by Alana Terry
Kennedy nearly lost her balance. “I just want to ...”
He clenched his teeth. “Get back.”
She didn’t argue, and she didn’t resist when Ian tucked an arm around her waist and led her to his car. “You can rest here until the paramedics come.”
Kennedy winced as he eased her down into the driver’s seat. “What’s wrong with him?” She hadn’t been asking about Reuben’s injuries so much as his attitude.
Before Ian could answer, a whining ambulance sped toward them and parked. The onlookers dispersed, and three paramedics jumped out the back. Ian pointed at Reuben. “Check him out first.”
Kennedy let out her breath and allowed her body to relax a little. Reuben would get the medical attention he needed. Everything would be fine now.
Or would it?
She recalled the cop’s roaming hands on her body. She had never felt so violated. Her ears rang with the echoes of his curses and slurs. If she didn’t have the entire encounter recorded, she wouldn’t believe half of it.
The recording. She reached for her phone in her blouse pocket. The screen blinked with a message. Memory full. Video failed to record.
“Everything ok?” Ian asked.
No, it wasn’t. After everything they had endured, all the indignity, all the shame, now there wasn’t any proof. Memory full? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to cry or throw her phone in front of the oncoming traffic.
But maybe it wasn’t that bad. Arlington was as crowded as the courtyards of Willie Wonka’s chocolate factory the day he reopened his doors. Somebody would have seen. Several somebodies. They could corroborate Kennedy’s story.
The cop was long gone. He must had driven off like a coward, leaving Kennedy and Reuben to heal from their injuries. She didn’t know his name, but with enough witnesses and police logs, they’d find him.
Right?
She stared at the phone in her lap. Betrayed by a stupid piece of technology. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. She should have never been pulled over in the first place. And now Reuben ...
“You sure he’s going to be all right?” she asked.
Ian’s eyes were soft. Like Charlotte’s after Wilbur the pig discovered why the farmer was fattening him up. “I’m sure the paramedics will fill you in soon, but I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”
Kennedy glanced over. The ambulance crew was lifting Reuben onto a gurney.
“I should see if he’s ok.”
Ian extended his hand. “Want help?”
“No.” She winced as she stood up and decided she’d take some Tylenol if the paramedics had any to offer, but otherwise she’d rather have them focus on helping Reuben. She kept her eyes off the puddle of his blood on the cement.
She walked to the side of Reuben’s stretcher and took his hand. “Are you ok?”
He pulled away. What was wrong? Did he think this whole thing was her fault? Did he blame her for taking him out in her roommate’s car? She had done what she could to stand up for him. His silent treatment bored holes into her chest the size of test tube stoppers.
She stepped aside to let a member of the ambulance crew by. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
The paramedic didn’t pause to look at her. “He’ll be fine. We’re taking him in to Providence now.” He hoisted himself into the ambulance.
“Are you the girl who was with him?” his co-worker asked. “You really should let us check you out before you start walking around.”
“I’m fine,” Kennedy insisted. “I just want to make sure he’s ok.”
“We’re taking him in right now. You’re welcome to follow and meet us at Providence if you’d like.”
Reuben shook his head. “Just go home. Don’t worry about me.”
Did he know what he was saying? Was this the kind of brain injury that could alter personalities? Why was he acting this way?
“I’d like to stick around.” She wanted to find a discreet way to tell him her dad would probably pay for his medical bills if he was worried about money. All Kennedy had to do was ask.
Reuben jerked his shoulder away when she touched him. “Go home. I’ll text you when I get back to campus.”
A lump the size of the BFG’s big toe had settled at the top of her larynx. “You sure? I don’t mind ...”
He scowled. “Just leave me alone.”
One of the paramedics shot Kennedy a sympathetic glance. Kennedy stepped aside so they could lift the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. She crossed her arms and watched, expecting any moment for Reuben to change his mind and call her to him. Apologize for his behavior. All she heard was the chatter of the crew as they prepared him for transport.
She was still standing in the same spot when they pulled away. They didn’t put on their sirens, which was a good sign. Reuben’s injuries couldn’t be that serious. So why had he acted so strangely?
It was cold. The wind always seemed fiercest around this part of town anyway.
“Hey, you need a lift or anything?”
Surprised by the voice, Kennedy turned to face Ian. She had forgotten the journalist was there. He was the only one left. Everyone else had gone. All those potential witnesses ...
“Can I drive you someplace?”
She cringed when he touched her shoulder. She shook her head. All she wanted now was to be alone.
“No, thanks.” She tried to force a smile to compensate for the shortness in her voice.
“You sure?”
She gave him one more quick glance and nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.”
He followed her to Willow’s car and leaned down once she was in the driver’s seat. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Kennedy buckled her seatbelt and stared at the empty pavement.
Ian sighed. “I’ve had experience with this sort of thing. It can get complicated. So just let me know if you need me.”
Kennedy turned the key in the ignition. “As a member of the press?”
He shrugged. “Or as a listening ear. It’s up to you.” He passed her a business card. Until then, she hadn’t realized anyone younger than her dad still carried those things around.
“Thanks.” Kennedy hoped he didn’t take her brusque departure too personally. She shut the door and managed to drive about a mile and a half before she pulled over into a gas station, where she tried to wash away her fears and frustrations with a series of choking, heaving sobs.
CHAPTER 3
“NO, HE NEVER TOLD US his name.” Kennedy was still parked in front of the gas station where she had finally decided to call her parents in Yanji.
“Well, I’m sorry,” she replied to her dad’s reprimand. “It’s not like I wake up every day and tell myself to ask for the name of every single cop who pulls me over and starts kicking my friend on the side of the road.”
She could hear her mom sigh on the other end of the line. “You know you’re going to have to report this, don’t you?”
Kennedy’s stomach was twisting and twirling like a double helix. “How can I do that if I don’t even know the guy’s name?”
“They have records of their traffic stops, sweetie. All you have to do is tell the police department where you were and what time it was when you got pulled over.”
Kennedy didn’t try to keep the sarcastic barbs out of her tone. “And then he can say it wasn’t him and make me and Reuben out to be liars.” In spite of all her arguments, she knew her mom was right. She’d have to file a report, but she didn’t even know how to begin. Was she just supposed to waltz into the station and ask to speak to the cop in charge of complaints?
“But his superiors will have the record of him pulling you over,” Kennedy’s mom insisted, “and you’ll have the paramedic workers there to verify that’s where your friend was injured. That’s evidence enough in anybody’s book.”
Her father cleared his throat. “Not if the officer failed to call in before he stopped. That would explain why there wasn’t any backup. Cops do it
all the time, pull someone over and unless they write a ticket, there’s no paper trail, no proof whatsoever.”
“But she can’t just go on as if none of this ever happened ...” Her parents went back and forth, but their voices were too low for Kennedy to hear most of their bickering.
“All right,” her dad finally said, “here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to call my friend’s son Taylor. He’s a state trooper out somewhere in Alaska, but before that he was on the police force in Waltham. I’ll get in touch with Taylor, run everything by him, ask what he thinks you should do. Sometimes these cops, they got this unwritten code. Work together to keep each other out of trouble, make a big mess for anyone who challenges the status quo.”
So much for his policemen are our friends mantra.
“But what about Reuben?” Kennedy noticed the whine in her voice but couldn’t control it. “He hurt him really bad. By the time I realized what was going on, the cop was already gone, and Reuben was on the ground, and ...”
“You said he’s at the hospital, right?” her dad asked. “I’m sure they’ll have the police meet him there so he can give his story. And the paramedics said he was going to be fine. You’ll just have to take their word for it.”
But he didn’t even want to talk to me. Kennedy kept the thought to herself. Some things were too painful to speak out loud. Why did her parents have to live so far away?
“Listen,” Kennedy’s mom inserted, “are you busy tonight? Do you have any homework you need to get done by tomorrow?”
“No. Reuben and I were going to see Aida. We got the tickets two months ago ...” She cut herself off before her voice betrayed her.
“Ok then,” said her mom. “Here’s what I want you to do. I want you to drive yourself over to Carl and Sandy’s. I was emailing Sandy just a second ago while you were talking with your father. She’s already expecting you. I want you to go to Sandy’s, take a nice hot shower, do something to relax. Then tomorrow, after your father talks with this trooper guy and gets his opinion, we’ll call you back and make some decisions. For now, you just get the rest you need and try not to worry.”
Oh yeah. Not worry. That was so like her mom. Here dear, eat a cookie and all your troubles will vanish.
“You ok, Kensie girl?” her dad asked.
Kennedy shut her eyes and let out her breath. “Yeah,” she lied.
“Oh,” her mom piped, “I just heard back from Sandy. She wants to know do you want her to come pick you up?”
“I don’t know. I need to get Willow her car back.”
“Are you well enough to drive safely?” her dad asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then go over to Carl and Sandy’s now and take the car back with you to campus later on. Ok?”
When she lived at home, she hated the way her dad had so many rules, so many protocols for everything, but now it was nice to have a simple plan to follow. Why had she spent so much energy in high school complaining about her family?
She spent a few extra minutes convincing her mother she was really ok before telling her parents good night and hanging up. She thought about sending Reuben a text but decided against it.
Get herself to Carl and Sandy’s. If there was anyone in the Boston-Cambridge area who knew how to pamper her, it was her pastor’s family. A night sipping tea with Sandy or listening to Carl’s booming preacher’s voice impart some wisdom or inspiration was just what she needed.
She took a deep breath and reminded herself that after everything she’d been through tonight, she should be proud she hadn’t had a single panic attack. She sped up before merging onto the freeway on her way to the Lindgrens’.
CHAPTER 4
EVERY TIME KENNEDY glanced at the car’s clock, she regretted she wasn’t at Aida with Reuben. Would they be into the second act by now? She didn’t know a whole lot about the Elton John show. She just knew she liked the music samples she’d heard online and it boasted rave reviews and several Tony awards.
Tonight was supposed to be something special, something she and Reuben could look back on and remember for years to come.
What had happened?
She’d dissected every second, from the moment they got into Willow’s car until the ambulance drove him away. What had gone wrong?
He had wanted to tell her something, and in her childishness, she’d dared to hope it had to do with their relationship. Had to do with his feelings for her. Part of her would be happy keeping things as they were. She and Reuben worked so well together, and if they started to actually date, there was always the chance of ruining a perfect friendship. But then again, what if they could go even deeper, enjoy each other’s company even more fully? It was worth the risk, wasn’t it? She thought about the line in The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis. “Further up and further in.” The representation of exponential improvement. An eternity of ever-increasing joys that carried you closer and closer to infinity, just like an asymptote.
All of her musings were pointless, however. Whatever it was, something had turned Reuben against her. He had done so much for her last semester, helped her through so many trying ordeals. Why would he shut her out now?
She wasn’t paying attention to where she was driving and realized she had missed her turn. If she kept going this way, she’d end up at Providence Hospital.
Providence Hospital.
She weighed her options. She could drown her sorrow and confusion over tea and Sandy’s homemade desserts, or she could actually talk to Reuben.
She stayed on the freeway.
When she pulled up at the hospital, her muscles were as tight and wound up as a spring scale. She texted the Lindgrens to cancel their plans and practiced a few of her deep breaths before getting out of the car. She could do this. If she could handle twenty-two Harvard credits and maintain a 3.9 GPA, she could walk into a hospital and offer her friend the emotional support he needed.
The wind had picked up. She clutched her light coat against her chest as her hair whipped across her face. Sometime during her scuffle with the cop, she had lost her barrette. She sighed and tried to envision herself exhaling all her disappointment and anger like those breathing gurus suggested.
It didn’t work.
As soon as she stepped inside Providence, she realized she had no idea how to find Reuben. She walked up to the information desk. “Hi, I’m looking for my friend. He came here by ambulance about half an hour ago.”
The man behind the booth didn’t smile. “Name?”
“Reuben Murunga.” She spelled it for him as he typed on his keyboard.
“Looks like they have him in the ER. Do you know the way?”
She didn’t answer. Her steps grew slower the closer she got to the emergency room. What was she doing here? Weren’t there all kinds of patient privacy laws that would keep her from seeing Reuben, or was that just in movies and TV shows?
When she reached the ER, she wasn’t sure who she should talk to, so she rooted herself in line behind a harried mother bouncing a crying baby and a middle-aged man with his arm in a sling. When it was Kennedy’s turn, she walked up to the glass partition and explained into the microphone why she had come.
“Let me ask if he’s accepting visitors. What’s your name?”
“Kennedy Stern.”
The triage nurse picked up the phone, but Kennedy couldn’t hear the conversation through the partition. The woman hung up and pointed to some empty chairs. “Have a seat. Someone will be out to talk with you shortly.”
Kennedy stared for just a moment in hopes of reading the woman’s expression. Why would they send someone to talk to her? It seemed like they would either let Kennedy see Reuben or not. Why all the extra meetings and waiting? Did she have to prove she knew him or something?
She sat in a chair and glanced at a young man whose arm was draped around his wife or girlfriend. Kennedy couldn’t see her face but could read the sorrow in her posture. The man kept his whole body hunched over as if he wanted to shield he
r from the world. Fear and grief were written on his face as clearly as the colored pigments on chromatography paper. After a perfectly still moment, he took his finger and lifted some stray hair off the woman’s forehead.
Kennedy pried her eyes away from the private scene and glanced at the other faces, the others here waiting. Sometimes it was hard to tell who was here for medical treatment and who had come to offer support. She was one of the only people there by herself.
“Miss Stern.” The title sounded foreign. Kennedy glanced up, half expecting to see a nurse ready to escort someone much older into the back rooms. But the man looking directly at her wasn’t a nurse.
She stared at the uniformed police officer and wasn’t sure if she should stand and go with him or try to run away. Was this what her dad warned her about? Was the cop going to accuse her of drug possession and drag her off to jail?
She glanced around. Several eyes were on her. What did these people think she’d done? There wasn’t anywhere she could go.
“You Kennedy Stern?” he asked, and she wondered why he didn’t keep his voice down. What happened to confidentiality laws?
She nodded.
He held a door open. “Will you please come with me?”
The hallway branched off in one direction and then another. Kennedy was lost within her first few turns following him. Each corridor looked the same, each hall so brightly lit she had to squint to keep the light from bouncing off all the bleached white walls and blinding her. Why was she here? What was the cop doing? She’d had enough of policemen for the night.
Maybe for an entire lifetime.
He was silent as he led her down the serpentine corridor, past rows of patient rooms, past vending machines stuffed with high fructose corn syrup, caffeine, and a whole arsenal of artificial ingredients. Her headache had returned with increased fury. Where was Reuben?
The cop opened an unmarked door and held it open. “Right in here, please.”
She glanced at his face as she entered the room. Late twenties, maybe, or early thirties. A short, well-kept beard covered his chin, with tinges of copper highlighting the dirty blond. Grayish eyes that were watching her every move. She wanted to hide.