I was in the hospital for two weeks.
During that time, Mom flew in; subsequently, Daddy and her came to talk to me. Unfortunately, I was still too upset with them to carry on a normal conversation. Stone suggested to them to wait until I was through soul searching before discussing what had taken place years ago before her conception. They agreed, and stopped visiting altogether. I don't know if Stone also had anything to do with that or not. Dr. Quest and Hadji checked in over the course of my stay and assisted with my physical therapy some while Jonny kept by my side 24/7.
On the day that I was discharged, Stone arrived at my private room with all the necessary paperwork.
"Shouldn't a nurse deliver this?" I asked.
"Special circumstances for a special person," he said. "These aren't filed in your typical manner, if you catch my drift. The La-Li-Lu-Le-Lo doesn't like leaving paper trails."
"How about all the medical bills?"
"Don't worry about it," Stone winked.
He provided me with a loose fitting cyan blue t-shirt, clean sets of underwear, a pair of blue jeans, and white Reeboks. After lacing up my sneakers, Stone handed me my pain medications.
"Doctor said to take these until their gone. You should make a full recovery in a few weeks," he said.
I looked at him, "Am I going home?"
"For a little while, Jessica."
"A little while? What the hell does that mean?"
Stone shook his head and walked off. Jonny assisted me to the elevator and down to the ground floor. Outside, the valet went and retrieved my Trans Am. The gleam from the fresh wax job hurt my eyes. Jonny opened the door as I slid inside onto the hot leather seat. Jonny took the keys from the valet attendant and climbed into the driver seat. As he cranked the car and put it into gear, I rested my head onto the headrest. I glanced up at the rearview and saw the neck of my guitar in the mirror. I looked into the backseat and found it along with the Bible Jonny had discovered days earlier before this nightmare began. Jonny took notice, and said, "Stone said that it'd probably be best if it traveled with us. He said in the event we take a break from the road, you'd have something to do."
I looked closer at the small leather-bound book, and said, "He left his gun, too?"
"Yeah, said that you've graduated to it. There's some more stuff in the trunk, too."
I nodded and reclined back into my seat. The sun brightly displayed the city of Shelby. I watched the many buildings and fast food restaurants pass by as we began our journey back north. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the pain that throbbed in my shoulder under the many bandages and stitches.
I woke up at about four o'clock in the morning. My sleep had been uninterrupted until this point when something jolted right through me. My mouth was dry, so I decided to make my way downstairs to the kitchen for a liquid of any sort. My jade-colored pajamas made a silent swishing sound as I made my way down the stairs and bee-lined it to the fridge. I opened up the stainless steel Kenmore and examined the contents inside. I pulled out one of Daddy's beers – Killian's Irish Red – and set it on the counter. By the time I got the cap off and took a swig, I heard myself thinking, "What the hell am I doing?"
The sour, bitter taste of lager swirled in my mouth and traveled down the back of my throat. I sat down at the kitchen table and began to nurse the bottle. By all means, it didn't taste like I had expected beer to taste. However, my body seemed to have a craving for it. One became two; two became three; finally I finished off the rest of Daddy's six-pack. I left the bottles sitting on the kitchen table and sleepily stumbled into the living room. The moon allowed some of its light into the room; I picked up my keys off the coffee table. I wasn't going to drive in my semi-drunken state: I just wanted to see what was in the trunk of my car. Jonny must've forgotten – or wanted to forget – what was lurking in the storage compartment. Whatever had driven me to wipe out Daddy's alcohol was now driving me to investigate what failed to make it into the house. Into the cool night air I briskly walked, using any stable object nearby for support. My Trans Am was parked out front in the circle. I made my way around to the back of the vehicle and fumbled with my keys and the trunk lock. On the fourth attempt, the trunk lid popped open and the interior light turned on. I rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes and glared at the sneaking suit neatly folded up inside. On top of it was a little handwritten note from Stone:
"Try not to lose this one. They're a bitch to replace. Stone."
A paperclip held some sort of admission ticket. I pulled it up into the light and read the title: U.S. SECURITIES EXCHANGE COMMISSION SPONSORED BALL TO CELEBRATE THE ELECTION OF MARSHALL GREER TO FEDERAL RESERVE BOARD.
No matter how far you run, you can never outrun yourself.
I closed my eyes and slammed the trunk shut.