Page 92 of The Summer Show
thirty-three
As it turned out, there was a limit to how much time I could spend reading and scrolling on my phone. At some point my eyes drifted shut and the rest of my body went with them.
I became aware that something had changed in the ward when I heard yelling. Distant, at first. Then closer.
It was like that scene in Aliens with the motion detectors. One white dot, at first, then dozens, all coming right for me. Like Bill Paxton, I was freaking out. As close as the shouting sounded, I would swear it was in the room with me.
“She’s my daughter! My baby! You can’t stop me from going in there.” Then: “Did the cameras get that?”
Mom.
A deeper voice, filled with conviction and bubbling anger: “Maybe I can’t stop you, but I sure as shit can make sure you don’t cause Kathleen any more harm.”
Nick.
Mom gave a little gasp. “Who do you think you are?”
“Nick Merrick. I’m her … friend.”
There was a pause, then Mom gave a mean little laugh. “Oh, I see. Kathleen’s got a little scripted romance? That’s okay, I know it’s all fake. You don’t have to pretend to care about her, because I know how these shows work. Sugar, you’d be wasted on my daughter anyway. She’s the human equivalent of unsalted mashed potatoes.”
Yellowjackets moved into my head and got to work building a nest. The buzzing in my ears caused all other sounds to fade like old denim. My extremities went numb. My heart swapped places with a cup of ice.
I understood now. After thirty years of my mother’s negligence, her disdain for me finally registered. Even now, when I was in the hospital for an asthma attack she caused, she couldn’t muster an ounce of empathy.
“Move,” Mom said in the corridor.
Nick refused to budge. “Touch her—hurt her—and I’ll make you regret the day you were born. I’ll make you disappear, and I bet no one will miss you.”
My mother was aghast. She moved through life like a massive mining truck. Almost nobody stood up to her, except Dad and my grandparents. And now here was Nick Merrick, forming a wall between her and me. “You can’t talk to people like that.”
“I can when you’re endangering people I care about. I can when it’s her.” He was pointing. At me. Even with my one eye open I could see his finger.
My heart stopped. Again. At least it felt that way. Wait—no. Nurses were rushing into the room to check on me.
“Your pulse is elevated,” one of them said.
The opposite of stopped.
Nick stumbled in behind them, his face chalk white.
I flipped a little wave at him. “I’m okay, I promise.”
Blood returned to his face. “Good.”
He glanced back. My mother was behind him, glaring a hole in his shirt. He turned, ready to protect me.
“Nick, she can come in,” I said.
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
His nostrils flared. “Okay.”
On the way in, Mom shot him a look like she had won something. In truth, she’d lost everything that mattered, but she didn’t know it yet. She never really would understand.
“Shut the door, Susan,” I said.