Lila piped up, "It is amazing how quickly we can be stupid."
Mike snorted laughter, and Keke cackled, "Lila, I love you."
"Y wouldn't say stuff like that to each other in public if you could see yourselves," said a football player walking over. "Did you all take your pants off?
ou The swim team really knows how to throw a party."
Keke laughed. "Y have no idea."
"THE LOVEBIRDS ARE BACK!" SAID A doctor in a long white coat over pink scrubs. She brushed my damp bangs aside. "How's the head?"
I glanced down at Doug filling out forms. He sat in a wheelchair with a blanket around his shoulders. We both looked like we'd half drowned in the ocean. It was a wonder the doctor recognized us. We must have made quite an impression last week. Of course, then we'd been soaked with rain, so we probably looked similar now.
Doug tried to say something to the doctor but coughed instead. All the way from the beach, he hadn't said a word. Now he coughed, and coughed, and finally hacked out, "Zoey still doesn't remember much about that night. Is that normal?"
"Oh, sure," the doctor said. "When I was in junior high, I was break dancing on roller skates one afternoon and you can imagine how that ended. I fell and hit my head. At least, that's what my friends told me later. They also told me I'd been shopping for new leg warmers earlier in the day. All I remember is sitting up in the middle of the roller-skating rink, screaming, `Where are my leg warmers? These aren't my leg warmers!'"
Doug and I looked at each other. Doug raised one eyebrow.
"My memory of that afternoon never did come back," she said. "But twelve years later I graduated from medical school, so I must be okay."
"Y could have told me that before!" I wailed at her. "It would have made me feel a lot less crazy."
"I did tell you that before." She grabbed a file from the counter and disappeared through a door into an examining room.
Doug scrawled something across his last form, set a soaked insurance card on top of it, and handed it all to the nurse. I wheeled him back through the double doors into the empty white waiting room that was way too familiar to me. I positioned him by a seat where I wouldn't be staring at those doors again, and I sat down next to him.
"I guess you don't want to hear why," he said softly.
With my eyes on the gray specks in the white tile floor, I said, "I'm here, aren't I?"
Doug talked in a monotone, staring at the blank white wall opposite us. "That Monday night after I saw you here, I was so worried about you. I was afraid to call you because I didn't want to get my brother in trouble with your dad. I looked for you at the beach party. The next day I expected to hear this big hullabaloo at school. I thought the whole swim team would support you. I never heard a peep. But football and swimming dress out at the same time. I go in the locker room and there's Brandon Moore bragging about how he tapped your ass."
He held up his hands to shield his face like he thought I might slap him. When he saw I only glared at him, he slowly put his hands down.
"Brandon's words, not mine. Y have a reputation for not putting out, so I knew something was wrong with you. I knew exactly what you'd done. I know
ou that feeling. Y have to do something. Y have to change something radically, because you can't stay like you are for another second, or you're going to
ou ou explode."
He was talking about running away to Seattle. I felt for his hand inside the blanket. It was ice cold.
He sighed. "But Zoey, the problem is that when you feel that way, your brain has already shut down. So whatever you do next to change your situation, it's bound to be stupid." He shook his head. "I tried all week to get you to call me. I tried to talk to you at the football game and screwed that up. And then, at the party, Brandon started talking smack about you again--"
"And you are so much better than him," I said, "because the first words out of your mouth were, `I'll bet you I can seduce Zoey Commander in the next two hours.'"
He turned to me for the first time, green eyes pleading. "I was trying to get you away from him, but I honestly could not have predicted we would do it. Still, if you were going to do it with somebody, I wanted it to be with me, because you could trust me." He laughed bitterly. "If it hadn't been for the wreck and everything that came after, that wouldn't sound the least bit ironic. I guess you don't want to hear that I've had a crush on you since seventh grade." He brought our hands out from under the blanket. His hand had been so cold and so still, I'd forgotten I was holding it. Now he placed my hand palm-up on his thigh and traced his finger to the tip of my perfectly polished pointer finger. "Or that I thought about you when I went to juvie. That I probably never had a chance with you long-term anyway, but now I'd sealed the deal." He traced his finger to the heel of my hand. "Those are explanations, but not excuses. Juvie is fond of that distinction." He traced his finger to the tip of my thumb. "Or that I couldn't stand to watch anything bad happen to you, because it was like it was happening to me too. Is that love?" His hand clasped my hand again and squeezed.
I swallowed. "It could be."
He kissed my hand. "Anyway, we shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have let it go that far when I knew how vulnerable you were and I wasn't being completely honest with you. I realize that now, and I'm sorry." He squeezed my hand once more and let it go.
Suddenly the idea that this was the end of Doug and me seemed horribly wrong. No matter what path we'd followed to get here, now we sat side by side in the ER. Again. I whispered, "We shouldn't have done it so soon."
He kept staring at the opposite wall. But he went absolutely still. He'd stopped breathing.
Or was that me?
"I'd like to try again," I said. "Slower this time."
He turned to me. We shared a long look, and then he put his hand up to touch the corner of my mouth. I had the smallest lingering doubt that he was teasing me even now. And then he leaned forward to kiss me.
It was slow, all right, and very sexy, back to his thorough exploration of my mouth. In swim practice sometimes we took our pulses to see if we could keep our heart rates above a certain level for a long time. This kiss was as good training as any. While Doug was still in his cast, I would suggest we do this every day for his rehabilitation.
Someone bustled through the corridor. We kept kissing. Just as the double doors slid shut, the doctor called to us, "No PDA in the emergency room. I told you that before too."
I broke the kiss and blinked at Doug. "Did she?"
He nodded.
"Show me what we did."
He pulled my hands under his blanket. He was much warmer now. His lips found the most sensitive spot on my neck.
"I think a little of my memory of that night is coming back," I said, panting. "This seems so familiar. I remember being happy."
And that's when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse and looked at the screen blinking with the caller ID of the mental hospital, finally. I whispered, "My mom."
Probably it wasn't my mom. I couldn't get my hopes up. It was a psychiatrist calling to tell me my mom was worse, my mom was crazy, my mom was dead. The phone kept ringing. I took a deep breath and held it. Held on to this moment, not knowing who was calling or why.
Doug said, "Answer it or I will."
I exhaled and clicked the phone on. "Hello?"
"Zoey, are you okay?"
So she'd had another vision of my death. She was calling instead of visiting this time because hospital security had gotten wise to her. "I'm okay, Mom."
"I thought you were. What are you doing?"
My eyes wandered to Doug's lips. "I brought Doug Fox to the emergency room. He fell in the ocean and got his cast wet."
"Mmm-hmm," she said drily. "I know Doug Fox. I'll bet there's more to it than that." This was something she would normally say. This was something she would say if she were normal. But again, I didn't want to get my hopes up.
She went on, "Y father just called me all freaked out from the Los Angeles airport, coming back from Hawaii. He installed cameras at the house to
our watch you while he got married. In case this pseudoparenting scheme didn't contain you, his backup plan was to call his ex-wife in the insane asylum."
"Y eah," I acknowledged, "he was real keen on going, so I didn't point out this problem. I figured I could just stay out of trouble for a week. I almost made it."
"Mmm-hmm," she said again.
"But Mom, I swear, it didn't even cross my mind that I'd get in trouble for staying out late last night. I came home at exactly the same time I came home a couple of weeks ago, while Dad was still in town, and I didn't get in trouble then."
"Oh, you're not in trouble for coming in late." I could almost see her stroking her long blond hair away from her face with her manicured middle finger. "Y ou're in trouble for going into your dad's office."
"I needed something," I grumbled.
She sighed. "This is totally up to you, Zoey. But if you want me to, I'll get custody of you again just as soon as I can. Okay?"
"Okay." I wanted desperately to move back in with her if she was normal. If.
"Just be prepared," she said. "When you do come back to live with me, you are so grounded for calling me the chicken that crossed the road."
I burst into laughter so big and good it hurt.
"What is it?" Doug asked, green eyes wide. He thought I'd finally lost it.
Between giggles I told him, "My mother is feeling more herself."
*** FIVE FRIDAYS LATER, I DROVE ALONG the beachfront road in Doug's Jeep, which I'd borrowed until he got his cast off. It had plastic sheeting for windows so I couldn't leave valuables in it and lock it. It was like driving a small pool dome. And it was lots of fun to drive. Not just the wind in my hair but whole-body wind. In short, the Jeep was quirky and high maintenance but worth the trouble. Like Doug.
Mom minded because the wind messed up her hair, but she put up with it. I was driving her back to her apartment after an hour of house-hunting and an early dinner at the Grilled Mermaid. Soon I'd pick up Doug for the football game, and afterward we were going out with Lila, Mike, Keke, and Keke's football player boyfriend she met at the beach--the one who had been so curious about our pants. It was a beautiful, warm October afternoon without a hurricane in sight, and so much weight had lifted from me lately that I felt a little giddy. I couldn't wait for tonight. I was just turning onto the highway north toward town when blue lights flashed behind us.
"Did you run a stop sign?" Mom asked. "I mean, did you run the stop sign?"
I watched my rearview mirror until I recognized the policeman. "It's Cody. He's pulling me over to screw with me."
"Zoey!" Mom said in mock horror. "Can the language! Act sane or he'll drag us both back to the mental hospital. Good afternoon, Officer!" she sang past me through the opening that would be called a "window" in a normal car.
He nodded at her. "Counselor. I have orders from the chief to take you to the station. He needs to see you right away about that case. And Zoey, Doug wants you to meet him at the junkyard." He turned and sauntered toward his car.
"Oh, that case." Mom leaned over to kiss my forehead, then opened the passenger "door" and dropped to the ground in her wicked pumps we'd bought at the Destin mall last weekend. "Are you up for more house-hunting tomorrow afternoon?" she called back to me through the "window."
"Theoretically, but you'll have to drive. I'll bet this whole setup with Cody is an elaborate ploy for me to meet Doug and see him with his cast off. He was supposed to get it off this afternoon, depending on what the X-rays showed. And that means I'll give his Jeep back to him."
"Okay, then. I'll give you a call in the morning," she said without concern, as if she herself were part of the ploy. She walked along the shoulder, climbed into the passenger side of the police car, and applied more lipstick in Cody's rearview mirror. Y eah, I'd begun to have suspicions about her and the police chief. I would grill her about this tomorrow.
The country highway I'd driven down a million times looked like a postcard today with the trees turning yellow and red. In the flimsy Jeep I smelled asphalt and hay just as if I'd been walking along the shoulder. I negotiated the courthouse square in the center of town, turned off on another highway, and finally arrived at the junkyard. The Porsche had been moved in front of the office and released from its tarp to reveal the gaudy red sparkle paint in all its glory. As I parked, Doug got out of it and limped toward me across the sandy driveway with a big grin, without crutches.
"Look at you!" I exclaimed, springing from the Jeep to hug him.
He held out his bare leg for me to examine. "Look at me!"
"Does it walk okay?"
"It walks fine."
"More important, does it swim okay?"
"Coach is meeting me at the pool tomorrow morning to get me started."
"Wow, Coach is getting out of bed on Saturday morning? He must think a lot of your chances at a scholarship after all."
Doug gave me a smile and a small nod. Not like a diva. Like an athlete with confidence in his body.
"I want to come tomorrow morning," I said.
"I would love for you to come. Y want to swim?"
"Y eah, I'll swim." Doug had been encouraging me to train harder and try out for the FSU swim team with him. He'd worked with me the last few weeks, and I'd actually qualified to compete at State. I wasn't doomed to come in sixth after all. Who knew?