They painted up your secrets
With the lies they told to you
And the least they ever gave you
Was the most you ever knew
And I wonder where these dreams go
When the world gets in your way
What's the point in all this screaming?
No one's listening anyway
I stayed in my room for the rest of the night. My stereo played softly in the background. I'd made up my mind. Any information I could get on John Carter I would take. Any information I could get on Lucy Knight I would take. I was debating on running away, playing with the necklace my mom gave me, when I made a discovery. It wasn't a charm on the chain, it was a locket. I opened it and smiled. There was a picture of Lucy inside, smiling, happy. She was petite and blond and blue-eyed and sweet looking. She looked so young. And she died. I sighed. I decided I shouldn't run away. It would break my mother's heart and she's been through so much. But I was determined to learn about my real father and his old student. So I slept.
Your voice is small and fading
And you're hiding here alone
And your mother loves your father
Cuz she's got nowhere to go
And she wonders where these dreams go
Cuz the world got in her way
What's the point in ever trying?
Nothing's changing anyway
I awoke early the next morning, before my parents were awake. I crept out into the hallway and looked at my Mom's address book. I wrote down any names that might be of help. Dave Malucci, Jing-Mei Chen, Kerry Weaver, Susan Lewis, Peter Benton... I scrambled through the desk drawer. Surely there must be something in there-
"Wait a minute!" I whispered, finding a small book and taking it out. I opened it up. It had my Mom's address and Luka's so it couldn't have been either of theirs. I also saw names I'd never heard of as well as names I may have known. Anna DelAmico, Doug Ross, Carol Hathaway, Jeanie Boulet... I took this book and flipped to the first page again.
"Property of John Truman Carter," I sighed, "My Dad." I tucked the address book away, looked at my watch, which read 4:30, grabbed my skates, left a note, and was out of the house, listening to my CD, playing in my diskman.
They press their lips against you
And you love the lies they say
And I tried so hard to reach you
But your falling anyway
And you know I see right through you
'Cause the world gets in your way
What's the point in all the screaming
You're not listening anyway
I bladed down the street with ease. I had been inline skating for four years. I skated around for a while until I came to a Starbucks coffee place at 6:00. They were just opening. I took off my skates and went inside.
"Gracious, you're up early! What could I get you?" the woman behind the counter asked me.
"A cappuccino please, with a blueberry muffin," I asked. She smiled at me and gave me what I wanted. I paid her the money and took a seat by the window. It was still dark. The sun didn't rise early in January. The streets were pretty quiet. Only a few cars passed and a few early birds were out jogging or biking. But not many. It was Saturday and most people would be sleeping in. I sipped my coffee, lost in thought.
I figured I'd go see Jing-Mei Chen first. I knew her fairly well and I thought she might be the easiest to talk to. After Jing-Mei, I'd visit Dave Malucci to find out what he knew. Then, I'd pay a visit to Peter and Cleo. I could say hi to Reese while I was there. After them, Kerry Weaver was next on my list. Lastly, I'd see Susan Lewis.
I wished I could go to Seattle and talk to Kate and Tess and Doug and Carol. But my parents would forbid it. I figured I'd call them on the phone. I had a busy day ahead of me.
When I was finished with my small breakfast, I set off to see Jing-Mei.
"Why Lucy, what a surprise!" she smiled and let me in.
"Hello," I smiled kindly back.
"Please have a seat." I did so, "I haven't seen you or your parents for a while. How are they?"
"You mean my mother and the person I thought my father was?" I asked. Jing-Mei's face fell.
"I suppose they told you?" she asked, "About your father?"
"If you mean the fact that my real Dad's dead then yes, they did tell me," I must have sounded colder than I intended. I was still angry about their lies. I apologized.
"It's OK," she told me, "I can understand why you're angry. So why did you come by? Surely it couldn't have been for no reason."
"Actually, I came to find out about my father," I answered her, truthfully and added, "My real father."
"Yes," she nodded, "John Carter." She sighed, sadly, mentioning his name.
"What do you know about my father?"
"He was a great man, smart, kind, giving. He was cute, too. He would have been a prize for any woman. I had a crush on him. We went out for a while and weren't we a pair? But he was in love with Abby, not me, and I was sad to let him go. But we stayed friends and he held a special place in my heart. I miss him."
"There must be something more. What happened after the attack?"
"The attack?" Jing-Mei asked. She sounded surprised that I knew about it, "Do you mean... the one on Valentine's Day?"
"All I know was it was in February. But Valentines Day?" I asked. She nodded.
"To this day, a couple of us pay our respects on that day. To both John and Lucy."
"Wow, that's terrible," I sighed. I would never think of the day in the same way, "How did it come about?"
"Well," Jing-Mei began, "It all started when Lucy picked up Paul Sobriki's chart, I suppose..."
I sat there hanging on every word to her account of the story. I would force Luka's account out as well as my Mom's. I wasn't heartless or cruel and I respected when people felt uncomfortable with a subject and usually never moved on. But I was changing for some reason at this point in my life and I was determined to find answers. I would stop at nothing, even courtesy and consideration wouldn't get in my way. I was as vicious as a hunter was and I would touch every button if I needed to in order to get all the information I could. I have no idea why I was so stubborn. It must have been my anger... Or was it?
Something odd was going on recently. James, my boyfriend and I had just gotten into a fight. We were arguing. And recently, I'd been having nightmares about various things. As I listened to Jing-Mei's story, I remembered my most recent one.
My eyes were wide open, staring at the man across from me on the floor, bleeding as I was. I saw his eyes wide with terror like mine. I saw his hand drop a silver necklace into the growing pool of crimson liquid around us. I was drowning in it. Choking and gasping for breath in the horrible thickness of the blood. All I could see was red now. I heard the knife clatter and I heard a voice that was not my own start screaming inside my head.
"Lucy?" Jing-Mei asked. I blinked.
"Hm?"
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, fine," I answered, "So you say John blamed himself for it. That's interesting."
"Yes. But in May, Abby caught him... well..."
"Drugs?" I asked.
"Yes."
"I figured," I nodded, "And what happened?"
"He was shipped to Atlanta." Jing-Mei told me.
"Is there anything after that? When he got back? Was he still depressed about Lucy?" I asked.
"Come to think of it," Jing-Mei thought, "When he came back, we didn't really speak about her at all, really. I don't mean to sound like I didn't care, but I didn't really think about her either."
"What about the next Valentine's Day? Did you talk about her then?" Jing-Mei frowned, troubled.
"That's the odd part. No, we didn't. We mentioned the accident, I think, and asked Carter if he was OK, but Lucy didn't come up at all. I suppose, though, that she was on everyone's minds that day."
"Why do you think you didn't talk about her?"
"Well," she answered, "I think at first I didn't mention her out of courtesy for Carter. I didn't want him relapsing or anything. It may sound silly, but I thought that Lucy's name may have given him the urge to take something. So I said nothing about her or the addiction and he didn't say anything in return. Eventually, I didn't really think of Lucy at all after that. It's like it had never happened. Except that it had. Lucy had worked at the ER even though everyone went around pretending she hadn't. Lucy had come into work on Valentine's Day, even though people pretended it didn't matter. Lucy did treat Paul Sobriki and Lucy had tried to tell Carter that he was schizophrenic, even though people pretended to have forgotten. And Lucy had been killed because of it, even though people pretended she hadn't existed in the first place.
"It didn't matter, though. Everyone went on working, pretending and believing Lucy Knight had never been there. When I think back on it now, I realize it was an insult to her memory and Lucy herself. But it made everyone happy to 'pretend' that that was the way they continued. You know..." Jing-Mei stopped.
"What?" I asked.
"It was the fourth of June, I think," Jing-Mei nodded, "Yes. He told me he was going to go get a drink. He said he had to get away from the hospital. I agreed. As he left, he let dropped a book. I tried to call after him to give it back, but he didn't hear me. I didn't open it, I figured I'd give it to him when he came back. Except he never did. He got in a car accident on the way back. We didn't find any alcohol in his system, but something had been wrong. After the funeral, I put the book in a drawer and never looked at it again." She stood up and walked over to a desk. She opened a drawer and dug through it to find a notebook. She gave it to me.
"I think you should open it. It was your father's, anyway." I opened the book and saw some writing on the first page.
They act as if she isn't here. Or wasn't here. Or whatever. They act as if they'd never known her. They act as if they never think about her. I think about her. Too often. And it hurts me that they don't and I'm sure it hurts her too.
A patient called Lucy came in today. No one reacted. I did. She had bright blue eyes. No one saw it. I did. Even if someone had just casually remarked, or cruelly teased me, it would have shown me that they noticed, that they cared. A "Hey, Carter, does she remind you of someone?" or "Carter, the way she smiles reminds me of Lucy," would have been all I needed, really. But no one said anything. No one even seemed concerned that I might see something of her in the patient. They acted as if it were any other patient. Maybe that's the way I should act. But I don't deserve to. Lucy doesn't deserve that. I'm off the drugs now. I'm sober again and I'm going to stay that way. But that doesn't mean I'll forget her like everyone else has. As long as there is someone in this hospital that thinks of her, that someone is keeping her alive. Unfortunately, that someone's me.
That was all that was written. I flipped through the rest of the book. Blank pages. I sighed.
"Not mentioning Lucy only made the pain worse," I told Jing-Mei sadly. She took the book and read it herself.
"Oh dear," she sighed.
"Do you know anyone else that might help me?"
"Do you have an idea already?" she asked me.
"I was thinking of going to see Dave. It's a pity you two didn't work out. You were a great couple."
"Don't I know it?" Jing-Mei laughed, "But no. He needs his space. I need time. Maybe in time we'll get together again."
"Don't procrastinate too long, or he'll slip through your fingers," I seemed to know that too well. As if I'd done it before.
"That's good advice, Lucy, good advice indeed."
With the lies they told to you
And the least they ever gave you
Was the most you ever knew
And I wonder where these dreams go
When the world gets in your way
What's the point in all this screaming?
No one's listening anyway
I stayed in my room for the rest of the night. My stereo played softly in the background. I'd made up my mind. Any information I could get on John Carter I would take. Any information I could get on Lucy Knight I would take. I was debating on running away, playing with the necklace my mom gave me, when I made a discovery. It wasn't a charm on the chain, it was a locket. I opened it and smiled. There was a picture of Lucy inside, smiling, happy. She was petite and blond and blue-eyed and sweet looking. She looked so young. And she died. I sighed. I decided I shouldn't run away. It would break my mother's heart and she's been through so much. But I was determined to learn about my real father and his old student. So I slept.
Your voice is small and fading
And you're hiding here alone
And your mother loves your father
Cuz she's got nowhere to go
And she wonders where these dreams go
Cuz the world got in her way
What's the point in ever trying?
Nothing's changing anyway
I awoke early the next morning, before my parents were awake. I crept out into the hallway and looked at my Mom's address book. I wrote down any names that might be of help. Dave Malucci, Jing-Mei Chen, Kerry Weaver, Susan Lewis, Peter Benton... I scrambled through the desk drawer. Surely there must be something in there-
"Wait a minute!" I whispered, finding a small book and taking it out. I opened it up. It had my Mom's address and Luka's so it couldn't have been either of theirs. I also saw names I'd never heard of as well as names I may have known. Anna DelAmico, Doug Ross, Carol Hathaway, Jeanie Boulet... I took this book and flipped to the first page again.
"Property of John Truman Carter," I sighed, "My Dad." I tucked the address book away, looked at my watch, which read 4:30, grabbed my skates, left a note, and was out of the house, listening to my CD, playing in my diskman.
They press their lips against you
And you love the lies they say
And I tried so hard to reach you
But your falling anyway
And you know I see right through you
'Cause the world gets in your way
What's the point in all the screaming
You're not listening anyway
I bladed down the street with ease. I had been inline skating for four years. I skated around for a while until I came to a Starbucks coffee place at 6:00. They were just opening. I took off my skates and went inside.
"Gracious, you're up early! What could I get you?" the woman behind the counter asked me.
"A cappuccino please, with a blueberry muffin," I asked. She smiled at me and gave me what I wanted. I paid her the money and took a seat by the window. It was still dark. The sun didn't rise early in January. The streets were pretty quiet. Only a few cars passed and a few early birds were out jogging or biking. But not many. It was Saturday and most people would be sleeping in. I sipped my coffee, lost in thought.
I figured I'd go see Jing-Mei Chen first. I knew her fairly well and I thought she might be the easiest to talk to. After Jing-Mei, I'd visit Dave Malucci to find out what he knew. Then, I'd pay a visit to Peter and Cleo. I could say hi to Reese while I was there. After them, Kerry Weaver was next on my list. Lastly, I'd see Susan Lewis.
I wished I could go to Seattle and talk to Kate and Tess and Doug and Carol. But my parents would forbid it. I figured I'd call them on the phone. I had a busy day ahead of me.
When I was finished with my small breakfast, I set off to see Jing-Mei.
"Why Lucy, what a surprise!" she smiled and let me in.
"Hello," I smiled kindly back.
"Please have a seat." I did so, "I haven't seen you or your parents for a while. How are they?"
"You mean my mother and the person I thought my father was?" I asked. Jing-Mei's face fell.
"I suppose they told you?" she asked, "About your father?"
"If you mean the fact that my real Dad's dead then yes, they did tell me," I must have sounded colder than I intended. I was still angry about their lies. I apologized.
"It's OK," she told me, "I can understand why you're angry. So why did you come by? Surely it couldn't have been for no reason."
"Actually, I came to find out about my father," I answered her, truthfully and added, "My real father."
"Yes," she nodded, "John Carter." She sighed, sadly, mentioning his name.
"What do you know about my father?"
"He was a great man, smart, kind, giving. He was cute, too. He would have been a prize for any woman. I had a crush on him. We went out for a while and weren't we a pair? But he was in love with Abby, not me, and I was sad to let him go. But we stayed friends and he held a special place in my heart. I miss him."
"There must be something more. What happened after the attack?"
"The attack?" Jing-Mei asked. She sounded surprised that I knew about it, "Do you mean... the one on Valentine's Day?"
"All I know was it was in February. But Valentines Day?" I asked. She nodded.
"To this day, a couple of us pay our respects on that day. To both John and Lucy."
"Wow, that's terrible," I sighed. I would never think of the day in the same way, "How did it come about?"
"Well," Jing-Mei began, "It all started when Lucy picked up Paul Sobriki's chart, I suppose..."
I sat there hanging on every word to her account of the story. I would force Luka's account out as well as my Mom's. I wasn't heartless or cruel and I respected when people felt uncomfortable with a subject and usually never moved on. But I was changing for some reason at this point in my life and I was determined to find answers. I would stop at nothing, even courtesy and consideration wouldn't get in my way. I was as vicious as a hunter was and I would touch every button if I needed to in order to get all the information I could. I have no idea why I was so stubborn. It must have been my anger... Or was it?
Something odd was going on recently. James, my boyfriend and I had just gotten into a fight. We were arguing. And recently, I'd been having nightmares about various things. As I listened to Jing-Mei's story, I remembered my most recent one.
My eyes were wide open, staring at the man across from me on the floor, bleeding as I was. I saw his eyes wide with terror like mine. I saw his hand drop a silver necklace into the growing pool of crimson liquid around us. I was drowning in it. Choking and gasping for breath in the horrible thickness of the blood. All I could see was red now. I heard the knife clatter and I heard a voice that was not my own start screaming inside my head.
"Lucy?" Jing-Mei asked. I blinked.
"Hm?"
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, fine," I answered, "So you say John blamed himself for it. That's interesting."
"Yes. But in May, Abby caught him... well..."
"Drugs?" I asked.
"Yes."
"I figured," I nodded, "And what happened?"
"He was shipped to Atlanta." Jing-Mei told me.
"Is there anything after that? When he got back? Was he still depressed about Lucy?" I asked.
"Come to think of it," Jing-Mei thought, "When he came back, we didn't really speak about her at all, really. I don't mean to sound like I didn't care, but I didn't really think about her either."
"What about the next Valentine's Day? Did you talk about her then?" Jing-Mei frowned, troubled.
"That's the odd part. No, we didn't. We mentioned the accident, I think, and asked Carter if he was OK, but Lucy didn't come up at all. I suppose, though, that she was on everyone's minds that day."
"Why do you think you didn't talk about her?"
"Well," she answered, "I think at first I didn't mention her out of courtesy for Carter. I didn't want him relapsing or anything. It may sound silly, but I thought that Lucy's name may have given him the urge to take something. So I said nothing about her or the addiction and he didn't say anything in return. Eventually, I didn't really think of Lucy at all after that. It's like it had never happened. Except that it had. Lucy had worked at the ER even though everyone went around pretending she hadn't. Lucy had come into work on Valentine's Day, even though people pretended it didn't matter. Lucy did treat Paul Sobriki and Lucy had tried to tell Carter that he was schizophrenic, even though people pretended to have forgotten. And Lucy had been killed because of it, even though people pretended she hadn't existed in the first place.
"It didn't matter, though. Everyone went on working, pretending and believing Lucy Knight had never been there. When I think back on it now, I realize it was an insult to her memory and Lucy herself. But it made everyone happy to 'pretend' that that was the way they continued. You know..." Jing-Mei stopped.
"What?" I asked.
"It was the fourth of June, I think," Jing-Mei nodded, "Yes. He told me he was going to go get a drink. He said he had to get away from the hospital. I agreed. As he left, he let dropped a book. I tried to call after him to give it back, but he didn't hear me. I didn't open it, I figured I'd give it to him when he came back. Except he never did. He got in a car accident on the way back. We didn't find any alcohol in his system, but something had been wrong. After the funeral, I put the book in a drawer and never looked at it again." She stood up and walked over to a desk. She opened a drawer and dug through it to find a notebook. She gave it to me.
"I think you should open it. It was your father's, anyway." I opened the book and saw some writing on the first page.
They act as if she isn't here. Or wasn't here. Or whatever. They act as if they'd never known her. They act as if they never think about her. I think about her. Too often. And it hurts me that they don't and I'm sure it hurts her too.
A patient called Lucy came in today. No one reacted. I did. She had bright blue eyes. No one saw it. I did. Even if someone had just casually remarked, or cruelly teased me, it would have shown me that they noticed, that they cared. A "Hey, Carter, does she remind you of someone?" or "Carter, the way she smiles reminds me of Lucy," would have been all I needed, really. But no one said anything. No one even seemed concerned that I might see something of her in the patient. They acted as if it were any other patient. Maybe that's the way I should act. But I don't deserve to. Lucy doesn't deserve that. I'm off the drugs now. I'm sober again and I'm going to stay that way. But that doesn't mean I'll forget her like everyone else has. As long as there is someone in this hospital that thinks of her, that someone is keeping her alive. Unfortunately, that someone's me.
That was all that was written. I flipped through the rest of the book. Blank pages. I sighed.
"Not mentioning Lucy only made the pain worse," I told Jing-Mei sadly. She took the book and read it herself.
"Oh dear," she sighed.
"Do you know anyone else that might help me?"
"Do you have an idea already?" she asked me.
"I was thinking of going to see Dave. It's a pity you two didn't work out. You were a great couple."
"Don't I know it?" Jing-Mei laughed, "But no. He needs his space. I need time. Maybe in time we'll get together again."
"Don't procrastinate too long, or he'll slip through your fingers," I seemed to know that too well. As if I'd done it before.
"That's good advice, Lucy, good advice indeed."