Alex Armstrong: Awakening (15 page)

But it wasn’t. This was real. Because in the next breath, she could smell him. His cologne. His sweat. His breath. She was so close. He was so close. The support shifted from her neck and lower back to her waist. Real hands. His hands. He pulled her to safety and she opened her eyes.

“Hold still,” Alex said.

She felt a tickle across her face as Alex removed the web. Now he looked at her shoulder and narrowed his eyes and a plump little spider floated into the air and hovered a few feet beyond her face, its legs twitching. Alex made like he was flicking an ant and the spider went tumbling into the trees.

They both stood there. Silent. Numb with the awareness of what might have been.

“Are you alri—”

Eva rushed into his arms and pulled tight. She felt the scruff of his cheek against her skin. She felt his hands slide up and down her sides. And then, she kissed him. A peck at first. A little harder the next time. She kissed and kissed until she felt him stir into action and take over, his mouth pressing hard against hers.

****

Alex worked with a wordless intensity. He felt her breathing at his side. He joined their names with a plus sign and fingered away the excess filings before standing to admire his work. Eva stayed crouched a beat longer.
Click
.

15 - Christmas

15

Christmas

“Well? What do you think?”

“Dad, it’s—it’s too nice. This is too much.”

“It’s your birthday and Christmas present. I’m allowed to combine em and go extra nice. But if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t buy anything but a new band. That watch was given to me by my old man.”

Alex smiled at his dad’s face on the monitor and then went back to the watch. The movement was in plain view through the crystal dial. He sat staring at the wheels and pinions, so beautifully intricate.

“I remember my dad saying it’d always bring me good luck. I can’t really speak to that. It is neat looking, though.”

“Yes sir,” Alex said, nodding. “I love it, Dad. Thank you.” He turned his palm to the sky and made the watch float a few feet into the air, rotating.

“Well, I’m glad you like it. I thought it was time to pass that along to—”

“I’m sorry I’m not back home with you.”

Mr. Armstrong frowned. “Well, buddy, it’s not like you had much choice in the matter.”

“I know. It’s just that…I know this is a tough time of year for you.” Alex kept his eyes on the watch. “I’m sorry about Mom.”

Mr. Armstrong inched a little closer to the monitor, his eyes never leaving Alex. “You’ve never called her that. Mom.”

“I should have.” His dad blinked quickly a few times. Alex knew he was trying to keep from crying. “How old would sh—Mom—have been?”

Mr. Armstrong took a deep breath and stared into the distance. “Hmmm. Well, let’s see; you just turned seventeen, so…‌forty-two? Yeah, that’s it. She’d be forty-two.”

“She was younger than you.”

“Yep.”

“Do you still…‌do you still miss her?”

“Every day.”

Alex looked down at his bare feet. It was a stupid question. He started rubbing the back of his neck harder than was necessary. “Sorry,” he said, although he was sure his dad didn’t hear it. Alex looked up at the monitor again. “Was she sick?” His dad’s expression never changed from that sad smile. “You don’t need to—”

“I’m okay. Just thinkin.” Mr. Armstrong closed his eyes and sighed. “No. Your mom wasn’t sick. The opposite, really. Always runnin and workin out. She could run circles around me in the gym. Hell, the only thing that even reminded me that she was human were those damn headaches that would creep up on her every once in a while. But she’d just take some pills and go to sleep and wake up fine. She’d even have em once in a while when she was carryin you, but they weren’t enough to ever worry the doctors. They just kept tellin us it was a normal pregnancy. So we never thought twice about it. Just went around with smiles on our faces like any young couple about to have a baby.

“I remember the day we found out about you like it was yesterday.” Mr. Armstrong took a sip of water and eased back into his recliner. He stared into the distance again. “We had this routine. First thing in the mornin Catherine would take her test, then she’d hide the strip under a little folded-up piece of toilet paper while it developed. On this particular mornin, I was still sleepin pretty hard. She had to wake me up. Rolled me right outta bed! It was long past time and she was tired of waitin and so she made me hurry in there without puttin on my robe. God, it was cold on that bathroom tile. Anyway, we’re both kneelin there and on the count of three Catherine snatches away the toilet paper. And there it is: a plus sign. I’ll never forget that.”

“You still smile when you talk about her.”

“Well, I loved your mom very much,” Mr. Armstrong said. He took another sip. “You know how I told you that I used to be a professor?”

“Yes sir.”

“The day you were born ended up bein my last day. Never set foot in that classroom again.”

“You never told me that.”

“I didn’t think so. I hardly remember even bein in the classroom that day, to tell you the truth. But at some point I answered the phone buzzin in my pocket and it was your mother screamin that it was time for me to get my rear end to the hospital.” He laughed. “The girls in the front row heard her over the speaker. They jumped up when they saw my legs start to wobble and guided me outta the building and to my car. I’m still not sure how I drove. All I know is I was one big grin.

“Next thing I know, I’m holdin you and whisperin to you and feelin that soft baby skin. You were so alert. Not cryin at all. And then…‌then it was like someone decided I’d had enough happiness for one day. First one machine started makin noises and then another and another and I just got the worst feelin in the pit of my stomach, and when I looked back at the bed, the doctors and nurses were all crowded around Catherine. I tried to walk up so that I could see her face, but more came in and pushed me outta the way and blocked my view. All I really wanted was to see her, and for her to see you, but…” He lowered his head. He sat like that for a long time before looking up again. “That was a tough day, buddy.”

“Dad, I’m so sorry.”

“Who was—who was askin about her?” Mr. Armstrong said, his voice soft.

“What do you mean?”

“Those questions. You’ve never asked any of that before.”

“Oh, just…‌Eva got me thinking.”

Mr. Armstrong smiled. “Girls’ll do that kinda thing.”

****

Alex hunched forward on the edge of Nate’s bed, eyes on the monitor. His character hopped off a motorcycle and jumped into a yellow sports car. He raced through a few red lights before turning into a neighborhood where he proceeded to plow through mailboxes.

“That’s pretty heavy, man.”

Alex nodded, still doing his best to take out mailboxes. “I know. First time I ever asked him about her. I feel bad that it had to happen at Christmas, but it’d been eating away at me since that hike and today was the first opportunity to bring it up. Next thing you know it’s
all
out there.” He shook his head. “It was rough. He was fighting back tears.”

“Like I said, man, heavy stuff.” Nate stayed motionless in his chair. “It’s for the best, though. I’m sure that was a huge weight off his shoulders. And besides, it’s not like you could keep avoiding that conversation. It was gonna happen eventually.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“HO HO HO!”

They turned in time to see Patrick shoulder open the door, a grocery bag in each hand. “Merry Christmas! I come bearing gifts.”

“Presents?” Nate said.

“I even took the time to wrap.” Patrick placed both bags on the floor and reached into the one on his right and pulled out what looked like two hastily wrapped tissue boxes. He handed one to Nate and the other to Alex.

“But we didn’t get you anything.”

“Doesn’t matter. Go on, open em up. Turn off the Nerdbox and let’s get this party started.”

Alex and Nate looked at each other and shrugged. Alex was the first to rip off the paper. He reached his hand inside and pulled out his prize. “A shot glass.” He held it to the light and looked at the four-leaf clover engraved on its base. “Thanks, Patrick.”

“Yeah, thanks, man, but uhh, I think mine’s been used.” Nate squinted at a suspicious looking smudge. He used his shirt to smear it off.

“Whoops, thought I cleaned em better than that. Sorry.”

“So are these yours?”

“Yeah,” Patrick said. “But I want you to have em. I mean, am I right guessing that neither of you has a shot glass?”

Nate and Alex nodded.

“Good. Cause you’re gonna need em for
this
.” Patrick leaned over to the second grocery bag and removed a bottle of booze. He flipped it upside down and back again so that the gold flakes that were resting at the bottom now drifted about the thick, syrupy liquid. “I smuggled this in on the first day. Been saving it for a special occasion.”

“We’re gonna drink it?” Alex said.

“We’re gonna drink it,” Patrick said. “We’re stuck here on Christmas. I think we’re entitled to have a little fun. Now, let’s see those glasses.”

Nate gave his glass one last wipe and sent it hovering across the room. Patrick caught it and sat it at eye-level and filled it to the brim. He slid the shot glass back to Nate across an invisible bar top and looked at Alex.

Alex cradled his glass with both hands. “You sure it’s okay to drink that stuff? You know, with all the gold floating around in there?”

“What, do you think their marketing strategy involves killing off their customers? Geez, man, you act like you’ve never had a drink before.”

Alex blushed and looked at his shoes.

Patrick’s mouth opened. “Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Is
this your first time?”

Alex nodded.

“
What
? How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really hang out with anybody that drank in high school.”

“Yeah but—but what about parties?”

“I didn’t go to any parties.”

Patrick sat there blinking.

Alex shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like I wasn’t invited to any. I just—I don’t know. I guess I’d rather hang out with my dad. Parties aren’t really my thing.”

Patrick knuckled his eyes. “This just doesn’t compute.” He looked at Nate. “You went to parties, didn’t you?”

Nate grinned. “A few.”

Patrick turned back to Alex. “I don’t know what to say. You know what? I take that back. I know exactly what to say: Gimme that shot glass.”

Alex opened his mouth to say something.

“No, no, no. I don’t wanna hear it. Just send it over,” Patrick motioned with his hand.

Alex sighed. “Just don’t let me do anything stupid.” He sent the lucky shot glass to Patrick and watched him fill it and then fill his own before sending it back. It felt cold between Alex’s fingers.

“All right you guys, stand up. Let’s toast this thing and do it right.” Patrick waited for Alex and Nate to get in position. “To the stunning news that our dear friend Alex Armstrong has led a sheltered life: May the strong, sugary goodness in this tiny glass warm his belly and open his eyes to a better world. A less uptight world. A world where the impossible becomes possible, the intolerable becomes tolerable, and the average become beautiful.” He looked back and forth between Nate and Alex, grinning. “So, by the power vested in me by the League of Smart-Alecky Short Guys, I hereby declare that we drink this shot to Alex!”

Alex clinked his glass against the others and tossed it back and winced. It tasted like a hundred Red Hots exploded in his mouth.

“He did it!” Patrick said. He bent down and grabbed the bottle. “Another one!”

****

Alex slammed the shot glass on the surfboard that was now floating in the middle of the room. “I’m done.
No más.”

“That was only four,” Patrick said.

Alex sat on the ground and touched his cheeks. “I can’t feel my face.”

“Oh. Then maybe you are done,” Patrick said.

“And I’m starving,” Alex said. “What time is it, anyway?”

“You just got a watch, you moron.”

“Oh yeah.” Alex closed one eye and squinted at the dial. “It’s four—no wait—
six
o’clock. Isn’t Eva supposed to be here by now?”

“You tell us,” Patrick said. “She’s your girlfriend.”

Alex sighed and lay on the carpet, a smile plastered on his face. “Girlfriend might be a little strong.”

“Yeah, well, you’re on your way. How many times have you guys hooked up now?”

“Hooked up? What?”

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Patrick said. “It’s time for you to open up a little bit.”

“There’s nothing to open up about.”

Patrick pointed at the door. “Nothing you say will leave this room. Isn’t that right, Nate?”

Nate was sprawled across the bed, his purple hoodie pulled over his head. He nodded.

“See? Come on, Alex. Tell us. Dude, I
live
for these kinds of details.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I promise. I’d tell you guys if there was.”

Patrick’s shoulders slumped. “Seriously? Even after you saved her?”

“We kissed right after. Made out a few times since then, but yall know about that.” He burped. “Honestly, though—nothing’s happened.”

Patrick shook his head. “Dude, you saved her life. She owes you. I mean, on the official Patrick Jones tit-for-tat scale that equals at least a hand job. And probably a notch above, if you know what I mean.” He winked.

“Yeah, well, maybe your scale’s a little off.”

“Never,” Patrick said. He deepened his voice to sound like a judge handing down a grave sentence. “I say she should…‌tickle…‌your…‌pickle!”

Nate rolled over so the little opening in his hood faced the ceiling and started laughing. “Hey, that reminds me. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Me, or Alex?”

“Alex. Man, did you ever tell Startsman how you lifted her up? That was nuts.”

“Nah, I never said anything.”

“Why? You should tell him. That’s pretty advanced stuff, man.”

Alex shook his head. “It was a fluke. I haven’t done anything like that since.”