“Oh … shit. Do I need to get lost?”
“Soon.” I frowned. “Not yet. Seems like they’re holding her overnight.”
We sat in silence, watching the ambulances come and go from St. Luke’s. Mel didn’t ask for specifics, thank God. I wouldn’t have told her. Either I hit Hannah or Seth hit Hannah, and maybe Hannah had a concussion. I scrubbed my face.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
Mel rubbed my back. I tensed, then relaxed. The gesture was nothing but amicable.
“You need anything else? Food, smokes?”
I shook my head.
After a while, I said, “Saint Luke. Why do they have to make saints out of everything?”
Melanie chuckled.
“He was a doctor,” I said. “Doctor Luke.” And then, “I’ll be buried in a Presbyterian cemetery. Did you know that? I’m tired enough to go there now.” I could say that to Mel because she was young, and she wouldn’t roll her eyes at me. She didn’t.
After Mel left, I dozed, but sirens and the cold kept pulling me awake. I drifted in and out of strange dreams. Dreams of Hannah. Dreams of quiet earth.
*
Hannah and Seth emerged from St. Luke’s as the sun rose.
Seth wheeled her out in a chair—my heart faltered—but as soon as they reached the sidewalk, Hannah stood and jogged toward the car.
I burst out of the car and ran to meet her. Seth hung back, watching us from the curb.
Hannah gestured for me to get back in the car, but there was no chance of that. If someone recognized me, fuck it. Nothing could stop me from going to her.
As I got closer, I saw a deep purple shiner under her left eye and a bluish bruise along her cheekbone. “Ah, goddamn it,” I said. I wrapped my arms around her.
“Matt, you’re so cold.” She sniffled and hugged me. Her tears dropped onto my neck. “Did you spend the whole night out here?”
“It’s fine, baby. I wanted to. My God, are you all right?”
“Yeah, it … was nothing. Too much champagne at the party. The punch put me down for the count, that’s all. I’m fine, I promise. No concussion.” She stroked my hair and I held her tight, my eyes locked on Seth. Round two, brother? I couldn’t erase the image of Seth’s mouth on Hannah’s, his greedy hands pulling at her.
“He going to join us?” I said.
“I don’t think so. He doesn’t want to talk to you…” Hannah glanced back at Seth.
“Fine with me,” I said, but I hesitated and watched my brother awhile. “You think he’s going to tell anyone?”
“No, he won’t tell. He’s leaving today. He wants nothing to do with us.”
“Good. He’s got nothing to do with us.”
After some moments, Seth turned and rolled the wheelchair back into the hospital.
That was the last time I saw him for quite a while.
Hannah let me drive the short distance back to our condo. We were too stunned to speak, or too relieved. She leaned against the seat with her eyes closed and her hand in mine.
Near the condo, I said, “Hannah, what was going on between you and Seth?”
“I’ll tell you inside,” she said, and she did. We sat on the couch and I rubbed her back while she cuddled against me. She came clean about the night in New Jersey when Goldengrove played and Seth tried to kiss her onstage. She told me how they went to the mall and he held her, and how he appeared at the release party last night.
She told me, too, about Aaron Snow’s article and his new online zine, No Stone Unturned. She explained his theory about me writing Night Owl and how and why she said she wrote it. “Seth was there,” she said, “but I don’t think he’ll tell anyone, and I don’t think Aaron is going to run the article. I sort of … threatened him.”
I mulled over the new information.
“Mm, no matter,” I said. “He can publish the story or not. No one will believe him. I doubt many people read his stuff, and those who do are fanatics. Seriously, I don’t know what that guy would do without his lifelong boner for me.”
“Start a zine about aliens?” Hannah giggled.