Park Avenue Player(47)

But right now, I did need to be alone. I’d somehow managed not to lose control yesterday, kept my tears at bay at the service because I didn’t want prying eyes witnessing my grief. Being back in the emptiness of this house, staring at the bed where my mother took her final breaths with hospice by her side, was proving more difficult than I’d imagined. I needed to let go, and I wanted to do it alone.

As soon as Anna left, I collapsed onto Mom’s bed. Her pillow still smelled like her perfume. I buried my head in it and finally wept.

***

Screw this. I jumped out of bed, conceding to the fact that I couldn’t sleep. Throwing on my clothes, I decided to get some air.

I put one foot in front of the other and eventually ended up at the hospital. Not the most obvious place to go in the middle of the night, but nevertheless, here I was. Even though Mom wasn’t here anymore, it felt like this was where I needed to be. I’d gotten so used to visiting that it sort of felt like home, though it would surely be different now.

I headed down to the pediatric unit and wandered the desolate halls. The door to one of the rooms was open. I noticed a kid who was wide awake and sitting up in bed. I’d definitely never seen him here before. He must have been new and looked about thirteen.

He turned when he noticed me standing there.

After a few seconds, he asked, “Who are you?”

Who am I?

That was an interesting question, since lately I’d been trying to figure that out.

“I’m Hollis.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m lost, I guess.”

“Pretty sucky place to get lost. Are you sleepwalking or something?”

“Something like that.”

He gestured to the chair next to his bed. “You should sit. Take a load off.”

I shrugged. “Alright.”

The second my ass hit the seat, there was a loud vibration from beneath it that resembled the sound of flatulence. I shot up and saw it: a deflated whoopee cushion.

Little bastard.

The kid started cracking up. “I’ve had it there all day, and you’re the first one to fall for it.”

“I guess I should check where I sit from now on. Glad I could entertain you, though.”

“I gotta entertain myself, dude. No one else is gonna amuse me here, least of all those volunteers who come in and try to be funny. They’re not. You can’t make me laugh when you’re trying to make me laugh, you know? That’s so lame.”

I nodded. “I get that.”

“You know what makes me laugh? Stuff that’s not supposed to be funny, but just is—like the look on your face when you sat on that whoopee cushion, a split second of complete shock. Wish I could’ve snapped a photo of it.”

“I’m sort of glad you didn’t.”

“It’s the same thing when someone is laughing and accidentally farts. Not funny for them—at all—but really funny for me.”

I was glad I’d taken one for the team if it meant brightening this kid’s spirits.

“How about when someone trips?” I said. “Somehow that’s funny, even though it’s not supposed to be.”

“Falling down a flight of stairs? Even better.”

“You’re a little sadistic, you know that?” I chuckled. “What’s your name?”

“Jack.”

I lifted the flattened whoopee cushion off the seat and sat back down. “Nice to meet you…I think.”

“What are you really doing here?”

“My mother used to be at this hospital. And I’d sometimes come down and hang out here. Old habit.”

“Where is your mom now?”

I hesitated, not wanting to upset him. “She passed away.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“So you come back here and visit because you feel sorry for us?”

“Well, this is the first time I’ve been back, but no, just the opposite. I come here because I’ve met some really cool people. Being here also reminds me a little of my mom. But I came tonight because I wanted company.”

We spent the next hour playing a video game where Jack got to take out his sadistic side—on fake people this time.

When I looked over at the clock and saw it was 3AM, I stopped the game. “I better let you get some sleep.”

He sat up. “Will you come back sometime?”

“You’re not gonna play any more tricks on me, are you?”

Jack smiled. “I can’t promise that.”

Making him feel better made me feel better. Maybe this was how I’d be able to take my mind off losing Mom—by continuing to spend time here with the kids.

“How does tomorrow sound?”





Chapter 22




* * *





Elodie




Benito was funny.

I’d forced myself back to one of the online dating sites I’d used before, and he’d been the first guy to message me. Seeing his picture pop up on my phone, my immediate thought had been Ugh, I’m done with pretty boys. So I’d told him that. Which led to him sending me photos of his toes and an entire conversation about how ugly his feet were. Honestly, they really were pretty damn fugly.