Hope For Garbage (6 page)

CHAPTER 13

“He said he thought it was just heartburn at first.  But then it didn’t go away,” Carol was babbling to one of the doctors in the emergency room.

Tom was laid out on a gurney with all kinds of monitors hooked up to him.  He had made quite a first impression on their date tonight—that was for sure.  After three bites of his porterhouse steak, he started feeling pain in his chest.  He told Carol it was probably just indigestion, but this felt different.  He didn’t want to alarm her so he excused himself and went to the men’s room.  While splashing cold water on his face, he suddenly felt like he couldn’t catch his breath.  He hurried back to the table and told Carol he thought maybe they should go to the hospital, just as a precaution.

The doctors told him he had a non-segment myocardial infarction, or a mild heart attack. As if there
was such a thing.  They told him he would be okay; at least no surgery was necessary now.  But he was going to have to take more pills and change his diet.  They also said a daily walk around the block would be helpful.

Tom just nodded, but what he was thinking was that it would be a cold day in hell before he started eating healthy and exercising.  At this age, what was the point?  After the lecture, they told him he would have to stay in the hospital overnight for observation.

He hated being here.  Just the sounds of the monitors and the smells of antiseptic brought back unpleasant memories.  He had spent many days next to Maddie’s bedside at this very hospital.

Carol walked over, “Hey, how you feeling?”  There was obvious concern in her eyes and it was
strangely comforting.  “Can I get you anything?”

“Oh, I’m fine.  They said it wasn’t serious.  I should be able to go home tomorrow.”  Suddenly he remembered Trevor—Tom was supposed to pick him up at that girl’s house.  “Oh shoot!  I forgot about the kid!   Could you call him and let him know what happened?”

“Of course.  Oh my, he’s probably worried sick by now.  I’ll call him right away,” she jotted down the number and wandered off in search of a pay phone.  Tom would make sure to let Trevor know he was
not
the only person on the planet without a cell phone.

“And make sure you say it wasn’t serious!  I don’t want the kid to worry about me!”

“Sure thing!” Carol shouted back.

An ER nurse came over to wheel Tom to his room.  As he closed his eyes, he thought about the kid. Maybe Trevor was able to get a ride from Lorene.  He just hoped the poor kid wasn’t walking home.

***

They drove in silence for the first few minutes.  Trevor was busy examining the interior of her Mercedes.  It was sweet, definitely top-of-the-line.  It had all of the luxuries: heated leather seats, moon roof, navigation system, Bose stereo…all the gadgets.

And Evelyn Stewart fit right into her surroundings.  This lady was high-class all the way.  Everything about her was polished.  Her blond hair was pulled back tightly from her well made-up face.  Her bright red lipstick matched her bright red nails.  The rock on her wedding ring was so big, it looked like her boney finger would snap under the weight of it.

“So how do you like Westwood Trevor?” she asked quietly.

How did she think he liked Westwood?  It was a shithole compared to Harbor Village. “How do I like it?  Hmm… I guess it’s okay Mrs. Stewart.”

She was looking him over.  “Please, just call me Evelyn,” she said without a hint of emotion.  They drove a few more minutes in silence.  He just wished she would put on the radio or something.  “Can I ask you something Trevor?”

He felt a flicker of uneasiness creep up inside of him. “Sure.”

“Do you think I’m attractive?” 
Holy shit
.  His heart started racing.  He shifted in his seat turning towards the window. 
What the hell should he say?

“Yeah, I think you are attractive Mrs.—I mean Evelyn.”  He tried to sound as casual as possible, but
he had a feeling he was failing big-time.

She spoke in almost a whisper, “You know, I work really hard to look this way.  I run on the treadmill every night; I eat like a rabbit.”  Her voice was starting to crack.  “I get facials and manicures—you name it—I do it.  And, I’m a successful business woman for Christ’s sake.” 

What the…? 
Trevor cautiously glanced over at her.  She was about to lose it—he could feel it.

She took a tissue out of her pocket and wiped her eyes.  “I don’t know why I even care if that bastard is having an affair!”

Now she was swerving a little.  Was she drunk?  He could see her hands shaking on the steering wheel.  Trevor did not like where this was going.  She needed to calm down.  The last thing he needed was to get in an accident with this head case.

Suddenly the car swerved sharply toward the median.
  “Evelyn, maybe we should pull over somewhere, like take a breather?”

She wiped her eyes with
her sleeve.  Black shit was streaming down her cheeks.  “Okay.  Yeah, I’m sorry.”

She pulled into a strip mall and drove around to the back of the buildings.  She parked near some trees and shut
off the engine.  “I am
so
sorry about that,” she said sighing.  “You’ve got to think I’m a complete nut.  I just need a minute.”

A wave of relief washed over Trevor.  Maybe she wasn’t a total psycho.   He felt a sudden pang of sympathy for her.  “No, no…absolutely not.  You
should
be pissed.  Your husband is a complete jackass if he’s having an affair.  Seriously.”

She laughed and gave him a look that sent his blood rushing.  Even with all the black shit on her face, she was still hot.  And she looked so young when she let her guard down.  She could pass for Bea’s big sister, instead of her mom. 

As Bea entered his mind, he quickly looked away. “Do you have proof? I mean do you know for sure?”

Evelyn was searching for something in her purse.  “There were little signs at first.  Then Lorene found this earring in the house.”  She held up a little gold ball.  “It isn’t mine or Barbara’s.”

Again, the mention of Bea made him squirm in his seat, “Maybe it belongs to one of Bea’s friends.”

Evelyn sighed, “Maybe.  But you know what Trevor?  A woman just knows.  When you’ve be
en married to someone for twenty years, you know.”

She leaned over him and reached into the glove compartment.  “Excuse me.  I think I have some tissues in here.”  She was just inches from his face and she smelled so good.  His heart started racing.  He closed his eyes, as if not looking at her would help anything.

And then it happened.  In a matter of seconds, her lips were on his.  Her very experienced mouth took complete control.   He sat there motionless, eyes closed, hands at his sides.  She held the sides of his face and kissed him more deeply. He didn’t move.

Then she got on top of him, and her hands started pulling at his shirt.  He was so turned on and so scared at the same time.  He couldn’t seem to move his body, but his thoughts ran wild. 
Was this lady mental?   What about Bea?

“Wait…Evelyn…this is crazy…”

She started kissing his neck, her hands unbuttoning his shirt.  She was whispering in his ear, “I just want to feel beautiful…I just want to feel loved and wanted.  That’s all I want.”

The heat was building up inside of him and Trevor thought he might explode. 
Get a grip!

She ran her hands over his chest and nibbled on his ear, “Is that too much to ask?  You want me, don’t you Trevor?”

He grabbed Evelyn’s shoulders and pushed her away.  “No…this is wrong.  This is really wrong.”  He wanted to say Bea’s name but he found himself holding back. 
Just say it Trevor.

Evelyn looked him in the eyes
.  As if reading his mind she said softly, “Trevor, listen to me.  No one will ever know.  Do you hear me?  Ever.  But you have to decide…”

They stared at each other for seconds that seemed like minutes.  And then she asked, “So Trevor, what do you want to do?”

CHAPTER
14

Trevor had tossed and turned most of the
night, barely sleeping at all.  No need for an alarm; he was awake well before six.  The sky outside was just turning from grey to hazy white and he was ready to leave.

He wanted to get to the hospital first thing in the morning.  Carol’s voicemail had said
Mr.T was okay, that there was nothing to worry about, but Trevor had to see for himself.

He pedaled his bike east toward th
e hospital trying not to think about the night before.  The whole thing seemed surreal. Maybe it had all been just a dream.  He arrived at the hospital and locked up his bike near the entrance doors.

At the front desk, he asked for Tom Tyminski’s room and then took the elevator up to the third floor.  Trevor did not like hospitals—the smell alone was as bad as Uncle Gary’s laundry.  He tried not to breathe through his nose.

He wandered down the hall, following the signs until he came to room 312.  He peeked inside and found Mr.T in bed.  Blending right into the white hospital sheet tucked under his arms, the old man looked alarmingly pale and thin.  Trevor took a deep breath.  

The TV was
playing quietly in the background, but Mr.T appeared to be sleeping.  Trevor sat in the chair next to the bed and glanced up to see the Discovery Channel on—something about black holes in the universe.

“So how w
as your date last night kid?”

Trevor jumped half out of his seat. “Jesus,
Mr.T!  I thought you were sleeping.  You scared the crap out of me.”

Mr.T
’s eyes were still closed but there was a smirk on his face.  “Sorry I scared you.”

An overwhelming sense of relief came over Trevor.  “Well, I guess I should be asking you how your date went.  Obviously not great, since you ended up in the hospital.”

At this Mr.T opened his eyes and smiled. “Ha Ha.  They said it was a minor heart attack.  I’m just waiting for the doctor to come and give me the okay to go home.”

Trevor sat up in his chair.  “Heart attack?  Carol told me it was an ulcer.”

“I told her not to worry you kid.  I’m fine really.  They told me to change my diet, blah, blah.”

Mr.T
proceeded to tell Trevor about the dinner, having the chest pain, and thinking it was indigestion.  Trevor felt a knot forming in his stomach.  He knew Mr.T was getting up there, but he couldn’t imagine what life would be like without him.

Mr.T
must have sensed his worry, “Really kid, it’s nothing.  I want to hear more about your night.  Anything good happen?”  He lifted his eyebrows up and down.

Trevor hesitated.  He wasn’t sure how to answer this.  Up to this point he had been pretty honest with
Mr.T.  But that was probably because he never asked any tough questions.  He always minded his own business and didn’t get too personal.

Trevor took a deep breath.  “I think I need to end things with Bea.  I’ve only known her a few days, and things are getting way too complicated, way too fast.  I just can’t deal with all the drama anymore.”

A frown came over Mr.T’s face, “Really?  What’s the drama?”

Trevor closed his eyes and just decided to spill it.  He couldn’t keep something this big bottled up inside. “Bea’s mom came onto me last night
,” he blurted out.

H
e tried to gauge Mr.T’s reaction, but to his surprise, the old man showed no reaction at all.  Trevor waited, “Well?  Aren’t you going to say something?”

Mr.T
suddenly burst into laughter, “Are you pulling my leg?”

Trevor sighed, “No, I’m serious.  And it’s all your fault.”

“Oh really!  Do tell!”  Mr.T’s eyes sparkled.  He was loving this.

“Evelyn had to give me a ride home when you didn’t show.”

“Ooooh, Evelyn?” Mr.T chuckled.  “So I see we’re on a first name basis.”

Trevor fell back into his chair, “
Mr.T this is serious!”

Mr.T
stopped smiling, “Okay kid, no more joking—promise.  So, what happened?  Did you…you know?”

“No!  She just came on really strong and I told her it was wrong, and she took me home.  That’s it.”

Mr.T looked disappointed, “That’s it?”

Trevor didn’t want to talk about it anymore, “That’s it.”

CHAPTER
15

Bea had been crying.  Lorene could tell as soon as she came in the door.  She had just picked up the dry cleaning and was in a hurry to get dinner started. Bea was lying on the couch, staring out the window.  Her eyes were red and puffy and the expression on her face said it all.  This couldn’t be good; Bea didn’t cry very often.

Lorene walked over and sat on the couch next to her, “Bea honey, what’s going on?”

“I don’t want to talk about it
,” she said quietly.

Bea didn’t need to say anymore.  Lorene knew this had to be about the boy.
  She handed Bea a box of tissues.  “Please talk to me Bea.  Is it about Trevor?”

Bea reached down into her bag that was lying on the floor and pulled out her cell phone.  “I got this voicemail from him today.”  She pushed the voicemail button and put it on speaker so Lorene could hear.  It wasn’t a long
message; Trevor simply said he didn’t think it was going to work out between them.  It wasn’t anything Bea did; it was all him.  He thought it best if they didn’t talk anymore.  It was short and to the point.

Lorene wouldn’t have expected something like this coming from Trevor.  Based on meeting him Monday night, she thought he really liked Bea.  But she guessed there was a lot about the boy she didn’t know.

“Can you believe him?  He just calls and leaves a voicemail—with no explanation.  Can’t even face me.”  Bea walked over to the fridge and took out a Diet Coke.  “I called him yesterday because I hadn’t heard from him after the dinner.  Then I sent him a text just saying I wanted to talk.  He didn’t send anything back.”

She took a sip of her soda, “I just don’t get what I did.  We had a good time Monday night.  I thought everything was fine.  I just wonder if my mom freaked him out.”

“Your mom?” 
When did Mrs. Stewart enter the picture?
  Lorene wondered.

“Yeah, it was really bad.  Trevor’s friend,
Mr.Tyminski, never showed.  Mom had to drive Trevor home.  Talk about embarrassing.”

Things were starting to make a little more sense now.  Lorene could definitely see Mrs. Stewart telling Trevor to keep his distance.  He was from Westwood after all.

Lorene tried to offer her best advice, “Sometimes people just make rash decisions.  I can tell you one thing.  If it’s meant to be, he’ll come back to you Bea.  Don’t you go chasing after him.”

Bea cracked a weak smile and Lorene figured that was probably the best
she was going to get.  She took a skillet out of the cupboard and placed it on the stove, “Now what would you like for dinner?”

***

Trevor didn’t like Thursdays.  On Tuesdays and Thursdays, instead of first period study hall, he had gym.  He wasn’t athletic in the first place and who in the hell wanted to run around at seven-thirty in the morning?  He also had his sessions with Dr. Fisher on Thursdays.  And this Thursday in particular really sucked because he had just broken things off with Bea.

He purposely called her mid-morning, hoping she was in class and he would get her voicemail.  It worked
, and he was able to leave her a really lame message without having to talk to her.

Trevor tossed his books in his locker and stuffed his sweatshirt into his backpack.  He headed toward the exit when he heard Mrs. Dixon behind him, “Trevor, can I see you for a second?”

Mrs. Dixon was one of the high school guidance counselors and a major pain in his ass.  Trevor turned around and waited for her to catch up.  She hobbled down the hall waving a yellow paper in her hand.  “Just a minute!”

This was the last thing he needed.  He sighed, “I’ve already told you, I’m done talking to the guidance counselors.”

“Oh, it’s not about that.”  She needed to lose some weight in a bad way, and now she was almost out of breath.  “The SAT scores are in and you scored the highest in the school.  Let me show you.”  She pointed to the yellow paper, “Let’s see here…” she scanned the paper with her chubby finger, “Here!  Here is your score.  That’s good enough for most Ivy League schools Trevor.  Congratulations!”

“Thanks.”  He thought he had done well.  No real surprise there.  School had always been pretty easy for him.  Good skin and a high IQ—two things he guessed he had his parents to thank for.  Two very important things he realized, but pretty much the only things.

He turned and headed to the door.  Mrs. Dixon yelled after him, “Well Trevor, have you thought about college anymore?  With your grades and these scores, you could probably get some kind of scholarship!”

He just kept walking
to the door.

***

The Beaumont Mental Health Center, a.k.a. the Crazy Kids Center was recently voted the number two facility in the country for pediatric mental health.  Trevor only knew this because there were billboards all over the place proudly stating the fact.

The building itself was pretty cool.  It rose about ten stories high and was constructed mostly of glass.  The front entrance opened into a large two-story atrium, and had a very modern feel.

An enormous fish tank stood in the middle of the atrium.  It was cylindrical in shape and surrounded by high cushioned seating.  Trevor loved the aquarium.  It was filled with the most fantastic sea creatures: clown fish, anemones, starfish, crabs and even an octopus.  He had come to his last four sessions early just so he could sit in front of it and watch.  It was mesmerizing.

He took a seat on one of the benches and gazed into the glass.  He was looking for the octopus.  He nicknamed her Betty but he had no idea why.  She hid in the rocks a lot
, and today was no exception.  He was concentrating his efforts on locating Betty when he heard a woman laugh.  He looked up to see Dr. Fisher. 

She was on the other side of the atrium, talking to another doctor.  He was an older guy, looking very professional in his white coat and well-groomed silver hair.  They were standing close together—a littl
e too close in Trevor’s opinion, to be just colleagues.

Dr. Fisher actually looked like she was blushing.  Her body language said she was really into this guy.  It was a side of he
r he had never seen before and Trevor found it pretty amusing. 

After a little more conversation,
the man put his hand on Dr. Fisher’s shoulder and then turned to leave.  That’s when Trevor noticed the wedding ring on the guy’s finger. 
Oh man, was this her husband?

But he didn’t think Dr. Fisher was married—at least she didn’t wear a ring. He had checked that out in their first session.  And if it wasn’t her husband, then she could be flirting with a married man! 
Tsk, tsk, Dr. Fisher
.

Trevor watched her walk over to the elevators and go in.  He looked at his watch—3:58.  He would wait a couple of minutes and then head up to her office.

He was smiling to himself.  He wasn’t in the greatest mood today, but maybe he could have some fun with Dr. Fisher.  At least he had some material to work with if things got uncomfortable.  After the last session, he started doubting whether the Home Depot gift cards were really worth it.

He knocked
and she immediately opened the office door.  “Hello Trevor, come on in,” she motioned her hand toward the chair.  No blushing smiles here—all business.

He sat down and she took her position in the chair across from him, her notepad at the ready.  “So how are you doing today Trevor?”

“Okay, how are you?”

“I’m fine thank you.  We started talking about your mother last time—“

“Are you married Dr. Fisher?” he interrupted.

Trevor could see the surprise in her eyes.  She hesitated for a second, “Why do you ask?”

“It’s a pretty common question.  I was just curious.”

She shifted slightly in her seat, “No, I’m not married.”  And then she quickly asked, “So do you want to start where we left off?”

He ignored her, “I have another question.  Are you a real doctor?”

Her face immediately showed a hint of annoyance, “What do you mean by
real
?”

“Well, I just wondered if you were an M.D., you know an actual psychiatrist, or if you were one of
those psychologists with a PhD who like to call themselves doctors.”  Trevor already knew the answer.

She narrowed her eyes at him and he didn’t look away.  She pointed to the array of diplomas and awards on the wall behind her.  “I have a doctorate degree in psychology and therefore I can be addressed as doctor.”

Trevor liked keeping the focus on her.  He sat forward in his chair so he could see her reaction better, “See, I think that’s bullshit.  A doctor is someone who goes to medical school, who works in a hospital, who can prescribe meds—
that’s
a doctor.”

She put her pad of paper on the table next to her and folded her hands in her lap.  “Well, you are entitled to your opinion, but I can recommend medication to the general practitioner if I think it should be prescribed
.”

“So in other words, you have to get the okay from the
real
doctor first,” he said smugly.  He knew he was being a jack-ass, but he was having fun.

She was actually starting to look a little ticked off.  “Please address me as Sarah.  No need to call me Dr. Fisher if you feel that way.”  Then, with a tight-lipped smile on her face, she asked, “So Trevor, have you thought at all about what
you’d
like to do when you graduate?”

He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed in front of him.  “Actually I have.  I think I want to be a garbage man when I grow up.”

Dr. Fisher didn’t show it on her face, but he knew what she was thinking.  “Really, and why is that?”

“Umm…cause I like garbage?  What do you mean, why?  I
f I said I wanted to be a quote—doctor,” he motioned italics in the air for emphasis, “you wouldn’t ask why.  You would say ‘Oh that’s wonderful Trevor’.”

“Actually I would ask the exact same question.  I don’t care what you choose as an occupation.   I’m more interested in why you choose it.”

Trevor liked the tit-for-tat with Dr. Fisher.  “That’s what you say now, but you know damn well you would look down on someone wanting to be a garbage man.”

“Not true,” she said simply.  She was a tough one to rattle.

He was still curious about the silver-haired man in the lobby.  He went on, “Yeah, you would never date a garbage man.   I bet you only date the rich guys.  You know,
doctors
—like you.  You’re probably still on the hunt for Mr. Big Bucks.  I bet one of your prerequisites is that he has to make six figures.  Am I right?”

Trevor was on a roll and he could see he was finally getting to her.  She started tapping her pen methodically on her notepad.

He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to push her buttons, but he didn’t want to stop.  This was so much more entertaining than answering her boring questions.  The more he talked about her, the less he had to talk about himself.

“Trevor, let’s talk about you.  Have you thought at all—
?”

He wouldn’t let her finish. “You know what?  I bet you go for older men—I bet you like them gray!  Maybe
even married, like the guy in the lobby?  You know, your own little sugar daddy?”

That was it.  She looked pissed.  “Trevor, I don’t know where
all of this is coming from, but I think we should just end the session here.  I’m not in the mood to sit here and be insulted.  Let’s just say we call it a day, okay?”  She got up from her chair and walked to the door.

Mission accomplished. 
“So we’re done here?” he asked.

She sighed, “Yes, Trevor we’re done.”  She held the door open for him.

He expected to feel relief at those words, but for some strange reason, he found himself feeling a little bit disappointed.

He shrugged his shoulders, got up, and walked out the door.