Chapter 24 #2
“Sam!” It’s Grady’s voice I hear over Pierre’s protests. They’re both farther away than Sam.
A fresh wave of tears pours out with my relief. Grady has Paige. He’s here.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fucking coming,” Sam grumbles. “You got her, Jer? She can’t hold herself up.”
“I’ve got her,” he says. “Can you sit down, sweetheart? Just here.” He guides me slowly to the back of the ambulance.
“Lou! Fuck, Lou.” Grady enters my limited vision, kneeling in front of me, his fingers probing all over my face. “Jesus.”
“Where’s Paige?”
“She’s fine, baby. She’s inside with Sam.”
“She was so brave,” I mumble. “So brave.”
“So were you,” Jerry says. “You did good, kid.”
“Did I get him?”
“Fuck yeah, you did,” Grady says. “He was already bleeding when we got here. Sam added to it with the butt of his shotgun.”
“Wish I’d been able to see that,” I tell them. “I’m so tired.”
“I know, sweetheart, but try to stay awake,” Grady says. “Keep talking to us while we clean you up.”
“Will you take a picture? I want to see what I did,” I say dizzily.
“You got it,” Jerry says with a small chuckle.
It stings, whatever they use to clean me up. Speaking is hard, but I’m good at hissing and flinching.
“She can’t see me like this.”
“She’s worried about you,” Grady says.
“You tell her I’m okay, but don’t…I don’t want to scare her again.”
Grady wipes over my eye with soft gauze. I blink and blink until I can see him. Water runs down his cheeks. Tears. I lift a hand to wipe them away, but it’s covered with bloody grime. I let it fall.
“It’s okay. I fought back. I kept my promise to her that we’d be okay.”
His head falls to my lap, his body shaking with his own sobs as mine dry up.
It’s hours and hours later. Or, maybe not. The next day, perhaps? Or has it been just minutes? Time is still moving wrong. Between a mild concussion, major depression, and enormous worry; I’ve lost all track.
I’m not alone. Grady has been babysitting. Asking what I need, how to help. Talk to me, Lou.
But what’s there to say?
“It’s my turn,” Maggie says from the door. “Go get some rest.”
“I’m fine here,” Grady says.
“Paige needs you,” I tell him. I’ve been telling him. “Go home.”
He grumbles and complains, but not too much. I’m right, he knows it. One man, two places. The child needs him most.
“I’d like to shower,” I say when he leaves.
“You’ll need some help,” Maggie says. “Okay?”
“It’s fine,” I say. The whole world has seen me stripped bare. Metaphorically, anyway.
She helps me off the couch where I’ve been lying, staring out my one good eye at the dying sky.
Or is it my eye that’s dying? My body creaks like an old house as the morose settles back into my bones.
I’d shooed it away. Pierre brought it back.
Suddenly, I miss that too large hoodie I hid in, those first few days. Cowering like the coward I was.
Maggie runs the water until it’s warm, while I fumble with the button on my shorts. Bandaged fingers don’t work as well. They’re not broken, this time. At least, I don’t think they are. I wiggle them to be sure.
Nope. Not broken. Just bloody and gashed.
After she’s helped me get my shorts off, she pulls my shirt over my head.
“Oh, Lou,” she says sadly.
“I’ll heal,” I say, scanning my body. Road rash covers my calves, my knees, and arms. Bruises carpet my side from breast to hip.
“Yes, my dear. You will.” She sounds less convinced than I do.
The water bites like hundreds of tiny snakes. Still too sleepy to stand, I sit in the tub and let Maggie wash me.
“My mother never would have done this for me. She’d blame me. Imply that I deserved it for leaving him. For not being a better woman. One capable of keeping her man happy,” I say. Maggie clucks her tongue in disgust. “Thank you, is what I’m trying to say.”
“You’re welcome,” she says. “I always wanted a daughter, you know? I thought Grady would be the best big brother. Protective and kind, as he is. It wasn’t in the cards. But we had Jules and then, Paige. Now, you. You’re my daughter, now.”
That makes me smile. It hurts, pulling at my puffy cheek and eye. It’s worth the pain.
“You don’t know what that means to me.”
“I might,” she says, and tips my head back gently to lather shampoo in. She takes her time, getting her own sleeves wet in the process. If she minds, she doesn’t show it. When the water runs clear, and my body is free of dried blood and debris, she helps me towel off and wraps me in my robe.
“Am I allowed to sleep, yet?”
“Of course. They only wanted to make sure you weren’t showing signs of something worse.” I’m steadier on my feet as I walk to my bedroom and climb into bed. Maggie takes the empty glass from the bedside table and fills it for me. “No ibuprofen, yet, though. Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “How bad do I look?” I avoided the mirror in the bathroom, not wanting to see how badly he’s derailed my career. Again.
“Not as bad as last time,” she says with a small wince. “I think Paige could handle it. Might actually put her mind at ease if she could check on you.”
“Are you sure?”
“You’re both much stronger than you look.” She pulls the coverlet up over my shoulder, and I nod. “I’ll be right back, then.”
Nervous anticipation sparks through me. Truth is, I’ve wanted to see her since the police left after getting my lengthy statement.
What I told Grady was true. I don’t want to scare her any more than the situation already did.
But I’ve also wanted to wrap my arms around her, hold her close, reassure us both that we are really all right.
If Maggie thinks she can handle seeing me beat up like I am, I’ll trust it. She knows better than me.
I’d like for that to change. I’d like to be one of the adults who knows Paige best. Deeper down, there’s a darker feeling, a niggling guilt that I’ve been trying to chase away since the sirens left and the noise quieted. Since I’ve been back in the prison of my own brain.
This is my fault.
I brought the danger here. To Stowaway. To Paige.
If spiraling downward were an Olympic sport, I’d wear the gold medal around my neck. It could hang from my Bvlgari Fiorever necklace, if that wasn’t still hidden away at Pierre’s. Assuming he hasn’t thrown all my shit out on the sidewalk by now.
The hope that I’d get my possessions back fled weeks ago.
I still miss a few of them, though. Things I splurged on when I accomplished something I was proud of.
That necklace, the McQueen fringe jewel clutch, the Bottega Veneta ruffle dress that makes me want to dance when I put it on.
I worked so hard for those tokens. I deserve to have them, even if to just take up space in my closet.
My eyes close and sleep tries to drag me down to its depths. Until a small body crawls under the covers with me.
“Lulu,” she says so softly, curling up to face me, her head next to mine on the pillow. Her eyes still show some red puffiness from crying. It breaks my heart. Shatters it to a million tiny pieces.
“Hey, kiddo,” I say, smiling at her as wide as I can manage.
“You’re hurt.” Her tiny palm comes to rest on my cheek, her fingers soothing and cool.
“I’m okay,” I tell her. “I’m okay because of you. You did so good, Paige. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she whispers.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, Lulu.”
I fall asleep with her hand still on my cheek, my arm draped protectively around her, and her dad standing guard at my bedroom door.