Page 91 of Switch!
“You should turn around,” Patrick says.
“So you can get dressed?” Jesse asks, but he knows that’s not the reason why.
Patrick’s eyes were wide before, but they’re absolutely wild with desperation now. He’s going to kill himself. I’m sure of it.
“Please turn around,” Patrick says. He reaches with his free hand for the semi-transparent shower curtain and pulls it shut. Like he doesn’t want blood to get everywhere. He’s no longer messing around.
Get closer, I plead.
“I won’t turn away,” Jesse says, still ignoring me. “If you’re going to do this, you’re doing it to both of us.”
Patrick hesitates. The sound of approaching sirens makes me tense. The police! I’m not the only one who hears them coming.
“Sorry,” Patrick whimpers, squinting his eyes shut against the inevitable explosion.
No choice left. I launch myself out of Jesse’s body. The void I enter consumes me, threatening to extinguish my soul. I’m blind yet again, but I’ve learned that I don’t have to be. I will myself to see… and it works! A sickly brown light in the shape of a man appears ahead of me, flickering with agitation. I dart toward it and feel impact. The world remains dark, but I’m no longer alone. I can hear his thoughts.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Goodbye.
I have seconds, maybe even less. If I don’t get this right— No room for doubt. Concentrate!
Trigger wet with sweat, temple sore from hard steel pressing against it, arm aching from holding the same position for so long…
STOP!
I open my eyes. Through the shower curtain I can see Jesse’s distorted form, his hands covering his mouth in anticipation. My finger is clenching the trigger. Patrick began to pull it, but not far enough. Yet. Jesse rushes forward to rip open the shower curtain, his face gaunt. Stan isn’t far behind.
“It’s okay, Jesse,” I say in a voice that sounds strange to my ears. “I’ve got him now.”
Two sets of eyes stare back at me, occasionally darting to the gun, so I veryverycarefully point it at the ceiling before relaxing my finger. Then I bend over and set it on the corner of the tub.
“You were right,” I continue. “He’s really cold. His robe is hanging on the back of the bathroom door.”
Neither man moves.
I wish we were alone so I could explain more openly. “Jesse,” I try again. “It’s me. Travis.”
“You know this guy?” Stan asks, looking between us. “Hey wait, you said your name was Patrick.”
I ignore him, focusing my attention on Jesse, wanting him to see that I’m being honest. I wonder what he’s thinking. It feels strange not to know. He stares back at me before scowling and extending a hand. “Do you mind if I help you out?”
“Good idea.” Patrick’s legs are stiff. I get the impression that he’s been standing in here for at least an hour. Maybe more. His thoughts are a jumbled mess. I’m having trouble understanding them.
My hand touches Jesse’s. Now would be a good time to switch back. I’m about to when uniformed officers burst into the room. One has a gun extended and pointed at me.
“Police! Nobody move!”
Jesse does anyway. He releases my hand so that he can use his body to shield mine.
“We’re paramedics,” he says. “Everything is fine now.”
“There’s a gun,” shouts one of the officers. “Hands up!”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Stan grumbles as he complies. “It’s not going to shoot itself, you know!”
The officers push him out of the room. They try the same with Jesse, who resists. As for me, I’m yanked from the tub. My arms are pinned behind my back and I’m shoved against a wall.
“What are you doing?” Jesse cries. “That’s my patient! He needs medical attention.”
