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I cry a lot, fall asleep, wake up, cry some more.
Haven't cried for an hour. Maybe I'm all dried up, no more tears.
Hey, Doc, put some tears in the IV.
I spit on the floor. If I could empty my mind the way the orderlies empty my trash can. Out with all the garbage.
When I'm alone I think of her. Even though it hurts. I want to hurt.
Being alone is what I'm used to; I don't get enough of it. With all the doctors and interns and the nurses, sometimes I can't stand all the noise and the sympathy; want to punch all of them.
Not Sam. He comes every morning, brings me candy and magazines, pats my hand and talks about how we're two peas in a pod, tough, survivors. How he won't let anyone “mess” with me- don't worry, he's got co
Petra brings me books. She's very pretty, not married, not a mom, and I think maybe she likes me because it gives her mom practice. Or it's a vacation from being a detective.
She killed him. She's a serious person, doesn't tell jokes, doesn't try to cheer me up when I don't want it. Even when she smiles, she's serious.
Even if I'm totally exhausted, I can't be anything but nice to her.
She's about Mom's age- why'd Mom have to take that idiot Moron in, let him run her life, let him put a split in our family?
Why couldn't Mom learn to be alone?
Dr. Delaware said it was probably an accident, he pushed her and she fell, but that doesn't make her any more alive.
I keep thinking: If I'd been there, I could've saved her.
Dr. Delaware talked to me about guilt, how it was normal but it would pass. How it was the parents' job to take care of children, not the other way around. He said Mom did love me, she meant well, but she'd hit some bad luck. He also said that what happened to her was terrible- no way would he try to tell me everything was okay, because it wasn't.
He was certain, though, that Mom would be proud of how well I'd done on my own.
Maybe.
He considers me very “impressive.”
At first I thought he was full of it, the way he'd just sit, not saying much. At first I thought he didn't care. Now I think he probably does. He shows up every day at 6:00 P.M., stays with me for two hours, sometimes more, doesn't mind if we don't do anything.
Before he left, he noticed the chessboard that Sam left and asked if I wanted to play. He's about as good as Sam, and I beat him two out of three. He said, “Okay, next time,” and I said, “Prepare to lose.” He laughed and I asked him who's paying him to play games and he said the police, don't worry, he'd collect, he always does.
Sometimes he tells jokes. Some of them are fu
He and Petra would make a good couple.
I can imagine the two of them in a nice house, a good car, some kids, a dog. Or even one kid, so he could get all their attention.
Nice happy family, taking trips, going to restaurants.
Maybe it happens. I don't know. I'll never stop thinking about Mom- the door's opening and for a moment I think it's her.
It's Petra and she's wearing a red suit.
That's different, she always wears black. She's carrying a bag, and she gives it to me.
Inside is a book.
The presidents book. Not the one from the library. A brand-new one- clean cover, crisp white pages. It has that new-book smell. The colors in the illustrations are very bright. This is very cool.
“Thanks,” I say. “Thanks a lot.”
She shrugs. “Enjoy. Who knows, Billy, someday you might be in there.”
“Yeah, right.” It's a crazy idea. But an interesting one.
Jonathan Kellerman
Jonathan Kellerman is one of the world's most popular authors. He has brought his expertise as a child psychologist to numerous bestselling tales of suspense (which have been translated into two dozen languages), including thirteen previous Alex Delaware novels; The Butcher's Theater, a story of serial killing in Jerusalem; and Billy Straight, featuring Hollywood homicide detective Petra Co