Prom Night in Purgatory (Slow Dance in P)

~2~

And a Time to Every Purpose



2011



Everyone was calling him John Doe. He had stayed silent the first few times he had awakened. At first it was because he didn’t know where the hell he was. Shoot, he didn’t know WHO the hell he was. He had fallen back into oblivion before he’d had time to ponder anything at all. The next time he was awake for longer. The first thing he was truly aware of was pain. He hurt everywhere, like he had been run over by Gene’s tow truck. Gene. He remembered Gene. And little Harv. He’d drifted off to sleep not long after, reassured by the fact that he remembered something and someone. When he woke up again, a woman sat by his bed. The room was dark and no one but the two of them sat amid the bleeping machines that looked like the robots from one of the programs on the television Jimbo’s dad had purchased and now proudly displayed in his living room. Jimbo’s pop had positioned the set right in front of the windows so everyone who lived on the block would know he had a TV. He left the windows opened when he watched, and sometimes the kids playing ball in the street would abandon their games and listen outside. Johnny had been able to watch it a couple of times. Sometimes the whole neighborhood came over to watch the thing.

At first he thought the woman was his mother. As soon as the thought occurred to him, his mother’s face rose up in his mind. The glow of the lights was hardly sufficient to make out the woman’s features, but there was something very like his mother in the way she sat, her head nodding in sleep, her neck bowed gracefully in tired supplication. It wasn’t until a nurse came in and snapped on the light to check his vitals and poke at him that he saw that the woman was not his momma after all. She was wearing men’s pants, and her hair was styled in a boyish cut. The nurse also wore pants….when did that become the norm? Hmmm. He didn’t care for it. He had always kind of liked a nurse’s uniform; there was something sexy about it. The woman sleeping in the chair bolted straight up and met his gaze in alarm.

“You’re awake.” Her eyes shot to the nurse. The nurse didn’t seem too surprised by Johnny’s wakefulness and proceeded to ask him how he felt, if he struggled to breathe, if he thought he could sit up, and a million other mundane things. The nurse was young and pretty, and he smirked at her a little, testing her out. She raised one eyebrow at him disdainfully, and told him she was going to remove his catheter. With a toss of his covers, she unmanned him with a yank.

“Ouch!” Johnny roared. His manhood lay quivering for the lucky females in the room to enjoy. He jerked the blankets back over himself and glowered at the nurse, who fought a slight smile. Gee whiz. The woman had just grabbed his handle without batting an eye. She hadn’t even given him time to give her a better first impression. Ah well. She was too old for him. He liked them a little more timid anyway, didn’t he? Something nagged at him. A memory of someone…and then it was gone, dissolved into the muddle that clogged his heavy head. He was suddenly dizzy, and the woman who had been sleeping beside his bed jumped up to help him lie back. The nurse patted his leg. Oh, now she was being nice. Too late, sweetheart. She made a few notes and looked up at him again.

“The doctor will be in shortly. Do you think you can stay awake?” When he nodded, she walked out of the room without another word.

As soon as she was gone, the woman beside him began to speak.

“What’s your name?” Her voice was calm, but there was a hint of urgency in her tone that forced him to meet her sharp gaze.

“Johnny. Johnny Kinross.” It was out of his mouth before he realized that he even knew his name. Johnny. Yeah. That was it. Johnny Kinross. And his mom’s name was Dolly and his kid brother was Billy, and he had the coolest car in the county. And he needed a cigarette in the worst way.

A sharp breath hissed out her parted lips, and her hands gripped the rails on his bed tightly.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The urgency was more pronounced now, and Johnny tried to focus. His head had gained at least 100 pounds since he’d opened his eyes ten minutes ago. He was getting tired again. He focused on what she had asked him. He was obviously in a hospital. Some new-fangled fancy hospital, which looked like something from outer space. Maybe he wasn’t completely awake after all. Why was he here? His chest hurt like the dickens. He raised his left hand and fingered the bandages on his right shoulder.

“Did I get banged up at the rumble? Me and the guys were outnumbered pretty good.” Johnny grimaced, closing his eyes, trying to remember. “Roger Carlton is a snake….”

The woman beside the bed was very pale, and her hands had started to shake, making the bars rattle. She immediately let go and folded her arms tightly around herself.

“Do you remember anything after the…..the rumble?”

Johnny shook his head a little, but his thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. The woman beside him looked as if she would faint where she stood. The doctor seemed to be talking to someone on the other side of the door and was delayed from entering. The woman crouched down very close to Johnny and whispered vehemently.

“Don’t tell him anything!” Her eyes were so wide they looked almost comical in her thin face. “Tell the doctor you don’t remember your name or anything about yourself or how you got hurt. I promise I’ll explain…”

The doctor walked into the room, and she ceased whispering abruptly. The doctor had obviously just come on shift. His hair was slightly damp and his cheeks were ruddy from a recent shave. He smelled like aftershave and antiseptic. A not unpleasant combination, Johnny found. He had a reassuring face and a kind demeanor as he inquired about Johnny’s pain levels and checked the wound at his shoulder. He had a chart that he studied for several minutes. When his eyes were averted the woman leaned forward again and this time took Johnny’s hand in hers. Her hand was small and as cold as ice. She squeezed his hand tightly, as if to remind him of what she had said. The doctor looked up again.

“What’s your name?”





Maggie was weak and sore, and too many people hovered and fussed. Irene, Shad, and Gus took turns entertaining her with one-sided conversation to give her smoke-charred throat continued time to heal. She was grateful, in spite of the pain, that she had an excuse to refrain from speech. If she could have, she would have howled with frustration at her weakened state and the conditions that kept her from seeing Johnny. Whenever she got him alone, Gus continued to make excuses as to why she couldn’t see Johnny. He told her Johnny was awake now, and reports were that he would make a full recovery. In fact, he was healing so rapidly, his doctors were amazed. When Maggie pressed Gus for more, he claimed he knew nothing. He told her no one except Principal Bailey, Gus, Maggie and Irene knew about Johnny’s identity. Shad had some memory of being rescued, but Gus had refrained from explaining anything to him. Gus reassured her that soon both she and Johnny would be released from the hospital, and she would be able to see him then.

“The fewer explanations that have to be given, the better,” Gus warned Maggie. “He can’t exactly tell everyone he’s Johnny Kinross. They’d think he was crazy. Mind you, they’d think all of us are crazy. The best thing we can do for him is to let Principal Bailey do the talkin’ and just stay silent and not draw attention to him. She’s been around the system long enough to know what strings to pull – workin’ with kids as long as she has. She’s gonna coach him through, don’t you worry.”

And so Maggie waited. Three days after she had awakened from her coma, she could wait no longer. That night she bided her time until the nurse on the night shift left her desk. She had been checked on mere minutes before – at night the staff was much more laid back, the rounds fewer and farther between. She figured she would have sufficient time to see Johnny, talk to him, reassure him, and make it back to her room without detection.

Gus had told her what room Johnny was in. She had wheedled it out of him, promising that she would wait for his go ahead. She was breaking her promise. She just couldn’t wait any more. She had to see him for herself. She’d had the sneaking fear that it was all just a grand story to pull her back among the living. She was certain that when she was sufficiently healed, Gus would confess that he had concocted the tale for her own good. She had accused him of as much; that accusation finally convinced Gus to tell her where Johnny was recovering. It was only four doors down.

Her heart in her throat, Maggie padded down the hall in bare feet, a robe Irene had brought from home wrapped around her flimsy hospital gown. She had brushed her hair and teeth, but she knew her blue eyes looked too big in her face and her skin was too pale in the fluorescent lights. Nerves skittered under her skin. Johnny was free now. He could go anywhere and do anything. Would he want to be with her still? Would he look at her straight brown hair and big glasses and think he could do so much better than a girl like Maggie? She squared her shoulders and shook off the self-doubt. The door to his room pushed open easily. The bed was perpendicular to the door, and the curtain was partially pulled at the head, making it impossible to see who occupied the space. Maggie froze.

“Johnny?” she whispered. Her heart was pounding so loudly she doubted she would hear him if he responded. “Johnny? Are you awake?” She forced her feet forward and approached the base of his bed. The bed squeaked suddenly, causing her to yelp. Maggie could see that the person occupying it struggled to sit up. A whirring sound commenced and the bed moved, the upper half lifting and halting in an upright position. She still couldn’t see his face; the hanging curtain blocked her view from mid-chest up. She tiptoed to the side of the bed and, holding her breath, looked down into his face.

She had wondered if she would be able to see him with her glasses on, or if, like before, he would be visible only when she took them off. However, even with her glasses perched in their usual position on her small nose, Johnny was crystal clear. His hair was pushed off his face, like he had run his hands through it repeatedly. She was a little shocked to see him looking less than perfect – he had never had even a stray hair before. Now it stood up in little tufts at his crown, and his face was creased from sleeping. But that face…it was the same. The same strong jaw and well-formed lips, the same slashing brows and perfect nose. The same piercing blue eyes. Those eyes regarded her now as she regarded him. For a moment, gazing down at his beloved face, she forgot her awkwardness and fear, and she drank him in, every precious detail. She felt her face split into a grin so wide that her dry, cracked lips protested painfully. She pressed her hands to them to ease the sharp pain and soothe their sudden trembling. A sob tore from her throat, and Maggie wondered briefly at the unpredictability of female emotion – smiling like an idiot one moment and holding back sobs the next. She fell to her knees beside the bed and pressed her face against the arm that was unencumbered by his I.V. For several long moments she cried, resting her face against his warm skin and pressing soft kisses into his palm. He made no move to pull away and said nothing but sat silently as she eventually calmed the storm of tears and spoke again.

“Johnny?” She spoke again, her voice shaking with emotion. “You’re here. I thought I had lost you.” She gripped his arm and raised her eyes to his once more. Slowly, Maggie’s euphoria drenched senses started registering several things at once. First, Johnny didn’t seem overjoyed to see her. Second, his stare wasn’t hostile…but it was guarded and very tense, his lips pressed into a tight line, a deep groove between his brows. She could tell he was waiting for her to continue.

“Johnny?” This was the third time she had spoken his name in the very same manner, but he had yet to move or respond. Something was very wrong. Maggie’s hands fell to her sides. She backed away a step. His eyes stayed fixed on her face as he watched her retreat. Maggie felt the tears well up in her eyes again, but this time for an entirely different reason. This wasn’t the reunion she had imagined.

The door behind Maggie swung open suddenly, and Maggie turned guiltily, coming face to face with Principal Bailey. Maggie couldn’t see her expression; the light behind her threw shadows across her face as she halted in the doorway, clearly surprised to find Maggie in the room. Jillian Bailey looked beyond Maggie to Johnny, lying as still as a corpse, watching the drama unfolding in front of him. She looked back at Maggie, and then leaned over and turned on the light, illuminating the room in a wash of fluorescent white.

“Hello Margaret,” Principal Bailey said in her very official school administrator’s voice.

“Principal Bailey,” Maggie responded, equally deferential and polite. She tried not to hunch or reach up to wipe her eyes or rub the tear streaks from her cheeks. Doing so would only draw attention to them and further alert the woman of her distress. Jillian Bailey’s eyes ran from the top of Maggie’s head to her colorfully painted toes. Shad had insisted on painting them purple, gold and green, in honor of the Lakers, and not only was he horrible at staying within the lines, the colors made her toenails look like he had beaten them with a hammer. She curled her toes self-consciously.

“Have a seat, Margaret…or should I call you Maggie?” Principal Bailey’s voice had softened, and Maggie was suddenly certain that the woman didn’t miss much. She nodded her head toward a chair not far from Johnny’s bed and pulled another from the wall, creating an intimate little half circle with the bed. Maggie looked down at her toes, wishing this episode of the Twilight Zone was over. She sat primly on the edge of the chair and folded her hands in her lap, locking her fingers tightly to keep them from shaking.

“Maggie would be fine,” Maggie replied belatedly, as Principal Bailey slid into the chair beside her. Maggie stole another look at Johnny, but his face looked carved in stone, his hands lying loosely on the blankets in front of him. What was going on?? Maggie suddenly wanted to shake him or pull at his rumpled hair, anything to shake the frozen look from his face.

“Johnny, this is Margaret O’Bannon – Maggie,” Principal Bailey said briskly. “She’s recovering from the fire as well. She’s a senior at Honeyville High School this year and a very accomplished dancer.” Maggie’s head started to spin. Why was Principal Bailey acting like it wasn’t one o’clock in the morning in a hospital room, like Maggie hadn’t been caught somewhere she had no logical reason to be, and acting like Johnny Kinross was a new student in need of someone to show him to his homeroom class?

“Maggie,” she continued, “This is Johnny – “

“I know who he is!” Maggie interrupted sharply, her eyes flashing to meet Jillian Bailey’s startled gaze. “You know that, don’t you? I know exactly who he is.” Maggie lifted her chin stubbornly and crossed her arms. Enough of this charade.

Johnny still wasn’t saying anything, but his eyes had narrowed and his hands now gripped the rails alongside his bed.

“So who am I?” He queried slowly. The hair on Maggie’s arms rose and a shudder ran through her. His voice taunted her with memories of sweet words and quiet declarations. She steeled herself and met his eyes, confusion coloring her voice.

“You are Johnny Kinross.”

“And how do we know each other……Margaret?” Maggie gasped sharply. Did he mean to be cruel? Or was he hesitant to reveal himself in front of the woman who watched them in fascination?

“Don’t you remember?” She stared at him, willing herself not to betray her devastation. He held her stare silently for several long breaths, and then shook his head once. No. He didn’t remember.

“Tell me!” His voice was sharp now, as hers had been minutes before. She stared at him mutely, stunned heat spreading from the pit of her belly to the tips of her fingers. How in the world do you tell someone what he is to you…when he is your whole world? How do you tell him you love him – and that he loved you – when he can’t seem to remember your name? Maggie was going to be sick. She struggled to her feet, the room spinning and the fear inside her clawing to get out.

“TELL ME!!!” Johnny roared suddenly, his face contorting in anger. Maggie flinched as if he had struck her, and she reached toward him instinctively, unsure of whether to ward him off or pull him close. Jillian Bailey jumped to her feet and grabbed Johnny’s hands. He pulled them from her viciously and looked at Maggie again. He pointed at her.

“You know me? You tell me everything you know!” He was no longer shouting, but his voice was emphatic and his eyes were bright with feeling. The finger he leveled at her shook, and he dropped his hands back into his lap, shaking his head with obvious despair.

The door flew open behind them, and all three of them jerked to guilty attention.

“What are you people doin’ in here? And what’s all the yellin’ about!!” A small black nurse flew into the room, shoes squeaking and arms akimbo. She rushed to Johnny’s bedside and started looking at his monitors and fussing over him like there had been a murder attempt.

“His heart is racing!! It’s the middle of the night, and ya’ll are havin’ a tea party in here?” She looked at Maggie, stuck out her lips, and furrowed her thin black brow. “And what do you think you’re doin’ in here, Missy? Visitin’ hours are way past…and you belong a few doors down, if memory serves!”

“Please,” Jillian Bailey jumped into the fray, “Maggie has been asking to see Johnny for days, and everyone has denied her. He saved her life when the school burned down. She wanted to say thank you and make sure he was okay, right Maggie?”

Maggie nodded emphatically, keeping her eyes averted from Johnny’s face. It was all she could do not to run shrieking from the room.

“I found her in here, but I didn’t have the heart to turn her away. I’ll take her back to her room myself in just a minute. Please, Tima?” Jillian Bailey was in full appeal mode now.

Tima harrumphed and shook her head, making the loops at her ears jangle cheerfully. “Five minutes…you hear, Jillian? And don’t think I don’t know what you’re doin’ when you start going all ‘Please Tima’ on me…” She winked at Jillian to take the punch out of her words and marched out of the room, tossing a hand toward the three of them as if to say “go ahead, I’m through with you.” The door swooshed closed behind her.

“Fatima and I were friends in high school,” Jillian explained inanely, although no explanation had been requested. Johnny was frozen in stony silence, and Maggie was clinging to her composure with shaking fingers. “I tutored her through English, and she tutored me through math. She never let anyone call her Tima, as far as I know….except me.” Jillian smirked a little, and for a minute Maggie saw the resemblance between Johnny and his sister. It was fleeting, but it was there in the way she held her mouth.

Silence descended on the room again, and Maggie felt Johnny’s eyes on her like a physical weight. She turned to Jillian desperately.

“How did you know Johnny saved me from the fire?” Her words came out like an accusation, but it was meant more for the boy in the bed than the woman at her side.

“Gus,” Principal Bailey answered succinctly. “He told me that Johnny had found Shad and was carrying him on his shoulder when Gus went into the school. If not for Johnny, Shad would have most certainly died. No one would have found him in that locker.” She paused and looked at Johnny as if trying to impress what she was saying upon his memory. Then she looked at Maggie. “Gus said you told him that Johnny carried you out as well.” She waited for Maggie to pick up the telling of the story.

Maggie nodded briefly. The memory of being swept up in Johnny’s arms felt like a mirage, but she clung to it. “He did carry me out! You did!” She looked at Johnny fiercely then, daring him to disagree. “I didn’t want to leave you. I told you to let me stay with you. But you carried me out. I don’t know how, but you did.” Johnny was unfazed by his own heroics. He shook his head once, negating her words.

Maggie gagged on the emotion in her throat, and her eyes began to sting at the indignity of it all. Why did he keep shaking his head? If you truly loved someone, how could you forget?

“You don’t remember me? You don’t remember anything at all?” Her voice shook, and her stomach heaved in dread.

It was his turn to be fierce, and she could see he struggled to rein in his temper. “I remember everything just fine! I remember going to the new school looking for Roger Carlton. There was a bunch of kids all gathered to see a fight – but Roger Carlton didn’t want to fight fair. He set up a little ambush. He messed up my car. I remember Billy running down the hallway waving that damn gun. I remember Billy yelling out. I remember going over the balcony, falling. I remember Billy….” Johnny stopped then and ran his hands up into his hair. The familiarity of the gesture hit Maggie like a physical blow. She gripped her hands tightly in her lap to keep from reaching out to him, to keep from touching him. He wouldn’t welcome her touch.

“Billy’s dead, isn’t he?” Johnny choked out. “I need to tell my momma. She’s not gonna take this well.”

Maggie’s lips trembled, and the tears swam in her eyes. Oh, dear God! He was just realizing they were gone?! Oh, Johnny!” She hid her face in her hands, overcome with sympathy. This wasn’t happening.

“Johnny….” Jillian Bailey stood and touched his shoulder. “Momma already knows. All of that happened a long time ago.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Johnny was yelling again, so loudly the entire hospital would be coming down around them. “None of this makes any sense! I don’t know you! I don’t know HER!” His eyes flew to Maggie, who had reached for him again, needing to comfort him, needing to touch him. “I don’t know where I am or what I am doing here!” Maggie dropped her hand and reached for the bars on Johnny’s bed. Her legs trembled and her heart bled.

The door banged open again, and this time Fatima wasn’t alone. A bevy of medical people swarmed the room.

“OUT!” Fatima roared, pointing at the door. “Jillian! Take that girl back to her room.” Johnny had pulled his IV out of his wrist, causing blood to stream down his raised arm, and he was attempting to pull the bandages from his shoulder. Someone pulled Maggie from Johnny’s side, yanking her hands from the bars that were supporting her. Fatima bodily restrained Johnny as someone injected something into him. His shouting and struggling lessened almost immediately. Jillian Bailey wrapped her arms around Maggie’s shoulders and led her from Johnny’s room. Maggie collapsed onto her bed and sobbed. Jillian Bailey sat beside her, crying quietly with her, until the sun nuzzled its way into her hospital room, slipping golden fingers through the slats in her blinds and reminding her that life continued, whether or not Johnny had lost his.





Maggie begged to see him again, regardless of his feelings for her. His despair and fear made her almost crazed with worry. He was alone, his entire world gone, and Maggie knew acutely what that felt like. Alone without a friend in the world. She would be Johnny’s friend, even if friendship was all he wanted. She pleaded with whomever would listen, beseeching them to allow her access to him. Finally, toward the end of the next day, Jillian Bailey came back to her room and shut the door firmly behind her. She looked dead on her feet.

“Maggie,” Jillian Bailey sat on the foot of her bed. “I know you’re asking to see Johnny. I know you have feelings for him, and you’re worried about him. You can’t see him right now, though. He doesn’t remember you, and he doesn’t want to see you.”

Maggie nodded, taking the blow in stride. “I won’t ask him for anything or make him uncomfortable. I just want him to know he isn’t alone.”

Maggie swallowed the tears in her throat and kept her face composed. She was good at that. Many years of being disappointed and rejected had made her an expert. She’d never been hit or slapped or abused, but she’d been shunned, neglected and ignored. One year she’d been placed with a new foster family right before the holidays. They didn’t want their “family” time at Christmas “interrupted”, and they didn’t want extended family who would be visiting to feel “uncomfortable.” So she had spent the holiday in her room, listening as sounds of revelry and laughter floated up the stairs from the gathering below. It had sounded like fun. They had brought her a plate of food on Christmas Eve but had almost forgotten on Christmas day. She had many stories like that one. Lonely was something she was intimately familiar with, and something she didn’t want Johnny to suffer from, even if she wasn’t his preferred company.

Jillian Bailey nodded, and her eyes searched Maggie’s blank face for several seconds. “I don’t understand how any of this happened. But it did. And I promise you I will do everything in my power to help him and to take care of him as long as he needs me to. He won’t be alone.” Her tone was tender as she reached for Maggie’s hand.

“I’ll be waiting,” Maggie whispered, and her composure cracked the smallest bit. “Will you tell him? Tell him I will be here whenever he needs me.”

Jillian nodded and rose from Maggie’s bed. The next day, Maggie was released from the hospital.