Wishful Thinking (12 page)

Water ran up my nose awakening me. My hands instinctively went to my head while my brain banged out a rhythm of pain against my skull. I pushed myself into a sitting position and almost fell over again when a bout of dizziness hit. It took a few seconds for my blurring and double vision to subside and I could see where I was.
 

It looked like a bomb went off around me. Books and paper were strewn about. One of the shelves from the bookcase was on the ground and my dad’s water garden lay busted next to me soaking through my pants. When I pushed myself up I cut my hand on a piece of glass. A scratching noise came from the hallway and I looked up—he was still here. There wasn’t another door to my dad’s office beyond the one that opened into the hall.
 

I grabbed the first thing my hands felt on the bookcase behind me, a leaded glass vase, and made a soundless, but dizzying way to the window (okay, I probably made a ton of noise but my hearing was blinking in and out). Thank god, the window was open, I wouldn’t have to make more noise opening it. Scratching in the hallway was getting louder coming closer.
 

Shit!
 

My back stayed to the window my eyes on the doorway as I walked backwards the vase outstretched in my hand ready to launch it at whoever came through that door. A few more steps and my back hit wall. I whirled around, pushed out the screen and without a second glance over my shoulder, shoved through the opening. I landed on my ass in a stiff, snow covered evergreen below that did nothing to soften my fall at all.
   

Another surge of pain vibrated through my body making me slow in getting up. I limped my way around the outside perimeter of my house, eyes darting in every direction looking for any sign of the intruder.
 
When I reached the sidewalk in front of my house I took a deep breath and ran for Dean’s across the street.
 

Mrs. Kingsly answered and before she could say a word I said, “Call the police,” and collapsed on her doorstep.

✩

“Walk me through it one more time,” Officer Hogue said. He adjusted the radio on his shoulder clicking a button to quiet the voice speaking in codes. His thick brown mustache twitched every time his jaw tightened and his bushy eyebrows appeared to dance as he looked up at me. My eyes kept being drawn to the two patrol cars parked in the street with their red and blue lights flashing. Neighbors slowed as they passed our house. Seeing cops doing anything besides patrolling our neighborhood was sure to be the topic of gossip.
 

That’s all I needed—attention. Last time cops were at our house was when they brought me home after my meltdown at Best Buy.
 

Officer Hogue shifted feet his pen pressed against his notebook waiting for my response. The bag of ice rustled in my hand as I adjusted it over my forehead.
 

“Like I said, I was in the kitchen getting a drink when I heard a noise … I thought it was my dad so I went to look for him and that’s when I saw the guy in the mask.”

“Can you describe his mask for me?"

“It was dark blue, maybe black, and it only had eye holes which pushed up the royally screwed factor,” I said.
 

Officer Hogue tapped his notepad not as worried about screwed factors as me apparently.
 

“Was there anything distinguishing about his eyes."

“Not really, they were dark, like his eyes were so dark it looked like he had pupils for eyes." I adjusted the ice pack, hoping my brain would stop throbbing soon.
 

“Junior, you need to sit down,” dad chimed in.
 

Right after Mrs. Kingsly called the police she called my dad. He must have sped through every red light because he was here in like two-seconds.
 

“I’m fine, my head hurts a little, but I’m fine.”
 

I so wasn’t fine.
 

Officer Hogue looked at my father, “If you’d like we can finish this down at the station tomorrow.”

“No, I’m fine,” I said again. The last place I wanted to spend my time was at the police station.
 

“Did you get a look at what he was wearing,” Officer Hogue asked after my dad nodded for him to continue.
 

“I think he was wearing jeans, and a jacket. It looked kind of like the jackets they wear on CSI.”

“Did his jacket say CSI?”

I went to shake my head no, and almost lost my balance. “No,” I said closing my eyes. “It just looked like those jackets … but I don’t know what they’re called."

“I think he means a windbreaker,” dad supplied.
 

“No, not that, you know those jackets you all thought were cool in the eighties, Will Ferrel wears one in Night at the Roxbury,” I said.

They all stared blank faced at me and I tried to remember what those stupid jackets were called and then it clicked. “A members only jacket, that’s what it was. I think. Then again it might have been a windbreaker.”

“I see,” Officer Hogue said, “Did he have a weapon?”

“No,” I said, “I don’t think so. It all happened so fast and …”

Officer Hogue tapped on his notebook and then tucked it into one of the pockets of his shirt. “Mr. Castle,” Officer Hogue waved over another officer who was examining the garage.

 
The officer came over, "Yes sir," she said stopping next to Officer Hogue. She was a petite woman with dark red hair wrapped into a tight bun.
 

I don’t know whether it’s my dad’s baritone voice, or the six foot two, athletic build of a forty year old man, but women swoon over my father, as Officer Fields was doing now. Her eyes never left my dad’s face and she kept biting her lip. One thing I wondered was if my father was only acting oblivious to her obvious interest, or if he was in fact oblivious to it. Lucky for me the ice-pack was covering up the faces I was making.
 

“… officer Fields is going to take a walk with you through the house, I want you to note to her anything out of place, and what, if anything is missing."

"Okay," dad said. They headed toward the house, I followed until I couldn’t breathe. If I didn’t feel like a puss before, I did now. Having a panic attack after being thrown around like a rag doll in my own house, where was my man card? I took one step up the porch stairs and stopped, the ground kept looking like it was right below my chin. I turned around in time to see the black Charger creeping by with its driver side window cracked. The engine roared and the car sped away just as I threw up. I couldn’t even be casual about tossing my cookies, because when I threw up again my vision blurred and the next thing I knew the ground came up to greet my face.
 

“James if you can hear me I need you to open your eyes,” a thick Jamaican voice said.
 

When I opened my eyes I was staring at the roof of an ambulance, a dark skinned woman with a short afro was staring down at me. "There you are," she said. She had a nice smile. “Can you tell me your name?”

“James,” I said. My eyes fluttered closed again.
 

She snapped in my ear, “James, I need you to stay with me.”

My dad’s face joined hers in staring down at me, etched with worry. I attempted to sit up and the woman pushed at my chest keeping me lying down, “Stay still, you have a possible concussion.”

I turned my head to look back at my dad who smiled and squeezed my hand before wiping a stray tear at the corner of his eye. "You’re going to be fine," were the last words he said before I blacked out again.

The chains creaked and rattled as I kicked my feet trying to go higher. There was no way she was going to end up with my pudding cup. Being the highest swinger meant two pudding cups, it was a rule, Kevin said so. Kevin was smarter than all of us on account of his glasses. Everyone knows smart people wear glasses. Tina, our babysitter, wears them and she’s super smart.
 

Chloe was giggling. Don’t look, don’t look. But I had to. She was looking back at me and smiling and then she let go of the swing and jumped. For a minute she was flying eclipsing the sun. She landed on her feet and said, “Tada.”

 
I couldn’t help but squeal. My sister was a superhero. Maybe she was right about eating glue, maybe it did give you superpowers. As soon as we got home I was finding my glue stick. I stopped swinging my legs and slowed down, I’d never jump on account I’m not a superhero.
 

“Did you see,” Chloe said when I jumped off the swing and ran to her.
 

I nodded. “Did you touch the sun?”

“Yep,” and she turned to show me her fingers.

“Jameson, Chloe, where are you?” Mommy was calling us, “time to go.”
 

The sun disappeared and the sky grew black. Rain came down hard. I screamed for Chloe, but she was gone and it was raining so hard and I was scared. A loud booming crack threatened to shake me from my shoes. Then the sky and everything around me turned a blinding white. I continued screaming for Chloe but my voice was drowned out by the sounds of sirens. Oh no.
 

Fluorescents lights blinded me when I opened my eyes again. Guess I wasn’t as fine as I thought I was. My right arm was cold and had several tubes and wires attached to it.
 
An older woman with black hair and blue scrubs was standing over me holding a stethoscope to my chest and a woman wearing purple scrubs was standing next to her writing down everything she said.
 

“James, can you tell me where you are?” blue scrubs asked moving the stethoscope around.
 

“By the looks of it a hospital,” I said.
 

She flashed a light in each of my ears. “Looks good.”
 
She placed her hands on each side of my face and started running her fingers along my jaw line. Her hands were cold and I shivered. “Sorry,” she said at the sight of my goosebumps. She turned to the other woman, a nurse I assumed and told her to get a blanket.
 

She then turned back to me. “Do you know why you’re here?”
 

“I was knocked out.”

 
A machine beeped and the pressure on my left arm released.

“BP is 119 over 79,” the nurse said.
   

“Good.” The woman in blue scrubs moved her stethoscope back around her neck and introduced herself. “I’m Dr. Adams and I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer them to the best of your knowledge. Okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said.
 

“I’m sure you are,” Dr. Adams replied, “but humor me.” She smiled and I was reminded of Ya-Ya and couldn’t help, but be polite.
 

“What’s your full name?”

Didn’t she already know this? “Jameson. No wait, I mean James, James Richard Castle.” Where the hell did the name Jameson come from? Ow my head hurt. Never mind think about it later.

She squeezed my hand, “Good. What’s my name?”

Seriously? “Dr. Adams.”

She continued asking me questions. Like what today’s date was, where I went to school, what my father did for a living and if I had a car. To which I asked if she was hitting on me. She didn’t laugh, but the nurse giggled. Then she went through a series of other tests to check my strength, balance and reflexes and finished up with a few memory exercises. I did pretty well, I think? When she finished she ordered another series of tests including a CT scan.

It was well after ten o’clock in the evening before I was done playing guinea pig and told I could go home. Dr. Adams said I had a grade three concussion and I’d need to take it easy for a few days. She wrote a prescription for pain meds. Said I needed lots of rest, meaning no school, no homework and no housework. Maybe having a concussion could be a good thing. I was digging this whole concussion thing until she said no strenuous activities. Computer time, video games and driving were all out. Great how was I supposed to spend all this free time?
 

And then as almost an afterthought as Dr. Adams was leaving the room, she turned around and said, “And no sex for about a week.”

My face heated and I’m sure I was red as a beet and with that she was out the door and gone.
 

“Shall we get out of here, Junior?” dad said handing me my clothes his face as red as mine.
 

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

 
Dad helped me dress and then we made our way home. I was exhausted and for the first time in a while I smiled at the sight of my bed. Within in seconds I was asleep.
 

My cell phone was ringing off the hook. Every half-hour Van Morrison beckoned from my dad’s room, tormenting me since I wasn’t allowed to answer, or look at my cell phone for that matter. Damn doctor’s orders. My dad had taken my phone, along with my laptop, and anything else that I might bide my time with while I was trapped at home. They were off limits and I was going out of my mind with all this free time.
 

Hence, why by Wednesday I was bored out of my mind being cooped up at home, no technology. Sure it hurt to concentrate, if I looked at anything longer than a minute it went blurry, and I had a nonstop headache, but staring at the walls for hours on end wasn’t any better. After sleeping all of Tuesday away, I couldn’t even sleep anymore and I tried.