When I wake up, I’m met with white. Just white, and the first thought I have is that I am dead. I’m in Heaven, I think with surprising calmness. I feel removed from everything, and the only other thought I have is that I wonder if I proved to Josh I was capable before I died. Probably. Kind of annoying that I had to kick off before he got to tell me himself.
Then I hear voices, and someone slowly moves into my peripheral vision- a man with dark hair. Saint Peter? I’m confused- I always assumed the keeper of Heaven’s gates would be wearing white, not a t-shirt from Honda Bob’s motorcycle dealership. “Hey, she’s up,” he says.
That’s when the pain hits- my head throbs, and I close my eyes again.
“Aviva?”
Saint Peter knows my name; I guess this means I’m in.
“Aviva?”
My eyes open again. “Saint Peter?”
The man laughs out loud- he has gold fillings.
“What’s so funny?” I demand indignantly. It hurts to talk.
“Oh, Sweetie,” says another voice, a softer one. There’s a blond-haired woman standing over me now. “Sweetie, you’re not in Heaven. You’re in a hospital; do you remember? You got trapped while you were trying to save a boy.” She gestures over to the bed next to me, where Taylor is sleeping.
“Who are you?” I ask, aware that I’m being rude but not really caring.
“Diana,” she says. She points to the man who laughed at me. “That’s my husband Walker. We’re Taylor’s parents.” She gives me a watery smile. “Thank you very, very much for what you did for him.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I inform her, after it occurs to me that I’m still among the living. My head is really killing me. “I actually managed to get us caught down in a pitch black death trap, and for that I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened as far as why the ceiling caved in.” I pause and close my eyes briefly. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually this rude, I promise. Are my parents here?”
Walker nods. “They’re talking with the doctor as we speak.”
I groan. “I can’t believe Josh called them- watch me try to get them to let me keep working as a volunteer now.”
Diana puts a cool hand on my cheek, and something occurs to me. “Taylor’s brothers and sisters- are they all okay? He was worried about them before.”
“Jessie, our oldest daughter, has a dislocated elbow, but other than that everyone is fine,” Walker assures me.
“What about Taylor?” I realize suddenly I haven’t asked about him.
“His left knee is broken, as are his right ankle and a couple of ribs. He has a mild concussion, also, but he’ll be fine.”
Upon hearing the word “fine”, I smile calmly and close my eyes. Taylor’s fine. I’m about to try to sleep off the pounding pain in my cranium when the door bursts open. “Veevie!” cries my mother. She rushes over to my bed, followed by my dad. “Oh, Baby, are you okay?”
“Mom, I’m fine, I promise. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I know, Sweetie. But when Josh called and said you’d been trapped, I panicked.”
I think for a moment. “What, exactly, is causing this excruciating pain in my head?”
“You have a concussion, too,” says my father, running a hand through his graying brown hair.
Taylor stirs just then. “Hey, everybody. Having a party without me?”
“Hardly,” I pipe up. Taylor’s parents dash to him, and we continue with our happy reunions until a young, blond nurse sticks her head in.
“I’m sorry to have to be a killjoy, but visiting hours are over,” she says cheerfully.
I crack up, as Taylor is ogling her, until the reality of what Pam Anderson has said hits me. “Wait a sec. You mean I have to stay here? Like, overnight? No way. I’m fine, see?” I attempt to get up, but the throbbing forces me back to my pillow.
Dad pushes my hair back and kisses my forehead. “We’ll bring your stuff over first thing tomorrow. Thal is getting Steve to drive her back from Oklahoma City tonight, so she’ll be here in the morning, too.”
“I’m fine,” I insist, as Taylor’s and my parents turn to leave. “Oh, Aviva,” calls Walker over his shoulder. “About getting yourself and Taylor trapped- your friend Josh told me that unless you had moved my son the way you did, they wouldn’t have been able to get you out.”
“Thank you so much, Sweetie,” says Diana.
“How about that?” Dad asks. “Veevie, you’re a hero.”
“Oh, Lord, no I’m not,” I insist, and lay my head back.
Part Four
“Taylor?” It is later, how much later I’m not sure, but the room is dark except for a single light between the two beds.
Taylor garbles something into his pillow.
“What did you say?”
He rolls over to face me. “I said ‘what?’.”
“Oh. Are you awake?”
“No, Veevie, I’m not.”
“Oh, right. What time is it?”
He checks his watch, which has somehow managed to survive. “Eleven seventeen in the pm.” He yawns and stretches. “Does your head still hurt?”
“Not as bad. What about you?”
“I’m okay, actually- I think I’m high on painkillers.”
I giggle. “Taylor?”
“Speaking.”
“Did I pass out before?”
“You mean, in the basement?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. You scared me- I thought you were dead.”
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“Yeah.”
“So did I. When I woke up I called your dad ‘Saint Peter’.”
Taylor cracks up. “You did not!”
“ I swear to God.”
We are both laughing now, and Pam Anderson is back in the room. “Guys, you need to keep it down in here.”
Taylor nods and flashes her a grin. “Sorry...um, I didn’t catch your name.”
“God help us,” I mutter.
“Val,” she says cheerfully. “And you’re Taylor?”
“And I’m Veevie!” I add with a smirk. “So now that we all know each other, we’ll keep it down, Hon, I promise.”
Val flashes me a slightly confused smile, waves to Taylor, and leaves the room.
“Meow,” comments Taylor. “I had no idea you had such a catty side, Veev.” He smirks at me. “Jealous much?”
“Of her ? You bet.”
Taylor leans back, putting his hands behind his head. “I’m serious. It kills you that I think she’s hot. Like it or not, Veevie, you want me.”
I snort. “Intensely, Taylor. Whaddaya say you come on over here and we do something about it?” I roll my eyes. “I think we should call Val back in here- your head has swelled to dangerous levels.”
“Uh-huh.” Taylor is silent for a few moments, and I close my eyes. “Veevie?”
“Yeah?”
“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
“Huh?”
“It’s the best way there is to get to know someone- find out the worst thing they’ve ever done.”
“Oh.” I pause. “I smoked a cigarette once, I guess. That’s pretty bad, right?” Taylor snorts, and I look over at him. “What? Were you expecting me to say I skinned a cat or something?” I prop myself up on one elbow. “What about you? What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
Taylor yawns again. “Oh, gosh, lemme think. I poured glue all over my brother’s hair once- my mom had to shave his head.”
I laugh, but cover my mouth when I hear Val’s footsteps coming down the hall. She recedes in the other direction. “We’re just a couple of rebels, aren’t we?”
“Everybody watch out for Veevie and Taylor.” He sings under his breath, “We massacre Indians, kill little boys...’ D’ya know where that’s from?”
“ ‘The Terrible Captain Hook,’ from Peter Pan. Challenge me here, Taylor!”
“Sorry, sorry. Okay. Um...’Don’t you know a kid always wins against two idiots?’”
“Macauley whats-his-name, Home Alone 2. You suck at this.” I smile. “Taylor, are you tired?” The question flies out of my mouth and I’m instantly reminded of sleepovers when I was little, when my friend Jen and I would go back and forth: “Are you tired?” “Well, are you?” “I asked you first,” and on and on and on.
“Why, are you?”
“I asked you first.”
“Sort of. But I don’t really want to sleep.”
“Me neither.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
Veevie?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For saving my bony little ass before.”
“Oh. You’re welcome.”
