Envious (20 page)

I shifted my backpack on my shoulders, tired of the immense weight. As my house came into view, I saw that Todd’s car had not only returned, but that he had parked it on the lawn. The grass was chewed up and dug into, as if h
e had been run off the road and had abandoned his car there. I continued forward, angry that he would treat my family’s lawn like a parking lot.
Where was he anyway?
I stepped up to his car, looking inside. He wasn’t in there. Then I saw Todd, thin as can be, huddled on the front steps of my house like a scared little boy. His hands covered his head and he rocked himself forward and back, humming to himself. Then he looked up, catching my eye.

“Sandy?” he said, squinting as if I were miles away and not just a couple yards.

“Where have you been for the past three weeks?” I asked, hating him for disappearing. I didn’t want him there, but I didn’t want to hear about him not being there either. That was worse, although at that moment, it was preferable.

He looked down, still rocking himself protectively, his eyes hidden behind his dark hair. “Sandy, I need your help. There’s someone…following me. In my trunk.”

I glanced nervously next to me, at the sealed trunk of his nasty car. “What?” I asked.

“It’s my dad,” he said, sitting up straight now. His head jerked, like a tick and he breathed quickly. He was hyperventilating. I could actually see his heart beating through his loose shirt, the fabric moving with its very quick pace.

“Your dad is dead,” I told him.

He ignored my statement and began talking with his hands, explaining, “I was in the bathroom, and I saw him, staring back at me.”

“In the mirror?” I asked, dropping my heavy backpack to the ground. The idiot, he saw his own reflection.

Todd looked at me, confused. “No, he wasn’t in the glass…he was in front of it, on it. He looked just like the photos at Grandma’s.” Todd stood, stumbling a bit as he descended the steps to the lawn. He stretched out his hands in front of him, “I reached out to him, and he reached out to me…” I could tell, even from the distance Todd stood from me, that his eyes looked lost, unfocused, glazed over. “And I freaked,” he told me, starting to seem panicked, “I ran! And he followed me! He’s been in my trunk for days, following me!” Todd pleaded with me to believe him.

“So what do you need me for?” I asked.

He pointed at his trunk with a trembling hand, “I need you to open my trunk.”

I gave his car a wary glance. His assurance was making me nervous. Maybe there really was someone in his trunk. It wasn’t his dad, but someone…

“Please, Sandy,” Todd begged. “Please…” he said, holding his head in his hands protectively. “Open it, open it, open it!”

I summoned my courage, or hatred for him, and said, “Fine.” I went to his door and pulled the trunk release, then walked around to the trunk and pulled it up. I jumped away, just incase. Todd nervously glanced around me and we both saw that the trunk was empty.

“See?” I told him.

“Gone? He’s gone? How did he escape?” Todd asked.

“He’s
dead
,” I told him.

“You’re right Sandy. You’re right. He’s dead. Dead, dead. Dead, Todd!” he yelled, slamming the trunk closed. He punched the top of his trunk, and I winced, expecting him to scream out in pain. He didn’t. He just stood there unsteadily, then looked at me, saying, “He flew away. I have to follow him. I need to find him. He must have wanted something from me.” He reached into his pocket for something. He drew out a short glass tube, shook his head, putting it back. Then he pulled a cigarette from his pocket. He nodded, that was what he was looking for. He put it in his mouth and held his lighter out before him, about six inches away from the end. He held the flame there until he thought it was lit, then dropped the lighter to the ground. He paced the sidewalk, cigarette in hand, putting his other hand into his pocket. I watched curiously as he lifted that hand to his nose, sniffling, looking as if he were about to sneeze.

Todd stepped up onto the curb, facing into the street. He kind of rocked his body forward and back, swaying, like the smallest breeze could blow him over. His hands trembled. But not just his hands. His entire body seemed to shake softly as he stood, balancing on the raised curb. I watched, unable to tear my eyes away. It was like watching a train wreck. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing and ventured a bit closer to him.

“Sandy?” he called out nervously.

“Yeah,” I grunted.

“Let me tell you, Sandy, a story, about a shoe,” Todd began oddly. “Named Blue. Poor Blue. There was nothing he could do. For he was just a shoe.”

“And…?” I asked, trying to get a good look at his face without stepping into the road. I didn’t know what I should be looking for, but my parents did it all the time with him. He was either high or had finally snapped. Probably both.

“And
what
? That’s his
story
,” he told me, most of his face hidden in shadow. “He wanted to go out climbing, wanted to walk, wanted to run. It’s what he was made for. But he couldn’t. Because, alone, he was just a shoe. Alone, he was
Blue
.”

“Deep,” I said sarcastically as I caught a glimpse of what I was looking for. His face was not normal. His eyes had clouded over and were red. He looked like hell, like he hadn’t slept in days, weeks even. It was frightening.

“Yeah, yeah, it is. Fuckin’ deep,” he said, nodding in approval. “Like the ocean. Blue.”

Todd attempted to take a drag from his unlit cigarette, then flicked it from his trembling fingers. He watched as it fell to the pavement of the road before him, but he watched too far, for too long. A look of nervousness crossed his face. He lifted his chin, looking off in
to the distance, and rolled on his feet; he rolled from heel to toe and bounced back to his heels, balancing on the thin curb blocks. I watched him anxiously, not sure what to expect.

“I’m gonna jump off this building,” he said, so seriously. His voice was deep and grave.

“What?” I asked in disbelief.

“I have to follow my dad. I have to know what he wanted.” He outstretched his arms, as if he really believed he were at the edge of a tall building. He was only standing about three inches above the street.

“It’s decision time,” he said, looking down at the road. “Judgment day. Live or die. Fly or fall. I can fly, Sandy. I know I can. I’m not like Blue. I can do this. I’m sick of walking. I’m gonna jump.”

“Go ahead,” I challenged him, wanting to be done with the idiot. “Jump.”

Todd closed his eyes, as if mentally preparing himself. He leaned forward…too far. I blinked and within an instant, he hit the pavement with his face.

I stared, horrified, afraid to go closer, afraid of what he might do, or if he could do anything. I approached cautiously, carefully, with legs heavy as lead.

Blood. I saw red blood on the asphalt. I cringed at the sight. He wasn’t moving. His eyes were open, vacant and terrifying. I rushed into the house, reached for the phone, knocking it off the table in the process. I snatched up the receiver and dialed 911. I didn’t know what else to do. When they answered, I blurted out in a rushed panic, “My cousin, he’s high and passed out. Hit his head.”

I told them our address and hung up, rushing outside to find Todd still lying in the street. He hadn’t moved at all, but he began to laugh into the blacktop. “Sandy…it was beautiful. I did it, I flew.”

“No, you didn’t, Todd.”

He climbed to his knees with an odd sense of calm. He turned to face me. There was blood all around his right eye, oozing from his brow in a sea of red. His right cheekbone and bridge of his nose were scraped badly. His nose was bleeding heavily, dripping dark red blood from his nostrils down over his lips as he talked. “I did. I soared above it all.”

“You fell, Todd,” I told him, working hard to keep the shaking from my voice.

Todd pulled a small plastic bag from his pocket and swallowed its contents dry. I couldn’t see what it was, but I was sure it wasn’t good. He pushed himself to his feet, looking weak and wobbly.

“No, Sandy, you just don’t understand,” he said, his eyes staring through deep red blood at my face. “You need to open your mind and the truth of lies will come to you.”

He lifted his hands to the sky as he continued, looking like he could fall over any second, “Like the rays of sunlight pierce the moon, illuminating it, so you will be. We battle, fight for our lives until the enemy is dead. Victorious.” Todd stumbled, falling to the grass, but continued on, unfazed, “Then we become the terminators. Hate begets hate. Love begets hate. Indifference begets hate.”

Todd sat up and pushed himself back up to his feet, with blood dripping down onto his shirt from his face, staining the gray fabric. “Welcome to the free world, Sandy. Embrace it, believe in it and it will tear you open with pleasure. That’s what life is, Sandy. Pain.”

He wiped his fingers across his lips and stared bewildered at the blood that stained them, as if he didn’t know what it was or how it had gotten there. He staggered across the lawn to his car and fell against the side of it. He pulled the door open, leaving red blood smears across the white metal. Todd collapsed into the driver seat of his car and gripped the wheel, staring through the windshield. He seemed to realize that the car wasn’t on and instead of finding his keys, he began to press every button he could find.

I sat down on the steps to my home, staring in disbelief as he gave up and looked through the windshield again. I don’t know what he thought he saw, but he didn’t even notice the sound of the sirens approaching. He just stared, jaw slack and eyes blank. He stared, frozen, like a mannequin. Police arrived, followed by an ambulance, and I walked into the house, done with Todd.

I sat in Aurora’s new car, on the way to the hospital. I didn’t want to go, but Aurora was convinced that I would regret not going. She reached over, squeezing my hand in hers, like we were still little kids. “Its okay, Sandy. Everything will be fine,” she told me.

“I know,” I told her. I wasn’t worried about Todd. Why would I be? He was in the hospital because of his decisions. Clearly, he wanted to be there. They were holding him there, yesterday and today, and maybe tomorrow too, like he was a mental patient. Apparently that’s what happens when they think you’re a danger to yourself and others. Stupid Todd.

“I’m only going because you want me to,” I told Aurora.

“Trust me,” she said. “If something were to happen to him, you would never forgive yourself.”

Aurora walked me inside and to the mental ward. They let me into the visiting area and Aurora waited in the hallway. A gruff-looking woman went into a room and seconds later emerged with Todd next to her. He stood taller than the woman, even through his slouch, but he looked as though he weighed half of what she did. But his face was no longer red and white but his normal tan shade, aside from a massive bruise covering most of the right side of his face and the bridge of his nose. His eyebrow had a thick white bandage taped over it. Todd wore clothes that were not his, blue sweatpants and a white t-shirt. No socks or shoes. No one but the nurses and doctors seemed to wear socks and shoes.

When Todd saw me, his expression went from one of tortured annoyance, to his version of a happy smile. His face relaxed and his eyes softened, appearing light, deep and kind. I hated when he gave me his kind eyes. It made me feel guilty for not returning the expression.

“Sandy,” he said as he reached for me, arms outstretched for an embrace. I backed away, not wanting to feel his slimy grip on me. He noticed and dropped his arms, then took a seat at a table. I slid into the plastic seat across from him and he looked to the floor. I watched him curiously for a moment, before he asked, “Does my mom…does she know where I am?”

“Yes,” I told him. “Grandma told her.”

“Are they…coming to see me?” Todd asked quietly. His voice sounded rough as sandpaper.

“No, I don’t think so. Your mom…she has work and…yeah…” I said, knowing it was a lame excuse. Grandma was just too upset with him to come.

“Aunt Linda?” he asked.

“Work,” I answered.

Todd nodded. “I’ll be out tomorrow,” he said. “Unless I hurt myself. Or someone else. Maybe I will. The food’s not too bad. Kinda like a vacation here,” he said with a thin edge of sarcasm. Then he shook his head regretfully. “You’re the only one who came. How sad is that? None of my friends…I called them, too. Stupid.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, staring at the deep purple bruise on his face. My eyes teared up unexpectedly. I couldn’t help it. I felt my nose go numb and my hands begin to tremble on the table’s surface. Todd noticed and looked at me with those kind gray eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing one hand on mine. I pulled away immediately. “It’s alright. I’m okay,” he told me. “You don’t have to worry about me. It’s a waste of time, really.”

“No,” I began. “I’m not. It’s not that.”

“Oh,” Todd said, lifting his chin slowly. He watched me, waiting for my explanation.

“I didn’t know what to do. The blood and…I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you called the cops. Good. They didn’t arrest me, so everything’s good. You can call them every time you see me. I don’t care, alright?”