Chance Encounters

The next day was weird. Honestly, in this school I was invisible in all of my classes but photography. I didn’t matter and I didn’t want to. My grades I cared about but I didn’t need to socialize. But when I walked in that next morning with Luke, my face all scratched up, I remembered what it was like when I was the topic of the rumor mill back in San Diego. I didn’t like it.

Being the center of attention when you walk down a hallway isn’t always a good thing. Sometimes, like now, it makes you feel uncomfortable like anything you do would fuel gossip for the next month until something more exciting comes along. I didn’t want to look down, because then I would just look like some timid girl who just got attacked by the really tall skinny guy with the bags under his eyes and pale skin. Luke could be very intimidating in the right light. When I kept looking at them though, they were giving me sympathetic or just plain 'what the hell happened to you' kind of looks and I didn’t want to see them either. Obviously I didn’t look that great. I had thought that maybe the makeup would help. That it would cover it up enough so I didn’t look like a freak, but I guess not.

ALL of my teachers had tried to get me to go to a nurse or see the counselor. My math teacher had even asked me if I wanted to file a police report! But I carefully fed them the same story that I had fed Mary earlier that morning. Some kids were playing baseball in my street and they hit the ball through my window causing the glass to shatter and cut my face. I doubted they really believed it but they did their duties as teachers and stopped asking questions.

The end of the day came around and the rumors had even spread to my ears. Thanks to some students who didn’t know how to lower their voices when they were discussing the latest juicy drama RIGHT NEXT TO THE SUBJECT. I walked with Luke through the hallways and to the car, 9% because we shared a ride, 81% because I wanted to, and 10% to show those lousy gossip vultures that we were fine. I wasn’t avoiding him, he didn’t do anything to me, he didn’t hurt me, BACK OFF.

“So did you hear?” I asked climbing into the passenger’s seat. “You apparently raped me last night and slammed a vase against me because I wasn’t screaming loudly enough.” I gave a little chuckle more out of shock than finding it genuinely humorous. It was obviously outrageous and it was almost shocking the lengths it had gone already. “That’s not even the worst one.” I continued on with another story. I’m not exactly sure how I ended up thinking it was worse than rape. That's a scary thought but I think I didn’t want to end on that note. So I brought up gang violence. A much better prospect…

“The teachers are giving me looks. I had to go to the counselor’s office today. They thought it was bad for me to be stuck in a room with fifteen other females.” He grumbled and I saw his fists tighten on the steering wheel. I, at that moment, kind of wished I was driving so I could do something other than twiddle my thumbs.

“Come on Luke,” I said trying to keep my voice nice and soothing. Don’t upset the person driving a car, even if the car can go over 50mph. “Who cares what they say? I know you didn’t do those things to me.” And as long as Mary or I didn’t press charges they couldn’t do anything to Luke. “They just don’t know you” I smiled at him and I was tempted to reach my hand out and touch him. But I didn’t. Why? Because even though I could see him calming down I knew that he was still seething underneath it all. His knuckles were white and his eyes were set into focused and angry slits.

“How about we go shopping first?” I asked, putting some happiness into my voice. I didn’t think working on a project about who we were was really going to help him at that moment. I mean not only would it be sort of awkward and quiet but it would be a reminder to Luke about who he was compared to who people thought he was. And that definitely wasn’t a good choice at that point. “We can work on the project later,” I added when he didn’t look convinced it was a good idea.

“Okay, but we still do need to get some work done,” he said, merging into the lane that would take us to the shopping center.

* * *

My mom had always told me that shopping was therapeutic and mostly I subscribed to that particular point of view. The smell of new fabrics, leathers, newly printed on pieces of paper in books, metal and plastic in a camera store.

All of the people rushing around you so you get lost in the mix, the bright colors of store signs and cellphone covers and all the fake happy employees ready to bend over backward to get you to buy something. It is amazing. The best part of it was that everyone was always in such a rush, worrying about their shopping lists, their screaming kids, their busy lives that no one even spent more than 5 seconds looking at my face!

At first Luke was determined to be grouchy, which quite frankly, was a bit of a downer. But I got to him. Misery feeds on misery and happiness is the same way. Starve misery and feed happiness!

“You’re so getting this!” I said happily and pulled a pair of jeans off a rack. Testing out the material, it was very sturdy and the color was nice and dark. He could wear them with anything he wanted. Then I caught sight of a nice blue flannel, I thought of Luke’s eyes. I grabbed it on impulse holding it up to his chest. I smiled. “I look so ridiculous,” he huffed at me and I had to shake my head because my voice had caught in my throat. The blue made his eyes almost glow.
“No you don’t,” I said, “You are getting it!” I put it in the basket and we went to the cash register. We had gotten Luke a couple of shirts, 4 pairs of jeans not including the ones I really liked, the flannel, a sweater, and a new pair of shoes for him. “I think we did good,” I said, looking through the bags. We only had a bunch of pennies and nickels left from the trip
At home, Luke went upstairs with the bags and I went into the kitchen to clear off the table and spread out our work. Mary was in the kitchen stirring up a pot of what smelled like tomato sauce. She was taking herbs from little pots she kept drying on the window sill. Her spaghetti was probably the most edible of her tofu dishes.

“So how did the shopping go?” Mary asked, sprinkling the spices into the sauce.

“It went good, I think. We got him some outfits that he can switch out. And with everything he brought from his house I think he’ll be all set.”

“Well that’s good. But I wasn’t particularly asking about-“ Mary’s sentence was cut off by a LARGE Thump. “What was that?” Mary asked, looking up the stairs.

“I dunno maybe Luke knocked something over?” I said heading upstairs. We were moving stuff around a lot, so it was probably one of my boxes. “I’ll go check it out,” I said from the top. I went into my old dark room and saw that all of my boxes were where I left them, but a bookshelf had fallen over. “Crap.” I said walking into the room going to try and lift up the shelf. The books were scattered along the floor. In the midst of picking up the books, I noticed a form on the floor. Oh god. “LUKE!” I screamed. I hurried forward, attempting to dig him out of the books. “MARY CALL 911!” I cried down the stairs.

I threw books and pulled on Luke's arms. I forced him up into a sitting position and shook him. “Luke, Luke!” I shouted at him. “Wake up!” Mary ran into the room talking on her home phone
“Yes that’s the address. HURRY!” She said before rushing to me. “What happened Ellie?” She asked, helping me move Luke out of the pile of books.

“I don’t know,” I said panicking. I kept shaking Luke’s shoulders, which probably wasn’t helping, but I kept trying. Mary pulled him away from me.

“Ellie calm down,” Mary said, diverting my gaze and speaking in a calm voice. “The ambulance is on its way. Can’t you hear it?” I could hear it. But that wasn’t helping me. I heard the sirens and they were close. I took a deep breath. Luke was going to get help. Mary handed me a handkerchief. I looked at it wondering why and looked for any blood on Luke. “No, Ellie, dear, it’s for you,” Mary said, placing the tissue in my hand. I touched my face and noticed the tear trails. I hadn’t even realized that I had been crying. I wiped the tears from my cheeks as I heard the door open downstairs.

* * *

The sound of beeping was steady and nerve racking as I sat on the chair next to Luke’s bed. There were wires and tubes coming from all over Luke. There was an IV drip and a heart monitor, along with a brain wave monitor. I refused to leave Luke’s side. And after Mary yelled at one of the doctors for about an hour before they agreed, I could stay in the room with him. Mary had to talk to someone about her insurance, but I wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen with Luke. The doctor wouldn’t tell us anything because we weren’t actually his family.

Luke’s finger twitched and I sat up in my seat. “Luke?” I asked hesitantly. I took his hand in mine. I looked down at Luke but hoped this wasn’t a false alarm again. Something like this had happened about an hour ago Luke was moving around but the doctors came in and told me he was probably just having a nightmare or a very vivid dream. But this time Luke’s grip tightened slightly around my fingers. “Luke,” I said again. “Are you awake?” I asked “Come on Luke… Wake up…” I muttered, leaning over his bed. His eyelids fluttered, and my heart skipped a beat. “Luke?” I asked again. His eyes opened and I tried not to hug him or else I might've pulled out the wires. “You’re awake,” I said, my voice cracking. I felt the tears this time. And I saw one fall onto Luke’s bed. “Thank god,” I sighed in relief and squeezed his hand tighter.

“Ellie?” Luke muttered and lifted his other hand up to my face and brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. “Why are you crying?”