Page 31 of Paging Dr. Hart
Something changes at school after that day. The boys no longer look at me. Instead, they deliberately look away. It’s so obvious that I decide to test its limits. I place myself right in front of a guy from my gym class and stare into his face. He’s terrified. Quickly averting his eyes, he rushes past, almost knocking me over in his haste.
Rafe must have said something. That’s all I can figure out. I can’t imagine the kid who attacked me told anyone. It wouldn’t look good for him to admit his crime or how he got beaten. Besides, I hadn’t seen him since the attack. Maybe he fled. Or maybe something happened to him?
No, it must have been Rafe. It’s like he’s claimed me, left his mark. Told everyone I was off limits.
So much for getting invited to homecoming this year.
A few days later, I approach him at school, hoping to say thank you again and to ask what he said to the other boys. As we pass each other in the hallway, I call out Rafe’s name. He looks straight at me, so I know he heard, but he walks right past, his face an emotionless mask. I’m open-mouthed, watching his retreating back.
Fine.
We aren’t speaking to each other. Message received. Act like we don’t know each other.
I can do that.
24
Istart to watch Rafe. Before I hardly noticed him, but now I can’t stop staring. Each morning, I scan the crowd, searching for a pair of green eyes. A strange tightening in my chest intensifies bit by bit until I see him, then it relaxes and I can finally breathe.
Many days, Rafe doesn’t show up at school, which sends me into a panicked spiral of thoughts.Where is he? Is he okay? Did something bad happen to him?
A day or two later, he always turns back up. His sudden reappearance like a rabbit pulled out of a magician’s hat doesn’t help my anxiety. Often, he sports fading black eyes, scraped hands, and bruises in the shape of fingerprints on his arms.
Who hurt him? Is he in a gang? Does his father beat him?
It’s probably drugs. Selling them or taking them. I favor selling because I’ve never seen Rafe act like he’s high. He’s always carefully controlled, never exuberant or carefree. He doesn’t seem like he would enjoy the loss of inhibition that comes from being wasted.
I want to ask Shelly about it, but something holds me back. Things have been strained between us lately. She’s changed. Now when she comes over to spend the night, dark eyeliner and maroon lipstick appear on the bathroom counter. Often she’s moody, wanting to be alone and listen to music with her headphones on. I don’t like it. Shelly has a new set of friends in the apartment complex where she lives with Mike and Brandi. Maybe these girls are influencing her. For so long, I’ve been Shelly’s best friend, but now I’m not sure if I still hold that title.
It’s lonely to not share these secret thoughts with Shelly. I want to tell her how I believe I owe Rafe a life debt. He saved me once. Now I daydream I’ll save him too. In my fantasies, I’m strong, battling evil forces to protect him. I imagine that seeing my goodness will change him. He’ll see the error of his violent ways and convert to a peaceful life with me. I’m convinced he has a soft heart under that bleak exterior. After all, he saved me, didn’t he?
My dreams always end with us together in a pretty house surrounded by a white picket fence, something I’ve only seen on TV. That house is the exact opposite of the utilitarian concrete apartment I live in. That house is an oasis, a mirage in the desert of Las Vegas.
Rafe is my first crush.
25
Present, Cleveland, Ohio
It’s Sunday, our first day off since we started working in Cleveland. Ethan’s just finished his workout when I walk out of my bedroom, dressed and jabbing gold earrings into my earlobes.
A phone rings and I tense, worrying that it’s another threatening text message. Which is stupid since I already blocked that number. It isn’t my phone buzzing, though. It’s Ethan’s. Wiping sweat off his neck with a towel, he answers it.
“Hello.” A puzzled smile lights up his face, and I’m suddenly curious to know who’s on the other end. Is it a woman? The green stab of jealousy is so unexpected that I sit down on the couch with a thump.
Ethan’s talking into the phone. “What? Now?!” His voice rises, and his eyes widen in alarm. They snap to our front door like he expects marauding pirates to smash through at any moment. His tension transfers to me so quickly that I jump when heavy pounding sounds on the door.
“Ethan!” a deep voice booms from outside. “Open up.”
My eyes race back to Ethan to gauge his reaction. I’m not sure if I should answer the door or go hide in my closet. The hand holding the phone has dropped to his side, and he’s staring up at the ceiling like he’s having a long, private conversation with God.
The knocking continues. I half rise from the couch, ready to move toward the door, but Ethan beats me there. His hand on the doorknob, he sighs and looks over at me. “It’s my brother. Just…ignore most of what he says.” With that vague statement hanging in the air, Ethan swings the door wide.
A hurricane of a man sweeps into the room, already talking a mile a minute. I instantly see the family resemblance. Same light brown eyes, cleft chin, and full mouth. This man’s eyebrows arch higher, and he’s shorter and stockier than Ethan. If Ethan is rectangular in shape, then this man is more of a square.
“Geez, bro, why’d you take so long? Were you naked? Watching porn?” His baritone voice fills our tiny apartment. He half-embraces, half–choke holds Ethan into something resembling a bear hug. “I’ve been standing out there forev—.”
When the man’s eyes land on me, all movement stops as his mouth falls open in a perfect O. Ethan uses the pause to extract himself out of his brother’s arms, prying them off his neck. His brother snaps back into motion, an enormous grin stretching his face.
