Checked Again Read Online Free PDF Page A

doctor? About the fact that I didn’t
mention my appointment this Wednesday? About it being time for him to go home?
    He
places my appointment card on the nightstand beside my bed, telling me that
I’ll be seeing a Dr. Kiser two Wednesdays from now.
    I
push out a “thank you” before faking another sneeze and thus ensuring that he
won’t try to shake my hand again.
    It
works. He says goodbye and leaves without touching me. Alleluia. I’m talking
a major Alleluia…like on Easter morning at a high Mass. Bells and stained glass
windows. Or maybe it should be bigger than that. Like with everyone standing for
Handel’s “ Messiah. ” That would be Hallelujah, though…
    Mom’s
back, standing at my door with a tray of food.
    “Honey,
why don’t you eat some lunch? It’s been hours since you last had anything.”
    She
doesn’t wait for an answer. She brings the tray over to my bed, over to me.
    Hmm…this
is the first selection of food that she’s brought me that doesn’t add up to a
heavyweight champion’s allotted calories for a week. A bagel. Plain. A banana.
Some grapes. Juice. And yogurt—fat free yogurt. Wow.
    I
give her a grateful smile, thank her, and grab the bagel, the juice, and the
yogurt (no more than four hundred calories in total if I only eat half of the
bagel). Mom puts the tray back on my desk “for later” and then settles into the
rocking chair to keep me company as I eat. We talk for a few minutes about
tonight’s plans, and then the house phone rings. Mom only gets up to answer it
after I encourage her to do so. She smiles and heads out of my room.
    And
I eat. My growling stomach seems to burn right through everything I
swallow…like it’s just been waiting for some food. After I finish, I put my
plate (not empty—the bottom half of my bagel is still on it) on my nightstand,
turn on the television (where a guy is making lemon chicken), and sleep.
     
     
    BUZZ.
    I
wake up to the sound of my phone buzzing. I have no idea how long I’ve been
sleeping…no idea what time it is. Before I even open my eyes, I notice…I feel…a
puddle of drool sticking to my cheek. Awesome.
    {Justin
Timberlake glides in with “SexyBack . ” }
    I
continue to laze in my slobbery mess until my phone reminds me that I have a
text message.
    All
right. I’m coming. I
glance out my open door and then take a couple seconds to just listen. I hear
distant shuffles of feet. Cabinets opening downstairs. Mom is clearly in the
kitchen.
    I
hear the garage door. Dad’s home now too. Must be around 5:30 p.m. More
cabinets open. Pots and pans clang together. The kitchen door opens and closes.
Now…a murmur of voices. Mom and Dad discussing their days, I’m sure. I can just
make out the words “client” and “policies” coming from Dad’s low voice. And
from Mom, I keep hearing “food” and “eat” and my name.
    This
could go on for a bit. I should be safe if I just get up for a second to
retrieve my phone.
    One.
Two. Three. MOVE. I peel my head off of my pillow, push back my purple bedspread,
get up and out of bed, go over to my dresser for my phone, and jump back in
bed…all in a really fast count of three. Excell—
    “Callie,
honey?  Is everything okay?” Mom yells from downstairs.
    DAMN.
DAMN. DAMN.
    I
yell back. “Yeah, Mom. Everything is fine. I just, uh…” What? Dropped something
that sounded like feet sprinting across a room? Like a weird bouncy ball or a
yo-yo or—
    “Are
you ready to get up? Your sisters will be here soon.” It sounds like she’s at
the foot of the stairs now.
    “Sure,
Mom. Thanks.”
    “I’ll
be up in a minute. I’ve got to get the macaroni in the oven.”
    Okay—I
have a minute. And I have my phone.
    One
text message.
    From…from
Unknown Number.
    Him.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter
3
    communication
     
     
    MY
HANDS FEEL FROZEN. SO does the rest of me. But I have to know what it says.
What he says.
    One.
    Two.
    Three.
    I
pick up my thumb and make it push the button to