Sleeping Handsome (3 page)

~5~

“How are you today, Zach? Feeling
better?” I almost laugh at my lame joke. I need it because coming here after
school—where teenagers move and can talk—and seeing him every day the same just
lying there is starting to get to me. I’d like to yell, ‘Get up! Wake up
already.’ But that’s not going to happen. So I’ll keep playing along like he
can hear me.

“Well,” I drop my gym
bag and purse on the floor, “last night went great. From Amanda’s expression of
satisfaction, I must have looked green with venom. Or is it envy?” My forehead
scrunches. “Anyway, I’m so over Carson. Watching him fawn and gawk at Amanda
was almost enough to make me vomit up an array of tapas. But being the
consummate actor that I am, I kept my reaction to myself.”

Unzipping my bag, I
continue, “Two weeks from now, I’m going to try out for a small part in some
cable sitcom.” I pull out a t-shirt. “The girl’s like a serious, shy bookworm
or something. Not me so I need any kind of practice. And who better to practice
on than Amanda? But I’m excited about the part. Even think I might have a
chance.”

Behind the chair—I feel
weird changing in front of him—I begin pulling off my tight halter. It looks
good but the thing is way too uncomfortable. “Of course, I got stuck with the
ninety dollar bill last night. Who knew tapas were so much? Sometimes, well
most of the time, I think Amanda’s just my friend because my parents are so
rich. Because I have a limitless credit card. Her parents are rich too. Almost
everyone at our school is, but my stepfather’s beyond loaded. His hands are in
everything from movies to property. I’m pretty sure Amanda purposely buddied up
to me half way through freshman year because she found out how loaded my step-dad
was.” I shrug and pull on the faded t-shirt. “Who knows though? At the time, I
was amazed someone like her would want to hang with me. Of course that was
before I got to know her.”

I settle in the chair
and smooth the cover of
Frankenstein
with my palm. “You know, I’ve been thinking. We’re kind of alike, you and me. I
mean the Amanda thing and the dad thing. Except you were probably doing it
because you care about your dad. While I put up with Amanda so I can stay
popular and stay on top of the high school food link. Or is it chain?”

A sigh accompanies the
opening of the journal. “Obviously, your reason’s way better than mine. So less
selfish.” I frown at him. “I don’t like admitting that but then you’re so easy
to talk to.” At least I smile at this lame joke.

“Alrighty, on with your
life.”

December
12,

Our
trip to the Rose Center was victorious. Becoming state champions and scoring
three touchdowns felt awesome until I saw my dad’s face in the stands.
 

Euphoria
became an anchor weighing me down
.

Beyond
the happiness and pride on his face, I saw the gleam in his eyes for my
glorious football future, which is never going to happen.

Like
a vacuum, he sucked the joy right out of me.

Sure
I love playing football. Love winning. I always enjoy the season, the
camaraderie, and the physical exertion. I just can’t imagine doing this for the
next twenty years.

It
would be hell.

No
creativity, no thought, just follow plays and orders.

That’s
why covered in cold Gatorade and up on my teams’ shoulders it felt like I’d
been punched when I looked at his face. This is going to spurn him on more than
before. This is his dream come true.

This
makes the truth almost impossible to tell.

So
much for victory.

“Wow. Eek. Wow. That’s
quite an accomplishment, state champs, but yeah, the dad thing…” I glance out
the window, always open to let the fresh air and sunshine in. “I wonder…did you
ever talk to your mom? Ask her for advice?”
I watch him breathe for a moment.
“It
just seems like she loves you so much. Seems like she would have understood and
would have helped with your dad.”

My eyes close, shutting
out the tranquil vision of him lying so still. “My mom… I know she loves me,
but she’s so busy with my little sister and my stepfather. She’s…well sometimes
I see her when I’m home for dinner.”

For some reason, I feel
like crying. And I hate crying. I open my eyes and the vision of Zach lying
there has me pissed at myself. Like I’ve got it bad. He’s stuck in a coma.

The next page is just a
sheet of doodling. Swirls and jagged lines colored with black ink. Guess he
didn’t feel like writing that day, but the next page has his long scrawl again.

December
14,

Today,
we went to the beach. It was a championship celebration. Matt brought the drinks.
I haven’t had a beer for over four months. I brought the dogs. Nick brought the
snacks. And the girls brought the eye candy. Then between volleyball, grilling,
and my new sunglasses (they’re the reflective ones) I noticed something.

Matt’s
infatuated (maybe more) with my girlfriend.

He
stares at her, like JM stares at me, every second he thinks I’m not looking. Of
course, Melanie’s hot, but Matt’s stare goes beyond the normal check out and
unlike the absence of a real connection like JM and me, he knows Melanie.

 
His stare was a mix of admiration, longing,
and… tenderness. (Can’t believe I used such a word, but that’s what it was.)

For
about half the day, I had the urge to punch him. Slam his face in the sand and
beat the crap out of him.

Until
I realized something.

I
don’t think I’ve ever looked at her like that. I don’t think I ever will.

But
my best friend does.

Every
chance he gets.

And
it bothers me. Being the barrier between her and his feelings.

And
it makes me wonder if I’ll ever feel like that for someone else.

Blinking in surprise, I
look up at him. “Me too,” I whisper. “I wonder if I’m capable of feeling more
than interest, more than attraction.”

My chin rests on the
top of the journal. “I never seem to get that far with a guy before Amanda
swoops in. Just imagine though if instead of just noticing blue eyes or a tight
butt, noticing a person’s likes, their dislikes, their interests, their
motivation, and their integrity or lack of first. Would they still be
attractive? ”

Air whooshes and
machines beep while I’m lost in thought. Lost in admiration at how he thinks of
others. “It’s cool you know, thinking of your friend’s feelings. I’m just
hoping this helped you break up with Melanie. She’s even starting to annoy
me
.”

Yet in the next couple
of entries, he doesn’t break up with Melanie. He complains about her, compares
her to a ball and chain—shouldn’t that be cord?—and even describes a long
fight, but no break up.

Darn.

~6~

Unable to do anything else I lean against
the back of the lazy boy and pant and pant. “You’re not going to believe this,”
I pause for air, “but Amanda really did it this time. She just had to impress
some college guys at the coffee shop.” I take another huge breath. “She just
had to drive my car and back up into truck. How does a semi fit in a blind
spot?” I ask in an incredulous screech before gulping air again. “So since my
sister had ballet practice, I had to ride my bike here. I haven’t used that
thing since I was like twelve.”

Of course, my silent
audience of one doesn’t respond just breathes with a whoosh. I could use that
machine at the moment.

The water bottle in my
hand gets drained before I continue. “Wow. I thought I was in shape, but that
six miles just kicked my butt. The gym’s not doing as much as I thought.
 
And, ugh, my car’s in the shop until Monday.”
I reach for the journal wedged in between the books on the shelf.

“Anyway, at least I
won’t have to go to the college party on Amanda’s agenda for Friday. That’s her
new thing, college guys. Hitting sorority parties. We went to one a couple of
weeks ago and she’s hooked. Even while she’s kind of seeing Carson. She’ll make
Kelly drive since I’m grounded for the weekend. Whoppdie do da. Like I care.
Besides those sorority guys kind of freak me out. Since I don’t drink, rather
drive, it’s pretty easy to see how they work. Ply a girl with alcohol and try
and get laid. Like I want to sleep with some drunk guy just because he’s in
college.”

For once, I crank the
lazy boy’s handle, open the footrest, and stretch out. “You know,” I say,
staring at Zach intently over the top of my tennis shoes, “you’d be in college
right now if it weren’t for your accident. But I don’t think you’d be like
those jerks. You don’t seem like that. You seem so much more thoughtful. You
have a conscience. I think that’s why you feel so much turmoil about your dad
and Melanie.”

I pull my nail file,
slash bookmark, from the journal. “So what’s on the agenda today? You gonna
tell your father that you won’t be taking the pro route? Or will you finally
break up with Melanie?” I gnaw on my lip. “I shouldn’t talk. It’s not like I
tackle issues helmet on. Huh, a football reference. Guess you’re rubbing off on
me.” I frown. “Or maybe it’s your dad.”

Not wanting to talk
anymore about his dad, I smooth the pages and start where I left off last time.

December
28,

I’m
almost done with my writing sample since I spent most of Christmas break
working on it. I think it’s good, but I’m going to have Mrs. Gains take a look.
I’m a bit anxious about hearing her opinion. Actually, I’m scared shitless and
I’m hoping that’s because I poured so much emotion in it. Since the short story
is about a guy whose father wants him to be a lawyer, but he wants to be a
surfer, it kind of mirrors my own life. So it should have some authentic
emotion.
 
If she says its crap, I just
might cry like a little fan girl. Or jump off a cliff.

 
(I stare at those five
words. Did he really write that? Did I just read that? My fingers shake and the
book shakes with it. My eyes rise to his still form. His calm face. No! No! No!
Those words just have to be a coincidence. They have to be! I take a deep
breath and force myself to read on.)

The
rest of the time between going out and talking on the phone with Melanie I read
Jane Eyre.
Mrs. Gains, after asking us for our reading preferences,
assigned us something out of our comfort zone. Since I like spy stories,
science fiction, adventures, and a some literary classics, I shouldn’t have
been surprised she assigned me a romance, but even more surprising?

I
liked it.

Even
though Edward was a dick, you could see he was trying to change, trying to
become a better person. Yet to try to trick Jane into marriage after he’d been
tricked into it…Well yeah, he was a major dick. I found it amazing that Jane
still loved him. Yet because of who she was and because of their past I found
her love believable. Great character development there. The fact that she
forgave him, the fact that he did change in the end, kind of gives me hope.

Hope
that I can change.

The journal drops in my
lap. “Oh, Zach you don’t need to change. You seem like a really great guy. You
just need to be more assertive. Hell, who doesn’t? I sure do. But someone like
this Jane could love you.”

The journal bounces
nervously on my knee. “Melanie’s not the one though is she?
 
I don’t think Melanie’s as evil as Amanda or
anything. She just wants so much attention and wants you for all the wrong
reasons.” I let out a belittling sigh. “And once again, who am I to talk? I
follow Amanda for all the wrong reasons too.”

But no matter how long
I read his journal, I’ll never understand Melanie. Never get why she wants to
go to games, parties, and out with other couples instead of just being with
Zach. He seems too awesome to be sharing with everyone all the time.

Glancing at his scrawl,
I bite my lip. I want to say something about the jumping off the cliff comment,
but somehow it doesn’t seem right discussing that while he’s in a coma. While
it might be the reason he’s in one. I ignore the words at the back of my throat
and turn the page. I’m a little shocked at the date. He almost skipped a whole
month of writing.

January
29,

I
gave up writing in this thing, but the New Year has me thinking a lot lately. Thinking
about the choices I don’t really make. Thinking about how about how fucking
spineless I am. I’d planned to just get through this year. Just going with the
flow, but it’s getting so bad I can hardly look in the mirror at myself.

I
have to face up to my father. I have to tell him the truth. I’m not going to
take a sports scholarship. I’m not even going to play football in college. But
just the thought of saying those words to him has me ill. He’s going to be so
hurt, so mad, and so defeated. I wanted to tell him after I found out about the
writing scholarship, even if I don’t get it. Yet, meanwhile the pretending is
gnawing at my gut and tearing into my conscience.

Then
there’s Melanie. I’m leading her on too. She’s just a convenience and I’m using
her. But it’s so much easier to play along. Except when she grates the shit out
of my nerves, which is happening far too much. I don’t want to hurt her and
while there’s no way this relationship will continue after high school, I keep
using the excuse that she’d want a boyfriend throughout her last year, through
prom and graduation. Even though I really know the longer we’re together, the
more it’s going to hurt her.

Fuck.
I feel like Edward the dick.

Okay here we go! I
think turning the page, but the following entries are just as spineless.
Parties, fighting with Melanie, realizing Matt is still beyond infatuated,
guilt, and more guilt until I slam the journal shut.

The lazy boy snaps back
into its original form with a force stronger than necessary. My fingers itch to
shake some sense into the boy lying quietly on the bed.
 
And that would probably not be a good thing.

But then maybe I should
shake myself too. I’m just as bad as him.

I yank my backpack onto
my back—since on a bike it’s the only easy way to carry stuff. Mad at him, mad
at myself, and afraid of my own anger, I say, “See you tomorrow.” Then stomp
out of the room.