WhiteSpace: Season One (Episodes 1-6 of the sci-fi horror serial) (44 page)

Beatrice was still in the hospital. She would make it, sort of. All of her was working, except for most of her brain. That part didn’t seem to be working right at all.
 

Conway Medical had an amazing psych ward. As good as anything in Seattle, at least according to his dad. Milo wondered what came first, the chicken or the egg. From Mrs. Lindley to Mr. Carney, and all the island oddballs in between, Hamilton had more than its share of folks who not only seemed slightly off, but were.
 

Was there more weirdoes because there were so many doctors, or so many doctors because of the excess of weirdoes?

Milo’s mother had been treated for her mental problems at Conway Medical years earlier, and maybe even by the same doctors working on Beatrice. Maybe that was just coincidence, but the part of Milo that wrote stories with Alex didn’t like the coincidence a bit. It smelled like the dumpsters at The Fish Tail.
 

Milo didn’t wonder
if
his father knew more than he was saying, he only wondered
how much
more he knew. His dad was the obvious common denominator between Milo’s mom and Beatrice. And he knew his dad well enough to know when he was keeping shit to himself, being evasive, or hiding his eyes to bury truth.
 

The psych ward: like prison for your brain.

Milo wondered if his mother would have eventually found herself in Conway Medical’s psych ward if she hadn’t disappeared.
 

Milo’s father cleared his throat and stepped in front of the TV, obscuring the face of a man talking about how Bible stories could easily be interpreted as descriptions of ancient aliens. It was the first thing that actually grabbed Milo’s interest, so of course his father would pick that moment to step in front of the TV.

“I have to go to work,” his dad said. ”I’m sorry.”

Milo shrugged. “No big deal, Dad. I get it.” Milo looked past his dad and toward the TV. “I think he’s gonna start talking about Peru next. Do you mind?”

Stephen frowned, then turned toward the TV and flipped it to off. He turned back to Milo. “I really am sorry, Milo. This has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me and bullshit at work.”

“So you’re allowed to swear?” Milo almost smiled.

“When appropriate.” Stephen almost smiled back. “I’m asking Dani to come by and stay with you.”

“What? Why?” Milo said. “I don’t need anything. Or anyone.”

“She has to clean anyway. I promise, it’s not just because of you. There’s plenty for her to do, especially with Bea gone. Dani can stock the fridge, or handle anything we need her to do. So don’t be proud. It’s not one of your best qualities. I swear, you must get it from your father.”

Stephen smiled awkwardly, then squeezed Milo’s shoulder and said, “I’ll be home when I can, okay, Milo? Let Dani know what you want for dinner. It can be anything. If she can cook it, great. If not, have her find a place that will. I love you.” He kissed Milo on the forehead, said, “I’ll be home a little after five,” then walked toward the front door, pulling the glass card-sized phone from his pocket, checking for messages on the way.
 

He turned back toward Milo, gave him one last half-smile, then stepped from the house, closing the door behind him.
 

Milo didn’t feel alone, even though he thought he probably should. He wondered how long it would take for the loneliness to creep in, but didn’t get a chance to find out since his phone buzzed with Katie’s face smiling from her side of the glass.
 

“Hey,” Milo said, looking into the phone, absentmindedly scratching his left arm through the gauze wrap that covered the stitched lacerations. Both arms were cut, but his left one was particularly itchy.

“Hey. How are you doing?” Katie’s face didn’t look nearly as pretty once set to motion. Her eyes were red and cheeks thin. And not the beginning of summer thin. Sad thin.
 

“OK, just a few bumps and bruises.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. And sorry to hear about Bea.”

“Yeah,” Milo said, not having much to say about Other-Mom.

Katie paused for a moment and then said, “You know Alex’s dad is being buried at one.”

“Good.”

“I know, Milo. I get it. I do.” She swallowed, then said, “But you might regret it if you don’t go.”

“I doubt it.”
 

Katie waited a few seconds, then said, “You’re smarter than that, Milo. And yeah, you can hate Alex right now. I understand that. But I know you, and you won’t hate Alex forever. And when you’re not hating him anymore, and some of your hurt has settled down, you’re going to wish that you went and were there for your best friend.”

“Wished I went to a murderer’s funeral? Sorry, Katie, not sure I can ever see living to regret that.”
 

Katie shook her head. “Milo, I can’t even say that’s not fair because it is. What Mr. Heller did was horrible. The most horrible thing that’s ever happened, to me or to anyone I know. And we will probably never understand why he did what he did. But that doesn’t change the Mr. Heller you knew before the shooting. It doesn’t change him being a totally dorky but pretty awesome history teacher, or the fact that he was Alex’s dad, and was always cool to all of us every time we saw him. Obviously something happened to Mr. Heller. He snapped or something. You should get it more than anyone.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Milo asked, pissed. “My mom didn’t try to kill people!”

Katie sighed. “I’m not saying she did. But sometimes things happen to people we love and we’re left picking up the pieces. Just like Alex is right now. I’m not sure what else to say, Milo. I just think you should come.”

Milo said nothing.

“Please?” Her eyes were wide and wet. “Just say that you’ll think about it?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Promise and mean it?”

Milo thought about it, then nodded. “I promise and mean it. But I want to hang up now.”

Katie smiled. “Thanks, Milo. Really. And I’m sorry about all of this. Things will settle down, get back to normal. I’m sure of it.”

Milo said, “I’m sure we’ll all be friends someday, Katie. But I don’t think there’s such thing as ‘normal’ after this. See ya’ when I see ya’.” He severed the line, then slowly turned the phone in his hand, waiting.
 

Milo could have easily traded miseries with Katie for another hour, but he didn’t want to be on the other line if Cody called. The call that wouldn’t come, even though Milo had been waiting for it since Jordy’s booked their unexpected remodel.
 

From the second Cody informed him that Manny was dead, Milo had developed an itch in his brain that hadn’t gone anywhere near fading. How could Cody have known about Manny as fast as he had? And who in the hell were his
sources
?

Milo wasn’t sure what bothered him more, the mystery behind Cody’s sources, or the way he said, “They got him.” Though even that might have been better than, “They have their ways.”
 

Cody had warned Milo to get out of town, and that he’d be in touch later that night. Of course, Milo had boarded Bea’s train to CrazyTown, so he never had the opportunity to ignore Cody’s advice.
 

He hadn’t heard from Cody since.

Milo was starting to think that Cody — or whatever his name really was — was full of shit. Just some asshole messing with him simply because he could. Milo didn’t think it was Jesus, couldn’t even imagine that Manny’s brother would do something like that. It could have been any one of Jesus’s asshole friends. There were certainly plenty. And while Milo couldn’t see anyone thinking that sort of prank was even remotely funny, Milo had been surprised by Jesus’s asshole friends before.

It didn’t have to be one of Jesus’s asshole friends, though. People were mean, and the Internet practically granted super powers to assholes through the radioactive spider of anonymity. Maybe Milo had run into an especially well-sourced cyber asshole.
 

Weirder things had happened.
 

Milo shifted his position on the foldout couch, pulled the blanket up under his chin, then pointed the remote back at the TV, so he could hear what the alternative archeologists had to say about the pyramids.
 

A dull ache persisted in his head, so he went to the kitchen to take one of the pain pills prescribed to him. He wished the doc had given him something for the itching, though, which was now in his other arm.

He scratched the itch as he returned to the TV, enjoying the moments alone until Dani arrived. Even though she was in her early 20’s, blonde, and one of the hotter girls he’d known, he wasn’t in the mood to be around anyone.

As Milo watched the show, he flashed back to Bea in her trance, watching snow on the TV.

A chill ran through Milo and he clicked the TV off.

* * * *

CHAPTER 5 — Cassidy Hughes

Wednesday morning…

“Really?” Cassidy said. “You had
no idea
that I had a crush on you? You’re not half as smart as you pretend to be in interviews.” Cassidy moved her sandals, switching them from her sweaty right hand to the crook of her arm.
 

She and Jon were walking the beach on a morning stroll, trading honest exchange with the sound and scent of the salted Pacific to their right. Cassidy was carrying her $4.99 sandals. She had no idea how much Jon had spent on the shoes he left sitting at the foot of the stairs winding down to the boardwalk.

He smiled, then shrugged. “Really,” he said, “I had no idea. I don’t ever remember a time when you weren’t punching me, by fist or by mouth.”
 

Cassidy laughed. “It was huge, until it wasn’t. But I was crushing on you way before Sarah. Which is why I guess I was so jealous of you both back in the day. Like many things with Sarah, your relationship was a giant neon sign glowing over all the stupid relationships I had.”

Cassidy didn’t think she sounded bitter, but hoped Jon didn’t think so either.

“I was totally clueless,” he said. “Not just about you, but Sarah too. I had no clue that she liked me when I first asked her out.”

“Idiot. Anyone could see she was ga-ga over you. She tried to hide it from me, but you’d have to be blind not to have seen it.”

A gallon of sand slipped through their toes before another word was whispered. The words, barely there above the crash of the foam, were hers.
 

“Why not me?” Cassidy couldn’t look at him. Maybe even hated him right there in this lonely moment of hers. “Why did you ask Sarah out instead of me?”
 

Sand kept slipping between their toes as Jon pulled Cassidy’s fingers into his hand. “Because,” he said, “you seemed eternally disinterested. And while I like the unicorns and rainbows in your version of our history, the one I clearly remember had you playing Wicked Witch of the Jerk to me — especially as we grew older. Yeah, you were a ton of fun when we were in fifth grade, but I don’t remember too many times from middle school on up when you weren’t trying to make me feel like shit for having money.”

Her cheeks burned against the ocean’s cool salty mist.
 

Cassidy wanted to justify her behavior, say it was all sorta kinda his fault anyway. But the truth was, right there in the rotten core of that lonely moment, Cassidy couldn’t think of a single mean thing Jon had ever done just because he had money, or to somehow prove he was better than her.

The salty air was a sudden rock in her throat. Cassidy swallowed hard, her eyes stinging. Another gallon of sand slipped between their toes, then, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t always nice to you, and you didn’t deserve that.” Then, because she couldn’t help it, Cassidy added, “You've gotta admit, though, you did run with a couple of total assholes.”
 

“Most guys are assholes,” Jon said. “It’s impossible not to run with a couple.”
 

“I’m really sorry,” Cassidy shook her head and kept her eyes toward the sea. “For real, I mean it.” Her last five words crashed together as though they were only three.
 

Jon nodded toward the boardwalk. “That place any good?”

“
That place”
was a trendy, barely three year old, Swedish bakery and cafe called Powdered Sugar.

Cassidy turned her gaze from ocean to boardwalk, then smiled at a memory. “Great waffles,” she said. “Everything else is meh. But if you like waffles, the place is fucking killer.”
 

Jon turned toward the boardwalk. Cassidy followed and said, “The Breakfast Nook has killer waffles, too. Probably even better. When they’re good, they’re ‘explode in your mouth’ good. Problem is, Pauly started staring off into space — a lot. Half the time he needed a smoking iron to tell him the waffle’s done. The other half Pauly spends not paying attention to the same exact batter he’s made a million times before.” Cassidy made a face, remembering her last order of slightly sour waffles. “When they’re good, they’re the best on the island. But the last two times were awful. Powdered Sugar
kicks ass every time.”

They hit the boardwalk. Jon climbed to the other side, then held his hand out for Cassidy. She climbed across, then hopped to the wood landing with her eyes at Jon’s naked feet.