Missing (14 page)

“What are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Comin' to get you,” Josh answered.

Sam shook his head, then toppled back down on the bed and pulled up the sheets. But Josh quickly ripped off the sheets and slapped his face a few times to wake him up.

“Owww,”
Sam slurred, annoyed. He sat up straight and rubbed his cheek. “What was that—”

“Come on, dude, enough with this depressed shit,” Josh interrupted, fishing out a thick sweater and a pair of jeans from the flipped-over dresser drawer on the floor. “Put those on. We're getting out of this room
now.
”

Jesus. Sam didn't want to know what would happen if he refused.
Josh would probably slap him again.
And truth be told, he was too groggy to argue. He simply did as Josh said and stepped dizzily into his jeans, throwing on a T-shirt from next to the bed and then the sweater. Josh lent a hand by throwing Sam's shoes at him—thwacking him right on the chest.

“All right!” Sam protested. “Christ.” He laughed, feeling a little more coherent. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“I'm just trying to get you out of here,” Josh explained.

“Why?” Sam asked. He bent over to tie his shoes. But Josh grabbed him off the bed and helped him on with his coat.

“Sam, my friend, it's five o'clock in the afternoon. And you know what that means, don't you?”

Sam shook his head—just as Josh grabbed a wool stocking cap off the floor and slapped it over him.

“It means that it's happy hour,” Josh said. “It's time to get you happy.”

For a second Sam just stared at the guy. A fleeting nausea tugged at his stomach. The last time he'd tried to “get happy” with booze, he'd wound up in bed with Ella—
which, of course, was the first blind step into the huge, twisted pile of shit his life had now become.
Part of him felt like
telling Josh that he
couldn't
get happy. Happiness was an impossibility.

But another part desperately craved happiness. The thought of being happy filled him with longing; he almost felt like he was catching a whiff of some long-forgotten, delicious dessert he hadn't had since he was a kid. That was the part of him that didn't want to be alone . . . the part that feared Josh might vanish as quickly as he'd appeared, leaving Sam without a friend in the world. No, it was best not to question the one little bit of good luck he had. It was best just to accept Josh's offer.

 

ONCE AGAIN ED HAD FOUND HIMSELF
roaming the streets, trying to clear his head. After school he'd taken Houston all the way to the East River, where he knew it would be the coldest— hoping the freezing air would cool the boiling blood in his veins.

But no. Of course it hadn't.

So he'd turned around and headed home.

He'd been pumping the wheels on the chair so hard that his hands were beginning to cramp and
blister. He couldn't even remember the last time that had happened. But that was no surprise. All his memories were foggy.
So many new feelings and experiences were raining down on him that he felt like his brain had been dropped in a blender set on puree.
For about forty-eight hours.

Well, he knew one thing for sure. There was no point in seeking solace at Gaia's house today—the way he had for so many months in the past. She wasn't there. She hadn't even
cared
enough to tell him she'd be gone for who knew how long. No, today Ed would just be going to his very own room. But it wouldn't be so bad. In his room no one could get to him, or disappoint him, or ask anything of him.

The apartment building offered sweet relief from the cold, and the elevator was even warmer. Ed hurried down the hall to his apartment, crammed his key into the lock, then rolled inside.

“I'm home,” he called, slamming the door behind him.

No answer. Good sign. His parents were probably both still at work. He threw off his coat and moved straight for the kitchen.
It was time for the world's largest milk shake, possibly two.
Nothing else could possibly ease his pain—

“Little bro! What's up!”

But the pain was just beginning.

Victoria was there. Of course. He'd conveniently forgotten that she would be visiting while her new fiancé, Blane (he still couldn't get used to the sheer heinousness of that name), was on business in Milan.

Before Ed could duck and cover, Victoria threw her arms around him and planted a wet kiss on his cheek. Was it his imagination, or did her breath smell like she'd been drinking? It wasn't even six o'clock yet—

“What's up, stallion?” she cooed, rubbing the top of Ed's head.

He smiled—but at this particular moment, as his patience was at an all-time low, he realized something.
If she didn't stop petting him like a dog in the next three seconds, he might have to slap her.
As usual, she was overcompensating. The way she had at the engagement party. The way she had pretty much every single time she'd laid eyes on him since the accident.

The sad truth was that she could never truly accept a disabled brother. Not with her shallow value system and materialistic ways. From the day he'd returned from the hospital after the accident, all she'd done was avoid him—or else provide sickeningly sweet, ill-conceived pep talks about how he'd be “back on his feet in no time” . . . when she was only trying to convince herself.

Thankfully, she removed her hand.

“Hey, Victoria,” he mumbled.

He'd forgotten how much he'd appreciate her avoiding him, in fact. She'd been so deeply offensive, condescending, and butt annoying, Ed had begun to do everything in his power to avoid her, too. But of all the days he would
not
want to see her, this one really had to take the cake.
Especially considering the fact that this was the first time he'd seen her since his surgery.
And oh, she was sure to go to town with that one—

“So!” she squealed, pulling a kitchen chair from the table and sitting on it backward, getting right up in Ed's face as she sucked down her mineral water. “Are you, like, so excited?”

So freaking fed up and annoyed, you mean!
he screamed back silently.

For about the tenth time in twenty-four hours Ed felt nauseated. He couldn't even look at her—not with that disgusting wide-eyed thrill she clearly had at the prospect of having a “normal” brother again. Could she be any more transparent about it? Ed didn't think he'd be able to mask his contempt.
Luckily Victoria was so deeply egocentric that she didn't even notice what was on Ed's face.
She just assumed that whatever she was feeling must be what everyone else was feeling ...or if not, then at least what they
should
be feeling.

“Hel-
lo?
” she went on. “I mean, this is like a miracle! It's, like, the best thing that's ever happened to you since that stupid accident, right?”

There was nothing stupid about my accident,
Ed answered in his head.
How on earth did you get to be my sister?
But he still said nothing. Maybe she would think he'd gone mute and leave.

“I know, you're totally speechless, right?” She put her hand on Ed's knee. “God,” she uttered, pouring on the melodramatic amazement, “you could just suddenly stand up and be, like, totally normal again. And you know what?” She lowered her voice to that bizarre gossip volume that only she and her friends seemed to indulge in. “I bet you could have Heather back like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Like that.”

Each blink of Ed's eyes was a countdown to his own combustion. It dawned on him that she could potentially keep talking for hours. He was going to have to get himself out of this.

“I mean, like
really
have her back, Ed, you know? Not just as a date to a party. Not just for show. How psyched would you be for that?”

Actually, that's a very good question. Kudos, Victoria. Kudos.

“Yeah,” he finally said in a dark monotone. “I've gotta go now.”

He tried to move around Victoria, but she wasn't budging. It was as if she'd been transformed into an android that went blank when other people were talking.

“Sooo ...? How soon?”

“How soon
what?
” Ed mumbled.

She laughed. “Come on, dummy. How soon till you're up on your feet?”

He couldn't believe this. Hadn't Mom and Dad told her
anything?
Well, they probably had, but she just didn't hear any of the parts she didn't like.

“I'm in physical therapy,” he said, staring down at the kitchen floor for fear that he might try to strangle her if he met her gaze.

“Okay, okay. When's that done?”

“Done?” he snapped. “I don't know when it's done. It might never be done.”

Victoria groaned in frustration. “Well, are you making any progress?”

Just the question he didn't want to hear. Just exactly the one and only question that could send him over the edge.
The terrible question that made him see his sister's face and Heather's face as one and the same.
He hated that. They
weren't
the same. But in this one instance, and this one instance only, the lie was better than the truth. At least the lie gave him a chance to tell his sister how he really felt.

“No!” Ed shouted, glaring up at her. “I haven't made a goddamn bit of progress! Can't feel a damn thing!”

Victoria's jaw dropped. “I'm . . . sorry,” she whispered, her face frozen in shock.

“I know you are,” Ed muttered. He started butting
his sister's chair bit by bit to get her out of his way. “That's the problem. You don't have to be sorry. This is my life. By the way, did you know there's a nice big fat chance that the surgery might be totally useless? I mean, I could just be good old crippled Ed for the rest of my life.”

“Ed, no,” she croaked, shaking her head. “Stop it. Things are going to change—”

“And what if they don't?” he interrupted. He kept ramming the chair. She hopped out of it, but he didn't stop. No. This was just the thing to let out some extra aggression. Yup.
It was the kitchen version of a demolition derby.
He pounded away at the chair—venting all his pent-up frustration, all his confusion, rage, and self-loathing for having to lie. . . . There was a sharp crack. The bottom doweling was coming apart. Good. The chair might make some nice kindling for a fire—

“Ed!”

Wonderful. His mother
was
home. She came running into the kitchen, just in time to witness his freak-out.
It must have been something of a privilege to behold, given that Ed almost never behaved this way.
He glanced up at Victoria, who had backed up against the refrigerator and was staring at him as if he were a rabid dog. He might have laughed if he wasn't so ashamed.

“What's happening?” his mother cried.

“Nothing, Mom,” Ed mumbled, finally jerking to a stop. “I seem to have broken a kitchen chair what with this clumsy wheelchair.” He felt like he was listening to someone else.
Uh-oh.
He really was losing it, wasn't he?
Time to beat a hasty retreat.
“Well, I better get on over to my room and start my physical therapy—because I know how important
that
is. I wouldn't want to let anybody down and
stay
in the chair.”

Neither his mom nor Victoria made a sound. They just stared at him.

Ed spun out of the kitchen and raced into his room, slamming the door behind him and locking it. But then his mother came pounding on his door a few seconds later.

“Ed? What's wrong, honey—”

The phone began to ring.

At this point Ed just had to laugh.
Boy, shit really came in piles, didn't it?
That was Heather for sure. Ed ignored both the ringing and the pounding and pulled up to his computer to log on to his e-mail. Maybe Gaia had written—

No new messages.

Nope. She hadn't even e-mailed him. It was just another little dart piercing everyone's favorite new target—Ed's heart.

The phone kept ringing. His mother kept knocking.

“Listen, I'm sure Victoria didn't mean anything—”

“Go away, Mom.” Ed pulled away from his desk, grabbed onto the handlebars above his bed, and hurled himself into bed.

Pain was becoming more and more meaningless to Ed every minute. Physical and emotional pain. He found himself numbing to all his sadness, confusion, and anger, too. Yup, it was official. Ed's heart had finally shut down from emotional overload.

Wouldn't Heather be just delighted to know . . . Ed couldn't feel a thing.

 

Katia.

If only you could see our daughter. If only you could glimpse this lovely human being who carries around so much of you—who keeps you alive every day, with every breath she takes. If only you could see how she's blossomed in these five years.

I've spent all this time feeling sorry for myself, but tonight, Katia, my heart aches for you, knowing you'll never have the chance to see how our daughter has grown, to see what she's become. The pride that has flooded my heart in these few days is for
both
of us, my darling. Please know that.

She is truly a wonder, our Gaia.

Observing her from a distance for so long, watching over her from afar, I'd never been able to perceive more than the merest fraction of the whole picture. The truth is, I've been in such awe of her strength and her flawless fighting ability—and perhaps most of all, her indomitable will to
survive
, no matter what the challenge—that I never allowed myself to see anything else.