The Year I Stopped Being Invisible - 5. Chapter 5

Panic.

Screams.

Blood. So much blood...

The truck had t-boned us as it came roaring through a red light. I saw Taine's head strike the windshield and then we were spinning, around and around. I held on for dear life, feeling my seatbelt threatening to cut me in half diagonally. The Mercedes finally came to a stop in the middle of the intersection.

"Oops," said Taine's father dazedly.

He was wincing and holding his chest. Mr. Maxwell had been slammed into the steering column, and cars didn't have airbags in those days. Had it not been for his seatbelt, the steering column might have impaled him.

The windshield was spider-webbed, centering on the spot where Taine had struck it with his head. There didn't appear to be any blood, and for the first time I thanked the Lord that Taine was wearing that oversized cap.

Still, he looked woozy, his head hanging forward in his seat and a thin line of drool dangling from his open lips.

Mr. Maxwell checked Taine, gently stroking his son's shoulder until he responded.

"I'm okay," Taine said softly, letting the string of spit fall from his mouth. He didn't seem okay to me.

"We're going to have to get you to a hospital and get you checked out," Mr. Maxwell said tenderly. He glanced back at me, checking for damage. "You okay, Ricky?"

"Yes, sir," I said absently, concerned for Taine more than anything else.

When Taine corrected his father's use of my name again, I knew he was fine. So did Mr. Maxwell, and our attentions turned to the carnage outside.

The truck had sailed past the intersection and ended up on the median strip of the street which crossed the one we were on. There was smoke coming from the front, and a gaping hole in the windshield. Bystanders were already crowding around the truck trying to help whoever was inside.

And there was blood.

So much blood.

Mr. Maxwell slowly got out of the car, woozily instructing us to help him move it out of the intersection. We did as we were told, all three of us in various stages of shock and disbelief, and by the time we got it moved, the police and two ambulances had arrived.

What I saw next stayed with me for the rest of my life.

A boy, not more than nine or ten years old, his shirt and khaki pants covered with blood. Pieces of flesh were hanging from his face in thin, ragged strips. Underneath was what looked like red hamburger meat.

The bloody child was screaming and trying to bite the police officer on the leg as he questioned an obese, obviously intoxicated woman whom I took to be the boy's mother.

"He thinks the cop is attacking her," I said, to no one in particular, and lost consciousness.

* * * * *

I awoke in the hospital, not knowing what time it was or how I got there.

A glance at a wall clock answered the first question. It was 11:30 pm.

Had I really been out for almost seven hours?

Tynah, my adopted mother, was sitting by my bedside. Her eyes were puffy and red. She had been crying. When she saw my eyes open, she rushed to my side, stroking my hair. In a shrill, somewhat panicky voice, she called out toward the door.

"Nurse! Nurse! Rex, he's awake!"

A nurse rushed in to check me out, followed by Rex, who looked sober and serious.

"How ya doin', Whod?" he asked, using his pet name for me, which rhymed with "food," as in "whodunit?"

I tried to smile, but was completely disoriented.

"I'm okay," I rasped. I was dehydrated, and Tynah got me a paper cup of water to drink. I took it gratefully and sucked it down.

"Drink slow, honey," she advised, refilling the cup and handing it back to me.

I downed it and set it on the white plastic tray-table attached to my bed. Suddenly, a look of fear crossed my face.

Tynah noticed and asked, "What is it, honey?"

"Where's Taine?" I asked.

She didn't register my question for a moment, then Rex answered for her.

"His dad took him home," he said. "He had a little lump on his noggin, but nothing too bad. They're going to be okay, but their car is shot."

"What about the boy?" I asked. "What happened to the boy?"

Tynah and Rex exchanged a serious look, then Tynah turned back to me and said, "We can talk about that later, honey. Just rest for now. The doctor will be here soon."

Suddenly I felt all sleepy again, and felt myself drifting away.

I began to dream...

* * * * *

In the dream, Taine and I lay side by side, holding each other in some sort of cushioned box. We had soft white pillows, and the walls of the box, which surrounded us pretty tightly on all sides, were covered with a white, satiny material over fluffy soft padding. I realized that we were nude, and Taine's body felt warm and comforting next to mine as we held each other and looked deeply into each other's eyes. It was light inside the box, and I could finally see all of Taine's beautiful, pale and slender body as he held me and we stroked each other's soft, silky hair. I felt safe and secure, happier than I had ever been to be in his arms, holding and being held by him, snuggling in the comforting, womb-like enclosure.

"I love you, Taine," I whispered to him.

Taine looked serious and earnest as he spoke softly to me.

"I love you too, Rick. We can be together forever now. We can be here for each other always and forever."

I leaned closer to him to kiss his sweet, inviting lips, but before I could reach him, the light began to slowly dim in the box, which I realized was a coffin.

A chill wind began to blow over us, raising gooseflesh all over my young, hairless body as the light faded completely away.

"How do you know?" I whispered, and my own voice sounded hollow in my ears.

It was totally dark in the coffin now.

I heard Taine's breathing grow deeper, grating and wet, and his voice echoed strangely, chilling my blood.

"Because I'm dead!" he suddenly wailed.

I panicked as I felt his arms turn cold, his grip on me tightening and pulling me closer in the inky blackness.

I knew it wasn't Taine anymore, but some malevolent thing from beyond the grave, and it wanted to have me in its clutches for eternity.

I tried to move, to escape the thing's arms, but couldn't.

I opened my mouth to scream, but nothing came out and I could feel hot breath on my neck...

* * * * *

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed, sitting bolt upright and shaking, covered with clammy sweat.

I was back in my bed at home, the moonglow from my open window lighting my darkened room. I shivered, daring to flick my arm out quickly from under my quilt to turn on my bedside lamp.

It was 5:15 a.m., I realized from the alarm clock on my nightstand. Rex would be awake, sitting at the kitchen table as always, doing the morning crossword puzzle. I bolted from my bed, eager to escape the lingering effects of my nightmare and still wondering what had actually happened the night before.

Donning a robe, I padded silently down the hall to avoid waking Tynah, who usually slept in until around 6:30 before getting ready for work. I walked through the living room, being careful to avoid the large brass table which Rex had acquired in Barcelona, Spain and which -- as I learned sneaking in the doggie door late one night -- sounded like a giant gong if you hit it the wrong way.

I looked out the sliding glass door onto the patio, seeing our fox terrier (unimaginatively named Foxy by Tynah) lapping at his water bowl. Upon seeing me, Foxy bounded through the doggie door and presented himself for petting. I ruffled the soft orange fur between his ears, and he licked my hand happily. I noticed that I was still wearing a green plastic hospital bracelet and yanked it off, depositing it into the plastic trashcan as I strolled into the kitchen with Foxy following close behind.

Rex had his glasses on, and sat at the kitchen table working his crossword puzzle. The clock-radio softly played a country music station next to him, and he looked up at me briefly as I entered, pouring myself a cup of coffee and joining him at the table. Rex had a cup of coffee too, but I could smell that it was mostly full of bourbon.

"How'd you sleep," he asked absently, turning his attention back to the puzzle.

"I had weird dreams," I said, blowing on my coffee to cool it a bit before sipping loudly. "What the hell happened last night, Rex?"

"Some drunken bitch sent you to the hospital," he responded, with his usual candor. "She'd been tooting it up at the country club and didn't even think that she was driving with a kid in the car, and with no fucking seatbelt on to boot. Went sailing through the red light, the kid went through the windshield, and that's about the size of it."

"Is the boy...Rex, is he dead?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Rex looked up at me, removed his glasses and set them on the table along with his pen. He always did the crossword in pen, which I found strangely impressive. He leaned back and looked at me with concern.

"No," he said after a moment. "He's not dead, but he's going to wish he was. The doctor told me he needed 92 stitches in face, and he's going to have heavy scars for the rest of his life. CPS is getting involved, too, so he'll probably lose his mother as well."

"He's going to go to a foster home?" I asked.

"Yup," Rex replied, growling angrily. "And he's going to be a hell of a lot better off in the long run."

I asked about how I got home, but he had already put his glasses back on and returned to his puzzle. I knew I wasn't going to get much more conversation out of him that morning, so I sipped the rest of my coffee in silence.

I considered the night's events, my dream, and Taine Maxwell as a song by Anne Murray played on the radio.

When I was young, my heart was young, then too

And anything that it would tell me, that's the thing that I would do

But now I feel such emptiness within

For the thing that I want most in life's the thing that I can't win

I got up from the table, rinsed my coffee cup, and headed to the bathroom to take a shower before getting ready for school. When I had dressed, I came back into the kitchen and found a crisp five-dollar bill on the table. I pocketed it, still not used to having money every day, and left for the school bus.