Chapter 13: Confessions and Medical Supplies

Hands hurt. Arms hurt. Knuckles raw.

Enough.

Joey sat slumped on the floor of the small utility room staring at his sloppily wound bandages. The loose bindings of gauze kept slipping off, exposing raw and tender flesh to the air. Flexing his fingers hurt, and holding anything was agony. Even trying to fix his own bandages hurt, so he was reduced to just staring at them drooping from his hands, and he ground his teeth in frustration.

Just what the hell does she want?

The unopened first aid kit lay on the floor where it landed after he had managed to nudge it off the shelf, right next to the cursed scrub brush and bucket. He stared at the brush and fumed, noting the blood stains on the handle. His blood.

He was just counting the minutes.

Joey had decided enough was enough. No more. No more scrubbing, and no more pain. He had gone on strike, and had already been discovered not doing his job by another shelter worker. They all had their instructions to tell her, so it was only a matter of time before she found out.

The door opened. He looked up and saw Tricia in the doorway looking critical.

"Get back to work," she barked.

"No."

"I said get back to..."

"I'm not doing this anymore," Joey declared.

"If you don't pick up that brush and get back to work right now, I won't sign off these hours."

"Fine. I'll just go somewhere else!"

"No. You're staying here where I can keep an eye on you."

He grumbled under his breath.

Tricia took a step into the utility room. "You got something to say to me?" she challenged.

"No," he muttered.

"If you've got something to say, say it."

Enough is enough, he decided. Time to say something. He jumped up and kicked the brush and bucket, startling Tricia and sending them scattering across the floor. "What is it you want?" Joey yelled at her. "We made a deal! Remember? We made a promise to each other! You're good for me, and I'm good for you. We're family! But what is this?" He held his raw hands out to her. "How is this good? I'm in pain! I don't want to do this anymore because it hurts! And I can't figure out why you think this is right. This isn't punishment. This is torture!"

Tricia stood in an awkward silence, watching him. Her face went blank. Joey couldn't tell what it was she was feeling. Impatience? Guilt? He decided it was guilt, and he pressed on.

"Snow Angel was right there, in my room. And I know what everyone thought I wanted with her, but you all were wrong. All I could think about was the fact that she could heal me. She could fix my hands, but you didn't let her. You want me in pain. Now how is that good, huh? How is that part of our deal?"

She dropped her gaze to the floor, and Joey saw her sway ever so slightly. She remained silent. I'm getting to her, he realized. I'm getting through to her. And he continued.

"Okay! I understand. You're pissed off at me for torturing those jerks. I get that! And you told me that torture is wrong. But you're torturing me for torturing them! So how is that right? Huh? What exactly do you think you are teaching me? You're just as bad as I am."

Tricia gave a barely noticeable shudder, and she gulped some air. Then her eyes rose back to his, and she stared him down with a penetrating gaze of determination. Very quietly, she whispered.

"Go on."

Joey blinked. It wasn't the reaction he was expecting, or one that he understood. She's not feeling guilty, he realized. She looked almost triumphant. He thought about what he just said, and chills ran through his spine. He had just confessed, and he understood.

"I mean..." He flustered. "I get it. I understand. I shouldn't have tortured them." The confession hurt, but now that it was out he realized it was what he needed. "It was wrong. I got angry, and I lost control. They were torturing us, and I wanted it to stop." Tears gathered in his eyes, and his voice broke. "I wanted them dead and beaten. I was tired of them. I was tired of them picking on me all the time, and I lost it."

"Go on," she encouraged.

Joey shook in his shoes. He was still looking for something to keep his anger alive. "I ... I was wrong. I was the one that broke the deal first. And I can see that hurt you." He found it, and the anger flared in him once more. "But that doesn't excuse you!" he yelled. "They hurt me, I hurt them back, and that was wrong. I hurt you, you hurt me back, that's still wrong. So what is it you're trying to do? What do you want?"

He was crying now, and Tricia stood silently for a moment, watching, and thinking. She started walking closer to him and spoke in a low, controlled voice.

"I have been waiting all week for you to call me on this. But let's get something straight. There is a big difference between what I'm doing, and what you did." She bent down and pushed her face right into his. Joey stumbled back in terror and she glared at him. "I. Never. Touched. You." She let that sink in. "All of that pain you are going through right now, you did to yourself."

She held the glare for another second, and then pulled away. Joey realized he was holding his breath, and started breathing again. Tricia picked up the first aid kit from the floor, put it on the shelf, opened it, and firmly took his wrists, leading him towards the kit.

Joey watched dumbfounded as she unwrapped the loose bandages on his hands. "I need to know something," she said almost conversationally as she removed his old bandages for the first time. "And I want you to be honest with me. In all this time, when you were angry with me, did you ever want to hurt me?"

He hesitated, unsure what to say as she exposed the raw flesh of his wounded hands. Some of those wounds came from him hitting Sandy's punching bag while he was imagining punching Tricia out.

"I'll be honest with you," she continued. "There were times this week I got so frustrated with you that I just wanted to smack you. Hit you, try to knock some sense into you. But I didn't. So tell me, and be honest. Did you want to hit me?"

Joey swallowed nervously and nodded. "Yeah," he admitted.

She took out some alcohol wipes, antibiotics, and fresh gauze, and gently cleaned his hands. The alcohol stung, but her touch was gentle. "I'm not surprised," she said. "Pain does that to us. We get hurt, and we want to hurt right back. That's the way it always works. And when we hurt someone back, we always hope they get the message to stop hurting us. But that part never works. And you would think we could figure that out, but so often we don't." She had finished cleaning and applying ointment to his hands, and started wrapping fresh gauze tightly around his hands. "So I want you to tell me something. I want you to think about those three boys you hurt. What do you think they are thinking about you right now? Hmm?" She continued wrapping. "You think they are terrified of you? You think they are frightened into submission, or do you think they are planning their revenge?"

Joey swallowed and nodded. "They're probably pissed at me."

Tricia nodded with him. "Justifiably. And they are waiting for you. They know they are going to see you again on Monday, and that scares the life out of me." Her voice almost broke as she said that. "I won't be there, and I won't be able to protect you." She looked up from her task, and he could see her eyes tearing. "They will have had all of this week to prepare themselves, to boost their anger and courage just to take it out on you. I know this, and the school knows this, and the school may take extra precautions to protect you for a while, and those boys know this, so they may just wait until Wednesday, Friday, next week, or next month to try to hurt you. And this terrifies me."

Joey thought about them, and shuddered.

"But what those boys are not prepared for," she continued. " ... is you apologizing to them."

He tried to imagine himself apologizing to them, and shook his head. "I don't think that would work. They are still going to be angry with me."

"Maybe. But it worked with you."

He frowned and squinted. "Huh?"

She fastened one bandage tightly and started working on the other. "Remember the first night we met? You were pretty pissed at me, and I apologized to you. Were you still angry after that?"

Joey thought back. He remembered that night, remembered seeing Tricia for the first time, looking stunning and gorgeous on the street while asking people about his father. He remembered the video montage from her report with all the jokes about him, and how angry he got at her. And she did apologize to him. He swallowed again and shook his head. "No. I wasn't," he answered. "But these guys, they're not like me. I don't think they'll change if I apologize."

"You don't know that."

"No, you don't know these guys. They..."

"Sweetheart." Joey stopped. "You may be right," Tricia conceded. "It may be that they won't change their minds if you apologize to them. But one thing I do know is that they definitely won't change if you don't." She wrapped the last bandage tightly around his hand. "So if you ever want them to be respectful to you, your only option is to be nice to them, because pain and fear will not work." She sighed. "Being nice to people is not always easy, and it never comes with a guarantee that they will be nice back to you, which if you think about it, makes that the ultimate act of courage."

He squinted in confusion, and Tricia smiled at him for the first time in days. "Think about it. If you are an asshole to someone, they'll be an asshole right back to you. It's very predictable. But if you're nice, you really have no idea how they will react. So which takes more courage? Walking into a fight that you know is coming, or walking into a situation where you have no idea what will happen?"

Joey thought about this for a long time. Tears filled his eyes. "I'm sorry," he finally said.

"Don't just tell me that. Tell them that too."

He shifted, blinked away his tears, and looked at her expectantly, wanting a hug. Tricia smiled in recognition, and she held her arms open for him. "Come here." He fell into her arms and started sobbing the moment he touched her, and Tricia held him tight and rocked him. "It's okay," she soothed.

"I'm sorry," he said, crying into her chest and holding her tightly.

"Me too," she said, holding him and caressing his back.

They held each other for a long time, with Joey crying and sniffing, and Tricia comforting him, stroking his hair and rubbing his back. Her warmth and softness, and the fullness of her breasts eventually started to have their predicable effect, and Joey started nuzzling his face into her bosom.

"Okay, that's enough," Tricia said, gently extracting him. Joey dejectedly stepped back and wiped his eyes, and watched her as she straightened her blouse over her luscious chest.

He licked his lips. "Um ... Can we go home?" he asked carefully.

She gave him a smirk. "I'd love to, but you're still grounded, and you still have hours of obligation left. We should get back to work." He sighed and glanced at the scrub brush and bucket, and Tricia shook her head. "No. You don't have to do that anymore. We'll find you something easy to do."

They stepped out of the utility room and she put her arm around his shoulder. He leaned into her, and they walked down the short hallway together. "Thanks," he said. He thought and frowned, and looked at his bandaged hands. "I don't know what to do."

"Actually, I have an idea. An easy job you would like," she said, giving him a squeeze. "Do you know how to operate a camera?"

"Ppphpphhphhphhhhphh..."

"Would you stop making that noise?"

"I'm bored."

"Count the cars, then."

"I hate traffic. If you would have let me fly us there, we would have been there by now."

"We're almost there. Just be patient. It takes at least half an hour to get anywhere in this city."

"Why can't we fly? I thought you liked flying."

"I do. But I like it when I'm the one doing the flying."

They were in Annie's van. Annie was driving, and Emily rode in the front passenger seat, fidgeting and tugging uncomfortably on her seat belt. She was no longer green, but disguised in a spell that rendered her as a fair-skinned white blond. She played with the power window again, lowering the window and sticking her head out.

"Will you stop that?"

"I like having the wind in my hair when I travel!"

"Preaching to the choir, shvester. But when I'm driving, I'm responsible." She glanced over at her passenger. "Think of this as a Disney ride. Keep your hands, feet, and head inside the car at all times."

Emily grumbled and sat back. "I'm not allowed at Disney Land anymore."

Annie gave her a quizzical look. Emily shrugged. "I was playing Tinkerbell one year," she explained. "I swear. One kid catches you sucking off Peter Pan, and they go nuts." She sighed. "Are we there yet?"

"You know, if you ever go on chemotherapy, you're going to want someone to drive you."

She pondered it, and agreed, nodding. "I guess so. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Annie glanced at her shorts and T-shirt again and grunted in frustration.

"What?" Asked Emily.

"Of all the things you could have worn, why that?"

"I like it!"

"I thought you were going to make some clothes?"

"I made the shoes! See?" She kicked her feet up, displaying her simple crystal-white slip-on flats. "Tricia's are too big for me. It just takes a lot of time to do a whole outfit, so I just borrowed the rest."

"But I thought you could just, like, snap your fingers and make dresses."

"I can do that at home," she explained. "That's where I've laid those foundation spells. I just didn't bring them with me."

Annie glanced at Emily again, giving her a critical glare. "Emily, you do realize the whole point of the skin change and the civilian clothes is to hide the fact that you are Snow Angel."

She nodded. "Yeah, I know."

She gave her another critical look. "You're wearing a Snow Angel T-shirt!"

"Don't you just love it?" she giggled.

"You're supposed to be blending in! Hiding!"

"And I am!" she exclaimed. "Who would expect Snow Angel to wear a Snow Angel T-shirt?"

Annie rolled her eyes. "Didn't Tricia have anything else?"

"Yeah, she did." She wadded up the front of her shirt, pulled it up to her face, and inhaled deeply, relishing the scent. "But I like this one. It smells like her."

Annie squinted, frowned, thought about it for a moment, and stared at Emily again.

"Emily?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you go through her dirty laundry to get that?"

She grinned and giggled mischievously.

"Oy, vey!"

They soon pulled into the parking lot, and Annie slipped the van into a front handicapped spot. As soon as she parked and shut off the engine, Emily eagerly unhooked her seat belt, threw the door open, jumped out, and slammed it shut. "About time!" she moaned. "So Annie, which..." She looked around. "Annie?"

Annie was still inside the van, shifting out of the driver's chair and into her wheelchair. Emily propped her arms inside the passenger window and peered back inside, watching her as she awkwardly shifted from one chair to the other. "Oh. Sorry. Do you need any help?"

"No, I got it."

Emily frowned. "Why do you have a driver's seat? Wouldn't it be easier to just take that seat out?"

"I could, but I'd still have to secure my wheelchair to this spot. It's not like a seat belt will hold me down if my wheelchair rolls around," Annie explained. "And besides, sometimes Trish drives. Put your feet on the ground."

Emily scowled and dropped a foot, her body jolting as her heels finally hit the pavement.

Annie extended the automatic ramp, rolled down, and used her car remote to retract the ramp while Emily stood by fidgeting impatiently. The superhero pulled a mirror out of her small purse and checked her face. "I need more blush. I look sickly."

"You're going to the doctor," Annie reminded her. "You're supposed to look sick. Stop worrying about it." With the van closed and locked, Annie turned her chair towards the professional building. "Come on!" And together, they went into the office.

The front waiting area was mostly empty, occupied only by a young woman and her infant. The walls were covered in drug advertisements and a couple of tasteful landscapes. An aquarium bubbled in one corner next to a pile of toys and a table full of magazines. Emily smiled and waved at the baby while Annie rolled up to the front counter. "Oy!" she called out to the receptionist, waving her hand up high to catch her attention. "Down here!"

The receptionist poked her head over the counter and saw Annie. "Oh! Hello?"

"I have a new patient for you." She nodded at Emily, who was currently squinting and frowning as she tried to read a drug advertisement on the wall, her lips moving quietly as she sounded out the name of the drug.

The receptionist handed Annie the sign-in sheet and a clipboard. "Sign in, and fill out these forms."

"Here," Annie said as she poked Emily in the stomach with the clipboard. "Sign in!" As Emily took the clipboard, Annie rolled next to a chair and started looking through the new patient information forms.

Emily grimaced at the sign-in sheet and groaned in disgust. "Do I have to fill out paperwork?" she whined.

"It's just a sign-in sheet. I'll help you with the rest."

She stared at the sign-in sheet again, frowned, sighed, and plopped in the chair next to Annie. "Hate paperwork," she muttered. She shifted and got comfortable in the chair, sitting cross-legged, took the attached pen, and started writing.

"Urmff..."she grunted after writing a single letter.

"Uhrr..."

"Ehrr..."

Annie glanced up and saw Emily biting her lip, scowling, and grunting as she wrote.

"Would you just write your name down?"

Emily let out a breath of stress and flexed her fingers. "I'm working here." She managed to scrawl another letter, grunt once more, and flexed her fingers again.

"Oh, give me that!" Annie said, pulling the sign-in sheet from her. "Honestly, you're like a child sometimes. Why can't you just..." But she stopped as she saw what Emily had written on the sign-in sheet so far.

A-L-I-C.

She frowned and glanced at Emily. "What is this?" The woman with the baby looked up at them in interest.

Emily pulled a driver's licence out of her purse. "Here. Can you do it? My fingers hurt."

Annie read the driver's licence. The name on it read 'Alice Springs'. She cocked her head and looked at Emily questioningly. "Why does it..." Emily glared at her, and nodded ever so slightly towards the woman with the baby. "Oh," she said, figuring out that 'Alice Springs' was a false identity, which made it a lie, which would make it difficult for Snow Angel to write. "Why don't I fill that out for you?"

"Thank you!" she sing-songed, and eagerly gave Annie the sign-in sheet and picked up a magazine.

"No, you fill out this one," she said, handing her the new patient form.

She grumbled again. "I can't fill this out."

"Do what you can," Annie said, quickly writing down 'Alice Springs' on the sign-in sheet and turning it in.

Emily shifted in her seat and looked through the new patient forms, scanning the entries for things she could enter without lying. "Name ... address ... social security number ... date of birth ... employer ... Maritial status!" She broke into a huge grin on finding something she could fill in. "Single! ... Sex! ... Do I circle who I have sex with or..."

"Circle 'Female'," Annie chided. Under her breath, she added "Not enough ink in that pen to circle everything you have sex with."

Emily giggled delightfully and kicked her feet up into the chair next to her. She continued with the form. "Drug allergies ... none. Email address ... lots." She wrote down one for Alice Springs. She skipped a few more identifying parents and spouse. "Do I have a living will?" she read, and cocked an eyebrow at Annie. "What's a living will?"

"If you have to ask, you don't have one."

"Is that a regular will that was raised from the dead? ... No." She wrote down, and continued. "Do I use illegal drugs?" She looked back up at Annie with a worried look on her face. "If so, explain," she recited.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then noticed the young mother still watching them with interest.

"Tell the truth," Annie advised.

Emily groaned as she returned to the paperwork. "I'm going to need more paper."

Annie took one of the other forms, flipped it over, and handed it to her. "Here. I'll take that. You write your confession."

"Maybe I should..."

"You should be like Snow Angel," said the woman with the baby. "Tell the truth."

They both looked up at her surprised. "Excuse me? What?" Emily asked.

"Your T-shirt. You're a fan of hers, aren't you?"

Emily chewed on her lip, thinking, and cocked her head. "I wouldn't say THAT," she stressed.

"I would," Annie said. "She's a fan."

"No," Emily shook her head. "This just isn't my shirt."

"You should always tell the truth. Always," said the woman. "Be like Snow Angel. She always tells the truth."

Emily pondered this, opened her mouth to speak, paused, closed it, opened it again, closed it again, and basically made three false starts to speak while Annie watched with a growing nervousness. Finally she shrugged and said "Okay!" and started writing.

Annie grinned, and turned to the young woman. "How about you? Are you a fan of Snow Angel too?"

Emily gave Annie a questioning stare as the woman shifted her baby on her lap. "Oh yes!" she exclaimed. "Huge fan! She is the reason I have a family now. You know, if it weren't for Snow Angel, I would have lost my husband, and I certainly wouldn't have this little guy in my life." And she bounced her baby on her knee. The baby gurgled and stared at Emily.

"Really?" said Annie. She gave Emily a quick glance and asked the woman "What happened?

The woman smiled as she recollected. "My husband and I, we disagreed about kids. I wanted them, but he didn't. We used to fight about it constantly." Her smile fell. "But then a year and a half ago he was in this horrible car accident. His car went off a bridge, and fell into the Potomac."

Annie gasped. "Oh, no!" Emily frowned and thought back, remembering.

The woman smiled again. "But she saved him. She rescued him."

"Oh, I remember that!" Emily exclaimed. Then she clapped one hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

Annie shrugged and nodded towards Emily. "Told you she was a fan," she told the woman. "Go on. What happened next?"

"Well, when I got the call and found him in the hospital, I was terrified, you know? But when I saw him, he was a changed man. The first thing he said to me was 'I want us to have kids.' It was like, he was trapped in this car sinking into the river, facing death, and all he could think about was me and the fact that we never had kids." She shuddered slightly.

"Facing death will change a person," Annie said.

The woman nodded, and cradled her baby. "It did," she agreed. "We went straight home to try. Nine months and half an hour later, we had Danny here."

As the three women giggled over that, Doctor Patina Booth came in. She waved at Annie in recognition, and turned to the young mother. "Mrs. Hanson?" The woman picked up her purse, baby, and baby-support-bag.

"Good luck with your confessions," she said to Emily, and she followed the doctor out of the waiting room.