Runaway Mortal

by Kant, Komal

  But then again, so am I.

  Fergie was done eating and laid by my feet. Jesse had gone back to unpacking. She found Mom’s kitchen radio, grabbed her iPod and plugged it in. And while I felt relieved to not have a silent house, it’s unnerving when the first sounds are the piano from Dream Lover by Bobby Darin.

  I stood up, heading over to turn off the music. I couldn’t bear to hear anything Mom loved. I was about to press the power button, when Jesse’s hand grabbed mine and pushed it away.

  “Don’t,” is all she said. I couldn’t look at her because I can feel the tears stinging the back of my eyes. Didn’t she understand it hurt to hear it? Her hand remained in front of the radio, waiting to block my hand again. I moved to turn it off again. She blocked me. “I need to hear her. I need to hear Mom.”

  I have nothing to say back to her. What she needs hurts me, but I can’t deny her this.

  “I’m going back upstairs.”

  “Unpack your room, Kid.”

  I give her a noncommittal shrug. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.

  Fergie and I leave Jesse to the downstairs all night and I only come down to let Fergie out before bed. I’m eager to sleep. I’m eager to forget.

  When I woke, my clock revealed I’d been asleep for 12 hours, but I felt like I could stay in bed for a few more. Fergie is patiently waited for me to crawl out of bed to let her out.

  Without her, I doubt I would get out of my bed.

  She walked beside me, but when I let her out, she stood at the door, her head tipped to the side. “Go potty,” I tell her. She waited. “Don’t you have to pee?” I asked her. She tilted her head to the other side. I left her at the door, ran to the bathroom and came back and find her in the same spot, but with a ball in her mouth.

  Jesse came in behind me with a coffee mug in her hand. Her hair was wet and she looked like she was ready for the day. How long has she been up?

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Fergie won’t go to the bathroom.”

  “She’s already been out,” she told me. I looked at her confused. Fergie never leaves me. Dad was the only person Fergie ever followed around if I was in the house.

  “You were dead to the world, and she was whining for you to get up. You didn’t, so I let her out, and threw the ball for her. She’s still relentless with that thing.” She gave a head nod toward Fergie still waiting for me to throw it. “Go throw the ball for her.”

  Jesse walked over to turn up the music on the radio and straighten a picture she had hung up. It was one of Mom’s a crazy swirl of blues, greens, purples and yellows. I hadn’t heard the music or noticed the picture. Mom’s music was background music in the house, just like the family artwork was, and while it hurt to hear American Woman by Kravitz and see my mom’s brush strokes, my mind hadn’t really noticed it. Music and art was a normal facet of our lives, thanks to Mom. Suddenly, a little realization happened. Jesse was trying to make things normal. But maybe normal wasn’t the right word for it. Familiar. Jesse was trying to make this house familiar for us.

  Fergie let out a bark. “OK, I’m getting my jacket.”

  I played with her for a little while, and we came in to Jesse making breakfast. Having meals made for me was a new thing. Mom was awesome at the domestic thing, but if she was busy painting, food became inconsequential to her. Dad didn’t get home until 5, so if I wanted to eat, I made the meal. Jesse had until she moved out, and when she did, I took over making food for the family.

  That might be the one good thing about living with Jesse again. She’s a good cook.

  I sat down and watched her flit in and out of the kitchen. I used to watch Mom always walking gracefully, slowly, and with a purpose. Jesse, more or less, rushed into a room repeatedly looking for numerous things she had misplaced. I don’t think Dad ever lost things. I would just yell to Mom asking where I last put whatever I was looking for, and she would know. Jesse clearly was not going to be able to do that for me.

  “I’m going to your school in an hour. Why don’t you go shower and come with me?” When I continued to eat and not respond, she pressed a bit harder. “It’ll be good for you to get out of the house and have an idea where you are going tomorrow.”

  “I’m not going to school tomorrow.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you about this.”

  “You’re not my mom,” I shot back at her. I wanted to take it back as soon as I said it. Jesse tensed, her lips drawing to a straight line. I knew it hurt her. I knew I shouldn’t have said it. “Jesse, I’m sor–“

  “You’re right. I’m not Mom. I’m never going to be, and nor do I want to be. But Mom and Dad left me in charge of you and they would want you to go to school, so that’s what you are going to do. There’s no room for discussion. If you want to go with me, be ready in an hour.”

  She grabbed the frying pan off the stove and dumped the remaining contents of the scrambled eggs into Fergie’s bowl, threw the pan in the sink and walked out of the kitchen. Fergie sat by my side, looking from me to the bowl.

  “Go on, girl.” She went over and began eating the eggs.

  I sat there a little while longer listening to the iPod. I stood up and walked over to it. Jesse had named this playlist “Mom’s shuffle.” The song was Making up is Hard to Do and I took it as a message I needed to go with Jesse to make it up to her. I knew she was trying. I, at least, could not be mean to her.

  I headed up the stairs, Fergie in tow, showered, ruffled through the boxes of my clothes, found jeans and a hoodie and got dressed. It had been awhile since I put on clothes that were not sweatpants.

  It was one step toward being normal.

  I met Jesse at the door.

  “Glad you’re coming,” was all she said as she walked out the door. Fergie watched us through the window, and I imagine went to lay down in the warmest spot she could find in the house.

  We drove into town listening to the radio. Even if the awkwardness wasn’t still hanging between us, I’m not sure we had much to talk about anyway. We hadn’t really done anything but work, pack and put on a funeral. Not much for conversation.

  She pulled up to the CVS and ran in quickly to grab some vitamins. She pulled up to the post office and made me run in some letters to mail. I scanned them quickly. One of them was to our Aunt Marie, a few looked like bills and one was to Aiden’s parents. Aiden could be a topic to talk about, but I already had made her angry today.

  We pull into my new high school, Lincoln High, home of the Blue Devils. Jesse had already informed me it was smaller than my last school. It didn’t really matter though. In a year and a half, I would be gone from this place.

  The woman, who greeted us at the main office, was nice enough. She handed me a schedule of what I’d be taking and they were all the same classes I had been taking.

  “Ma’am, do you think it would be possible, to take Drawing off my schedule?”

  The secretary started to tell me yes, but Jesse interrupted. “It stays on her schedule.”

  The secretary didn’t know what she was supposed to say, so I said, “Fine. I’ll just drop the class tomorrow when I get here.”

  The principal came out of his office, a man named Mr. Hale. At first, my eyes go wide, because the man had to be over six feet. He’s an older guy in his 50’s, robust, and looked like he could throw a student across the room if he wanted to. But my moment of thinking he was the terminator passed quickly when his deep voice rumbled, “And who are you two young ladies?” His smile was welcoming.

  The secretary introduced us. He shook both of our hands. “We were hoping we might be able to see where Kate’s classes are for tomorrow,” Jesse stated.

  “I have a moment,” Mr. Hale started, “I’ll show you.” He ushered us out into the hallway and led me to my first class, American History. Mr. Hale talked about organizations and sports offered at the school. He mentioned some things about t
he student handbook. He asked what I was interested in, where we were from and what brought us to the area.

  Jesse and I had been answering and asking questions the whole time; he was a really nice guy for a principal, but it was the last question that brought us up short. He gave us a patient look, and I got the inkling he already knew the reason.

  “Our parents passed, I got offered a new job and it was time for a change,” was all Jesse said. She looked away from him, ending the questioning. Mr. Hale gave me a warm smile, and I shrugged my shoulders. I wanted to grumble that Jesse wanted the change and I didn’t, but that would make awkward question only more awkward.

  At the end of our tour, Mr. Hale told me his door was always open, and I actually thought he meant it. We climbed into the car and drove home in silence again.

  Fergie was waiting, greeted us and headed toward the back door to be let out, have the ball thrown and then curl up at my feet when we’d come back in to get warm.

  Later, as I sat among boxes in my new room, Fergie paced between Jesse’s room and mine. She sat at my door, glancing between our rooms. She got up, and I stood up to see she was sitting in Jesse’s doorway glancing back down to me.

  I walked down to her outside Jesse’s room.

  “Do you have treats in your room and that’s why she won’t leave you alone?” I honestly asked because Fergie really never left my side if I wasn’t in the house, and she couldn’t seem to make up her mind about who she should be with more right now.

  “No, I just think she’s perspective. Huh, girl?” Fergie padded into Jesse’s room, head butted her leg and laid down, half way between us.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “Just what I said,” she said back nonchalantly.

  “Stop being vague. Come on, Fergie,” I commanded. Fergie looked back and forth between us, stood up and followed me out. “Know it all,” I mumbled as I walked out of the room. I heard her throw the sweatshirt she was holding on to the ground and heard her stalk after me.

  “Know it all? You little brat,” she hissed at me. “You ungrateful brat. You think I wanted this?” she screamed at me. It’s the first time she hasn’t let me get away with it. “Do you think I wanted to be 24 years old with no parents and an ungrateful, depressed sister? Do you think I want to be expecting my first child like this?” She waved her arms around, letting me know she wasn’t thrilled about being in the Middle of Nowhere. Wait. First child?

  “You’re pregnant?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I am. And the only two things in my life going right are my job and your dog. The dog is the only one in my life who seems to be concerned about me, because you sure aren’t. I know you are having a really hard time with the death of our parents, but guess what Kate? I lost my parents too!” She stared hard into my face. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I’d been slapped.

  She wheeled around and slammed her bedroom door.

  Fergie sat on my feet and looked up at me.

  “I made a bad situation worse, didn’t I?”

  She rubbed her head against my legs.

  I moved to Jesse’s door and said through the wood, “Jesse –Jesse, I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  She didn’t come out of her room all day until it was time for her to go to work on the night shift. I heard slamming things in the kitchen and Fergie whined at the door. “Go check on her,” and she ran to the kitchen. The slamming stopped and I trudged down to the kitchen, knowing I needed to apologize, knowing I needed to ask her about the baby. I took my last step off the stairs and heard Jesse crying in the kitchen. I hurried in to comfort her, but I didn’t have to. Jesse was on her knees, hugging Fergie around the neck, Fergie was nuzzling Jesse’s head, comforting my sister.

  I walked silently, backwards, out of the kitchen and sat in the living room. Minutes passed, and I heard Jesse leave through the garage. Fergie came into the living room and sat in front of me. She gave me a look, or at least I felt she was reprimanding me for being mean to my sister.

  I reached for my cell phone and shot Jesse a text. I told her I was sorry and I was really happy she was pregnant. I sent her a second one telling her that I was going to give this place a try.

  I didn’t expect her to reply and being a nurse she knew the trouble texting could cause while driving, but I was hopeful she would text me back when she got to the hospital.

  Her reply came 15 minutes later telling me, she understood it was tough and promised we would make it through this.

  I wasn’t sure if I believed her yet, but for her, for the new baby and for Fergie, I was going to try and be more like how I was before Mom and Dad died. I did believe they would want that.

  Walking into a new school, let alone a new high school mid–year was like walking into a firing squad of princesses, jocks, nerds, the in–betweens and misfit toys. They all sized you up based on your clothing, your hair, your face, what you said in class, what groups you joined and where you sat in lunch.

  I saw Mr. Hale when I first walked into the building. He was greeting students by name, shaking hands with the boys and asking questions to certain students about sports and classes. The students all smiled and responded. He saw me, gave me a reassuring smile and told me it was going to be a great day. Again, I almost believed him until I stepped into American History.

  The teacher Mr. Rohlin, thank God, didn’t make me introduce myself, but told me to take a seat. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. As more continued to file in, they all stared too.

  Ready, aim, fire.

  I thought about Jesse and my promise to give this place a try. I had to go home and tell her it was an OK day. She would know I was lying if I said it was fantastic. I had to show her I was going to try.

  Next, I thought of Mom in her gallery, gliding about the room, offering everyone she made eye contact with a bright smile, and then I saw Dad. His shoulders were always pulled back, his back never hunched, always exuding confidence.

  I sat up straight, and when I made eye contact with someone, I didn’t give them a bright smile, but I would smile. I got a few smiles back, a few who averted their eyes because they got caught looking at me and a few who just openly stared at me. They all looked normal, my new classmates, but I clearly was the newest attraction in this school. My teacher, well, he looked like a teacher. Dress shirt, tall, a warm smile, brown hair and marker stained hands.

  Chemistry began, and I found I was a step ahead of them, so the day’s content was a review, which was a good thing, because chemistry was not my strong suit. I didn’t get how it connected to the world and honestly, I didn’t care. Tell me the formula. Tell me if there was a trick to remembering. Let me study and memorize. I’d take the test and then I’d do the same thing for the next unit.

  I focused on the teacher and hoped the rest of the day went as smoothly as this hour. When class was over, I stood up and a girl around my height approached me. She had blond hair and a nice smile.

  “New, huh?”

  “I’m that obvious huh?”

  “Nope, we’re that small.”

  “Ah–”

  She walked with me out of class. “Where’s your next class?”

  I fumbled with my schedule. “Its–, uh, English 11. Mrs. Stacy.”

  “Me too. Come on, I’ll walk you there. I’m Elise, by the way.”

  “Kate.”

  “Well, Kate, welcome to Lincoln.”

  In Mrs. Stacy’s class, we took a seat in the middle and to the left. They were half way through The Crucible and since I had never read it or seen the movie, I would have to catch up quickly. Kate told me the reading wasn’t hard, but the connection to the McCarthy Trials and the Salem Witch Trials and then the drama between the characters would be my “occupier” as she put it.

  “You can borrow my notes.” Mrs. Stacy nodded approvingly at this gesture of Elise’s. I grabbed the notes and was about to shove them into my folder when Elise tapped the front of her notes.
“Colton Wright keeps checkin' u out.” I read it twice, and looked at her, not knowing who Colton Wright was. She read the confused look on my face and used her pen to point directly to him.

  I glanced as casually as I could down the row, and there were, in fact, two guys looking at me. The one quickly looked away, but the guy with blond hair, stared back with a shy smile, a head nod and finally looked away.

  I looked back at Elise to get confirmation the blond guy was Colton. She nodded. I caught him two more times looking at me. I hadn’t gotten a really good look at him because I didn’t want to be caught looking. He was good–looking, not my definition of hot, but I liked the shy smile he gave me, and it seemed he was tall, but I would have to wait until he stood up to discover that.

  He stood. Definitely tall. Definitely not skinny either, but not a muscle head. He got out of his row, walking to the front of the class before we did, gave me another shy smile, a head nod and walked by.

  Elise looked back at me.

  “Now that is some open interest. Careful though.”

  “What? He likes all the new girls?”

  “No,” she laughed. “His girlfriend doesn’t like the new girls.”

  “Got it,” I said. Of course he would be dating a girl. Of course she would be a bitch. And if on cue, Colton draped his arm around petite strawberry blond girl in a cheerleading outfit. Of course she would be a cheerleader. My interest in Colton Wright waned fast.

  Elise walked me to my next class, Spanish 3, and said she would save me a seat at lunch. She told me someone would take me to my fifth period class. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I knew where my classes were. She was being awfully nice to me and I now had someone to sit with in lunch. Elise was looking like my first friend here at Lincoln.

  Spanish 3 came and went. I didn’t think it would be that bad. I actually thought I was ahead in this class and my teacher didn’t seem as fluent. More stares, mixed with a few more nice people. Elise met me outside the cafeteria to lead me to sit with a group of girls who introduced themselves as Lisa, Emily, and Kenzie. They asked where I was from, what I liked to do, how my first day was so far. They talked to each other about stuff I had no idea about.