It's the End of the World as I Know It

by Matthew Landis

  “What?”

  Claudia pulls the covers down so I can see my left leg. It’s wrapped in gauze from ankle to knee. “Second-degree burns, almost third they said. Plus your hand.”

  I look at the white cast that goes halfway up my right arm. “I thought it was maybe broken.”

  Claudia reaches over and rotates the cast. Somebody scrawled a message in big black marker that says This arm pushed the earth out of orbit.

  “Brock said you’d get it,” she says.

  Brock.

  Tommy.

  “Pete,” I say. “Oh no.”

  “You may not bring that snake in here,” Nurse Mary barks outside the room. “It’s too big.”

  But Tommy is already in the room, a giant green stuffed animal snake coiled around his body. Brock is right behind him. They both crash into my bed for this group hug and Tommy says, “You saved him.”

  “I what?”

  “Witness me witnessing your genius,” Brock says. “Vacuum-sealing a snake inside a fireproof crapper with just enough oxygen so he doesn’t suffocate and just enough urine so he doesn’t dry out.”

  I just stare. “Guys.”

  “I can’t believe you, like, picked him up,” Tommy says. “Even I’m scared to do that.”

  Then I start laughing. It hurts my lungs so bad, but I can’t stop. It turns to coughing and Nurse Mary comes in to check on me, but I wave her off. “Oh man,” I say, wiping my eyes. “Oh man.”

  I tell them the story. They go insane all over again. Brock makes me reenact it using the stuffed snake and Claudia laughs so hard she almost passes out. Nurse Mary keeps coming in and telling everybody to keep it down because Derrick needs to rest. They say sorry and pull chairs up to the bed. Claudia sits on the window ledge and takes a couple pictures of us with her phone.

  “We tried to come yesterday,” Tommy says. “They wouldn’t let us.”

  “Yesterday.” I look around for my watch but can’t find it. “Wait, what day is it?”

  “It’s Saturday afternoon, Dee,” Claudia says.

  Saturday.

  I swallow real hard and wait for the buzzing in my hands to get going.

  But it doesn’t.

  “It didn’t blow,” I say.

  Tommy shakes his head.

  “So we’re okay. We’re good.”

  “We’re good,” Claudia says.

  “But a couple of Yellowstone campers are not okay,” Brock says. “They fell into a hot spring and had to get airlifted to a hospital.”

  “Hmm,” I say.

  Tommy leans in close. I almost hug him. “It’s, like, kind of funny what happened: You were worried about a fire really far away, but then you burned your shed down.”

  “You were supposed to wait on that joke,” Brock tells him.

  “Guys.” My throat is all tight. “Thanks. For coming to get me.”

  Tommy wraps me up in a snake hug. “You’re back.”

  I hug him hard and say, “Yeah.”

  2

  Nurse Susan, who’s younger and funnier than Nurse Mary, wakes me up for dinner. I inhale hospital meat loaf, which is pretty good after those MREs. Tommy’s mom trades places with Claudia, who goes home to shower and change. There’s a TV with all the channels and I find ESPN3, but instead of watching Norwegian dudes flipping monster truck tires I just stare out the window.

  I made it past The End.

  I survived.

  But not really.

  I was saved—my dad saved me. Sort of a big difference.

  Nurse Susan changes my leg bandage, which hurts like crazy, and then helps me walk to the bathroom. I sit down, but she doesn’t leave.

  “I’m good,” I say.

  “Not if you faint and crack your head,” she says. “I might just leave you on the floor if that happens. Less paperwork.”

  When I’m done, I try to stand up, but things get all woozy. She grabs me under the arm and lowers me back down. “Your body’s been through a lot. Give it a second.”

  I take a couple deep breaths. She’s watching me really close, her face like I’ve got a secret. “What?”

  “Your friends didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “We’ve had at least five reporters show up,” she says. “One tried to sneak in, said he was your cousin.”

  “Why? Am I in trouble?”

  “No—I don’t think so.”

  “What did they want?”

  “Wanted to talk to you about your dad. For saving you and that girl.”

  My eyes burn again. “Oh man.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head. Hold up my cast. “I got this because I punched him so hard I broke my hand. And then he saves me. Like”—and I’m totally crying now, on a toilet, with a stranger, still sort of woozy—“what kind of person does that? Goes into a burning shed for somebody who did that to them?”

  She sort of laughs and says, “A parent. That’s who.”

  “You don’t know the rest. I’ve been the worst—the actual worst. I don’t think you can even understand. I’ve been a Real Jerk, one hundred and ten percent Jerk Material. If you googled Jerk Face, you’d find books about me.”

  She hands me some toilet paper to wipe my face. “My oldest son totaled my car because he was texting. Cost me fifteen thousand dollars.”

  “Did you forgive him?”

  “Of course.”

  “Like, did you really?”

  “He’s my son,” she says, and I think about my dad, screaming at me from outside the shed, fire raging at my back. Him realizing there’s only one way I get out.

  Son.

  Son.

  Son.

  If he jumps into the flames.

  Right to the edge of The End.

  “Maybe we could get a wheelchair,” I say.

  3

  I’m staring at his eHarmony girlfriend.

  She doesn’t look so mean now, up close. She looks like a regular lady: red hair. Tallish. Younger than my mom, I think. She’s reading a book, sitting next to his hospital bed.

  “What’s her name again?” I whisper.

  “Ellen,” Nurse Susan says.

  “Okay.”

  She wheels me in. Ellen gets up from the chair and walks toward me. Stops a couple feet away. “Derrick. How are you feeling?”

  “Okay.”

  “We just came up to see Luke,” Nurse Susan says.

  “They took him to run another test,” Ellen says. “He should be done soon.”

  “We can come back,” I say, but Susan just leaves me. I fidget in the wheelchair and Ellen stands there. There’s beeping coming from the other guy’s bed near the door, but he’s sleeping.

  Finally she says, “I’m so sorry, Derrick.”

  “Yeah.” Then I ask, “For what?”

  “That you had to find out about me like you did.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “Your dad was waiting to introduce me to you and Claudia until he was sure it was serious, I think.”

  I fidget some more. “So is it?”

  She looks around the hospital room. “Feels pretty serious to me.”

  Hmm. She’s kinda funny. “I thought he was dating a bunch of women.”

  She laughs, and it’s sort of relaxing. Her eyes are all lit up and I keep thinking, I’m talking to the lady who is trying to take Her place.

  “I’m fairly certain he’s not,” she says.

  “Hmm.” It’s awkward again. “So do you work with him or something?”

  “No. I sell houses.”

  “You’re a realtor,” I say, and think of a joke from before. Something She used to say.

  “I know. Your mom thought we were a bunch of scam artists.”

/>   “Yeah.”

  “Your dad told me that on our second date.”

  I pick at the edges of the super-thin gown they gave me. “You don’t have any kids, do you? That would be weird, I think.”

  She laughs again. “Sorry. I have a five-year-old son. But he’s not too weird.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Max.”

  “Hmm.”

  “We named him after his dad,” Ellen says, and just in the tone I can feel It—like when Claudia talks about Her. “He died in a car accident when Max was two.”

  “Oh,” I say. “That sucks.”

  “Yeah. It does.” She looks behind me at something and says, “But the thing about life is, it keeps moving. And it’s crammed with surprises.”

  There’s a noise behind us and a new nurse says, “And who’s this?”

  Ellen turns my chair around to face my dad. He says, “Bonnie, this is my son, Derrick.”

  I wave at her, and she gives me a face like Oh, so you’re the famous Derrick. She checks a couple of things on her chart and then says, “If I leave you two alone, are you going to fight?”

  I shake my head. Look at the floor. She and Ellen go outside, so it’s just me and my dad, our wheelchairs a couple feet apart.

  “How’s your leg?” my dad asks.

  “Okay, I think. I’m on some medicine, but it hurts pretty bad.”

  “And your hand?”

  “It’s okay.”

  I’m having a hard time looking at him because his banged-up face makes me feel horrible. I keep flicking my eyes to him, and then to the ground, and then to his leg—bandaged from the ankle up like he fought some barbed wire. Parts of his arms are wrapped up too.

  I slump in the wheelchair and cover my face with my hands. I see his wheels rolling up next to me. Our chairs bump against each other and then he’s awkwardly side hugging me, and I’m leaning into his giant arms, sobbing like a little kid.

  “Dad,” I say, but it’s all messed up and slobbery. “Dad.”

  He pulls me closer with both hands. I stay like that for a while, trying to get in an I’m sorry and he says It’s okay and I realize that this is the first time since It happened that we’ve hugged. I wonder if he missed it, which is something you don’t think about with your dad. But I think maybe he did miss it, and I did too—missed it more than I could know until actually doing it again.

  I wipe my face and say, “Ellen seems pretty nice.”

  “Yeah. She is.”

  “You know she’s a realtor, right?”

  We share a grin, but he’s frowning now. “Derrick. I should have told you.”

  “No—I’m sorry. The hitting and stuff. And for all the other stuff.” I clear my throat, giving the eye-burning a second to go away. “Dad—I just really, like I was so mad at you for going out with those women, and then when I saw you with her, I just like . . . exploded because it was at Mom’s favorite place and—”

  “I know. I know.” He shakes his head. “I wanted to tell you, but—I just didn’t want to make things worse for you. And I was still figuring it out myself.”

  “Yeah.”

  We sit in silence for a little while. Nurse Bonnie comes in and checks on the guy in the other bed, then leaves.

  “So you met her online,” I say, “eHarmony or something.”

  “I was on those sites for a while. Went on a few dates.” He shrugs. “Didn’t work.”

  “Hmm.”

  He sits up, and his face brightens like he’s talking about something epic. “Your mom . . . She was incredible. It wasn’t even about the other women, Derrick—I’m sure they were all perfectly nice. It’s what they weren’t.” He’s gripping my arm now with his giant hand, and I put my casted hand over it, because he’s about to get there—to the thing I’ve been dying to hear. “There’s not another version of Her out there.”

  I sniffle. “Like I thought maybe you wanted to forget about Her. I thought you were just leaving Her back there.”

  “Impossible. And also the problem.” His shoulders sag. “I gave up all that Internet stuff and started going to a grief support group. Other guys who lost close family.”

  “What? When?”

  “At night, after dinner.”

  “Hmm. I thought you were going on dates.”

  He laughs. “Not usually. But I did meet Ellen through one of the guys in the group.”

  That makes sense. “She told me about her husband.”

  “She tell you about Max?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’ve only met him twice; Ellen is very protective of men entering his life.” He looks at me, his face like I am so sorry. “This is not how you should’ve found out. I messed this up, bad. I messed up in a lot of ways.”

  “It’s okay.” I’m starting to get really tired, probably totally dehydrated from all the crying. “Dad.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stuff has been, um—things have been weird, like in my head. Stuff about Mom.”

  And then I tell him what I remembered about That Day. I let it out in stutters and it’s easier the second time. Telling it again is like reopening that valve and even more pressure comes off my chest and it’s incredible. Probably Dr. Mike would pay big bucks to just watch this go down, but too bad, because this isn’t for him—it’s for me. For my dad, and Claudia. For Brock and Tommy and Misty.

  And Her.

  Dr. Laura Waters.

  Major, United States Air Force.

  Mom.

  1

  “Red means I love you,” Tommy says.

  I scan the other flower options inside the little produce shop. “What color is just friends? But could also say Sorry I almost burnt you alive?”

  “Witness you being funny again.” Brock picks out a bunch of white flowers. “This is what you want.”

  “I don’t even know if she likes flowers,” I say.

  “She’ll like your other gift more. So, like, it’s fine,” Tommy says.

  Claudia honks the horn outside and we hustle to the counter and pay.

  “I could pick out a prom dress faster than you ladies in there,” she says when we climb back in the Subaru.

  “Yeah,” I say. “But you’d be sitting at home in it because nobody wants to go with you.”

  “Boom, roasted,” Brock says. He fist-bumps with Tommy. “He is so back.”

  There’s a ton of random traffic getting into the city, so we don’t get to Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia until five. Claudia parks, and we go through some crazy security to get inside the building. I lead the way to the elevators, basically speed-walking, flowers in one hand and a gift-wrapped rectangular box under my arm. We get off at the seventh floor and I slide around a corner, checking directions, and then running back when I make a wrong turn. My heart is racing and the flowers are bouncing and I can feel butterflies doing great epic battle in my gut.

  “That’s it,” I say, pointing to a sign that says PEDIATRIC ICU.

  I go to a big check-in desk. This real serious guy behind a computer watches us all run up and says, “There is no running on this floor.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “We’re here to see Misty Knoll.”

  He types some stuff on his computer.

  “Who?”

  “Mercedes Knoll.”

  He squints at the screen. “I have a Mercedes Knoll here, yes. Room fifteen.”

  “Great.”

  “Please do not run,” he says, but all of us are already running.

  The door for Room 15 is open and sun is shining through it from some big window and now it hits me that for all my flowers and presents and racing to get here, I’m not sure what I’m going to say. I sort of slide to a stop, and my sandal gets caught on my foot and I bang into the door frame with my burnt leg.
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br />   “Ah,” I say, and inside the room Brynn looks up. I can only see Misty’s lower half under a blanket on the bed. I back away.

  Tommy and Brock rush past me, waving big signs that say SHE ALMOST DIED (AGAIN) BUT NOW IS TOTALLY FINE (AGAIN). I stand just outside the doorway, shifting back and forth, ignoring the burning leg and realizing that I might actually puke from nervousness.

  “You got this,” Claudia whispers behind me.

  “What if she doesn’t want me here? What if she doesn’t want to be friends because of—you know.”

  “That might happen.” Claudia pushes me forward a little. “But maybe not.”

  I go in the room. Misty looks thinner and whiter-faced than usual, but pretty healthy. Her wavy ponytail is slung over one shoulder and she’s smiling as Brock and Tommy act out their version of Pete almost eating us alive. She sees me and the smile turns into the Stare. I look at the floor. It’s really quiet and awkward. I walk to the side of her bed holding out the white flowers and she takes them, smells them, then plays with the plastic wrapping.

  Tommy says, “White is, like, the friend color.”

  Brock shoves him. Misty smells them again. It’s like a year goes by before she says, “I hate—” but then she coughs, and Brynn hands her a cup of water. My stomach is churning and I start to back up, but Claudia pushes me forward.

  “I hate the food here,” Misty says. “Did you bring anything?”

  Claudia hands her a plastic bag with a couple of those foam takeout containers. “Derrick’s treat.”

  She smiles and pulls one out and starts inhaling the tacos I got her. She keeps looking at me real quick and I keep looking at the floor, and it’s getting pretty obvious that I’m the one making this all super-uncomfortable.

  “They said I can go home soon,” Misty says.

  “Sunday,” Brynn tells us. “Doctors just want to make sure all is good.”

  “How’s your dad?” Misty asks Claudia.

  “All stitched up. Almost back at work.”

  “I was hoping he’d come with you so I could thank him.”

  “You mean,” Brock says, pulling up something on his phone, “so you could take a selfie with local hero Luke Waters?”

  Everybody laughs as he waves around the headline Superhuman Dad Rescues Teens. It’s got a picture of my dad from high school when he kind of looked like Clark Kent, which probably helped the story go viral. There was still a camera guy trolling our street when we left for school this morning.