October

by J. Grace Pennington

  I squeezed back, then laid down beside her, resting my head next to hers on the teary pillow. I reached up and stroked back the flyaways on the top of her hair, and kept crying noiselessly.

  We laid that way for a long time. Her crying finally subdued, leaving her splotchy-faced and weary. The sunlight began to fade, and before I knew it, her eyes were invisible in the shadows.

  At last I made myself realize that it was time to go home, and with one last stroke of her hair, I whispered, “I love you, Tobi.”

  She said nothing.

  Quietly I got up, slipped out of the room, closed the door behind me, and left.

  When I got home I didn’t even bother going all the way to my room to hide. I dropped onto the living room couch and buried my face in the back of it, and sobbed.

  “Emily?”

  Daddy’s voice. I didn’t care. I couldn’t hide it all anymore, and I kept on sobbing as if my heart would break. It was breaking—had broken. Dear, sweet Tobi. How could it be this way? How?

  I felt the cushions shift as Daddy sat next to me. He laid his strong hand on my back and let it rest there for a moment. Then he asked, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  I poured it all out, sobbingly, incoherently, out of order. But I told him everything. How Tobi had shown me, how she’d told me everything, how I couldn’t believe it, how I felt like I was living in a nightmare and about to be sick. He listened silently, his hand on my back, until I was finished with the last bit of the story.

  He rubbed my back and kept quiet.

  I sobbed on. “And Mom is going to say, ‘I told you so.’ She said I should be careful about October. But I’m still not sorry! Tobi is a wonderful person. I’m glad I know her.”

  He rubbed again, but still said nothing, I peeked up sideways and tried to see his face through my tears and the hair that fell in front of my face.

  He took his hand off my back and brushed the hair out of my eyes, then smiled at me, so kindly, so gently.

  “Oh, Daddy!” I cried, and flew into his arms, nestling my head against his chest. He held me close, and I listened to his heart beating just beneath my ear. So strong. So steady. My dear, dear Daddy. Why hadn’t I talked to him before now?

  “I’m sorry, Em,” he finally said, rubbing his hands over my back. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

  My sobs gradually quieted. “Do you have to tell Mom?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “But why, Daddy?”

  “Because she’s your mother.”

  I thought back to the pastor’s words. “Pastor Ulrich said I had to tell you both.”

  Daddy stiffened just a tiny bit. “He what?”

  “I mean, just about... the... the cutting. I went to ask him to help Tobi, and he insisted that I had to tell you both about everything.”

  He pulled me closer and tightened his grip.

  “Are you mad at me?” I whispered.

  “Oh Emily.” His voice was pained. “I just wish... you would have told us first.”

  “Why?” I sniffed, still resting my head against his shoulder.

  “Because I love you. I want to know if something is hurting my daughter.”

  This brought back a fresh batch of tears, these born of shame. I gripped the back of his shirt with both hands, soaking up his strength and love and the security his arms around me brought.

  “We know you’re an adult now, Em,” he said once my crying had calmed a little. “It’s not that we want to treat you like a child, but we want you to feel like you can talk to us. That’s what we’re here for.”

  “But... but Mom never seemed to like October.”

  He let go of me and gripped my shoulders, pushed me away a little, and looked me in the eyes. “Your mother cares about you very much. She just wants to protect you. It’s what mothers do.” He sighed and pursed his lips, then looked out the window for a moment before looking back at me. “You... you remember that Sunday School teacher from when you were little? The one you liked so much?”

  “Miss Doyle?” I wiped my tears with the sleeve of my t-shirt. “Of course.”

  He sighed again, and it seemed to cause him to deflate a little. “I should have told you this before.”

  I stared at him, curious, but not feeling ready for whatever fresh punch to the gut he might be about to throw me.

  “Em, she didn’t just move away. She was caught stealing money from the church.”

  The bottom of my heart seemed to drop out, letting everything inside trickle downwards. “What?”

  “She had been stealing for several weeks before she was caught. The elders decided not to press charges, and they asked her to leave the church after she returned what money she could. I think... I think it really bothered your mother. She worried that something bad could have happened to you.”

  My beloved Miss Doyle, a thief. Was nothing as it seemed in the world of grown-ups?

  “But...” A couple more tears slipped down my cheeks. “That doesn’t mean... we shouldn’t take chances, right? That we shouldn’t trust anyone?”

  “No, you’re right. It doesn’t. But your mother isn’t perfect, you know. She’s just another person, like you, trying to do the best she can. If she worries about you, it’s because she loves you—and sometimes she knows things that you don’t.”

  I leaned forward against him again, conscious of a muddled mass where once my heart had been.

  “What are you going to do?” I whispered.

  “I’ll talk to Pastor Ulrich, and then I think we should talk to the Rivers. October is clearly in a bad place right now, and they are responsible for her. They need to know.”

  “But Daddy,” I cried, “isn’t it bad to gossip?”

  He kissed my forehead. “It would be gossip if we were going around telling people who didn’t need to know out of malice. It isn’t if we speak discerningly to people who need information about what’s happening.”

  “How do you tell the difference?” I asked, feeling as though my moral compass were slipping further away by the moment.

  “Oh, my poor girl.” He kissed my forehead again. “It’s not easy. And I’m not perfect, either. But pray for me. Pray for the Rivers, and for October.”

  And I did.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “How could you?”

  It was the first time Tobi had ever actually called me on the phone. She always waited for me to call her, or else she texted, or just discarded telecommunications altogether and came over to see me in person.

  I sat on the edge of my bed and tried to brace my poor heart for the conversation I had been anticipating. “October, I’m sorry if you’re upset...”

  “If I’m upset? Why would I be upset? When I say something in confidence and then find out that half the people I know are talking about it!”

  It occurred to me that she didn’t know a lot of people, and so half wasn’t really all that many, but I didn’t say it. I swallowed, straightened my thoughts, and tried to communicate clearly.

  “You weren’t upset when I told Pastor Ulrich.”

  “I understood you needed to talk to someone. But why tell my aunt and uncle?”

  I wanted to protest that I, personally, hadn’t, but that wouldn’t be fair. It was still my responsibility. Every tone of her voice made me cringe, and set off a chain reaction inside that reached my core, where it sat in a whole mire of shattered illusions. “I had to tell my dad. I’m really sorry. I just had to. He made the call to talk to the Rivers... he said... they needed to know so they could take care of you.”

  “I thought I told you I came here to get away from it all. I don’t need my aunt and uncle knowing all about it.”

  “Then why did you tell me?” I cried, though I knew that this too was unfair.

  She drove the point home. “Because you wouldn’t leave me alone! I hadn’t planned to, but you kept asking.”

  “You said you felt like a liar.”

  “Well I’d rather feel like a liar than feel
like I’m constantly under a microscope. They want to watch me all the time now.”

  “I said I’m sorry. But honestly, I’d rather lose your friendship than have the world lose you. I’m sorry, but I mean it.”

  “I wasn’t going to kill myself.”

  “You didn’t think you were going to cut again, either.”

  “Great to know that you’re an expert in emotional illness now.”

  I was still finding it impossible to reconcile this bitter, sarcastic woman with my sweet, laughing Tobi. The words hurt, more than I’d thought they would. I’d thought I was too numbed by the whole thing to add to the pain, at least for the moment. Clearly I’d been wrong.

  “I’m really sorry you feel that way, Tobi.”

  “So am I.” And she hung up.

  I looked at the phone for a moment. Just stared at the blank, mocking screen. Then I hurled it across the room, as hard as I could.

  I heard something shatter, and I didn’t care.

  *****

  It didn’t take long for word to get around to Jax. Probably my mom had told his mom, since Jax was friends with Tobi, too. It was probably fair, but I still hated it. Jax caught up with me during lunch at school, and sat right next to me.

  He looked down at his food and didn’t say anything.

  I had known Jax my whole life. I could tell what each of his different silences meant.

  “You heard, didn’t you?”

  He shrugged. I could also tell the difference between his shrugs.

  I picked at my macaroni and cheese.

  “You did the right thing,” he said.

  I looked at him. How did he know that was an answer to the very question I tortured myself with every moment the past few days? “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You were right to tell. She...” He swallowed. “She needs help.”

  I looked back at my food and occupied myself with sliding one macaroni onto a prong of my fork. “I should have helped her myself.”

  “You tried, didn’t you?”

  He had a point there.

  “Here.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a paper parcel. “My mom made this for you.”

  I took it from him and unwrapped it, catching the sweet scent just as I saw what it was. A chocolate chip cookie.

  Why a cookie should make me cry, I didn’t know. “Thanks, Jax. I mean, thank your mom. I don’t know why I’m crying... just... it’s nice.”

  “Eh. I’ve heard about this,” he said, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Hormones.”

  I reached over to smack him in the face, but he ducked away, grinning. The grin in and of itself was a better gift than the cookie.

  “Well well, if it isn’t the kissing cousins.” Melissa slid into a seat opposite me.

  I rolled my eyes as severely as I could. “Good gracious, Melissa. You’re so inappropriate sometimes.”

  “Oh, using big words, are we now.” Her eyes sparkled at me, but there was something behind them, something unusually sympathetic.

  “That’s nothing. Sometimes you can be positively pugnacious.”

  “Bookworm. You can be such a drag, Drag. I imagine that’s insulting, but I’m too stupid to understand how.”

  I managed a chuckle—not quite a laugh, but it was the bare bones of one. Melissa smiled more genuinely before turning to Jax and flirting shamelessly.

  Mom of course had her own talk with me. I had known it would come, and dreaded it, but it didn’t turn out to be as bad as I’d expected. It wasn’t an “I told you so” or anything in that vicinity. She was sympathetic. Understanding. She even apologized for her attitude towards October, which made me cry all over again.

  Pastor Ulrich visited one Thursday evening to check in on us. He wanted to make sure I was okay, and see if we had any concerns that he could help us with.

  The one person I did not see was October herself.

  Since that angry phonecall, I hadn’t heard a single thing from her. I wouldn’t know if she called me, since I had broken my phone and the new one wouldn’t come for two weeks. But she didn’t come over. I didn’t see her on walks. She didn’t even go to church that Sunday, though the Rivers took their accustomed pew and stood there as if everything were just as it always had been.

  I wanted to ask Pastor Ulrich after the service whether he’d seen her, and if so, how she was doing. I almost headed to the front of the sanctuary instead of the back, to follow through on this impulse, but changed my mind at the last minute. If October wanted me to know how she was doing, she would tell me herself.

  I missed her. I missed the walks and the lunches and the stars. And yet as the days went by, I found myself reluctant to see her. It took such a surprisingly short time for things to feel almost normal again. School. Family. Church. Joking with Jax and Melissa. Reading my dragon books. Dressing in jeans and a teal t-shirt. It almost felt like she had never been there.

  Almost.

  There was always a little weight on my heart. I always braided my hair or put it up or tied it back rather than letting it fly haphazard around my face. Occasionally, I looked up in the clouds and saw a picture.

  And sometimes, I found magic in a spur of the moment decision.

  Then one evening, I was sitting on the porch steps reading, and I heard footsteps on the path. “Jax, is that you?” I called, still engrossed in my book. He’d said he might walk over after dinner.

  “Not quite.”

  I jerked my head up and saw her standing there, brilliant hair piled on top of her head, purple sleeveless dress adorned by a simple silver necklace, and green eyes shining in the sunset.

  I scurried to my feet, heart pounding, and faced her. I couldn’t help a glance at her arms, where I saw only the remnants of the scars.

  “I only did it that once,” she said, noting my glance.

  I looked back at her face, reddening.

  “It’s okay.” Her voice was its usual sweet, genuine self. “You have a right to wonder anything you like.”

  I hesitated only a moment before rushing to her and squeezing her as tightly as I could.

  She laughed gently and stroked my hair.

  “I’m sorry, Em,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. It wasn’t right at all. Will you forgive me?”

  “Of course,” I said, and smiled.

  A low whistle sounded from the other end of the driveway, and I looked up and saw Jax standing there, ski cap on his head, hands in his pockets. October let go of me and turned towards him. Then she looked from him to me and back again.

  “Fancy a walk?” she asked.

  Of course we did.

  We trod through the woods, trees once again nearly bare. “Aren’t you cold?” I asked October after awhile.

  “A little,” she admitted. “But... I’m not going to wear long sleeves. Not anymore. If I’m going to have a problem... everyone’s going to know.”

  Jax pulled off his leather jacket and draped it around her shoulders awkwardly. She laughed, filling the chilly air with enchantment. “Thanks, sir knight.”

  He reddened all the way to the brim of his cap.

  We wandered through the woods, crunching dead leaves, talking about nothing in particular. The weather, our favorite kinds of ice cream, books. Jax mentioned something about our long-lapsed book club and how we should start it up again.

  October got quiet then. “I... don’t think I’ll be able to,” she said.

  I braced myself for what was coming.

  She didn’t make us wait this time. She stopped, turned to both of us, and tucked her hands into the pockets of Jax’s jacket. “I came to tell you two... I’m going back to Chicago.”

  The words shattered the evening like an atomic bomb.

  Jax was the first to speak. “When?”

  “On Friday. I’m... so sorry. I just... my dad wants me to come back. Since it’s not helping me as much as we’d hoped. He wants me to see another counselor he’s heard really good thi
ngs about.”

  My nose burned, like tears wanted to make their way to my eyes but couldn’t quite make it.

  “But... it’s not just that. I... I want to go back. I do. I’ve had the most wonderful time of my life here—I honestly have. But I don’t want to run away anymore. I want to face what I left. I want to—find a way to be me, to be the best me, back home. To—fight my dragons.” She smiled, though even in the sunset I could see tears glinting in her eyes.

  I resisted the urge to correct her, to give my usual speech about how not all dragons were bad, and they didn’t all need to be fought. And maybe she wasn’t wrong after all—dragons, like people, came in all shapes and sizes. Some didn’t need to be fought, but some—some did. Some were fire-breathing and vicious, like those who had their claws of fear and doubt piercing her heart now.

  She had tried to slay them and failed. But maybe—maybe now, she could face them, look them in the eye, and instead of killing them, she could tame them. Bend them to her will until they lay at her feet, filling a more useful role in her life.

  Maybe, eventually, they would make her fly.

  “I’m sorry,” she went on. “It was a hard decision. But I mean... my aunt and uncle still live here. I’ll come back and visit.”

  I saw Jax swallow. “We’ll... miss you, October.”

  She replied softly, with an open honesty that warmed the autumn chill. “I know you will. I mean it.” She looked at me. “Emily...?”

  I ran to her and clung, heart aching all over again, having not a word to say.

  *****

  She had arrived on a plane, but she had decided to drive home. It was a small thing, a mundane thing, like refraining from wearing long sleeves, but it was a victory.

  Small victories. They were something to be thankful for. They gave her hope, and us hope for her.

  Early Friday morning, Jax picked me up in his dad’s truck. I was already on the porch steps, waiting, even though the sun hadn’t even begun to rise. We had agreed to be up as early as we could to see October off before school.