The Sole Survivors' Club

Chapter 16

Monica waved to Randy and watched the reporter back his car out of the motel parking slot. She turned to smile at Carl. “That shouldn’t have gone half as smoothly as it did. But you know, I feel like we’ve forgotten something.”

Carl laughed when Monica’s stomach gurgled. “Dinner?”

“That’s probably it, yeah.”

They walked a block from the motel to a pizza parlor. Though neither of them spoke much during dinner, the heavy feeling of dread had lifted somewhat. Steven would get out of the hospital before some well meaning doctor scrambled his brains with high voltage. Carl could cure Steven of his possession, and then Steven could look forward to a long life filled with road trips.

Partway through dinner, Monica thought of Bernice and tugged out her cell phone. Digging in her back pocket, she pulled out a card with the hospital’s number and dialed the number.

After transferring through to the right station, she said, “Hello, I was calling to find out how Bernice Schott is doing? I’m her niece.”

“Just a moment ma’am.” The nurse was silent while keys clattered on a keyboard in the background. “She’s listed in stable condition, but I’m afraid that’s all I know. I can have someone check on her if you want.”

Monica nodded more for herself than the nurse. “No, that’s fine. Stable is good, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” Monica hung up and sat back in the seat to slip the phone into her hip pocket. It occurred to her how another heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she sat up in her seat.

She beamed a happy smile at Carl. “She’s stable.”

“Good,” Carl said around a mouthful of pizza. He swallowed and returned her smile. “Are you?”

“Stable?” she asked. Carl nodded, already enjoying another bite of pizza. Monica resisted a snort when she thought, As addictions go, pizza and comics aren’t so bad.

She said, “Yeah, I think so. I feel better knowing about Rachel. We aren’t so alone with this problem, and now we may have an answer for why we can see them. I thought it was a stupid idea when Fred suggested it, but there may be something to group therapy after all.”

“Maybe because you don’t feel so alone with your problems?”

Monica bit into a slice of pizza, thinking the question over while she ate. After nearly a minute, she shook her head. “No, I’m less worried about my sanity because of it, but I feel better because I’m able to talk to someone else besides myself.”

Carl nodded, but remained silent.

Monica let the conversation die. Talking would bring their thoughts back to problems they didn’t have answers for, and just for the night, she wanted to focus on the small victory of freeing Steven from the hospital.

Carl slipped his hand around her waist as they walked out of the pizza parlor, and although Monica still felt afraid of letting Carl into her heart, the ache in her chest wasn’t entirely caused by fear.

Instead she felt a tremor of excitement, and the sentiment was reinforced every time she looked up to see Carl smiling at her.

The walk back to the motel was too brief for her. Monica unlocked her door and turned around to say good night, and suddenly she couldn’t find her voice.

In spite of being inexperienced, Monica could understand why Carl watched her with a longing expression. She knew he wanted her to invite him inside, and between her feelings of excitement and fear, she couldn’t make a decision about what she wanted.

She could see the same conflict playing itself out through Carl’s eyes, and they stared at each other until he took a step closer.

He leaned down to kiss her, and Monica closed her eyes. He licked her lower lip, and her voice rose in surprise as his tongue sought hers. For the next two seconds, she froze because she wasn’t sure if she liked being kissed or not.

She’d just come to the decision that she did when an image of Carl laying in a hospital bed flashed through her mind.

Then the thump of her heart was caused by fear.

Monica laid her hands on his chest and pushed him away. “Wait, please. I—I can’t...”

Carl stepped back, his expression becoming apologetic. “I’m sorry, I thought—”

“No, I...it’s just too soon for me.” Monica took his hand in both of hers. “I liked having you kiss me, but I can’t ask you to stay with me.” She made a quiet laugh. “My mother raised me to be better than that.”

Carl nodded before a mischievous smile thinned his lips. “Could I get away with two?”

Monica laughed, blushing as she looked away from him. “Maybe.”

Carl slipped her finger under her chin, raising her head.

His eyes searched hers, and when she nodded, he bowed his head to kiss her a second time. His lips lingered, and she leaned into him, sighing when he slipped his arm around her waist.

Then his second kiss became a third, fourth and fifth with no argument from Monica. When he stepped away from her again, she was acutely aware of how weak her legs felt.

She let out a shaky breath and opened the door. “Good night, Carl.”

“Good night. Pleasant dreams.”

Monica watched Carl walk to his room. Giving him a small wave, she stepped into her room and shut the door.

Leaning against it, she let her legs give out and slid to the floor. “You know it.”

Even after showering and getting into bed, the need for sleep would not come. The memory of Carl kissing her replayed endlessly, and each time it began again, her heart thumped fast and hard.

The memory worked itself into a fantasy, and then the fantasy faded into a dream as Monica drifted to sleep, a soft smile staying on her lips throughout most of the night.