Page 51 of Paging Dr. Hart
Shelly continues, “I heard his dad is in the mob. They call him Johnny the Shark or something crazy like that. Anyway, Stewart works in the technology department. He’s pretty high up there.”
“What does the technology department do?” I wave to some of the other show girls on the street as we walk past. We know them all now.
“I wasn’t sure either, but a guy I was talking to works security at Luxor. He told me Stewart’s in charge of the computers, like the ones that do surveillance and the ones that count the money. This guy said Stewart’s so smart he even invented some computer stuff, a program that can track the customers’ faces or something crazy. No wonder he’s such a nerd.” She widens her eyes. “Did you know?”
Stunned, I answer, “I had no idea.” This new information changes my perception of Stewart from a bumbling bookish man to a more calculated, tech-savvy genius. Which version of him is the real one? Also, if Stewart’s dad is in the Mafia, does that mean Stewart is too? The image of shy Stewart as a gun-toting Mafioso seems ludicrous.
We reach our favorite street corner in front of New York-New York and drop our bags. Shelly puts out a hand-lettered sign we made.Show-girl photos for $20,it says in glitter ink surrounded by iridescent gold foil stars. The glitter had been Shelly’s idea, and the stars had been mine.
She carefully balances the sign against the casino wall, angling it outward so it can be easily seen. “When he finally gets enough guts to ask you out—”
“He’s not asking me out.” I place a bowl for the tourists’ money on the ground next to our sign. It already has a crisp $20 bill in it. We’ve found people are more likely to leave money if there’s already some in there.
Ignoring me, Shelly continues, “When he finally asks you out, I think you should demand to go to that fancy steak place in the Luxor. He probably gets a huge employee discount there. Or…” Her eyes go wide, and she grabs my upper arm, clutching it tightly. “Maybe he even gets it for free,” she whispers reverently and puts her other hand dramatically over her heart. Closing her eyes, she says, “Can you imagine it? Free steak.” She licks her lips.
I laugh. “Geez. Did you skip dinner or something? Are you okay? Should I buy you a burger?”
She drops her hands back down to her side and narrows her eyes at me. “I’m serious. A girl has to eat. The guy has it bad for you, so you might as well take advantage.”
I give her a doubtful look. “Stewart’s nice. I wouldn’t do that. Besides, you don’t know if he even likes me.”
Shelly doesn’t bother replying. She just rolls her eyes and turns to our first customer.
41
Mom gets sicker. Her white blood cells that battle infection plummet from the chemotherapy. She gets admitted to the ICU for sepsis, sleeping for endless hours as her body struggles to fight off the bacteria in her bloodstream.
I stay by her bedside, which has a strange smell to it, roses mixed with something spicy. Almost like a man’s cologne. I’m scared that if I step away for one second I might come back to find her dead. The nurses kick me out of the room, insisting that I go to the cafeteria for food or home to sleep.
Mr. Chen picks up homework from my teachers and brings it to me in the hospital. He stays with Mom when I go to school to take tests I can’t delay. It’s what my mom would have wanted, for me to keep up with my schoolwork as best as I can.
Mr. Chen holds me when it all becomes too much and I cry hopelessly in the hallway outside my mother’s room. I don’t want to cry in front of my mom, which is silly because she’s unconscious. Superstitiously, I think that if I stay strong in my mother’s presence it will convince her to come back to me. Like I can magically transfer my strength to her. I want to go back to the old days, twirling around the kitchen in her arms. I would do anything to keep my mother alive, even make a deal with the devil.
Miraculously, she pulls through. The antibiotics that slowly drip into her IV defeat the germs raging through her body. She opens her hazel eyes to find me sleeping in the chair beside her. My mother goes from the ICU to the regular medical floor, then to a rehabilitation hospital, and finally home.
Mr. Chen demands that Mom move into his apartment because she’s too weak to climb up the stairs. He makes a bed for her in his office, with themattress pressed up against the bent spines of his books. The musty smell of old books blends with the musty smell of sickness in the room.
Relentlessly, the medical bills keep rolling in. I sell my mom’s old car. I sell our furniture and extra clothing. I let go of the apartment and move in with Mr. Chen, sleeping in the same bed as my mom and swearing I’ll pay half the rent once I get more money. He refuses to accept the little bit of cash that I offer.
“Tiffany, dear, you and your mother are my family now,” Mr. Chen tells me. “This is what family does. We take care of each other.”
His words make me cry all over again.
42
Present, Orlando, Florida
When I see the souvenir popcorn bucket designed to look like Cinderella’s carriage, I can’t contain my excitement. “My favorite princess!” I exclaim, rushing over to get in line.
“I’m going to grab a pretzel. Meet you back here.” Ethan walks across the street to the snack cart.
Thirty dollars poorer but happy, I munch on popcorn as I walk back to Ethan. He’s bought a salted pretzel in the shape of Mickey Mouse’s head, along with a cup of creamy melted cheese dip.
“That looks good.” I eye his food with envy.
“Wanna trade?” He holds the salty snack out to me. “A bite of my pretzel for some of your popcorn?”
“Sure.” I grasp my popcorn in one hand and take his pretzel with the other. Ethan holds the cheese dip out, so I can plunge the pretzel into it. Just before I’m going to take a bite, a rush of wind blows a piece of scarlet hair into my face. My hands full of food, I try to shake the wayward strands out of my eyes, but they remain stuck.
