The Long Wait for Tomorrow (35 page)
Read The Long Wait for Tomorrow Online
Authors: Joaquin Dorfman
Patrick picked it up.
Turned it around in his hands, trying to determine which end was which.
“Honestly,” Jenna insisted. “What’s stopping you?”
“I don’t feel right saying this…. Not now, it’s not the right time …”
“Then answer my question…. Is it because of me?”
Patrick looked down into what little he could see of his coffee. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll admit, maybe there’s something happening here …,” she told him. Mournfully unemotional, her voice didn’t match the words. “You and I, us two, I mean. Maybe there’s something but … We’re not going to figure it out tonight. Maybe not for a long time, so Patrick, just—”
The phone rang in a sudden surprise attack.
The two of them jumped, chairs scuffing the floor.
They waited for the confirmation of a follow-up ring.
There it was, and now neither one of them could bring themselves to answer.
“You still want me to open it?” Patrick asked, too apprehensive to be truly snide.
From the living room, they heard Jenna’s father rise from the couch and step around the small wood-framed coffee table. He picked up the phone just before the answering machine could report for duty.
“Hello?”
Patrick strained his ears with unrealistic hopes of picking up the voice on the other end.
“Yes, I’m Al, Jenna’s father….” He coughed. “Yes, we met once. Would you like to talk to your son? … Oh, you’re
Kelly’s
parents. Never mind, I can guarantee you we haven’t met. How is Kelly …?”
In the silence that followed, Jenna put her hands together. Head bowed in a silent prayer.
Patrick watched her, unable to surrender just yet.
“Are you sure you don’t want to …” Al’s shrugging shoulders could be heard in his voice: “All right, if you want, I’ll tell them…. No, please don’t call back tonight.”
Then the muted beep of the phone turning off.
Al shuffled into the kitchen. In the wan light of the television, his bathrobe had the appearance of a prehistoric animal pelt. His face was hidden, but the disillusionment in his words made eyesight an undesirable afterthought.
“They found Edmund’s gun, and Kelly’s being released.”
In the time it took for Patrick to even consider why such somber tones for such good news, Al shut it all down.
“His parents are driving him to Saint Sebastian Mental Hospital.”
Patrick looked over at Jenna.
Watched as her hands parted slowly, and spread out along the edges of the table.
“Just in case, is what they said. Just in case they missed something, just in case the police call him back in, and that leads to an actual arrest this time around. They said it would help to have him diagnosed as not being of sound mind … just in case.”
“Kelly’s not crazy …,” Patrick said. Dazed, not comprehending that convincing Al would solve absolutely nothing. “Kelly is
not crazy.
Where were
my
parents in all of this?”
“It was their idea.”
Patrick felt the air rush out of him. If he hadn’t been sitting down, there was no question he would have collapsed right there on the kitchen floor.
“My parents did this?”
“Honey?” Al asked, head moving slightly to the left. “Are you all right?”
With her head still bowed, Jenna whispered yes.
“We’ll find out more in the morning,” Al told them. “In the meantime, I have to get to bed. Patrick, please stay here tonight. Or for as long as you like,” he added, understanding that it might be a good while before he met Patrick’s parents again.
“Do you think Kelly’s crazy?” Patrick asked, voice sinking.
“I think you’re all crazy,” Al said sternly. “But please don’t forget that my daughter and her friend Patrick were almost killed tonight. I’m an adult, and this is my job. So don’t take it personal … I’m going to bed.” Al turned, rubbing his head. “Be sure and clean up before doing the same.”
His footsteps faded to the back of the house.
“Patrick?”
Patrick nodded, though he wasn’t sure if Jenna would pick up on it.
“Come on,” she said quietly. “Just open the letter.”
With air trembling past his swollen lips, Patrick held the envelope before his face, searching for the edge before simply
ripping into it. No point in preserving the integrity of the letter; it was just a piece of paper. Just a piece of paper with another fork in the road, and Patrick gnashed his teeth as he finally managed to tear the thing wide open.
Chest heaving, he held the mutilated letter before his eyes.
“The light switch is on the wall behind you,” Jenna said.
Patrick turned, felt along the wall, and caught hold of the protruding nub.
The fluorescent overheads burned into his retinas, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the glaring white wall before him. With one eye open, he swiveled around, back to the table. Before he could scan the letter for the only sentence that mattered, he froze.
It was the first time in hours that he’d gotten a good look at Jenna.
Her hair was a nest of brambles, falling woefully over almond eyes that had the appearance of having drooped at the ends, so much that he expected them to slowly slide down along her ashen cheeks. Her hands and elbows were bruised and scraped. The earlier rainfall had stretched her clothes out. She appeared almost shapeless under her wrinkled blue-striped shirt. Lips pressed together in a thin purple line.
“You look like a different person,” Patrick said.
“You’re no prize, either,” she informed him.
He lowered his eyes to see whether Juilliard agreed with her.
The time was now 3:25.
ore coffee?”
“Yeah. I like this blend, it’s good.”
“Like you’d know good coffee from a bucket of tar, Patrick.”
“I’m getting the hang of it, Al…. I am getting the hang of it.”
It was bright outside. Dynamite bright, even through the kitchen windows. A wide sheath of light cut through the room, spotlight on the linoleum floor. Felt as though it was the source of all warmth that morning. Good warm. Cozy and soft, the welcoming embrace of a well-worn comforter.
Patrick took a sip of his coffee.
Jenna’s father did the same. He stared over the rim of his cup, raised his eyebrows.
“What?” Patrick asked, putting down his mug.
Al didn’t answer all at once.
The radio was tuned to NPR, news at the top of the hour. Impartial reports of suicide bombers in Iraq. Numbers without names. It was an ugly thing, enjoying a cup of coffee half a world away from the other half of the world.
“You hear that?” Al asked him.
“The news?”
“Guess it goes to show …,” he said.
“Goes to show what?” Patrick asked, dipping back into his coffee.
“And here I sit, on my daughter’s graduation day …” Al gave his Saturday morning scruff a once-over with his hand. “I’m so very proud of her, Patrick.”
“You’ve got every right.”
“And I guess it doesn’t mean much … The ceremony, I mean. The ceremony doesn’t really mean that much, but along with all these things … Happy, sad, proud, worried. I don’t know, maybe I just kind of thought I’d be watching her walk across that stage. Cap, gown, the whole nine, right?”
The news went local, reports of another scorcher all across Verona.
“Am I being selfish?” Al asked.
“Not without reason,” Patrick assured him. “And I’m sorry if our decision’s hurt you.”
“Nah … It’s not hurt. Thing is, it makes more sense to me than that whole graduation nonsense. I think it’s admirable. I’m proud of both you two. Guess there’s no stopping reflex, though.”
“Ain’t that the sad truth….”
Al motioned to a white envelope sitting alongside Patrick’s coffee. “Been meaning to ask …”
“My homeroom teacher dropped it off a few days ago. It’s for Kelly, care of me.”
“How are your parents?”
“They are how they are.”
“Mmm.”
Patrick caught sight of white ceramic peeking through the thin layer of coffee. It was his turn, and he walked over to the coffeemaker, dislodged the pot. He poured them both a fresh cup, wondering what the hell he was thinking that one morning, knocking the coffee out of Kelly’s hand.
Busting up his parents’ collection of rare crystalware.
Patrick waited for his angels to comment, but they were content with their silence.
He sat back down, looked at Al.
Al smiled at him.
Patrick smiled back.
Jenna popped her head around the corner. Her hair was damp, stuck together in thick stalks.
“Just about ready to go,” she informed Patrick.
“OK,” Patrick told her.
She vanished, back from whence she came.
“You two will keep in touch,” Al said with all the assurance of a casual prophet, decked out in sweatpants and a Rolling Stones T-shirt. “Can’t stop something like that.”
“We’ve still got the summer,” Patrick reminded him.
“It’ll go by fast…. I dare you to blink, it’ll go by that fast.”
Patrick blinked.
Al laughed, deep lines forming parentheticals around his smile.
Then Jenna was standing at the entrance. Dressed in jeans and a sunflower blouse. Purse hanging over her shoulder, signaling their present departure.
The men stood up, leaving their coffee behind.
Patrick picked up the envelope while Al walked over and hugged his daughter. Blessed her forehead with a kiss.
“Proud of you, baby,” he said.
“I know, Dad.” Jenna squeezed him tightly, eyes closed.
“It’s been one crazy, stupid trip, hasn’t it?”
“It has.”
Al turned and shook Patrick’s hand. “I’ll see you both later. We’ll go grab some dinner.”
Patrick nodded.
He reached into his jeans and pulled out the car keys.
“Let’s go,” he told Jenna, heading for the door as the radio did what it could to put their life in context: “June seventh, nine-forty-five a.m., here on NPR.”
The drive took the good part of an hour.
They spent the ride in silence. Neither one moved to speak or turn on the radio. There was nothing uncomfortable about it. Meditating along the winding road, sun still low, shade from surrounding trees keeping it comfortable.
They reached the gates of Saint Sebastian at eleven. A security guard signed them in, sent them in the proper direction. They parked in a near-empty lot, the only ones apart from a long line of employee cars stationed near the front of the estate.
At a glance, the grounds looked no different from a slice of campus life.
The inside proved to be just as unremarkable.
There was no doubt the place had been remodeled several times since the 1800s, but apart from casual hints of bygone
infrastructure, it was like any other hospital. A front desk, painted white, matched the uniform of the attending nurse.
“We’re here to see Kelly McDermott,” Patrick told her.
Wondering if he should add anything about what landed him in there.
“OK,” she said pleasantly enough, handing them a clipboard.
As they filled in their information, the nurse flagged a passing doctor. A very
doctor-looking
doctor, tall and balding. He wore wire-rimmed spectacles and sported a beard that screamed
psychoanalyst.
“Oh good.” He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his nose. “I’m Dr. Sandler.”
“Please empty all personal items,” the nurse instructed, plunking two plastic bins onto the counter.
They didn’t have much, and by the time they were done, the nurse had already finished filling out their guest passes. She then checked out their various belongings, decided there was nothing there of any worry to the hospital, and handed it all back.
“He’s been looking forward to this,” Dr. Sandler told them.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Patrick said, unsure if this was actually a compliment.
“You look a bit like Oliver Sacks,” Jenna told him.
“I’m no Oliver Sacks,” the doctor said, eye hinting that, yes, he knew this was where he was supposed to smile. “Thank you, though.”
Dr. Sandler led them to a thick, heavy-looking door.
Patrick was expecting him to remove a key ring from his belt, maybe undo a few locks. This wasn’t the case, and he simply opened it, doing a gentleman’s job of ushering them through.
After that, it was down a casually populated hallway and under a large archway.
Patrick marveled at how ordinary everything seemed.
It was, basically, a large recreation room. Long windows allowing for generous amounts of sunlight. Patients dressed in what appeared to be everyday clothing, not a straitjacket in sight. Board games abounded, paper and crayons spread out amongst the collection of plastic tables, plastic chairs.
Before any of the details could sink in, Patrick spied Kelly McDermott. He was seated at a table. By himself, by the window. Dressed in jeans and a white shirt. Hands folded, calm as the light pooling on the table before him.
It was the first time Patrick had seen him, really seen him, since that last day at his parents’ house.
Barely a month ago.
He felt Jenna take in a breath, filled with the same compulsion to rush forward. Grab hold of Kelly and never let go. Absurd thoughts of shuffling him out of the hospital in hopes that nobody would notice a six-legged human composite drifting past the front desk.
Instead, they walked over with the slow and expectant steps of a child face to face with its very own pony. Each one petrified of getting a blank, sedated stare upon saying his name.
“Hey, guys,” Kelly said, looking up with a soft smile. “They said you’d be coming by.”
He rose from his seat, and they did all fall into that three-pronged embrace.
Six eyes, all closed tight.
Kelly was the first to break away.
He took a look at them, saw that Jenna had already sprung a leak. He reached out and brushed the tear with his thumb. Sighed and shook his head with a proud smile.
“Shouldn’t you two be graduating right about now?”
“It’s just a game,” Patrick said, smiling to the fullest extent that he remembered how.
“Let’s sit.”
They did, and Patrick noticed a blank sheet of paper, paired with a single red crayon.
“What have we got here, Kelly?” he asked casually.
“Just wanted to show you guys something,” Kelly replied. “All in good time, though.”
They looked at each other for a bit, unsure how to move forward.
Patrick pulled out the letter from his pocket. “This is from Bill.”
“Neat,” Kelly said, taking the envelope and setting it aside.
“You going to open it?”
“I think I’ll wait on that.” Kelly gave Patrick a knowing look. “You know how that can be.”
“I hear you.”
“How are your parents?” Kelly asked.
“Fine, I guess …” Patrick shrugged. “I’ve been staying at Jenna’s ever since that night.”
Kelly nodded, keeping his approval right there in the middle.
“How’s your dad?” Kelly asked Jenna.
“He’s good.”
“They treating you all right in here?” Patrick asked awkwardly.
“Well …,” Kelly sighed, moving his hands over the surface of the table. “Haven’t put me on any serious meds yet. Some stuff to help me sleep every now and then … So I finally have slept.”
Jenna swallowed. “So … you still in there, Kelly?”
“I thought about lying to you guys,” Kelly said matter-of-factly. “Crossed my mind while I was sitting here, before you showed up. Just for a second, I thought I’d let you all enjoy the … shared sanity that the outside world is privy to. But what’s the use, I tried that once before, didn’t I?”
Patrick and Jenna smiled slightly, remembering Kelly’s ludicrous attempts to refashion himself from time-traveling madman to all-American jock.
“Want to see something fun, Jenna?” Kelly asked with a sly and tired grin.
Jenna nodded softly. “Sure.”
“Say the first thing that comes into your head. Doesn’t matter how ridiculous.”
“Uh …” Jenna tried clearing her thoughts. “Elephants don’t—”
“—happen quite like they used to
,” Kelly finished in tandem with her. Before anyone could say anything, he kept right on.
“To think there was a time when that kind of thing actually surprised us … Yeah, it’s been happening more and more lately. Scares the bejeezus out of the doctors.”
Kelly laughed, even as Patrick and Jenna remained anchored in worried uncertainty.
“I’m OK…,” Kelly assured them. “I’ve just had a bit of time to think. A lot of time to think, really. And I kind of understand it all now. That little trick I just pulled turns out to be the key to everything.”
“Kelly …” Patrick glanced around, trying not to imagine him as another one of these wandering inmates. “What do you mean?”
“Think about it,” Kelly told them. “All those times, it wasn’t as though I was finishing someone’s sentences. It’s like that paradox theory. If I finish someone’s sentence because I know they’re going to say it … well, then I stop them from saying it, so how could I have ever known they were going to say it? It’s Abraham Lincoln at Ford’s Theatre, all over again.”
Patrick felt his mouth go dry.
“Nope,” Kelly continued. “All those times, I was saying those things at the
exact same time.
Kind of stands to reason, now that it’s … kind of all over. It got me to thinking, that I wasn’t predicting anything. It wasn’t any kind of foreknowledge. I was saying those things when I did, because that’s what happened the last time I came back through here. And the time before that. And before that, like two mirrors held up to each other … Each time thinking that I could change what was
going to happen, never realizing I’d already tried. And failed …” Kelly tilted his head, remembering something. “Hey, what happened to Rachel-Ann?”
Patrick was disgusted that he didn’t immediately recognize the name of Edmund’s mother, even as Jenna replied: “She sold her house. Moved. Nobody knows any more about it.”
“Did you go to the funeral?”
Further self-recrimination as Patrick shook his head.
“I did….” Jenna twisted her knuckles together, lips tight. “Whole school did.”
“Even the football guys? Cody and the rest?”
“Yeah …” Jenna scratched her nose. “Well, Cody couldn’t, he … Edmund shot him through the spine, and he’s not going to be walking … Ever again, they say.”
Kelly shook his head sadly. “Jesus.”
“I know … There’s nothing he did, I feel, deserving of that.”
“Yes.”
“It’s strange to say it, but I think maybe they might have … Well, as far as the football team, students, teachers. I guess everyone’s been treating each other a bit better lately.”
“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Patrick muttered.
Kelly turned to him, hesitating to ask. “Patrick?”
Patrick’s stomach knotted. “I couldn’t go to the funeral.”