Fish out of Water

by Natalie Whipple

  “You really care about her, don’t you?” he asks.

  The question takes me off guard, but the answer is even more surprising to me. “Yeah, I guess I do. When she first got here I didn’t understand what she was going through, but now that I do I feel like it’s wrong to hate her for something she can’t control. Maybe if she could, she’d change her mind now. But she can’t.”

  “Fine, I’ll do it because it means so much to you.” He gives me a long kiss. “Guess I’ll have to wait for our date for more of this.”

  I narrow my eyes. “That’s why you’re really mad, isn’t it? You can’t just kiss me all afternoon.”

  “Let’s go inside.” He pulls me towards the door, avoiding the question. We’re met with laughter inside, and I’m relieved. Joel, Shreya, and Betty lounge on the couch watching what I’m pretty sure is Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Dad loves that movie, but I still don’t get why. The Princess Bride is way better.

  Joel stands when he sees us. “Mika, did you know Betty can quote this entire movie?”

  “Really?”

  “She does an uncanny impression of the Black Knight.”

  I smile, wondering if this is why Dad likes the movie. Did they watch it as kids? Suddenly I’m picturing him, Uncle Greg, and Aunt Jenny huddled around an old TV in a run-down trailer watching this with their mom. Maybe not all his memories are bad ones. “So she was okay today?”

  His smile cracks for a second. “She talked a lot about her father abandoning them. We put in the movie to distract her.”

  “Huh.” I look over to Betty, still laughing with Shrey. “She’s mentioned that before, but I don’t know anything about it.”

  He nods. “Better figure it out now before she forgets entirely.”

  “Yeah.” The thought is sobering. It feels like there’s a clock ticking away my chances of getting to know my grandmother better. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Of course, sweetie.” He looks back and forth between Dylan and me, his smile sly. “You two behave yourselves.”

  My eyes go wide—he sure picked up on that like a bloodhound.

  Dylan laughs. “I’ll try.”

  I smack him, hoping Betty didn’t hear. “Shh. Get to work.”

  “Psh, taskmaster.”

  He heads to the laundry room, and I sit down next to Shreya on the couch. She doesn’t look away from the TV, and I know I’m in trouble. “Let me guess, you still haven’t asked.”

  I hang my head.

  “It’s been a week.”

  “I know. I’m a horrible friend.”

  She sighs. “You’re not. I wouldn’t be mad if I had more options, but this job hunt is a huge fail. If I don’t have a paycheck soon I won’t have a phone. Plus, I wanted to give some kind of rent to your parents.”

  “Shrey, you don’t have to do that,” I say.

  She purses her lips. “I feel so useless.”

  “You’re not.” I put my arm around her. “I swear I’ll ask tomorrow.”

  “I’m asking on Monday if she chickens out,” Dylan says as he wheels the fresh water barrel to my room. “I got your back, Shrey.”

  He disappears, but she still smiles at the hall. “He’s really sweet, Mika.”

  “Who would’ve guessed, right?” I bite my lip, torn between staying here with Shreya and going to my room with Dylan. But I can’t leave her with Betty like that, especially when she’s been here all morning.

  She elbows me. “Go.”

  I look at her, surprised.

  She rolls her eyes. “Your angst is suffocating. I’ll watch Betty.”

  I give her a big hug. “You are the best friend in the whole entire world.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Tiptoeing to my room, I peek in. Dylan is hard at work scrubbing my tanks, then he pauses to look at my pictures. He puts his finger to one and sighs happily—I have never felt so wanted in my life. I step inside and shut the door behind me.

  He jumps, but when he sees me he smiles. “What’re you doing?”

  I shrug. “Making sure we have privacy.”

  He drops the scrubber, and we meet in the middle. He wraps his arms around my waist, his lips urgent on mine. It’s been way too long since I’ve kissed him like this, and I plan to get my fill.

  Chapter 32

  It’s hard to focus on our sand sculpture when I have a date with Dylan in a few hours, but I try anyway. Shreya needs these days at the beach more than I do—she’s in her element, carving her side of the Taj Mahal like a pro. Last Saturday we made a coiled cobra, and the battered remains of it stand about fifty feet away from us.

  “Lots of people today,” I say. We’ve gathered a crowd that presses down on us in a thick circle. “I think we’re getting famous.”

  She smiles. “Maybe we’ll have to move beaches, throw people off.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, if they keep crowding in on us like this.”

  “Can you people back up?” Olivia calls from her perch on a towel next to us. “You’re in my sun!”

  The crowd thins at her command. I don’t know how she does that, but she’s always had a dominating presence. She turns so she’s on her stomach, grinning at us. “That better?”

  “Yes, thanks.” Shreya doesn’t take her eyes off the sand, the wall needing to be perfect to support the heavy domes on top.

  “Do you need to be tanner?” I ask Olivia. “You’re about as brown as a white girl can get.”

  “I like the sun! Leave me alone. I don’t need another Mika Skin Cancer Lecture.”

  I laugh. “Oh, fine.”

  Time passes slower than ever today. I love being with my friends, but at the same time I’m so excited for this date I can barely contain myself. It’s nice to spend so much time with Dylan at work, but it’ll be even better to do fun things with him, to hold his hand and wear normal clothes and not be interrupted by customers. I’ve already planned to wear the fish shirt he bought me, plus my best jeans. Casual but cute. Perfect for the Aquarium.

  “Mika,” Shreya says.

  I look up, wondering if that wasn’t the first time she said my name. “Yeah?”

  She snorts. Crap, she obviously had to repeat herself. “What do you think of this arch? I swear it’s not centered.”

  I tilt my head, analyzing the middle one. “I can’t tell.”

  She gets up and walks away to get a better view. I follow her. The sculpture is starting to look like the Taj Mahal, and will look even better when we carve in the details. “Maybe it’s fine.”

  “I think it is. Once we do the one on the left it’ll look right.” I nudge her. “Too bad you can’t make money off this, because you’re really good at it.”

  She nods. “Well, we make a good team. If only we could travel to competitions. I’ll do the other arch—you’re losing focus every second.”

  “I am not!”

  Olivia laughs. “Mika, you are so head over heels it’s not even funny. Though how could you not be? Dylan’s gorgeous. You should bring him around more so I can at least enjoy the view.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m trying to be a good friend here. You guys are important to me, too, and I know you don’t like me bringing my boyfriends along.”

  “That’s not true,” Shrey says, digging into the sand to make the third arch.

  “We just didn’t like your other boyfriends.” Olivia pulls out a water bottle from our cooler.

  I laugh. “You never said this while we were dating!”

  Olivia shrugs. “Not really our place to tell you who to date, is it? But I like Dylan. He fits with you, and he’s funny.”

  “I agree,” Shrey says. “So stop tiptoeing around us.”

  “Fine.” I try to focus on the sculpture, but it doesn’t work. I can’t stop thinking about the fact that my friends approve of Dylan. Because if they like him, then it means this is more serious than I might be ready for. With my other boyfriends, I knew my friends wouldn’t like them, and that made it easi
er to find a way out when I wanted.

  With Dylan, I don’t want a way out.

  I set down my carver, my hand shaking too much to do the fine detail. I’ve put myself in a place where I’ll be the one losing if we break up—I don’t like this feeling. If he left … I can’t even think about it. I knew I was taking a risk liking him, but I’m in so deep I could drown.

  “Mika?” Olivia says. “Are you okay?”

  I try to shake it off. “It feels like things are getting serious so fast, and you guys liking him … it’s just weird.”

  She throws sand at me. “That’s how it’s supposed to be! Just chill out and enjoy it. Both of us would love to be in your situation, you know.”

  Shreya nods shyly. “In time, yes.”

  I get the sense they’ve been talking about me when I’m not around. It doesn’t feel like they’re jealous, but something feels off. Shreya and Olivia usually tell me everything. Right now I’m sure that’s not the case.

  “You’re right. Sorry.” I take a deep breath and force myself to listen to Olivia. Why should I be afraid? Dylan hasn’t kept his feelings secret. I hold on to that, savor the truth of it, and smile. “I better get going. I need to shower and look nice.”

  “Have fun,” Olivia says. “And don’t worry, I’ll take care of Shrey all day.”

  “I’m not a dog!” Shrey throws a plastic trowel at her.

  Olivia laughs. “Should I get a collar?”

  When I get home, I can hear screaming even before I get inside the house. The words become clearer when I come through the front door. “Don’t come near me! Go away! I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.”

  “Mom … ” Dad’s voice is mock calm, the kind of calm you use when you’re scared but trying not to be.

  “Don’t talk to me! You have no right to be anywhere near me—especially with that whore next to you. How could you bring her here after all you did to us? Go to hell! I wish you had died!”

  I peek around the corner, afraid of what I’ll see. Betty looks wild, pulling at her hair so hard I’m afraid it’ll come out. Tears stream down her face even though she’s so angry my parents keep their distance. She’s had some bad moments, but this is the worst I’ve seen and it scares me. This isn’t just some forgetful moments or rudeness. She actually looks full on crazy.

  “Mom … ” Dad holds out his shaking hand. “I think you have me confused for someone else. I’m your son, Stanley.”

  “I don’t have a son!” Her words are so shrill I worry she’ll lose her voice. “How could I have a son?”

  “Who do you think I am?” he tries.

  “You know who you are!” She grabs a heavy vase from the table, and my mom gasps. “I know what you did! She said you were dead but I knew. Gracie didn’t believe me, but I KNEW. I found the letter you sent Mom!”

  “You think I’m … your father?” Dad asks.

  “OF COURSE YOU ARE!” Betty throws the vase at him.

  Dad grabs Mom, and they duck just in time. The vase shatters on the coffee table behind them, sending shards all the way to where I hide. That’s when I step out—my sandals crunch over broken glass as I scream, “Stop it!”

  Betty doesn’t stop, but instead points at my dad like she’s telling on him. “He left her. He left the US. He left his country. And for what? An ugly Oriental whore he claimed to be in love with! I HATE HIM. We lost everything because of—”

  Her face crumples as she clutches her chest, and despite the horrible things she said I’m horrified to see her hit the ground. I run over to her, put my hand on her shoulder. “Betty? Are you … ?”

  When her eyes meet mine, all I see in them is terror. She’s not okay. Mentally or physically. Not even close. I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure she’s having a heart attack. My parents pick themselves up from the floor, and I wonder if I look as scared as they do when I say, “Call 911.”

  Chapter 33

  I haven’t spent much time in hospitals, but as my parents and I huddle in the waiting room I’m positive I want to spend as little time here as possible. This place reminds me too much of my parents’ lab, except instead of studying fish they study humans. Dying, sick humans.

  What if Betty dies?

  I keep thinking about it no matter how hard I try not to. The EMTs rushing into our house, using the defibrillator, getting her on a gurney and saying all these things that sounded like she was already gone. Maybe it’s been hard to have her around, but I never wanted her to die. Who’s horrible enough to wish someone dead?

  She can’t. She just got here, and I need to know if what she screamed about was true. I think it is. It explains everything, why she’s so hard on the outside but still like a child inside. Why she pushes people away although she wants them so badly.

  My stomach rolls as I imagine her somewhere in this awful place on an operating table. Please, please let her live.

  A doctor in sea green scrubs comes through the big double doors. He looks over the waiting room and zones in on us. “Are you the Arlingtons?”

  “Yes.” My dad straightens his glasses. “I’m Stanley.”

  “Your mother, Elizabeth Arlington?”

  Dad nods. I wish the doctor would get to the point already.

  “She’s in surgery now. I’m afraid we won’t know the extent of the damage until it’s over, but we do know it was a major heart attack. I pulled her records and noticed her cholesterol and blood pressure were quite high.” He puts his pen to the clipboard. “Now, the EMTs said you described a stressful event taking place when this happened. Could you provide me more information?”

  My dad takes a deep breath. “You probably saw in her records that she’s been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. When I came into the room with my wife—after having been gone only a few minutes—she started screaming. We figured out that she had mistaken me for her father, who she did not have a good relationship with. She threw a vase and just after that collapsed.”

  It sounds so … not intense in summary. The doctor clearly doesn’t find it that horrific, but I’m still reeling. Her anger was so palpable, her sorrow as real as if her father had left yesterday.

  The doctor finishes his notes, seeming satisfied. “The stress must have aggravated an already dangerous situation. I’ll have more for you after she’s out of surgery.”

  “How long will that be?” Mom asks.

  The doctor purses his lips. “Hard to say, not knowing how much has been damaged. I would guess at least six hours to be on the safe side. Standard bypass is around four.”

  Since Betty fell I haven’t looked at a clock, but my stomach sinks when I see it’s already a quarter to three. Dylan. He’ll be waiting for me, and I have no way to call him.

  I push two on my phone—the speed dial for Shreya. She doesn’t pick up. I try three—Olivia. Nothing there either. I sigh. Of course I can’t get a hold of them. Either they’re still at the beach sculpting and too far away to hear their phones, or they’ve gone somewhere else to spend the afternoon. Maybe a movie. Or the spa. Olivia has gotten us in there for free a couple times.

  There’s only one other person to call, and I’d rather not. My finger hovers over Clark’s home number. I take a deep breath and press it. Each ring makes my heart pound, and my mind races through what I’m supposed to say.

  Turns out I don’t have to say anything, because he doesn’t answer either. He must be at the store, so I call there. Nothing. Again. I hang up at the voicemail message. This isn’t something for voicemail.

  Well, I tried. What else can I do but call again later? I don’t have his email, though he probably isn’t allowed to check it anyway. I lean back in the seat, already exhausted. The doctor finishes with my parents, and then it’s quiet for too long. I’m not sure any of us know how to deal with death well. Dad never even told me his Aunt Grace died, and Mom’s grandparents are still alive. I’ve talked to both sets of them online, even though they think the internet is weird. I guess I would too if I was a hundred years
old.

  “What are we gonna do?” I finally say. “We just sit here?”

  Mom frowns. “I’m sorry, you had your big date, huh.”

  I shake my head. “This is more important, but what do we do? There’s nothing we can do for her?”

  Dad sighs. “We can be here. That’s about it.”

  “It doesn’t seem like enough.” I feel like we did something wrong, like maybe if we had taken better care of her this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe if I was nicer to her from the start, or if I’d tried to learn more about Alzheimer’s, or if we’d taken her to the doctor every week. I don’t say any of this out loud. My parents already look stressed.

  “It is enough.” The bump in my dad’s throat bobs, and it seems like he’s holding back tears. “No one’s ever been there for her, I don’t think. Not even me. Sitting here, even if she doesn’t know we are, would mean more to her than anything.”

  I nod, tears pricking my eyes. “Is what she said true? About her dad?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe. She told us he died in the war. I never thought to question it. But if he really left like that … well, it makes sense. It doesn’t excuse her behavior, and yet I’m glad I understand it better.”

  “This isn’t the first time she’s hinted at it,” I admit. “I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry, I didn’t think anything like this would happen.”

  “Whoaaa … ” Dad leans forward, his hazel eyes locked on mine. “Do you think this is your fault?”

  I look down.

  “Mi-chan, none of us could have seen this coming. We’ve done our best to take care of her, and her health was already poor. Her disinterest in food has actually been kind of helpful for her weight, but it didn’t help fast enough.”

  “And we can’t control what she remembers or how she reacts,” Mom adds. “We didn’t do anything differently. She was fine all morning.”