Chapter Seventy-Seven
Lucky peered intently into the mirror and grimaced, moving his cheek in one direction and his chin in another. He circled the electric razor over his face repeatedly, pressing down hard to try to get a closer shave. It was frustrating because he liked the smoother feel that he got from a regular razor, and that was the type that his dad had taught him to use back when he was fourteen. Lucky flicked off the button on the razor and set it on the back of the porcelain sink. He leaned in closer for a better look and gave himself a satisfied smile when he saw that he hadn't missed any places.
Lucky rubbed his hand thoughtfully over his chin -- it had been months since he'd seen his face this clearly, and it wasn't such a bad face after all, he decided. Lucky stroked the swollen place over his split lip. It was healing nicely, but was still sore if he smiled a lot or drank orange juice. The fierce bruises from his accidental door encounter had all faded away but left behind a few permanent reminders. He had a faint white scar running perpendicular to his left eyebrow, a healed laceration over the place where he had the hairline fracture. Lucky turned his face left and right. You could hardly tell that he'd broken his nose. The septum wasn't damaged, so it didn't turn askew, but the bridge seemed slightly broader in response to the broken and reset bones. Lucky stepped back and looked again. It did give him a more mysterious, tougher look, and that was acceptable to him.
Now the hair. When was the last time it had been cut? He couldn't remember. He didn't think it had been cut since he returned from Faison's compound. Lucky bent in closer and squinted as he looked at his hair in the mirror and held up the ends with his fingertips, inspecting its full eighteen inch length. Yes, except for the trim that Emily had given him, his hair hadn't been touched since he came back to Port Charles. He didn't know how it had happened, really. His parents had been distracted with their marriage problems when he first came back, and no one mentioned his hair or the need for a haircut. He'd been trying so hard to cope with being around people again that he paid no attention to his personal appearance. He'd worn his dad's clothes, baggy as they were on his teenaged body, until Luke grew tired of missing a favorite pair of pants or a shirt that he'd planned on wearing. His dad purchased Lucky some jeans and teeshirts, dropping them on his bed one day. He'd only lived with his parents for two months before he gathered his meager possessions into a garbage bag and walked out.
He'd started drifting around the Cortland
Street area soon after he was released by Faison. He quickly met up with Joey and starting
scoring drugs occasionally with the money that his father had given him, money that was in
Lucky's bank account at the time of his "death." Lucky had acquired a taste for
chemical distraction while in the compound, and his return to Port Charles didn't change
that. He hung around Jake's sometimes - he enjoyed chewing the fat with the crusty bar
owner. One day, he noticed that Jake had posted a sign for a worker and an available
apartment. Two hours after Jake hired him on, Lucky returned to 24 Royal Street and began
packing.
*** Lucky searched his room one more
time to make sure that he didn't leave anything behind. There were no extras to pack or
move. The walls were bare, no posters or framed photos graced the room, and no books, or
CD's filled a small bookcase next to the closet. Lucky had stuffed four outfits, one pair
of sneakers, socks, briefs, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste and a cigar box full of his
illegal drugs into the garbage bag. With a stony face betraying no emotion, he wrote a
short note to his parents.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I found a job at Jake's and it comes with an apartment, so I decided to move. I packed up my stuff, and the room is clean. I don't have a phone in my new apartment, but you can stop by some time if you want.
Tell Lulu I love her and will miss her.
Bye.
Lucky
It was 11:00 AM. Luke was running the business at his club, Lulu was at school, and Laura was probably at Wyndemere. Lucky turned off the light and closed the door to his room. He walked carefully down the stairs, holding up his garbage bag so it didn't drag on the floor. At the front door, he turned once more and surveyed the interior of his now former home. He grabbed the front door handle, stepped across the threshold, and slammed the door shut. ***
Lucky brushed his hair repeatedly until it had a lustrous shine. He parted it in the middle and brushed it to either side. He took both sides of his hair and made a veil so that only his eyes peered out from the light brown color. He laughed out loud and let the hair swing back down onto his shoulders.
It was only 8:00AM, but Lucky was ready for Tony to arrive and take him to church. Tony had given him his good clothes and shoes the day before, so he could look nice. Lucky rubbed his immaculate leather shoes again with a wad of toilet tissue, glancing at his watch every five minutes.
~*~*~*~
"Hey, Tony," said Lucky as he sat next to Tony in his Jeep Cherokee. "Can we go somewhere to get my hair cut next weekend? I'm ready for a change." Tony raised his eyebrows and glanced at Lucky. Tony had never commented on Lucky's personal appearance as long as he was cleaned up. He figured it was one more pressure the kid didn't need. But, Lucky's hair had grown so long that Tony wondered at times if it were Cousin It from the Adam's Family or his nephew peering at him beneath all that hair.
"Most places that cut hair aren't open on Sunday," Tony commented. "But I'm sure we could arrange for an appointment with Bobbie's hairdresser, maybe on a Saturday. We might give a barber a heart attack if we showed up at his door. Do you want your aunt to make you an appointment?"
"Okay," Lucky said as he resumed looking out the window at the passing scenery.
~*~*~*~
10:50AM
Tony and Lucky entered the sanctuary of the church that they'd been attending regularly before Lucky's breakdown. Lucky pointed to an empty pew far back near the organist and away from the crowds that gathered near the middle of the sanctuary. As usual, only a couple of people were seated toward the front in that nowhere man's land where a person was sure to catch the eyes of a minister intent on a sermon.
A family with three children that ranged in age from infant to preschooler sat in front of Tony and Lucky. Lucky was busy rifling through the hymnal with his head bent down, perusing the various hymns and imagining the guitar accompaniments that he would play for several of them. He liked to look through the sources of the hymns to discover which countries they were from, and in which year they were composed.
The sanctuary began to hum with people laughing and talking before the service, but Lucky tuned them out. He could feel someone's eyes on him, and it made him uneasy for a moment until he glanced up and saw the pretty brown eyes of a little girl about four years of age. She was staring at him with the intensity of a small child not yet versed in the ways of social etiquette. Lucky smiled back at her with a broad smile that spoke of his love for his little sister Lulu. The little girl grew shy and pulled on her mother's sleeve.
"Mommy," she said. The mother shushed the child and tried to get her to sit back down on the pew. The girl persisted in standing up and facing Lucky. "Mommy, look," she insisted. The mother shifted slightly and glanced behind her, offering a brief apologetic smile to Tony and Lucky. As the mother turned back to face the front of the sanctuary, the little girl said loudly, "Mommy, didn't you see? It's Jesus. He's sitting behind us. Look!" The mother gently pulled the girl down next to her and whispered in her ear. "No, it is!" she protested. "See?" The girl pointed to the stained glass window next to the pew with the painted glass portrait of a young man with long brown hair kneeling and praying beside a rock.
By this time, Tony was barely containing his laughter, and Lucky was blushing furiously. Tony leaned over to Lucky and whispered, "Sure you still want to cut that hair?" Lucky gave him a dirty look and resumed reading the hymnal.
Later in the service, Lucky reflected on how good it felt to sing and be positive about something for a change. It took him out of the mentality of concentrating on his own problems all the time. He even smiled and gave a tiny wave to the little girl in front of him when she resumed her spying mission.
~*~*~*~
"I'm hurting myself," complained Lucky as he came back with another plate full of food from the all you can eat buffet. "I can't help it. All I've been eating is hospital food for the last few months, and this is so good in comparison."
Tony nodded. "This place has good food. That's why they're so busy. We were lucky to find a seat. At least with all these people here, you know the food is fresh," he commented.
Lucky didn't reply as he inhaled another piece of lasagna, a slice of garlic bread, a spoonful of potato salad and a forkful of green beans. Tony looked at him and smiled. It was so good to see Lucky with a healthy teenaged appetite and the correct amount of weight on his bones. The kid's bruises were healed, and he could now hold meaningful conversations on a variety of topics. Life felt like it was definitely taking a turn in a positive direction. Tony rose and headed for the dessert bar. He returned with a cookie, a slice of banana bread and a cupful of vanilla soft serve ice cream.
Lucky looked over Tony's selections and pointed toward the ice cream. "You know that's the most common source of food poisoning in restaurants, don't you?"
Tony looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?" he asked.
"I read in USA Today that soft serve ice cream is a hazard because of the milk and all of the people handling it. It's worse than potato salad," he said with a mouthful of food, gesturing to the mound of it on his own plate.
Tony's brows knit together. He pushed aside the ice cream and picked up a cookie. "Last thing I need is food poisoning," he stated. "I have surgery first thing Monday morning. How did you become this deep well of useful information?"
Lucky shrugged. "I read all of the newspapers and magazines that they have available in the hospital. I get bored. Time magazine is my favorite," he continued. "They have good commentaries on the political issues. I'm old enough to vote now, so I want to keep up with what's going on in the world."
Tony sighed. "Like I said, Mr. Brain, that's you. The rest of us ignorantly walk into salmonella land. How did you like that sermon today?" he asked, changing the subject.
"It was pretty good. I could pay attention to what he said without getting lost or falling asleep. Did you hear that baby behind us? It was imitating him, I think. It was going, 'Uhahuhahaererrehugah' like it was trying to follow his tone of voice. That was funny."
Tony nodded, pleased that Lucky was able to relax and enjoy himself on his first excursion away from the hospital.
~*~*~*~
Lucky felt a little blue after his Sunday outing was over and he returned to the hospital. He wanted to tell someone about his eventful day, the first break that he'd had in a long time. Lucky reached for a pen and paper and positioned himself on his bed, resting his stomach on its surface and dangling his feet up in the air. He clicked his sneakers together and looked pensive.
Lucky's thoughts drifted to Emily. He smiled as he remembered how excited she was when he gave her the heart necklace for Christmas. He heard her shrieks of happiness in his mind, and he recalled the endless passionate kiss that they shared that night. That was almost good enough to last for a couple of months, he laughed to himself. Man, where did she learn to kiss like that? he wondered. Maybe I should thank Juan, that prick, for something after all. Lucky chuckled. Shut up, Lucky, he reprimanded himself. That wasn't very nice.
Lucky grabbed a sheet of paper and began writing.
Dear Emily,
Tony and I went to church and brunch today. It was so nice to get outside and do something different. Next weekend, I'm going home with Tony to spend the entire weekend. Can I call you and talk to you then? Maybe on Saturday night? I'm not supposed to rush things and see everyone all at once, but I sure would like to hear your voice.
I'm thinking about the last time I saw you before Christmas. I'm remembering exchanging gifts and of course I can't stop thinking about your kisses. (Sorry I can't help myself). I love you.
Love,
Lucky
Lucky still felt restless, like he had the need to express himself, so he picked up another piece of paper and began writing another letter.
Dear Dad,
I was thinking today about when I first came back from being kidnapped. I wish that we could have talked more then. You were busy fighting with Mom, and I was busy hiding out from everyone. I guess what I'm saying is that it is not only your fault what happened after I got back. I know now that I could have asked for help. I was taking drugs almost as soon as I returned. I don't think you knew that. I want to say that if I told you about it, I believe that you would have helped me and maybe I didn't do enough to help myself.
I went to church with Tony today. Next weekend I go home for two days. I can think more clearly now, and it feels good. Hopefully, I can get back to my life.
Your son,
Lucky
Lucky sat up and leaned back on his pillows. He grew pensive and wondered about his mother. He glanced at the letters that he had just written, and his eyes grew shiny with unshed tears. He hadn't communicated with his mother in two years. The hate letter that she sent him over Christmas was always present in his mind. Lucky's right hand slid over his scarred wrist, and he stroked it lightly with his fingertips, feeling both the indentations and raised places that his actions had caused. How had things turned out this way and why was she always sacrificing him? His whole life, she chose men over her children, over him. What did she get out of it - really? There had to be something, some reason. It had to make sense - to her if not to him.
But what about the other times when he felt valued and special? Every day after school, she'd have a snack ready for him when he was starving. And she'd hugged and kissed him as she tucked him into bed every night. She always read him one more story than she promised she would, just because he'd beg her to. Lucky remembered the glow of pleasure that he'd feel when she called him her little man.
Lucky rolled over on his side and pulled a pillow tightly to his chest and midriff. He hugged the pillow as he sniffed and sniveled. I don't understand, he thought sadly. She used to love me, why doesn't she want me anymore? Did I do something wrong?
.