Winter Flower
Page 19
What about Sam? Wasn’t it time she started taking care of herself? I’d kept her secret ever since the day I walked into my bedroom after coming home early from a field trip and found Sam in my room wearing one of my dresses. I could never forget that day. Sam had fallen to her knees, blubbering, begging me not to tell our parents. I was so shocked that all I could think of was to protect her.
I still felt a responsibility to protect her. I always would. But when did I get to have my own life? I was practically a grown-up, and I couldn’t exactly stay and watch over Sam forever.
I made a promise to myself then that I would talk with Chase about it that night. About our future. Surely he’d be willing to come pick me up on my birthday.
I parked the car in the DMV parking lot.
Dad smiled at me. “You ready for this, sweetie?”
“Hell, yeah!”
He opened the passenger door and started to get out. Then he ducked his head back in. “Watch your language, sixteen or not.”
A little over two hours later, I walked out of the DMV with my own driver’s license. I wanted to hug everybody in sight. I wanted to jump up and down and scream. I was so excited. “I know you guys have plans for me tonight, but can I borrow the car tomorrow? Can I?”
Dad hesitated, and I threw my arms around him.
“Pleeeeease.” I drew out the word like it had a hundred e’s in it.
He smirked. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”
“Dad!”
He just chuckled in response.
Less than an hour later I understood why. I literally screamed when I saw the car.
I circled around it when I first saw it, almost afraid it was a mirage. It was a brand-new VW beetle, white with pink and purple polka dots. They must have had it custom painted. I was crying when I got in. The interior had black leather seats, carpets and steering wheel, but the dash was a shiny bright red. To the right of the steering wheel, a tiny plastic flower vase was built into the dashboard. A purple aster with a bright yellow disk cheered the interior.
“Oh my God.” I think I said it fifty times.
I asked Mom and Dad if I could take it for a ride. They just smiled, and I hugged them and maybe cried just a little bit more. My friend Marion, who I didn’t get to see often enough anymore, got in the car, Sam got in the back seat, and I started the car.
It was really quiet. Brand new. I couldn’t believe this. Dad rolled up the garage doors, and I put the car in reverse and backed out.
“This is so great,” I said. I turned on the music and we drove.
Brenna
At a quarter after eleven, Sam knocked on my door. I was lying in bed with the lights out, watching Netflix on my phone. I was still dressed, because it wasn’t long before I was planning to sneak out of the house to go see Chase.
“Yeah…”
Sam opened the door. “Can I come in?”
I paused the show and said, “Sure.”
Sam sat down on the end of the bed. “I just wanted to say happy birthday. And to thank you for yesterday.”
“Yesterday?”
“With Jake.”
Right. That little prick. When I exited the gym yesterday afternoon, I was already in a bad mood because Chase had let me know we wouldn’t be able to go out on Saturday evening. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t ask for the night off from work, considering it was my birthday. When I came out, I saw Sam pushed up against the wall.
Jake was about twice Sam’s size, and he had harassed and bullied her all the way through middle school. When I saw him, it raised every fear I had for Sam. And the truth was, I was afraid of a lot of things for Sam. I was afraid that Mom and Dad would find out and that Dad would reject her. I was afraid of someone hurting her. I was afraid that the agony of feeling like she was in the wrong body would eventually get to be too much. That she might hurt herself. Or that some bigot would beat her up, or worse.
“I’ll always watch out for you when I can,” I said. I had to be careful how I said this. “But you need to remember that I won’t always be here. You need to start learning to take care of yourself.”
Sam whispered, “I know.”
She stared at me for a minute then spoke again. “What’s it like? You know … having a boyfriend? Do you love him?”
Sam’s question had an ache of loneliness behind it. “I do. I do love him. But you know, it’s not all roses. We fight a lot, and I don’t get to see him very much. Sometimes he treats me like I’m a kid.”
Sam shifted position, lying on her stomach next to me. “But he makes you happy?”
“Yeah. He really does.”
Sam was quiet for a really long time. I could tell something was eating at her. So I sat there and didn’t say anything, just waited. After several minutes, she took a breath, started to speak and then stopped. Her eyes shifted to mine. “Do you think … I mean … will … will I ever have that?”
Oh, Sam. “I’m sure you will. You’re beautiful. Inside and out.”
“Mom wants to take me to the doctor. She’s worried about me not having gone into puberty yet. I heard her talking about it with Dad. What happens if they find out I’ve been taking hormones? What happens if they make me stop taking them? I’ll end up looking like a boy in a dress, and no one will want me.”
Jesus, I never thought of that. Would hormones be detectable in some kind of a blood test? I had no idea. “It’s going to be okay, Sam. It’s going to be okay.”
Sam shook her head. Tears were starting to run down her face. “I don’t think it is. I don’t think it is at all. Even if I can find some way to somehow pay for my transition, how will I ever tell someone I’m dating? Oh, by the way, I used to be a boy. Can you imagine the reactions?”
Tears were freely running down Sam’s face then. I reached out and pulled her to me, whispering, “It’s going to be okay.”
Her words were so full of pain and fear and loneliness it was overwhelming. She whispered, “I’m so scared, Brenna. I’m so scared.”
Brenna
Sam went back to her room about half an hour later, sheepishly apologizing for falling to pieces. I told her several times it was fine. A few minutes after that, I peeked in her room. She was already out cold, wiped out by her tears.
My heart ached for Sam. Because even though I kept saying Everything will be okay, I didn’t know if that was true or not. If she couldn’t even tell our own father who she was, how could she tell someone else? Her fear was real and well-grounded. What if she did date some guy for a while, then had to reveal she’d been born male?
A lot of guys were assholes. A lot of guys would beat her up for that kind of surprise. It happened, in shockingly high numbers.
At the same time, sometimes it was so frustrating that everything had to be about her. It was my birthday. I just got my driver’s license and a car, and yet here was Sam in my room, crying.
Whenever I felt like that, it made me feel like such a bitch.
Once I was sure she was asleep, I padded further down the hall then downstairs.
Silence. No light under my parents’ bedroom door. I stood in the darkness for a long time, waiting. Were there any movements, any sound? None. I tiptoed to the front door, far enough away from Mom and Dad’s room I wasn’t worried about waking them as long as I was careful. I opened it and slipped outside.
The air outside was heavy with humidity and the scent of flowers. A cool breeze tugged at my hair. I checked my phone. A little after midnight.
Our house wasn’t exactly on a hill, but it was at the top of a gentle slope, almost a hundred yards to the street. I had parked my car facing out, knowing that I was going to try to get out tonight. I walked to the car and unlocked it, put the keys into the ignition and turned them halfway, then put the car into neutral and released the parking brake. Then I got out and pushed on the driver’s side doorframe.
Oh. I had assumed it wouldn’t be too hard to move. But it was very hard. I pushed, bending o
ver and planting my feet wide apart. I strained, squeezing my eyes closed and pushing with all my strength.
The car moved slowly. Half an inch. An inch. It started to pick up speed as it began rolling down the slope, and I was walking, then running to keep up. Oh my God, it’s getting away from me. I almost panicked and lost the car entirely, but I grabbed the steering wheel and dragged myself in, then slammed both feet on the brake just as I reached the street. The car came to an ungainly stop.
Oh God. My heart was thumping. I sat there, catching by breath, suddenly wanting to laugh. What if it had kept going? All the way down the street and into Old Georgetown Road with its heavy traffic?
I could have killed somebody.
I couldn’t even think about it. I looked back up at the house. All dark, except for the exterior lights near the front door and garage. I was far enough away. I turned the keys in the ignition and began to drive, so excited I could barely breathe.
Traffic on Route 7 was heavy, even after midnight. I drove carefully, both hands on the wheel, music turned off. Around me were cars moving in the darkness, six lanes of traffic moving through Bailey’s Crossroads, flanked by a constant flow of mini-malls, diners, office buildings and hotels, gas stations and apartment buildings.
The silence enveloped me inside the car, not broken but dulled by the low rumbling of other cars on the road. It was strange being out this late by myself. I’d been out with friends before, of course, though rarely this late at night. But never on my own. Having my driver’s license gave me freedom I’d never had before. I didn’t want to squander it.
It took half an hour to get to Chase’s from our place. The drive felt magical, even when a truck got so close to me that I had to swerve out of my lane to avoid it.
I parked in the guest spot underneath the tree across from his apartment. When I got out of the car I looked up at the sky. No stars … there was too much light here. I felt a tiny thrill as I walked up the stairs of the apartment building and to his door. Chase lived on the second floor in a small one-bedroom apartment that he only rarely let me in. We have to be careful, he would say. I was sick of being careful all the time.
I reached up to knock, hesitated, then knocked on the door. I immediately heard movement on the other side—he was awake.
“Who’s there?” The peephole went dark.
I stood on my tiptoes and waved. “It’s me!”
After a clatter of sliding chains and locks, Chase yanked his front door open. “Brenna … what are you doing here? How did you get here?”
I felt my shoulders sink down a little at his almost angry tone. “What, no ‘happy birthday’?”
Chase winced. “Shit. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you.”
He didn’t move to wave me in or even to give me a kiss. I was starting to feel really hurt. I could feel my eyebrows pushing together and had to fight the beginning of a tremble in my chin. Forcing a smile, I said, “My parents bought me a car for my birthday! So … I thought I’d come over and see you.”
I waited through an uncomfortable delay. What the hell? Was he keeping a girl in there or something? “Chase, aren’t you going to invite me in?”
He licked his lips and looked away from me almost nervously. Then he muttered, “I didn’t want to do this on your birthday. Come on in.”
Chase’s apartment looked unfinished. Textbooks were stacked next to the couch, even though he wasn’t in college anymore. He had a twenty-gallon aquarium, but he hadn’t replaced the fish after they died. The coffee table was cluttered with a stained pizza box, napkins, two open cans of beer, remote controls, and envelopes that looked like bills.
“What didn’t you want to do on my birthday? Be kind? We were going to make love on my birthday. Are you going back on that?” My eyes shifted down to two cans of beer. I pointed at them. “Is someone else here?”
He shook his head. “Jesus, Brenna. Slow down.”
He scrambled to clear a spot on one of the chairs that sat at an angle from the couch. “You want something to drink? A soda? Both of those beers are mine, I drank them earlier.”
I shook my head. “I just want you to tell me what’s going on.”
“Well, sit down, and we’ll talk about it.” His tone was slow, quiet, an intentional effort to calm. Condescending.
His condescension made me want to punch him. But I knew Chase well enough to know that he wasn’t going to talk until I sat down. So I did, crossing my arms over my chest and one leg over the other.
“Baby, listen. I’ve been thinking … a lot. About us. About everything.”
Oh, God. He was doing it. Chase was breaking up with me. He was breaking up with me on my birthday. A tear ran down my face, and I savagely wiped at it. I sat with my back straight, not touching the seat, and kept my hands tucked under my arms to avoid hitting him.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Brenna. But I can’t do this anymore.”
The words that burst forth weren’t exactly a shriek, but they weren’t very calm either. “You can’t do what? I thought we loved each other.”
“Of course I love you. But that’s not the point.”
Of course he loves me. But that’s not the point? What the hell did that mean? “You aren’t making any sense.”
He didn’t respond to my statement. Instead he just continued. “I can’t do this … this hiding things from your parents. Always trying to push the boundaries. Trying to get me to sneak out with you at night. Did you even think about the fact that if you get caught picking up those drugs from the post office, then you might get a slap on the wrist or get grounded, but if I got caught, I would go to prison? Did you even fucking think about that before you involved me in a felony? You just show up in the middle of the night. Do you know what kind of trouble I could get in for having a fifteen-year-old girl in my apartment at one o’clock in the morning?”
“Sixteen, asshole!”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, his shoulders rising a little as he did it. Then, eyes open, he said, “That’s the point, Brenna. I love you. But you act like a child, and nothing I say will persuade you to behave otherwise. I’m not willing to risk ruining my life. Or yours, for that matter. Your mother is right. You should be dating someone your own age.”
Tears were running uncontrollably down my face now. I felt so humiliated, I wanted to sink down into the floor and die.
“You don’t have to do this.” I hated how my voice sounded, hoarse and desperate. I hated that I was beginning to sob. “I didn’t realize you were so upset about it. I just wanted to surprise you. I thought you’d be happy. I won’t try to push the rules anymore. I won’t.”
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, resting his face in his hands. In that position, he murmured, “This is not easy for me, you know.”
It’s not easy for him.
I hated him.
I stood up, shaking uncontrollably, and unable to control the tears that I didn’t want him to see. “I’m fucking out of here.”
He stood up too, grabbing at my wrist. “Wait…”
I yanked away from him. “Don’t touch me!” I pulled away and ran to the front door, throwing it open and running out into the hall blindly. I had to get away from him as quickly as I could. As I flew down the stairs, I heard him shout, “Brenna!”
I unlocked my car and got in, starting it before he made it out the front door of his building. I got one last good look at Chase as I pulled out into the parking lot and drove away.
I couldn’t go home like this, not yet. I drove as carefully as I could, while letting the tears flow freely. I finally stopped at a gas station and sat there for a long time crying in the car. I didn’t want to be seen. What if a cop drove up while I was like this? I needed to calm down.
Then I realized. Lori’s bracelet, the one she just gave me. It was gone.
Oh, crap. It must have fallen off at Chase’s, which meant I was going to have to call him. And endure further humiliation.
Rick: Hey, u awake?
Brenna: yeah.
Rick: Me and Nialla are hanging out with a couple peeps. Want to join?
I didn’t have to think about it. I needed to talk with someone. I was humiliated and rejected and angry, and I didn’t want to feel that way anymore. I didn’t want to go home.
I texted back: Yeah. I got a car for my birthday. I’ll come to you.
Fifteen
Cole
I left Jeremiah’s at seven thirty. From his place it was not quite a two-hour drive back to Oxford, which meant that Sam would likely still be up when I got home. That was good news … we needed to talk sooner rather than later. I wondered how he would take the news that Brenna was still alive, but still missing.
I had a gnawing regret that I hadn’t picked him up from school and brought him along to the airport. What was the right thing to do? The walk home wasn’t that bad, but I’d been reluctant to tell him what had happened over the phone. Would he be stuck on his computer as usual? Or fretting, worrying about what had happened and why we’d gone to the airport?
I had failed both of my children so profoundly that I didn’t even know where to begin. As I drove west, Jeremiah’s words roiled through my head. He was right. I hadn’t been there for Erin, not when it counted. Not for Erin, and not for the kids. I’ve been so focused on success at work, on affording the flashy cars and that god-awful huge house that I lost sight of everything that really mattered.
It made my stomach hurt to think about it. It was crazy. I grew up wanting nothing more than to be the opposite of my father. He’d been a remote figure who dragged us from one place to another, sometimes leading us into different states during the same school year. No stability, no warmth, just constant warfare between my parents. It wasn’t a hot war, the kind of parental battles that involved screaming and flying dishes. No, my parents were Russia and the United States during the Cold War; the tactics being my father’s distance and my mother’s constant sniping, the proxy wars being conducted through their children. The front lines rarely moved, our lives locked in a stalemate between my father’s territory—the garage, the outdoors, the basement—and my mother’s—the living and dining rooms. They met for battle in the dining room.