Lennon's Jinx (28 page)

“She’ll
die,” Yeager says.

I grab Jonathan by his throat. “You’ll
sign those papers now. As far as I’m concerned you can crawl back into whatever
hole you crawled out of.”

Mom
stumbles backward. Denage reaches for my arm, but I shove her back with my free
hand.

Jonathan
doesn’t look as shocked as the doctor. “There’s no need for that,” Yeager says,
bolting upright and knocking over his chair.

“It’s
okay,” Jonathan says. “What if she dies from this protocol, and we haven’t done
our homework.”

“Well,
Dad. While you were smoking crack cocaine and shooting up heroin, I was taking
care of Currie. I spoke to several doctors, and they all agree this is her best
shot. You’re either in or you’re going back home. We’ve done just fine without
you.”

“I’m
not going anywhere.” For the first time since he arrived, Jonathan looks me in
the eye. “I just want to know all my options.”

I
bolt out of my chair and jerk his face toward mine, using his shirt collar. “This
is the only option.”

Jonathan
stands up. He bores his gaze into mine for a long time. For a moment, sadness
shadows his face. He relaxes, and when I loosen my grip, he leans over the
papers and signs.

“Do
I need to sign anything?” Mom asks.

“That
won’t be necessary.” The doctor gets up. “Let’s get started.”

I
return to Currie’s room. She looks at me expectantly. “Am I going to be okay?”

I
sit down on her bed. I won’t lie to her. “Remember when Zoe had to be put under
for her bone marrow transplant?”

Currie
nods. Her dark eyes shine. Fear runs across her face and claws at my chest. I
can’t take this, but I have no choice.

“The
doctor will make you sleep,” I say. “You’ll be asleep for several days while
they give you antivirals to attack the rabies.”

“Will
I die?” Her voice shakes.

My
throat tightens. “There’s always that possibility, but your chances are good.”

The
scent of shampoo clings to her hair. I inhale it. The smell takes me back to
when she was a baby. I want to pick her up and protect her from all the bad in
the world. If I’d called Kiki back, Currie would not be here.

Currie
throws her arms around me. “If I die, don’t put me in the ground. Promise me.”

I
kiss the top of her forehead. “I won’t, but that’s not going to happen.”

Both
her hands clutch one of mine. “Don’t leave me.” Her head leans against my
chest. Her warmth soaks into me.

“I
won’t. I’ll stay by your side until you wake. I’m going outside to get my
things though, before you fall asleep, but I’ll be right back.”

Currie
trembles. “Don’t be long.”

“Have
I ever let you down?”

“Yes.
You forgot to pick me up twice for dance.”

“That
was when I was fifteen, and once I was in jail for driving illegally to come
get you.”

“No
excuses this time,” she whimpers.

Mom
comes over and sits on the other side of her bed. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here.”

Currie
gives her a sour look. Heather smiles as if nothing’s wrong. Currie knows it
took Mom two hours to get to the hospital in Naperville. The sad thing is
Currie will eventually forgive and forget. I did that when I was little, but
that got old fast. You can only forgive so much.

“We’ll
wait here with you, Honey,” Jonathan says, “while Lennon gets his things.
Okay?”

“Yes,
Daddy.” Currie clings to him, and this really pisses me off. Hurt needles my
chest.

I
trudge out of the room and take the elevator. A nurse with the nametag of Betsy
smiles at me. I don’t respond to her because I’m numb inside.

The
limo driver waits outside right in the fire lane. Typical Jonathan.

I
gesture for him to open the trunk, and the driver pops the back. I grab my
duffel and my twelve string Taylor. “Go park the car.”

“Mr.
Tyler said to wait here.”

“You’re
parked in the fire lane, so move it.”

The
driver gets in and finds a spot not too far away. As I turn around to go back
in, Denage startles and stops me. “Can we talk?”

“What
for?” I break my promise to Currie and say, “You’ve got to be pretty messed up
to be with this fucked up family. What’s wrong with you? You’re psychoanalyzing
my dad, then you screw him. That’s pretty sick.” I wait for the slap, but it
doesn’t come.

“Your
father was briefly under my care.” When she reaches for my shoulder, I slap her
hand away.

“I
know that your dad let you down all those years,” she says.

I
laugh. “Let me down. That’s the understatement of the year. He didn’t exist for
my sister or me. He didn’t even want us.”

Her
espresso eyes rake over me. “That’s not true.”

“He
wanted Mom to have an abortion when she was pregnant with both of us.”

“He
never wanted that,” Denage says.

“Wow.
Jonathan, really has you fooled.” I study the black pearls in her ears. “Did
Jonathan buy you those earrings? You might want to make sure they’re real. Gifted
pearls are an ongoing joke in our family. Did he take you to Cabo, too? He does
that a lot when he wants to bed a woman.”

Denage
flinches. Rage darts across her eyes along with tiny gold flecks from the
street lamps.

“You
are not special,” I say. “You are just one of many Tyler women.”

She
takes in a sharp breath before her face finally softens. “Lennon, I know for a
fact that your father did not want an abortion. It took him many long hours of
therapy to come to terms with the reality that his mother tried to abort him
with a clothes hanger. She died shortly after, but your dad lived. Jonathan’s
dad used to beat him senseless, telling him how his mother never wanted him and
that Jonathan had killed her. I know that doesn’t give him an excuse for what
he did to you and Currie, but he had to deal with his own demons before he
could ever be a parent. Jonathan wants to make it up to you both.”

“That’s
not my mom’s story. She wanted us, not Jonathan. He kept her high all the time
so that she couldn’t think straight.”

“There
are two sides to every story.”

I
throw my hands up in the air, though her words give me pause. “Jonathan’s had
eighteen years to get his act together. It’s too late now. Currie and I don’t
need him.”

“You
may not, but Currie does. He’s been straight for almost three years. And every
visit he asks Currie to come and live with him. She won’t because of you. If
you go to college, which your dad is hoping you will, she’ll need a home. We
can give that to her.” Her eyes plead with me.

Enough
of this psycho-babble. “How convenient. You take my family so you can have one.
Fuck you!” Another promise to Currie I’ve broken.

“Your
dad wants you to move to LA, too, and attend school there. I know this isn’t
easy for you, but your dad’s trying. Give him a chance.”

“He
never gave us one. I can tell you stories that would make your toenails curl,
so if you don’t mind, unlike Jonathan, I have someone depending on me.” I shove
past her and stomp inside.

Great,
Jonathan’s found salvation. Denage isn’t as smart as I gave her credit for
earlier. She’s just another one of Jonathan’s totes, though she didn’t go
postal on me like the other ones would’ve for what I said to her. It’s not my
style to go off on one of Jonathan’s whores, but I’ve been over him for many
years now. And Denage doesn’t get him or our family.

Inside
the hospital room, Mom fusses over Currie. It’s all an act, but I never say
that to Currie because she eats up the attention. She’s already forgiven Mom.

Jonathan
smiles at Denage when she finally enters the room. Her mascara has run. I’d say
I felt bad for hurting her feelings, but I don’t. She needs to butt out of my
affairs. She’s a newcomer and won’t last long like the others, but at least, he
has someone to comfort him during all this.

The
anesthesiologist enters the room. “Ready, little lady?”

Doctor
Yeager walks in behind him.

Currie
shakes her head and reaches for me, so I sit on her bed. “We’ll do this
together,” I say. “Okay?”

She
swallows her worry down and clutches my hand. “Okay. Sing me that song you used
to always sing to me when I was a baby.”

After
the nurse hooks up the IV, the anesthesiologist begins the drip to put her
under.

“Count
backwards from ten, and you’ll be asleep before you know it,” the doctor says.

A
freakish pain stabs my chest as if it’s me going to sleep with her. “Little
Angel, go to sleep,” I sing. “Don’t let the rain keep you awake. Let it lull
you into the clouds. Don’t worry, the sun will wake you.”

I
wrote the song when she had nightmares, the first time Jonathan had left us. He
watches me and purses his lips because I told him what the song was about years
ago, a little girl frightened by the loss of her daddy. I hope it kills him.

I
kiss her and whisper, “Don’t forget to wake up. I love you, pumpkin.”

I
don’t let girls get to me, but you have dug into my skin.

Your
scent, your touch, your skin against mine.

Your
voice lifts me, burrows deep into my bones.

Chorus:

Girl,
you leave me confused.

I
just want one touch, one kiss.

You
might fly away. I don’t want that.

Confused,
dazed, out of my mind.

When
you’re near, I feel something more.

I
can’t explain this head rush, but when you’re close to me

I
want to hold you tight and take your breath away with mine.

Your
laughter brushes my skin like butterfly wings.

Your
voice carries me off to distant lands.

You’re
driving me insane.

Just
one kiss, one touch.

Currie has been in an induced
coma for two days now. The nurse gives her antivirals intravenously. Not much
has changed. Yeager had hoped for more progress at this point.

I
slump in the chair by her bed and read to her, like I did when she was little. She
loves books. Denage went to the local bookstore and got several of Currie’s
favorites, the
Warrior Cat
series,
Harry Potter
, and
The Neverending
Story
.

I
brush back the hair dangling in her eyes. I’m ready for her to stop sleeping
and for her to wake to her usual precocious self.

Nurse
Betsy showed me how to rub Currie’s muscles, so they don’t waste away. As
promised, I haven’t left her side. I’ve taken spit baths in her bathroom, so
I’m pretty rank, and my stubble itches my chin.

Since
she’s been under, I’ve written a dozen songs for Currie and even one for Jinx.
I sing them to remind Currie to wake and come back to me.

Mom
brings me cafeteria food. “You should eat, Lennon. You’ve lost weight.” She
puts down a sandwich and milk.

I
ignore her. Food has no appeal right now.

Denage
has sat with Jonathan the past few days. At night, they go back to the hotel
where he has a suite. They offered me a room, but I haven’t gone. He also paid
for a hotel for Mom. She mopes every time she sees them together, which is any
time they’re here. I’ve told her several times that she can do better. Maybe
this time, she’ll move on and get a real man.

Denage
has tried to get me alone several times to give me a pep talk about Jonathan
and his amazing recovery, but I avoid her. I’ve heard one too many of the Tyler
women’s stories.

Other
than Currie’s chest moving up and down, she hasn’t stirred. I press my hands to
my temples. I hate this. For every breath she lies unconscious, I die a little
more.

Betsy
comes into the room to check Currie’s catheter and other bodily functions. She
smiles at me. “You are such a good brother. Is there anything I can get you?”

I
could really use a blowjob and a keg of beer. “No thanks.” She’s already given
me a blanket and pillow for the reclining seat in the room where I try to sleep
beside Currie. I’ve gotten a few hours of shuteye but not enough.

Doctor
Yeager comes in to see Currie. “Can I have a moment with you?” he says to me.

“Sure.”
I follow him to his office. From his stern expression, Jonathan is pissed that
he wasn’t invited.

Yeager
doesn’t take a seat. “Lennon, her temperature is normal, but Currie’s not
responding to the antivirals like I’d hoped. I’d like to try another one.”

“What’s
the risk?” I ask.

“There’s
always the risk she won’t respond or she could have an adverse reaction to it.”

“What
if she doesn’t have the drug?”

“She
hasn’t had any brain damage because the rabies was caught early. I want to keep
it that way.”

A
light blinks in his office. “What’s that?” I ask.

Yeager
rushes out of his office down to Currie’s room. I run after him.

She’s
convulsing on the bed. Her arms and legs flop around like a fish out of water. I
stand out of the way so the doctor and nurses can do their job. I feel my heart
beat rabbit fast.

Jonathan
gets up. Terror opens his eyes wide. His whole body shakes. “You’re not helping
her. You’re killing her.”

I
go over to him and slam him down into the chair where I sleep every night. “Stay
out of this.”

Denage
goes to help him, but I shove her out of the way.

Jonathan
says, “Don’t touch her.”

The
bodyguards rush into the room, unsure what to do, while my hand pins down Jonathan.

“If
either of you get in the doctors’ way, I’ll have you both thrown out of here.”