Eighteen (18)

by J. A. Huss

  We drive over to the hospital in silence. He doesn’t even turn the music on. And when we get to the ER, he helps me walk in and makes me sit down while he explains what’s wrong.

  We wait for almost an hour to be shown to a room, then another twenty minutes to be seen.

  “Jesus Christ,” the young doctor says, looking at my ear. “What happened?” He glares at Sunday like he’s to blame for my condition.

  “I get swimmer’s ear at least twice a year. I just need some antibiotics and drops.”

  “Do you swim?”

  They ask this every time. “No.” And they always give me that same look. “I don’t know why I get it, I just do. And I need drops and antibiotics to make it better. Can you please just write me a prescription?”

  “We’ll have to flush it out and—”

  “No,” I say. “That will hurt even more and make it worse. I’ve done this before. I’m telling you, I just need the drops and the antibiotics. I know how to fix it, I get these all the time.”

  “Look, kid, you can’t get drops inside the ear canal unless I clean it out, so—”

  “Hey,” Sunday says, pushing the doctor away from me. “She said she needs drops and antibiotics. Just write the fucking prescriptions. The longer you stand here and argue about it, the longer she’s in pain.”

  The doctor huffs. He looks young. I hate the young ones. They always have alternative ideas about why I get the infections and they always fuck it up even worse. “You’re gonna have to wait outside.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Sunday says, pushing the doctor in the chest. “She told you what the problem is, she told you she has a history of it, and if you don’t write those prescriptions, I’m gonna go out in that hallway and find someone who will.”

  “They’re not free, you know. And she has no insurance,” the doctor says, glaring at Sunday. “We don’t take indigent cases here. You’re going to have to—”

  Sunday takes out his wallet, opens it up, and shoves some bills into the doctor’s chest. “She’s not indigent, asshole. We’re just paying cash. So write the fucking prescriptions and we’ll leave you to your work.”

  They have one of those manly stand-offs, eyes blazing, egos rising, and chests practically bumping.

  But Sunday stands his ground and the doctor pulls out his prescription pad. “I’m just trying to help you, kid. Your boyfriend isn’t doing you any favors.” He scribbles as he talks, ripping the prescriptions off one at a time. “I’ll write you one for codeine too, to get you out of the pain.”

  “Thank you,” I say. But I’m looking at Sunday when I say it.

  Twenty minutes later I’m gulping pills outside the hospital pharmacy and Sunday is looking at me like I might die on him. “I’ll be OK, I swear. You can take me home.”

  “I’m not dropping you at home. You’re coming to stay with me until someone who gives more fucks than I do shows up to take over.”

  I don’t argue. I just want to sleep this whole thing off and I do not care where I do that. I rest my head against the window, the daylight fading away with me as I drift off.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Open the fucking door!”

  I jolt upright in bed at the sound of Jason’s voice. But then Danny is yelling back. There’s a scuffle outside, like they’re fighting. Someone gets knocked up against the door and it comes flying open.

  Jason falls to the ground and looks at me. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he yells, getting to his feet and coming towards me. Danny grabs him by the shirt and throws him back to the ground.

  “I told you to stay the fuck out of my house,” Danny says. “Now you’ve got three seconds to get your ass out before I break one of your legs.”

  Jason gets back up, but his anger and glare are both directed at me. “You left me hanging, Shannon. You left me fucking hanging last night. As far as I’m concerned, you’re done. Don’t come home. And don’t ever plan on seeing your niece again.”

  He pushes past Danny and we both stare at each other as Jason makes his way out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

  “Fuck,” Danny says. “Your brother-in-law is an asshole.”

  “I know,” I say, letting out a long sigh.

  “How you feeling?”

  “Better,” I say, touching my ear. “How long did I sleep?”

  “About eighteen hours.” Danny laughs. “It was probably the pills.”

  I look down at the bed, realize where I’m at, and then get up quickly, only to sit back down as my head spins.

  “Hey,” Danny says, coming over to steady me. “Just relax, man. Jason is full of shit. He’s not kicking you out, he’s not taking your niece away. He’s just pissed off about his situation and he’s taking it out on you. But believe me, when Phil finds out about this, he’ll set him straight.”

  “What’s Phil got to do with Jason?”

  But before Danny can answer, Rocky is in the open doorway, knocking on the wall outside. “Sorry to interrupt, but Mateo Alesci is outside, Danny. And he’s looking for Shannon.”

  Danny looks over at me, his eyes narrowing in understanding.

  “OK,” Rocky says. “I’m out of here. But you better go talk to him, Dan, because if Phil gets home and sees him in the driveway, there’s gonna be blood.”

  Rocky leaves, pounding down the stairs. When she opens the door I can hear Mateo’s voice, but then she closes it quickly and that fades.

  “Please tell me Mateo Alesci is not the boyfriend.”

  I just stare at him.

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Shannon. You’re a goddamned mess. Do you even know who the fuck he is?”

  I don’t even know where to begin with that. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.” I stand up again, but Danny places both hands on my shoulders and pushes me back.

  “Just stay here. I’ll get rid of him. Unless you want to go down there, and then I’m out too and you’re on your own tonight.”

  “No,” I say. “I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”

  He nods. “OK. BRB.” He pounds down the stairs too. The door down below opens and Mateo is immediately asking about me.

  I get up and walk over to the window, looking out through the sheer white curtains. Mateo is mad, I can tell that much. But Danny stands his ground, shaking his head. They are about the same height, but Mateo has ten years on Danny and it shows in the bulk of his muscular body. Mateo’s not wearing his leather jacket and jeans, like he normally does. Instead he’s dressed in the remnants of a suit. White dress shirt, dark slacks, and a loose tie hanging around his neck.

  Mateo glances up at the window, and I hold still, but he must not see me, because his attention goes back to Danny. He hands him something and then Mateo walks off and gets in his car. I watch him drive away as Danny thunders back up the stairs.

  “He said to give you this.” I turn to look at Danny and he’s holding my phone in his hand. “Said you left it at home and to call him when you’re feeling better.”

  “Thanks,” I say, taking the phone and stuffing it in my pocket. I guess Mateo went into my bedroom because I had to have left it next to my pillow when Danny took me to the ER. Why does he think he’s allowed to do that?

  “I don’t even know what to say. I mean, Jason is bad enough, but you add Mateo Alesci into this and… What the fuck are you thinking?”

  I have no good answer for that. I really don’t. I don’t see the connection between them and I can’t even begin to explain my relationship with Mateo, because not one thing we’ve done can be justified.

  “Well, they’re both gone now. You wanna hide out here with me tonight?”

  “Why are you so nice to me?”

  “What?” He laughs.

  “Nice to me. You have no good reason to be nice, and yet here you are.”

  “That’s me, Daydreams. The guy who’s always there.”

  “And thank you for the doctor. I’ll pay you back somehow.”

 
“No need, OK? I have plenty of money from my job with Phil, and you needed it. That’s all there is to it.”

  His job with Phil. Jason. Mateo. Blood in the driveway if Phil catches Mateo here. What the fuck is going on? But I’m afraid to ask. My life has so few good things in it, I really have no energy to solve this puzzle right now. So I settle on small talk. “I’ll still pay you back.”

  “I’ll still be your friend if you don’t.”

  “Friend, huh?”

  He walks over to the old leather couch on the wall opposite the bed and sinks down, leaning into the cushions and resting his long muscular arms along the back. “We’re friends, right?”

  “Yeah, we’re friends. But most guys usually want more, you know? Especially when they get invested in a girl.”

  “Is that what most guys want? I guess I wouldn’t know. They don’t treat Rocky that way because I’d kick their asses. And if they treat you that way, then you’re selling yourself short, Shannon. I’m not most guys and I don’t want to pressure you into liking me.”

  “I do like you.”

  “I mean, as more than friends.”

  I sigh.

  “I’m not going to kiss you or make a move. It’s not my style. You like Mateo?” Danny shrugs. “I can’t stop that. Aside from what I think about him personally, I don’t think a relationship with a guy that much older than you is gonna work. But I’m only eighteen, so what do I know? It’s your life.”

  “Thanks for that,” I say, placing my hand over my still tender ear. “I appreciate all of it, Danny, I really do.”

  He gets up and grabs the three prescription containers off the side table next to the bed and hands me a water bottle. “You’ve only taken two doses since last night, and I couldn’t get you to roll over for the drops. So take these,” he says, shaking out a pill from each of the bottles and handing them over. “And I’ll put the drops in while you watch some TV.”

  I take the pills and gulp them down and then lie on my side with the infected ear up. Danny grabs the drops and sits down next to me, gently moving my hair aside so he can see. “It looks a lot better today.” And then he drops the medicine in and I gasp from the cold sting. “Just call me Dr. Dan, the guy who fixes everything.”

  I smile and close my eyes, enjoying the relief that comes from the drops.

  The next time I wake, Danny is snoring on the couch and his face is lit up by the TV. I wonder what he meant by what he thinks of Mateo personally? He’s probably known him a long time. Phil must know him too, since Rocky made that remark about blood in the driveway if Phil catches him here.

  But I’m not in any condition to think too hard right now. So I eat two more pills and put some more drops in before closing my eyes again, content to sleep it off and let the real world wait me out.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I’m wearing Rocky’s jeans—which are too long for me, so they scuff on the ground when I walk—and Danny’s Metallica t-shirt when I make it to design class and start unpacking my laptop the next morning. No one called my phone, not that I would’ve answered it, but still. Neither of the two assholes in my life even bothered to call, and while Jason can go fuck himself, Mateo doesn’t get a pass like that. Not after our date last Saturday.

  Just what the fuck is his deal? He takes me to the beach, introduces me to his family, and then disappears for three days?

  No. That’s not right.

  “Shannon Drake?” Mrs. Sheridan, the teacher, calls from her desk.

  “Yeah?”

  “Mr. Bowman sent a request for you to see him in his office when you got in. Take the pass with you.”

  I sigh and push back from my chair as I pack my laptop back up. I take the pass and head out to the main building.

  Mr. Bowman is with a student in that giant room they call an office, and he points to a chair, ordering me to sit and wait in front of the attendance lady. I know her, I worked in the office last semester, so she sends me a sympathetic smile.

  Ten minutes later Mr. Bowman is ready for me. “Let’s take a walk, Shannon,” he says, directing me out into the hallway.

  I sigh again, like the teen I am, and follow him. He goes right out the front doors and stands at the top of the steps that look out on the traffic on Lincoln Avenue. “Is everything OK?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I hesitantly say.

  “Mr. Portman called and reported that you failed to show up for school last night.”

  “Who’s Mr. Portman?”

  “Your science teacher at Gilbert?” he replies, getting a little pissed off. “And you left school early on Tuesday too.”

  “Oh,” I say. “Well, he never told me his name. And I missed class because I was really sick. I have a receipt from the ER. Danny Alexander had to take me in on Tuesday afternoon.”

  “What about yesterday?” he asks, taking my receipt.

  “I was still sick, Mr. Bowman. Look, I have three prescriptions for my ear.” I fish out my pills and drops and hold them out. He takes them, frowning at my codeine.

  “Did you take this?” And now I can tell he’s mad.

  “I was in pain, Mr. Bowman. I’m not a fucking addict, OK? Just because my sister OD’d on painkillers doesn’t mean I’m abusing them too, you know.”

  He lets out a long breath. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t insinuating—”

  “You were insinuating,” I say, standing my ground. Jesus Christ. I cannot cut a break.

  “Well, you can’t have them at school, Shannon. If anyone sees these, you’ll be suspended. And I don’t need to remind you that you cannot afford a suspension if you want to graduate.”

  “Well, I haven’t even been home since I got out of the ER. I stayed at Danny’s house. So I won’t bring them tomorrow, OK? God.”

  He stares at me for a few moments and then his expression softens. “How are things going in science then?”

  “Great,” I say. “I’m like more than halfway done with that stupid class. All the tests are open-book and you can do them at your own pace. I told you I didn’t need another science credit. It’s a waste of time and resources to make me—”

  “Fine, fine. How is… Mr. Alesci?”

  “OK, I guess.”

  “I was told he had to leave town for work?”

  “I have no idea. All I know is that I showed up on Monday and he didn’t.” I’m pissed about that and hell if I’m gonna cover for him when he didn’t even bother to tell me not to waste my time and money on the bus.

  “It was work-related. There must’ve been a miscommunication. He called in that morning and said he was in Arizona for his graduate studies.”

  “Noted,” I say.

  “Are you going tonight?”

  “I guess, if he’s going to be there.”

  “He will.” And then Mr. Bowman gives me a long sideways glance. “Is everything OK with trig?”

  I shrug.

  “Has anything… inappropriate occurred?”

  “What?” Fuck. Jesus fuck, fuck, fuck. He knows something.

  “The janitor reported that he saw you get on his motorcycle on Friday evening. Did you?”

  “Look, it was late and I didn’t have any money for the bus so Mateo—”

  “Mateo?”

  “—Mr. Alesci,” I say, ready to kick myself for that slip-up, “offered to give me a ride since I had to walk. And look, I’m not about to turn down a ride in the dark, OK? Sue me for wanting to get home in time to take care of my niece.”

  He pauses at the mention of Olivia. “How is she?”

  “Fine. I have to get back to class, Mr. Bowman. I’m not skipping school, I was sick.”

  He smiles and I make my getaway. I am really on thin ice with him now, thanks to that ride last week. And that sucks. It sucks all the balls in the world because I don’t have any money for the bus today either.

  “Danny?”

  He’s sitting next to me on the wall today at lunch. He’s been acting a little big-brother all day. He even bough
t me a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch so I could wash down my pills and met me at the end of each class so he could walk me to my next one.

  “Yeah, Daydreams. I can tell you want something, so just spit it out. You’ve been acting quiet all day.”

  “Can you give me a ride to school tonight? I wouldn’t ask, but I don’t have money for the bus.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “Won’t you get in trouble from your boyfriend for that?”

  I look around to see if anyone is paying attention, but thankfully, they are all involved in their own conversations. “Shhh,” I say. “Please.”

  The lunch bell rings and he hops down off the wall. “You know I will. Pick you up too, if you need it.”

  “Thank you,” I say. And then he grabs my backpack and walks with me to English, where I am thankful that I finished the required book last week because I fall asleep on my desk the minute the boy at the podium starts reading from The Good Earth.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mateo is wearing a suit today when I walk into class at five o’clock. “You could’ve called me back last night.”

  Oh, he has some nerve. “You could’ve called me, period,” I snap.

  “I had to go out of town for—”

  “I know,” I snap again. “Bowman pulled me aside this morning and drilled me about you. The fucking janitor saw me get on your bike last Friday and apparently that is considered inappropriate.”

  He taps his mechanical pencil on the desk and then abruptly stands up. “Let’s go now. I’ll take you home.”

  “No,” I say. “No. I haven’t made any progress in this class and I’m going to fail. Give me the tests for units one and two.”

  “We haven’t even gone over the chapters yet.”

  “Whose fault is that? Give me the tests.”

  “We had an arrangement.”

  “Are you kidding me? Bowman is on to us. I’m not getting in trouble because you want your dick sucked.”

  “Don’t,” he warns.

  “Don’t what? Speak the truth?”