Daniel Palmer - Helpless

“Sorry, buddy,” Marvin said. He switched off the lamp. “I’m not up on all the concussion symptoms. I guess that sensitivity to light is one of them.” Marvin pushed himself up and out of his chair with a grunt. He crossed the room and stepped over to a window that was letting in a good deal of sunlight.

Tom followed Marvin with his eyes. He noticed a cup with a straw on a nearby tray. He leaned over, desperate to quench a desertlike thirst, but his handcuffs kept the drink just out of reach. Marvin lowered the window shade and handed Tom the cup.

“Thanks for the drink,” Tom said after a long sip. “How long have I been in the hospital?” he asked.

Marvin glanced at his watch. “The accident happened last night. It’s noon now. A bit shy of twelve hours, I’d say.”

“Look, Marvin… I don’t remember anything,” Tom said, as if it were a secret.

Marvin returned a telling look. “Two cars were involved in the accident. Witnesses are saying it was road rage on the part of the other driver. That driver died of his injuries. Tom, it was Kip Lange.”

Tom let out a long, deep breath. “Lange’s dead,” he said in a voice that didn’t disguise his relief.

“What happened to you out there, Tom?”

Tom told Marvin all he could remember—about the phone call from Lange, about scouting Johnny Rockets for a possible ambush, about meeting Lange—but after that, his memories vanished.

“How do you think you got drugged?” asked Marvin.

“I don’t know,” Tom said. “The coffee, maybe. That’s all I drank.”

“But you didn’t see Lange slip anything into your drink.”

“No,” Tom said. “I doubt it was any of the waitstaff. But I can’t be sure. Maybe there was a manager on duty, someone I didn’t see.”

Marvin leaned in close and seemed to study Tom’s face. “That’s a nasty injury you’ve got there,” he said. “Have you seen it?”

“What? No beauty pageants in my future?”

Marvin scrutinized the injury even more intently. “Doesn’t look like it could have come from a car accident,” he said, with his eye inches from Tom’s face. “There’s a pattern to it, too. It looks like… like a star. Do you remember being hit in the face? Punched?”

Tom couldn’t easily shake his head to tell Marvin no.

“Something about it… Do you mind if I snap a picture?”

Tom forced a weak smile. “Don’t post it to Facebook,” he said.

Marvin chuckled and snapped a few pictures with his cell phone. He put his phone away, then picked up Tom’s, which had been resting atop the dresser by the hospital bed.

“I’ve got most of the stuff police recovered from your car in a cardboard box at my office. But I figured you’d want to have your phone by the bed.”

“Yeah, Lange might be calling to cut a deal,” said Tom.

“Not unless you believe in ghosts. They found more of Lange on the light post than they did inside his car.”

“Is it going to be harder to prove Lange was the one framing me now that he’s dead?” asked Tom.

“We don’t know for sure that it even was Lange,” Marvin said. “For all we know, it could have been Murphy working outside the law to make his case against you, or a disgruntled player, a parent even.”

“You don’t really believe that. Do you?” Tom said. “The motive just isn’t there. Lange’s the only one with a real reason to frame me. He wanted what he thought I had. It’s obvious.”

“We’re going to go after any and all witnesses connected to Lange,” Marvin said, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m turning my investigators loose as we speak. Rest assured, I won’t leave a single stone unturned.”

“That’s the way we’re going to beat this rap,” Tom said. “I’m sure of it.”

“Hope you’re right, buddy,” Marvin said. “But something isn’t adding up for me.”

“What isn’t?”

“Lange never made one real extortion attempt. And whoever did this frame job knows his computer chops. I mean, really knows what he’s doing. Computer skills classes in prison are good, but they’re not that good.”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we might not be out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot.”

Tom took another long sip of water and was about to respond to what Marvin had said when his hospital room door opened slowly. A head poked into the room. It took Tom a moment to realize that it was Jill. His face brightened.

“Is it okay to come in?” Jill asked Marvin.

Marvin nodded his head in Tom’s direction. “He looks happy to see you,” the lawyer replied.

“I am happy,” Tom said. “Come give your old man a hug.” Tom lifted his arms to accept an embrace but forgot about his handcuffed wrist. The metal scraped loudly against the bed frame. Jill took a few steps backward, as if she’d been pushed.

“Get that doctor in here, and get these handcuffs off me. Will you, Marvin?” Tom asked. He managed to keep his voice calm despite his embarrassment.

“On it. Excuse me, Jill.” Marvin shot Tom an apologetic look and left the room to go find Prince.

Tom shrugged and hoisted his chained wrist again. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this, Jill,” Tom said. “I’m just glad that you’re here.” Jill kept her distance, but Tom managed to coax her forward a few feet with his unencumbered arm. When he pointed to the chair by his bedside, Jill sat down.

“You look okay,” Jill said. “I mean, considering what could have happened.”

Tom smiled at her. “Yeah, I’m tough. But I’m worried about you. Are you okay?”

Jill broke away from her father’s gaze and began to search for anything else that she could focus on. “I’m fine,” she said in a quiet voice.

Tom couldn’t help but marvel at his daughter. She looked so beautiful to him, grown up and capable. He wanted to tell her that he loved her. He wanted her to know that he’d always be there for her. He didn’t want her to leave the room, however, so he kept those thoughts to himself. They were together, and though neither spoke for several minutes, for Tom it was the best medicine he could receive.

Jill took a quick visual inventory of all the equipment connected to her father: heart monitors, IV drips, and such. “When do you get out of here?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I feel okay. Hopefully soon. How’d that chem test go?”

“My teacher is going to let me take it tomorrow, because of what happened to you and all. In truth I could use the extra study time.”

“Happy to help,” Tom said.

Though it hurt Tom to laugh, he couldn’t resist a chuckle, and neither could Jill.

“Hey, I forgot to ask you about Manadnock. How’d the team do?”

“We beat ’em two–zip. So that was cool.”

“Yeah? Did you play well?”

“I dunno. I did all right, I guess.”

“Come on. Don’t be modest. Did you rock the pitch or not?”

Jill smiled. “Yeah, I rocked it pretty good,” she admitted.

Tom balled his left hand into a fist and raised it up. Jill gave him a fist bump without his having to ask.

“I knew you would.”

“Does it hurt bad?” Jill asked. “It looks like it hurts.”

“It’s not too bad,” he said. “I guess I was pretty lucky.”

“Yeah… well, you’re a lot luckier than Mom.”

“I’m so sorry, Jill,” Tom said. “I wasn’t thinking about the memories this would bring up for you.”

Jill let out a sigh of exasperation as she stood up from her chair. “I don’t think of Mom as a memory. They can’t be memories when I think about her all the time.”

Tom took hold of Jill’s hand, but she recoiled from his touch. “Jill, wait. What I mean—”