Free I’ll Become the Sea by Rebecca Rogers Maher Page A

watching talk shows, leaning back against the raised bed.
    Jane stepped in, bearing a bouquet of tulips ahead of her. “Mrs. Johnson, hello.”
    “Oh hi, Miss Elliott! Come on in. How nice of you to stop by. Aren’t those pretty?”
    She smiled as Jane placed the vase by the window.
    “And Mr. Casey. Hello.” She reached up to receive his hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.
    “How are you feeling?” He stood beside her. “What happened?”
    Jane leaned back against the window ledge.
    “Oh, it was terrible. I was sitting up watching TV. Raymond was in bed, thank God. I got up to go for a soda in the kitchen and before I knew it I was on the floor. Now, I know what a heart attack looks like because I saw Raymond’s grandpa have one, right in front of me. I got to the phone somehow. Called 911. Raymond was sleeping. When those medics came in, it scared him to death.”
    She looked from David to Jane. “I know he had some trouble in school today.”
    Jane stood. “I didn’t realize until later what had happened to you…”
    “He told me about the fight. Tyrell of all people. They didn’t hurt each other?”
    “Not really. He must have been terrified for you. I guess he didn’t know how to talk about it.”
    “Well, he’d better learn. I’m not going to be here forever.”
    “Don’t say that.”
    “I have to say that. I’m not getting any younger in case you haven’t noticed. And this…” She trailed off, indicating with a wave of her hand the IV in her arm, the monitors beside the bed, the whole sterilized blandness of the room. She sighed, a long, deep sigh that had her wincing. The machine beside her beeped and whirred in the silence. “I don’t know how he’s going to make it if he can’t open up his mouth and tell someone he’s upset.”
    “Mrs. Johnson. He’ll be okay. He’ll figure it out.”
    A sound at the door made them all look up. Raymond stood, shoulders hunched, a can of soda in his hand.
    “I thought I told you juice, young man.”
    “They were out.” He shuffled in, head down. “Hey, Ms. Elliott. Hi, Mr. Casey.”
    “Out of juice. Well isn’t that something. Why don’t you just leave that can of soda here by the bed, Raymond. Maybe Ms. Elliott would like to help you find something a little healthier for a growing boy.” She turned to Jane. “You wouldn’t mind, would you, dear?”
    “No, of course not.”
    “Mr. Casey will just sit here and keep me company. Pull up a chair, now, young man.” She beckoned him to her side. “Make yourself at home. Soda?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” David inched the seat closer to her bed and sat down.
    “Let’s see if she can talk some sense into the boy.” She winked at David.
    “If anyone can do it…”
    “I’m right here, you know,” Raymond said.
    “Shoo.”
    She waved them out of the room.
    In the hallway, Jane rested a light arm across Raymond’s shoulders. He wore a dark sweatshirt over loose, baggy jeans and a pair of scuffed sneakers. He gazed down at them as they walked toward the elevators, hands shoved in his pockets.
    “You okay?” Jane asked.
    He shrugged. “Sorry about today.”
    “It’s okay. I’m glad nobody got hurt.”
    “You’re not mad?”
    “Mad? Well, I guess a little. I wish you’d told me what happened. I could have tried to help you.”
    He pushed the button beside the elevator door, watching the lights that lined the numbers above. She waited for him to speak again on the ride downstairs, but he was silent.
    In the cafeteria they found a carton of apple juice and a bag of trail mix for Raymond, and settled down at a table under the harsh industrial light.
    “What about you?” she said finally. “Are you mad?”
    “At you? No.”
    “At anything?”
    He busied himself unwrapping a straw, wrestling open the juice carton and snack bag.
    “Let me help you.” She reached for the plastic baggy and he snatched it back out of her hands, ripping it open and spilling half the contents onto the