Arcadia's Gift Part 8

"So..." I said, feeling rather awkward and knowing he did, too, "maybe after we eat, we could get to work on fixing this place up."

Dad nodded. "I was thinking, you know, if you want, we could fix up one of the bedrooms for you. It would probably have to be the small one, because Aaron may be moving in and if he does, he'll want the bigger room. You know, living here full time."

I nodded. "Aaron told me he wanted to move with you. Has he talked to Mom about it yet?"

Dad shook his head, "Don't think so." After a pause he added, "How is Mom anyway? She looked pretty rough today." This trial separation was something they both wanted, but the tone of his voice made it clear he was still genuinely concerned about her.

I debated about what to say. If I told him the truth, that Mom was turning into a junkie hermit, would that be disloyal to her? But what if protecting her was actually a bad thing? I decided to just be honest.

"She almost never leaves her room, Dad. She drinks alcohol and takes pills and sleeps like fifteen hours a day." I didn't mention my suspicion about her using multiple doctors. I didn't want to accuse her without concrete proof. I'd wait until I had a chance to take a look at those pill bottles. The prescribing doctor's name should be on them.

Dad drew in a sharp breath, but he didn't really look all that surprised. "Yeah, Aaron mentioned she was taking things pretty hard. Maybe -"

His thought was cut off by the tinny ringing of the doorbell. The food arrived. Dad took care of paying the delivery boy and brought the bag with him into the living room. I grabbed us two cans of soda from the fridge while he divided out the white take-out boxes between us.

I opened mine and let the steam escape from my egg rolls. Dad ripped into a package of chop sticks and began attacking his shrimp with lobster sauce. I picked up one of the crispy rolls and took a bite.

"Aw, man," I cried as I dropped my egg roll back into the box and scrambled for the can of soda. My tongue juggled the chunk of egg roll around my mouth, trying to keep it from burning my tongue into a melted lump of flesh. The cold Pepsi washed through my mouth like heaven.

"Careful there," Dad warned too late.

I set the food carton down on the end table. "I'll just give that a minute."

Something was off in the room, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. The temperature seemed normal, but cool breezes kept brus.h.i.+ng my skin. The ceiling fan above me was off and none of the windows were open. Something else about the room was making me uneasy, worried. I pulled my sleeves down over my hands and crossed my arms in front of my middle.

"So," Dad said, concern clouding his expression, "about your mother...I know you're worried about her. I am too. Just because things aren't working out so well with us right now, doesn't mean that I don't love her. What I'm trying to say here is that if you want me to -I don't know -take some action, I will."

My eyes narrowed, not sure whether I liked the sound of that. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well," he said, setting his dinner down. "To be honest, my instincts are to give her some time and let her ride this out. Losing Lony...well, it's been h.e.l.l for all of us. I'm doing the best I can here, and I'm sure your mother is to, but if you think you might be in any...I don't know...danger or something..."

"She's not dangerous to anyone but herself, Dad."

He nodded. He let out a relieved sigh, and with it, a breeze, slightly warmer than the room, touched my face.

"But I am worried about her," I continued. "She's mixing booze with those pills. That can't be good. She stays in her pajamas all day and ignores the calls on her cell phone."

Dad's relief was short lived. He reached his hand up to rub the back of his neck. The coolness to the breeze was back.

"Do you feel that? That breeze? Where is it coming from?"

Dad held his hand up to check the air. "I don't feel any breeze." He shook his head and continued, "Well, I don't think I can help your mother right now. She won't even talk to me. Nora can't do much to help in Scottsdale. Think I should go have a talk with her therapist?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. What about Aunt Tina? I know she's your sister, but she and Mom have always been close."

Dad nodded, contemplating that option. "We could try it. I'll give Tina a call tomorrow. Just to be safe, I'll call her doctor, too. He needs to know that she's mixing her meds with alcohol."

Part of me felt badly for telling on my mother. When I was a kid, I once got in trouble for telling a neighbor girl that Mom made Dad sleep on the couch after they had a particularly bad argument. Mom sat me down and lectured me on what happens in our house is no one else's business, and I was not to tell tales about my parents to the neighbors. I had to wonder if this rule now applied to my father now that he no longer lived with us. I picked up my egg roll, now sufficiently cooled off, and began nibbling away.

Chapter 14.

By Sunday morning, I'd gotten almost all of my homework caught up. Late in the afternoon, Bryan called to see if I wanted to do something. He picked me up in his car and we drove down to the river. Following alongside the Mississippi is a flood wall with a path on top where people can ride their bikes or walk. The tree leaves on the Wisconsin side of the river were just beginning to turn color. Bryan bought us ice cream cones at a stand, b.u.t.ter pecan for him and cookie dough for me. We ate them while we strolled along the path.

"You're not scared to go back to school tomorrow, are you?"

I shook my head. "No, not really. It can't be any more of a disaster than Tuesday."

"School was hard on me after Jesse died, but I got through it, and so will you."

Ever since he told me about his brother and that he had the same disease, I'd been waiting for an opportunity to ask him some questions. "Bryan, can I ask you something? It's kind of personal, so if you don't want to talk about it, that's cool."

"Go ahead. Ask." He picked a stone up off of the cement and tossed it out into the river where it sunk with a splash.

"Well, I've been thinking about what you told me...that you have that blood disease, too. Are you like...worried or anything? Like what if it was you?"

"Yeah, I guess so," he answered, then paused to lick the dripping ice cream off the side of his cone. "I mean, I've thought about it my whole life. My mother was insanely over-protective of both of us, especially when we were little. She actually homeschooled us until seventh grade because she was afraid we'd get hurt at recess or play too roughly with the other kids. Sometimes, it was hard to forget we were different."

"Wow. So she finally let you go to regular school?"

"Jesse used to beg our parents to let him go to school with the other kids. When he was fourteen and I was twelve, they finally caved, but we weren't allowed to take gym cla.s.s or do sports."

"Wish I could get out of gym cla.s.s," I muttered.

He grinned. "I may not have had to go to gym, but gym teachers have always found other ways to torture me, like writing essays on basketball theory or the history of physical education. Did you know the Victorians used to think allowing women to play sports was inhumane due to their delicate const.i.tutions?"

"I think it's inhumane to make us all change clothes in the same room."

Bryan chuckled. "So, to answer your question about whether I worry about death, the answer is yes...and no. I've lived with the possibility of death for as long as I can remember. I guess I'm sort of used to it. I try to remember that with treatment and a lot of caution, I could live a fairly normal life. But I'd be lying if I said there weren't times -especially after Jesse died -where I didn't feel the weight of it, you know?"

Not knowing what else to say, the best I could come up with was, "Um...I'm sorry. I mean, sorry that you have to live with this. So, like the disease...it is treatable, right?"

"Yeah. I take medication every day which has clotting factors in it. If a bleed happens, that'll help, or at least buy time for me to get to the hospital."

We sat down on a bench and watched a group of ducks bobbing along the sh.o.r.eline. "Do you have bleeds very often?"

He shrugged. "Well, as much as my mother would like to completely encase me in Nerf, it's impossible not to. Jesse and I were more careful with each other than most brothers, but we'd still fight. When I was six, he threw a Hot Wheels car at me and cut my forehead open. I was in the hospital for a week. I also had some joint bleeding when I hit my big growth spurt freshman year. Most people don't realize that your joints are p.r.o.ne to bleeds. I guess growing seven inches in a year put stress on my knees, because they would ache and bruise up. Eventually, the pain went away, but the doctor says I might develop arthritis in them someday."

"How old were you when you got this?"

"I was born with it, but didn't start developing the symptoms for a few years. My mom was pregnant with me when Jesse was diagnosed. They knew I'd probably have it, too, so they banked my cord blood and had me tested right away."

"How scary for your parents! It must suck to have this happen to both of your kids."

"Yeah, I think my mom wanted more children, but they decided to stop after me. If she'd have had a girl, the baby would've been fine, but there's no way to guarantee."

I didn't say anything, just wound a lock of my hair around and around my index finger. I loved the idea of having a ton of kids someday, and thinking about what Bryan's mom must have gone through made me sad. We nibbled our cones in silence.

"Well, I guess we better go," Bryan said. "I have a chemistry a.s.signment to finish tonight."

"Yeah, sure." I popped the last bite into my mouth and wiped my fingers on a paper napkin before stuffing it into my pocket.

On the way home, I snuck a couple of glances at Bryan as he drove. We'd gotten pretty close in the time since Lony's death. And those black gla.s.ses that he drove with did things to his dark eyes that made my insides squirm. It was probably wrong for me to choose this time to develop my first real crush. (I'm not counting the unrequited love I have for Orlando Bloom.) Was there an appropriate amount of time a person had to mourn before they were allowed to move forward with their life? My guilt felt like a lead helmet on my head...two sizes too small.

How would Lony have dealt with it if our situations were reversed? If I was the one who died, leaving her behind? She already had Cane, so it's not like she would've stopped dating him just because of me. She also had a talent for selective thinking, not spending too much time on topics which depress her. Lony would have gone back to school last week when Aaron did. She probably would've roped her friends into putting together a memorial for me at the school, rather than ripping one down.

So, maybe I shouldn't feel too badly about my feelings for Bryan. I couldn't help the timing...heck, if it hadn't been for Lony's death, he probably would have never reached out to me.

Chapter 15.

"You can do this," I whispered to myself. "It's no big deal."

I walked purposefully up the front steps of the high school, holding my worn -and newly mended -backpack like a s.h.i.+eld. Ice water pumped through my veins, my body's reaction to the dozens of eyes following me down the hall. I wasn't being paranoid. The quick glances away when I looked up were proof enough.

The funny thing was I wasn't nervous at all about going to school that morning. I was actually looking forward to getting back to a routine. But once I entered the crowd of students, my stomach tensed up into one big knot and my skin grew damp with cold sweat. In fact, it was the most curious case of nerves I've ever felt; a mixed up cornucopia of emotions...excitement, joy, anger, fear. The walls of the hallway seemed barely strong enough to contain it all.

As I rounded the corner, there was Bryan, leaning up against the wall by my first hour government cla.s.s, his attention on the battered Dean Koontz novel in his hands. I slowed my gait, pleased to watch him without notice. My pulse quickened and almost made me forget about the rest of the crowd. The intense gaze of his dark brown eyes seemed as if it might set the book on fire. Absently, he teethed his lower lip, drawing my attention to its full redness. His thick hair stood up funny in the back and he'd neglected to fasten the bottom b.u.t.ton on his s.h.i.+rt, but to me, he looked perfect.

Jeez, Cady. Stop being so sappy.

"Hey," I said as I walked up beside him, trying my best to portray nonchalance.

Bryan startled at my voice, but then broke out into a big toothy grin. "Hey."

A boy trying to get into his locker nudged me over so my arm brushed up against Bryan's. Bryan could have stepped over, putting s.p.a.ce between us, but he didn't. I'm not sure what it was about being near him, but those crazy mixed-up emotions faded, giving way to a relaxing calm.

"Are you all set to give it another go?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm ready. I think."

"Good."

There was a slight rosiness to his cheeks which brightened up his pale complexion. Not a blemish on him. I pretended to bite my thumb nail in order to hide the zit which had poked out on my chin during the night.

"Well, I better get inside," I said, even though it was the last thing I wanted to do.

Bryan touched his hand to my shoulder for one brief moment and replied, "Yeah, I have to go, too. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. My phone's on vibrate, so if you need anything, text me." His hand patted the pocket where his cell phone snuggled against his heart.

As he strode away, I felt that strange tangle of emotions flood back. I clenched my jaw and entered the cla.s.sroom just as the final bell rang.

I gave a hesitant smile to a few of those offering sympathetic looks as I walked to my seat. A feeling of deja vu came over me. Like the week before, my nerves felt like violin strings wound too tightly. I missed my name during roll call and the girl behind me had to poke me in the shoulder. My body temperature rose and I bit down on the end of my pen until my teeth left jagged marks.

Mr. Steele popped in a video on voting during the civil rights era and shut out the lights. I used the cover of darkness to get a hold of myself. Examining my emotions more closely, I realized that it wasn't all nervousness I felt, but a whole tornado of feelings at once -some of which didn't even make sense. There was frustration with my parents, anxiety over some big test which I wasn't prepared for, the triumph of first love. None of these emotions felt like they belonged to me, yet there they were, taking up residence in my mind.

I squeezed my eyes shut. The air in the cla.s.sroom was thick with invisible smoke which clawed at my throat. I wanted to jump out of my seat and leave, but I couldn't risk another outburst like the previous week. Instead, I took some deep yoga breaths and tried to get a handle on myself.

When the video ended, Mr. Steele began asking questions to stimulate a discussion. I watched the final ten minutes tick off the clock and prayed he wouldn't call on me. He didn't. When the bell rang, I was out the door and halfway down the hall before most kids had a chance to gather up their books.

My next few cla.s.ses were repeats of government. During third period gym, Coach Davis pulled me aside to talk about cross country. I hadn't run in weeks, and honestly, I hadn't given any thought to the meets I'd missed. Coach suggested that I withdraw for the rest of the season. I just nodded and wandered back to our dodgeball game. I knew I should be more upset about it. I loved running. But I couldn't muster up the energy to care about things like after school sports.

By the time I entered the cafeteria and sought out my usual table with Bronwyn and Shawn, my belly was all knotted up and I was wiped out.

My friends looked at me strangely when I sat down.

"Not eating today?" Shawn asked.

I shook my head no. "Not hungry."

Bronwyn's eyes crinkled with concern. "How are you holding up?"

I gave a one-shoulder shrug. How could I explain the weird feelings I was having when I didn't understand them myself? "Okay, I guess."

Shawn popped open a can of Pepsi and sucked the foam off the top with a slurp.

"Are you feeling okay?" Bronwyn prodded with concern. "You look kind of pale."

I waved my hand in the air like she was making a big deal out of nothing and plastered a fake grin on my lips which I hoped was pa.s.sable. "I'm fine. Just feeling a bit out of the loop. Why don't you fill me in on what's been going on around here?"

Shawn took the hint before Bronwyn did and began to tell me about how he'd been cast as Sky Masterson in the fall musical, Guys and Dolls. I wasn't surprised he'd gotten the lead. Shawn had a baritone singing voice that could cause the hair to rise on your arms, and he was a natural comedian on stage. I focused on his crazy story about something that had happened in rehearsal, and that quieted the flurry of emotions in my gut somewhat.

A throat cleared behind me and a light touch fell on my shoulder. I spun around to see Bryan holding his lunch tray. "Mind if I join you?" The uneasiness on his face looked as if he were expecting me to say no.

"Of course not." I scooted over to make room for him on the bench beside me, but it was a tight fit between us and a group of soph.o.m.ores sharing the long table.

Shawn jutted his hand out and introduced himself and Bronwyn. She flashed me a knowing look and a grin which caused heat to wash over my face.

"I've heard so much about you," Bronwyn said. "Cady was telling me what a big help you have been for her these last couple of weeks."

Bryan's eyes lit up at the compliment, and I didn't know whether or not to be embarra.s.sed to have been caught talking about him. The denim of his black jeans rested lightly against my thigh, and it was all I could do not to press closer against him. The strange emotions rolling through me began to be replaced with a calm happiness.

"Bryan just moved here from Oregon," I said, trying to make conversation. This led to a discussion on how lame Dubuque must be after living in a big city like Portland. To our surprise, Bryan claimed to like it here.

"Don't get me wrong," he explained. "Portland is great and there is always lots to do, but I'm starting to get used to being in a city where I can get from one end to the other in less than a half hour and without ending up in a traffic jam. Before moving here, I thought it was going to be all cows and country music."