by Cyndi Myers
“I told him I’ll be home by the end of the summer, at the latest.” She didn’t know if she’d last that long, but she’d made a commitment and couldn’t back out now.
“I don’t know how we’re going to do without you here for that long. I was thinking it would only be a few weeks.”
She took a deep breath, fighting against the tension that tightened around her chest like a steel band. “I know I said that, but now that I’m here, I can see that was unrealistic. He’s going to need more time to get back on his feet.”
“Then your mother and brother should pitch into help. They live right there and neither one of them has a family.”
“They won’t help. Del hardly spent five minutes here yesterday.”
“What about a nursing home? Or a rehab facility? His insurance would probably even pay for part of it.” Tom was in problem-solving mode now. For him, everything had a simple answer. But there was nothing simple about her relationship with her father.
“It would kill him to be in a place like that. To have strangers taking care of him. You know how he is about his privacy. His dignity.”
“I know he’s never gone out of his way to do anything for you. And we need you here.” The no-non sense tone she admired when Tom dealt with vendors and difficult customers wasn’t as welcome when it was aimed at her.
“I know you do,” she said, struggling to keep her temper. She’d been away from home scarcely twenty-four hours and he was already complaining. She’d wanted sympathy from him. Support. Not a lecture. “Right now, Dad needs me more.”
“What are you going to do if your father doesn’t recover enough to look after himself again?” Tom asked.
“I don’t know.” Having him come live with them in Denver was out of the question. The doctor had already told her his lungs couldn’t handle the altitude. She sighed. “If Dad doesn’t improve by the end of the summer, we’ll probably have to put him in a nursing home. But give me this summer to try to help him, please.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice softened. “I don’t mean to pressure you. I just… It’s hard to think about dealing with the business and the boys without you. Casey’s not the only one in this house who didn’t realize how good he’s got it.”
She laughed, as much from relief as mirth. “You keep thinking like that. And see when you can get away to come see me.”
“I’ll do that.”
They said their goodbyes, then she dressed and made her bed, and went to get her father ready for his first therapy appointment.
What she hadn’t been able to say to Tom was that she needed to stay here right now as much for herself as for her father. She needed to see if being forced together like this, they could somehow find the close ness that had always eluded them before.
That afternoon, Casey lay on his bed and tossed a mini-basketball at the hoop on the back of the bedroom door. If he aimed it just right, the ball would soar through the hoop, bounce off the door and sail back to him, so that he could retrieve it and start over without changing positions.
Matt was in the shower in the bathroom next to the bedroom they shared. Casey could hear the water pounding against the tile wall, and smell the herbal shampoo Matt liked. He was getting ready to go on a date with his girlfriend, Audra. Were they going to have sex? Casey knew they’d done it because he’d caught Matt hiding a box of condoms in the back of his desk drawer, where he thought Mom wouldn’t find them. Casey had given him a hard time about it. “You’re nineteen, for Christ’s sake,” he’d said, while his older brother’s face turned the color of a ripe tomato. “You shouldn’t have to hide something like that.”
Matt had shoved the box back in the drawer. “Right. Mom would have a cow if she knew.”
“Mom’s always having cows. She’ll get over it.”
He smiled and tossed the ball again, remembering the exchange. The trick to handling Mom was to smile and nod and let her go on for a while, then give her a hug or a kiss and continue as you always had. She was really pretty easy to handle once you knew the secret.
She’d sounded all worried and sad on the phone this morning. Maybe she was upset about Grandpa. That would be pretty rough, seeing your dad in the hospital, all helpless and old. That had probably freaked her out. Mom pre tended to be all tough sometimes, but she was still a girl.
He caught the basket ball on the rebound and launched it again. What would it be like to have a stroke? Mom had said Grandpa couldn’t use his left side. Casey lay back and stiffened his left arm and leg, pre tending they were useless. He imagined trying to walk, dragging his paralyzed leg behind him. If you tried to eat, would you get food all over yourself?
He relaxed and let his mind drift to other topics. Mom had said she’d talk to Dad about the life guard job. That was cool. He knew he was a disappointment to his dad, who wanted him to be more like Matt. Matt was the perfect son. He was going to college and would take over the business someday. Cool, if that’s what he wanted, but couldn’t they see Casey didn’t want anything like that?
Trouble was, he wasn’t sure what he wanted. Still, he was only sixteen. He had plenty of time to figure it out. Whatever he ended up doing, it wasn’t going to require going to school for years and years. Maybe he’d be a musician or an artist. Or he’d invent something fantastic that would make him tons of money.
Maybe he’d be a writer. He’d like that. For as long as he could remember he’d kept note books full of his writing—stories, poems, even songs.
Matt came out of the bathroom and threw a wet towel at him. “I need to borrow your hair gel,” he said.
“For a dollar.”
“What?” Matt glared at him.
“You can borrow my hair gel for a dollar.”
“You’re crazy.” Matt turned away.
Casey didn’t argue. The problem with Matt was that he carried the honest, up standing young man thing too far. If it had been Casey, he would have used his brother’s gel without asking and chances were, Matt never even would have noticed.
“Here, loser.” Matt turned back and tossed a dollar bill toward the bed.
Casey reached out and caught it, smiling to himself. He knew big bro would pay up. He probably hadn’t even thought long about not doing it.
Mentally, he added the dollar to the stash in his backpack. He had almost two hundred dollars now. Not bad for a guy without a job. He made money other ways, like writing love notes to girls for their boy friends, or black mailing the jocks who smoked out behind the gym. Dangerous work, but so far he’d managed to charm his way out of harm.
It was a gift, this ability to smile and talk his way out of tricky situations. A man with a gift like that could go far, no doubt.
“So are you going to work with us this summer?” Matt studied Casey in the dresser mirror as he rubbed gel through his hair.
“No, I’m going to get a job as a life guard at the city pool.”
“You can’t make a career out of being a lifeguard.”
“Why not, if I want to?”
“For one thing, what’ll you do in the winter, when the pool closes?”
“Maybe I’ll move to Florida, or California, where the pools never close.”
“You are such a loser.” Matt pulled a shirt over his head, sneered at his brother one last time, then left.
Casey sighed and lay back on the bed again. Why did people think if you weren’t just like them, you had to be wrong?
He thought about Mom again. Had she sounded so sad on the phone because she was worried about him? He’d tried to tell her she had nothing to worry about, but she probably couldn’t help it. Worrying was a mom thing, like the way she told them, every time they left the house, “Be careful.”
“No, tonight I think I’ll be reckless,” he always answered. She pre tended not to think that was funny, but her eyes told him she was laughing on the inside.
He missed her. She’d sounded like she missed them, too. He sat up, put the dollar in his pocket, and decid
ed he’d take a walk downtown, to see what was going on.
While Martin worked with the occupational therapist, an energetic young woman named Lola, Karen took inventory of the refrigerator and pantry and made a shopping list. When the nurse’s aide came this afternoon, Karen could slip out to buy groceries and refill Dad’s medications.
She was disposing of half a dozen petrified packages of frozen food in the outside trash can when a red minivan pulled into the driveway. As she waited with her hand on the garbage can lid, a plump blonde in pink capris and a pink-and-white-striped sleeve less shirt slid from the driver’s seat. The blonde propped her sun glasses on top of her head and waved.
Karen broke into a run, laughing as she embraced Tammy Collins Wainwright. “Look at you, girl!” Tammy drew back and looked Karen up and down. “I guess living up there in the mountains and working at that landscape business is keeping you young and trim.”
“Denver isn’t really in the mountains, but I guess it does agree with me. And what about you? You look great.” Except for a few lines on her forehead and around her eyes, Tammy hadn’t changed much since their days behind the wheel in driver’s ed class at Tipton Senior High School. The two girls had been pretty much inseparable after meeting in that class. They’d worked behind the counter together at the Dinky Dairy, and had double-dated whenever possible.
Tammy had been the matron of honor in Karen’s wedding, having already married her high school sweet heart, Brady Wainwright. While Karen had moved to Austin and later Colorado, Tammy had stayed in town to raise four children; her youngest, April, was ten.
Tammy’s smile faded. “I’m so sorry about your dad,” she said. “It must be just awful for you.”
Karen nodded, not quite sure how to respond. It was much more terrible for her father, after all. And it wasn’t as if he’d died.
Or was Tammy referring to the fact that Karen had left everything she knew and loved to come take care of a man she wasn’t even sure liked her?
“I brought a cake.” Tammy reached into the van and pulled out a yellow-and-white Tupperware Cake Taker. “I remember how Mr. Martin had a real sweet tooth.”
“And his daughter inherited it.” Karen took the cake carrier from Tammy and walked beside her toward the house. “Did you make this yourself?” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d made a cake.
“Me and Betty Crocker.” Tammy threw her head back and let out peals of laughter.
Lola met them at the door, her “bag of tricks,” as she called her therapy equipment, in hand. “He did very well for his first day,” she said. “He’s worn-out, though. I imagine he’ll sleep for a couple of hours or so. Just let him be and feed him when he wakes up. And I’ll see you Thursday.”
Karen thanked her, then led the way through the house to the screened back porch. This side of the house was shady, and two ceiling fans overhead stirred the slightly cool air. “Do you mind if we sit out here and visit?” she asked. “That way we won’t disturb Dad.”
“That would be great.” Tammy settled in one of the cushioned patio chairs. “I wouldn’t say no to a glass of iced tea.”
“Coming right up. And I thought maybe we’d try this cake with it.”
“I shouldn’t, but I will.”
Karen returned a few minutes later with two glasses of iced tea and two plates with generous slices of the lemon cake. “I already stole a bite,” she said as she sat in the chair across from her friend. “It’s delicious.”
“Thank you.” Tammy took a bite and moaned. “Ooooh, that is good, isn’t it?”
“So tell me what you’ve been up to,” Karen said. “How are Brady and the kids?”
“They’re doing great. April is going into fifth grade in the fall. Brady’s still racing. Our twenty-third wedding anniversary is next month and we’re going to San Antonio for the weekend.”
“That’s great. Congratulations.”
“I’m pretty excited. I can’t remember the last time we went anywhere without the kids. Which is why I shouldn’t be eating this cake.” She pushed her empty plate away. “I want to still be able to fit into the new clothes I bought for the trip.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Your twenty-third is coming up soon, isn’t it?”
Karen nodded. “This fall. I can’t believe it’s been that long.” It seemed like only yesterday she’d been working as a receptionist at the new hospital and Tom had been hired to do the landscaping work. He caused quite a stir among all the young women when he took off his shirt to plant a row of shrubs along the front drive. They’d all wasted count less hours admiring his bronzed muscles and tight blue jeans. When he’d asked Karen to go out with him, she’d been the envy of her coworkers.
“We’re thinking about renewing our vows for our twenty-fifth. You and Tom should think about that. You never had a big wedding. This would be your chance.”
Karen and Tom had eloped. They’d gone to Vegas for the weekend and been married at a chapel there. It had been very sweet and romantic, though at times she regretted not having the big church wedding with the long white dress, et cetera. She pressed the back of her fork into the last of the cake crumbs. “Did I ever tell you the real reason we eloped?” she asked.
Tammy’s eyes widened. “Were you pregnant?”
She laughed. “No. It was because I was afraid my father wouldn’t show up for the wedding and I wanted to save myself that humiliation.”
“Oh, honey!” Tammy leaned over and squeezed Karen’s hand. “Of course he would have shown up for your wedding.”
She shook her head. “He wasn’t there for my high school graduation. He was in the Galapagos, bird-watching. When Matt was born, he was in Alaska, and when I had Casey, he was in Guatemala.”
“But surely your wedding…”
“I didn’t want to risk it.”
Tammy sat back and assumed an upbeat tone once more. “Well, it doesn’t matter how you got married. The point is, it took. Not many couples can say that these days.”
She nodded. The fact that she and Tom had stayed together all these years was pretty amazing, considering they’d known each other all of three months when they decided to tie the knot. She had been only eighteen, trying to decide what to do with her future. She’d liked Tom well enough, but when he’d told her he planned to move to Austin at the end of the summer—over two hundred miles away from Tipton—she’d decided to throw in her lot with him.
She’d latched onto him as her ticket out of town, but stuck with him because he’d showed her a kind of love she’d never known before. Now he was the rock who supported her.
“So how is the birdman?” Tammy asked, using the name the towns people had given Karen’s father long ago. “Cantankerous as ever.” Karen sipped her iced tea, then cradled the glass between her palms, letting the cold seep into her skin. “That’s good, I guess. He’s a fighter. He’ll fight his way back from this, too.”
“They did an article on him in the paper last year. Said he was one of the top ten bird-watchers in the whole world.”
Her mother had sent her a copy of the article. “He’s getting close to eight thousand birds on his list now.”
“Good ness. I can’t imagine seeing that many different birds.”
“It’s taken a long time.” More to the point, listing birds had taken all his time, to the exclusion of almost everything else.
The doorbell sounded and both women jumped up. “That’s probably the nurse’s aide,” Karen said. “The county is sending one every day to help with bathing and things like that.”
“That’s good. That’ll help you.” Tammy sighed and stood. “I’d better go. Jamie has a Little League game tonight, and April has piano practice. Some where in there I’ve got to figure out what to fix for supper.”
“Thanks for the cake. And thanks for stopping by. It was good to see you.”
They hugged, then walked arm-in-arm to the door. “If you need anything, you just holler,” Tammy said. “A
nd when you can get someone else to sit with Mr. Martin for a while, you come out and have dinner with us. Brady and the kids would love to see you.”
“I’ll do that.” Karen let Tammy out and the aide in, then returned to her grocery list. Maybe staying here wasn’t going to be such a hard thing, after all. She did have friends here, and this was a chance for her to get to know her father better, while he was forced to sit still.
It was a second chance for them, and how many people got second chances these days?
3
Even the little spar row, which flits about by the road side, can laugh at us with his impudent little chirp, as he flies up out of reach to the top most branch of a tree.
—Arabella B. Buckley, The Fairy-Land of Science
Casey had never ridden a Grey hound bus before, but it was pretty much the way he’d imagined: tall-backed, plastic-covered seats filled with people who all looked a little down on their luck. They wore old clothes and carried shopping bags stuffed with packages and groceries and more old clothes. They were brown and black and white, mostly young, but some old. The woman in front of him had three little brown-haired, brown-eyed boys who kept turning around in their seats to look at him. Their mother would scold them in Spanish and they would face forward again, only to look back in a few minutes, unable to keep from staring at the white kid all alone on the bus.
At first he’d only intended to see how much it would cost to get from Denver to Tipton, Texas. But when he saw it was only a hundred and thirty dollars and there was a bus leaving in thirty minutes, he’d decided to buy the ticket and go. Mom had sounded so sad and worried on the phone. She was down there all alone with her sick father and nobody to help her, really. He could cheer her up and help, too.
The main thing about traveling on a bus was that it was boring. He spent a lot of time listening to CDs on his portable player and staring out the window. Not that there was much to see—the bus stayed on the interstate, mainly, cruising past fields and bill boards and the occasional junkyard or strip of cheap houses. He made faces at the little boys in front of him, until their mother turned around and said something to him in Spanish. He didn’t understand it, but from her tone it sounded as if she was cussing him out or something.