Chapter 57
Iopen my eyes to a blur. Slowly, everything comes into focus and I see a puffy, waxen face with giant lips and cheeks.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Dinah says.
“Ah, ah, AH, AH, AH!” I start kicking my legs and panicking. “Did it bite you, too?”
“I got a little work done this morning for the wedding,” she says, with a nurse behind her muttering, “Just a little?”
I look under my hospital gown. Everything is there. I sigh with relief. A saline drip line is attached to my hand under some medical tape.
“You know, I wish you had told me that spider will get you hard. Think of the money we could have made from that,” Dinah says. She pulls a nail file out of her purse and drags it over her fingertip.
I turn and notice Felix on the other side of my bed.
The nurse across the room sidles up to my bed. “Wade, honey, my name is Queenie. You're in an ICU right now, but you're going to be okay. How are you feeling?”
“Alive. Unfortunately.”
“You're lucky to be alive,” Queenie says.
I've heard that phrase before, and now, as always, I never feel lucky to be alive.
“You're a warrior, my friend,” she continues, patting my shoulder. “We could have lost you, but your body fought real hard.” Sometimes, I really wish it wouldn't.
“The show!” I suddenly remember. “What happened? I have to get back for tonight's performance.”
“You're not going anywhere, baby,” Queenie says.
“They shut the production down,” Felix adds.
“Why?” I ask.
Dinah bursts into laughter and drops her nail file in her lap.
“Don't worry about that right now,” Felix says. “You're still going to be here for a few more days.”
“Are the theater kids going to kill me?” I ask.
“They thought you were pulling one of your stunts. Byron had to be practically hauled out in a straitjacket screaming about the theater being cursed. It's going to take him months to get your puke smell out of his nostrils.”
“Where is the spider?” I ask.
Dinah chimes in. “The police took it. Clint's convinced it laid eggs in the house and he's been fumigating all night and day,” Dinah says. “I didn't realize he was such a scaredy cat.”
In the doorway appears Brandon Barton Buckley, holding a cactus in a pot. Behind him is a muscular young man, who's connected to him through tubes that look like they're transporting blood. Dinah's smirk falls flat. Queenie steps out as soon as she sees him.
“What are you doing here, Kooky McCornteeth?” she asks.
“Hell's bells, Lady Macbeth! What happened to your face? You try and kiss a rattler?”
“My friend Ruslan says I look exactly like all the richest ladies in Moscow, so stick that up your cactus and drink it.”
“I heard one of our Oyster Pit ISD cowboys was hospitalized and happened to be in the same building I'm in for one of my replenishing blood transfusions,” he says, setting the cactus right next to me. Its branch tilts precariously toward my face.
“Brandon, I know this might come as a shock to your giant ego, but stop inviting yourself into everything,” she says.
“Don't be so hateful, Ms. Dornoff. It's a happy day! IntegriDrone sales are so high that the Mrs. and I are about to go pick out our first yacht! Adios to you all! Feel better, young buck.”
He exits the room, leaving Dinah speechless.
“So he gets to have a yacht now?” She starts for the door. “Hold on now, Brandon! You can't do this!”
Felix walks up to the cactus and accidentally pricks his finger. He yelps and rubs at the wound.
“I'm so glad you're okay,” he says. “I thought you were going to die. For real.”
And then I remember. I told him. I finally told him.
“I'm flattered, but…” he had said. Three words with no less pain than if he just shoved that cactus into my heart.
“Why couldn't I just die this time? My life is over,” I say as I start to cry.
“Why would you say that?” he asks.
“We're not going to California. We won't be together. I'll be stuck alone in this stupid town for the rest of my life.”
“Oh, Wade…”
“Why are you here?”
“Because I care about you.”
“I saw your notebook with the picture of us and the lyrics that said, ‘I'll run away with you.' But then you tell me you're flattered that I love you.”
“You read my notebook?” he asks.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I can't believe I just said that.
“It's the lyrics of a song I like by the Cure. It wasn't about you. I can't believe you went through my stuff…”
“I didn't mean to,” I say.
“So is this why you've been acting so weird this year?” He scratches his temple.
“I didn't want you to stop caring about me like Dinah said you would.”
“I'll always care about you. You've been through a lot. I constantly put your comfort ahead of mine. But… I don't love you like in a romantic way.”
“If you don't love me, then why did you always put me first?” I ask.
“Because you're my best friend,” he says, “and I guess it gave me a sense of purpose and distracted me from my own issues.”
“What issues?”
“This is the first time you've ever asked me. Did you know I've been on medication for depression and anxiety the past year? I told you I was going to a dentist, but really I've been seeing a therapist. I mean, I didn't watch my parents die. I don't have your problems, but my life isn't easy.”
Now I feel foolish. I never thought of Felix as anxious or depressed. He's always been stronger than me. I can't believe this whole time he's been holding that in.
“No, it isn't,” I say. “Which is why I thought maybe we'd be happy together if we went to California.” I grab his hand. “Felix, we could be happy together.”
“I don't love you in that way.”
“Because I'm ugly?”
“Shut up. You're like the brother I always wished I had. That's how much you mean to me.”
He pauses.
“You have to understand,” he says, “Roland and I—” His eyes shift away from me and toward the floor. “We're together. We're even on the same damn antidepressants. And the thing is, I like who I am when I'm with him.”
“But not when you're with me,” I say, taking this in.
He sighs in frustration. “That's not what I mean.”
Obviously, that is what he means.
“My dad says he's seen me grow as a person the past two months, and he's right,” Felix says. “This doesn't make you any less special to me.”
“I get it. I'm your toxic, loser friend. Like your parents think,” I say, tearing up again. He's right. I'm a mess. Who is a better person from knowing me? I can't think of a single one.
“Go home, okay?” I tell him.
“Can I get you anything before I leave?” he asks.
“Oh god, Felix. Cut the shit. Please go. Go have a great day with Roland. Go take a romantic stroll on the beach with him and watch the sunset together or something.”
With his sullen eyes fixed on the floor, Felix leaves the room. When he shuts the door, my cries turn to sobs, and I hide my face in my pillow.