"A what?" I nearly snapped, although I wasn't angry, just insanely freaked.
"It's for his legs. I've done it before…" she began.
"Why me?"
"It's your blood, honey. I've already tried mine, and his body has rejected it, but I figured since you have both mine and Zack's, it'll probably work because you're so strong. When Manticore designed me and Zack, they put what's called 'stem cells' into our blood to help to heal wounds quicker. Last time I tried it on Logan, he was able to walk for some time before his body rejected it. I want you to try." I looked at Logan, still sitting in his wheelchair, and I wondered what it would be like never to run, to walk, to truly live life to its fullest. Although I had only just met him, he seemed like a decent enough person, and something that I did might actually help him. Besides, what harm would come to me?
I shrugged. "What the hell, might as well try."
Mom smiled and ushered both Logan and I out into a kitchen like area. "Wait here," she told us, turned and left.
"Well…" I began, unsure of what to say. "Not exactly what I expected to do to get some quality bonding time, but sure, whatever."
He laughed, but didn't say anything.
"So, exactly how close were you and my mom?" I asked, trying to prod him for information.
"Close enough," was all he said before Mom burst back in, and the transfusion began.
I'm not a squeamish person by nature; things just don't bother me the way they do others. In fact, in biology class during dissection, I was the kid who would chop off the frog's leg and keep it as a good luck charm, pull out the fish's eye and put it in somebody's face…you get the point.
But, when I saw my own red blood draining into this man I barely even knew, I began to feel a little bit more than queasy. It was my blood, not any dead frog's, but mine. Laying my head down upon my arms, I watched the room spin around me. Oh God, had to stop this…had to tell Mom that things weren't looking that good…Logan…Mom…Dad?
I awoke on a comfortable couch, with enough stuffing to pull me down into it. Mom was sitting by my knees, applying a bandage to the area where the needle had been inserted. "Alanza? You okay?" she asked, worried.
Glancing quickly about the room, I noticed Logan sitting in his wheelchair, watching me intently. I looked back at Mom, making eye contact. "Yeah, never been better," I replied sarcastically and proceeded to sit up again. Unfortunately, with the upward movement, my head began to spin, and I cursed silently under my breath, irritated to have such a handicap.
"Just rest," Mom told me.
"But I don't want to rest."
"Just rest," she repeated, rising to her feet with a quick pat on my shoulder. She jerked her head slightly, silently asking Logan to follow her. He looked at me, nodded curtly, his own way of saying thanks-even if my blood wasn't super-powered-and left.
I laid on the couch, letting my right arm flop over my forehead as I gazed up at the ceiling, listening to the clock chime two. Could it really be two o'clock already?
Hearing the low chiming, I remembered my promise to meet James again back at the dance club. He was an interesting guy, really he was. But he was so protected, so utterly protective of his inner being. Ok, perhaps it was the fact that I had just met him-in a bar no less, and it was probably smart of him not to open up too much. He may have figured I was just some sober prostitute. Hey, it was possible for him to think that.
Yet, I still had a feeling that no matter how close a person would get to him, he would never be completely open. There was something about himself that he wasn't proud of.
Knock it off, I told myself. What? Did I really expect him to start talking all Dear Abbey with me? Start confessing his feelings?
And then there was Dad, who seemed as though he would rather die than confess his feelings. I wondered where he was. If he was in Canada, or Mexico, or if he was even in this hemisphere anymore. He came and left, seemingly caring about no one beside himself. Feelings, as far as I figured, were dead with Dad.
As I listened to Mom and Logan talk in the computer room, just a couple feet away, I smiled slightly to myself. Men. Did they ever confess their feelings?
