Never Have I Ever (53 page)

“Try not to,” encouraged Anya. “Don’t let yourself take that road; it won’t do you any good.”

I rubbed the fatigue from my face and my voice was muffled into my palms. “I emptied a full clip into Ethan tonight. Well, at Ethan. I’m not sure how many actually hit him. There’s a stark difference between wishing death on someone in your head and actually following through with it.”

“There is. He shot first, right?”

I glared at her. “I’m not stupid.”

“On the record: Hopefully they’ll take self-defense and the protection of someone else into account when the police
come
calling. Off the record: The only thing that would make it more satisfying is if he’d been drawn and quartered first.”

As evil as it sounded, I was just relieved he no longer drew breath. “They already
came
calling. I told them everything; up to and including what he did to me. I think that’s the only reason I’m not on my way to a holding cell right this instant.”

“Noah’s strong. He’ll pull through this. Just like you.”

I couldn’t answer her. I was afraid anything I might say would jinx the entire possibility of recovery. Declan returned ten minutes later. I moved my feet to the floor so he could sit beside me on the crappy couch.

Before his ass even hit the cushion, I asked eagerly, “What did they say?”

Declan ran his hands across his shaved head. “He’s stabilized for now. Evidentially the bullet was a through and through. It punctured a lung.
Barely grazed it.
He lost a fuck load of blood among other complications I failed to translate from doctor jargon. They’re bringing him up from the OR shortly.”

A little spark of hope flickered in the swirl of black and red slowly dragging me down. “When can we see him?”

“Someone will come get us when he’s situated. Something like this, though—shit, it could go either way; stable one minute and critical the next.”

“He’s not dead yet,” I scolded.

“Counting our blessings as we speak,” Declan agreed. “I should go call Robert and Evelyn.
Back in a minute.”

He was almost to the elevator when I stopped him. “Declan.”

“Yeah?”

What words, I wondered, might placate a parent for this sort of thing. What special combination of sincerity, hope, frustration, and regret might give them solace in a time when they were unable to be with their children who found themselves straddling death’s door if not already on the other side? I settled on simplicity after stumbling over the wrong words. “I’m not proud of what happened. I’m sorry things escalated the way they did. I never… I didn’t want this.
Truly.
Will you please tell them that for me?”

“Yeah.
I’ll tell them.”

Declan pulled his phone from his pocket as he entered the elevator to make what was probably one of the most difficult calls of his life. Twenty minutes and one raw-faced Declan later, the staff emerged from the double doors of the ICU. I’d never seen Declan cry before. I suppose I still never had at this point, either, because he had stopped by the time he returned to the ICU waiting room. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, rivaling mine in their redness.

The nurses warned us against expecting Noah to regain conscious anytime in the next twenty four hours when they finally let us in. I grabbed an armchair from one side of the room straight away, dragged it to the right side of the bed—the side without the bullet hole—and settled in for the long haul. I folded my legs up under me in the chair. My arm stretched over the length of the side of the bed so I could lace my fingers into Noah’s and rest my head on my arm while I watched the monitors over his head. A tube drained excess fluid from his chest. IVs and a breathing mask sent cables and thin hoses in every which direction above him and on his left side. His skin had become clammy and pale; it made the ever-so-light freckles on his face reminiscent of pepper on a bed of sea salt.

If only I took action sooner then perhaps this never would have happened. If I filed a report when everyone encouraged me to in the beginning then maybe Ethan would be in jail and Noah wouldn’t be struggling for every breath he took in front of me. I wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to see my face again.

After seven hours of watching Noah’s vitals bounce up and down without moving more than a few inches in my seat, Declan knelt beside me and placed his hand on my arm. “Why don’t you go home and get some sleep?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. My gaze didn’t leave the waves of neon green and blue light springing around on the monitor.

“Okay.” He pinched the bridge of his nose to abate his own exhaustion. “In that case, coffee is definitely in order. Are you hungry?”

I shook my head.

“Eat something anyway. Anya?”

Anya gripped his hand. “A protein bar if you can. Thanks babe.”

Declan stood from my side, gave Anya a kiss on the crown of her head, and made his exit to search for vending machines or the gift shop. In the past months I’d been so wrapped up in seclusion I completely forgot his pursuit of her.
So much for reciprocating the basic tenants of friendship.
Feeling generally horrible about not bringing it up beforehand, I sat back in the chair and glanced over at Anya.

“So, you and Declan.”

“Yep.
Me and Declan.”

“I’m glad you found each other,
hun
. You make a great pair. Have you…” I tossed her a suggestive glance.

“Oh, like bunnies,” she answered quickly.

I snorted out a mystified chuckle, a strange transition to my thoughts as I suddenly remembered what Howard told me when he and I got acquainted.

Anya raised an eyebrow. “The hell’s that about?”

“Howard’s a dick,” I said with a little smile. “When I first met him, before life got complicated, Howard said he didn’t claim to be prophetic, but he thought Noah and I would save each other.
Not prophetic my ass.”

“Are you worried he’s not going to come back from this?”

“Let’s just say I’m trying real hard to have faith.”

“There’s something I don’t quite understand about you. As a psychologist, I know too much about the inner-workings of people and nature to hold much faith in anything. A lot of people in my line of work do; sadly I’m not one of them. How is it you can reconcile your passion as a scientist and the belief in a higher power?”

“As a scientist, I agree with you. As a human being, must they be mutually exclusive? If there is someone up there, someone who we correctly and egotistically think cares that much about our microscopic hold on the Universe, then their intelligence is beyond ours. I want to believe in God because I’d like to think I can learn His—or
Her—
language if I try hard enough.”

Not that, if God existed, I would ever be able to meet Him. I took a man’s life; just one damnable offence on a long list of damnable offenses in my life. There was probably already a condo lined up for me in the second circle of Hell. Possibly the seventh if the theorized Creator decided not to go easy on me. The self-defense plea might sway Him in the end.

“You’re an astrophysicist because you want to talk to God,” Anya inquired.

“I’m an astrophysicist because I want to translate the secrets of the Universe to people who can’t read its language. Maybe it means talking to God; I don’t really know anymore. Even if we’re merely the aftermath of random happenstance, I have to try.
I can’t
not
try.”
I lolled my head against the headrest of the chair and tucked my legs up a little closer to my chest. My vision came to rest on Noah; fitted with tubes and IVs and all the trappings
of an impossible struggle mere feet
away. “There is so much in this world to love, Anya. You can only really appreciate it in its entirety when you fully understand why you love it, when you unlock and translate its secrets for what they are, and grip them so close to your soul it hurts.”

She took some time to process my words before asking, “We aren’t talking about God and physics anymore, are we?”

They were not mutually exclusive; the secrets of a higher power, of the Universe, of Noah. But I didn’t feel like explaining the trail of breadcrumbs which connected them for Anya. I simply settled for a somber, “No.”

Breathe, Noah.

Breathe.

***

Robert, Noah’s father, looked just like him only with the proper amount of gray in his hair to pull off the distinguished older gentleman appearance. He was there with Noah’s mother, Evelyn, a thin brunette with a small face, the following Monday; the day the doctors moved Noah to his own room. I spent most of the weekend waiting beside his bed for his eyes to open. Had it not been for the need to shower and nap on something other than a compact chair or lumpy waiting room sofa, I never would have left at all. The morning his parents arrived at the hospital I was gone for just that reason.

I froze at the end of the hall on the way to Noah’s room when I saw them both standing just outside the door to weigh the probability of waking up dead after introducing myself. They were in the middle of a conversation with Noah’s doctor which gave me a solid minute or so to consider my approach. On the one hand I loved their son and, according to the detectives, helped keep the bleeding under control well enough to give him a fighting chance. On the other hand I was the singular reason he was in his current state. Taking their other son’s life definitely lost me points in the relationship department. The thunderous sounds my heart made deafened the world around me. I was milliseconds away from turning tail and bolting as surreptitiously as possible towards the nearest elevator when Declan suddenly appeared next to me with his hand on my shoulder.

“Good, you’re back.”

I jumped. “Jesus, Dec.
Don’t
scare me like that.”

“My bad.”

“Where’s Anya?”

“Work.”
Declan shrugged. “
Them’s
the breaks.” He jutted his chin toward Noah’s room and confirmed my suspicions. “That’s Noah’s folks there. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

He started to wave at them to get their attention until I slapped his hand down. “Wait.”

“What?”

“Just.” I huffed in frustration. “Let me psych myself up to meet the parents of the man I killed right quick, okay?”

“Right.
I’m an insensitive jackass. Sorry.”

The two of us stood side by side for a good thirty seconds just staring down the white corridor at the couple’s conversation with the doctor.

“Ready?”

“Not yet.”

Declan leaned over to me a little more. “Noah woke up about four hours ago.”

I took a deep breath and started walking. “Let’s go.”

“Knew it.”

Volatile cocktail though I may have been walking into, if I wanted to see Noah anytime soon, I had to face the dragons at the gate. I hoped to have more time to collect my thoughts, to prepare a little speech and pray they didn’t kick me out. I didn’t get the opportunity however because as Declan and I closed the distance between us and them the doctor finished his discussion with the couple, giving a nod of acknowledgment towards me on his way down the hall.

“You’re Piper,” Robert said in greeting.

“Yes, sir.
You’re Noah’s dad, right?”

“Robert,” he said. He smoothed his hands over his wife’s arms in comfort. “This is Evelyn, my wife. I hear you’ve been stuck like butter on toast to our son all weekend.”

I looked down at the cracks in the tile of the floor, wishing I could melt between them. “I can’t imagine how upset you must be at me for my part in all this. I just want you to know how awful I feel. I’m the cause of everything and I wish, more than anything in the world, I wasn’t.”

Evelyn’s face reddened with the threat of motherly tears. She practically gasped out a sob while she wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug that rivaled the sorts of hugs my father used to give me as a kid. I stood straight as an arrow for fear of being beaten senseless. The last thing I expected was kindness. Evelyn rubbed my back and held me close. I was sure she could feel the scars through the fabric of the t-shirt. As uncomfortable as it made me, I successfully prevented myself from freaking out at her touch. Instead, I glanced at Noah’s father. Tears brimmed in his eyes as I exhaled and wrapped my arms around his wife in return, mumbling my sincerest apologies into her shoulder.

“Ethan brought this on himself,” Evelyn said. “He made poor choices. He didn’t turn to his network of support when he should have, nothing more. We don’t blame you, dear.”

“Then, you don’t hate me?”

“No, we don’t hate you,” she affirmed as she pulled away from me. Her hands slid down my arms to hold mine. “We can talk later. Noah’s been asking for you since he woke up. Would you like to see him?”

“Very much so.”

“Go ahead. We’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Thank you.”

They said their brief good-byes to Declan who then folded his arms across his chest and nodded towards the room. “Go on.”