I could make out the blob shape of my father approaching the bed. He took my hand and patted it, but it wasn’t the same as before. “You’re all right, Sebastian,” he said firmly. “Everything’s all right.”
“Where’s Neil?” I asked again.
My father hesitated, but I had closed my eyes again and didn’t know why. “He’s not here.”
“Where’d he go?”
“He hasn’t been here, Sebastian.”
“He was holding my hand.”
Dad paused again, then just patted my arm once more.
“Do you think you can answer some questions, Sebastian?” another person asked.
“Whoa,” I said quietly. “I know that voice. It’s Mr. Medal of Honor.”
“What?” That was Pop.
I opened my eyes again and raised my other hand slightly, pointing at the out-of-focus, standing figure. “Calvin is a hero.” What the fuck was I talking about? I heard myself laugh again. “My head really hurts. What did I do?”
Calvin stepped closer to the bed and took a seat in the nearby chair. “What do you remember?”
That seemed an easy enough question.
“Let’s see,” I said slowly, licking my lips. “Garland….”
“Why were you at the Emporium so early?” His tone was calm and soothing. It made my head hurt less.
“Christmas,” I muttered. “I didn’t want to be a Grinch….”
“You were putting up decorations?” he asked, but sounded like he already knew that.
I started to nod and then winced and shut my eyes again.
“Then what?” he quietly pressed.
“I thought about you.”
“Why?” he asked.
“I think you’re hot,” I answered, and even as I heard myself say it, I didn’t censor myself. Was I on drugs? “I googled you.”
Again, he asked, “Why?”
“Medal of Honor,” I muttered. “Silver Star, Purple Heart….” I moved my hand to pat my dad’s. “Army, Dad.”
“So it seems,” Pop answered.
I opened my eyes and glanced at my dad, but I think he was staring across the bed at Calvin. Shock? Impressed? I know, so was I. He was an action-movie hero, without the movie part.
Calvin cleared his throat. “Sebastian? Why were you next door?”
“Which next door?”
“Good Books.”
“Oh shit, the security alarm,” I muttered.
