Dying to Forget (12 page)

Step-Dad is nodding. “I know, son. I know. We both miss him.”

We spend the rest of the day with Step-Dad. He has a flight to catch late in the evening and the goodbyes are hard for everyone. I’m sure Sloan’s tight hugs are going to leave wrinkles in Step-Dad’s light-blue linen shirt. I’ve never seen Sloan affectionate like this. I can tell that their relationship was a good one, before Mick’s death.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Me too,” Step-Dad replies softly.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come visit, you know…later?” Sloan is referring to the upcoming hospital stay and Step-Dad nods stubbornly.

“No. You stay here, live your life and live it well. I want us both to remember today, not the last few years, or me wasting away to nothing. Okay?”

Sloan nods, smiling weakly. This is closure for him and even though he's hurting – and hurting badly, I think he will be okay. We ride across town in a cab and Step-Dad drops us off in front of Sloan’s apartment. While the driver hops out of the front seat to pull the bike from the trunk, the clouds part slightly from the sky and dewy sun-rays pour onto the sidewalk. Step-Dad climbs out of the car behind Sloan and gives him another big hug. Both are struggling not to cry as Step-Dad slides into the backseat once again and Sloan carefully closes the door behind him.

We wait on the curb with Sloan's bike resting against his thigh as the cab pulls away and heads down the street, toward the airport.

What a day, huh?

***

He doesn’t make it to bed until after midnight. For the first time in weeks I had to nag him to brush his teeth and take his vitamins. He placed his cell phone on the bedside table, ignoring the blinking message light. I know he’s concerned about talking to Sandy and we both think it’s her who has left a message but he’s not ready to call her back. Not yet.

Their first kiss was a few days ago and it turned into a full on hands-beneath-the-clothes make-out session. I willed myself to block it out but without my own hands to cover my eyes, I saw it all. Or at least what Sloan saw, which was pretty much everything. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the feeling of being trapped inside someone during intimate moments.
So gross.

I spend the night talking to Sloan about the gun. It’s time for him to get rid of it. He hasn’t even thought about it for some time, which is great. But I can’t stop focusing on it – not until it’s gone. I feel like it might be the only real threat left for him. I spend hours delving into his sub-conscious, planting seeds, laying out scenarios, removing self-doubt and fear, until I’m actually exhausted. By the time I feel the sun behind his closed eyes, I feel like I could drift away into a deep sleep myself.
Don’t I wish. I could really use a nap.

When he wakes, his first thought is of one I planted. He squirms uncomfortably under the covers until he’s flat on his back, with an arm tucked under his head, beneath the pillow. I feel a smile spread across his face and wish that he was looking into the mirror so I could enjoy the display of happiness that makes his already attractive features spectacular.

Remember that time when you were fourteen and you took Mick to the park to play catch? The sun was up high and the breeze that flowed through the trees made the park seem alive. It smelled like fresh-cut grass and wildflowers. You were there for so long that your parents came looking for you, thinking something bad had happened. You saw them before Mick did, so you told him to run long and threw the ball directly at your dad. You didn’t think that Mick would actually catch it, being as uncoordinated as he was, but he did. His gloved hand closed around the ball perfectly and he jumped up and down with joy. When he realized your parents were just behind him and had seen his catch, it was all he talked about for weeks. It was one of your favorite memories with him, remember? You still have that glove and ball.

Sloan rose from under the covers and went straight to the closet, bypassing his usual morning routine of spending eons draining his bladder and dragging his long fingers through his hair till his scalp tingled. He rifled around until he found the old cardboard box and pulled it out, carrying the sacred relic back to his unmade bed. He stared at it for a moment before gently lifting the top off.

He let his hands touch the insides carefully before pulling out the glove and baseball. He rolled the old ball around in his hands, feeling the slight bumps of the worn dark-red thread beneath his skin. The white of the ball was scuffed green from their many toss excursions at the park. Mick didn’t actually catch the ball all that often…except for that day.

“I remember,” Sloan says softly and raises the glove to his face. He deeply inhales the smell of it before turning it over to caress Mick’s faded signature in black marker. “I will always remember you, Micky.”

***

After his morning run he showers and brushes his teeth. He’s made a fruit salad…one of his favorite breakfasts now, and mixed it into a cup of cottage cheese. He remembers he has a message waiting for him on his phone, so retrieves it from his bedroom and we sit down on the couch to listen to his voicemail.

“Hi Sloan, it’s Sandy. Just hoping you have a wonderful day today at work! Oh, by the way, your dad came by and I sent him your way…hope that was okay. Call me later, maybe we can do dinner? Bye!”

“Crap!” Sloan mutters.

Oops. Well, you’ll have to do dinner with the ‘girlfriend’ another time.

I can tell he is upset but I think it’s rather funny. It won’t hurt her to have to wait a bit before seeing him again. I listen as the next message starts.

“Hi, I’m calling for Sloan Nash. This is Gladys, Dr. Perry’s nurse. I have more tests results to discuss with you. Could you please give us a call when you get this message? Thank you…here is our number again…”.

Sloan deletes the message before listening to the number. I assume he has it. He doesn’t seem at all irritated or concerned about the call, so I don’t push it. He was already tested for every STD under the sun months ago and all the serious things were ruled out.

He’s dialing on his phone and I realize he’s calling Sandy. I want to yawn…I actually
feel
tired. But I also want to roll my eyes and clear my throat just to remind him that I’m here.

Blah, blah, blah, blah.
I mumble to myself as he talks to Sandy briefly. When they hang up he goes back into the bedroom and gathers up Mick’s glove – tucking the ball tightly inside. He wanders around the living room until he finds a place to display the glove. He decides to stash it in the middle of the small entertainment system – on a shelf. From where he placed it, you can see it clearly from the living room, dining table and small kitchen. He seems happy with it there.

I love it.
I tell him.

He goes about picking up the place…washing a handful of dishes, shoving his dirty hamper deeper into the corner where it can’t be easily seen. He’s preparing for
her.
He even changes his sheets and remakes his bed.

As he moves about the house I start to feel a schism form between us.
What’s that?
I feel suspended, like I’m floating. Suddenly that pinching sensation is back.

Oh, no! It’s happening…I’m going back!

I really start to panic as it closes in around me and I try and use my mind to hold onto him, but the void is growing. I’m being pushed, or pulled out of Sloan.

I’m not done here!
I shout.

What about the gun? He still has it, I haven’t gotten him to get rid of it yet, surely I can’t leave with the weapon still loaded and hidden in his closet? The pinching is now at my waist and I can actually feel my body again.

Wait! I’m not done…please!
I shout louder, but he doesn’t hear me. My vision through his eyes narrows, like I’m staring out into a long tunnel. As the pinching over my missing body becomes an intense pulling sensation, I try once more to be heard.

Sloan, please be safe! Don’t forget me…don’t forget me…my name is Piper…Piper Willow.

***

I’m not sure why I do that…say my name at the last minute. It’s not as if it would ever matter, him hearing my name…and besides – I don’t think he was listening to me anyway. I wasn’t needed anymore after-all. I feel myself surrounded by a heavy darkness and my mind pulls nearly apart before reuniting with my body. I miss him already.

The first thing I notice is the cold glass ground below my feet. I wiggle my toes and relish the feeling. After wrapping my arms around my chest and waist, I hug myself tightly.
I did it! I saved someone!
The door opens and the small room is flooded with the bright white light of the Station. I didn’t think I’d miss it but I know now that I did.

I step through the doorway, anxious to tell Niles about my first case. But the hall is empty.
Where is he?
He said he’d be here when I came back. I release my arms from around my chest and let them fall to my side. I walk over to the portal wall and look up at where I slid my glass card in before leaving for my first case. I’m excited when I pull it from the wall because the black color has turned a smoky grey. The color reminds me of the clouds on an overcast day in San Francisco. My heart thumps a beat when I think of Sloan but my thoughts are interrupted when Niles enters the room, alarm on his face.

“Niles! I can’t wait to tell you everything…hold on, what’s wrong?”

He comes up to me and gives me a quick hug. “I’m sorry I arrived late, Piper, and I’m very anxious to hear about your first case. But something awful has happened, please, come with me.”

I stare at him, confused and nervous at his less than cool demeanor. He’s flustered, and his midnight-blue eyes are full of apprehension. I have
never
seen Niles like this. I let him take my hand and rush me out into the main hallway where there are so many people we bump shoulders. He pushes us through the sea of bewildered Volunteers and I feel a hand grip mine. I look down to see Kerry-Anne. Her brown eyes are full of alarm and the scared look on her face tells me whatever has happened is bad…really bad. We clasp our fingers around each other’s hands and Kerry-Anne follows behind me as Niles guides us outside. There are so many people…people everywhere.

“I’ve never seen this place so full!” I shout to be heard above the roar of the crowd.

Niles is still moving quickly and even though I can’t see it yet through the mass of people around us, I know we are moving toward the fountain…to the center of the Station square.

“Niles, what’s happened?” I ask over his shoulder.

He doesn’t look at me but mumbles, “Oh, Piper, its bad. Please, hurry dear…everyone has been called back for a meeting.”

Called back?
I feel my skin break out into a cold sweat almost immediately after hearing his words.

“Niles, what do you mean? Niles!”

He doesn’t answer, just continues to tug me behind him as he pushes around shoulders, elbows and hips until I can finally see the top of the fountain before us. A sick feeling rolls around in my gut. Once we reach the fountain, I see three people standing on the wide rim, where Kerry-Anne and I used to sit together. Niles releases my hand and as he steps up to join them he is given a metal clipboard by a thirty-something strikingly beautiful brunette with short brown hair that’s curled up on the ends with big bangs. Her pale-yellow vintage pajama top reminds me of a baby-doll outfit; the fabric is simple but the trim is lacey…very girly. The bottom of it rests high up on her thighs. She looks very 60’s era to me. Two older men stand at her other side. One wears a flannel pajama set and the other is in full military duds. She is the only woman and I notice that most eyes in the crowd seem to be focusing on her.

There are thousands of Volunteers and staff huddled tightly around the fountain but everyone stands very still and calm, so there is no surge pushing at my back. Kerry-Anne is clutching my arm and I stand shoulder to shoulder with a man in his sixties, or maybe seventies…it’s really hard to tell his age, but his hair is thin and white and his wrinkles are set deep into his face. I can see nothing else but a sea of limbs around me.
This is amazing.
I wonder where all these people came from and how the Station accommodates everyone without us noticing how many of us there truly are.

Niles searches the crowd and when his eyes settle on mine, he gives a little nod. Then his voice booms out above our heads, and instantly all is silent.

“Thank you everyone for your attention. As most of you have probably already figured out, you have been pulled from your Assignments for this meeting.” He avoids looking in my direction but I sense his next comment is meant for me. “This is highly unusual practice, and for those of you that were on your first cases, we apologize for the confusion this may have caused.”

I gasp. I wasn’t ready to leave Sloan after-all.
I knew it.

Niles continues, “We are confident that you have left your current Assignments in good condition. If this wasn’t an emergency, we wouldn’t have called you back on our own.”

I’m shocked. I didn’t think we
could
be called back from an assignment early. And Niles…I want to know who he is
exactly
, because now I understand he’s much more than just my Intake Specialist.

A murmur has spread through part of the crowd to my right and Niles holds up his hand for their attention. His blue sweater-vest glows against the blue tile of the fountain, and for one brief moment I want to laugh…because the dark turquoise colors match perfectly. The whispering group immediately quiets.