1"So what's the mission?"
Danny skillfully avoided my question by enforcing car safety. "Buckle your seat belt."
"In a minute mom. Now seriously where are we going? What's the mission?"
"One question at a time. Buckle your seatbelt."
"What's the point? You drive like Miss Daisy after her sedatives kick in."
Danny smiled that crazy Evil Canivel smile of his that was usually a precursor to some kind of crazy stunt. Not that this information ever helped me stop the crazy stunts from happening. Danny was like a tornado. You couldn't do shit to stop him but if you knew which direction he was coming from and how fast you could grab your valuables and run like hell, and maybe only your cat or fine china would die as a result. Danny did that thing where he stared at me and ignored the road completely. "I don't think I like your tone missy. I think we should have a little lesson on car safety."
It happened before I could react. We were passing by the Ridge Dale mall parking at that moment and Danny made the hardest left in the history of hard lefts into the lot and I went flying over to his side of the front seat.
"Jesus!" I screamed from Danny's lap where I had, unfortunately, fallen.
"See wasn't that eye opening?" Danny asked cheerfully. We were now cruising through the deserted mall parking lot. He looked down at me, sprawled across his knees, trying to get up while in motion. "How are you doing down there?"
"Shut up you fucking creep. Why are you always such an asshole?" I pushed myself off of Danny's legs and propelled myself back into the passenger seat. "Did your dad used to beat you with empty beer bottles? Did wild animals assault you? Or did you just always get picked last for dodge-ball and your taking it out on me?"
Danny nodded with a pretend scowl on his face. "Sounds like someone still doesn't understand the importance of car safety." He said condescendingly, like a teacher scolding a young child for eating paste.
"Wait! -" I said, but it was too late. Danny made an almost 180 right turn causing my head and upper body to connect painfully with the car door. I swore –quite loudly and succinctly I might add- at Danny and grabbed my forehead, which was throbbing painfully. I felt like the little ball inside a pinball machine played by a crazy Ritalin-fueled five year old.
"Do we have to do that again?" Danny questioned, his hands dramatically posed on the steering wheel preparing for another abrupt turn. Danny always had a weird sense of protectiveness over me. In his mind it was okay for him to cause me pain as long as no one else did. That probably makes it sound like he took a bat to me every day but it really wasn't like that. He was always finding ways of hurting me without actually hurting me, like with the car. It was a talent of his. One of many extremely annoying talents. Whatever. At least he avoided bruising.
"Ow. You know, I'm not so fond of all these concussion inducing activities." Danny moved his hands as if preparing to turn again. "Okay, okay, Speed Racer you can stop." I said, waving my arms wildly. "Look, I'm putting on my seat belt now okay? Are you happy?"
The truck's front seat was like a couch with one long back instead of two separate seats. I usually liked the beaten up vinyl but not when Danny did what he was about to do, namely stretch his arm across the shared seat back and start playing with my hair. He does that. It was one of his many freaky compulsions; he was inordinately interested in my hair, which was boring, long, brown and wavy.
"Eh. Sometimes." Danny said lazily in response to are you happy. "But I got pills for that now."
Maybe I should explain how Danny and I met. Warning: If your expecting some cute meet like we run into each other on the street and my books fall out of my hands and all over and he helps me pick them up and our hands skim over my copy of The Catcher In The Rye and we gaze adoringly into each other's eyes. Gag me.
I was doing volunteer hours for St. Sebastian's Hospital in the psych ward because I didn't want to work the ladle at the local soup kitchen and the thought of sponge bathing old people made me want to vomit. And Danny was the guy in bed four with bandages on one of his wrists near the veins. "I was just shaving my arm hair –I'm on the swim team- and I slipped." That was his explanation that he said with a smile on his face that said that he didn't believe it any more than the doctors did. The nurses put up with him because he was cute and always said please when asking for a pudding cup or a new catheter, but he frustrated the doctors and shrinks to no end because he made it clear he wasn't going to be holding their hands and gushing about why he had tried to punch his own ticket. Talking to him you wouldn't think he was the kind of person who was eager to kick the bucket, he didn't wear it like a badge of honor consistently pinned to his lapel like some people did. And I don't know, he intrigued me I guess. So I started eavesdropping on the shrinks when they talked about him. Words like "major depressive episode" and "low serotonin levels" were bandied about and only managed to pique my curiosity.
There was nothing unusual in the parent department. They were wealthy, healthy-looking white people with decent clothes and jewelry who showed the right amount of emotion and regret for the parents of a suicidal kid. Danny and I didn't really cross paths much initially but I did see him checking out my ass once. We met when he spilled his bedpan on me. It is how most relationships start with one person getting soaked with the other's urine. We got to talking, hanging out and he started picking me up after my shift. Then about a month after we started hanging out I got a call from Danny on a Saturday afternoon. "Come to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs…" Danny said, quoting Die Hard and I laughed and said I 'd be over in a little while. Once I saw the front door open I knew something was wrong. I had that weird feeling that felt like a midget was jumping up and down inside my stomach. I got goose bumps, spine tingles, tummy butterflies, the works. The whole audience was shouting don't go in there, but I pushed the door open and tiptoed in feeling like a cat burglar.
"I'm in here!" I heard Danny yell from inside as I shouted greetings into the house and I started to lower my blood pressure. The lazy ass is probably just sitting in the den playing video games, refusing to come to the door. But he wasn't playing video games.
He was laying at the bottom of the staircase on the marble floor, his legs bent at funny angles, his arm and face all banged up.
"Hey you're here." He said and smiled like everything was just fine and dandy and he wasn't on the end of a failed suicide attempt. I honestly don't remember much about that part (probably a psychological defense mechanism- I watch a lot of doctor shows), except of course Danny's surprise and annoyance when I called an ambulance. "Look at me, I'm fine!"
The ambulance came and Danny complained as the guys pulled him up and onto a gurney.
"Do you want to ride with him?" The lady paramedic asked as her buds loaded him onto the back of the ambulance.
"Of course she's coming. I'm not going to be left alone with you people." Danny said, granting him several harsh glares from the paramedics.
The lady paramedic rolled her eyes at him and looked to me for confirmation.
I found my voice hiding in a corner of my throat and dragged it up. "No. Thanks. I've got my car." I remember Danny's face. It was like he had been punched in the jaw. He called after me as I walked to my car but in that instance I didn't care. Eventually they closed the doors and drove away and I sat in my mom's car for the next five hours staring at a pine tree air freshener, before I could work the gas pedal and drove to the hospital.
"Are you family?" The doctor questioned suspiciously when I asked to see Danny.
"Yeah I'm his sister." I lied.
"Funny, you two don't look alike."
"…. I'm adopted. Weird that he's the one here considering what people say about adopted kids. He he he." The doctor didn't believe my fake laugh any more than I did and I stopped and he continued to look at his clipboard.
"But you're not the one who brought him here." He said, reading the file.
I nodded a little too hard. "No that's his friend."
He folded his arm across his chest. "And she's not here right now?"
"No but that's no surprise. That girl's total dandruff." He shot me a questioning look. "Flaky." I explained.
"Well both of the legs appear to be broken, he's suffered a minor concussion and a few bumps and bruises but we expect him to make a full recovery. He's on a morphine drip for the pain so he's a little out of it, but you can go in and see him if you like." He said, before letting me into Danny's room.
"Hey." Danny murmured from the bed as I came in. His eyelids were drooping and barely open. He seemed barely conscious. "Where you been?"
I sat down next to him and leaned over the bed. He extended one arm slowly from underneath the sheets and touched a loose strand of my hair. I made a sound like a laugh and grinned and dropped his hand tiredly on the bedspread. He let his hand wander on top of mine and just laid there blinking at me.
I took his hand and leaned closer. "Are you listening?"
"Mmhhmm." Danny mumbled, his voice barely audible.
"This, was stupid. You are not going to fucking do anything like this or I won't fucking come back next time. "I said calmly and quietly. "Okay?"
"Okay." Danny said before closing his eyes.