Unlocked (6 page)

“Mrs. O'Leary, can you tell me more? When was your husband diagnosed?”

“Shortly before he died.”

“Did he claim to see things or hear things that were unusual?” Dr. James asked.

“Do we really need to discuss this right now? Right here?” Mom asked

“This information changes everything,” he said.

Mom wiped away a tear.

“For now, just one more question,” Dr. James said. “Were any other relatives diagnosed with mental illness?”

“No,” Mom said. “No one on either side of our families had issues. Just him.”

“All right,” Dr. James said. “This gives us a starting point.”

“Do I have schizophrenia?” I asked.

Dr. James and my mom returned to my bedside.

“Not necessarily,” he said. “Let's do some tests and evaluate everything. Okay?”

I nodded.

“Another physician will be in later this afternoon to sign your final release from the hospital, and I'll see you both on Friday.” Dr. James squeezed my shoulder. “We will work through this, Hannah.”

The nurse finished removing the IV and then followed Dr. James out of the room. The door closed behind them, and the click echoed through the silence of the sterile room.

“I'm sorry, Hannah.”

“Right.” I struggled to unlock and release the bedrail. Mom lowered it for me. I scooted to the edge of the bed and swung my legs over, but before my feet hit the floor, Mom grabbed my arms.

“I never meant to tell you like this,” she said.

“You never meant to tell me at all.”

“Your father was a good man. I wanted you to remember that—”

“I remember how he backhanded me.” I wiped my nose with the worn-out tissue and swallowed my anguish.

“That happened once,” she said.

“Mom, I always thought we moved to Idaho because you hated the memory of Dad,” I said. “You even changed our last name. Why would you do that unless you detested everything about him?”

“Hannah, I didn't hate—”

“I don't believe you,” I said. “I can't handle more—”

“Hannah—”

“Mom, I was just in a car accident. Jordan died because of me. The last thing I need right now is you confusing me with more lies.” I grabbed the tote bag and headed for the adjoining bathroom. I tried to slam the bathroom door behind me, but the stupid hydraulic closure thwarted my intentions.

I set the bag on the toilet lid and sank to the floor on my knees. Silent tears ran down my face, and I let them fall. I tried to picture Dad in my mind, but I couldn't form the details. Was his nose crooked like Dr. James's? Was his hair neatly trimmed around the ears like Officer Stephens's? If I could recall his exact features from when he laughed and chased me on the beach, then maybe he wouldn't seem so lost to me.

Instead, images of Jordan's contorted expression came to mind: his gaping mouth, his empty, glaring eyes, and his blood-spattered blond spikes.

Jordan had been a jerk about the seat belt. I hated him for it, and now his life was over, and I still hated him for it. If only he'd strapped in. If only I'd let Manny drive. If only we'd not gone to the fair at all. Then Jordan would still be alive. My body shivered against the cold tiles. I rubbed my arms, but the motion barely warmed me.

I stood, and my head spun. I steadied myself at the sink and stared at myself in the mirror until the dizziness passed. My eyes were a darker shade of green than normal. Probably from crying. My eyelids were pink and swollen. I blew out a breath and reached into the tote.

Mom had brought my favorite things from home. I lifted the items out one by one. Jasmine-scented shampoo and conditioner, shower gel, and body spray. My loofah scrub, my toothbrush and toothpaste, and my old treasured pearl-handled hairbrush. I left the clean clothes in the tote and selected from the items I'd set along the sink. I held the bristles of the toothbrush under scalding hot water. Then, with a generous squeeze of Crest, I scrubbed the residual sour flavor from my mouth. I rinsed with hot water and then brushed again.

I tore off the hospital gown, gathered my supplies, and stepped into the shower stall. The hot water sprayed my face and obscured my tears. Dad committed suicide. What did that mean? Did it change anything? Jordan died in the car accident. And that changed everything. I slapped the wall and a sliver of pain shot through my wrist. I shook it out. Then I studied the bruise left by the seat belt. It was too tender to touch, and the spray from the water pricked it, but I only had bruises and sore muscles. I couldn't say the same for my friends.

I shampooed my hair several times until the snarls and knots disappeared. Then I covered the loofah with a generous amount of shower gel and scrubbed every inch of my body. I wanted to wash away the last twenty-four hours. I leaned against the shower wall and let the water pelt my back. I held my breath and imagined all my troubles flowing down the drain. My muscles relaxed, and I stayed there a while longer. I loved the solitude of the shower.

Mom rapped at the door and opened it. “Hannah?”

I stiffened. “Almost done.”

Mom left and closed the door behind her.

I dried off and wrapped the towel around me. I took another towel and mopped the steam off the mirror, but my reflection faded as the mirror fogged over again. I spritzed myself with the jasmine body spray and reached into the tote for clean clothes.

Something pricked my finger.

I jerked my hand away, and in the process, the tote tumbled to the floor. A three-inch hairy wolf spider scampered across the white tiled floor. I screamed and jumped up, perching on the sink. The neatly lined supplies hammered against the floor, and my hairbrush landed near the spider. He paused, but then darted toward the shower stall.

The bathroom door flew open.

“What's the matter?” Mom yelled.

I clutched the towel to my chest and pointed to the shower.

Mom touched my knee. “What?”

“A freaking monster-sized spider!” I hopped down from the sink and examined the shower stall. “It must have gone down the drain,” I said.

“I'm sure you scared it more than it scared you.” She picked up the items from the floor and set the bag back on the toilet.

“It was real.” I held out my finger and showed Mom the tiny red welt at the tip. She kissed it and drew me into a hug.

“Couldn't you have told me the truth sooner?” I whispered.

Mom drew back from me. “I didn't want the suicide looming in your mind.”

“Why did we move to Idaho?” I asked.

“I was trying to protect you.” She gripped my hands in hers.

“From the truth?” I asked.

“We'll work through this, Hannah, but it won't happen in an instant.”

I tried to summon the courage to reach into the bag, but my hand trembled. Mom stepped forward and plucked a pair of white ruffled shorts from the bag. Before passing them to me, she shook them. No spiders. She did the same with a white camisole, underwear, and a sheer lavender blouse.

Mom had always had a flair for selecting outfits. Throughout my life, she had said to me, “You never get a second chance to make a good first impression.” My temples throbbed, and images of my family's parking lot fiasco in New Jersey came to mind. That outburst had repercussions. The next day, those three irritating girls had told everyone at school about it. I had never been a part of any clique back then, and so it didn't really matter when they all snubbed me. I already knew what loneliness felt like, because I usually sat by myself at lunch anyhow. When we moved to Idaho, Mom was determined to help change things. She bought me all the right clothes, shoes, and accessories. My debut as the new girl was still awkward, even with the best jeans. But after a few days, and a few great outfits, the popular crowd invited me into their world. Lily and I had been friends ever since.

Mom lifted a pair of leather sandals from the bag and dropped them on the floor in front of me.

“No spiders,” she said and moved to the door.

“Leave it open a little,” I said. She nodded and left me alone to dress.

I dropped my towel and reached for the underwear. My skin itched. I positioned myself next to the sink to keep an eye on the shower stall while I dressed. If that creature crawled back out of the drain, I wanted to see it before it saw me.

• • •

Several hours later, Mom dozed in the corner armchair, and I sat in the bed, tapping my fingers against the bedrail. I pushed the call button.

Audrey came into the room. “Yes? What can I do for you, Hannah?”

“I need to see Manny.”

“I'll let you as soon as possible, but right now I'm pretty sure he's still down in radiology.” She checked my vitals and left.

A few minutes later, I pressed the call button again.

Audrey returned, but she paused at the doorway.

“Can I see Lily?” I asked.

“She's still in recovery. Later they'll move her to ICU, but I doubt you'll get to see her today.”

I pressed the call button a few more times over the next couple of hours, but Audrey always had an excuse why I couldn't see them yet. Meanwhile, Mom had woken from her nap and was replying to messages on her phone.

“Please find out what rooms they're in,” I said to Mom.

“Sure, honey.” She stepped out to the hallway to talk to the nurses, but then returned when another doctor came in to examine me.

“You're a lucky girl,” he said. “You're the only one who came out of that accident unscathed.” Right. Lucky. He discharged me, but before we left, Officer Stephens came into the room.

“Based on the information I've gathered from you, the doctors, and your friend, I need to suspend your driver's license.” He lifted one unkempt eyebrow and passed me a citation to sign.

My hand trembled, and the pen wobbled. Mom reached out and stroked my arm. Shudders ran through my body, and I began to cry again.

Officer Stephens stepped forward and patted my shoulder. “You can request a re-examination when Dr. James writes a letter to the judge on your behalf. Plus, if the doctor clears you to drive, the judge may simply put an expiration date on your suspension. But Hannah, you drove recklessly last night, and it resulted in a fatality.”

I breathed deeply through my nose, signed the form, and returned it to him.

“She's a good kid,” Mom said.

“I can see that.” He tore off the back copy of the citation and gave it to Mom.

I wiped my face and shook out my hands.

“Ready to go?” Mom asked.

“I need to see Manny and Lily first,” I said.

“The nurse said we can't see Lily today,” Mom said.

We stepped into the hall and spotted Mrs. Santos coming our way. “Manny is asking for you.”

She led us to Manny's room, and my spirits lifted as I stepped over the threshold. Sunshine flooded through the window, and the fragrance of flowers overwhelmed me. Bouquets and balloons adorned the room. Manny's mom probably brought them to cheer him up. Manny propped himself up in bed, and a smile lit across his face when we made eye contact. I ran and threw my arms around him.

“Careful!” Manny said. His body clenched. “Two cracked ribs.” I leaned back, and he flushed red with pain.

“Sorry.” I perched next to him and tried to hold back my emotions, but the thought of hurting Manny yet again was too much to bear. He reached up with his thumb and wiped the tears from my face.

“We'll give you a few minutes,” Mrs. Santos said. She set her hand on my mom's back and guided her from the room.

“It's not your fault,” Manny whispered.

“Jordan is dead, Lily's in ICU, and you're all broken up.”

Manny's eyes welled. “I'll be fine.” He lifted his chin, refusing to cry. “Lily will be fine.” He tucked my hair behind my ear.

“Jordan is dead,” I said.

Manny pointed at me. “You told him to put his seat belt on.” The heart rate monitor beeped faster.

I laced my fingers with his.

“I let go of the steering wheel.” I lowered my gaze and lowered my voice and spoke as fast as possible. “Ants crawled across my skin, and I freaked. I saw this crazy black smoke. A doctor did a consult. He thinks I might be nuts. He thinks the hypnosis may have triggered an underlying psychosis.”

“What?”

Surely he didn't expect me to say it all again.

“You are not nuts.” He drew me in closer, and I carefully embraced him.

“Things won't ever be the same,” I said.

“Maybe not, but we don't have to change.”

“When will you get out of the hospital?” I asked.

“They said they want to monitor me for a day or two to make sure there's no internal bleeding.”

“Days?” My breath caught.

“It'll be okay,” Manny said.

I drew my finger along his jaw where plum-colored bruises had already formed. I cautiously leaned in and kissed him. When I pulled back, our eyes locked.

“Manny, I love you.” I blurted out the words, which had been in my heart for years. The accident made me realize I couldn't wait another day to tell him . . . even if he felt differently. I needed him to know I loved him more than anything.

“I've loved you longer,” he said. My heart lifted. Hearing those words, I believed anything was possible.

He caressed my neck and inhaled. “You still smell like flowers. That hasn't changed.” He pulled me close for a long kiss, and I melted. Before we said anything else to each other, Mrs. Santos and my mom came back into the room.

“We need to go.” Mom motioned toward the door.

“We'll be okay.” Manny squeezed my hand. “Remember what I said.”

I nodded.

Mom touched my elbow and ushered me from the room.