Traplines Page 11

  Then there were the bills. In spite of everything, Jeremy had paid off the electric bill, had shown him the receipt. Tom had checked it out himself, privately, and discovered that Jeremy was telling the truth. They were all paid up. Jeremy had tacked the phone bill up on the wall of their bedroom and circled how much they owed. If he screwed up with Jeremy, the chances that his cousin would pay off the bills were very, very small.

  So. He’d stick it out. He’d get laughed at and bossed around. Big deal. How long could it last? A month? Two months? Only he hated it. He didn’t know if he could face another day of being stared at. Time to talk to his cousin.

  He took a deep breath, then another. He went into the living room, where his cousin was zoning out in front of MuchMusic.

  “Could you turn it down?” Tom said.

  Jeremy shook his head.

  “I got to talk to you!”

  “Later!” Jeremy shouted back, eyes narrowed to slits, not looking at him.

  Tom stayed for a few more minutes, then left, disgusted.

  He searched his bedroom, his mother’s bedroom, the hallway closet, and the bathroom but couldn’t find his clothes. The stuff hanging up in his own closet made him cringe. Nerdball stuff.

  The bedroom door opened and he expected to see Jeremy. He was surprised to see Uncle Richard and then completely surprised when Uncle Richard’s fist connected with his jaw. He hit the wall and Uncle Richard grabbed his shirt, held him up by it.

  “Where is she?” Uncle Richard said, his voice completely calm.

  “I nono,” Tom said, his mouth not working properly.

  Uncle Richard pushed his face right up against Tom’s, his flat black eyes wide and blank. “You’re lying,” Richard said.

  “No, twuth.”

  Tom saw the fist coming this time and put his arms up. The fist hit the wall beside him and he heard the plaster give.

  “I can hurt you,” Uncle Richard said. He pulled his fist back. “Don’t lie to me anymore. I don’t like it.”

  Unsteadily, Uncle Richard reached to pull him close, grabbing a fistful of shirt. Tom kicked out, getting him in the shins, and Uncle Richard’s face distorted. But even shocked and in pain, Uncle Richard kept his grip. Tom tried to bite his hands, tried to force them off, but he couldn’t get out of Uncle Richard’s stranglehold. Tom went for the groin, tried poking him in the eyes, while Richard slammed him against the wall, pulled him up, slammed him again.

  Then Uncle Richard was collapsing, dragging him down, and Jeremy was standing over them with a baseball bat. Uncle Richard let him go and charged Jeremy, who swung and connected with Uncle Richard’s shoulder. Jeremy popped him in the temple next and he went down. Jeremy prodded him in the side. When Uncle Richard didn’t move, he raised the bat and brought it down on the man’s right knee, then on his left. He hit him in the sides, paused, hit him on the shoulders. Tom could hear the dull thunk of a bone cracking.

  “S’nough,” Tom said, when Jeremy raised the bat again.

  Jeremy paused, then hit Uncle Richard in the groin. Uncle Richard didn’t move and Tom was afraid he was dead.

  Jeremy came over and helped him up carefully.

  “S’nough,” Tom said.

  “I heard you, you moron,” Jeremy said. He set Tom down on the bed. “When he comes back here and beats the crap out of you, you remember that you’re the one who stopped me.”

  “Call amb’lance. ’S hurt.”

  “Yes, he is,” Jeremy said. “How’d he get in?”

  “ ‘S got a key.”

  “She let him have a key? How many other guys have keys?”

  Tom didn’t like what he was implying. “Jus’ him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Tom glared at him. Jeremy got up and searched through Uncle Richard’s clothes until he found the key, which he pocketed before he took Uncle Richard by the ankles and dragged him from the room.

  Tom came to, not knowing when or where he’d passed out, struggling against the seat belt before Jeremy said, “Don’t bleed on the seat! Jesus, here!” He handed him a rag. “Hold it over your lip!”

  He had a vague impression of the drive, then of a waiting room and a nurse handing him a lemon-scented napkin, the kind that Kentucky Fried Chicken gave out. As he sat, leaning against Jeremy, his muscles hurt in a familiar way. Before he’d gone on medication, he used to wake up like this a lot. He didn’t really mind the seizures. They were over in five, maybe ten minutes and he didn’t remember them. It was when he woke up and people’s attitudes about him had changed—they tiptoed around him, spoke to him as if he couldn’t understand them, or just avoided him altogether.

  Leaning against Jeremy wasn’t comfortable and he was tired. He curled up on the waiting-room couch and closed his eyes.

  “… despite the blows to his head, nothing’s showing up on the X ray,” a woman’s voice said, as he surfaced again. “We’d like to keep him here a few days, just to be on the safe side. Do you have his Carecard?”

  “No,” Jeremy said. “I can pay cash.”

  “Uncle,” Tom said. “Richard.”

  Jeremy and the woman in a white lab coat stared at him.

  “Hello,” the woman said. He recognized her, one of the doctors who’d done tests on him before. Dr. Ahava leaned over him and shone a flashlight in his eyes. “How you feeling, Tom?”

  “Hiya, space cadet,” Jeremy said at the same time. “Welcome back to planet Earth.”

  “He okay?”

  “Who?” Jeremy said. He focused again. “Richard.”

  “Yeah, he’s still breathing,” Jeremy said. He turned to the woman. “Guy who punched him out. Mother’s boyfriend.”

  Dr. Ahava tsk-tsked. She tested his ribs gently. “How hard did he hit you, Tom?”

  “Not too hard.”

  “Hmmm. How long after he hit you did you have the seizure?”

  “Seizure?” Tom said, puzzled. “I didn’t have a seizure.”

  “About ten, maybe fifteen minutes,” Jeremy said.

  “He’s lying,” Tom said. “I’m fine. I’ve got a headache, that’s all.”

  “Tom,” she said, patiently. “This is very important. I need you to tell me the truth. Have you had any other seizures lately?”

  “No. Just some bad auras.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “You wouldn’t lie to me?”

  “No. I didn’t have a seizure. I’m sure of it.”

  Dr. Ahava exchanged knowing looks with Jeremy. Tom’s eyes began to droop. He was so tired, could feel himself falling asleep. He was sore, too, just like … after a seizure. Christ. She asked him more questions and he thought he answered them but couldn’t be sure.

  “You listen to your cousin,” she said before she left. “Press charges. You shouldn’t let him get away with this.”

  Then Jeremy lowered the bed so he was lying flat. Someone on the other side of the curtain was snoring. The walls were a shade of green that he found nauseating. Here he was. Back in the hospital. His favorite place in the whole fucking world.

  “We’ll go to the police station when you get out,” Jeremy said.

  Tom shook his head. “Won’t.”

  Jeremy looked stubborn. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

  Tom closed his eyes, refusing to be drawn in. He heard Jeremy get up. The swinging overhead lamp snapped off. As he was going under, he heard Jeremy say, “You moron.”

  “You’ve missed your last three appointments,” Dr. Ahava started off saying when she came and sat by his bed after he finished his breakfast.

  “I’ve still got enough stuff.” Tom crossed his arms over his chest. “I haven’t had a seizure in four years.”

  “You had one last night,” Dr. Ahava said. Her eyes bored into him. She had sharp gray eyes that were perfect for boring.

  “Nothing happened. I’m perfectly all right.”

  “Tom,” she said. “You had a seizure. Your cousin saw it.
Why would he lie?”

  “Because he’s a prick,” Tom said.

  Dr. Ahava made a note, scribbling something long and damning. He felt his heart picking up speed, thinking of foster homes and hospitals and all the things the doctor could convince his mother to do.

  “Tom, I’m going to ask you again.” She put aside her pen and clipboard. “Did you have a seizure?”

  “Maybe.”

  She leaned forward. “What?”

  He sighed, then repeated it louder.

  Dr. Ahava nodded. “Look, I have no idea what caused a seizure after so long without an incident. Maybe your medicine is inadequate or your body chemistry is changing. Maybe it was just the blow to your head. Maybe it’s something more serious. We simply won’t know unless we do some more tests.”

  “Yeah, I know the routine.”

  “If you want your seizures back under control,” Dr. Ahava said, “you have to cooperate.”

  “I know. I will. I am.”

  “Good,” she said, suddenly energetic. “Let’s get cracking.”

  His mother came in the afternoon and caught him napping. He hated it when people watched him sleep.

  “You okay, Tommy?”

  He sat up. “Yeah. Everyone’s just making a big deal out of nothing. I’m fine, really. I’m just tired.”

  Tears leaked down her face as she touched his fat lip. “It looks real bad, Tommy.”

  He flinched. “Looks worse than it is.”

  “I’m so sorry. I am. I really am.”

  “It’s not your fault. It’s not even Richard’s fault. Look, I’m okay.”

  “Jeremy says …” She stopped.

  “What?”

  “He says … it happened.”

  Oh, fuck, Tom thought. “Just a little one.”

  “Oh,” she said, not looking at him. “Well. Well. I brought you some pajamas. Mrs. Tupper baked some cookies for you. Mike called.” She wiped her nose and smiled. “Jeremy’s taking me to Kiss of the Spider Woman! Can you imagine?” She giggled. “Me, all dressed up and going to a musical.”

  “When?”

  “Next week.” Her eyes were bright as she talked. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up she was gone.

  The day they checked out of the hospital Dr. Ahava said, “I’ve talked to your cousin. He said he’s watching you while your mother works. Is that true?”

  Tom turned to Jeremy, who was looking very earnest. Jeremy winked at him.

  “Yes,” Tom said faintly.

  Dr. Ahava looked satisfied. “Good. He can drive you to your next appointment this Friday. I will see you here, won’t I? Four o’clock sharp?”

  “Yes.”

  Dr. Ahava shook hands with Jeremy. “Good meeting you. See that he doesn’t forget.”

  His cousin rocked on his heels. “I’ll do my best.”

  Jeremy drove him home. Tom collapsed on the couch. His cousin went out and came back.

  “She’s still not home,” he said.

  Tom opened one eye. “Must be working.”

  Jeremy grunted. “If she worked as much as you say she does you guys wouldn’t be so deep in the hole, would you?”

  Tom put his arm over his eyes and ignored him.

  When he woke, the apartment was still. He was hungry but didn’t want to move. Jeremy, he saw, had left some chocolate pudding on the coffee table.

  His lip was still twice its normal size and the bruise that surrounded it was dark purple with green edges. There was a cut near the center that hurt whenever he closed his mouth. He hadn’t wanted to go to school but Jeremy had pronounced him fit and that had been that.

  He was glad when the buzzer rang for math and glad that there wasn’t any band today, not that he could play. The last person he wanted to see right now was Paulina. He wasn’t used to his clothes; he hated being a freak.

  His mom had been gone for three days. The laundry plant had called and left a message on their machine saying they needed her tonight, could she make it in? He wondered if Uncle Richard had gotten to her after Jeremy pounded him. He kept seeing her dead. He was tired and couldn’t focus; his nerves felt raw.

  Jeremy hadn’t let him go back to sleep the night before. Tom had woken up and it had been dark except for sudden blinding flashes. Jeremy was taking pictures.

  Tom had held his hands in front of his eyes. “What the hell—”

  “Evidence,” Jeremy had said. “When we catch old Ricky, your bruises will probably be gone.”

  “I’m not pressing charges! Fuck! How many times do I have to tell you? It’s all right. We’re even!”

  “You forgive him? He punches you around and you forgive him? You stupid little moron. That’s what’s going to get you killed.”

  They’d argued about it for a long time. He wouldn’t give in. Mom’d be upset, think it was her fault, and leave. He knew she would, and then he’d have to run away. He hated foster homes, hated being someone’s charity case, hated having to be grateful all the time. Jeremy might stick around for a while, but Tom didn’t know how much longer he could put up with him.

  When the buzzer rang, Tom jumped in his seat. The class felt like it had just started. The drugs were making him spacey. He followed the others out of the classroom and walked straight into Paulina.

  “Hi,” she said, staring at his lip.

  “Hi,” he said, his hands trying to find pockets. He wasn’t wearing jeans though, and the pants he had on didn’t have any pockets.

  “Someone must really love you,” she said, fascinated by his bruise. “Does it hurt?”

  “Only when I laugh,” he said.

  She smiled. She had a beautiful smile, all teeth and cotton-candy pink lips. “Where’s your brother?”

  Tom blinked. “Who?”

  “Jeremy, you nerd,” she said, nudging him.

  “He’s my cousin,” Tom said. “He’s not my brother.”

  She looked confused. “That’s not what he says.”

  That liar. “Yeah, well, Jeremy exaggerates sometimes.”

  Paulina hugged herself. “I think it’s sweet. Him acting like your big brother. You’re so lucky. Tell him I can’t make it tonight, but I’ll see him tomorrow at the same place.”

  “You’re … seeing Jeremy?”

  She winked. “If he behaves himself. Bye!” She pecked his cheek.

  He leaned against the locker to stop himself from falling over. Jeremy knew. And Jeremy didn’t give a damn. Tom closed his eyes. Jeremy was older, good-looking, and rich. If I was Paulina, he thought, who would I see? Jeremy or a nerdy grade ten guy.

  “Yes?” Patricia said, opening the door slightly.

  “Is Mike home?” Tom said.

  “Mike? Who—” She stopped, squinted, closed the door. He could hear her taking off the chain. The door opened again and Patricia came forward. “Tom?”

  He nodded.

  “Tom? Oh, my God, I can’t believe it!” she said, laughing.

  Tom instantly regretted coming to Mike’s house, wished he’d gone straight home.

  Patricia pulled him in, reached out, and touched his hair, amazed. “You look—”

  “Goofy, I know,” he said.

  “No, no, no,” she said, grabbing his shoulders and holding him out for inspection. “You look like a gentleman. Well. Except for the fat lip. My God. I thought you were a salesman or one of those Jehovah’s Witnesses. Tom. I can’t believe it’s you. Mike! Tom’s here! Evan, come see this!”

  Great. Tom, the traveling freak show, he thought as she waited for him to take off his shoes before she let him into the kitchen. Mike sat at the table, pretending to gag as she exclaimed over his matching socks.

  Mike’s uncle Evan came in the kitchen looking distracted. He stopped when he saw Tom. “Hoo-yah!” he said, and Tom wished more than ever that he’d gone home.

  Mike kicked the kitchen table.

  With Patricia and Evan there, it was hard to ask Mike what the fuck was the matter with him, so ins
tead he said, “Didn’t see you at lunch today.”

  Mike’s eyes wandered around the room, looking at everything except Tom.

  Patricia and Evan exchanged glances, then excused themselves. Mike walked over to the refrigerator. “You want some pizza?”

  Tom shrugged. “Sure.”

  “It’s vegetarian.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “It’s shitty.”

  Tom took a deep breath. “Can I crash here tonight?”

  Mike pulled the pizza out of the refrigerator and put it in the microwave. “I dunno.”

  For a long time the only sound was the hum of the microwave. Tom got up and walked out of the kitchen. As he left, the microwave beeped. No one was in the living room. He was glad. He put his shoes back on. When he was halfway down the driveway, Patricia yelled, “Aren’t you staying for dinner?”

  He shook his head and waved good-bye. She raised her hand, waved once, then closed the door.

  He ended up in the park, sitting on the swings, dragging his feet in the sand. The sky was clear as the sun set. The streetlights flickered on.

  Mike had brought him to a hostel once. It cost nine bucks a night. The mattress was thin and the blankets were ratty-looking. The walls were covered with graffiti. He picked at his suit. He was probably overdressed.

  So. Mike, who’d never been bothered by his seizures or his grunge look or his mooching, freaked because he looked like a suit.

  And Paulina liked Jeremy.

  He could understand it. Hell, who was he kidding? He’d never had a chance with Paulina. At least Jeremy hadn’t rubbed it in, hadn’t said, Hey, guess who I’m seeing tonight?

  He didn’t want to deal with Jeremy, who had become so crazed about Tom’s taking his medicine that he watched him down every pill.

  It got cold and he went home. The lights in the apartment were on. He stopped, not wanting to go up. He was taking out his keys when he heard Mike say, “Where the fuck you been?”

  Tom had thought he was beyond being surprised. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself,” Mike said.

  “Patricia know where you are?”

  Mike grinned, ducking his head. “We had a discussion.”

  “Yeah? You break any windows this time?”

  “Nah. Just a couple of dishes. It safe to go up?”