Painless (11 page)

Chapter 25

I’m dreaming and I missed all the good parts, or I’ve died and gone somewhere else. Water washes over me from my head to toes. I wipe my face and open my eyes. Luna’s shaking and holding a bucket.

I’m not dreaming. I’m still in the lounge chair by the pool. “What’s going on?” I ask.

“We fell asleep. You’ve been in the heat for hours, and you could be confused. It’s hot out here. Get into the water.”

But it’s dawn, and the normal July temperature at night is seventy-five degrees. Maybe I am confused. I mean, I never know. If a person could know, they’d start acting not confused. I get up and jump into the pool. My brain’s a little foggy, so I only hang on to the edge and go underwater a few times. Then I climb out and dry off.

I’m fine. “What time is it?” I ask.

“Six thirty.”

I smile at her. “Thanks for waking me,” I say.

“You’re okay?”

“Yes.”

“I overreacted.”

“Not really,” I say.

“That’s just great,” Luna says. She wheels around and picks up the empty drink cans, the empty popcorn bowl, and the blanket. She heads inside.

My grandmother would’ve been calling the paramedics, and Veronica would have been in the driveway waiting to wave them down. That’s overreacting.

I go into the kitchen. Luna’s not there, but I can hear water running. I go to my room, change into dry clothes, lie down, and fall asleep.

My watch beeps me awake.

I do my routine, and on the way to the kitchen I hear Veronica and Luna laughing.

“Hey,” I say, walking into the kitchen kind of wondering what Veronica thought when she arrived and Luna was here. I’m kind of embarrassed.

“I was telling Luna to always expect the unexpected around here.” Veronica smiles at Luna. “One morning when I came to work, the air-conditioning unit had quit working, and his grandmother hadn’t noticed. Temperature was over eighty,” she says. “David was practically in a coma. That was when he was much younger, and back then his temperature would spike quicker.”

“What did you do?” Luna asks.

“We threw David into the bathtub and called to have the air conditioner repaired.” Veronica laughs.

Luna cracks a smile.

“There is always something happening around here,” Veronica says.

Because Nana and Veronica would overreact, I think.

Veronica places her cup into the sink and turns toward me. “Let me know if your temperature gets above a hundred and two. I’ve got work to do.”

I check my watch. “My temperature’s only ninety-nine.” Actually my temperature is a couple of degrees higher, but it isn’t at the danger level. “I’m taking Luna to pick up her car. Is that fine with you?” I ask Veronica.

“If you’re sure you’re okay.”

“I am.”

A moment later, I hear the vacuum cleaner roar to life in another room.

Luna’s writing in a notebook.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Making a list of what’s dangerous for you.”

I grin. “Ironing boards,” I say.

“What?”

“Ironing boards. Have you ever read
This Hurts
?”

She shakes her head and keeps writing. I hope she’s not writing “ironing boards.”

“It’s a play about a guy who doesn’t feel pain. He keeps a list of what hurts. He’s sitting in a laundry room when he gets hit with an ironing board, and he adds that to his list. Then he has trouble deciding if ironing boards are dangerous or if he should only be afraid of them.” I shrug. “Anything can be dangerous to anybody.”

“This is documenting number of hours outside, your body temperature, and the outside temperature.”

“More research,” I say.

“You’ll be able to see on paper if you’re making progress. You need to keep track.”

I shrug. “I don’t want to. I rather not know,” I say.

“Let’s go pick up my car,” she says, sounding annoyed.

I get the car keys from the spider plant. I don’t know why I still keep them there.

On the way to the auto repair place, I’m trying to think of something we could do today. I wish we could go on a hike or rafting down the river.

We’re told the car won’t be ready for an hour. We sit shoulder to shoulder in plastic chairs in the auto-repair waiting room. I probably should’ve skipped a chair and sat in the next chair, but somebody was already in it. A country love song is playing on the radio. It’s about this guy who loved this girl until he died, but she never loved him back. You’d think she’d have cared a little. Lately I’ve been thinking it would be wondrous to be loved.

Luna gets paper from her notebook, and we play Hangman for a while.

Then she takes out a calendar and looks at it. From the look on her face, you’d think she was reading the worst book ever.

I stretch out my legs. Waiting in an auto repair shop and inhaling oily smells is better than I ever imagined it could be. There’s no place else I want to go, no other person I’d rather be with.

“What all are you having done to your car?” I ask.

She looks up from her notebook. “Just getting the radiator fixed. It’ll get me to where I’m going.”

“To the Magic Kingdom.”

“I haven’t decided yet. Have you ever been?”

“No.”

“It’s hot and crowded.”

“And magical.”

“It was when my parents took me years ago,” she says. “They acted like little kids.”

“I’ll have to visit you.”

“Definitely, if I go there.”

Then my cell phone rings. “What’s taking you so long?” Veronica asks.

I sigh. “We have to wait for the car. It won’t be much longer.”

Sometimes it’s like I’m on a long rope, and it’s getting tighter around my neck.

“I’ve been worried to death,” Veronica says. “All you need to do is call me when you’re late and check in with me.” She’s out of breath.

This is how I know she cares. “Sorry,” I say. “I’ll be home soon.”

When Luna’s name is called, I go to the counter with her and offer to pay.

She shakes her head. “You are wonderful, but no thanks.”

It’s getting dark outside, and I’m sitting looking out the front window. There’s nothing moving around. I wish I could look out and see more.

Veronica left a few hours ago.

I asked Luna if she wanted to do something today, and she said she had to deep clean her apartment, paint, and fix some holes so she’d get her deposit back.

I go to the top of the stairs and slide down the banister like I used to do when I was a kid. It’s kinda fun. At the bottom I hear knocking. I tiptoe to the front door and look out the peephole, my heart pounding.

I see Cameron and open the door. He’s smiling, and Scruffy’s wagging his tail. “I have good news. Scruffy’s a certified service dog now, and I have a job at the pet store. I can take him to work with me.”

“That was quick,” I say.

“I hired a trainer for service dogs, and then Scruffy passed the test right away with flying colors. I’m here to take you out to celebrate at Maxwell’s Pub. It’s a hole in the wall, but the food is good.”

“That’s terrific,” I say.

“Spencer and Marcello are meeting us there,” he says. “I tried to call, but you didn’t answer.”

I check my pocket. “Be right back,” I say and head to the kitchen. My wallet and cell are on the counter where I left them.

I text Luna.

Going to Maxwell’s Pub. Want to meet me there?

At first, the hostess at the door says dogs aren’t allowed, but Cameron takes Scruffy’s certificate out of his pocket. The hostess reads it.

“I don’t know,” she says.

I explain about the Americans with Disabilities Act. Nana made me learn about it once. She figured I would need to know, even if I didn’t end up in a wheelchair.

The hostess talks to a manager, and I see her nod. She shows us to a table in the back close to the bathrooms.

It’s the first time I’ve been in a real bar. I’ve always wanted to go to a bar.

Cameron tells me to order him a beer. He’s going to the bathroom. “What if they ask for an ID?” I ask.

“Then wait for me, but they usually don’t,” he says and wheels away with Scruffy at his side.

I turn my head. From where I am, I can see about a dozen booths filled with people.

“Can I get you something to drink?” the waitress asks without looking at me.

I look down. “Beer,” I say.

“What kind?”

“What kind do you have?”

She lists about six kinds. I choose the first.

“You want the twenty-four ounce?”

“The regular size,” I say. “I’d like water too.”

Then Spencer and Marcello arrive and order Cokes. I turn and glance toward the door, hoping Luna’s coming too. I don’t see her. Cameron returns and orders a Bud before I can say I already ordered his.

I guess I’ll drink the beer.

“Guess what?” Cameron says. “My little brother’s coming to live with me.”

“How old is he?” Spencer asks.

“Twelve. I figure he’s better off with me than with my aunt now that I’m back on my feet.” He taps the armrest of his wheelchair and grins.

“It may take him a while to get used to it,” I say.

“He’ll have his own room and stuff. At my aunt’s he has to share a room with his two cousins.”

It took me forever to adjust to living with my grandparents, but I kept expecting my dad to show up. Maybe I need to learn how not to worry, but planning and thinking ahead is part of what’s kept me alive.

The waitress brings our drinks, and I order nachos. I wonder if I’d get a hangover and maybe a headache if I drank a lot of alcohol. As I take a sip, the beer reminds me of the time I had to drink a gallon of gross stuff before having x-rays. I gagged a lot.

Cameron reaches across the table and grabs my beer. “I’ll take this,” he says. “You’re too young, and you are the designated driver.”

Then I get a text message from Luna.

I can’t meet you. Painting.

I write
Come over later if you want to. I have to write thank-you notes.

The waitress brings our food. My nachos are a great change from the cereal I usually have. We talk, laugh, and joke around, but Marcello sits silently, the way he usually does.

After we eat, Spencer and Marcello play darts. I’d play too, but I’d probably miss the dart board and stab somebody.

Cameron and I talk about video games his brother would like, and I say I have a bunch he can borrow. Books and movies too. It seems like I have everything, but I lost what matters the most. My mom and dad, Nana, maybe Luna.

I’m beginning to think I’m only somebody Luna knows, somebody she’s going to leave behind and forget about quickly. Why shouldn’t she? She doesn’t even call her parents much.

Cameron’s still talking about his brother.

“I don’t know him anymore,” Cameron says. “He was a little kid when our parents died and I enlisted.” He takes a long drink. “After I was injured, I thought my life was over. The pain totally consumed me, and my aunt said he needed to be in a stable environment. She was right at the time, but now I need to reconnect with my brother. He can go back to my aunt’s house if he doesn’t want to live with me.”

I admit, if my mother and father showed up right now and asked me to go with them, I would, not knowing if I’d be jumping into a frying pan. I wouldn’t have gone with either of them a month or two ago. Plus, Nana or Joe would’ve stopped me.

“Your brother’s really lucky,” I say. “Really lucky.”

Cameron laughs, but for the first time I notice he has tears in his eyes. “My brother thinks I’m some sort of hero. I’m not. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Why did you enlist?”

He takes a drink. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. It was going to be my career. I wanted to save the world.”

And now he’s going to be working at a pet store, maybe for the rest of his life. I think it would be great to work at a pet store, but not the kind that sells puppies.

“How’s Luna?” Cameron asks.

“I see her sometimes,” I say. “And I asked her to come tonight, but she’s painting. She’s moving to Florida or Texas soon.”

“I saw her one day,” he says. “I had to have some blood drawn, and she was in the lab waiting room. She only said she was waiting for a friend, but after I had my blood drawn, I heard her name called.”

I shrug. “She’s a private person,” I say. “It took a while before she’d talk to me about anything but my body.”

“Your body?”

“You know, stuff like ‘How’s your temperature?’ She was my personal assistant then, so we really don’t have a close relationship.”

Cameron’s shaking his head.

“I said that the wrong way,” I say.

“You didn’t, actually. It’s just weird,” Cameron says. “Don’t worry. One of these days you’ll meet somebody else and fall in love. My mother and father didn’t meet and get married until they were in their thirties.”

I nod and smile. He could’ve given me advice instead of telling me to meet someone else. I don’t want to meet someone else. It’s painful when you know it’ll end.

Chapter 26

Sunday I go into the study and get back to writing the thank-you cards. That way I won’t daydream about Luna. If I started a list of things that are dangerous, I’d put her name on it.

It takes me an hour to finish the thank-you cards, and I’m relieved.

I pick up the letter from the detective and read it again.

I have more questions than answers. What did Joe say to Stanley? Did he contact Carlee? Did Stanley meet with Carlee? Did she ask about me first? Did Carlee say anything about my dad? Why didn’t Joe give me details? Why did she change her name? Why don’t I just find out for myself?

I Google the address of the detective. His office is not far from the town square. I also Google Ruby’s address.

The next morning I swim early, get dressed for the day, and head downstairs. I go into the study and get a pad of paper and a pen. I write a note.

“I’m going out,” I tell Veronica.

“Did you finish the thank-you notes?”

She’s sounding like Nana. “I have,” I say and hold them up. “I’m taking then to the post office.”

This is my good excuse to do some investigating.

“Good,” she says. “You even have stamps on the cards.”

I found them when I was snooping.

“You’re learning,” she says.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say.

Luckily, the post office is on Waterly Square, and STP Investigations is inside an old house less than a quarter mile from the square.

I drop the thank-you cards in an outside mailbox at the post office and head to STP. I pull into the driveway of the agency and park behind a black van. Getting out of the car, I hear dogs barking and then see three little mutts at the back fence.

A bell chimes when I walk in. Nobody’s in the front room. I see a desk, a computer, a pot of coffee, and a bouquet of dead roses.

A man comes into the room. He’s wearing shorts and a T-shirt. “Hello,” he says, sticking out a hand for me to shake. I’m not big on handshakes, but I do it anyway.

“I’m Stanley Peacock,” he says.

“Hi, I’m David Hart.”

“I recognize you,” he says. “I had a feeling you’d show up here one day.”

“I wanted to ask a few questions about Carlee Hart.”

“That information is confidential.”

“I have the right to know,” I say, not feeling like a helpless kid for once. “And I’ve been searching for her and my father for most of my life. Why should it matter what you tell me at this point? Joe’s fired you, right?”

“He said he didn’t need my services any longer.”

“I might,” I say. “Not today or tomorrow but one day. I’m not giving up on finding my parents.”

“I told Joe all I could find out.” Stanley opens a desk drawer. “I only know she’s getting married from checking her trash.” He hands me a wedding invitation, torn halfway down the middle. “She evidently threw this one away because of its condition. Somebody probably used a knife to open the box.”

I start taking notes. “But you talked to her and said Joe was looking for her?”

“She said she didn’t want any contact with Joe, Mrs. Hart, or you.”

“Can I keep the wedding invitation?” I ask.

“Suppose so. Joe didn’t want it.”

“Have you ever found out anything about my father, James Hart?”

“No. Joe asked me to stop after Mrs. Hart died,” Stanley says. “I think he had to have changed his name too, or he’s deceased.”

“After James Hart disappeared, a detective was hired to look for him,” I say. “Was it you?”

“I’m not that old. My dad could’ve been hired, but some of his files are gone. When he died, my mother got rid of everything she thought was unimportant,” he says. “But I do have a newspaper article from five years ago. I emailed Joe a copy.” He opens the folder and pulls out a yellowed paper.

It’s a newspaper article in the
Pine Branch Gazette
from five years ago.

“I’ve searched online,” I say. “Never found anything.”

“The newspaper folded,” he says. “A neighbor had initially reported him missing. She called your grandmother a few years ago asking if she’d heard from him. Your grandmother gave Joe her number, and I followed up.”

I read the article.

Police are asking for help in finding James Hart, a local man reported missing. Sam Tink, manager of Blue Water Apartments, remembers last seeing Hart around 8 a.m. a week ago. “He had his head down and was getting into his car, but that wasn’t unusual. I rarely saw him unless he was paying his rent, and he always paid a couple of months in advance. He took frequent trips.”

“There is no evidence of foul play,” an investigator said. “We checked Hart’s apartment, and it appears he had moved. He is an adult, and deciding to move or disappear is not a crime.”

At the end of the article is a phone number for anyone with information to call. I scribble down
Pine Branch
,
Blue Water
, and
Sam Tink
.

If I disappeared, people would say, he went swimming as usual. He stayed out of the sun. He was related to Dracula. He was a dummy. There were no calls on his cell phone. He ate, played video games, and went to bed. He wasn’t depressed. He was awkward. He was happy. He was concerned. He didn’t care about anything. He was a daredevil. He was always careful. He wouldn’t hurt himself. He’d hurt himself without knowing it. He resented his grandmother for driving him crazy.

“I called the number,” Stanley says. “The investigation was closed. I also called Sam Tink at the Blue Water Apartments. He didn’t recall anything new. Nor did Evelyn Winters, the neighbor who reported James missing.”

I run my finger down the wedding invitation. “Did you go see Sam Tink or Evelyn Winters?”

“No,” he says. “Evelyn Winters asked not to be bothered anymore.”

Looks like I’m going on a road trip this weekend. I add her name to my list. “Did you find out anything else?”

“I talked to a cousin of your grandmother’s, but she said she didn’t know anything.”

That would be Ruby. I’m going there anyway, but I don’t plan on talking to her.

I crank the car. I bet Ruby would have some answers if I could get the courage up to talk to her, but I have a feeling she wouldn’t tell me anything. She hates me. I’m not going to think about her. It takes too much energy, and my brain’s running low on adrenaline.

I remember a joke I heard once.

How many golden retrievers does it take to change a lightbulb?

The sun is up, the sky is blue, and
you’re worrying about changing a lightbulb when there’s grass to roll around in?

I don’t want to do this. It’s a great day, and I have plans to make.

An hour later, I stop in front of a yellow house with a matching picket fence. The curtains are closed, and the driveway’s empty. I’m scared to get out of the car so I wait for a few minutes. Then I grab the paper with the note I’d written earlier.

I take a deep breath and get out of the car. I stand facing the house, and I wonder if anybody’s watching me.

I ring the doorbell. One time. Two times. Finally the door inches open, but I can’t see much. A chain lock keeps the door from opening all the way.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Ruby says.

I try to hand her the note. She starts to shut the door. At the same time, my fingers get stuck in the door frame. I push the door a little and move my hand.

Ruby slams the door shut.

“I’m going,” I call out. “I won’t bother you again.” I stick the note into the door frame. I should’ve done that in the first place.

My finger looks okay. It’s not bleeding. It kills me inside that she shut the door on my fingers on purpose.

When I look up, I see a police vehicle pulling up behind my car. Holy crap. I walk to the curb.

“You’re not allowed to park on the street,” he says.

I didn’t know that. “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t see a sign.” My voice cracks.

He points to one that’s leaning backward like somebody ran over it. He asks to see my license, registration, and proof of insurance.

I get the stuff out of the glove compartment and show him my license. I figure it must be really hot because he’s sweating.

“Wait in the car,” he says.

I clear my throat. “I have a condition,” I say. “And because of it, I get heat stroke quickly. Can I turn on the air conditioner?”

“No.”

I used to have a medical alert bracelet, but there was no reason to wear it when I didn’t go anywhere.

He goes back to his car.

I look around and toward the house. Somebody’s looking out the window. I’m pretty sure I made a big mistake, and Ruby called the police.

Joe was right about my bad judgment.

Three people are standing on the corner looking this way. I stare straight ahead and wish I could disappear. If Joe finds out about this, I’ll have a strike against me. I’m not sure what I did that was so bad. It’s not like I’m stalking her or anything. I bet nothing like this would ever happen to Spencer or Luna or Joe.

The officer returns.

“I’m not going to give you a ticket this time, but I better not catch you parking on the street again.”

“Thank you,” I say. Thank goodness I can’t cry.

“Don’t come back here.”

Why would he say that if Ruby hadn’t called the police?

“I won’t.” I don’t need to come here again. I crank the motor and turn on the air. As I’m pulling away, the officer heads toward Ruby’s front door. Now I’m glad I came. I think I have closure. I think about what I’d written to Ruby.

I’m sorry I hurt your grandson.

When I get home, Veronica’s mopping the kitchen. You’d think the floor would stay clean with hardly anybody walking on it. She stops what she’s doing and tells me not to track up the wet floor.

For some reason I need to tell somebody what happened.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I understand, but Ruby’s as hardheaded as a concrete block. Your grandmother tried to talk to her a couple of times a long time ago, but Ruby gave her a piece of her mind. She’s unforgiving.”

“What’d she say?”

“I wasn’t there.” Veronica squeezes dirty water from the mop into a bucket. “What happened to your finger?”

I tell her, and she makes a splint for my finger from a tongue blade and gauze. “You’re up to something,” she says at last. “You know you can tell me.”

“And you know because I went to see Ruby?”

Veronica shakes her head. “You left the directions open on your laptop to the detective’s office.” She washes her hands. “I’ll drop your suit off at the cleaners on the way home.” She wipes her hands with a paper towel. “Just in case you need it.”