She sat down on the black leather arm chair that was place diagonally across from the couch, and waited for Blake to join her. Offering her a drink, she took a small sip, and then put it down on the glass coffee table in front of them.
“So what happened?” she asked, not wanting to wait any longer.
“Well, I took the bus as usual to the metro station, and I was a little late so as I ran out onto the platform I accidentally bumped into somebody who wanted to pick a fight and pushed me onto the tracks. I landed on my wrist,” he said, holding up the arm in the sling.
Alana tried to interrupt him, but he held up his hand to silence her.
“Then the subway train started coming,” Blake paused, wondering how everything had actually happened. “I managed to pull myself off the tracks and to the side, just barely avoiding it. Then when I got back on the platform, I collapsed and cracked my skull open on the concrete.”
“Wait, what?! Someone just pushed you onto the tracks for bumping into them?” shouted
Alana incredulously. “The important part is that you’re alright now, right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. The paramedics were helpful, and even if the doctor did seem to have the hots for a minor, she was nice,” replied Blake, taking a sip of his own drink.
“Wow. I can’t believe that though. The odds of you not getting hit by the train are incredibly slim.”
“Can I sign it?” Alana asked cheerily.
“You really want to?” Blake asked, laughing. “Well, if you want.”
He went into the kitchen and grabbed a few of his permanent markers from the junk drawer. He lay out the purple, blue, and black markers on the coffee table in front of her, and held out his arm, the plain white cast just asking to be defaced. She signed her name in the purple color, made highlights with the black, and put stars around it in blue.
“All done! Now everyone else at school can sign it, but I was here first.”
“You’re always there first,” Blake said, smiling. “What did Mrs. Rita have to say about my absence?”
“Well, at first she didn’t believe me, of course, but by the end of class when you didn’t even show up late I think she accepted that it was true. Personally, she was probably hoping you’d be late to make you get another detention.”
“Everyone always says that teachers don’t hold grudges against their students, but ever since that time I pointed out that her whole way of teaching was judgmental she’s had it out for me!”
“You never did learn to keep your mouth shut,” said Alana with a grin.
Blake grimaced, and stuck his tongue out at her. Offering her a second drink, Alana shook her head, and he brought both glasses back into the kitchen where he left them on the counter to put them in the dishwasher later.
“How’re you and Dane doing?” he asked, walking back into the living room.
“I guess we’re okay. He’s just getting restless because he’s ready to sleep with me but I’m not. It’s just frustrating, you know?” she asked, shrugging.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s hard, but you’ll both get over it,” said Blake with a comforting smile.
Alana smiled sadly, and then sighed, shaking her head, making her hair mess up but still manage to stay nice. Her light brown eyes seemed to almost water up, but she looked away, pretending to be watching the news that was still running in the background. Blake took her hand in his, and turned her head to face him.
“Don’t let things get this bad. You know I’m here for you. You’re practically my sister, you can tell me things, alright?” he said, trying to get a genuine smile out of her.
She choked back a sob and laughed, wiping her eyes with her free hand. She leaned her head on Blake’s shoulder, and regained her composure within a few minutes. Her eyes were slightly red, and she pulled a tissue from her back pocket and quietly blew her nose as she calmed herself down. Alana looked at the time, and sighed heavily.
“I think I should go, I still have to stop by Dane’s place to pick up my stuff and be home before curfew. The ‘rents decided that if Dane had a curfew, I should too,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Drive safely then, alright? It’s going to be dark by the time you end up getting home.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got my helmet and I don’t normally speed,” she said, forcing a grin. “See you tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I might be at school, depends on how I feel,” replied Blake, looking down at his arm with a frown.
Alana smiled, picked up her metallic red helmet off the ground, and then quietly left Blake’s apartment. As she walked down the hall, her eyes started to water again, but she let them fall silently as she decided what she would do next. A big part of her wanted her to stay with Dane and try to please him, but another, more convincing part of her reminded her that the bruise on her arm probably wouldn’t be the last and that it was better to just leave him.
Blake walked over to his window, and sat down on the ledge, looking out at the road below him as he waited to make sure that Alana was safe, and that the image that coursed through his head was just that, an image, and nothing more. He saw her come to a stop at the intersection on her unmistakable black motorcycle, and a weight was lifted off him when she drove across safely out of view.
Slowly getting off the window sill, he stretched his arm and glared at his now limited motioned arm. He went into the kitchen, and then opened the dishwasher and pulled open the top rack. Blake picked up his glass, and put it away, and then picked up Alana’s. He froze in place, and he could see Dane hitting Alana across the face vividly in his mind. As the image disappeared, Blake dropped the glass and it shattered across the floor.
Shakily picking up the larger pieces, he breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly repetitively as he tried to calm himself down. He tried convincing himself that what he was seeing was just side effects of the pain killers, that since the first one hadn’t happened Dane hitting Alana wasn’t true, but saying it wasn’t true felt wrong.
He stepped around the shattered glass, and went into the kitchen pantry and took out the small broom. As he swept away the pieces of broken glass into a neat pile, he sighed as he realized that he would have difficulty picking the pile up. Lightly taking hold of the broom and the dust pan in the other with the fingers that stuck out from the cast, he tried sweeping the pile onto the dust pan. The phone rang suddenly, breaking the silence in his apartment.
Blake jumped and dropped the broom onto the ground, and stared at the phone, waiting for it to ring a second time.
“Hello?” he said warily as he picked it up in the midst of its second ring.
“Hello, this is Dr. Alice Kappa calling from the General Hospital. Are you Blake Farrell?”
“Yeah, that’s me. What can I do for you?”
“You need to come down here right away, it’s an emergency. Do you have a way of getting here?”
“An emergency?” Blake asked. “Alana…?” he whispered softly when a sudden realization came across him.
“She’s in critical condition and it said to contact you in case of emergency in her wallet. We’ve already contacted her family and they’re on the way.”
“Can you send an ambulance or something to pick me up?” Blake asked, his voice shaking and his heart beating heavily.
“That I can do. But I’ll need to know your address.”
“3874 Celeste Apartments. I’ll be waiting outside the main lobby to make things easier.”
“Thank you very much, someone will be over in an instant. I’m terribly sorry to have to call you so late.”
“It’s fine, as long as I get there. Thanks,” he said as he hung up the phone.
Blake grabbed the keys to his apartment off the counter beside him and rushed to the front door where he threw on his fake leather jacket and lazily laced his Converse Chucks. He locked the door and rushed down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator and flung open the glass lobby doors leading outside.
He shook nearly violently as he waited for the person to pick him up, partially because of the wind, but mostly because he knew that something was going to happen, and he didn’t bother trying to warn her. He cursed at himself out loud and kicked the stucco wall behind him.
A police car swerved to a stop in front of the sidewalk, and Blake ran over to the car, the man motioning for him to come. Pulling open the front door, he jumped inside and did his seat belt up as the cop drove away.
“We’ll be there in under five minutes,” he said, looking over at Blake who was still shaking. “are you okay, son?
“Not really,” he said unnervingly. The man nodded, and didn’t question him further, the situation being none of his business.
The car pulled into the familiar emergency parking, and Blake ran from the car, shouting a quick thanks to the police man who had driven him there. Rushing through the automatic doors, he dodged around a few doctors and nurses until he nearly collided with the front desk.
“I’m looking for my friend Alana Flannigan, I’m pretty sure she’s in ICU. Dr. Alice Kappa called me and told me to come here. Can you tell me where she is?” Blake said in nearly one breath, his hands shaking as he placed them on the counter. Typing as quickly as she could, the secretary scanned the screen, looking for the room number that Alana was in.
“She’s in room 378, third floor. She probably won’t be allowed to receive any visitors yet, but since you were called here it might be a different story,” the secretary said.
“Thank you very much!”
Blake took off, but this time at a fast walking pace, not wanting to seem rude or run into anybody else. An elevator door opened, letting someone off, and Blake stepped onto hit, urgently hitting the third floor button and waiting impatiently as it brought him slowly up to the floor. The doors opened, and he raced through the hallway, scanning for the room number.
You need to be logged in to comment