check on her at least five times before Ashley would actually throw a leg out of the covers.
I walked over to my sister's suitcase and opened it, curious to see the kind of clothes she was wearing these days. I always envied Ashley's taste in fashion. How easy it was for her to wear provocative clothing and look absolutely comfortable with the plunging necklines and short skirts. I couldn't even wear lingerie in a bag, walking through the mall.
“I love this blouse. Where did you buy it?” I held up a floral wrap-around shirt, sure to show a hint of cleavage. I smiled, imagining wearing it to see Mark. That traitor.
Ashley never raised her head from the pillow. “I don't know.”
I kicked the bed. “Ashley, you're not even looking. Can I wear it today?”
Ashley raised her head. “Sure. You did say he was in a coma, right?”
She buried her head back under the pillow. “Yes, but today might be the day he wakes up.”
I disappeared into my room, holding tight to my new loot. I disrobed and slipped the blouse over my head. The flowers pressed snugly against my pale skin, the edging plunging into my cleavage. A pair of skinny jeans completed the outfit. I slipped my hair out of the ponytail and let it fall past my shoulders. A quick touchup of make-up and I'd be set. Mark Reilly would know what sister he was missing out on tonight. But why would I care? Wasn't my Prince Charming still sleeping? Where in the world did I put that crystal ball, telling me what a year from now looked like?
“Ashley, I'm going out to the car.” I yelled from the front door, tapping my foot.
Ashley walked down the stairs wearing a pair of faded jeans, tight and boot cut, with a pair of white heels. They matched her transparent white blouse. It was tucked in with a thin, brown belt. I tried not to stare, wondering if she was wearing a bra. Surely, she wouldn't leave the house half naked. Not a lot of time was devoted to polishing her off. She could wear anything and still ooze sexy. The way she pouted her lips, twirled her master-cut hair, and batted her eyes. It didn't take fashion, just her sex appeal. I noticed her arms looked more sculpted. Was she going to the gym too? Nah, I was forgetting this was the girl who purposely twisted her ankle in a hole outside of the school, just so she would be excused from gym class for three weeks.
“Jeez, I'm coming. Whoa, why are you so dresse
d up?” She did a once over of me. “Are you trying to wake the coma patient with your outfit?”
I held the door for my pestilent sister. I actually missed her? Not being a professional slinger of bullshit, I had no comeback. It was going to be a long day for me.
“You took so long, there's nowhere to go for breakfast. Do you want to grab lunch somewhere before we go to the hospital, or do you want to wait? How hungry are you?” I put my car in drive and pulled out, slowly, waiting for which direction to drive.
“I'm starving. Is the sub shop still open downtown?”
“Yeah. We'll go there then.”
We made it before the lunch crowd. Of course, the guy behind the counter couldn't get our order right. He was too busy ogling both of us. Yes, that's right. I was on the receiving end of some serious flirt action. It must have been the blouse. I kept checking it to make sure my boobs weren't presenting themselves. I knew I was going to suffer a neck ache before the day was over.
We sat down and ate at the table by the window. The bright sun felt good on my face. I tried not to stare at how Ashley was inhaling her food. She'd ordered a twelve-inch Italian sub, no onions, and extra dressing. If this was how she maintained her pencil-thin figure, I was all over it.
She pulled some lettuce that had fallen out of her sandwich and stuffed it in her mouth. “I'm going back on my no-carb diet tomorrow.” Her eyes rolled back in her head.
“Oh, you're on a diet?” I knew it was too good to be true. This was probably her binge day. I could never get away with that. Let me loose for one day, that's all it took for a few thousand sneaky lipids to find their way to my thighs and butt. I was pretending to be enjoying my veggie sub with a fake smile painted on my face. The crunch of the green peppers reminded me to take an antacid on the way over to the hospital.
“Of course I'm on a diet. If you saw what I was up against in L.A., you'd think I was the fat one.”
“Do you have your own place now? Or are you still rooming with that girl, Francesca?”
“I'm still sharing a place with her. I tried out for a small part on CSI before I came up here. My agent called me and said it was for the distraught wife of a football player. It seems he was killed or something. I was too nervous. I don't know if I did well or not.” She licked the salt off her fingers from the chip bag.
“That's awesome, Ashley. I had no idea that you were doing television. Weren't you doing theater?” I piled our trash on the tray, ready to take it to the trashcan.
“I was. I still am sometimes. I fired my last agent. This one absolutely rocks. She has so many connections. She worked with the agency that managed Uma Thurman and William Shatner. She's certain I'll get a lead role soon.” Ashley sucked the rest of the soda from her cup, before tossing it into the trash.
I held the door for her as we started down the sidewalk to my parked car. The cold sub shop had made goose bumps on my arms. The warm air was beginning to thaw me out. Ashley took the lipstick out of her purse and began painting her lips as we walked. I followed suit, but waited until I had the rearview mirror to do mine. I felt her watch me as I smeared my lips together. I, and the other diva, rode to the hospital, for once having shared a common primp.
My nerves stretched tight in my stomach the higher we climbed in the elevator. Maybe it was my too-flattering shirt, maybe it was Ashley's half-buttoned one. I would've felt better if we were both wearing turtlenecks at this point. I was taking my sister to the man who never got over her. What if he woke up when Ashley went in the room? I would know I wasn't his forever.
I noticed Mark wasn't in the halls or in the kitchen. I tried my best not to look as though I was taking attendance. Ashley was oblivious to my agenda. She strolled into the room and stopped two steps from the door when she saw Wesley. She didn't share my Helen Keller quality.
“Well, go on. He doesn't bite.” I shoved her a little on the arm. I could've sworn I felt a muscle.
Ashley elbowed me back. “I'll go. I'm just acclimating to the room and the fact that he looks extremely incapacitated. Not anything like I imagined.”
“What did you imagine? He's in a coma, Ashley. Not sleeping off a hangover.”
“Are you sure he's going to wake up, Amy?” She walked to the foot of his bed. She had lost her L.A. tan and looked somewhat pale.
“They said his scans showed good signs for a complete recovery. I guess it's taking a while for his body to heal. I don't know, Ashley. I'm not a doctor. I think he's going to be fine.” I laid my purse on the chair and stood close to Ashley. I noticed her nails were digging into the leather of her bag.
“Was he on his way home? Was there anyone else who got hurt?” Her feet remained stuck on the floor at the foot of his bed.
I wasn't about to tell my sister about the details of that night. Not yet. Not until I felt like Ashley wasn't the enemy and wouldn’t use the information against me—like suggesting it was for the best that we get a divorce. I knew she never thought I was good enough for him. Maybe she wants a fourth try with him. “They think that he overcorrected the car and it hit a guardrail and flipped. Luckily, no one else was hurt.”
“Wow.” She touched the blanket where his feet were. A nurse came into the room and startled her.
“Oh, Amy. How have you been? I must have missed you last night.” It was Kelly, the daytime nurse. She was so attentive to Wesley. Always talking to him, as if he heard her when she changed his saline bags and recorded the numbers on the machine by his bed.
“Hi, Kelly. This is my sister, Ashley.” Ashley turned around.
“Oh my goodness. You two look so much alike.” She stared at us in amazement, her hand on her hip.
“We're twins, but not identical.” Ashley smiled, probably happy that we weren't.
“You both are so pretty.” She smiled and checked the IV in Wesley's arm. After scrawling some numbers down on a slip of paper, she walked to the door. “I'll be back in later, guys. Have a nice visit.”
“Are you going to talk to him or what?” I asked Ashley. I had a schedule to keep. She still had a shell-shocked look in her eyes. I remembered she never would visit Mom during her last days. At first I took it that Ashley was merely cold-hearted, but now that I'm older, I think maybe she can't deal with disaster. Who can? I just force myself. Someone has to be the older one. Even if it's only by four minutes.
“And say what, Amy? It's not like he can talk back.” She wasn't moving. It wasn't like Ashley to look so uncomfortable in any situation. Was she going to go willingly to his side, or would I have to push her?
“They tell me all the time to talk to him. Maybe he'll hear you and wake up or something. Just try it, Ashley.” My tone became less suggestive and more assertive.
Ashley walked closer to his hand, finally touching him, as though he'd break if she added pressure. She looked at his face, keeping everything she was thinking within the confines of her mind. I watched her like I was recording data.
“Hey there Wesley. I think your little sabbatical is coming to an end. Although sponge baths are probably a huge turn on for you, it's time to wake up and get your butt back to work. Are you getting paid leave or what?”
I had imagined a more heart-to-heart instead of a Jimmy Fallon stand-up performance. I needed to see some true love discourse and fast. My plan to see if Ashley was his true love wouldn't work without Ashley's cooperation.
I stood at a safe distance from the bed. The test wouldn't work if he sensed I was close by. “Go ahead and do something so that he knows you're there,” I whispered.
Ashley turned around. “Are you not hearing words come forth from my mouth, Amy? What else could I possibly do? You want a lap dance?” That would be too much to ask, right?
How to suggest lip contact without raising questions? “How about giving him a kiss?”
“Excuse me? Are you serious?” Her eyebrows arched.
“Absolutely, that's a great idea.” I smiled and gave her an approving nod like it was no big deal.
Mark walked in the room. He stopped when he saw us standing around Wesley like he was a part of a ritual. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt.”
“Maybe you could do the honors.” Ashley made light of my covert mission.
Mark didn't stop looking at me. Was it the fact that my boobs were making their debut or something else? I chose to believe he was shallow and liked my outfit. Had I thought he wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see him, I might have to reconsider my plan of marriage counseling. The “no trespassing” look in my eyes kept him at a distance. “What honor is that?” Mark asked.
“Amy wants me to kiss Wesley.” She waited for his reaction.
Wesley knew what I was up to. To find out whether Ashley was the one Wesley would wake up for. I was so stupid to confide my master plan to him.
He took the chart from the wall and looked it over, seemingly disinterested in what Ashley had said. “Are Amy's lips broken?”
I crooked my jaw. Was he trying to sabotage this test or what? Maybe, I'd show him how broken my lips were and kiss him. Maybe he'd like that. I knew I would, so I didn't fixate on that thought for too long.
“Yes, you caught me. My lips are suffering from multiple fractures. Pardon me for wanting him to feel involved with all the people who love and care for Wesley. I don't think a simple touch of the hand is doing the trick. Do you not care for him, Ashley? Do you not want to kiss him and let him know we're eager to see him awake?” I figured putting her on the defense would work better than an idea from me.
Waking Amy (Amy #1) Page 13