Chapter 63: Visiting Hours
Alison drove me home after school so we could tell Mom where we were going. I wasn't sure how my mother would react to my friend's need to visit Suzanne but was surprised when she smiled.
"That's a lovely idea," Mom said. "I'm sure she could use the company."
I wanted to ask my mother if she had any news about the creature, but she was already occupied. By Alison's new car.
A Mustang convertible, no less. Mom's favorite. Alison was given a shiny red car for her birthday and I had a visit from a creature that wanted to kill everyone.
Sounds fair.
I tapped my foot as they compared vehicles for what seemed like hours but really only amounted to about ten minutes. I finally sighed heavily to get their attention as Mom explored the dash from the driver's seat.
"We should get going," I said.
Mom gave me a soft kiss on the cheek on the way by and I knew she was laughing at me. I just knew it.
"I've said it before," Alison told me as she pulled out of my driveway and peeled off, "but you have the coolest mom ever."
No comment.
I quickly claimed Alison's cell phone and locked it away in the glove compartment. Not like she had many people to text these days but I survived a near-death experience with her the week before involving her pink addiction and refused to drive with her anymore if she didn't give it up.
Somehow, I won that battle. The radio on the other hand, I backed away from for fear of losing a hand.
I was surprised when she turned it off and drove in silence for a few minutes. She was making me uncomfortable, so much so I squirmed in the soft leather seat and wished I could trust her with the phone back just to break the quiet.
She finally did. "Thanks for this," she said, quavering and low. And cleared her throat. When she spoke again, her voice sounded more normal. "I really appreciate it."
"I know," I said.
"As much as you hate her, I have better memories." She shot me a genuine smile. "We were in Girl Scouts together. I talked her through her first broken heart. Was her friend when she had braces." Alison sighed. "Then the bitch took over and... well. You know the rest."
I wasn't sure to which bitch she referred, but since Alison was reformed and Suzanne was current I figured I'd leave it at both.
The drive was pretty short and flew by after that as Alison's fingers found the dial and her favorite pop band belted the latest hit. Don't get me wrong, I like pop music. Just not at a decibel level high enough to shake apart a house. Guess I'm a loser, but I like my hearing.
Lucky for me we pulled into the parking lot only a few minutes later. The sudden silence when she shut off the key was almost worse than the songs themselves. I shook the ringing from my ears, working my jaw against the numbness and followed Alison through the front doors.
Wilding Springs General was like any other small hospital I'd ever seen. Not that I'd seen many, mind you. Most injuries to the family stayed in the family. But I'd had an occasion or two to visit, usually on school field trips or forced to when injured playing soccer before Mom could come get me. I was slightly disappointed when I realized I'd forgotten all about pre-season. And, worse, Coach Matters didn't call to remind me. Not that I blamed him. The last game I'd played was a disaster, thanks to the influence of the family and one Jared Runnel, real name Galleytrot, a black dog of the Wild Hunt hired by the Moromonds to bring down my mother.
Soccer was out for me this year. And maybe every year. Sucked.
I had more important things to think about, like keeping up with Alison. She was already at the front desk, asking the pretty girl in the pink and white striped apron for Suzanne's room number.
Stripes looked it up and smiled the answer past glasses and braces.
"321. Ward Three."
Alison was on the move before the girl could hand her the paper she wrote it on. I took it with an apologetic smile and hurried after my friend.
The place stank of disinfectant and sick people. I hated hospitals. There were spirits hanging behind, and old malignant emotions left over as well as pools of grief and loneliness. I shuddered as I walked through one such hovering mass, my flesh crawling from the touch of emotional residue. Alison barreled ahead without me and I had to struggle to keep up.
I finally caught her at the entrance to the ward, but not because I was faster. She stood at a dead halt, her face pale. And when I reached for her hand I felt her trembling.
"I can't," she whispered.
I flinched from a floating patch of pain and squeezed her fingers.
"Yes," I said. "You can. Let's go."
She smiled at me, lashes wet with tears, and allowed me to lead her into the ward.
Inside was worse for me. Not only was there phantom emotion, it was fed by the real thing. As quiet as the place was, it screamed inside my head. To witches, hospitals are horribly unnatural. Taking care of injuries, illness and even death is our responsibility to each other, not that of strangers in cold and lifeless rooms. Every hospital I'd been in felt the same.
Like limbo.
We were stopped by an older nurse in blue scrubs. "What room?"
"321," Alison said.
Her eyes tightened and I could feel the sympathy rolling from her. "Down the hall on the left," she said and went back to her chart.
I for one didn't need her direction. Now that I was closer, I could feel Suzanne. She had a distinctive touch to her, the flavor of the creature, and it drew me to her. I let it.
I kept my eyes forward, recoiling slightly from the waves of sickness pouring out at me from the other rooms. I was the one almost running by the time we reached Suzanne's. I paused one moment beside the heavy, green door. I needed a second to gather myself. Alison squeezed my fingers as if she understood, but for the wrong reason.
Together, we went inside.
At first I didn't look at her, focusing instead on the big window in Suzanne's private room, the thin curtain's color matching the green of the door, hanging on wheels on a track. It was pulled aside, leaving the hospital bed exposed, two chairs empty on one side and another occupied on the other.
I turned on the woman who sat next to the bed, still not wanting to look at the damaged cheerleader, terrified I would see the creature in her.
"Mrs. Collins," Alison said softly. The woman turned, her tear-stained face suddenly smiling as she scrambled to her feet.
"Alison, dear!" Mrs. Collins surged forward and hugged her, a wad of mascara stained tissue pressed in one hand, her designer jacket pulling tight across her shoulders. "I'm so happy to see you!"
Alison gently detached herself and forced her own smile. "You too. This is Sydlynn Hayle," she gestured at me. "A friend from school. Syd, this is Margaret Collins."
"Nice to meet you," I mumbled.
Mrs. Collins beamed, her perfect hair shuddering as she hugged me, too. I let her. Not like she gave me a choice. She smelled like honeysuckle and sickness.
"So nice to have Suzie's friends come to visit." Her face crumpled a bit, her careful makeup a mess. She looked so much like her daughter, or the other way around, I wondered how much work she had done. She raised one trembling hand to her mouth, dabbing with the tissue over and over again. "So nice."
Alison guided Mrs. Collins back into her seat and as she did, I finally looked at Suzanne.
Happy surprise. No creature stared back. Just the sunken and skeletal form of the cheerleader who did her best to make my life miserable. Suddenly, I didn't feel so angry about that anymore. She'd paid her debt in full.
Why was I all of a sudden feeling like I owed her one?
We took the two empty seats as Mrs. Collins spoke.
"Bradley was here this morning." Her tight and false smile was back, like it was the only thing holding her together. "Poor dear wasn't feeling well. But he stayed long enough to see Suzie."
"He told me," Alison said brightly and I wondered how she could do that. Just training, I guess. "I wanted to come sooner but we all thought it would be better if she got some rest first."
As much of a bitch as Alison had been and could still be at times, I wanted to hug her for being so generous and kind. She just gave Mrs. Collins the reason she needed to believe Suzanne's other so-called friends hadn't abandoned her.
The woman's smile seemed suddenly less brittle and more natural.
Sheesh. I needed to take notes.
"How is she?" Alison's hand strayed close to Suzanne's, fingertips brushing over the girl's pale skin. I saw so much tenderness in her face it made me jealous. I shoved it down while my demon roared at me to do something about it.
"Better." We all knew it was a lie. "The doctors say she's stable."
"That's good to hear," Alison said. "We were really worried about her after what happened."
"You were there?" Mrs. Collins pounced on the information like we'd thrown her a lifeline.
Alison nodded while I shifted in my seat in growing discomfort. This would not end well. I think Alison sensed it too because she backpedaled a little.
"I didn't see everything," she said suddenly. "But Syd did. Didn't you, Syd?"
Oh. My. Freaking. Swearword. She didn't just hang me out to dry, did she?
But now Mrs. Collins looked at me with great expectation and desperate hope on her face and I couldn't keep my mouth shut.
"Yes," I said.
Tears welled in her bloodshot eyes. "Please," she said, her hand reaching for mine across Suzanne's legs. "Please tell me. No one will tell me anything." She sobbed once, the tissues making another trip to her face. "I knew she shouldn't go to that party. But she insisted and I can't refuse my baby anything." Another gasping cry escaped her.
This was a very bad idea. But what else could I do?
"I think someone drugged her," I lied. "Or she had an allergic reaction or something.
Because she sort of... freaked out." There wasn't a nice way to say it. At least, I couldn't come up with one. Alison obviously thought differently. Her foot impacted my leg hard while Mrs. Collins' face crumpled.
"I think what Syd is trying to say," Alison said, "is something horrible happened to Suzanne and she was hurt."
My eyes flickered to the white bandage on Suzanne's arm.
"The doctors," Mrs. Collins choked a moment before plunging on, "they said she tried to... to..." Tears ran freely. "To kill herself."
This one I could handle.
"No, ma'am," I said firmly. "She definitely didn't." The truth was easy. And Mrs. Collins knew it.
Alison's hand found mine out of sight and I knew I'd said the right thing. Mrs. Collins seemed to deflate for a moment before she straightened and smiled at me, the first real smile I'd seen from her, without any hint of anything but pure gratitude.
"I'm going to get a coffee," she said, fumbling for her purse. "Give you girls a chance to talk. If she wakes up." She stroked Suzanne's sunken cheek with her fingertips, sliding them through her long, dark hair, stringy from lack of washing. "She does, sometimes. If I miss it, tell her... tell her Mommy loves her."
Mrs. Collins left with a whisper of wool and the tap of her high heels on the industrial tile, taking her grief with her.
I breathed a soft sigh of relief and punched Alison in the arm. "Thanks a whole hell of a lot!"
She grimaced and rubbed her arm. "I deserved that."
"Damned right. Sheesh, Al. Nice of you to sic her on me."
"You were great." She turned away, eyes back on Suzanne. "Thanks, Syd."
I grumbled a moment before letting it go.
Good thing, too. Because Suzanne chose that moment to wake up.
***
