Read Online One Last Thing Before I Go by Jonathan Tropper - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jonathan Tropper
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anymore, but all they could have were those sweet, urgent, endless kisses, night after night, tormenting him with a perfect, unsullied love he would never be allowed to keep.
CHAPTER15
H e is vaguely aware, over the next few hours, of the quiet bustle of a small crowd swelling and dispersing in the hospital room. His parents are there, perched against the windowsill, quietly watching, as if from the balcony seats. His perfect brother, Chuck, three years younger, moves in and out of the room, distributing snacks and refreshing his parents’ coffee. Denise stands out in the hall talking on her cell phone, maybe dealing with final wedding arrangements. And Casey sits alone in the corner, curled up into the only available chair, one leg slung haphazardly over the armrest. She is staring sullenly at him with red eyes and a poker face. He feels the need to apologize to her for something, but then, isn’t that how he always feels when he sees her? Still, the general sense he gets is that he has pissed everyone off. Again.
“He’s up,” Casey says.
Ruben and Elaine perk up. Chuck puts down the packaged sandwich he was about to eat. “Hey,” he says. “We were worried about you.”
“Why are you here?” Silver says.
Chuck looks concerned. “You’re in the hospital,” he says, slow and loud, like Silver is an elderly man.
“I know that,” Silver says. “I’m just wondering why you’re here.”
“You’re my brother,” Chuck says.
Silver shrugs. “We’re not really that close.”
Chuck looks instantly offended, and Silver wonders to himself why he just said that. But before he can think it through, Denise comes back into the room with Rich in tow. She looks good, Denise, in her simple black sweater and jeans. Even in his benumbed state, he feels a pang, a dull blade scraping him somewhere soft.
“So,” she says sternly. “Are you with us, Silver?”
Something is different. He can’t isolate it, but everything feels fresher, more immediate. The sound of Denise’s voice, the hospital smells, the hum emanating from the fluorescent lights in the fixture above his bed.
“I could use some water,” he says.
“You could use some surgery,” Denise says. “Tomorrow morning, at eight. I’ve canceled our dinner plans so that Rich can get a good night’s sleep.”
“I’ll be in top form,” Rich says with a smile.
“That was nice of you.” Denise is tan, and her skin seems to be glowing in the stark whiteness of the room. Her teeth look whiter than before, and he can’t tell if it’s the contrast to her tanned skin, or if she maybe had them whitened in anticipation of new wedding photos.
“So, you’ll have the surgery?” his mother says.
“No.”
Denise snorts and shakes her head, on behalf of the room. “You’re being an asshole, Silver.” To the untrained ear, she might sound pissed, but he can hear the concern in her voice, the residual love that still pisses her off and pathetically warms him.
Casey brings him a plastic cup of ice water. He drinks it down in two greedy gulps and then savors the feeling of a few smaller ice cubes melting against his tongue. He has never really appreciated the way things can melt in your mouth, effortlessly altering states with the heat of your tongue.
He looks at Denise. “Did you have your teeth whitened?”
“What?” she says, blushing through her tan.
Her teeth are white, her skin is tan, and her eyes are bluer than they are in his memories. She’s beautiful in a way that hurts.
He notices that everyone in the room is staring at him, their expressions a mix of chagrin and concern, as if they can hear what he was thinking, and that’s when he understands that he has said these things out loud.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Silver?’
“I have an aortic dissection.”
“No, I mean, why are you saying these things?”
Rich clears his throat. Then he steps over and shines a penlight into Silver’s eyes. “He may be having a
CHAPTER15
H e is vaguely aware, over the next few hours, of the quiet bustle of a small crowd swelling and dispersing in the hospital room. His parents are there, perched against the windowsill, quietly watching, as if from the balcony seats. His perfect brother, Chuck, three years younger, moves in and out of the room, distributing snacks and refreshing his parents’ coffee. Denise stands out in the hall talking on her cell phone, maybe dealing with final wedding arrangements. And Casey sits alone in the corner, curled up into the only available chair, one leg slung haphazardly over the armrest. She is staring sullenly at him with red eyes and a poker face. He feels the need to apologize to her for something, but then, isn’t that how he always feels when he sees her? Still, the general sense he gets is that he has pissed everyone off. Again.
“He’s up,” Casey says.
Ruben and Elaine perk up. Chuck puts down the packaged sandwich he was about to eat. “Hey,” he says. “We were worried about you.”
“Why are you here?” Silver says.
Chuck looks concerned. “You’re in the hospital,” he says, slow and loud, like Silver is an elderly man.
“I know that,” Silver says. “I’m just wondering why you’re here.”
“You’re my brother,” Chuck says.
Silver shrugs. “We’re not really that close.”
Chuck looks instantly offended, and Silver wonders to himself why he just said that. But before he can think it through, Denise comes back into the room with Rich in tow. She looks good, Denise, in her simple black sweater and jeans. Even in his benumbed state, he feels a pang, a dull blade scraping him somewhere soft.
“So,” she says sternly. “Are you with us, Silver?”
Something is different. He can’t isolate it, but everything feels fresher, more immediate. The sound of Denise’s voice, the hospital smells, the hum emanating from the fluorescent lights in the fixture above his bed.
“I could use some water,” he says.
“You could use some surgery,” Denise says. “Tomorrow morning, at eight. I’ve canceled our dinner plans so that Rich can get a good night’s sleep.”
“I’ll be in top form,” Rich says with a smile.
“That was nice of you.” Denise is tan, and her skin seems to be glowing in the stark whiteness of the room. Her teeth look whiter than before, and he can’t tell if it’s the contrast to her tanned skin, or if she maybe had them whitened in anticipation of new wedding photos.
“So, you’ll have the surgery?” his mother says.
“No.”
Denise snorts and shakes her head, on behalf of the room. “You’re being an asshole, Silver.” To the untrained ear, she might sound pissed, but he can hear the concern in her voice, the residual love that still pisses her off and pathetically warms him.
Casey brings him a plastic cup of ice water. He drinks it down in two greedy gulps and then savors the feeling of a few smaller ice cubes melting against his tongue. He has never really appreciated the way things can melt in your mouth, effortlessly altering states with the heat of your tongue.
He looks at Denise. “Did you have your teeth whitened?”
“What?” she says, blushing through her tan.
Her teeth are white, her skin is tan, and her eyes are bluer than they are in his memories. She’s beautiful in a way that hurts.
He notices that everyone in the room is staring at him, their expressions a mix of chagrin and concern, as if they can hear what he was thinking, and that’s when he understands that he has said these things out loud.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Silver?’
“I have an aortic dissection.”
“No, I mean, why are you saying these things?”
Rich clears his throat. Then he steps over and shines a penlight into Silver’s eyes. “He may be having a
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