Free Book Excerpts

A psychological novel about the unforeseen consequences of teen pregnancy and how the lives of four people changed in powerful ways.

Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE
ERIC
November, 1993

I awoke with an excruciating pain inside my head. A sterile white ceiling with its fluorescent lighting made opening my eyes difficult. The stiff feel of a hospital bed confirmed the feeling that something bad had happened. Blinking, I turned my head to the right. IV tubes extended from my right arm and some sort of contraption beeped every few seconds.
A window with the blinds partly open gave me a glimpse of an old house that I recognized. As a boy I’d played in the backyard with the kid who lived there. It was on Oak Street, right behind the Blue Springs Memorial Hospital, two blocks off Main. I’d been here several times, but never as a patient.
Did someone shoot me? Not very likely in a mid-sized Missouri town like ours.
Maybe somebody beat me up? Seems like I’d remember that. Closing my eyes, I tried to figure out what could have landed me in a hospital. The last thing I remembered was walking inside the police station to report for work.
Definitely had something to do with my head because I’d never had a headache like this. Felt like throwing up. Could it have been a stroke? I’d never heard anyone say anything about a stroke being so painful.
The sound of my mother’s voice startled me. “Eric?”
I turned my head to the left.
Worry lines creased my mother’s face. A feeling of dread knotted in my stomach. “Mother?”
Her eyes looked strained, slightly bloodshot. Whatever had happened must have really concerned her. I’d never seen that look on her face, even when I’d broken my arm at age twelve.
She moved close and placed her hand on my forearm. “How do you feel?”
“Got a splitting headache. Worst I’ve ever had.”
“I’ll get the nurse.” She turned and walked out.
As I placed my elbows on the bed and tried to push myself up, a stabbing pain shot through my chest and abdomen. I fell back against the bed and felt my chest with my hand. A bad bruise, maybe some cracked ribs. If someone had beat me up, he must have been one tough bastard.
A nurse came in with my mother trailing behind. “How are you feeling, Mr. Thornton?”
“My head and chest are killing me. Could you give me something for the pain?”
I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at Mother. She was tense and upset. What on earth had happened?
The nurse lifted my arm and I opened my eyes enough to see her inject something into the IV. She checked my temperature and blood pressure, and made some notes on the chart.
Mother smiled at the nurse. “He’s doing a lot better, isn’t he?”
“Yes, Mrs. Thornton. He’ll be back on his feet in a day or so.” The nurse turned and left the room.
Mother came close and held my hand. I didn’t really want her to do that, after all, I was a grown man. But if it made her feel better, so what?
“I’ve been very worried about you.”
Couldn’t think of what to say. “Thanks for coming.”
She looked into my eyes, like she wanted to know something. I shut out the image with my eyelids. “Sorry, Mom, this headache makes it hard for me to carry on a conversation.”
She gripped my hand for several minutes. “You know, Eric, you were such a fine child. Always wanted to do the right things. Didn’t like to see anybody get hurt.”
“I haven’t changed much. So why don’t you give yourself a break and go home to get some rest? You look pretty tired.”
She didn’t budge. “Son, can you tell me what happened?”
Her tone was steady and low, one I’d never heard her use. She stared at me as her hand trembled on mine.
“I wish I knew. Did someone beat me up?”
“You can’t remember?”
I shook my head. “It feels like a bad beating, but it hurts twice as much. Did I get shot?”
“You were in a car wreck… a bad car wreck.”
That seemed odd. I hadn’t had an accident since I was sixteen. “Was anybody else hurt?”
“No.”
Relaxing a bit, I exhaled.
She gripped my hand even tighter. More to come.
“Eric, I want you to tell me the truth. Are you mixed up in something that might be illegal?”
“Of course not. I’m a cop. You know better than that.”
“The paper said you were driving drunk. Is that true?”
Oh shit. That might cost me my job. Worse yet, that was a pet peeve that she’d preached about since the day her cousin was killed by a drunk driver.
“Is that true, Eric?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember anything like that.”
Her grip remained tight. “Eric, are you having problems in your love life?”
Why would she ask me a question like that? She never asked me about who I was dating. I always figured she’d rather not know. “No. I haven’t even dated anybody in a good while.”
She began to tremble. What was she so worked up about?
“Please tell me what’s going on. I’ll try to understand.”
“I don’t know. Look, if I was DWI, I am sorry. I know how you feel about that.”
She began to cry.
Damnit. What could I do about it now? “Look, Mom, I’ll quit drinking. I promise you this will never happen again.”
Between sobs, she sputtered, “You won’t even have the opportunity.”
What did she mean by that? “I don’t know what else to tell you. I made a mistake and I’ve promised not to do it again. What else do you want me to do?”
“This DWI is the least of my worries. It’s the…” She broke down again, and held her face in her hands as she cried.
“What is it? You said nobody was hurt.”
She pulled a Kleenex from her purse and blew her nose.
“Eric, do you know a man named Jerrod Johnson?”
The name sounded familiar but I couldn’t place it with a face. “Doesn’t ring a bell, but it could be somebody I’ve pulled over or ticketed. Why do you ask?”
“They… the newspaper says you killed him and you’re going to jail.” She burst into tears again.
I killed a man? Who’s Jerrod Johnson? “There must be some mistake. You know I wouldn’t do anything like that intentionally, unless it was absolutely necessary.” She nodded but was too emotional to carry on a conversation. I wished I could just go back to sleep. Maybe this awful pain in my head would go away. This felt like a bad dream that I couldn’t wake up from and it left me with a weird feeling. Mom was all torn up and I was helpless to do anything about it.
The pain medicine made me feel drowsy. Might help me escape this mess where I didn’t have a clue what was going on. Maybe when I woke up I’d remember what happened. I hope this is just a dream.
Several hours later, I awoke again, only to find out my problems were real, and much worse. Found out that I would be facing charges associated with the car wreck and with a shooting. The doctor told me the police would be transferring me to jail as soon as he released me from the hospital. There was nothing more humiliating for me, or any other cop I knew, than being caged in a jail cell.
What had I done?

*  *  *

The next afternoon, Sergeant Pagnozzi rapped on the door, then came inside my room. He’d been with the Blue Springs police department about thirty years. A balding, heavy-set man who some of the guys called “dad”, he always gave advice whether you wanted it or not.
“Afternoon, Eric,” he said. “How you feeling?”
“Pretty rough. Like somebody implanted a pain machine in my head.”
“Well, you’re lucky it isn’t worse.” He looked me up and down. “Captain sent me over to check on you.”
“Tell him I’m enjoying all this good food and pretty nurses while I can. They tell me I’ll be moving into the penthouse suite in the gated community tomorrow.”
Pagnozzi’s eyebrows moved upward, he sighed, then nodded his head.
“What are the charges?”
“Captain said not to discuss your situation.”
“Surely you can tell me something.”
“Nope,” he said. “Maybe you can tell me something.”
“Wish I could. But the trouble is I can’t remember anything about this trouble I’m in. The doctor said it’s because of a concussion.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, Pagnozzi, I’m not.”
Walking around my bed, Pagnozzi stroked his chin. “Eric, if you’re thinking that you can get out of this by pretending you don’t remember, I’m compelled to tell you that’s a bad idea.”
“Look, Frank. We’ve known each other since I started work there. You know that I’m nothing if not honest. Right?”
He nodded a bit. “Yes, but a man will do things to get out of a jam.”
“What kind of jam am I in? I’ve heard about a DWI and something about a shooting.”
“I can confirm the DWI. That’s the only charge pending right now. I can’t comment on the shooting.”
“Frank, you’ve got to tell me one thing. What is my status with the Blue Springs PD?”
“You don’t remember your last conversation with the captain?”
“No. I’m trying to get this through your thick skull. I can’t remember anything about these things.”
He frowned and paced the length of the room and back. “I don’t see any reason why I can’t tell you. You’ve been suspended without pay until the results of the investigation are in.”
The word suspended struck a nerve inside. I closed my eyes. That meant I’d done something very stupid. Nobody had been suspended during the six years I’d worked there. “Frank, what did I do?”
“Can’t discuss it with you Thornton. I’ve already told you that.”
Of course he wouldn’t. He was a black-and-white kind of cop.
“Okay, Frank. Can you tell me if the wreck was in a squad car or my pickup truck?”
“It was in your truck. Look, Eric, I’d like to talk with you about this but I can’t. I will say you might be thinking about a good bail bondsman and a lawyer.”
“You wouldn’t call me a hypocrite if I bonded out?”
“Why would I do that?”
“You know the line. If you do the crime, you do the time.”
“Well, that’s if you’re convicted of a crime. You may be innocent for all I know. Look, I’ve got to get back to work.” He turned and walked out.
A few minutes later the doctor walked in. “Good afternoon, Eric. How’re you feeling?”
“About the same. Can you give me something stronger for this headache?”
He studied my chart. “We”ve been giving you Amitriptyline. Not sure there is anything stronger that you can take. We can try something different if you like.”
“Okay, I’ll try anything.”
He poked and prodded and then listened with his stethoscope at different parts of my chest. Then he probed my eyes with a small light. “Have you been able to remember anything more?”
“No. Not a thing.” Would he ask the same questions as he had yesterday? I decided to beat him to the punch. “And, yes, it’s still 1993 and Bill Clinton is still president.”
Smiling, he switched off the light and began making notes on my chart. “I’m optimistic that your memory lapse will improve. I’m going to refer you to a psychologist, Dr. Preston, to help with your post-concussive symptoms like this memory loss. Her office is on Spring Street.
“Psychologist? Don’t they work with people with mental illness?”
“Among other things, yes. But they can help with other issues like memory loss, cognitive disability, and disorders caused by head trauma.”
He handed the clipboard holding my chart to a nurse “I’m going to research another medication for Mr. Preston’s headache. I’ll send an order shortly. Any questions, Eric?”
“When will you release me?”
“Probably tomorrow. We want another day for observation more than anything else.”
“Believe me, I’m in no hurry.”
Looking out the window, I dreaded what was to come.

*  *  *

The next day, a burly cop named Mulligan delivered me to the police station and I received a ticket for DWI. Under the circumstances, they didn’t arrest me. No charges on the shooting because the State Police were conducting an investigation. They gave me a phone number and asked me to call him, even though they had already given him mine. Then Mulligan drove me home.
When I went inside, I could think of nothing to do but go into my bedroom, draw the blinds, and collapse onto my bed. I hoped that a good night’s sleep in my own bed would cure the pounding inside my head.

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Copyright 2010 Denton Gay. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.