Coma Girl: part 3 (Kindle Single) (5 page)

“BRAVES AND METS at home,” Detective Jack Terry said. “It doesn’t get better than that.”

He’s baaaaaack.

“I brought burgers and sweet potato fries. Are you hungry?”

Ugh, no. It must be the baby, because food doesn’t smell as good as it used to.

“Did you miss me last Sunday? Come on, Marigold, I’ll bet you did.”

Okay, maybe a smidgen.

“Trust me, I would’ve rather been here watching the game with you. I went house-hunting.”

Wow.

He ripped open a bag. “I know—I can’t believe those words came out of my mouth. And yes, it was just as awful as it sounds. More, even. It’s a damn project. There’s trying to decide what part of town to live in, then what kind of house, yard, garage you want, in what kind of community. How the traffic flows, the crime rate, what school system you’re in.”

School system? Jack has children?

He groaned and I visualized him pulling his hand down over his face. “I’m not cut out for domesticity.”

Was he getting married? Moving in with someone?

“I guess that’s why people pay agents like your mother to do the legwork for them. I’m kind of obligated to call this one agent who’s a friend of a friend, but I dread it because… well, you don’t want to hear my problems.”

Oh, but I do. Don’t stop now.

“The Falcons play today, too,” he offered, changing the subject. “First game of the regular season. Keith Young is supposed to start. He’s allowed to play until results of his blood alcohol test are confirmed, then we’ll see. But by then, he’ll have two or three games under his belt.”

And if he racks up stats, he will be harder to prosecute.

“On another note, your sister came down to the station yesterday to see me. Wanted your phones back, said she had to find the phone numbers of some friends of yours to let them know what happened. I can’t release them while the case is still open, but against my better judgment, I let her go through your phone.”

No worries—Sidney won’t find anything on my phone that will lead her to Duncan—no racy selfies or sexts, no chummy IM’s or flirtatious Facebook posts. I don’t think his last name—Wheeler—is even listed on his contacts page.

“I feel as if I violated your privacy, even though she’s your sister.” He sighed. “Did I do the right thing?”

I’m touched Jack is worried he did something to upset the girl in the coma. Is he usually this sensitive? Or is he projecting onto me because I can’t interact with him and I’m safe?

“DOES MARIGOLD SEEM different to you?” Nurse Teddy asked.

“No,” Gina responded in her high ‘I’m lying’ voice.

“Come on, spill. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Okay, I guess you’ll tell me when you’re ready,” he groused. “How are things with you and Gabriel?”

“Couldn’t be better,” she said happily. “So well, in fact, I think I’m going to introduce him to my son next week.”

“Ooh, so the nookie is good?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said primly. “My rule is no nookie the first ninety days.”

“Damn, really?”

“If I guy can’t wait ninety days, he’s not worth keeping around.”

How very refreshing.

“How many men fail the ninety-day test?”

She sighed. “So far, all of them.”

How very depressing.

“But I think Gabriel is different,” she added.

“I hope you’re right.”

The door opened.

“Dr. Jarvis,” Gina exclaimed. “You’re back.”

My hero has returned from exile.

“Were you away?” Teddy asked, sounding confused.

“Um, just for a few days,” Dr. Jarvis said. “Teddy, would you mind to get me another lab coat?”

“Okay,” Teddy said, his voice suspicious. “Be back in a jif.”

When the door closed behind him, Gina said, “You’re not in trouble anymore?”

“Tyson let me out of jail, but I’m still on probation. I understand the family wants to keep the baby?”

“Yes. But the pregnancy is top secret, even from the rest of the staff, so the family can make the announcement when they’re ready.”

“Mum’s the word.”

“Thanks, Dr. Jarvis, for not mentioning that I helped administer the drug.”

“I told you I’d take full responsibility.”

“No offense, but people don’t always do what they say.”

“You’re obviously spending time with the wrong people,” he said.

I can’t feel anything, but even I detect electricity in the air.

The door opened and Teddy returned. “One lab coat.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Jarvis said. “Have either of you asked Marigold to respond to commands this morning?”

“Not yet,” Gina said. “We only just finished her bath. And fyi, Ms. Kemp hasn’t responded to Dr. Tyson’s commands in three days.”

Jarvis made a concerned noise. “Okay, let’s test her. Marigold, it’s Dr. Jarvis. I need for you to do something for me. I need for you to blink. Can you blink?”

I tried. How hard could it be to blink?

“No? Then Gina, will you take her right hand, and Teddy, will you take her left? Hold her fingers lightly and let me know if you feel any movement, no matter how small.”

I readied myself mentally.

“Okay, Marigold, let’s repeat something you’ve already done. Move the fingers on your right hand. Can you move your fingers, Marigold?”

I played the brain-bone-is-connected-to-the-finger-bone song in my head.

“Anything?” he asked.

“No,” Gina said.

“Marigold, now try to move the fingers on your left hand. Can you do it? Can you move the fingers on your left hand?”

Again, I focused like a laser.

“Anything?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Teddy said.

Dr. Jarvis sighed. “Okay, we’ll try again tomorrow.”

But the disappointment in his voice is loud and clear. I try not to let my lack of response bother me, but I remember the conversation between Dr. Tyson and my mother about the baby consuming resources. Was it the cause of my setback?

“GUESS WHO?”

I recognize Aunt Winnie’s voice, and the slide of Faridee’s sandals. I guess that makes me psychic.

“Your mother won’t return my calls,” Winnie said. “So I thought I’d come and check on you myself.”

Mom is probably afraid she’ll inadvertently spill the beans about the baby ahead of Sidney’s TV appearance this Friday.

“Faridee is with me,” my aunt said. “But I completed the workshop on communicating in the next dimension, so I’m going to try to make contact with you, too.”

“Don’t forget to call on the power of the amulet,” Faridee whispered.

“Oh, right,” my aunt said.

Oh, brother.

The sounds of hands clapping and rubbing filled the air, followed by the scent of sage and cloves. “Hello, Marigold,” Faridee said. “Move toward me and I will move toward you.”

The previous attempts to send an empirical message to the woman had failed miserably, so this time I decided to just hang.

“Where are you?” Faridee sang.

Right here. See? I’m waving.

“Oh, there you are,” Faridee said. “Have you made contact, Winnie?”

“I don’t believe so,” my aunt said. “I don’t feel anything yet.”

“It’s not a feeling—it’s a sensing.”

“A sensing,” Winnie repeated.

“Do you sense Marigold’s spirit? She’s reaching out to us.”

“Reaching,” Winnie whispered.

What, no sales pitch, Faridee?

“Because Marigold’s spirit has ascended so high, you might need to take my advanced seminar in order to connect with her,” Faridee said.

And there it is.

“When are you next giving the advanced version?” my aunt asked.

“Tomorrow.”

How convenient.

“I’ll be there. Is Marigold any closer to coming back to us?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Is she still hanging out with the Pope?”

Yes, Winnie. Pope John Paul and I are thick.

“She’s—”

“Faridee? What do you see?”

“I see… two Marigolds.”

Oh, here we go. More vague metaphors.

“Two? You mean one here and one in the spirit world?”

“No.”

How about a good Marigold and a bad one? A fat Marigold and a thin one?

“One Marigold is young, and one Marigold is old.”

Wait—a big me and a mini me? Does Faridee see my baby?

“What does that mean?” my aunt asked.

“I don’t… know.” Faridee grunted. “I lost her.”

“Darn it! I totally missed out.”

“We’ll try again soon, after the seminar,” Faridee assured her.

“Okay.”

My aunt sounded like a disappointed child.

“Goodbye, Marigold, my love. We’ll be back whenever I can sneak another visit past your mother.”

“Wait,” Faridee said.

“What is it?”

“Someone else in the room is trying to reach me.”

I listened as her sandals moved away from me.

“Yes, Karen, I hear you,” she said in an odd voice. “Yes, I’ll write it down.” Then she whispered, “Winnie, do you have something to write with?”

Winnie carries a huge bag of oddball stuff. She’d be the one in the audience of
Let’s Make a Deal
who could pull a gerbil out of her purse on command.

“Here’s a pen… and a notepad.”

“Okay, I’m ready,” Faridee said. “Okay…. okay…. okay… okay…. okay. Got it.”

“What’s the message?” Winnie asked in a hushed voice.

I’m skeptical, sure it’s a missive from “beyond” for Winnie to hand over the PIN number to her debit card.

“Dear Jonas,” Faridee said. “I never liked that pear tree.”

“What does it mean?”

“I have no idea. But I’ll pin it to her gown, and maybe it will make sense to someone.”

Okay, y’all… I’m a believer.

“WHEW, NOW EVERYONE has clean sheets,” Gina said. “Thanks for helping me, Gabriel.”

“You’re welcome, baby. I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight.”

Gina gave a little laugh. “Same here. But it’s ‘Gina’ at work, okay?”

“Sorry. You just look so beautiful today, I forgot myself. But I’ll save it for tonight.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice fading as she walked toward the door, “but you know my ninety-day rule. See you at seven.”

“Uh-huh.”

When the door closed, he grunted like a man denied a treasure. Then he walked around the ward gathering up discarded bedclothes, whistling under his breath.

“What’s this?” he murmured.

Paper crackled.

“‘Dear Jonas, I never liked that pear tree.’ Huh?”

Ack
—the note Faridee had written for Karen Suh yesterday and pinned to her gown. It must’ve fallen off when they shuffled us around to change the sheets. I was hoping Jonas would be back to visit before it was lost.

The sound of paper being crumpled into a ball tears at me. I wonder if Karen can hear it, too.

The door opened.

“Oh—hi, Gabriel.”

“Hi, Donna,” he said, his voice rich with innuendo. “Just the person I was hoping to see.”

What an indiscriminate flirt.

“Are we still on for tonight?” she asked.

“Yeah, but it’ll be nine before I can get to your place.”

So an early date with Gina, then a late date with Donna?

“I’ll make it worth the wait,” she promised.

He gave a deep laugh. “How about a little preview now?”

Kissing noises sounded.

“Stop, Gabriel, we can’t.”

“Why not? No one will be looking for me for another thirty minutes.”

“What if someone comes in?”

“Into the vegetable patch? No one comes in here. These patients don’t have to be fed, they never push a help button, and visitors are few and far between. It’s a pretty depressing place.”

More kissing noises.

“Still… it doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh, baby, it feels right to me. Come on. You got me so hot and bothered, it’s not going to take long.”

“Okay,” she relented. “But hurry.”