Bright Lights, Dark Nights (36 page)

“Hi,” I said when she saw me. I slowly raised my hand into a wave, or possibly as a sign of truce. I could swear her pupils dilated, like she saw a ghost. I should have worn a mask, maybe something fancy you held with a stick like they did at parties in old movies. Anything to cover the bruising. It was way too real.

“Hi,” Naomi said. And then the last thing I'd expected her to say: “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Naomi ran to the bathroom, and within the next minute the hallways emptied. And I waited. And I waited some more. And then I took Nate's basketball and I left.

*   *   *

I took the bus back to the hospital. Mel had texted me already that Dad was up, so I had a cocktail of emotions bubbling by the time I got there. I needed some good news. I needed something positive to grab on to. The first thing I heard walking in was from one of the nurses: “Your dad is so funny!”

I took the elevator to the third floor. The elevator was huge—it had to be to fit beds and stretchers in there. When the door opened, Rosie was in the hall like my own welcoming committee. “Walter, we've been waiting for you. Hurry up and get in there!”

“Hey, Rosie,” I said, surprised to see her. “How'd you find out about Dad?”

“Are you kidding?” Rosie asked. “I know when my routine is off, and if your father doesn't answer the phone, something is wrong. They don't call me Nosey Rosie for nothing, you know.” She gave a wink.
Nosey Rosie
, it was perfect. How had I never thought of that? I saw Ricky there, too. Rosie must have gotten the word out, quick.

It was a small room with a big window and plenty of sun. Dad was sitting up in his hospital bed, laughing with Mel, but he still had all the tubes going into him. I'd seen that kind of thing on TV, but not in real life and not on someone I knew. I thought the first thing you did after waking up was tear out all those tubes and patches.

Mellie gave Dad a hug and then gave me one, and left us alone.

Dad was looking at his phone. “They're gonna settle the case,” Dad said. His voice was rough, like he'd been up for days and then crashed for days. I guess that was exactly what had happened. He put his phone on the little table beside him. “Settle it behind closed doors, probably exchange some money. Well, I won't be involved, in any case.”

“What about your job?” I asked.

“I dunno. We'll see,” Dad said. “I haven't been fired yet, so that's a good sign, right?”

It wasn't the happy ending “Dad's Alive” party I'd hoped for. I sat down in a chair beside the bed, and Dad held my hand.

“Christ,” Dad said, shaking his head and trying to drum up a chuckle of some sort. He let out a cough. “Father of the year.”

It was quiet now, a different scene from what I'd walked into with the nurses laughing and Rosie and Mel in the room. Dad was at a loss for words. My throat was closed off, too. Friggin' hospitals, wringing every last emotion out.

“Hey,” he said, and lifted his hand lifelessly for a second. And that was all he said for a while. He looked out the window, around the room. At me. He had the makings of a tear forming in his eye, and I prayed he didn't cry because then I probably would, too. “Gotta meet this girl,” Dad said as he lay back into his pillow. He looked about as tired as anyone I'd ever seen.

“Naomi,” I said, and nodded. “You'll like her.”

He offered me a weak smile. Those smiles took a lot out of him, but he kept trying. I gave him one back.

 

Chapter Eighteen

 

I heard from Naomi after dinner, which I spent with Rosie and Mel at a restaurant down the street from the hospital.
Do you hate me?
Naomi had texted me.

Never. Do you hate me?
I texted back.

Never.

Our building, and I suppose Alicia's, since she discovered it, was about halfway between the hospital and Naomi's home on the other side of the park, so I didn't have to wait too long before I saw her. I felt like a musician about to go onstage, all nerves and bracing until I saw Naomi coming up the hill. Then I was onstage. The nerves dropped off me and I was okay.

Naomi walked with purpose to the top of the hill. I walked as fast as I could up my side of the hill until I was nearly out of breath. Naomi stopped once she saw me. She picked up her pace and reached out to touch my cheek. “Walter—”

“It's fine,” I said. Naomi walked into my arms. The palm of her soft glove slid along my cheek as she looked into my eyes. “It doesn't hurt.” The lights above us shimmered in her pupils. She blinked. I brushed a tear away with my thumb. Neon signs painted her face pinks and purples.

“And your dad,” she said, looking worried now, maybe even anxious.

“He's fine,” I said.

“I'm really…” Naomi didn't have the words, either. She nestled her head into my chest. “I'm really mad at you.”

She pulled back and was smiling. I was, too. “I know. You should be,” I said. “I'm mad at me, too. You can be mad. I'm sorry.”

We kissed. It had been too long since we kissed, our hands on each other's faces and necks; it probably looked like we were strangling each other. Naomi pulled back.

“So mad,” she said, looking into my eyes and touching my cheeks again. We laughed. It really didn't hurt anymore.

On top of our building, we sat on the roof and leaned on the edges, our arms touching, our heads aimed upward, looking at the sky and the stars with no city in sight. No people, no buildings, no cars or lights. Just the dark night sky.

“So I'm gonna say something, because I'm thinking it,” I said. “You were right. I was an ostrich with my head in the sand.”

“Huh?” Naomi asked.

“And I talked to Mel, and I am handsome and worthy of you,” I continued. “I just get intimidated easily. I mean you're really intimidating because you're so amazing, but you push me in all the right ways. You're the best thing to happen to me, and I want to be that for you, so I really think we should stay together.”

Naomi smiled and nuzzled into me.

“You sound like my brain,” she said. “I was really worried. It's just what my parents always warned me about—my big mouth, always getting me into trouble.” She shook her head. “You were so … Why couldn't I just chill and enjoy it? I thought you were done with me; I almost got you killed with my drama. I couldn't even call you, because I knew I'd just cause even more pain.”

“Talking to you would have been a much better pain than being alone with a face half made of hamburger,” I said. Naomi laughed. “I'm not done with you. Not by a long shot.”

“It was too real, seeing you at school,” Naomi said. Now she couldn't stop looking at me. “It's one thing to hear rumors, but something else to actually see it.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I wouldn't want to see it, either.”

Naomi took off her glove and touched my face again. “So I can be your girlfriend still?” she asked very softly. She cupped my bruised cheek in her hand and looked into my eyes. I placed my hand over hers.

“Yeah, you can be my girlfriend still, if I can be your boyfriend still,” I said. We were close enough that I moved my head near hers, ran my nose up her cheek. “I think that would be good.”

It was as if a bomb had gone off, or a land mine. Debris went flying everywhere, but somehow it all came back down just right. We had ground again. I hoped it would always be that way, that things could scatter and chaos could strike, but we'd always land softly—we'd always get back to here. Everything worked when I had Naomi.

“I think I might love you,” I said.

Naomi laughed, a happy laugh. “Oh, you think so? Yeah?”

“I do, I do love you,” I said.

“I love you, too,” Naomi said with no hesitation, a big, wide grin. “God, you're hot.” She turned her head away and slammed her eyes shut. “Oh my god. I'm such a dork. Don't break up with me.” She opened her eyes. “I say the stupidest things.”

I leaned back into her. She put her arms around my waist. “You're right to be mad at me, you know,” I said. “I was scared and I was holding back.”

“Why would you be scared?” Naomi asked. And she didn't scare me. I felt more comfortable with her than I did in my own skin. It wasn't her I was scared of.

“I'm not good with change,” I said. “But I'm ready and I know it now more than ever. And if you're mad and you can't give me a hundred percent, then I'll give you more, okay? I'll give a hundred-twenty or a hundred-thirty percent. It'll add up. I did the math.”

And Naomi gave me a hundred percent kiss. That was how I fought: by being with Naomi, by being together and being happy. That was the fighting. Because no one can fight the world we live in. You can't punch the concrete walls, you can't pull a gun on the city and tell it to change its ways, because you're not gonna win. But you can change it by existing inside it, by being a part of it. You can replace all the broken bulbs and relight the darkest alleys, one at a time, until the whole thing glows bright like Main Street.