Fish out of Water

by Natalie Whipple

  “There has to be a way to pay for it,” I say. “What if you use the money I make at AnimalZone? Would that help at all?”

  “It would have to be a lot more than what you make, sweetheart,” Mom says in a cloying tone. It makes me feel like a kid. I already know I make pennies in comparison to them—way to rub it in.

  Dad chews on his lip. “There’s only one other option we’ve thought of. But I don’t think—”

  “What is it?” I lean forward, excited by another possibility. Maybe they don’t want to do it, but I could talk them into it.

  “We’ve been talking about taking from your college fund … ”

  My eyes go wide. “Excuse me?”

  “We were only discussing it,” Mom says. “It was a last resort. And you’ll probably get scholarships—we’d know that early next year. It would be the only way to pay for it, but even that would only last a few years.”

  It feels like someone knocked the wind out of me. They’ve been hard on me all these years, but I take it because I believe it’s made me a better person. I’m responsible, hard-working, well-rounded, and everything they wanted me to be. They never let me walk the easy route, but they were at least planning to help me with college. Now Betty has even put that in jeopardy?

  “So let me get this straight … ” I put my hand over my mouth, trying not to scream. “Either I agree to pitching in with my racist, crazy grandmother I don’t even know, willingly walk away from the summer of interning you promised me, or I give up my college fund and screw over my future?”

  Both of them cringe.

  “That’s bullshit!” I shoot up from my bed, unable to contain my anger while sitting. I want to scream and punch things. I want to tell them to go to hell because how could they do this to me? It’s so beyond unfair that there’s only one choice to make—I’m not giving up my future. Leaving in a year, after I graduate, is all I have to cling to right now. “So what? Do I have to quit my job and stay at home with her all day while you have all the fun at work?”

  “No!” Mom comes over and puts her hands on my shoulders. I’m so mad I push them off. She doesn’t even tell me I’m being disrespectful. That’s how I know they’re aware of what jerks they’re being. “We’ve looked into respite care. It’s much more affordable and would give us all a break from her when we need it.”

  “Respite care?” I repeat. “What’s that?”

  Dad stands now, too. “There are caretakers who specialize in Alzheimer’s, and they come to your home part time to help with the hardest parts. If we paid for someone to handle the mornings, you could do the afternoons, and Mom and I would take the evenings.”

  “So it would be just me and her all afternoon?” I ask.

  They nod.

  This summer keeps getting worse and worse. I wish I could swear to move out. But I can’t. College is right around the corner. Just tough it out. “This sucks.”

  Dad raises an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’ll help?”

  “What else can I do when all you’ve given me are shitty options?”

  Even though I’m clearly pissed off, Mom still gives me her proudest smile. “We’ll make it work, okay? I’m not happy about it, either, but maybe it won’t be as bad as we think.”

  Try as I might, I can’t restrain the eye roll.

  She hugs me in return. “I’ll ignore the attitude, because I know you probably want to do a lot more than that.”

  “You think?” I mumble into her shoulder.

  “Goodnight, Mika.” They head for my door, victorious in ruining my life completely.

  “Night,” I grumble as I flop onto my bed. My head spins when I think about what I begrudgingly agreed to do. It’s one thing to tolerate Betty’s presence, but to have to interact with her every day? Take care of her? That takes compassion, and she dried up mine weeks ago. I don’t know how I’ll do this.

  Just as I’m about to turn out my light, my phone chirps. Grabbing it, I find a text from Shreya. Are u available for a sleepover?

  I purse my lips, confused. Shreya and I have never had a sleepover—her parents don’t want her at other people’s houses overnight. Did something happen?

  Her reply is immediate. Oh, u know, stormed out of house w/o thinking it thru.

  I have a feeling this has something to do with what she mentioned about her parents and marriage.

  I fought with my parents tonight, too. It’s like we’re soul mates.

  Seriously? You guys never fight.

  Come over. I’ll prep movie and popcorn.

  Ur the best :)

  Don’t forget it ;P I squeeze my eyes shut, a sudden wave of tears threatening to break through. If it wasn’t for Shreya, I might have spent the whole night letting them fall to my pillow, but at least now I have something else to focus on.

  Chapter 12

  Shreya has nothing but her bike with her when she arrives. Her eyes are swollen from what I assume was a lot of crying. She bends down to lock the frame to my porch. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  “Shrey, of course.” I put my arm around her as we go inside. “Even if you’d shown up out of nowhere, I would have let you in.”

  “Do your parents … ?” She looks down, embarrassed.

  “They’re fine with it.” Not that I actually told them, but they better be fine with it after the bomb they just dropped on me.

  She gives me a hug. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “C’mon.” I lead her to the living room, and we get comfortable in front of the TV. I hand her a bowl of popcorn and a soda. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She curls in on herself and clicks her nail on the can. “I probably made too big a deal out of it. It wasn’t even about me, but it felt like it could be next time.”

  “What happened?”

  “Pavan brought a girl home … a blond girl who can’t look any more white.” She shakes her head, now glaring at the soda. “He is such an idiot. He could have at least mentioned he was dating her—well, now they’re engaged. My parents blew up and threw them out.”

  I can hardly believe it. I don’t know Pavan well, only that he’s the middle brother and somewhere around twenty-nine years old. “Then what happened?”

  “They started screaming at us.” Shreya’s tears come anew. “They told us they’d throw us all out if we ever did the same thing, that they are ashamed to have raised Pavan. I never thought … they told us we can’t even speak to Pavan.”

  Rubbing her shoulder, I try to imagine such chaos. “It came as such a surprise, maybe they’ll calm down after awhile.”

  She snorts. “Ever the optimist. Even when your own parents went through pretty much the same thing.”

  “It’s not the same. Your parents don’t hate people—they had to know coming to America meant this could happen, right?”

  “You’d think. Maybe I’ll just never get married, and then I’ll never have to hurt anyone.” She pulls her knees in, cradling the popcorn like it’s the only good thing in the world. “If Pavan’s feelings don’t matter to them, mine won’t.”

  Refusing to admit she might be right, I decide to change the subject. “Let’s watch a movie. And eat stuff we shouldn’t.”

  She smiles the tiniest bit. “The movie?”

  “As you wish.” I waggle an eyebrow, and that gets a laugh out of her. The Princess Bride is kind of ancient, but when we first watched it at Olivia’s house we were hooked. From eleven years old and on, it’s been our go-to movie whenever one of us is down. It’s impossible to feel bad while watching it, with all the ridiculous lines and Westley being so hot.

  My phone rings just as they reach the Cliffs of Insanity. I cringe when I see the number. “Shrey, it’s your mom. What should I do?”

  She looks terrified. “I don’t know … ”

  Neither of us are the rebelling type. I’m still reeling over the fact that Shreya left her house in the first place. Olivia’s the wild one who pushes us out of our co
mfort zones. She’d know what to do. Too bad her phone doesn’t work overseas.

  The call is about to go to voicemail when I hit “accept.” “Hello?”

  “Mika!” Shreya’s mom sounds like she’s sobbing. “Is Shreya there?”

  I look at my best friend, hoping she’ll tell me what to do. Shreya hangs her head, and I sigh. “Yeah, she’s here.”

  Her mom says something in Hindi. It sounds relieved. “I’m so sorry to impose. I will come and get her.”

  “She can stay,” I say quickly. “You guys have had a rough night, and I’ll take care of her. She just got scared is all—she’s not mad. We’re in the middle of a movie.”

  There’s a pause, which I use to say a little prayer. Please, please let her have this one thing.

  “Her father won’t be happy,” her mom says. “But it would be good for her to be somewhere else while he calms down.”

  “Thank you! I promise I’ll have her to work on time.”

  When I hang up, Shreya looks like she could squeal in excitement, but since there are sleeping people she flails around and giggles. I try not to laugh, because I’m just as happy that we finally get to do this.

  “I can’t believe you convinced her!” Shreya says. “Let’s take a picture and post it so Olivia can be jealous she’s missing our first sleepover.”

  “Yes! We have to!” I run and get my laptop, and we spend the next few minutes trying to get a decent picture on my webcam. When I do, I post it to Instagram and tag Olivia just because it’ll bug her. Then Shreya logs me out and gets on her profile to comment and be even dorkier. Soon it’s like nothing bad ever happened.

  Westley and Princess Buttercup escape the Fire Swamp as Shreya says, “Do you know Dylan’s last name? Is it the same as Clark’s?”

  My stomach flips. “No, Shrey, don’t.”

  She starts typing.

  “Shrey!” I lunge for the computer, but she hops up and over to the kitchen table. She’s pulled up Facebook just like I guessed, and she’s already done the search I promised I’d never do.

  “Inconceivable!” she says. “You gotta see this, Mika.”

  “I don’t want to.” I stare at the TV, determined to stay in place and watch the movie like I should.

  “His wall is a running spam of scantily clad girls asking why he’s not around and when he’s coming back. I guess he’s cut off from technology along with food and who knows what else.” A few clicks. “His profile info is a bunch of crap. Location: In Your Pants.”

  “Ugh, gross.”

  “And yet kind of funny. Dang, his photos are private.”

  I whimper, my conversation with Olivia still too fresh. “Can we not talk about Dylan? I have enough of him in my life.”

  “You’re no fun. I’m trying to distract myself here.” She shuts the laptop. “Is he really that bad?”

  “Pretty much.” Except then I picture him smiling at me, saying thanks. Why, out of all the stupid things he’s done, does that stick out? I prefer him being a jerk.

  Chapter 13

  There is a decidedly nervous energy as we wait for the person my dad hired to care for Betty. It took him another week to decide on the right service—which was nothing short of torture—but he finally went through a place called Monterey Meadows Home Care, which sounds non-threatening enough.

  “I don’t like this,” Betty says to her oatmeal as she lets a clump plop back into the bowl.

  Dad sighs. “But you asked for oatmeal.”

  “I did?” She frowns. “Why would I ask for this crap?”

  I swallow my last bite of toast, beyond exhausted over her food complaints. Every morning she insists on oatmeal, and she always hates it. She doesn’t seem to like much of anything. I just want her to be quiet, so I say, “We told you it wouldn’t taste good plain. Do you want some brown sugar in it now?”

  She nods.

  “I can’t wait to go back to work,” Dad grumbles under his breath.

  Yeah, go have all the fun while I’m stuck with Dylan and Betty, thanks. I still have a hard time talking to my parents after they betrayed me. Mostly I curse them in my head and glare. I grab the brown sugar from the counter where I left it because I was sure Betty would want it. As I sprinkle it over her oatmeal, there’s a loud knock at the door.

  Mom and Dad jump up, and even I can’t help but follow behind them. Maybe I hate the plan my parents came up with, but after another week of dealing with her on our own I’m ready to have expert help. Monterey Meadows said they would send a caregiver that fit Betty’s needs, based on a questionnaire my dad filled out. But it seems impossible that they would know the right kind of person from that, and now that person will probably be a big part of our lives for who knows how long.

  Mom opens the door, and there stands a perfectly manicured man in scrubs. Rhinestone-studded scrubs. He’s not very tall, but he’s fit and looks like he’s never been happier in his life. He gives us a big wave, and says, “Hello, Arlingtons! I’m Joel, and your life is about to get so much easier because of me.”

  I wish I could scowl to show my displeasure with the plan, but I can’t help smiling. He could not be more perfect. At least for my entertainment; maybe not for Betty. Oh well.

  Dad grins like a fool. “Nice to meet you. Come right in.”

  “Thank you.” Joel steps inside and points to my mom. “Now, let me guess—Yumi.” Then to me. “Mika.” And to my dad. “Stanley. So that leaves my lovely new best friend, Betty. Where is the lucky lady?”

  “This way.” Mom leads Joel to the kitchen, where Betty is still scowling at her oatmeal like it gravely offended her.

  Joel smiles wide. “Betty! How are you today?”

  She looks up from her bowl, surprised at the sight of this new person in her life. “You have rhinestones on your shirt.”

  He laughs. “If you had to wear ugly scrubs all day, wouldn’t you want to pretty them up?”

  She thinks about this for a moment. “I suppose so.”

  “Right?” Joel sits next her, his hands placed under his chin. “I think we’ll get along perfectly. I’m Joel, by the way.”

  She nods.

  He turns to us. “Now, can I give you the run-down? How much time before you need to go?”

  “Oh, sure. We have a minute,” my dad says.

  Joel claps his hands together. “Perfect! First and foremost, I believe in positivity. Patients tend to become negative, so we all need to laugh and have fun as much as possible, all right? All right.”

  Okay, maybe I won’t like him, because I won’t be chipper about this.

  He goes into the kitchen and starts looking through drawers like he owns the place. I guess this will be his home five mornings a week. “I’m happy to help Betty with all the basics—dressing, washing, eating—so you won’t need to worry about her hygiene. I also like to help keep the house clean if I can.” He gives us a stern look. “But I am not a maid. I’m Betty’s best friend, and we’ll all get along if you don’t forget that.”

  “Of course,” my mom says. “We’re so grateful for you already and happy to take any advice.”

  Joel smiles. “Now that’s what I like to hear. Can you show me her room and the bathroom?”

  I grab my work things while my parents acquaint Joel with the rest of the house. Betty stares at the hallway, a quizzical look on her face. “Is that man really my best friend?”

  “Yes?” I say.

  “He does seem very nice, though I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a man wear rhinestones … ”

  I gulp, realizing Joel could easily end up on her hate list if she realizes he’s gay. Time to break out a lie. “Really? Guys wear rhinestones all the time—it’s totally in fashion. He’s really cute.”

  She laughs. “I always was a sucker for the blond ones.”

  Joel and my parents emerge just as she says this, and he narrows his eyes. “Were you two gossiping about me?”

  “Only good things,” I say, shouldering my bag. “I should
probably get going. It was nice to meet you, Joel.”

  “I’ll walk you out!” He hooks arms with me when I’m in range. “Your parents told me I’ll be handing Betty over to you in the afternoons. Is that right?”

  “Yup.” My voice is cold, and I can tell he picked up on it.

  He looks me over. “I get the sense you’re not happy about this.”

  “Why would I be?” I look at the ground, the anger as fresh as it was the day they told me I was stuck doing this.

  He nods, and I hate to admit it seems like he understands. “Alzheimer’s isn’t easy to deal with, no matter the circumstances. I can’t promise it’ll get better, but if you choose to really take care of her, Mika, you will come to love her. That will make it easier in some ways, but harder in others.”

  This advice makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want to take care of Betty, let alone love her. But saying this out loud will only make me sound like a jerk, especially when Joel does this for a living. “Well, I guess I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  He squeezes my shoulder. “Yup. And you’ll do great. Just remember that transitioning to a different caretaker can be hard for her; any change will be. It’s not your fault if she has a hard time adjusting when you get home. So many family members feel guilty for things they shouldn’t.”

  Whatever. I nod. “See you later.”

  “We’ll be great friends, Mika. I just know it!”

  Can he be more over-the-top happy? It makes me want to punch something. I’m glad Joel’s here to help, but he can’t wash away the negative aura that has permeated our house since Betty showed up almost four weeks ago. As I ride to work, I keep thinking about how nice it would be if I didn’t have to go back home in four hours.

  When I get to Aquatics, Dylan is lounging at the island doing nothing, like usual. I grit my teeth. The one week he promised to clean tanks without a fight is over, so of course he doesn’t bother. I’m about to run over there and cuss him out when a high-pitched squeal hits the air.