Skin and Bones (15 page)

“Scratch that. I’ll have lasagna with extra meat sauce,” Elsie said. “A side order of flour tortillas and diet soda. Large.”

Nancy ordered grilled fish.

Dr. Chu chose a BLT. “And bring a platter of sliced turkey breast, low-fat cottage cheese, and hard-boiled eggs.” For the salads.

Dessert wound up being a forty-five minute meeting back at the hospital to discuss the outing. The girls seemed okay with the experience and suggested it as a weekly activity. Bones said he thought he would have been less anxious if he could have seen a menu ahead of time.

Elsie said that was dumb. “That isn’t how it’ll be when we get out of here.”

Lard was quick to point out that better restaurants had websites and posted their menus. “That’s how people who care about what they eat decide where they want to go.”

Score one for the beta males.

All of a sudden Bones was aware of gas gurgling in his stomach.
From the cottage cheese and hard-boiled eggs!
He rushed down the hall to his room, pressing his hands into his gut to keep it from expanding.

Bones didn’t remember falling asleep that night but then he never remembered. He woke up worn out from the field trip and his first day in the exercise room. Normally he would’ve been ecstatic to spend twenty minutes jogging between a Sunny Health Fitness Indoor Cycling Bike and Anti-Burst Gym Ball. But Unibrow stuck to him like stink. The guy must have lived on raw garlic.

He rolled over and clutched his pillow to his chest. In his drowsy state he wondered if anyone would notice if he slept through breakfast. Yeah, right. He forced himself up on one elbow, and squinted at Lard, who was at his desk with his girls: Rachael, Julia, and Martha. Giada had recently joined the harem.

Bones yawned. “What time is it?”

“I need another way to cook SPAM,” Lard said. “Or shoot myself in the foot.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Lard disappeared into the bathroom. From the sounds emanating through the doorway, the cubicle would need fumigating before Bones could go in there.

“That’s what I call a dump,” came Lard’s voice with a flush. He surfaced tying the drawstrings on his pants. “If I was as crazy as you are, I’d weigh it.”

Bones was turning his socks inside out so he could get another day out of them. “Feces is fifty percent water,” he said.

Lard grunted. “Only you would know that.”

“I didn’t get this way by not knowing a thing or two about a thing or two.”

“Ya think?”

“Try a garnish,” Bones said. “Just tie a scallion around it or something.”

“Sometimes you scare me, man.”

“I’m talking about SPAM, you idiot, not the turd.”

Lard groaned. “And
I’m
talking about you’re crazy. You don’t have to tackle everything at once. Just start with one or two things, like losing the gloves. That was a start.”

The scary thing was Bones knew what Lard meant. They were turning into an old married couple, reading each other’s minds and finishing each other’s sentences. Bones wondered when they’d start to look alike. Not a happy thought.

“And you’re definitely less obsessed with calisthenics than you were when you first got here.” Lard said. “You made it through lunch at the restaurant without having a heart attack. So technically, that’s three things.”

That didn’t make Bones feel better.

It made him feel fat.

When Alice moved back to the ward, things quickly returned to normal, meaning Alice, Bones, Lard, and Teresa hung out during meals, between meetings, and after writing assignments.

Alice had recovered faster than any of her doctors had thought, notably because she’d had such close supervision. She couldn’t exercise in ICU without a nurse ratting her out, and it was nearly impossible to get rid of food. She’d been pumped with electrolyte solutions, vitamins, nutritional supplements, and who knew what else.

Alice sat down next to Bones at the lunch table, looking healthy and radiant in her black leotard. Instead of translucent skin her cheeks had a peachy blush. She wore her diamond studs, like the first time he’d seen her. A scarf hung in a way that caressed her beautiful breasts. They were fuller, plumper. Rumors about malnutrition, acute kidney failure, and shrinking heart muscle were nothing but strategy to exploit fear.

Dr. Chu delivered her lunch tray himself. “Vegetable soup and a fruit salad,” he said.

Alice stared at her tray like she was reading tea leaves—calculating all two-hundred-and-fifty calories. Then she counted her vitamins. “I’m only supposed to get supplements once a day.”

“It’s great to have you back,” Dr. Chu said before returning to the cart for another tray.

Alice covered a bored yawn. “I’m up to eighty-two pounds.”

Bones wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked. Healthier. Stronger. As indestructible as hospital biscuits. Vitamins, he wanted to say, don’t have many calories.

“As I see it, most of the world is just getting by—but that isn’t good enough for a dancer.” She pulverized a grape with the bowl of her spoon. “You have to work hard all the time. Never hold anything back.”

She paused taking in Bones’s star-struck gaze. It had been an agonizing five days without her. “What’s the worst that can happen? You fall down. Big flippin’ deal. You know what’s worse?”

Bones shook his head.

“Not giving it everything you have.” She glanced around, ready to swipe the grape-encrusted spoon in her napkin. “That’s worse than giving up.”

Dr. Chu suddenly reappeared. “May I join you?”´

Alice muttered, “
Piqué
.”

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.

Bones smirked.

She’d called him a prick.

Dr. Chu sat with them through every agonizing bite until nothing was left but shredded napkins. Then he straightened his Mickey Mouse tie and excused himself.

“You know what I use my journal for?” Alice asked.

Bones tried to think of a clever answer but failed. “What?”

“To remind myself who I really am. Because Chu Man has some bizarre power to rewire our brains and personalities, transforming us into someone even our best friends wouldn’t recognize.”

It didn’t seem that farfetched.

“You know what I did upstairs to keep from going insane?”

Bones was afraid to ask. “No.”

“I used the sheet as a stage letting my fingers form steps in a ballet called
Giselle
. It’s about a peasant girl who falls in love with a nobleman.” Alice found his calf under the table with her bare foot and began rubbing tingling little circles. “It gave me an idea for a new exercise routine, but I need—”

“I can’t, Alice,” he said and pulled his leg away from her foot. “I mean, you could’ve died.”

“You don’t love me anymore, do you?” she said, pretending to pout. “It’s because I’ve gotten
fat
.”

Fat
hung in the air above their table.

It was the last thing she said to him for a very long time.

Alice had spent five days on the sixth floor at the mercy of sadistic nurses armed with syringes. Rumor had it that she had multiple transfusions to replace all the vials of blood they’d drawn. As if that even made sense.

Missing Alice and knowing he’d been responsible for her being so sick was agony. But having Alice back on the EDU and not speaking to him, was akin to drowning in a vat of chocolate syrup. She ate by herself, avoiding eye contact, and, other than therapy sessions, Bones rarely saw her. He assumed she was in her room practicing for auditions.

Lard kept saying, “She’s moody, man. But don’t worry, it never lasts.”

Bones kept asking, “How long?”

“It isn’t like she plays by the same rules as anyone else,” Lard said.

Life was cruel and unfair.

On day two of the silent treatment—twenty-two-hours-and-fifty-three minutes worth—Bones gathered the CRAP pages and slid them under Alice’s door. Later that afternoon, Lard shuffled in from his shift in the kitchen. “Dinner’s prepped,” he said. “Let’s hit the roof.”

It was one of those days when the sky looked close enough to touch. Just reach up and scoop a handful of clear blue space. Bones made his way around all the junk in practiced steps and then saw Alice relaxing on her yoga mat, legs crossed at the ankles. Her eyes were closed, her face lifted to the sacred sun.

From where Bones stood he could see the freckles on her nose. He could meditate on those freckles. She wore a sheer blouse that slid off one shoulder. His eyes drew a line from the curve of her long neck to her sculpted back. A peasant skirt was hiked up showing off her milky white legs.

Lard shoved by him. “I told you she’d get over it.”

Alice stirred, showing the secret hollow of her inner thigh. “Where’ve you been?” she asked, squinting up at them.

Bones could barely talk. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi yourself.”

Alice fished a cigarette and matches from her silver case, and he hurried over to light it for her. She smiled at him, inhaled, and blew out a thin stream of smoke. They were silent for a few minutes.

“I didn’t know you were a writer,” she finally said.

“Writer?”

“The story you slipped under my door.”

Then he got it. Alice thought he’d written down what she’d told him about Calvin and Lily. A forthright person would have explained that he’d found the pages, not written them. But he couldn’t resist an opportunity to impress her. “The plot was so interesting I decided to mess around with it,” he said. “Expand it a bit.”

Then he shrugged, all humble like.

“No really,” she said. “I think it’s great.”

Meanwhile, Lard was digging frantically in the tomato bed for his stash. “So
not
funny, Alice.”

“What am I being accused of now?” she asked.

Lard snarled at her. “What’d you do with it?”

“Maybe you hid it somewhere else?” Bones suggested. “In with the zucchini or peppers?”

Lard sat back with a groan and wiped dirt from his hands. “Gumbo,” he said wearily. “I should’ve been more careful.”

“He wouldn’t rat you out, would he?” Bones asked.

“Nah, he probably just flushed it down the john.”

Alice cocked her head mischievously. Her legs were still stretched out, inviting the sun to dance on her silky skin. “Listen up,” she said. “I have a simple proposal. You are required to hear me out and are forbidden to say
no
.”

Lard started to say something but she waved him quiet with her cigarette. “It involves a surprise party—”

“You can’t surprise yourself,” Lard said irritably.

“Why not? And stop interrupting me. It makes you seem like an impatient jerk that can’t wait for me to finish my thoughts.”

Then she sniffed, just the right effect.

As the plan unfolded, Lard began to chuckle, even though it involved breaking more rules than they could count. The most serious infraction being leaving hospital grounds without permission. Further details included Lard’s ’98 Celica as the getaway car.

She wasn’t kidding.

Whoa
.

“I won’t survive another day in here,” she said, lolling sideways. “Not without having a little fun.”

Bones thought this was an entirely bad idea, but he also knew he had to go along with it to keep an eye on her. A little fun wouldn’t hurt him either.

Lard decided to go with the plan, because (1) he was depressed about losing his dope, (2) Alice was intent on taking his car, and (3) going on a road trip was the least of the more serious infractions she’d offered up.

“You don’t have to worry about getting caught,” she said. “I’ve got everything figured out. And Lard? Try to look presentable.”

The rendezvous time (2:45 p.m.) was right after GT, which gave them three hours before dinner, the time usually designated for assignments. The meeting place was the same for each of them: hospital parking structure.

Alice’s excitement was infectious.

How could Bones say no?

Alice got to the parking lot first. She was sitting on the trunk of the ancient Celica, which was the color of a Cheese Doodle left in the sun too long. Toyota didn’t even make these babies anymore.

She looked so different like this, so intensely sexy and beautiful and wonderful, Bones felt shy all over again. She had on a loose skirt and a low-cut black sweater. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail. She wore dark eyeliner and pale lipgloss.

“You look amazing,” he said, knowing they’d never get away with this.

Alice re-crossed her legs working her prowess as a cock-teaser.

Bones wondered if she wore panties under her skirt. And what color they were. Black, he decided, and lacy. Probably a thong. Out of necessity he changed his focus to the Mercedes ornament on the Celica’s hood.
Classy
.

Lard showed up, sweaty and stressed out. But his jeans and T-shirt were stain-free. “Let’s get out of here before someone sees us.”

Alice held out her hand for the keys. “Can I drive?”

“No way,” Lard said.

“I have a license,” she said.

“Since when?”

“Last month.”

“Liar.”

Lard unlocked the door, crammed in behind the wheel, and scooted the seat back. He reached across the cracked vinyl to open the passenger side. “Come on, you two delinquents. Let’s make tracks!”

Bones folded himself under the low ceiling in the backseat. Not easy since he had to wade through squashed energy drink cans, an empty Bud Light bottle, and a litterbag with the governor’s face on it. Aside from all the trash, the car’s interior was trash.

He pushed a smelly sack of potatoes off the seat. “You making vodka back here?”

“What happens in the Doodle stays in the Doodle,” Lard said and tossed his keys over his shoulder in a low arc. “Stash the spuds in the trunk.”

Bones squeezed out on Lard’s side with the rotten potatoes and opened the trunk. “Did you know your tags are expired?” he hollered.

“Just hurry up!” Lard hollered back.

“We can get pulled over for that,” Bones said.

Lard stuck his head out the open window. “Was this my idea?”

“Just don’t speed or run any lights or hit any pedestrians,” Alice’s voice filtered out.