Gone (7 page)

And then, like a broken filmstrip, the picture cuts out and the static is back, louder than ever, constant screamo in her ears. Janie struggles, head pounding. Tries pulling out of the dream, but she can’t focus—the static is messing up her ability to concentrate
.

She’s flopping around on the floor now. Straining
.

Thinks Cabel is there, holding her, but she can’t feel anything now
.

The bright colors slam into her eyes, into her brain, into her body. The static is like pinpricks in every pore of her skin
.

She’s trapped
.

Trapped in the nightmare of a man who can’t wake up
.

Janie struggles again, feeling like she’s suffocating now. Feeling like if she doesn’t get out of this mess, she might die here.
Cabe!
she screams in her head.
Get me out of here!

But of course he can’t hear her
.

She gathers up all her strength and pulls, groaning inwardly with such force that it hurts all the way through. When the nightmare flickers to the picture of the woman again, Janie is just barely able to burst from her confines
.

She gasps for breath.

“Janie?” Cabel’s voice is soft, urgent.

His finger paints her skin from forehead to cheek, his hand captures the back of her neck, and then he lifts her, carries her to the chair. “Are you okay?”

Janie can’t speak. She can’t see. Her body is numb. All she can do is nod.

And then, there’s a sound from across the room.

It’s certainly not Henry.

Janie hears Cabel swear under his breath.

“Good morning,” says a man. “I’m Doctor Ming.”

Janie sits up as straight as she can in the chair, hoping Cabel’s standing in front of her.

“Hi,” Cabe says. “We—I—how’s he doing today? We just got here.”

Dr. Ming doesn’t answer immediately and Janie breaks out into a sweat.
Oh, God, he’s staring at me
.

“Are you . . . ?”

“We’re his kids.”

“And is the young woman all right?”

“She’s fine. This is really . . .” Cabel sighs and his voice catches. “Ah . . . really an emotional time for us, you know.” Janie knows he’s stalling for her sake.

“Of course,” says the doctor. “Well.”

Janie’s sight is beginning to return and she sees that Dr. Ming is glancing over the chart. He continues. “It could be any day or he might hang on for a few. It’s hard to say.”

Janie clears her throat and leans carefully to the side of the chair so she can see past Cabel’s bum. “Is he . . . brain-dead?”

“Hm? No, there appears to be some minor brain activity still.”

“What’s wrong with him, exactly?”

“We don’t actually know. Could be a tumor, maybe a
series of strokes. And without surgery, we might not ever know. But he made it clear in his DNR that he didn’t want life-saving measures and his next of kin—your mother, I believe?—she refused to sign off on surgery or any procedures.” He says this in a pitying voice that makes Janie hate him.

“Well,” she says, “does he even have insurance?”

The doctor checks the paperwork again. “Apparently not.”

“What are the chances that surgery will help? I mean, could he be normal again?”

Dr. Ming glances at Henry, as if he can determine his chances by looking at him. “I don’t know. He might never be able to live on his own. That is, if he even survived the surgery.” He looks at the chart again.

Janie nods slowly. That’s why. That’s why he’s just lying here. That, and the DNR. That’s why they aren’t fixing him—he’s too broken. She tries to sound simply curious but it comes out nervous. “So, uh, how much does it cost for him to just be here, waiting to die . . . and stuff?”

The doctor shakes his head. “I don’t know—that’s really a question for the accounting office.” He glances at his watch. Puts the chart back. “Okay, then.” He walks briskly out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

When Dr. Ming is gone, Janie glares at Cabel. “Don’t ever let that happen again! Couldn’t you tell I was trapped in the nightmare? I couldn’t get out, Cabe. I thought I was going to die.”

Cabel’s mouth opens, surprised and hurt. “I could tell you were struggling, but if I did break it, how was I supposed to know you wouldn’t be mad at me for that? And what did you want me to do, drag you out in the hallway? We’re in a freaking hospital, Hannagan. If anybody saw you like that you’d be strapped to a gurney in thirty seconds and we’d be stuck here all day, not to mention the bill for that.”

“Better that than sucked into full frontal static-land. No wonder the guy’s crazy. I’m half-crazy just spending a few minutes listening to that. Besides,” Janie adds coolly, pointing to the private bathroom, “hello.”

Cabel rolls his eyes. “I didn’t think of it, okay? You know, it’s not like I spend every waking moment planning my life around your stupid problems. There’s more—”

He slams his lips together.

Janie’s jaw drops.

“Oh, crap.” He steps toward her, sorry-eyed. And she steps back.

Shakes her head and looks away, fingers to her mouth, eyes filling.

“Don’t, Janie. I didn’t mean it.”

Janie closes her eyes and swallows hard. “No,” she says slowly. Doesn’t want to say it, but knows it’s true. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She gives a morose laugh. “It’s good for you to say it like it is, you know? Healthy. And shit.”

“Come on,” he says. “Come ’ere.” He steps toward her again and this time she goes to him. He runs his fingers through her hair and holds her to his chest. Kisses her forehead. “I’m sorry too. And that’s not like it is. I just . . . it just came out wrong.”

“Did it? Are you really saying that you aren’t concerned about what’s going to happen to me? About how that will affect you?”

“Janie—” Cabel gives her a helpless look.

“Well?”

“Well what? What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell the truth. Aren’t you worried? Not even a little bit?”

“Janie,” he says again. “Don’t. Why are you doing this?”

But he doesn’t answer the question.

To Janie, that says it all. She closes her eyes. “I think I’m a little stressed out,” she whispers after a moment, and then shakes her head. At least now she knows. “Got a lot on my mind.”

“Oh, really?” Cabe laughs softly.

“Some great vacation week, huh?”

Cabel snorts. “Yeah. Seems like forever since we were lazing around in the sun.”

Janie’s quiet, thinking about her mother, her father, and everything else. Cabel, and her own stupid problems, as Cabel calls them. And now, she wonders,
Who’s going to pay this hospital bill?
She hopes like hell Henry has money, but by the looks of him, he’s homeless. “No insurance,” she groans aloud. Bangs her head against Cabel’s chest. “Ay yi yi.”

“It’s not your problem.”

Janie sighs deeply. “Why do I feel so responsible for it then?”

Cabel’s quiet.

Janie looks up at him. “What?”

“You want me to analyze you?”

She laughs. “Sure.”

“I’ll probably regret saying anything. But it’s like this. You’re so used to playing the responsible one with your mother. Now you see this dysfunctional guy, somebody tells you he’s your father and boom, your instinct is to be responsible for him, too, since he appears to be even more fucked-up than your mother. God knows we never thought that was possible.”

Janie sighs. “I’m just trying to get through it all, you know? Get through the messes one by one, hoping each time it’s the last one, and then I look beyond it and realize,
crap, there’s one more. Just hoping that someday, finally, I’ll be free.” Janie looks over at Henry and walks over to the side of the bed. “But it never happens,” she says. Looks at her father for a long moment.

Thinking.

Thinking.

Maybe it’s time to change.

Time to be responsible for just one person.

“Come on,” she finally says to Cabel. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do for him. Let’s just go. Wait for them to call my mother when he’s . . . when it’s over.”

“Okay, sweets.” Cabel follows Janie out of the room. He nods to Miguel at the desk and Miguel offers a sympathetic smile.

“Now what?” Cabel says, grabbing Janie’s hand as they walk out to his car. “Food?”

“I think I’d rather you just drive me home, will you? I need some process time. Better check on my mother, too.”

“Ah. Okay.” Cabel doesn’t sound thrilled. “Tonight?”

“Yeah . . .” Janie says, distracted. “That would be good.”

1:15 p.m.

Janie flops onto her bed. Sinks her face into her pillow.
Her fan full blast and blowing on her, window and shade closed to keep the heat out. It’s hot in the house, but Janie doesn’t care. She’s still recuperating from last night. She falls hard into an afternoon sleep. Her dreams are jumbled and random, flitting from a creepy, hairy homeless man chasing her to her mother stumbling around drunk in the front yard naked, to Mr. Durbin threatening to kill her, to a parade with all the people from the Hill lined up along the street, watching. Pointing and laughing at Janie the narc girl.

Then she dreams a horrible dream about Miss Stubin dying, and even though she’s already dead, it still hurts. In the dream, Janie cries. When she wakes, her eyes are wet.

So is the rest of her. She’s sweating so hard her sheets are damp.

And she feels like somebody beat the crap out of her.

Janie hates naps like that.

4:22 p.m.

She slips on her running shoes, stretches, and heads out the door, water bottle in hand. Thinks maybe this is what she needs. She hasn’t worked out all week.

She walks down the driveway, feet crunching the gravel, and eases into a jog. Pounds the tar-patched pavement, her shoes making dents in the black blobs that are
made even softer by the sun. Sweat pours down her back, between her breasts. Her legs are tired but she keeps going, waiting for that rush to hit. She runs all the way to Heather Home without realizing where she’s going. The rhythmic step, the measured breathing, both slamming bad thoughts and memories through her head, trying to pound them out.

Not really succeeding.

Up the drive and into the cement parking lot she runs and then she stops. Stands in a parking space whose lines look tired from years of wear and lack of paint. Looks up to the sky, above the enormous maples, picturing that night a few summers ago when she sat out here with three of the Heather Home residents for the Fourth of July fireworks. They oohed and ahhed over the display, even though one of them was blind.

Blind, like Janie will be.

Oh, Miss Stubin
.

Janie, breathing hard, lowers herself to the hot cement and the tears spill out freely, the pain of being eighteen and in love with a guy who can’t talk about what’s happening to her, and feeling this huge weight pressing into her chest, smashing her down, holding her back, keeping her from really living like a teenage girl should be living, and she wonders, not for the first time, why all this shit is happening to her. Thinks that she
made a horrible mistake, taking the job with Captain and accelerating her own blindness for the benefit of others. Wonders what it would be like if all of it had never happened to her, if she’d never read that damn green notebook, if she’d never ridden that train where it all started when she was eight. If she could actually be in control of her life, just once.

Wonders if she should really do what she’s been afraid to do all this time.

Save herself and screw the rest.

“Give me a fucking break!” she shouts up to the fireworks that are no longer there. “What the fuck do I have to do to just be normal? What did I ever do to deserve this crap? Why?” She sobs. “Why?”

Also, not for the first time,

there is no answer.

5:35 p.m.

Janie picks herself up.

Wipes the dirt from her shorts.

Starts jogging home.

6:09 p.m.

She slips into the back door of Cabel’s house. Exhausted and empty.

He looks up from the kitchen where’s he’s fixing a sandwich and blinks at her.

“Hi,” she says. Stands there, her tear-stained cheeks streaked with summer road dust and sweat.

Cabel’s nose twitches. “Wow. You smell disgusting,” he says. “Come with me.”

And then he leads her to the bathroom. Turns on the shower. Kneels down to take off her shoes and socks as she sets her glasses on the counter and takes out her ponytail. Helps her out of her sodden clothes. And then he holds the curtain aside for her. “Go on,” he says. She steps in.

He watches her, admiring her curves. Reluctantly turns to go.

And then he stops.

Thinks Janie might need some extra pampering.

He slips off his T-shirt and shorts. Boxers, too. And joins her.

6:42 p.m.

“Hey, Cabe?” she says, drying her hair, feeling refreshed. Grinning. Putting all thoughts but one aside for the moment. “You wanna go get Jimmy a raincoat and we’ll take care of you?”

Cabel looks at her.

Turns his head and narrows his eyes.

“Who the hell is Jimmy?”

11:21 p.m.

In the cool dark basement, she whispers, “It’s not Ralph, is it?”

Cabel’s quiet for a moment, as if he’s thinking. “You mean like
Forever
Ralph? Uh, no.”

“You’ve read
Forever
?” Janie is incredulous.

“There wasn’t much to choose from on the hospital library cart, and
Deenie
was always checked out,” Cabel says sarcastically.

“Did you like it?”

Cabel laughs softly. “Um . . . well, it wasn’t the wisest thing to read for a fourteen-year-old guy with fresh skin grafts in the general area down there, if you know what I mean.”

Janie stifles a sympathetic laugh and buries her face in his T-shirt. Holds him close. Feels him breathing. After a few minutes, she says, “So what, then? Pete? Clyde?”

Cabel rolls over, pretending to sleep.

“It’s Fred, isn’t it.”

“Janie. Stop.”

“You named your thing Janie?” She giggles.

Cabel groans deeply. “Go to sleep.”

11:41 p.m.