The need to know is
a worm
slithering through my brain.
I tried to bring it up last
night, when he was fighting
his own sleep demons,
working
up a tobacco-infused night
sweat. Both of us tossing
worry, I asked, “Did you make
this trip for me or for you?”
His
thrashing stilled, like he
thought about feigning
dreamland. But then a low
sort of growl exhaled from his
core.
HE SAT UP IN BED
A dark silhouette against
backlit blinds. And once
he started to talk, it all
came spilling out. I’ve
spent the last fifteen
years hating your mother.
That hate came from love
left to rot in my gut like roadkill
in summer. You know why
I ended up back in a cage?
Because I didn’t give
a half damn about anyone.
Rob ’em? Why not?
Rough ’em up? Hell, yeah.
Because it made me feel
in control. Never was,
though. What I couldn’t see
was that hate controlled me.
HE PAUSED THERE
And I thought he would stop
without telling me what I still
wanted to know. “You haven’t
answered my question.”
Because I’m not really sure.
I think it’s wrong that Dad
and Cora kept you from
knowing your roots. Just
wrong. I want to fix that if
I can. But I also want to see
Kristina again. Maybe I can
quit hating her then. At least
I’ll have a chance to tell her
what the last fifteen years
have done to me. I was dead
inside. And then I saw you.
A piece of me, so full of life.
I came a little alive too.
ALL THAT TALKING
Seemed to wear him right
out. He settled back down
in bed. Boulder dropped
into sleep. Guess clearing
his conscience tuckered
him out. I, on the other hand,
had no such reaction to
all that confession. Strange
voices bypassed my ears,
whispering straight into
my brain. Dead inside …
hating her … a little alive.
I remembered something.
It seemed a memory buried
deep in toddlerhood.
Mommy? Daddy? Glimpses
of slat-shadowed faces,
screwed up in rage. Screaming.
I hate you. Door slamming.
Pillow over my head against
the noise. Scrambling for breath.
MY HEART STUTTERED
With sudden clarity.
I’m not crazy.
The relentless feeling
of panic started there.
In my parents’
love-fueled hatred
for each other. And
me. I bet they
hated me because
I kept them together.
Drove them
apart. Reminded them
of what they should be,
and how incapable
they were of being it.
THE REST OF THE NIGHT
Was lost to the voice
of the wind calling
down over the Sierra.
Something familiar
about that keening,
too. Some part of me
longing to hear it again
after all these years.
I listened for hours,
until finally it calmed.
And in the lull, doubt
lifted, a ghost shrugging
off flesh. Nothing stays
the same. So how can
you trust anything?
How can you believe?
I got up, went into
the bathroom. Arranged
the toiletries by color.
Rearranged them by height.
But there weren’t enough
of them to make the job
important and in that
way, make me matter.
IN THE BOLD LIGHT
Of morning I wonder if I count
for anything at all. Christmas.
It’s early here, but Texas time
is two hours later. I find my cell,
buried in the oversize bag
holding my clothes. Later I’ll call
Bryce to wish him a merry Christmas
and maybe share some special
news. But he’s probably sleeping.
Instead I call a familiar San Antonio
number. No answer. Worry punches
at my gut. But then I remember.
Aunt Cora doesn’t live there
anymore. Grandfather? Probably
with her in Austin. I have to
scratch deep in my brain to
find the right combination
to make the phone ring there.
Liam answers, too cheerful.
Well, hello there, world traveler.
Merry Christmas to you.
Nevada is hardly the world.
But I don’t say so. “Can I
speak to Aunt Cora, please?”
Liam puts down the phone
to go get her, exposing
the handset to background
noise. Off-key singing. A chorus
of laughter. Voices I know,
and some unfamiliar, a strange
blend of old and new, all
around Aunt Cora and
Grandfather. Homesickness
swells. And not a small amount
of jealousy. They are there.
I am here. Where I swore
I wanted to be. When Aunt
Cora picks up, all I can say
through the tears is, “Just
wanted you to know I miss
you. Give Grandfather a kiss
for me. Gotta go now.”
I COULD LET TREY SLEEP
But the desire to escape
this room is driving me crazy.
“Wake up,” I urge. “The day’s
a-wasting.” It’s one of Grandfather’s
favorite sayings, and that wave
of homesickness crests.
Trey shakes off sleep reluctantly.
But when he sees my face, etched
with expectancy, he goes into
the bathroom to shower. I get
dressed again in my one nice
outfit. Brush out my hair. Put
on my shoes, and within one very
long hour, we are ready to go.
We are barely out the door before
I decide my cute Texas-friendly
ballerina-style flats aren’t exactly
suitable for snow. Especially not
snow like this. “Oh!” The word
disappears in a puff of steam.
“It’s just so … beautiful.” Everything
is carpeted white. Morning sun glints
off the clean, mostly undisturbed
drifts. Traffic beyond the parking
lot is light. Slow between the giant
piles of plow-pushed powder.
Definitely a whopper of a storm.
Looks like it’s moved on for now.
My clothes are Texas weight,
and I shiver beneath them. But
a strange feeling floats down
over me. It’s a flurry of calm
I’ve never felt before, and worry
dissipates. Whatever happens,
I know somew
here in all this snow
I’ve found a missing piece of me.
Summer
ADVENTURE OVER
Kyle’s truck is totaled. And with
it, our dream of playing house.
I guess somewhere deep inside
I knew it would come to an end.
Just didn’t know how quickly.
At least we’re alive. Relatively
unscathed. It could have ended
a whole lot worse. Kyle will have
to stay in the hospital a couple
of days. Long enough for his dad
to collect him. Oh my God.
He was pissed. But not nearly
as pissed as he would have been
had Kyle’s blood work shown
him to be under the influence.
And, despite what Kyle believes,
beneath his dad’s overt anger,
a large dose of relief was obvious.
I may not be in a position to judge,
but I think he cares about Kyle.
As for me, bruises. Contusions.
But no broken bones. Nothing
punctured or torn. You were
exceptionally lucky, the ER nurse
said. Good thing you buckled up.
Damn good thing, actually. Also
good they let me stay here overnight.
Waiting room chairs aren’t the most
comfortable things to snooze in,
but they’re better than the kind
that come with too many questions.
Like those in police stations.
I get up from the one I’ve been
in for too many hours, wander
down to Kyle’s room, peek through
the door. Kyle snorts in his sleep.
God, he’s cute, tangled in dreams,
a thick drift of hair across his face.
Whatever happens to me, I hope
he doesn’t get into too much trouble.
TWO NURSES HUSTLE PAST
Laughing about something.
The noise rousts Kyle from
wherever sleep has led him.
He yawns as his eyes open, try
to make sense of the surroundings.
Finally they focus on me. Hey.
He smiles. Tries to sit up in bed.
And then reality crashes around him.
Come over here. What time is it?
I point to the large clock on the wall.
“Little hand on the seven, big hand
on the five.” I draw alongside the bed.
He reaches for me, winces. Okay.
That hurt a little. Pain or no pain,
he takes hold of my hand. Squeezes.
And it hits me that we may not be
holding hands again for some time
to come. My throat knots up
and my eyes burn. Kyle notices.
Hey, now. Everything’s okay. Well,
except for a couple of broken bones.
Tears begin to fall in earnest.
“But your truck is history. So
is Mammoth. And what about us?”
I don’t care about my truck.
Don’t care about Mammoth.
All I care about is you. If any-
thing bad would have happened
to you, I would never have forgiven
myself. This is all my fault.
“No it’s not. Anyway, nothing bad
happened to me. You’re the one
with the broken bones, remember?”
He smiles. Hard to forget. Except
when they want to hold you.
Kind of like now, for instance.
My entire body heats with a warm
flood of love. But the truth of things
tempers it. “What will happen to us?”
He quiets me with a kiss. I don’t
know. But whatever happens, I swear
we’ll still be together. Somehow.
WE LEAVE THE “HOW”
To the future.
Settle for being together
right now. In this moment.
I’m pretty sure
I won’t see him again for
a while. Maybe a long while.
We’ll celebrate
Christmas safe and warm,
at least. Not buried by snow.
After that,
and after the truth
of our situation emerges,
we’ll just have to see.
GRANDPA SCOTT
Reaches the hospital around ten.
I see him wandering down the corridor,
looking for me. Age has not
much diminished his fair good
looks, and the nurses smile
appreciatively. I nudge Kyle.
“There’s my Grandpa Scott.”
Kyle locks eyes with Grandpa,
who stands outside the door,
assessing. He doesn’t like me.
“He doesn’t even know you.
How can he not like you?
I mean, he might be a little
annoyed. But he’s here.”
I go give him a giant hug. “Thanks
for coming. Sorry you had to drive
all this way on Christmas.”
He draws back to give me
a good once-over. Are you
sure you’re okay? We’re just
happy you weren’t hurt.
“I’m fine, Grandpa. Someone
was watching out for us, for sure.”
After quick introductions, Grandpa
excuses himself. I’ll go take care
of the paperwork. We should
probably hit the highway soon.
Was good meeting you, Kyle.
I don’t want to leave, but I know
I have to go. I give Kyle a long,
sweet kiss. “I wish I could stay, but …”
No. Go on. We’ll talk when you get
back…. He pauses there. Neither
of us knows when or where I’ll get
back to. Merry Christmas. I love you.
ONE LAST KISS
And without looking back,
I go to find Grandpa.
He’s at the nurses’ station,
where he has dropped a signed
copy of Grandma Marie’s latest
book for Officer Strohmeyer
to come pick up later. I watch
Grandpa Scott totally schmooze
a plus-size nurse with orange
hair. I’m sure we can find
another copy for you. Write
down your address and I’ll make
sure you get one. I can pull
strings with the author. He winks,
turns to me. Ready to go?
Before I know it, we’re out
the door and in Grandpa’s new
Lexus SUV, cruising toward Christmas
dinner, me fiddling with the seat
heat control, mostly because
it gives my hands something
to do besides tremble. By some
unspoken agreement, neither
of us says a word until we’re
well on our way out of town.
THE HIGHWAY IS MOSTLY CLEAR
But Grandpa drives cautiously.
Have to be careful of black ice,
is his explanation. It is all he says
for a while. But finally he broaches
the necessary inquiry. So we
hadn’t expected you this year.
And Kristina didn’t know you were
coming either. He pauses. Waits.
“It was a last-minute decision,”
I try. “We wanted to surprise you.”
You definitely did that. His voice
is gentle, tinged with humor. And
you surprised everyone else, too.
We called your dad’s to let him know
you were
okay. Someone named
Kortni answered. She said your father
was in jail and as far as she knew,
you were in a foster home in Fresno.
He lets the weight of his words sink
down around us. Was she wrong?
OBVIOUSLY HE KNOWS
She wasn’t wrong. And I’m just
too tired of it all to try and make
up a lie. “No. She was right.”
Despite the Lexus’s luxury, I have
become extremely uncomfortable.
Oh, well. Fabrication is useless.
I launch the story, omitting only the parts
about making love beneath the stars
and Kyle’s farewell to the monster.
Grandpa Scott absorbs it all
in silence. When I finish, he thinks
about things, then spends some
time crafting his comments.
Running away is never a good
decision, Summer. There has
to be a better answer, though
to tell you the truth, I’m not sure
what it is. Let’s get through today
as best we can, then make
some decisions tomorrow.
This should be interesting.
I point as we pass the place where
Kyle and I plunged off the highway
yesterday. Last night’s heavy
snowfall has covered most
of the evidence of the accident.
“You can’t even tell it happened,”
I muse. What I don’t say is how
scary that is. If circumstances
were just a little different,
we could still be down there, buried
in a giant snowdrift. Suffocating.
Or left to slow starvation.
Even without my voicing
those thoughts, Grandpa Scott
gets them. Someone was watching
out for you, all right. You’ve got
something important to do
before you check on out of here.
IMPORTANT? ME?
I’ve never once thought
of myself as
important,
or considered
I might have a special
reason for being. I’ve
mostly thought
of myself
as an accident.
Someone in the way.
Something important to
do? Like what?
Guess I
don’t need to
think about that right
now. Like Grandpa Scott
said, let’s just
get through
today. And make
big decisions tomorrow.
Fallout Page 31