Absorbed

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I f you had to bet money on it, what do you think Mark has been doing the last two weeks?” Stacey asked, once they were on the freeway back to Mesa Valley.

Chad rested his elbow on the window frame and ruffled his hair with a sigh. “Getting stoned. Sleeping. Playing video games. You?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, too.” Stacey exited the freeway at County Line Road. “After that night by the hot tub, I haven’t felt right about those pills Mark takes. But, after all these years working together, don’t you think Bob knows about it, too? Wouldn’t he be worried?” She turned toward the golf course.

“Bob knows more than he’s telling us, I’m sure of it,” Chad said. “But Mark’s doctors give him those pills. They can’t be so bad. And Bob sees injured baseball players all the time.”

“Maybe I’m overreacting.” Stacey pulled to a stop behind a tow-truck at the signal. “Do you remember if Mark’s street is anywhere near the clubhouse? That’s the only part of the golf course I know how to get to.”

“Because of prom?” Chad asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Stacey said shyly, embarrassed.

“Me, too! No one in my family golfs, or could EVER afford to live in a neighborhood like Hawk Hill. I’m still totally blown away by Desiree’s place and we’ve been together for like two years. The one time Mark and I stopped by his house is the only time I’ve been by the golf course, other than prom.” Chad shook his head. “It’s not really by the clubhouse, but it was kind of on the way. Just go in that direction. I’ll see what looks familiar.”

Once the signal turned, Stacey navigated around the tow truck, past the Christmas tree farm and antique mall, then turned down Avenue L. Almost every yard they passed was dry and dusty, enclosed in chain-link fencing. Cars sat atop cinder blocks in what would be lawns if there wasn’t a drought, and large dogs were chained to the ancient oak trees that offered shade.

Stacey turned onto Country Club Drive, following a small green golf course sign with an arrow pointing right, and the whole environment was instantly different. “Look at this place,” she said.

Large rolling green lawns were divided by hedges, with beautifully manicured flower beds. The cars parked in driveways were buffed to a shine. Rather than the two steps and a railing that led to small stoops on Avenue L, the ranch-style country club tract-homes had wrap-around covered porches shaded by blooming magnolia trees, or large, shiny green palm fans.

Chad pointed to a cul-de-sac to the left. “Turn there. I think it’s close to the end on the right.”

There were only seven houses on the street, three on each side and one at the end. Mark’s big truck came into view, parked in a driveway beside a hedge of cypress trees.

Once she saw the house, Stacey could picture Mark, the former football star, being raised there. The gray house had blue trim and shutters, its brick walkway was lined with red and white rose bushes. It was the kind of home that perfect American families occupy on TV, the kind of families she imagined would have a son recruited to play college football for a renowned team like Texas A&M.

Stacey pulled in beside Mark’s truck. She and Chad walked side by side to the front door. The house was dark. Chad tried the doorbell and knocked. There were no sounds of animals or people inside.

“If his truck is here, wouldn’t Mark be here, too?” Stacey asked.

“Not necessarily. He’s really good about not driving if he plans to get trashed.”

They stood in silence for a minute, looking around. A lawn mower buzzed in the distance. “What do we do now?”

Chad shrugged.

They walked back to the car and got inside. Stacey bit her lip, and focused on the dashboard, trying to come up with a plan. “What if we hunt down someone else Mark is friends with? Do you think Travis knows him well enough to have an idea of where he might be?”

“I don’t think so.” Chad looked out the passenger window at Mark’s truck. “Mark is two years older than Travis. I’m pretty sure they only know each other because of football.”

Stacey pointed to the handle in front of Chad’s knees. “I might have a piece of paper and a pen in the glove compartment. We could leave him a note. We could stick it in the mailbox, or wedge it in the front door?”

Chad spread his knees apart and opened the compartment. He pulled out a stack of stapled sales paperwork. They were sifting through to see what could be sacrificed when there was a knock on the driver’s-side window.

Stacey startled, accidentally bumping the car’s horn.

A nicely dressed woman in her late sixties stood there patiently with a soft smile.

Stacey rolled her window down.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked.

“We’re just trying to find Mark Rosenthal,” Chad said, leaning over the emergency brake to be heard over the engine and the loud AC. “We need to talk to him.”

“I live next door,” the woman said, gesturing over her shoulder to the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. “The Rosenthals are on vacation in Hawaii.”

“Oh,” Stacey replied, confused. She looked at Chad, who seemed equally surprised. “Don’t you think Mark would have mentioned a trip like that coming up at some point this summer?”

Chad threw his hands up.

“But Mark isn’t with them,” the woman said slowly.

“He’s not?” Chad said looking up at her through the open window.

“No.” The woman clasped her hands in front of her. “Can I ask, how do you know Mark?”

“We worked together at the pool,” Stacey said.

“He’s our friend,” Chad interjected.

The woman twisted her lips and brought her right hand to her mouth, as if she was contemplating something. “If you’re here about drugs, you should leave right now.”

“What?” Stacey said. “No! Mark rescued another friend of ours, Jessie, while I was there. Mark saved his life. When we were at the hospital visiting, Jessie said he really needed to talk to Mark, and made me promise I would tell Mark to go see him. That’s why we’re here.”

“I see.” The woman nodded and dropped her hands. “Mark’s had a rough go of things lately, and we have to be careful about who can see him. If you give me a minute, I can find out if he would like to talk to you. At the very least I can give him your message. What are your names?”

“I’m Stacey and this is Chad.” Stacey gestured with her hands. “We don’t want to be a problem. We’ve just been worried about him.”

“I’ll be right back. He’s my grandson, by the way.”

She crossed the large lawn between the two houses. Stacey rolled the window back up and looked at Chad. “What the hell?”

Chad pushed his palms into his eye sockets, then smoothed his hands over his hair. “Who knows. At least we found him.”

A few minutes later, Mark’s grandmother waved from her porch for them to come over.

Stacey’s flip-flops sank into the cool, damp lawn and thick blades of grass poked at her feet. There was a richness in the air that smelled green, so different from the chicken manure that permeated Stacey’s neighborhood.

Mark’s grandmother’s house was the mirror image of Mark’s, so the front entrances paralleled one another on an angle, with a wide view of the golf course in between the two properties. A golf cart and a large, white Cadillac were parked beside one another in the driveway.

“Do you think they drive the golf cart right over the lawn and down there to that path?” Stacey asked.

Chad nodded, his sandals crunching into the grass with each step. “Someday I want a house in a place like this,” he muttered.

“For sure,” Stacey agreed. “ But not in Mesa Valley.”

Mark’s grandmother stood beside the wide, shiny wooden front door, and ushered them inside.

The entryway had wood-paneled walls and smelled like Pledge. Every surface that wasn’t shiny wood was either sparkling glass or fine upholstery, and there was an entire wall of books in the family room. An older man looked up at them from his seat in the corner where he was reading.

The family room’s large picture window lit the room well and gave a clear view of the entire neighborhood. Stacey’s car stuck out like a sore thumb beside Mark’s truck, and she could see how its presence would have drawn their attention immediately.

“Hi.” Stacey waved at the man she assumed was Mark’s grandfather. “Sorry to interrupt your afternoon.”

The man nodded in reply, but did not wave back. Or smile.

“Follow me,” Mark’s grandma said. “Mark’s in the dining room.”

The scent of a delicious meal cooking wafted toward them from the kitchen, offering a warm, comfortable aura to the house.

Mark was seated at the table, clean shaven, with a fresh haircut, a buttoned shirt, and slacks. Without his goatee and wild locks, sprawled on the guard shack’s thrift store couch in a stained tee and red trunks, this Mark barely resembled the person Stacey had worked with at The Plunge all summer.

“I’ll leave you,” his grandmother said. “Pop and I will just be in the other room if you need us, Marky.”

Chad and Stacey looked at each other, grinning.

“Marky?” Chad teased under his breath.

They pulled chairs out and sat across from Mark at the table.

“Hey, guys,” Mark said, cracking his familiar grin. “Whatcha doin’ here?”

“No one was answering your phone,” Chad started. “Stacey promised Jess she’d get in touch with you. I offered to help, since I remembered where you lived from that time we….” Chad quickly glanced around, then gestured smoking weed with his middle finger and thumb so the grandparents wouldn’t hear.

Mark smiled and nodded. He pushed back until his chair leaned on two legs, his arms crossed.

“Jessie really wants you to go see him at the hospital.” Stacey chimed in. “That’s why we came to find you. Your grandma saw us sitting in my car in your driveway.” Stacey gestured over her shoulder. “She invited us inside.”

Mark appeared entertained by their rambling, but offered no explanation.

After several seconds of silence, the only sound coming from a timer ticking in the kitchen, Stacey became annoyed. “Are you okay?”

Mark nodded enthusiastically, but said nothing.

Chad and Stacey stared back at him, expectantly, then at each other, confused.

Stacey tossed her hands up in exasperation. “Well, if you’re fine, then why’d you disappear? You didn’t even say goodbye.”

“Yeah, man, why didn’t you answer the phone, or call any of us?”

Mark took a deep breath and dropped the front legs of his chair to the ground. He rubbed his hands on his thighs. “I…went to rehab. I got back Wednesday from two weeks at a place in the desert. I’m seventeen days sober.”

“Seriously?”Stacey asked. “Does Bob know?”

“Good for you, man,” Chad said.

Mark chuckled. “Thanks. Uh…yeah…Bob knows. But,” he rubbed his hand through his now shorter hair, “my parents are really embarrassed by this whole thing. They asked him to respect our privacy and keep it confidential. They’re pretending we all went on a last-minute vacation. They dropped me off in the morning and then went straight to the airport and flew to Hawaii. They get back tonight.”

“How do you feel?” Stacey asked.

“Pretty good, I think,” Mark said. “I mean EVERYTHING hurts, all the time. But I understand now that’s normal. I have to keep telling myself the pain is more of a thought than a reality.” Mark pulled a pack of gum out of his pocket and unwrapped a piece. He offered the pack to them before setting it on the table. “At least I’m not always half-asleep anymore.”

Mark leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, smoothing the metallic paper between his fingers while he talked. The gesture reminded Stacey of Jessie’s gum wrapper airplane that night at the movies. A lifetime ago. Her chest ached.

“There were a bunch of people in my program out there who got addicted to pain meds, like me,” Mark continued. “I guess doctors are just starting to understand how the pills make your body believe it’s in more pain than it is. It takes awhile for the brain to stop telling your body it hurts so much. I just gotta push through.” Mark crumpled the wrapper and dropped it on the table. He leaned back again in his seat, shoving his hands in his pockets. “But, if I’m not asleep and I’m not eating, I’m not sure what to do to distract myself from the pain.”

Stacey noticed how Mark’s cheeks had filled out, and the purple pools beneath his eyes had puffed into bags.

“That sucks. I’m so sorry. So…what now?” Chad asked. “I’m sure you’ve heard about The Plunge closing for good?”

“Yeah…I heard.” Mark exhaled. “I can’t stay around here anyway. It wouldn’t be long before I reconnect with the same people I’ve gotten high with and pills from for years. That won’t work.”

Stacey nodded.

“I’m gonna try community college again,” Mark said. “But I’m going to move in with my uncle in Louisiana. He’s been sober twenty-six years, so…he knows.” Mark nodded toward the living room. “This is nothing new to my grandparents. Anyway, there’s a school out there that has a sports medicine program. I figure maybe I could study that, understand my own injuries and get back into the football sidelines or something. Maybe help injured players not get into a situation like I did.”

“That’s a great plan, Mark,” Stacey said. “You should be proud of yourself.”

A stern look of disappointment clouded over Mark’s expression. “I’m a long way from being proud of myself. I have a lot to forgive myself for.” Mark leaned forward, staring at his clasped hands. “Like Jessie, for starters.”

“What do you mean, ‘Like Jessie?’” Chad asked.

Mark looked up at the corner of the ceiling, like he was watching a reel of the accident. “The last two weeks, I kept thinking, ‘If I'd been sober, how would it have gone differently?’ I have no idea if I responded fast enough, or if I did the right things. It’s all a fog. He could have died. Mr. Henderson did die.” Mark chewed at his nail and spit it out. “If I ruined Jessie’s chance to ever walk again because of those stupid pills, I could never forgive myself.”

“You saved Jessie’s life, Mark. He knows that,” Stacey said. “It’s what he wants to tell you. He wants to thank you.”

Mark’s face softened as he absorbed Stacey’s words.

Chad added, “Yeah, man. Jess broke his neck when he hit the bottom. That wasn’t your fault. And you were the only one strong enough to get him back-boarded and out of the water so fast. Maybe Bob could have done that, but maybe not.”

“Bob had his own distractions. We all did.” Stacey nodded. “I’m really glad you’re sober. It’s the best thing you can do for yourself. But that day you didn’t act like you were high. You did everything you could possibly do to save Jessie and Mr. Henderson. That’s what I told that lawyer, and I meant it. You were a hero.”

Mark’s eyes misted over, but he stubbornly shook his head. “You did just as much as I did. If I’d acted sooner…been more aware of what was happening…” Tears rolled down his cheeks and he angrily wiped them away. “…maybe Mr. Henderson would still be alive.”

“He was already dead when Jessie dove in, Mark,” Stacey said quietly. “No one could have saved Mr. Henderson.”

Mark looked at Chad for confirmation.

Chad nodded. “It’s true. There was nothing anyone could have done.”

Mark closed his eyes and the tears stopped. He wiped his face before opening them again.

The timer chimed in the kitchen. Mark’s grandma shuffled past them and pulled open the oven. “Don’t mind me, Marky.”

“We should go,” Stacey said to Chad. She stood and pulled the keys from her pocket. “Thank you for having us,” she called out toward the kitchen. “We’re gonna head out. We don’t want to interrupt your dinner.”

“Okay, dear,” his grandma called back. “Thanks for coming by.”

Chad stood and pushed in his chair. He walked around the table and clapped Mark on the shoulder. “I’m gonna miss hanging with you. Keep in touch, okay?”

Mark stood and gave Chad a pat on the back.

Stacey waited for them to part then spread her arms wide to give Mark a hug. “Go see Jessie, okay? And call Tiffany.”

Mark let go of their embrace and stepped back, saluting her. “Yes ma’am. I promise I won’t leave without saying goodbye.” He set his hand on Stacey’s shoulder and looked in her eyes. “You’re a damn fine lifeguard, Chapman. We made a good team.”

Stacey sighed. “I learned from the best.”