Spring Tide (6 page)

“While you were talking to the sheriff, I hung out and listened to the other cops. From what I picked up, they have no idea what was goin’ on with him. As far as they could tell nothing had been stolen and there was no forced entry. He doesn’t even have a record.”

“I think he was high.” I covered my face with my hands. “As soon as I heard noises, I knew I had to haul for the door but I didn’t. I could’ve made it out. I should’ve made it out.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No, I know.” I picked at the collar of my shirt. “This is grim. Can I borrow?”

He took his old tennis jersey from his dresser and handed it to me.

In his bathroom, I pried the blood-coated neckline of my tee from the crime scene that was my hair and peeled off the shirt. There were seven green and purplish-brown bruises across my side, chest, and stomach. One was square like the heel of a boot.
Bruises? But he kicked me so hard. It hurt so bad. I couldn’t breathe. This can’t be. It can’t.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my forehead so I could better remember the sequence of events and connect the dots, but the dots were all misnumbered.

Baffled, I dropped Derek’s shirt over my head, took a towel from the rack, and exited the bathroom. “I need to rinse out my hair in the kitchen sink.”

“Good idea. Hungry? Want me to get you somethin’?”

“A sandwich, nothing big. There’s a ten in my backpack.” I opened his bedroom door and then abruptly turned back to him. “How’d you know to come? How were you there?”

“Some dude called me from your phone.”

“Huh?” The dots were all over creation.

“He said four or five times that I needed to go to The Bakery immediately.” He picked up his keys from the dresser. “I didn’t know what the hell was goin’ on but heard sirens in the background so I went.”

“It was the paramedic?”

He shrugged. “It was four a.m. I’m amazed I answered the thing. Yeah, might’ve been him.”

Nick appeared at the threshold. “That’s so grisly. You got assaulted at a bakery? That’s like getting mugged at a pet store. What the crap?”

“Please go away.” I looked from him to Derek. “Take him with you.”

“I’m serious. That’s nast. You okay though?” Boy Wonder snapped off two photos with his cell before Derek took it away from him and cajoled him to the door with the promise of an Italian sub. Ten seconds later I heard Derek’s car start.

I went to the kitchen, turned on the faucet, and positioned my head bloody side up. With the sprayer in my hand, I held my breath, the temp too cold. Pink water speckled with bits of brown whirled down the drain for what seemed like twenty minutes before it ran clear. I gently rubbed the towel over my head while groping for my comb in my bag. For the next five minutes I yanked the teeth through snarls and snags. I expected my scalp to be more tender, but it didn’t hurt any more than a usual combing. The headache was subsiding and other than fatigue, I felt decent. I sat in a chair with my book, but the small, black print couldn’t hold my attention. Clips from the assault kept replaying in my mind.

Derek came in and handed me a tuna salad on wheat, a bottle of water, a jar of aspirin, and my ten-dollar bill. “Talked Nick into paying.”

Good boy.

My face blanched as I tried to take small bites of the sandwich.
Bruises? How did I get outside? Who called the police? Who called Derek?
An image of a dwarf flashed through my mind. I was still trying to connect the dots, dots that were clearly in the stratosphere.

Jericho walked in the back door. He wore board shorts and a T-shirt with a surfing logo, his usual. “Hey, Kris.”

“Hey hey.”

“How’re you doin’?” He looked at me more closely.

“Alright.”

“What hap—?”

The side door opened with a screech. Sarah stepped in, saw me, and made a gurgling noise combined with a tiny shriek. Nick had sent her the photos of me, and she was going into heart failure, her face bright red. When she stopped waving her hands around and took a seat, I gave the room a pared-down version of what had happened; he kicked me a few times, cracked me on the head with a glass measuring cup or something like that, and then at some point passed out. It wasn’t really the truth according to my memory, but considering that I was upright and fully functional, it made more sense.

“I think the guy was on something,” I said. “It was almost like he didn’t know where he was, or rather, it was like he was looking for something but didn’t know what. And his eyes weren’t—”

Jericho suddenly sat up straight, his elbow knocking a plastic tumbler off the end table.

“They weren’t right, too glossy … like way shiny.” I finished. “That and he suddenly blacked out.”

Everyone was quiet. Jericho stared at the plastic cup on the floor. I contemplated the right words to put them at ease. Boy Wonder beat me to it.

“If I ever see this guy, I’ll rip his head off, smack the head around, set it on fire, and bring the burning skull to you.” He enacted his words.

My eyes met Derek’s. “That’s really sweet, Nick. Don’t do that.”

“You could’ve been killed or your nose could’ve been broken and be all lopsided. Thank goodness nothing happened to your face.” Sarah pulled out her phone. “But your hair is all reddish brown on one side. I’m so sorry!”

After a short discussion that included the words
emergency
and
innocent victim
, she hung up.

“Who’d you call?” I asked her.

“Ellen at the salon. She’ll take you tomorrow afternoon and fix your color.”

“Does is look that bad?”

“It’s bad.” Nick crushed a soda can and launched it across the room.

Maybe my two-tone hair explained why Jericho had been studying me since he’d first walked in.

I answered a handful more of Nick’s questions about the police and the guy who’d attacked me. For the next half-hour the conversation, thankfully, went off on tangents. Sarah got up to leave.

“Radio silence, Sarah.” I put a finger to my mouth. “You can’t tell anyone in Austin about this. If my brother gets wind he’ll come down here and beat the crap out of me for not fighting back or getting out.” It was and wasn’t a joke. No one found it even slightly funny but everyone was looking at me funny. “You guys are making a bigger deal out of this than it is. Yeah, it was scary, like gonna-die-now scary, but other than my rusty locks, I’m fine. Really.”

“Did you say ‘fine’?” Derek said quietly.

“Yeah, fine.”

He slowly nodded.

I started to collect my things. “I was gonna get a ride from her …” My voice trailed with Sarah’s car that was pulling onto the street.

“I’m going that way if you need a lift,” Jericho offered.

“I’ll take you to get the dragon,” Derek said, watching every move I made.

“I’m not sure I should drive. It’s been a long day, hero, and you’re tired too.” I kissed Derek’s cheek. “Jericho can drop me and I’ll get my car tomorrow.” I zipped my backpack while holding his stare for three seconds. “I know that look, Derek. What’s your deal?”

He put his hand on my arm. “Promise you’ll call if you need something, wanna talk.”

“I will. Everything’s okay.”

His face fell as I said the words and from deep inside came an ugly feeling that I hadn’t experienced in nearly five years.

I went out behind Jericho and got into his truck.

He put it in reverse. “How’re you really doin’?”

“I’m beat.”

“Bad pun.”

“Yes it was.” I slouched in the seat. “Actually, I’m really confused. What I remember isn’t lining up. I should be in the hospital in a body cast. And the medics found me outside. I couldn’t’ve dragged myself anywhere. I was unconscious.” The words came out of my mouth and I didn’t know why I was talking to him about it because I hadn’t even worked through the issue myself.

“You hit your head, right? Got a concussion?”

“I think so.”

“There was this guy in Baja a few years back, got a surfboard fin lodged in the side of his head. He didn’t remember going over the falls or that he swam to shore. He didn’t know why we took him to the ER, and this is the best part—his words—didn’t know why that little baby porpoise wouldn’t take its nose out of his ear. Even when he looked in a mirror, he didn’t see the fin. He saw a tiny porpoise. It was months before he put the whole thing together.” He parked in front of the building. “So be patient with yourself, you know? Head injuries jumble your mind. I hope you feel—” his head snapped left, his eyes big.

“Better? I will, thanks.” I got out and scanned the lot.
What’s he looking at? No one’s around.

Once I was inside, he pulled away. Waiting for the elevator, I glanced out the front door. From the far corner of my eye I thought I saw a big bolt of lightning that was so white it looked blue. I put my arm over my eyes, the bell sounded, and I stepped into the elevator.
I am all kinds of messed up.

I nearly knocked over Sylvia, my attention on the bland, commercial carpet of the hallway. She was wearing a tiny black dress, a red silk scarf draped over one shoulder, and four-inch heels. Her bleach-blond hair was pulled up, her makeup flawless. I rarely got to see the before snapshot of her, was more familiar with the after.

“Oh hey, yeah you. I know you.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “You’re the little elf that did my dishes yesterday and took out the trash. You sorta look like the girl that feeds Bongos.”

I’d done her dishes over a week prior. “Why’d you name him Bongos?”

“You don’t know? Well come on.” She latched my arm to hers and took me to her unit. “We’ll have to hurry. I’m meeting Joel and he’s too good to disappoint, you know what I mean? Everything about him makes my toes curl, the things he says, the way he says them, how he touches—”

“We’d better hustle then.”

Her place was worse than before, the smell of litter box and tobacco heavy in the air. She wandered around the clutter, put a small set of bongo drums on the coffee table, and made a brash meowing sound. The cat came out from under the sofa and hopped up onto the table.
Holy cow.
The animal was actually thumping the bongos with its paws. After thirteen seconds and a wicked little jam, his furry face turned up to her.

She petted him, scratching behind his ears. “I’ve had him since he was a kitten. He’s a talented little bastard, isn’t he? Good kitty!”

“He really is.” I went to the door. “Hey, Sylvia, go easy tonight. I’ll see you later.”

When did my life get so weird? Random lightning, spooky mist, dwarves, cats that play reggae … what’s next? As long as I’m losin’ it, breakdancing leprechauns would be cool.

I walked into our condo and found Sarah in our living room with a bottle of aloe vera in her hands.

I leaned against the wall. “Sylvia’s cat can beat drums. It’s worth the visit, but she might make you drink vodka with her.”

She looked up. “That’s what that noise is?”

“Yep. Hey, I didn’t want to say anything during the rockin’ pity party y’all had for me earlier, but what’s up with the burn? Sunscreen’s your religion.” I scrutinized the area of her face where her sunglasses had been.

“I fell asleep lying out this morning.” Her mouth turned down. “Look at me. I’m a clownfish. I have stripes, Kris. Stripes.”

Her legs were streaked in shades of red, tan, and hot pink. She showed me her stomach, which was worse, and I showed her my bruises to make her feel better.

“That looks ouchy. You’re okay? You’re sick of being asked that, huh?” She resumed rubbing gel into her skin. “So who called Derek? I didn’t get that part.”

“Me either. The only thing I can gather is that I pulled up his number before I passed out and the paramedic called him for me. But why would he’ve done that?”

“Maybe you were in shock and asked him to?”

“Maybe.”
Did I?
I started toward my room. “Don’t mean to be antisocial but …”

“It’s okay. And, Kris, I am really sorry and not just about your hair.”

“Thanks.”

As I walked up the short hall I mulled over the porpoise story. When I was sixteen I had an accident with my skateboard, had hit my head pretty good. At the second of collision I’d thought for sure that I’d broken my entire face and it’d scared the holy crud out of me. But by the day’s end the swelling had gone down, the bleeding had stopped, and there’d only been a cut and some bruising on my cheek. I hadn’t remembered the drive from the skate park to Derek’s house, but did remember seeing stars: concussion. What had happened at The Bakery might’ve been the same kind of thing. Maybe I’d freaked so hard when my attacker had dropped me that fear made the beating seem much worse than it actually was. Maybe the blinding light I’d seen was from my head hitting the floor. I was grasping at straws and knew it, but those were the only logical explanations I could come up with. Except the dwarf—I’d definitely imagined that.

I was happy to see my bed. I’d brought my own pillows, sheets, and blankets because I was leery of sleeping on bedding that had covered countless people before me. Multicolor polka dots on a white background welcomed me, coaxing me to get off my feet. The colors had rinsed out. Red became pink, brown was tan, green was lime and all were juvenile, but I’d spent years under those dots and they made the room feel more like home, which was exactly what I needed.

It was a crummy night’s sleep.

At six, I was ten minutes from waking Sarah and accepting her wrath when I decided it would be easier and more efficient to walk down the beach and roust Derek. Opening the door to leave, I stopped short, a bucket in the hallway blocking my path. My disposition quickly changed from tired and unhappy to gleeful.

So beautiful. But they’re not even in season … Where’d they come from? Wow.

Across the side of the bucket was my name written in marker. Inside of it was a three-foot stalk of bright green globes, leaves tightly closed and very fresh. I took it to the kitchen, cleared a space in the fridge, put the bucket under the sink, and then went downstairs.

“Arnold.” I caught up to our building’s night watchman at the door.