Trying the Knot (28 page)

“Oh, no, I’m dead. As far as you’re
concerned, I’m washed out to sea. Dead! This changes everything –
everything!” She took a deep breath and feigned calmness as she
made her way to the awaiting Saab. Outside the car, she dressed and
remained as silent as the corpse their inaction conspired for her
to become.

Sopping wet and altogether annoyed, Tristana
thrust his tennis shoes into his gut. She ground her clove
cigarette contemptuously into the dirt and followed Alexa out of
the buggy pathway. She dropped his clothes and hoped the mosquitoes
consumed him.

It was now pouring as Jack had predicted. He
stood trembling, cold and alone in only his boxers and T-shirt. He
could hear Tristana trudging her way up the trail, and he could
smell her exotic perfume trailing behind her. Thankful for the
sudden downpour, the rain rendered his tears indistinguishable, and
he ran until he caught up with her.

Tristana stopped outside the unlocked car and
asked, “She always this volatile?”

“I don’t even know what that word means.”

“Crazy bonkers.”

“She just wigs out, she’ll get over it,” Jack
said, holding his clothes.

“But will you?” Tristana asked. She gently
helped him into his damp crumpled pants while standing in the rain.
While Jack struggled to get dressed, she decided this strangely
dejected and wounded specimen was not entirely unlike herself.
“Hey, I need to get out of this wet dress, you want to go someplace
and get naked?”

He nodded, and said he knew the perfect
place. Tristana took his hand and together they bravely approached
the car. They found Alexa sulking in the cramped backseat. Hoping
to lighten the mood, Tristana hummed a tune as they drove across a
bridge over a dried up stream.

“Hey, your only two friends in the world left
this for you,” Alexa said as she handed Jack a soggy note. Tristana
switched on the interior light, and Alexa read aloud, “You can run,
but you can’t hide – The C-twins.”

“Sounds like they really have it in for you,”
Tristana said needlessly. “I don’t get it. If your prom date was
driving, why do they blame you for her death?”

Conspiratorial silence befell the younger duo
until Tristana finally asked, “Where are we headed? Does anyone
have the slightest clue?”

Ashen with fear, Jack tossed the waterlogged
note out the window, but it stuck to the other side of the glass
like a bad omen.

“Maybe we should just call it a night,” Alexa
suggested.

“No, we’re going to break into the old junior
high,” Jack said.

“Is that very smart?” Alexa asked
cautiously.

“You’re such a tight-ass,” Jack snarled
menacingly. “You never want to do anything fun. Why don’t you leave
for college tonight.”

“I don’t feel like going to jail is all,”
Alexa said, wishing she were still pretending to be dead. “I’m not
interested in visiting your second home.”

“Dudes, it’s foolproof. I worked there last
summer,” Jack reassured. “I know how to get in and out.”

The Saab passed two police cars parked on the
side of the road. The vacant county vehicles inspired a maniacal
grin to flash across Jack’s face, and he suggested they steal a
police car.

“Isn’t that Deputy Czerwinski?” Alexa asked.
She peered out the window and inspected the situation at hand.
“Someone should tell him his terrible twosome is on a bloodthirsty
rampage.”

“He’s probably screwing that Amazon police
woman with the hairy moles on her face,” Jack speculated.
Tristana’s Saab rolled to a stop, and they gaped in horror as a
bare-assed policewoman exited the back door of the patrol car in
order to relieve her bladder alongside the road. Having been a
passenger in more than one police car, Jack suddenly was struck
with an ingenious idea. He instructed them to sit tight, and he
would return momentarily.

Nervously, Tristana and Alexa watched out the
rearview mirror as Jack made his way inconspicuously to the car
where Czerwinski and his constable concubine were fornicating in
the backseat. The policewoman crawled back into the car, careful to
leave the backdoor ajar.

Back inside the Saab, they waited with baited
breath. Alexa asked, “What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know, but I wish he’d hurry up,”
Tristana said. Even as they watched him slam the backdoor shut and
run toward them, they were unsure what had just happened.

“Drive drive drive,” Jack ordered.

“Wonderful, now we’re going to have to flee
from the police?” Alexa asked bemused.

“They’re not going anywhere anytime soon,”
Jack laughed.

“What do you mean?”

“They’re trapped back there, there ain’t no
door handles in the backseat,” Jack explained.

Tristana shook her head. “This town is one
excitement after another.”

“They’re going to have to radio for help, and
will have a lot of explaining to do,” Jack said proudly. “Hurry,
let’s get inside the old junior high, so we can report them.”

Alexa rattled off the directions for
Tristana’s benefit, and the silver Saab zoomed in the direction of
the massive building sitting vacant in a state of neglect and
decay.

chapter thirteen

Resting on the hospital bed, Ben sat
alongside Evangelica while holding onto her listless hand.
Occasionally, he lifted her flaccid fingers to his mouth to gift
them with affectionate kisses. He was shocked at how peaceful and
delicate Vange appeared swaddled in the crisp white sheets. Her
wavy auburn hair was matted straight, and her flawless face was
scrubbed clean. Her ordinarily expressive, heart-shaped mouth was
clamped shut and downturn. He ran the back of his fingers over her
creamy smooth forearm and issued hushed words of endearing
encouragement.

Looking uncomfortable, Chelsea moved away and
leaned against the window. The shadowy hospital room was deathly
silent except for sporadic streams of coughs erupting from down the
hall. The doctor had given explicit permission for them to camp out
in Evangelica’s room for as long as they desired. Necessity
sometimes dictated small town doctors act as a pop-psychologist,
and Dr. Paull believed bending the rules at times could be equally
beneficial to his patients as their caregivers. Moreover, he had
thousands of dollars invested in a wedding, and the sound mental
health of the bride and groom was required for it to unfold as
planned. Evangelica had not received any visitors since noon except
for Kate, and she was presently passed out in a room across the
hall with Nick tending her bedside needs.

Chelsea bit off a fingernail and watched Ben
comfort an oblivious Evangelica. In between neurotic gnawing, she
said, “This place is bogus” or “This place barfs me out.”

“You’re right, it’s too quiet,” Ben agreed.
“We should play music for her. All her favorite songs, like The
Clarke Sisters or Ella Fitzgerald. Maybe then she would wake
up.”

“She likes all that old music, doesn’t
she?”

“Yeah, jazz and gospel. The blues. You should
see her Etta James impression.” Ben smiled remembering. He stuffed
his hands in his pockets, paused for a few guilt-plagued minutes
and then began, “You know –

“What, Ben? You can tell me.” She encouraged
him to continue as she inched her way closer to the mechanical
bed.

He sighed. “Never mind.”

“That’s not fair. Please, tell me.”

“Well, Vange did call someone last night,” he
said barely audible. “She called me.”

Chelsea placed a hand on his shoulder and
wrapped an arm around him. She rested her head on his shoulder and
waited for what was to come next. Ben placed Evangelica’s hand on
her own chest as if she suffered from a broken heart, and she was
the only one dependable enough to fix it.

“I—I’m sorry,” Chelsea said, holding onto him
from behind.

“I should be the one who’s sorry,” he said.
“I guess I’m not a great friend. Maybe you’re right, Chels. Maybe I
am an asshole.”

Biting her lower lip, Chelsea toyed with his
glossy black hair. She was unsure how to comfort him. He dug for
the suicide note harbored in the recesses of his pocket. He
intended to share it with her, but when he turned to face her,
Chelsea asked flatly, “Ben, are you sleeping with my mother?”

He quickly returned the note to his pocket
and wondered what she could be thinking. Looking guiltily down at
Vange’s angelic looking face, he said, “My bike’s still at the
lounge, remember? You’d better take me there.”

Chelsea suddenly felt utterly foolish and
stepped away from him. She was lost for words. All she could think
about was her dread for the day ahead of them, of pretending to be
happy and festive when all she wanted to do was scream. She
abruptly left the room, not as to enable Ben to say good-bye in
private, but because she felt so horribly awkward. From the
hallway, she watched him lean over the bed, take Evangelica’s hand
into his own and softly kiss her unresponsive mouth. He paused
there, breathing in her breaths until he grabbed the bed railing.
She could tell by the way he was shaking he was crying, wiping his
tears on her cheeks.

He stayed there until he regained his
composure. Before leaving her side, he whispered affectionately,
“See you soon, okay?”

Turning from the display of intimacy, Chelsea
wiped away her own tears and noticed Nick sleeping in a chair in
the room opposite Evangelica’s. Kate lay with her back to him, and
her catatonic stare gave no indication of seeing Chelsea standing
flustered in the hallway. Ben walked briskly past Chelsea, and she
had to jog in order to catch up with him. Together they made their
way out of the morose hospital. Ben intended to put as much
distance as he could fathom between himself and his employer’s
overly inquisitive daughter.

Once outside in the rain saturated parking
lot, they watched Thad’s rusted-out Datsun chug past as if hacking
up its last mile. Ben could not help but wince as the car grounded
to a halt, and Chelsea grimaced at the sight of the polluting fumes
pouring from the exhaust.

With his camera still hanging around his
neck, Thad walked through the drizzle and joined them outside
Chelsea’s classic Malibu. He said, “I thought I’d take a break from
the newspaper and check on things.”

“It’s kind of late to be working, don’t you
think?” Chelsea asked.

“There’s an early morning deadline, and we’re
swamped,” Thad said. “You’re leaving?”

“Yup, my bike is still at the lounge,” Ben
said regretfully. He was tempted to join Thad as he dreaded the
ride with Chelsea.

After giving Thad an unexpected hug, Chelsea
opened her car door and informed him, “Kate and Nick are across the
hall from Evangelica.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Kate or Vange?”

“Both.”

Chelsea ran her hands through her thick blond
hair and worriedly shook her head. For the first time since early
morning, her eyes reflected a doubtfulness suggesting perhaps it
was no longer a good idea to tell Kate anything about Nick and
Vange’s tryst. “Kate’s trying to sleep, and I can’t say I blame
her. She’s upset.”

“I thought she was having a nervous breakdown
on the floor earlier,” Ben added.

“She’s in an awful state,” Chelsea finished.
The streetlight shone off her oily forehead, and she looked
agitated.

“What about Vange?”

Chelsea shook her head and turned away
speechless.

Ben choked. “Things don’t look good at all.
According to Dr. Paull, she’s in critical condition. She’s really
weak, and if her heart stops again there’s not a lot they can
do.”

“Sounds bleak,” Thad said, and he asked how
they were holding up. With sad wonderment, Chelsea entered her car.
To prevent bursting into tears, she gave a little wave and chewed
on her lower lip. Ben offered Thad a grim shrug of hopelessness,
and then he climbed in next to the distraught driver. Chelsea
started the car, and heavy raindrops sounded dull plops against the
windshield.

Thad unconsciously lit a cigarette, and for a
few moments after they drove away he stood watching the sprinkling
rain hit the pavement. When he entered the barren hospital, the
nurse on duty glanced at her watch and gave him an approving nod,
and he walked past. Once inside Evangelica’s intensive care room,
Thad felt uneasy. All these concessions for breaking the rules were
definitely not a good sign, and he assumed the worst. He inherently
understood breaking the rules was an extension of things being out
of the ordinary. Only extraordinary circumstances called for the
abandonment of structure that accompanied rules and regulations,
and the absence of rules served as a flashing red warning-sign in
his brain.

The digital clock above Vange’s bed read
10:15. Time was irrelevant, except the numbers were the same as her
birthday, October 15th. Thad wondered if there was any significance
to the coincidence. He sat on the edge of an old vinyl chair and
rubbed his hand over his forehead until he worked up the nerve to
tend his comatose friend.

After several minutes of sitting there, he
rose to his feet and stood at the foot of her bed. Spontaneously,
he snapped a couple of pictures of Evangelica.

“Oh, you’re here,” a hoarse voice penetrated
the shadowy darkness. Blinded by the flash, Thad glanced over his
shoulder and Nick came into focus in the doorway. Thad remained
speechless because he could feel the searing animosity Nick aimed
at him like a hot poker.

“What’re you doing?” Nick asked. He joined
Thad at the end of the bed. “Taking her picture? That’s so weird,
Thad. What’s wrong with you?”

Thad moved away from Nick, and he found
himself boxed between Vange’s bed and the window. Too apprehensive
to move, he faced the door and yearned to be free.

“I was on my way out.”