Mistletoe & Kisses (35 page)

Chapter Four

SUNDAY

“What’s your name?”

I find myself in this hard backed chair, in this sterile room, after being hustled by a nurse on her way to see someone about something.  All she said was “Volunteer?  In there.”

So here I am, looking at this kid who’s sitting all by herself in a bed that makes her look like a doll.  Well if the doll had a bald head.  But her eyes swallow the rest of her face and make me uncomfortable.

“Robin,” I tell her before swallowing thickly.  What did I sign myself up for?  Where did Batty go?  He wasn’t in the common room when I got there and the crowd had disappeared from earlier.  Did I miss him?

“Are you Batman’s sidekick?” the little girls asks.

“Yeah,” I look around and lick my lips.  “Where are your parents?”

Her eyes flick to the doors before swallowing me whole.  “Sunday is church day.  They’re gone all day to pray for me.”

“Do you think they could pray for me too?” I ask with a smile, but the girl takes me seriously.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asks.  Blunt little thing.

“What’s not?” I ask rhetorically.

“Are you dying too?”

My breathing stops with shock.  I feel my face wipe free of its joking expression.  WTF?  Shit, when was the last time I talked to a kid?  Probably when I was a kid.  Maybe I didn’t think this through.  Shit, I know I didn’t.

“Everybody’s dying.”

She nods and my eyes travel to her blanket, where her fingers are moving over the blanket, pleating it over and over.

“That’s what my parents say.”

“They must be pretty smart,” I say, then take a deep breath and look to the door.  How long was it polite to stay before I could leave this room?

“I like your nails.”  It’s her tone of voice that brings me back around to her.  It’s smaller than before.  Vulnerable, I guess is the word.  I look down at my hands.  To keep from biting my nails to the quick I have to keep them painted.  My eyes go to the purse I never carry.  Where I swiped everything off of the counter this morning and into it because I didn’t know what exactly was supposed to go in there.  What in the world could you possibly need besides a credit card and a driver’s license?

I dig around, and admit while doing it that I probably look like any other girl with the action.  Devoid of my familiar black eye shadow and exposed skin I look like anyone else.  I finally find the white nail polish and hold it up tentatively.

“Do you want to try it?”  I hold it out to her, but she pulls her hands back.

“I don’t know how to do it?”

My eyes move from her face to my hand holding the bottle.  “Do you want me to do it then?”

Her small nod feels like some kind of victory.  I smile and the muscles feel weak in my face, like they don’t know what I’m asking them to do.  When was the last time I smiled?

I shake the bottle and take her little hand in mine.  She doesn’t have an IV or anything in her chest, but I can see the small bruise peeking out of her gown, where it used to be.  I ignore it.  I go slowly.  I make sure the strokes are perfect and even.  When I finish the first hand I blow on them before moving to the other one.  Her little nails are almost impossible to keep clean of smudges, but I do my best.

When I’m done, I sit back with a sigh and watch her inspect her nails.  I half think she’s going to tell me I screwed up.  But then it happens.  She smiles—first with her eyes and then with her mouth.  She’s missing a tooth on the side that I hadn’t noticed when she talked.  That’s when I know.  I did win.

“You’re so pretty.”  It slips out.  A thought that didn’t go through my almost nonexistent filter.  Instantly her smile drops, and I feel bad for paying her a compliment.

“No I’m not,” she protests as her hands fall to the blanket again.  The protest is so strong I can’t keep it in.

“Yes you are,” I say with conviction.

“I’m bald like an old man.  I don’t look like the kids on the TV.  I’m sick.”

I roll my lips in and bite them, sitting back and crossing my arms.  I shrug.  “Some people are sick up here,” I point to my head, “like crazy, but look like everyone else and you don’t know until it’s too late.  They think bad things and then do them.  Some people are sick, like you.  But they’re good in their hearts and you can see that more than hair or skin.  That makes them more pretty than anybody you see on TV.  That’s why I said you’re beautiful.”

She blinks rapidly, and I hold my breath.  Did I say the wrong thing? 

“You’re beautiful too.”

My gasp is unexpected, at least to me.  I don’t react outwardly, as a rule.  I feel equally honored and deceptive.  I remind myself I’m playing a role, at the same time hoping that this little bit lying in her big bed may see more than I know exists.

I panic and stand, heading to the door, before remembering my purse and having to backtrack for it.  “I should go . . . see some more kids.”

“Okay,” she says simply, accepting that I’m running from her with ease.  It makes me stop and turn back.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Rachel.”

Rachel.

* * *

I exit the room like it’s on fire and not left quiet and morose in my wake.  I pace, because that’s what I do as I rant in my head about what a fucking screwed-up idea this was, and cursing my doctor for this stupid form of therapy.

“Nice mask.”

I almost trip on my flats, I spin so fast. My hair catches on my mouth and nose, catching in my eyelashes.  Oh my God.  It’s Batty.  He’s leaning against the wall next to the room after Rachel’s.  I refrain from making a raspberry sound to get the hair out of my face, but just barely.

“Jeeze us!” I say loudly and scrape the hair that’s trying to suffocate me from my face with both hands.

His head tilts to the side a bit.  “I scare you?”  I look him up and down.  He’s wearing black jeans that are almost skinny jeans.  They’re tucked into black biker boots that I can definitely appreciate.  His long sleeve shirt has a yellow Batman emblem on it.  It matches his black mask and makes him a character I want to sidekick for.  Hard.

His eyes give away nothing, but I can see they’re a slate grey.  His lips are naturally pouty and my mouth waters just thinking about being able to bite them.

I swallow before I start drooling.  “I didn’t see you there.”

His eyes scan the hall before he looks down at himself. “Kinda hard to miss most days.”

I scoff, thankful I didn’t spray him with spit in the process.  “No shit.”

The way he looks at me makes me feel like he’s taking in my features individually, like he’s cataloging them.  Those eyes stay on my mouth the longest, and I realize I’m smiling.  It immediately drops.

He pushes off of the wall.  “Let’s go.”

I have no choice but to follow.  Okay, maybe a choice, but I want to follow those tight jeans and even tighter ass anywhere he wants to lead me.  His damn black cape is covering it, but when he turned I definitely enjoyed the side view.  Unfortunately he doesn’t direct me to a janitor’s closet, but another patient’s room.

“Hey Jayden,” he rumbles.  I see the parents first.  They’re putting on those smiles that are so fake, they hurt to look at.  Batty shakes hands with the father first, then the mother before going over to sit at the end of the bed.  I follow his movements and try not to squeeze too hard when I feel how weak they hold onto mine.

“I brought my sidekick today, kid.  Say hi to Robin.”

I walk over to the other side of the bed, since the parents took up the chairs in the room.  “Hey, Jayden.”  This kid is sicker than Rachel.  His skin doesn’t seem to have any vitality in it, just a waxy white.  His eyes are sunken into their sockets and his hospital gown swallows him up.

I look away and notice from the corner of my eye as the kid’s head bows.  I realize I probably offended him and jump up.  “Did you see that?”  I practically yell, frantic to fix it for some reason.  The only thing that way is the window that’s half up.  I run over then and pull the blinds forcefully.  I hear the parents gasp, but as I turn around my eyes are only for Jayden.  “Did you see?”

He shakes his head slightly, the tube in his nose shining on the lights behind him.  I keep my eyes on his.  I look back out the window, turning this way and that.  “I swear I saw him.  Batty did you see it?”

When I turn around, I can’t see Batty’s eyebrow raised because of the mask on his head, but I swear I can feel it.  “What’d you see, Robin?”

“It was that guy.  The guy we were after last night.  He was right there, if this was open we could have grabbed him.”

“Bane?”

I snap my fingers.  “That’s him.  You think he’s coming here?”

Batty tilts his head as if to ask what the hell I’m doing.  No freaking idea, dude. 

“Possibly,” he says slowly.

“Right.  Excuse me, Sir Jayden, but I need to confer with your assistants for a second.”  I nod to the parents and hold my breath until they follow me to the door.

When the door shuts with a solid click I lick my lips and rub my sweaty hands on my jeans.  “How long . . . does he have?”

The mom shakes her head and walks away with her hands covering her face.  The dad coughs roughly before admitting in a gust, “Not long.  We’re taking him home tomorrow.  There’s nothing . . .” he clears his throat.

“Does he like Batman?”

The man blinks rapidly and says on a sigh, “Yeah. That’s why he started wearing the costume. Jayden’s obsessed with him.  I don’t know where you came from though.”

“I’m a friend.”  What am I doing?  “Listen, do you think he would want to go to a toy store?  It’s almost Christmas.  What about seeing snow?”  My mind is going in a million different directions for no reason I can pinpoint except that the kid is the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever seen in my life.  And I’ve seen some shit.

“You want to take him out of here?”

“Can he leave for an hour or two?” I counter.

“I . . . I guess so.  He has to keep his oxygen though.  And the IV port in his arm.  Where are we taking him?”  We.  Right.

“Do you know the big toy store?  We can go in my car or something.  We’ll get him some toys or something.”  Something, something . . .

“I guess that’s okay,” he says uncertainly.

“Perfect, let’s go.” I turn back to the door and then realize something and spin around again almost knocking the man down.  “Wait.  I forgot I have a two-seater.  Is that going to be okay?  You can follow in the car behind us.”

“You mean you want him to sit in your lap?  I assume Batman will be driving.”

I nod eagerly, feeling this crazy plan about to disappear.   “Yeah.  He’ll be buckled in.  I know it’s against the law and all that.”

The man rubs his stubbly chin before looking back at his wife.   “Yeah.  He would love that.”

“Okay!  Lets do this!” I say with more adrenaline than excitement.

When I get back into the room I start looking around. “You need some clothes, dude.  Are there any?”  Batty is still lounging on the bed, seemingly at ease with my crazy.  I look back to the dad.  “We need a nurse and probably a doctor for that.”

“What are you doing?” comes a little voice from the bed, drawing my attention back to him.

I get close to his face and whisper in his little ear, “We’re going to catch the bad guy.”

His eyes get shiny as they widen, the brown showing some hints of green in them.  “For reals?” he whispers.

“For reals, for reals, Jayden.  You look strong enough to take him.  We need you.  Right, Batty?”

Batman nods his head with a solemn look.  I hope it’s not that he’s pissed and more impressed, but I’m not kidding myself.

“Here’s your favorite shirt, baby,” his mom says shakily as she comes back from the wall lockers on the side of the room.  A nurse follows minutes later to give us disapproving looks as she caps Jayden’s IV line coming out of his chest and prepares his tank.  She helps the mom work his clothes over him so that he doesn’t get snagged as Batman and I turn to look out the window.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled, and I shiver.  Not the bad kind either.  If I didn’t hear his voice, I wouldn’t know he had spoken.  His head is turned to the window, eyes focused ahead, lips in a straight line.

“We’re taking him to the toy store.  We’re gonna give him a ride in the Batmobile and then have a shopping spree.”

“You have no idea what the fuck you’re doing,” he says before turning those grey eyes on me.  I shrug.

“Nope.”

We get Jayden in a wheelchair.  Jayden’s little cheeks are tinted with a little pink.  Just that small thing is enough for me to take this next step. I shoo the nurse and Mom and Dad out, telling them to wait at the bottom of the elevators.

“We’re gonna catch him this time, Batty.  I can feel it.  You go get the car,” I say, tossing the keys to him abruptly.  He catches them without even seeming to look.  He glances at the keys before shooting them back to me.  I definitely wouldn’t have caught them if I wasn’t staring so hard.