Julia, Ben and Lisa Ch. 19

Whatever shots they'd just given Julia must have been given to me as well. I went out for good this time.

Part 3: Monday

When I woke up my Mom and Dad were there. Mom was crying and leaned over to kiss me gently on the lips; Dad was holding my hand, squeezing lightly, just so I knew he was there. My head was overstuffed, fuzzy and useless. I heard myself groan, tried to roll to my side but found it hurt even more that way. Dad was telling me, "It's Monday, Ben. Been here since yesterday. We..." Then I was out again.

I woke. The doctor had come in and the three of them discussed my condition. Which seemed better, which didn't seem all that bad. The doc knew why, "loaded with pain-killers." I was still sleepy, was trying to tell them I was fine, but nothing much came out. But I could hear the doc. Six stitches on my forehead from the front door, twelve more for the back of my head where it met the mantel, concussed, with a deep contusion on my shoulder. I could feel a turban of bandages wrapping my head. I knew my hair, a lot of it, would be gone. But no breaks, no bones, no fractures or internal damage. I was scheduled to stay one more night for observation then it was home, rest, Tylenol and more rest. No school work, no hiking, no piano, no summer theatre. Rest. Mom and Dad had both already called in the week to be there for me.

Mom couldn't stop kissing me, and Dad did some of that too. She couldn't stop crying and I guess I was crying too. When finally I could speak, I asked, "Julia? Is she...?"

Mom started bawling all over again and said, "Oh honey, your cousin is here, just down the hall. She's fine, thank God...I mean..gonna be fine. A broken nose, but the doctor says it's going to heal up."

I blubbered out a request to see her, to go to her.

Dad said, "Can't now, Ben. The police, police detectives, are in with her. Docs gave them just 20 minutes with her, she's on a lot of meds too. I've got my lawyer in with her till Beth and Roger get back. They'll be getting off the plane now, be here in a few hours. Till then your mother and I will take good care of her too."

Dad paused and squeezed my hand again. He bent and kissed my forehead. "Thank God you were there to help, Ben. We're so proud of you, so proud, she was able to tell us most of ... " He stopped to wipe his eyes and said, "I can wheel her down here to see you once the detectives are done."

I tried asking about Mr. Anderson, afraid of what the answers might be. They both shushed me and told me later for that, maybe tonight. The police were wanting a statement from me as well.

They let me sleep then, a weird druggy sleep with a nightmare of Anderson's ugly face above mine, and the weight of him, like being buried alive. It seemed like I knew I was dreaming, like I was trying so hard to wake up. But I kept coming back to the picture of his face above me after Mr. Sanders had delivered that second blow.

But there was another dream too, not as much, but it was there, interweaved with the nightmare. Mr. Sanders, together with his Sadie, in their beautiful back yard. The two of them sharing tea and Angel cake. Her telling him how proud she was. Him telling her how much he loved her.

I couldn't tell if it went on for hours or for 10 minutes. Then Mom was squeezing my hand and calling to me. Now there was more pain, but it seemed like my head was working better. Julia was there in a wheelchair. Her face was a shock: tape and bandages everywhere, bloody plugs in her nostrils and two black eyes. The nurses wouldn't let her out of the chair, but let Dad wheel her in close to my side. She was holding my hand, kissed my hand and we were able to smile for one another. For a while we couldn't do more than smile, blubber, then smile and squeeze hands again, with a few "oh Ben"'s and "oh Julia"'s and a few "I know"'s thrown in.

Eventually we had to stop crying, or at least mostly stop. Julia was her own self and had to ask, "So how do you like my new look?"

I answered, "Beautiful...just amazingly beautiful," and then channeling her said, "...perhaps a little heavy on the eye-shadow is all." I could hear how it came out, "Po-po-hops liddle hovy eye-shadder," but she got it and grinned for me.

"Hmmm...sounds like good advice, I don't want these handsome doctors to think..."

But by then I'd started crying again.

Mom bent in to tell me that the doctor had already been inside Julia's nose to realign the bones, and Julia added that she'd have some kind of bump there when the bandages came off in two weeks.

"Will give my face some character at last. I always thought it was too bland."

"Yawh, rachht." Everything like slow motion, or like I was underwater.

"Can tell everyone, like for real, 'shoulda seen the other guy.'"

Dad said, "Atta girl, that's the spirit."

Julia turned and looked at my Mom. She choked up and said, "But it wasn't me at all, was it Auntie? You know that, don't you? Not me." Mom was shushing her softly, holding her hand.

Julia doesn't stay shushed however. "Not me. Oh-my-God, my men. My men did it. My Ben most of all. He was so brave Auntie, so amazing, like from a movie, for real, like ...I don't know...like some crazy warrior going after him. He wouldn't stop. If he hadn't been there..." I heard her and blushed and blubbered, again.

She stopped briefly for all of us to have a good cry, then went on with a smile, "Then my man Bobo comes running in and attacks. Got him sooo good, too. God bless my Bobo! And, and oh-my-God!, then Mr. Sanders comes in and tees off on the asshol...'scuse me...on the creep's head.The image of him swinging that club? I...I just can't get over that. I thought he killed him, really thought that."

"No such luck," said Dad. But I'd been thinking about that too. If that second shot had hit Anderson square on the back of his head, I think it would have killed him. Wondering if it was meant to. Wondering too, if he'd been off by another two inches, what it would have done to my head.

Two detectives came in then but barely got underway with us when Aunt Beth and Uncle Roger came screaming into the room in Bahamas vacation clothing. Right off the plane apparently. Bright pastels and palm trees. Him with a shell necklace. Her with dreadlocked hair and a wide-brim straw hat. Aliens. It hurt to look at them, physically hurt. And I could see Mr. Sanders too, holding back shyly by the door. It was getting pretty crowded.

My Aunt and Uncle showered first Julia and then me with careful hugs and kisses, and naturally everyone had to cry again. This took a while.

The main detective guy finally got a chance to talk to us, everyone else pushed back against the wall. He asked that the four parents leave, just keeping me, Julia and Mr. Sanders, but when Uncle Roger said, "No fuckin' way am I leaving," he sighed and got down to business.

He took our stories, and we told them about as honestly and clearly as we could. Or I guess semi-honestly. Julia talked the most since her head seemed clear, but I was able to add a little myself. He didn't really ask too many questions, just wrote down what we said and nodded a lot.

Mr. Anderson was in police custody, being treated at the county hospital. He would be charged with two counts of assault with intent to kill, a single count of home invasion, and a count of animal abuse.The detectives had all the evidence they needed. The state of the house, the deep purple bruises on Julia's throat and the gashes on my head. But we'd probably need to testify as well. Weirdly, Anderson was also facing a charge of resisting arrest. Beats me how the creep resisted in the condition I'd seen him. He would be in court for arraignment as soon as the hospital gave medical clearance. The DA would recommend no bail. He would not be out on the street for, they thought, a very long time.

The one awkward part was when he asked if we knew anything about a theft. Why was Anderson saying that Julia had stolen something valuable from him? Did Julia know what he was talking about? Did I? No, we did not. I tried shaking my head "No" but found that was a bad idea. I was better of just mumbling. Julia said, Yes, he'd said something like that to us when he broke in. But we had no idea. She had nothing of his. We had nothing of his. Guy was just nuts. Really nuts.

The detective nodded without comment and added, "Weird thing is he won't say what it is he thinks you stole. Which means it's something bad, something he's covering up." But then he smiled at us and said, "Or, like you both say, maybe he's just nuts. We'll leave that one to the hospital folks." He wished us both a speedy recovery, took a little information from our parents, gave them his card and left.

Once the detective was gone Julia's parents pushed Mr. Sanders forward. He was shy, stammering and kissed both our heads gently as we blubbered out thanks and love. It turned out he hadn't bought Julia's fib about Anderson not bothering her. Said he knew too much about Anderson to think Julia's questions had come coincidentally. Smart old bird, eh? I think that's what made him most proud. He'd figured it out, cake or no cake. He'd been watching the house for the last week, had seen all the comings and goings of Julia, of Ben and of Lisa too... "and thank God she wasn't present for all this mess..."

Did he wink at me then? It might just have been his eyesight. Or a tic. Some nervous tic.

Apparently his eyes were good enough. From his front window he saw Anderson walk up the pathway, and when he saw the door open violently and a body (mine) fall to the floor he knew just what to do. Mr. Sanders walked across the street into the open garage where he found Bobo whining and barking and clawing at the door. He let Bobo in. He realized he should have brought some sort of weapon. Looking around he found the clubs I'd used that day, Wynn's clubs, nice ones, clubs with which I'd scored a spectacular victory over my cousin (not to brag). He pulled out the driver and took a practice swing in the garage. The rest was history.

We started to settle down. Julia and I were still hand in hand and wanted to be together. But Mom wanted me to rest and Uncle was wanting to wheel Julia back to her own room.

Even with Julia's warm hand in mine, even when the detectives were there, even when we were all crying, it had been on my mind. The whole time. I'd been waiting for it all day but couldn't say a word about it: Angela. And now Angela came screaming into the room already crying, wormed through the crowd and flung herself down on me saying, "Oh Ben...Oh Ben...Oh my sweet..." Dramatic. Girl oughta be in show biz, could be my Juliet. Lovely, and meant well. Unfortunately when she flung herself she landed right on my bad shoulder and the pain shot up inside me like zombie venom. I sat up howling and Angela oh-my-God'ed and backed up quick, right into Julia's wheelchair, kicking my cousin hard in the leg.

Julia squealed. Angela turned to apologize and the two former world class stare-competitors stood staring again at one other. Like a rematch of heavyweights. A battle of the titans. The only thing missing was my red-hot, erect dick. Henry, now quite the gentleman, sat quietly as his two women stared.

For a second or two Angela didn't know who it was. You could tell. Julia looks different in a less than flattering johnny, seated in a wheelchair, with a bandage over half her face and raccoon eyes. Angela too looked pretty different, all sunburned raw with wild tangled greasy hair. Also not nude like the last time. But perfect. Julia recognized her first, smiled at her. Angela blinked, started and blinked again. And then she knew. Angela smiled and a laugh bubbled out of her, "Oh-my-God it's you!"

Julia came right back: "Oh-my-God it's you! Pleased to make your acquaintance." She was smiling through the bandages. Angela burst out laughing. They both loved it. Angela bent down to kiss Julia's cheek and the two girls giggled it out while I recovered from the zombie bite. Then Angela turned to throw herself again at me.

Mom had her arm out in time and held the girl back. Mom, like me, had known Angela and her family since I was in 3rd grade. But now she was confused about all of this you-ing and kissing and giggling and body throwing.

Mom said, "Angela, but why? I mean..welcome, of course you're welcome, but...right now is not the best time..."

Angela looked at her steadily, looked at her whole, and said, "Cause I'm the girlfriend."

Julia said, "I can vouch for that. She is most definitely the girlfriend." Her hand left mine as Uncle Ed began to back her from the room. She blew me a kiss and I returned it. She was humming that Pharell song - she knew I'd get it. It was a nice touch.

Mom wore the happiest smile of the day and slunk back into Dad's arms saying, "...oh Ed!...it's his girl." And it was, but maybe it was both girls not just the one, and right then Angela found the space to move to me, gently this time, oh so gently, for a soft, tender and lovely kiss on my lips, the kind of kiss I'd been dreaming of for so long, and that's when I knew I'd be OK.