Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
18 Weeks of Twoey - 31. Week Five Wednesday October 1, 2014: Meeting Dad
“I don't think he's died yet, or we'd have heard.”
Gary agreed, as we ran, and added, “We gotta find out! He was really part of our gang too. We gotta find out. Somebody's gotta know!”
“Well, Twoey's mom's gotta know ...but I'm sure she's like living at the hospital. Maybe we should go by her house on our way home after practice tonight to see if her car's there. She has to be able to tell us more than we know now!” We both agreed.
Tommy looked surprised when I ate cereal with my banana. “The nurse tells me I'm losing weight.”
“Duh ...I could have told you. The nurse? You sick or somethin’? ”
“Don't tell your mother, but I fainted in gym yesterday.”
His eyes bugged. “What happened?”
“I fainted.”
“No shit! But why?”
“I haven’t really eaten much since ...ya know.”
His eyes narrowed. “I'm gonna be watchin’ how you eat like a hawk!”
“I'm not gonna eat like a hawk!” He smiled and gave me a soft punch on the shoulder. Poor Tommy, he’s always worried about me and now I gave him another thing to put on his list. He’ll be needing the shrink pretty soon.
Before math, I spoke with Kathy. “We are still going to the dance, even though it's gonna be a little sad. We need something to refocus on, it’ll lift our spirits. We need to move on.”
She placed her hand on mine and nodded in agreement. But when I sat down next to the empty seat my spirits crashed again.
In the hallway, on my way to lunch, I overheard a couple guys talking about the ‘accident’ that killed Danny and his father. The cover-up story must have been released. I haven’t seen the actual story yet. I wonder how they accounted for Twoey, or maybe they left him out completely. His injury doesn’t really need to be related to the McCanes’ deaths. The only hole in their logic is Twoey himself, if he survives. Maybe I’ll have to start reading the local rag. It’s only four pages long anyway ...hehe.
At lunch I ate a whole piece of pizza, an apple and an orange. I hope it's all digested before practice. I don't wanna puke again. The table seemed to notice I was eating, but only Matty and Erik knew why.
A strange thing happened today in social. That is, stranger than the usual strange things in social. Burch, in his wanderings, passed by my desk four times. It might have been his personal best. The strange thing was I believe he wanted to say something to me. I could see him sort of draw a breath, and then think better of it.
I was bracing for some snide comment about the tragedy. In reality, I was sizing up where I could punch him to cause the greatest pain. Maybe he read my mind. Nah ...if he could read my mind, he’d have been out of the room in two seconds. Your time is coming bastard! Make sure your health insurance is paid up.
Later, during PhysEd, Matty explained my fainting a little better. “Sometimes I faint during wrestling season when I'm trying to make weight in a lower class. I’ll skip eating for a couple of days. It's why I already had an idea what was going on. I've notice you getting thinner, David. Are you trying? Cuz you actually looked sexier before!”
He made me blush. What a little joker Matty is. Oh well, he just gave me another reason to not join the wrestling team. I can’t even imagine competing in a sport where fainting is part of the game plan!
Thank You Hermes! I made it through the entire practice without puking. After practice, Gary and I walked by Twoey's house but ...no car. She's probably still at the hospital.
Dinner was almost edible. Aside from the mystery meat, which I avoided altogether, there was a baked potato and corn with peas. They were sorta okay. It’s hard to overcook corn; it never dissolves. I wonder where I could learn to cook. I know I could take the same ingredients and make something people could eat, especially me. Even the bread is disgusting. I have nothing against bread, but the stuff she buys tastes like chemicals and it mushes into a glob if you squeeze it. Bread isn't supposed to be like that! I remember eating at Sam's once when his mother had this wonderful rye bread with a crusty outside and a chewy inside. It tasted amazing, not like chemicals. I should ask him about it.
I wonder if Sam knows how to cook?
I know he rolls professional looking joints, not that I’ve ever tried any. Not that he ever stops offering me ...hehe. I'll have to ask him when we're alone sometime.
I was finishing my homework at about 8:30 when I thought perhaps Twoey's mom might be home by now. I threw on a jacket and headed over to check. At first I was gonna stop to see if Gary would join me, but decided against it. She and I have another connection now. Maybe it would help if it was me alone.
I could see her car and there were lights on downstairs. I went to the door and rang the bell. I could hear someone coming and when the door opened, it was a man! I didn't know what to say or do.
“Um... is Mrs. Messer here?”
“Who are you and what do you want?” He almost snarled at me.
“I'm David Megal.” Thinking he might have been Twoey's father, I continued. “I'm a neighbor.”
I heard her voice asking who it was.
He yelled, “Some David kid. I'll get rid of him!”
He frowned back down at me but she called out, “No, have him come in!”
He backed up and barked, “Well, come on!”
He led me into the kitchen where they were in the process of eating.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.” Turning, I started to leave.
She called me back. “No, it’s alright David.”
I turned around again to face her. “It's Twoey.” I started quietly trying to hold in the tears. “No one will tell us how he's doing. Is he going to ...live?” My voice caught on the last word and I was about to lose it. She got up and came over to hug me tightly and ...I did lose it, sobbing into her shoulder.
She said, “Honey, they don't know yet if he’s going to make it. It’s touch and go. The doctors say his internal jugular had shown no signs of blood flow due to compression from the bullet.”
She added more details, but everything she told me was in a different language! It sure didn’t sound too good though. I guess they performed surgery to fix whatever that thing was, but he had too much blood loss. He’s still unconscious! I can’t believe it ...it’s been days! Obviously, he's still in the ICU. I heard the man grumbling something about girly in the background, but I ignored the fucker.
She pushed my body back, looking me over. “David, what's happened to you? You look terrible! Emaciated! Are you eating?”
“Not much.” I wasn’t gonna tell her I fainted, especially with fuck-face sitting right there.
“Come, sit and eat with us. There’s plenty.”
“No, I have to get home.” No way was I going to sit with the fucking asshole who met me at the door.
“Um ...is it OK to stop by every so often to check on his condition?”
“Around 8:30 is a good time because I’m usually back from the hospital by then.”
“Thanks Mrs. Messer.”
I left.
So the asshole was going to get rid of me? To him I’m a dirty old napkin you throw away?
I stormed home.
Later, when she called, I told Kathy about Twoey’s condition. I only said they don’t know yet if he’ll make it. I didn’t wanna blow the cover story. I asked her to call Lanni and let her know. I'll tell the guys tomorrow at the funeral.
The funeral.
I hate the word funeral.
It’s too fucking final!
Twoey
Where's my Danny? So much emptiness...
- 26
- 5
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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