Mindspeak (17 page)

I tucked my banana inside the side
pocket of my satchel and headed for the door.

Some doctor-wannabe was the last
thing I needed in my life. And I had no desire to compete further with a nosy
redhead.

Ten minutes later, I slammed the
door to my dorm room and sat criss-crossed on my bed, wishing I had grabbed the
chocolate chip cookies.

On the floor beside my bed was the
box delivered by Marci Daniels, reporter-extraordinaire. Thanks to Coach
Williams, I hadn’t had even a single moment to open it before the make-up
practice.

I placed the cardboard box in front
of me and began pulling at the tissue paper. Inside was another box. A trinket
box. Very similar to other jewelry boxes and puzzle boxes my father had sent me
throughout my life.

I traced the edges and grooves of
the box with my fingers. A starfish. Made of smooth wood. Cherry maybe. Or
mahogany. I lifted a small lid that covered one portion of the box. Inside was
a silver necklace. A starfish charm and a key were attached. The metal hung
from my fingers as I admired the details of the starfish—made of sterling
silver with the front painted a deep green.

Tucked further in the box, I found
a small note in Dad’s handwriting.

I hope to explain everything to
you someday, but just in case I don’t get that chance, I want you to know you
have all the tools necessary to discover the truth. Love, Dad.

Just in case… Been hearing that a
lot lately.

I stared at Dad’s words and at the
necklace draped across my fingers. Tears stung my cheeks. Dad once called me “his
little sailfish,” which I balked at. He told me the sailfish was the fastest
fish in the ocean, like me in the pool. “Who wants to be known as that ugly
fish?” I had asked him. “Surely, you can think of something cuter than a
sailfish.” I smiled at the memory.

After that, he determined that
since I was his star, he would instead call me his little starfish.

Deciding my room was entirely too
stuffy, I grabbed my dinner and my banana and headed to the roof.

Settled into a dark corner on top
of the girls’ dorm, I opened my dinner. The chicken was cold, the broccoli
mushy. I peeled the skin of the banana while I lay back and stared at the
stars. A cool breeze blew wisps off my forehead.

The door that led to the roof
creaked behind me. I stretched my neck in an attempt to see who approached. All
I saw was a couple holding hands and walking in the opposite direction.

Having wrapped the necklace
multiple times around my wrist, I dangled my arm above my head, admiring how
the silver of the starfish caught the reflection of the moonlight.

“Nice bracelet.”

I sat up. My hand covered my heart.
Jack
. “Why do you keep doing that? You’re like stealth or something.”

He smiled, sitting down beside me.
I refused to look at him and instead threw my banana peel into my dinner box
and shoved it to the side. The things I felt when he was near confused me, and
the time he spent with Briana pissed me off.

“Sorry I scared you,” he said.

“What do you want, Jack?”

“Do I have to want something?”

“Yes. You’re not even allowed up
here after nine, which is in…” I looked at my watch.

“An hour,” he finished for me. “Who
was your visitor today?”

“Why is that any of your business?”

He took a deep breath, letting it
out slowly.

I returned to my lateral position,
staring up at the stars. When Jack didn’t speak, I said, “How’d you even find
me?”

“Apparently, your roommate knows
you pretty well. And, I think she likes me.” I could hear the amusement in his
voice.

“That’s just your over-inflated ego
talking. My roommate is way too trusting.” Something she and I would talk
about.

“She’s concerned about you.” He
poked at my bent elbow, my arm tucked under my head like a pillow. “You going
to tell me who visited, or do I need to call my father? He would probably be
interested in knowing you had a visitor.”

“What makes you think he doesn’t
already know?” Of course I assumed Dr. DeWeese had no idea.

“Why the big secret?”

I sat up and faced him. “I don’t
question who you spend your time with, therefore you have no right to question
me.”

When the corners of his mouth
twitched, the temperature of my blood slowly began to rise.

“Ahh.” He lifted his chin. “That’s
how we’re going to play it? You’re jealous, so you’re going to keep things from
me.”

I stood, grabbed the box of food I’d
barely touched and carried it to the trashcan by the door. Jack’s stare
followed me, his smile never fading.

I stomped back. “I am not jealous,
Jack.” At least I was trying not to look at it like jealousy. “I’m just not
playing whatever game this is you’re playing. I don’t have to tell you
anything.”

He stood, his eyes grabbing mine
with their intensity. “I already told you there is nothing going on between
Briana and me.”

“It doesn’t matter. This has
nothing to do with jealousy. You can see whomever you wish. There’s nothing
going on between you and me, either.”

He stepped closer. So close I could’ve
counted his eyelashes. “If you believe that, then you really are naïve.”

By the way he said naïve, it
sounded like he really meant “emotionally stunted.” My eyes angled toward his
lips. The memory of the kiss by the pool sent prickles galloping down my spine.

The sound of laughter erupted
behind us. I turned and watched the couple who had come up on the roof just
before Jack got there. They left, and Jack and I were alone.

When I faced him again, his face
was still close. His eyes drilled into mine. I wiped the sweat from my palms
onto my pants. I had so many questions. I didn’t know where to begin. If he
didn’t make me so angry...

“You’re going to have to learn to
trust me, Lexi.”

“Based on what?” I asked quickly. “How
you freely give up information that might shed some light on this huge mystery
I call my life?”

“I have no idea how,” he said. His shoulders
relaxed. “There are things I want to tell you, but I’m just now learning many
of the details of a past we seem to share.”

“You say you’re ‘just now learning.’
You mean through The Program?” Why did my skin crawl every time the subject of
The Program came up?

He nodded. “You’re not the only one
who has been kept in the dark.”

“But you know more than you’re
telling me.”

He did not argue with that.

“Do you know who Sandra is?” I
asked.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yes
and no. I mean, I thought I did. She’s a geneticist like our fathers. But you
said my mother mentioned her, and that struck me as odd. So, I asked her about
it.” He shifted uncomfortably.

“And?”

“And… My parents are hiding
information from me about her. I’m working on finding out more.”

I studied his expression. “I’ll
tell you what.” I stepped even closer to him in some small burst of confidence.
“I’ll go on that date with you if…” I had to know who this Sandra-woman was. “…If
you’ll agree to find more information about Sandra.”

A triumphant smile played with his
lips. “Great. I’ll take what I can get. And I’ll see what more I can dig up.
So, you and me. Friday night.”

“Fine. Maybe through the course of
an evening, we’ll find an ounce of trust for each other.” I wanted to trust him
with every part of my being, and I wanted him to trust me with the information
he clung to so tightly. I stared into his deep blues. Then, I shrugged in an
attempt to keep my strength and independence. “Or maybe we won’t. But if we don’t
find a way to trust each other? It’s over. We go our separate ways, and you
leave me alone.”

His smile faded.

I kind of regretted my words
knowing how hard it would be for me to fully trust this son of a geneticist Dad
had hardly spoken of over the past seventeen years. Could I really walk away
from Jack?

Nevertheless, I needed to distance
myself from him and The Program if I thought for one second the people behind
The Program meant me harm. I would not be controlled by whoever was behind this
so-called program. I was just tired from all the secrets surrounding my life.

~~~~

I moved my queen diagonally three
spaces. My eyes circled the room and landed on Ms. Whitmeyer. Hugging a book,
she stared out the window from her wheelchair.

“Check mate.”

I turned back to the game in front
of me. “Mr. Batman.” His real name. “Did you cheat again while I wasn’t looking?”

“Now, Lexi, you know I don’t cheat.
If you’d been paying attention you wouldn’t have made such a silly mistake when
you moved that queen.”

I puffed hair out of my eyes in
amused exasperation. “Mr. Batman, you flirt with all the ladies here, right?”

“Only the single ones, Lexi. I’m a
gentleman. I have my standards.”

“Well, do you have the scoop on Ms.
Whitmeyer?” I lifted my head in the direction of the woman I saw Wolfman
speaking to the day my father died. She turned the page of the paperback lying
across her lap.

Mr. Batman cocked his head sideways
at me, his bushy gray eyebrows twitching. Just when I thought he was going to
scold me for asking him to gossip, he said, “What kind of question is that? Of
course I do.”

Exhaling, I smiled and when he
motioned me closer with his finger, I leaned in.

“She’s a fake.” He flashed his
perfect dentures.

I leaned back, lifted one foot up
onto the chair, and hugged my knee. “Mr. Batman. You’re a nut. What do you
mean, ‘she’s a fake’?”

“I am a nut.” He smiled. “But I’m
completely serious about this. I heard her tell the cops last week that she
hadn’t seen her son in years. He was here that day. Trouble. That son of hers.”

“The cops were here? To talk to Ms.
Whitmeyer? Why?”

“No idea.”

I had an idea. And it had to do
with Dad. And Sandra Whitmeyer. “Does she suffer dementia?”

“I’ve talked to her. She loves that
son of hers, and when she suffered a minor stroke, she started having these
seizures, and he couldn’t take care of her anymore. That’s why she’s here.” He
shook his head. “It’s a shame, really. But as sure as I’m sitting here, she has
her full wits about her.”

Ms. Whitmeyer flipped another page
of her book. As she did, she lifted her head. When our eyes met, a confused
expression passed over her face. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to
say something.

“Lexi,” Mr. Batman said. “Why do
you spend so much time here? Why aren’t you off dating and doing whatever you
teenagers do these days?”

“You know the answer to that.” I
forced my lips to curve upward. “None of my friends know how to play chess.” He
and I laughed, and Mr. Batman pushed himself up with his walker. He placed a
gentle hand on my shoulder, pausing a moment before he shuffled off for an
afternoon nap.

I pushed away from the table and walked
over to Ms. Whitmeyer. A couple of ladies to my right sat on a sofa together
reading Cosmo—How to Pleasure Your Man in Bed—giggling like teenagers.

I glanced down at Ms. Whitmeyer’s
floral robe and powder blue slippers. She smelled of peppermint and Vaseline
lotion. “Hi, Ms. Whitmeyer. How are you today?”

Her face scrunched up, but she
managed a smile. “I thought that was you,” she said.

“My name is Lexi.”

“What? Oh… I… I must be confused.”
She twisted in her wheelchair. Her eyes widened, and her face paled as if the
nurses had announced no more Jell-O would ever be served. The book that had
been draped across her lap slid off into the floor.

I knelt in front of her, and after
picking up the book, I replaced it across her lap. “Are you okay, Ms.
Whitmeyer? Can I get you something?”

“No, thank you, dear.” She reached
a shaky hand and grabbed mine. “Forgive me. For a minute there I thought you
were someone else. You have the most beautiful green eyes, just like hers.”

“Thank you, ma’am, but… like whose?”

“Oh, never mind, child.”

I let it go for now. “Has your son
been to visit you?” That sounded smoother in my head.

“Oh, yes.” She smiled. “He was here
last week. He comes at least once a week. Have you met my Seth?”

“Yes, ma’am. I believe I have had
the pleasure.” A real charmer, that Seth. “Actually, I’d like to talk to him.
Do you know how I can get a hold of him?”

“Oh… dear… I have his number
somewhere.” She started twisting and turning again. “But he’ll come this
Thursday. He always comes right after his shift, at six p.m.”

A nurse approached and placed her
hands on the back of the wheelchair. “It’s time for Mrs. Whitmeyer’s bath.”

“Oh, okay.” I nodded. “It was nice
to talk to you.”

“It was lovely to speak to you,
dear.”

The nurse wheeled Mrs. Whitmeyer
away. She glanced over her shoulder at me twice before disappearing around the
corner. “Exactly who are you, Seth?” I whispered to myself. “And how are you
and your mom related to Sandra?”

~~~~

I spread newspaper clippings and
magazine articles about my father’s and Dr. DeWeese’s research across a blanket
on the floor of Gram’s room. No mention of a Sandra Whitmeyer in the articles I
had.

How much did Jack really know? I
rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. I could go out on this date with
him. What price was I willing to pay for the truths I suspected he was keeping
from me? My heart? There was no denying that he reached parts of me I wanted to
protect.

Gram knitted a scarf or shawl or
something in her chair and hummed a familiar tune from my childhood. Afternoon
sun filtered through the blinds, and the aroma from the lilies that Jack sent
masked the faint smell of antibacterial cleaner that pervaded the nursing home
hallways and rooms.