Finding Mikayla

by Samantha Christy

  “Kay, moving on doesn’t mean you’re giving up hope,” Amanda says. “Nobody expects you to hold vigil forever.”

  “You guys are. Why should I be any different?”

  “Because you have found someone to love, Kay,” Austin says.

  Love? Do they think I’m in love with Mitch?

  “I’m not in lo—”

  “Kay, shut up and let me finish. You can fool yourself all you want, but you’re not fooling anyone else.” He motions a finger between him and Amanda and says, “Who’s to say that if the tables were turned and someone came into our life, turning it upside down like Mitch has yours, that we wouldn’t be contemplating the same thing.”

  I try to understand what they are telling me. “You mean to say that you could see yourselves moving on if the right person came along?”

  “We aren’t saying that exactly,” Amanda says. “I think the point Austin is trying to get across is—never say never.”

  “Right,” Austin says. “Kay, we know you don’t need our permission to move on, that is between you and your own conscience. But you shouldn’t feel guilty. Nobody is putting you up on a pedestal and expecting you to remain faithful to Jeff’s memory.”

  Rachel, bored with the puzzle she has done a thousand times before, climbs into my lap and pulls a hair tie from my wrist. I brush her hair with my fingers and put in into a ponytail as I think about what my two friends have just told me.

  “I think I need to go for a ride,” I say.

  I spend the rest of the afternoon talking with Sassy. Who knew she was such a great therapist?

  ~ ~ ~

  Dear Jeff,

  I know it’s been a while since I’ve written. I also know why. And I understand that you will never read these letters. Even if by some miracle you come back, you will never read them. What I once thought was for you, I now know is for me.

  I write these letters only for myself. Maybe I write them to prove that I haven’t given up hope for your return. Maybe I write them as a reminder to myself that I made a commitment to you. Maybe I continue to write them to try and abate the all-consuming guilt over my feelings for another.

  Could what Austin said today be true? And, if so, is it possible to love two men at the same time? Because I love you, I do. I think I’ll always love you. But why then, when I think about my future . . . when I try to picture my happily-ever-after, is it Orion that I see?

  I can’t bring myself to finish the letter. I fold it up, smearing the ink with my tears that fell onto the paper as I tuck it away in the box under my bed.

  ~ ~ ~

  I kick myself when I wake up after a long night of much-needed sleep. Why did I not put myself on the schedule today? Of all days, I chose today to have free. What am I supposed to do with myself all day, just sit around and think about what happened one year ago, on arguably the worst day of everyone’s life?

  I tidy up the apartment that doesn’t need tidying. I wash my laundry, take a shower, read a book, and do anything else I can think of until I can’t take being alone anymore. So after lunch, I head to the place I know will make me smile. The clinic. Mitch is working solo today; just as he has been the last few times he’s been on shift. Well, that’s not entirely true. I seem to always find an excuse to go in when he’s working, just as he does when I’m working, so half the time we end up working together anyway.

  What I find when I get there is more than a little surprising. I can see into the exam room through the small window in the door, and what I see makes my jaw all but hit the ground. It’s Jamie, and she’s naked from the waist down. She is fluffing up her hair and arranging herself seductively on the bed.

  What the hell?

  Mitch comes from the back room and almost drops what he has in his hands when he sees me. His face turns a shade of red that most definitely does not flatter him, but it makes me all too nervous. He looks from the exam room over to me and he can’t seem to find his words.

  I’m about ready to turn around and run out of the clinic when he lets out a deep sigh and says, “Mikayla, thank God you’re here.”

  Not exactly the reaction I was expecting.

  “I need you to see Jamie.” He shoves her chart at me like it’s on fire. “I do not want to look in between that girl’s legs. Who knows what’s been there.” He laughs, still blushing.

  “She’s a patient?” I ask, still trying to figure out what is happening.

  “Of course she’s a patient,” he says. He looks through the window in the door to see Jamie displaying herself without an ounce of modesty. He looks back at me and quickly adds, “Oh God, you didn’t think . . .” He can’t finish the sentence because he breaks out in hysterics. He puts a hand on my shoulder and bends down because he is laughing so hard he can’t catch a breath.

  He finally looks up at me to see that I don’t particularly find it funny. He says, “You did! You thought we were . . .” Again, he can’t stop laughing and he looks so cute that I can’t help giving into it and I start giggling along with him.

  “Well, what do you expect?” I hit him playfully on his chest. “I mean, she’s in there all sprawled out and you were here, all alone.”

  He stops laughing and puts both hands on my shoulders, looking me directly in the eyes. “Mikayla, don’t you know by now how I feel about you?” He runs a hand down my jaw and cups my chin. “I don’t want Jamie. I don’t want anyone else. I just want you.”

  I melt.

  I’m surprised there is anything left of me but a gooey mess on the floor. The way he’s devouring me with his eyes right now, like I’m the only woman left in the world, has me utilizing all of my self-control so that I don’t jump into his arms. If there weren’t a half-naked woman in the next room, I would drag him in there myself.

  Oh, right . . . there’s a half-naked woman in the next room. I snap out of it.

  “Wait, why is she half-naked and waiting for you in there?”

  He shoves a pair of latex gloves at me. “She’s not waiting for me, she’s waiting for a medical consult. And now that you’re here, you can do it.” He leans against the desk and crosses his arms. “I can’t wait to see the expression on her face when you walk in the room. That girl is seriously horny for me.”

  I try to ignore the fact that he knows Jamie is seriously horny for him, and ask, “What’s her complaint?”

  “Poison Oak,” he says, with a smirk.

  “Poison Oak . . . down there?” My eyes go wide.

  He laughs while nodding at me. “She said she was in the woods and had to take a pee, and well . . . this happened.”

  “You’re kidding,” I say, laughing. “But she is a nurse. She knows how to treat this. Why did she need to come to the clinic?”

  He raises his eyebrows at me.

  “Oh, right,” I say. “Looks like she’s taking a page from the Major Burnell chronicles.”

  I grab the hydrocortisone cream and the antihistamine tablet from where Mitch had set them on the counter. I push the door to the exam room open and Jamie tosses her hair back and plasters on a huge smile.

  Until she sees me.

  Then she closes her legs and quickly wipes the seductive grin off her face. She purses her lips and rolls her eyes at me before saying, “Kay, what are you doing here? Isn’t it your day off?”

  “Yes, it is. But it’s lucky I stopped by so that you didn’t have to have a man examine you. I know how uncomfortable that makes most women.” I have to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from smiling.

  “I’m a nurse, Kay. It doesn’t bother me. If you want him to do it, I’m really okay with that,” she says, hopefully.

  “Well, now that I’m here. I might as well take a look.”

  Jamie jumps off the bed and grabs her panties, pulling them on in a huff. “It’s actually feeling much better. I think I freaked out a little. You don’t have to look at it.”

  “But, what if it’s not Poison Oak? What if it’s something else and you need a shot of antibioti
cs? Why don’t you lie back down and I’ll take a look to be sure.”

  “No, really. I’m okay. I’m pretty sure it’s Poison Oak. I am a nurse, after all,” she spits out at me.

  “I don’t mind.” I pat the bed that she just vacated. “Come on. You took the time to come in and all.” Oh, God, I may be going to hell, but it’s so much fun playing her like this.

  She rolls her eyes at me and shouts, “Kay, just gimmie the damn meds!” She holds out her hands after pulling her jeans on. I try not to look shocked when I see that one of her hands has a rash on it, and that it looks exactly like Poison Oak. She must have deliberately rubbed it on herself just so she could have Mitch see her, uh, goods. It takes every bit of willpower to suppress the laughter that is screaming to burst out of me.

  Who gives herself Poison Oak to get a man’s attention?

  Biting my tongue, I place the pill and the lotion in her hand. Then she turns and stomps out of the clinic as I hear Mitch say, “Bye, Jamie. I hope you feel better.”

  We don’t have much time to laugh about it however, because Tanya Brolin and her son, Timmy, are walking up to the clinic. Or should I say Timmy is dragging his shaking, sweating, belligerent mother in for treatment. I had told Mitch about her when I reviewed patient files with him. She is a raging alcoholic, but every few months, she runs out of liquor and goes through the DTs. Timmy brings her here and stays by her side until the worst is over. He is only eleven years old—too young to have this burden placed upon him, but his father was deployed so it’s just the two of them.

  “Hi, Timmy,” I say, trying to sound cheerful for this distraught child. Mitch picks up an emaciated Tanya and takes her to exam room two. Timmy has grown up far too quickly. Tears roll down his cheeks as he runs down the list of symptoms his mom has. He always waits until she can’t hold anything down before bringing her in because there is only so much we can do here and he knows it.

  We only start the generator for a few minutes to get a baseline EKG. Then we get her hooked up to an IV and push a round of benzodiazepines. She’ll probably stay here overnight, but Timmy will leave in a few hours when she is over the hump. The only time this poor child ever gets a break from his mom is when she’s sobering up here at the clinic. Then the cycle starts all over again as soon as she figures out how to get more liquor, which usually involves sex of some sort. It’s sad. The world may have changed, but people still have the same problems.

  Mitch and I finish setting up Tanya and come out to comfort her son. He looks up at me with big grey eyes that are now red-rimmed, and he silently begs for the one thing that calms him while he’s dealing with this insanity.

  I nod and his lips curve up slightly before he turns to head into his mother’s room. I can hear her yelling obscenities at her son when I go into the back room. Mitch follows me as we continue to discuss her case. His eyes go wide when I pull my cell phone from its hiding place deep in the file cabinet.

  He looks at me in confusion and I say, “Just come.” I take the phone into exam room two and place it into Timmy’s waiting hands. He smiles brightly at me before giving me a hug. Then he looks warily at Mitch so I say, “Don’t worry, he won’t tell.”

  Timmy lets out a relieved breath and gets started paging through the games until he finds his favorite.

  Mitch grabs my elbow and practically drags me out into the reception area. He stares at me in disbelief before saying, “That’s what you use it for?” He shakes his head at himself in disgust. “God, I thought—”

  “I told you not to judge me, Mitch. I did try to explain it to you once, you just wouldn’t let me.”

  “So you don’t use it for yourself?”

  I shake my head. “No, I don’t,” I say with conviction. “Not once. Not ever. I don’t think it’s fair that I would get to use it when so many others can’t.”

  “Your pictures?” he asks.

  “Huh uh, not even those. Scouts honor.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “You were a girl scout?”

  “Actually, no. I don’t do well with large, organized group activities. I tend to prefer the one-on-one kind.” Oh, my God, I’m flirting with him. Badly, I might add.

  His eyes darken and he trails a finger down my arm, raising goose bumps all over my body. “Shit, Mikayla. You can’t say things like that when we’re at work,” he says.

  He shakes his head as if to rid it of all inappropriate thoughts. Then he asks, “How did you come to have a working cell phone? Did you get it from the Faraday cage?”

  “It’s kind of a long story.”

  “Well, how about we have a drink after work and you can tell me all about it. We’ll have an hour to kill before the . . . what are we calling it, anyway? It’s not a celebration.”

  “I’m not sure, a remembrance, maybe? The committee still hasn’t said anything about it. I guess we’ll all find out together. And, yes, a drink would be nice. I have a feeling we’ll all need one.” I lower my eyes to the ground, feeling sad again over the notorious significance this date will always hold.

  Over the next few hours, Mitch and I keep ourselves busy taking turns with Tanya until Nancy comes to relieve us. I stow the cell phone away in its hiding place and we convince Timmy to let us take him to get something to eat before we walk him home.

  When we finally get to Mitch’s apartment, he opens a cabinet revealing his liquor stash, thanks to his new friend, Harley. I silently wonder if he has charmed everyone in camp. We sit at his kitchen table and I tell him about the phone.

  “About six months ago, I was called off base in an emergency. It’s the only time I’ve been outside the perimeter since the blackout. There was a bad accident and a man’s truck had overturned, pinning his wife beneath it. She was losing blood fast and they couldn’t move the truck so they had to bring me on the scene. They wanted to cut her leg off since she was dying and it was the only way to save her. But her husband was hysterical, saying they had to get their son from college and she needed her legs to get there. He begged me over and over to try to save her leg.

  “By some miracle, I was able to stabilize her long enough for them to figure out how to lift the truck off her. Then, fortunately, I was able to save her leg. She had to stay at the clinic for three weeks and she will live with a pretty bad limp for the rest of her life, but she kept the leg and her husband was very grateful.

  “So one day at the clinic, her husband asks me if I have a cell phone. I told him I did, but that it was buried in my closet somewhere. He asked if he could see it for a few days so I gave it to him. After all, what did I need it for? Then, just before he and his wife were going to leave to continue on their journey to find their son at college in Georgia, he pulls me aside and gives it to me, telling me to turn it on. I must have looked at him like he grew a third arm, but I did it anyway. I about fainted when the screen lit up and I saw a picture of my parents on it. I always kept their picture as my background.

  “Turns out this couple had been prepared for this kind of disaster. Doomsday Preppers or something. They had tons of equipment that they had horded away and protected in a hardened bunker. They didn’t have much with them on their journey to get their son, but he did have a microchip for my kind of phone. And he even snuck in back to charge it for me when the generator was running.

  “He told me not to share it with anyone. He said it would cause chaos and everyone would want it for themselves and it would merely end up getting broken. For weeks, I wouldn’t even pull the thing out. I felt guilty even knowing it existed. Then Timmy came in the clinic with his mom. He was hysterical. Tanya was sick and shouting mean things at him, but he refused to leave her side even though it was tearing him apart. So I got out the phone to distract him, and ever since, he gets to play games on it while she goes through withdrawal. It’s our little secret, just Timmy and me . . . well, and now you.”

  My mouth is dry from talking so I take a shot of the horrible swill sitting on the table.

  Mitch kneels on the f
loor in front of my chair and puts his hands on either side of my face, rubbing his thumbs on my cheeks. “You are without a doubt, the most amazing person I have ever met in my entire life, Mikayla Parker.”

  He leans in and kisses me. He kisses me hard. He breathes his staccato words into my mouth between kisses. “I. Can’t. Get. Enough. Of. You.” Our lips explore each other’s necks. Our hands explore each other’s backs. Our eyes devour each other’s bodies.

  We don’t even notice the door opening.

  “Get a fucking room, you two,” Austin says, chuckling. “Actually, don’t. It’s almost time for the . . . what are we calling it?”

  Mitch and I laugh at his words that mirror Mitch’s from this afternoon. Then we all take a shot and head out to attend the event that has yet to be named.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Candlelight service.

  At least now we know what to call it. As our residents crowd into and around the open courtyard in the center of camp, there is a lot of speculation over what is going on. This is by far the largest gathering we’ve had in the year that we’ve all been together.

  To the right of the courtyard, a massive white party tent has been erected, under which are hundreds, maybe thousands of helium balloons in every color imaginable. Next to the tent are dozens of tables that house numerous boxes of candles. Upon closer inspection, I recognize the candles as being similar to the small ones used by my former church on special occasions such as Christmas Eve.

  We find Evan in the crowd and he tells us that over the past month, the supply runs have included stopping at every church and party store they could find to prepare for tonight’s event.

  “But balloons?” someone nearby asks in disgust. “This isn’t a celebration, Evan.”

  Evan puts a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder. “Just wait, George. Claire will explain everything in just a few minutes.”