Afterlife (3 page)

“I’m here for Matt.”

“He’s resting,” the nurse said, nodding toward a closed door. “Sometimes a good nap does the trick.”

Without realizing it, Julie let out a brief sigh. “How’s he doing?”

“It was rough. It started on the blacktop—one of the kids had found the hornet’s nest and they were kicking it around.”

“Wait, he got bitten?” Julie lingered in the doorway, glancing at the door beyond the office.

“Along his arm. It swelled up, no more than normal, but it just made him furious. He got completely out of control. He started kicking when anyone tried to keep him from drawing the pictures on his arms.”

“Why wasn’t I called right then?”

“Mrs. Hutchinson,” the nurse said, a slight but undeniable condescension in her voice. “Our job here is not to pick up the phone every time a student gets a bee sting, unless we’re aware of any allergies. Within twenty minutes of the bite, he was drawing all over where the swelling was.”

“I was told they were carvings.”

She nodded. “When he calmed a bit, he told me that they were pictures in his head he was trying not to forget. That’s why he put them on his skin.” The nurse suddenly had a look of puzzlement on her face. “It was odd. I don’t mean because of how he hurt himself doing it. Or even his acting out. It was odd because he said something about his hand. How his hand couldn’t work without all the fingers. Or something like that. But his hands are fine.” As if dismissing something from her mind, the nurse added, “Has he been getting enough sleep?”

6

“Matt?” Julie said, stepping into the darkness of the small room. It was little more than a walk-in closet— just enough room for a cot and a bit of crawlspace around that.

At first, Matt didn’t stir. Then, after a minute or so, his eyes opened. “Julie?”

She noticed that his Sony camcorder was pressed against his back, almost as if it were a comforting stuffed toy. “Right here, Matty.”

“I had a bad dream.”

“Oh. Well, it was just a dream. Everything’s fine.”

“No,” Matt said, turning over to face the wall. “No. It was real.”

“Do you want me to call Dr. Swanson?”

Matt glared at her. “Eleanor? No. I don’t like her.”

“How about…well, Mr. Maitland?”

He lip-farted at this.

“Did you mean to cut yourself?”

He didn’t respond. She bit her lower lip.
Shouldn’t have asked that. He doesn’t need to be grilled right now.
She wanted to go lift him up and hug him, but she resisted what Hut would’ve called her “smother mother instinct.”

“Matt?” she asked. “We can go home now. It’s all right.”

Still facing the wall, he said, “She’s in a box. I heard her.” Then, his voice seemed to change. It sounded… girlish. Like he was imitating someone. “
Dear God. Dear God. Somebody help me.
That’s what she said. She said it until she couldn’t breathe anymore.”

7

When they got out to the Camry, it had begun raining again. Julie drew Matt closer so that he could keep under her raincoat a bit. His body felt too warm.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, shivering as she unlocked the door to let him into the front seat. He was a funny kid in too many ways—violent at times, in a rage, sweet at other times, and somewhere in between he reminded her of a little kid who was smart beyond his years, yet had learning disabilities that she couldn’t figure out.
Maybe it was his mother. Maybe it was whatever had driven her to alcohol and then drugs and then…the accident. Maybe whatever brain chemistry was there had gotten a little into Matt.

Julie leaned forward and hugged him, kissing him on the top of the head. “Nothing to be sorry about, honey. Want to go grab a bite at McDonald’s?”

“What about Livy?”

“She’s at Laura’s. We’ll bring her something back. Okay?”

He brightened, slightly. “Okay.”

8

After making sure his camera case was secure between his feet on the floor of the car, Matt poked around the bun of his Quarter Pounder. He lifted it up, and picked out the pickle. He dropped it back in the bag.

They were at the McDonald’s off the main road through town. She’d parked in front. Her cup of coffee was on the dashboard. She’d leaned the driver’s seat back, and took a bite of a Chicken McNugget.

“I know it’s crazy,” Matt said, chewing.

“What?” she asked, trying to hide her interest. He swallowed the bit of burger. And then reached

for his soda, took a sip, slurping. “It was like I was in a movie.”

“We can talk about something else if you want.” She glanced through the windshield. Cars went too fast on the road. Across the street at the strip mall, a little red car was nearly backing up into an SUV that wanted to quickly take a parking space.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I just was somewhere else. In my head.”

She tried not to glance at his arms, to give him that privacy. The nurse from school had done a messy bandaging and gauzing of his elbow and forearm. She saw what looked like the drawing of a spider, a little too deep in his skin—a faint image, the ink of his ballpoint pen washed away, a lightly raised line of skin.

“Does it hurt?”

He gave a brief peripheral glance to his arm, and shook his head. “Not much.”

“You were stung by a hornet.”

“Bitten,” he corrected her. “And I think it was a yellow jacket.”

“Oh. I didn’t know there was a difference.” She smiled. “I’m not too smart about insects.”

“Maybe not,” he said, closing his eyes briefly as if a headache had suddenly come on. When he opened them, seconds later, he got a wicked grin on his face. “It hurt like hell when it bit me.”

She reached forward for her coffee, and lifted the plastic lid up. She mixed in two small cups of creamer, and then a packet of sugar, but couldn’t find the plastic stirrer. She took a sip. Better than she had expected.

“What about what you saw? In your mind? Did it frighten you?”

He nodded. She offered him a McNugget, and he glanced at it, then at her, then reached his thumb and forefinger into the little box and plucked it out.

“Not anymore,” he said.

She touched the edge of his arm. Next to the raised skin.

He looked away, jerking his arm. Glanced out the side window. Sparrows and starlings were over by the round tables outside, and an old man tossed French fries to them.

“Is there anyone else you want to talk to? It’s all right.”

“No.”

“I just want to help.”

“I’m not mad at you,” he said, gently.

“I know.”

“I just got scared.”

“I know you did. But it’s over.”

“No it’s not,” Matt said. “It’s just starting.”

She tried to crack a grin, hoping that somewhere behind his eyes he was teasing her a little. “What is?”

“Julie,” he said, seeming wise beyond his years with a voice that was utterly serious. “It’s a test. She told me. In my dream. Her name is Gina. They gave it to her. That’s all it is. But you only get three days to pass.”

1

After picking Livy up over at Laura Reynen’s, Julie drove them both home, listening to Livy describe her afternoon with the babysitter and her family. Now and then Julie glanced over at Matt, but he’d already gotten his camcorder out and was taping the blur of woods and strip malls and suburban houses.

As she turned the corner onto their street, which would take them first up and then down a hill to the house, Livy began singing a funny song about “After you gone, and left me cryin’. After you gone there’s no denyin’.”

Matt howled with laughter and told his little sister she was certifiable. “You made that stupid song up.”

“That’s an old song,” Julie said. “Gramma might even be too old for it. Was Laura playing it on the piano?”

Livy shook her head. “I heard it in my brain radio,” she said. Then, she continued singing, “You feel blue, you feel sad, you miss the bestest pal you ever had.”

“It’s called
After You’re Gone,
” Julie said. “I bet your father taught it to you.”

2

By eleven that night, he still hadn’t called, and she didn’t want to call him because sometimes he went into a tirade when she did it. And she didn’t need that—
not tonight.

Sometimes he had to stay in the city late. It wasn’t that unusual, but she expected at least a call or a message.

Julie tried paging him, but got no response. She thought she heard him come in, and went down to the front door, opened it. Just a car turning around in the driveway. It seemed misty outside—not quite rain. She stood on the front porch, feeling the chill and enjoying it a bit.

She heard some noises from downstairs, and went to the finished basement.

Matt, watching television.

“Matt? It’s a school night. Let’s hit the sack.”

He ignored her.

“What are you watching?”

“Some guy,” Matt finally said.

On the TV, it was Jerry Springer. A man with a ponytail who looked a little too old for a ponytail shouted at another man, who was fat, had his shirt off, and was covered with tattoos of naked women. A middle-aged woman with short blond-red hair wiped tears from her eyes. The audience screamed.

“Let’s turn it off, okay?”

“I can’t sleep,” Matt said.

She watched the back of his head. “All right. But get to bed soon. Okay?”

No response.

“Matt?”

“Okay,” he said.

“Don’t forget. You promised you’d walk Livy to the bus stop tomorrow.”

“I do it every Thursday, don’t I?” Then, he turned around to look at her. In his hand, his camcorder. “Smile for the camera, Julie.”

“Aw, you’re catching me at my best,” she laughed. “Are you videoing the Springer show?”

“Nope. Just documenting my life,” he said.

“To bed,” she said. “Another half-hour, okay?”

“Watch the birdie,” he said, following her movements with the camera as she left the room and went back upstairs.

3

She lugged her laptop to bed, and plugged it in and then went online. She checked her email. One email from Hut, sent early in the day. She tried to open it but it was marked as “unavailable.” It bugged her that her email service did that sometimes—or Hut might’ve even done it if he had unsent the email. She wondered what it said. Maybe he had sent a note about what time he’d get home, and then had to change it. Or maybe one of the assistants had sent it. She could’ve called the clinic, but decided against it. No need to be paranoid. No more Clinging Julie, as Hut had sharply called her when she’d shown up a little too much, too often, unannounced at the clinic. She’d heard enough stories about his first wife and how she’d never given him any space for his work.

That won’t be me. I wouldn’t want him hanging around the ER, either.

She saw her sister’s name come up on her computer screen—a instant message.

“Want to Scrabble?” her sister asked.

“Sure. What a day.”

“Let’s phone,” her sister’s words appeared in a instant message box on her computer screen.

Julie picked up the phone and pressed speed dial on her sister’s number. The click on the other end. “Mel. Melly. Melanie. How’d you know I’d be up?”

“Telepathy,” Mel said, her voice upbeat, as usual. “Naw, just a guess. Julie, I’ve got to tell you. There’s a new hot guy at work. I know I’m too old to chase teenagers, but he’s in his twenties, and I just want to do him.”

“Mel.”

“Oh. Sorry. I forgot. You’re married. You’re not allowed to look at the menu anymore.”

“He isn’t home yet. It pisses me off. And drives me nuts.”

“You marry a doc, you marry a God. And God does what God wants.”

“Enough.”

“I’m sorry. You married him, not me. You could’ve had my life. The revolving door of men.”

The Scrabble board appeared on the computer monitor’s screen. Mel had already begun putting letters on it. The word “round” came up.

“What if he’s had an accident?” Then, Julie added, “I can’t believe you got all five letters for ‘round.’ You must be cheating.”

“Luck of the draw,” Mel said.

Julie figured out her word for the online Scrabble board: she just added a “g” to “round” to make it “ground.” A genuine coup in Scrabble, as far as she was concerned.

“He hasn’t had an accident,” Mel said. “It’s not like this is the first time. Shall I remind you of the other nights he’s been late?”

A slight pause on the line. Something left unsaid. Better left that way, Julie thought.
Don’t think about the phone number you found in his jacket. Don’t think about it.

“He’s fine,” Mel said. “You work long hours, too. You know the life. Maybe it’s completely innocent.” Mel had that edge to her voice, and Julie hated hearing it. It meant that her sister was just saying what she thought Julie wanted to hear.

“You think everybody cheats on everybody,” Julie said.

“Maybe Hut’s different.” Mel said it with her liar voice that was a little too cutesy.

On the online Scrabble board, Mel added the word “under” to “ground.”

“You are too lucky to get those five letters. It almost feels like cheating,” Julie said.

“The luck of the draw.”

“Okay, I’ll trust you. Cheater.” Julie chuckled, glancing through the letters she had to see how she could score triple points.

“Look, Julie, if you and Hut are still having problems…”

“You know,” Julie said. “When we met, I thought I’d be working beside him. The way mom and dad did.”

“And that would lead to a fast divorce. Just like mom and dad.” Mel quickly changed the subject. “Hey, is Matty over his fever?”

Suddenly, on the monitor’s screen, Mel had just put the word “nod,” adding an “od” to the first “n” of “underground.” This really screwed with Julie’s plans to use the same squares.

“Over one obstacle and on to another. He’s not doing great. A bad episode today.”

“You sound like a wicked stepmother.”

“I am. I am. I love that kid. I just feel at a loss sometimes. I don’t understand so much about him. What he goes through. He was drawing things on his arms…in class…with his pen.”