Dead Lift (21 page)
I raised the knife again but my arm was intercepted in mid-swing. Before I knew what was happening, I was hoisted to the deck and dragged backward through the shattered glass door, then pushed forward across the lobby and outside into the sticky night. Red and blue lights flashed everywhere, spotlighting uniforms and glass, and assaulted my eyes, already stinging from the chlorine. Fire trucks and squad cars lined up for blocks, and someone wrapped a blanket around my wet shoulders. Later, Burke was shoved down the stairs past me, his hands shackled. At the bottom step he looked over his bleeding shoulder and spat words I didn’t understand because, thanks to the fire alarm, I couldn’t hear for shit.
“When can I have my own cell phone?”
Annette and I were huddled on our sofa playing checkers on my new iPhone. Richard, feeling guilty about landing me in the E.R. again, and pitying my misfortune with the cell phone upgrade that wasn’t, had sprung for something…less cheap than I’d have ever picked out for myself.
“Maybe when you’re a teenager,” I said. “What would you do with a phone anyway? You haven’t even started school.”
“I could call my friends.”
I nodded.
“And get you unlost when you drive bad.”
I gave her a wry half-smile and shifted her off my swollen side. The bruises were still morphing through all manner of disgusting shades.
“Also I could take pictures and watch movies.”
I brightened. “We can watch movies on this?”
She nodded and opened her hand. “Let me see it.”
I passed her the phone and watched her tiny fingers tap its screen. She was probably only playing, but I felt marginally concerned that she already knew what she was doing.
It was Sunday evening and I’d been unable to find a dentist to see me on the weekend. My broken tooth was so sensitive to air that I didn’t want to talk much, but that worked out fine because Annette picked up my conversational slack.
The only problem was that she did it all with questions.
“Can I see your stitches again?”
I unwrapped the gauze around my palm. The wound was clean; it had taken five sutures.
“Gross. Does it hurt?”
“Not much anymore.”
“I’m glad you were wearing your helmet.”
Saturday, after dropping Jeannie at the airport, I’d retrieved Annette from the Fletchers. Pressed to explain my pronounced limp and bandaged hand, I told them I’d had a bike wreck. Betsy looked at me sideways but didn’t push.
I kissed the top of Annette’s head and pulled the gauze back into place. She raised my good hand to her little mouth and kissed it. “Maybe you should stick with running.”
I had Jeannie and her nosey snooping to thank for my aquatic rescue. She’d used my laptop Friday night to print Saturday’s boarding pass and, as usual, the browser opened up my webmail application by default. Seeing the note from Diana in there, she read it and then mentioned my impromptu meeting with Diana to Richard when he stopped by with a check to reimburse her Tone Zone fees. But Richard had just left Diana at Mick Young’s office, where she’d shared her story about Platt and the reason she’d slipped me his key. Richard put together that Burke had staged another bogus e-mail. He tried to call and stop me from going to the club, but we figured out that, by that time, I’d already jumped the upstairs track railing and lost my phone. When he didn’t reach me, he’d sent the police.
“Hey,” Annette said. “Why are your eyes closed? It’s not dark yet.”
I opened them, unsure whether I’d zoned out for seconds or minutes. She’d started a new game of cell phone checkers.
“Tired, sweetie. Little bit of a headache.”
Annette’s bedtime wasn’t for another hour, but I could have easily called it a day right then.
She regarded me. “What’s a headache?”
I searched for a parallel she’d understand. “Like a belly ache, in your head.”
She giggled. “You’re messing with me.”
“It’s a throbbing, hurting feeling behind my eyes.”
She frowned a little and I wished I’d lied.
“Hm.” A soft, tiny hand smoothed back my hair. “Maybe one of your thoughts went down the wrong pipe.”
I laughed. A wave of cool air rushed over my tooth and made me wish I were dead. Only, not really, because I was totally and completely in love with my child.
“You know, I met a new friend this week,” I told her. “His name is William. He’s unusual because his body is old but his mind seems very young.”
“Like my mind?”
I nodded. “He’s lonely. I thought we could visit him when I’m feeling better.”
“Does he like Legos?”
“I don’t know him well enough to say.”
“Why do you want to be his friend?”
Her question stopped me. Like William, I realized, I still felt in many ways alone, kind of on the outskirts of normalcy, and was unsure how to make life go forward smoothly. That part of him resonated with me.
Annette waited. I knew I’d never find the words to explain what I was thinking, so I changed the subject.
“Hey, let me get your opinion about something. Vince invited us to take a trip with him before you start school next month. He thought maybe you’d like to visit Sea World.”
“What’s that?”
“A giant park with whales and dolphins and lots of fish and things that live in the ocean.”
“Octopuses?”
“Probably.”
“Sting rays?”
“Yeah.”
“Tuna?”
“Anyway.” I sighed. “How does that sound?”
She shrugged. “I’d rather go with just you.”
I pulled her close and squeezed, thankful and happy in our moment, and privately celebrated the best No I’d ever heard.
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