Chapter 16
“It’s Sierra,” He says.
“Oh, fuck,” I immediately sit up, and swing my legs over the side of the bed. “What happened?”
“Oh, shit,” I say, standing up.
“Did you call her back?” I ask.
“Yes, but she didn’t pick up.” He paces back and forth in the doorway.
“Her phone could have died. Did you call the hospital?”
“No, not yet. I wanted to wake you first…but you were already awake.”
“Yeah, I’m awake,” I say, walking over to my suitcase to close it up. “Come on, let’s go. We should get there as soon as we can.”
Dean doesn’t say anything, but once my suitcase is zipped up, he lifts it off the dresser and rolls it out of the room. In the living room, I toe my shoes on and put on my coat, where Dean is already waiting.
I shoulder my tote bag, and we head outside. It’s bitterly cold, with winds coming from all directions, and there’s no reprieve from it in the van where it seems the heat is taking longer than usual to warm everything up.
“I think the van’s heat is crapping out,” Dean says, turning the heat dial all the way to the right, as warm as it will go. “Fuck.”
“It’s okay, it’ll warm up as we drive.” I try to reassure him. “It’s a short drive anyhow.”
It’s only twenty minutes to the medical center. Dean drives five miles per hour over the speed limit on the way there but slows down as we approach a stalled car on the side of the road.
“That looks like my mom’s car.” Dean remarks. “Fucking Johnny.”
Sure enough, there’s a busted-up Chevy Spark on the side of the shoulder of Route 1. It looks like it was run into the metal barrier around the curve of the road. It’s a miracle they didn’t tumble down the side of the hill into the ravine.
“Can you look up a towing company around here?” Dean asks me.
“Yeah, of course,” I say. “Where do you want it towed to?”
“A shop in Allagash, probably.” He sighs. “This blows.”
“Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.” I don’t know what to say—it’s not like he wants my help. He made that abundantly clear last night.
We pull into the parking lot of the small medical center and park the van right out front, near the emergency department entrance.
Dean doesn’t say anything to me as we leave the van, his mind clearly elsewhere.
He power walks straight to the automatic sliding doors of the emergency department, a man on a mission, walking fast like his life depended on it.
I follow close on his heels, nearly out of breath by the time we get there.
We turn to the right, looking for someone who can direct us to where Sierra is, but we don’t even need to get that far, because she’s sitting off to the left in a plastic office chair in the waiting room.
Sierra spots Dean immediately, and she rushes up to him, nearly bowling him over with her embrace.
It doesn’t hit me until after Dean and Sierra are reunited that this is the same hospital they brought Andy to. I stand back, watching them hug it out, while my own emotions boil underneath the surface. I push the feeling of uneasiness down; this is for later. It’s about Dean and Sierra now.
“What happened?” Dean asks, as she releases him, a pink cast from her wrist to her elbow on her right arm. “Are you okay? Where’s Johnny?”
“I–I don’t know,” Sierra stammers. “He was fine for one minute. Then he swerves out of control, and we hit the railing. He said there was a raccoon in the middle of the road. His mom picked him up a few hours ago.”
“Fuckers. They couldn’t bring you?”
“I wanted you,” She says, her voice trembling, full of youth.
“What happened to your arm? What did they say?” Dean asks, patting her hair.
“I had my arm out the window.” She looks at her cast, inspecting it. “It’s broken. They said to come back in six weeks to see if it’s healing properly.”
“Man, Sierra, you have got to be more careful. This could have been so much worse.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” She says, Dean pulling her into another hug.
“I’m just glad you’re okay.”
“Is the car okay?” Sierra asks.
“I don’t know. We’re going to have it towed. We’ll drive you home.”
“Hi.” Sierra says, peering around Dean, looking at me. “Brother, dearest, can you get me something to eat? I’m starving. I haven’t eaten all night. I think I left my wallet in the car…I don’t know where it is.”
“Yeah. Stay here with Madeline. I’ll find something,” Dean says, squeezing her unbroken arm. She sits back down in her chair, utterly defeated, while Dean follows the signs to the Cafeteria. I sit down next to her, and a few moments of silence pass.
“Are you all right?” She asks me.
“Kind of,” I say.
“Kind of?”
“Yeah. Kind of. You don’t need to worry about it,” I say.
“No, tell me.” She implores.
“This is the same hospital they took Andy to.” I tell her, even though that’s not really what’s bothering me.
“Oh.” Sierra puts her hand on my knee to comfort me, even though I should be the one comforting her. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“I’m really glad you’re okay,” I tell her. “Your brother really cares about you.”
“I know,” She smiles. “I think he cares too much.”
“He cares just the right amount,” I reassure her with a sigh. “Don’t take it for granted.”
“He always has,” Sierra agrees. “He’s the best big brother I could have ever asked for.
Since my Dad died, he really took it upon himself to do everything for me and my mom.
He gave up a lot for us. I tried really hard to make it up to him by getting into a good college, but I couldn’t.
I didn’t win the student council elections.
I wasn’t picked for captain on the volleyball team.
I feel like all I do is disappoint him.”
“He’s so proud of you. He doesn’t care that you weren’t picked or chosen for the first spot. He just cares that you’re you. No matter what,” I remind her. “You know, there’s plenty of good schools out there. Yale isn’t the only one.”
“It feels like it was the only one that mattered,” She exhales. “It feels like…anyone who matters, anyone who does anything great, goes to a college like that.”
“Like what?” I ask her.
“Like, prestigious. Big. Well-known.”
“You know that’s not true. Dean didn’t go to a school like that. I didn’t go to a school like that. Hell, Andy didn’t go to a school like that. You can do great things no matter where you come from.” I tell her. “Prestigious, big and well-known don’t always mean important or great.”
“You think so?” She asks.
“I know so. You know, Andy didn’t even graduate. And look what he did.”
“He didn’t?”
“He didn’t. He only got through one semester before dropping out.”
“I guess you have a point,” She gives me a soft smile.
“Don’t go dropping out now.” I give her a wink.
“Are you and Dean together?” Sierra asks me bluntly. “I promise I won’t post it anywhere if you are.”
“We’re…we’re not.” I shake my head no.
“You’re not?”
“We’re friends.” If you could call us that.
“I could have sworn I heard you guys kissing the other day.” She calls it out with no qualms and shrugs.
“Oh. No, we were,” I laugh, admitting it to her face, matching her honesty. There is no getting past this girl. “But we’re not together.”
“Shame, I liked you the best out of all his girlfriends. I wish I had a boyfriend.” We have a hearty laugh about that but are interrupted when Dean returns holding a turkey sandwich in a plastic container. “Lord, what took you so long?” Sierra snatches the sandwich from his hands.
“Hey, give me half of that,” Dean holds his hand out for the other half.
“What for? You got this for me.” She turns away, hiding the sandwich out of his reach.
“Brother tax.”
“Fine.” She takes a bite out of half and offers it to him. He takes it anyway.
“I’ll give you guys some space.” I stand up, shaking my hands off on my pants, walking past Dean and Sierra before either of them can dispute it. This place is starting to give me heart palpitations.
Stepping outside, I stuff my hands into my jacket pockets.
I pull out a crumpled receipt for Dean’s record.
I want to toss it on the ground and stop all over it with my dirty shoes, turning it into nothing but a paste, but instead, I crumple it back up and return it to its place in my pocket for later.
Dean is right: this blows.
The whoosh of the doors blows my hair into my face, and Dean and Sierra step out into the cold next to me. “We’re going to take Sierra home, and then I’ll take you home. Sound good?” Dean asks.
“Fine with me.” I’m moving past the feeling that this is all about to blow up in my face. I’ll return home and things will go back to just the way they were. Except they won’t. I can’t knowingly patronize Martell Pharmacy after what Craig said about me in that article.
I sit in the front seat, with Sierra behind me —this time it’s about a 45 minute drive.
“Can we listen to Taylor Swift?” Sierra asks immediately after buckling her seatbelt, before we can even pull out of the parking lot. Dean automatically puts her discography on shuffle before reversing.
“You good back there?” He asks.
“Just fine and dandy,” Sierra answers raising her broken arm, and I watch her rest her head back in the rearview mirror.
“Good. Let me know if you need to stop,” Dean says, adjusting the mirror so she’s out of my view.
“It’s 40 minutes. I think I’ll be okay.”
We drive in relative silence only stopping to say “Look, there’s some horses” From flat out closing my eyes to watching the road disappear under us instead, I try everything I can think of to not look at Dean.
But eventually, when I feel like I’ve run out of things to catalog in my brain, my eyes slip to his hands on the wheel, to his wristwatch, to the way his flannel shirt is too long so he’s cuffed it at his wrists.