He ran a finger across Lilly’s ashen cheek. “Hi, hon. It’s Ben.”
For just a moment she opened her eyes, but then the lids fluttered and closed. Her heart rate quickened. Then it slowed until the intervals between each beat lengthened. The monitor read a sluggish forty-five beats per minute, but she was sedated.
Keep it positive, keep it real.
Again he touched her cheek. “We got him, honey.” Her heart rate sped up a bit. More than hearing him, he knew she understood. “We got him and he’s behind bars. He’s never, ever gonna get out and he’s never, ever, ever gonna hurt anyone else again. It’s over and done with. He’s toast. Your job is to just get well.”
Ben paused to keep the emotion out of his voice.
“You just get well and heal up so that I can give you and Haley a hard time like I always do. We’re all here for you, Lilly—anything you need and anything you want. I’m here as long as you want. I’m not going anywhere. Right now, I’ve got nothing but time. So when you wake up and you’re better, if you want to hang out and annoy me, I’m here, okay?”
No response. But her blood pressure was stable, her breathing was stable, and so was her heart rate. So that was as good a response as anything.
“I know your dad wants to come back and be with you here in this room. And since there can only be two people with you, I gotta leave the ICU. But I’ll be close. I’m gonna stay with my grandparents so I can come back and forth easily. So . . . so . . . I guess I’ll talk to you in a little bit. Because your dad wants to be here and we can’t have more than two people in the room . . . I think I already said that.
“Take care, hon. Get well . . . get well real soon. I’ll be waiting.” Ben looked at June. “Thanks.”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Then she continued her vigil.
George was just outside the ICU. He helped Ben walk back to the waiting room, offering him coffee and a croissant once the kid was seated.
“Thanks. I actually am a little hungry.” Ben nibbled the croissant.
“Call your grandparents.”
“I’ll go to the house as soon as I get my bandages changed.”
“When’s that?”
Ben looked at his watch and took out the vial of antibiotics. He swallowed a pill dry. “At ten. In an hour.” He took a sip of the coffee. It felt warm and soothing. “I’ll leave when that’s done. Thank you for letting me see her.” Another sip of coffee. “You know, she opened her eyes for a second.”
“She did?”
“Just for a second. But she did react to my voice. Her heart rate went up. She heard me, George. And I really, really think she understood what I was saying.”
“You kept it positive?”
“I kept it positive.”
George dry-washed his face again. “I’ve got something in my car that I’ve been carrying around for months.”
“What?”
“Just wait here.”
“Sure. Where else would I go?”
George was back about five minutes later, carrying a manila envelope. “This is Lilly’s graduation present to you. And today is officially your graduation, whether you’re there or not.” He handed Ben the package.
“What is it?”
“Just open it.”
The flap had been taped shut. Ben ripped it off and pulled out a stack of paper. The first thing he saw was a letter from the California Institute of Technology congratulating him on his acceptance. He hadn’t applied to Caltech. He hadn’t applied anywhere except St. John’s and UNM. Looking at George, he said, “Excuse me?”
“It was Lilly’s idea. She wanted to make it happen. So a few of us got together and did what needed to be done.”
“A few of you being . . .”
“Lilly, me, your parents, of course, Tom Gomez, your teachers who felt you were selling yourself short. Even your principal was in on it.”
“You forged an application to a major university.”
“We didn’t forge anything.” George was irritated. “You got the grades, you got the scores, you got the National Merit Scholarship. Your teachers in high school and at UNM wrote the recommendations. They certainly weren’t forged. I have no idea what your boss at Circuitchip wrote, but I assume it was okay ’cause you got in.”
A pause.
“Lilly wrote your essays. Did a damn good job. They sounded just like you . . . actually, smarter than you. And she didn’t mention Ellen, even though everyone said she should. She figured you wouldn’t have liked that.”
“I wouldn’t have liked it.”
“The only thing that was forged was your signature—courtesy of your dad. Big effing deal.”
Ben regarded the letter. “This is ridiculous. I’m not going anywhere . . . especially not now. She needs me.”
“Lilly has two parents, Ben. She doesn’t need a third.” George weighed his words. “You know you’re a little like me, kid. And maybe that’s why Lilly always had a thing for you.” He paused. “Benjamin, it’s time for you to stop being a grown-up and start acting your age.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ben repeated. “I can’t leave her alone.”
“You’re not leaving her alone, you’re going away to college. Thousands of kids just like you do it every year. Stop being a baby.”
Ben was furious. “Me? A baby?”
“Ben, you’re fine as long as you’re facing death in the eye. It’s life that gives you problems.”
Ben was too angry to talk, then a few moments passed and a cooler head prevailed. Ben said, “George, I can’t leave her now. It’ll break her heart.” Silence. “She loves me.”
“I know she does. I’ve seen enough of her doodling: ‘Ben,’ ‘Benny,’ ‘Benjamin’ written across the insides of her notebooks . . . all the hearts with your and her initials in them. The true question is, do you love her?”
“Of course I love her.”
“I mean, do you really love her?”
“George, she’s not even fifteen yet.”
“Well, she won’t be fifteen forever.” When the kid didn’t answer, George said, “Ben, if you love her, you’ll go to Caltech. She wants you to go.”
Dumbfounded, Ben stammered out, “That was then. This is now.”
George stared at the kid with wet eyes. “If you want to do something for her—something very, very important for her—blaze the fucking trail. She chose Caltech for you because she wants to go to Caltech. She wants to go to L.A. She always wanted to learn how to surf.”
George looked upward.
“After what happened, I should never let her go. Never, ever, ever. All I want to do is hold her hand and tell her I love her. And June . . . pssh . . . she’s superprotective to begin with. If it’s up to us, we’d keep her under lock and key forever. What good will that do? We’ll cripple her.
“But if she has a guardian angel out there, someone who can take care of her if she needs it down the road, maybe . . . just maybe . . . June will relent and let my beautiful daughter spread her beautiful wings. That monster took a lot from her, but he didn’t take her brain. He didn’t take her soul. If you want to help her, get yourself educated and help my daughter to do the same.”
Ben was still looking at the letter. “I can’t believe my dad forged my signature.”
“Stop making a federal case out of it.”