Cemetery Street - Page 198/263

Shannie remained silent.

"You know," I turned to her. "You know who I am. You know what my life was like. You know what, what, what I said, what it means, don't you?"

Shannie nodded her head.

"Tell me. Please. Tell me what it means."

Shannie looked away and then back at me and away again. The corner of her mouth twitched, like when I first woke up in the hospital. Her eyes welled with tears and then she sighed.

"What? What is it?"

"Tell me what you know?" Shannie said.

"Goddamn it! Why can't you just tell me?" I pounded the bed with both fists.

Shannie rose. "I'll be right back." Her eyes held mine.

"Don't leave me?"

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

"Should I trust you?"

"If you know what's good for you," she said.

"I don't know who I am, how am I suppose to know what's good for me?"

"Figure it out."

"Are you serious? I can't figure out shit, I'm almost a sped."

"I'm serious as a heart attack." She paused. Leaning into me, she said: "If you ever call yourself a sped again, I'll beat you with a stick." She disappeared. I heard her voice over the hallway's din but couldn't make out her words. It was a while before she returned. Stepping into the room, she said: "Tomorrow you and I are taking a ride."

"What the fuck for?" Inside I rejoiced.

She leaned over me. "I don't care how pissy you get. You don't talk to me like that. Got it?"

My heart raced as I watched her hair dangle about her face.

"Got it?" she insisted. When I refused to answer she continued, "Listen James I'm not here for my health - I love you. But if you're gonna be an asshole, that's fine with me, I'll go home and you can spend tomorrow sitting in the dayroom watching the world go by." She knew what strings to pull.

"Got it," I whispered.

"Tomorrow you're getting a crash course on James Morrison."

I tossed and turned all night. I was horrified. I stared at the ceiling wondering what kind of person I was and the life I lived. Rediscovering truths about oneself is terrifying. I wasn't totally clueless, but there were too many mysteries. I viewed my life like a nervous driver viewing a foggy, vaguely familiar road.