Inherited Light

by Katie Mettner

  She cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean she was so weak she couldn’t get out of bed. She had used all her energy to get home and had nothing left. I got her water, but she threw it up and there was blood everywhere. I was scared, but her fear washed over mine and forced my feet to run to Maḿa sobbing about how she would die if we didn’t take her to the hospital. Maḿa ran into Cinn’s room and witnessed her daughter vomiting blood. She called 911 and after extensive testing they diagnosed her, and saved her.”

  “Or you saved her, because you trusted your gift.”

  I shrugged. “No, I think once Maḿa checked on her in the morning she would have hit the panic button even without me.”

  “There you go again, not giving yourself any credit,” she said, giving me half a smile.

  “My intervention in Cinn’s illness only tells half the story, Cat. All those months earlier, when I had pain at school and didn’t know why, was the first time Cinn started to feel poorly. She pushed it and pushed it so she could keep playing, but eventually her body failed and they sent her home. I think they should have put her in a hospital and called us, but things were different then. Anyway, Cinn ended up in the hospital for weeks and I didn’t want to leave her side.”

  “Why? Were you afraid of losing her?”

  I shook my head. “No, I knew by then she would be okay once the treatment kicked in. I sat by her bed to reassure myself I would know instantly if there was a problem. There came a day when I alerted the nurses to a problem with her feeding tube before it turned into a big problem. After that incident, you couldn’t get me to leave her bedside.”

  She frowned. “I’m sure it wasn’t good for you though, Ren. Mentally or physically.”

  I laughed sadly and squeezed her hand. “No, it became almost obsessive compulsive and my parents were concerned. They didn’t know about my gift. Only it didn’t feel like a gift; it felt like a curse. They asked one of the hospital counselors to spend time with me while Cinn was at therapy. They called themselves a child life specialist and used play to get kids to let their feelings out.” She nodded and her eyes told me she had plenty of experience with them. “I didn’t know how to talk about it, but as you’ve seen I’m creative and like to draw and build things. As I created a world with Legos I detached myself from all the anguish inside me and it all poured out. The therapist didn’t seem shocked or act horrified by the things I told her, which is what I feared the most. I was afraid people would think I had some kind of freakish power or I was a monster.”

  “No, Ren. It’s not like that,” she said soothingly.

  I ran my hand down her face and squirmed to get more comfortable on the bed. “No, it’s not, not now, but then I didn’t have the maturity to see it. I spent a lot of time with the counselor over the next few days and she finally asked me if my parents could come in while we played. I told her only my mamá.”

  “Because your mamá is Hispanic and comes from a part of South America where psychic gifts aren’t considered a bad or weird thing,” she answered.

  “Gosh, you sound like you have experience with this,” I teased and finally got a solid laugh out of her.

  “My aunt, not the one who lived here, but the one who died before my mom, was a psychic.”

  I smacked myself in the forehead. “Ahhh, now it makes sense why you don’t think I’m crazy. Of course,” I said slowly.

  She grinned and I leaned down and kissed her. “Sorry, your lips tease me when you grin.” I winked and she blushed, which told me her fever had broken as we talked. “Mamá sat down with us and we talked about special gifts people have, like Cinn being gifted in music. She told me her own mother had many spiritual gifts and it didn’t surprise her to know her own kids did, too. I didn’t know at the time Tabitha had psychic abilities. I didn’t know her well since she didn’t live at home.”

  “Did you finally manage to leave Cinn’s bedside and get on with your life?” she asked, her demeanor slowly sinking as we approached the hour where we would talk about her again.

  “I did, on both accounts. I learned how to handle the gift. If I had a feeling someone needed help, I made up some kind of story about why we should check on them.”

  “Were you ever wrong?” she asked curiously.

  “Nope, not once. When I hit my teenage years, I forced the intuition to reside in a hidden box in the back of my very dusty brain closet. I refused to be considered the geek or the nerd of the group. I wanted to be like any other 16-year-old red blooded male, but it didn’t work out the best for me.”

  “Another Cinn incident?” she asked.

  “No, I allowed the gift free rein with Cinn. I didn’t have much say in the matter. She’s the one person who I have almost a telepathic connection with, well, she was the one person. Now there are two,” I said, rubbing her arm. She turned away, which told me she wasn’t ready to admit her love for me, yet. “Anyway, the incident happened when I started my senior year. A group of us guys were driving to see the San Diego Chargers at the stadium. There were two trucks of guys and we live a good long way from San Diego, so we decided to break the drive up into two days. We stayed in a cabin in the woods and planned to have a little fun with a campfire and cookout. After dinner, we started the fire, ready to tell some ghost stories and act like fools. To my surprise, a couple of guys had managed to buy some beer illegally, since we weren’t legal yet, and snuck it into the truck. It made me uncomfortable. I didn’t want to get caught up in a situation where booze was involved, even if I didn’t drink it. I had a scholarship waiting and getting an underage drinking citation would cost me. When the guys wouldn’t stop razzing me about it I got mad, stomped into the cabin, and fell into bed. Sometime after three I woke up freezing, but not the kind of cold a blanket would fix. If I had to explain it, I would say there was ice water running through my veins. My first thought was maybe I had come down with something, but I didn’t feel bad otherwise. I got up and stumbled outside to see if I could warm up by the fire. I hadn’t gone fifty yards past the cabin when someone started yelling. I had no idea what direction it had come from, so I yelled back. The closer I got to the person yelling, the colder I became. If I strayed too far away I started to warm up,” I explained.

  She shook her finger. “I think it’s the other way around. You know, you’re hot when you’re close to something and you’re cold when you’re not.”

  I held out my hands as if to say, ‘I know, right?’ “If the feeling hadn’t been all consuming I might have laughed it off and gone back to sleep, but even though the gift had been locked up, my brain could still find the key when needed and let little parts of it out. It didn’t happen often, so I willingly followed it. When I finally found the guy yelling, I realized it was to save a life. The ringleader of our group had hold of a long dead branch from a tree. At the other end hung his best friend desperately trying to get back to shore and out of the cold water. It took both of us fighting the current to get him out. We dragged him back to the cabin and started a fire, forcing him to sit in front of it with nothing but a blanket on until his lips had turned pink again and he could feel his toes.”

  “What were they doing in the woods late at night after drinking?” she asked and I chewed my lip some more.

  “They were making out,” I answered and her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “It turns out they weren’t just best friends, but none of us were the wiser. We didn’t have a problem with it mind you, but I guess they kept it hidden for their own reasons. They were sitting on the riverbank and Maverick slipped off a leaf covered rock and fell into the river. The story ends well as they got married a year or so ago.”

  “Wow, all because you trusted your gift, searched, and found them.”

  “I learned more from those few hours than everyone else combined, I’m sure. Why do you think the lumberyard gave me such a good deal on the lumber for your ramp?” I asked jokingly and she gasped.

  “You mean he’s one ha
lf of the couple?”

  I nodded. “Dane happened to be the one holding onto the stick and screaming for someone to help him. I attended their wedding when they got married at a cabin in the woods. Only the three of us understood the significance of it, but we were the only three who needed to.”

  “Wow, what a story,” she whispered, rolling to her right side a little bit. “Was it a turning point? Did it teach you to start letting the gift out of the box a little bit more?”

  “No, I stopped putting it in the box at all. I learned how to assimilate it into my day-to-day life. I taught myself how to hone in on it when there was danger or if someone I loved had a problem. The past few years I’ve given it a bit more leeway, but I’ve never been terribly worked up unless Cinn had a problem. The day you showed up in my life it changed again. Now it goes off when you have a problem.”

  She cleared her throat. “Really? Would you explain?”

  “I don’t think it requires an explanation, Cat. I can feel the same emotions someone I love is feeling. For instance, the other night when I woke up after being conked on the head. The reason I was out of my mind frantic was I could feel your fear, anxiety, and pain. It rolled over me in waves and I had to concentrate on breathing. I was petrified and my only thought was to protect you. Today, I was exhausted and my body ached. I attributed it at first to the long week and the head injury, but by four, I stopped working long enough to concentrate. Then it became clear you had a problem, which is why I locked up and left as soon as the plumber finished. When Foster wanted me to take you home, I argued with him. I wasn’t arguing because I didn’t trust him. I argued because I could feel how poorly the woman I loved felt. The feeling overwhelmed me and I wanted you at a hospital.”

  She squeezed my hand. “I'm okay.”

  “I’m trying to believe it,” I whispered, smiling a little bit.

  “You love me?” she asked, her voice shaking.

  “I do. I love you,” I said honestly.

  She shook her head in frustration. “You can’t love me, Ren. I can’t allow you to throw your life away on a woman like me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I forced myself to calmly set the cup in the microwave and turn it on. I took a tea bag from the box and stood flicking it absently while I waited for the water to heat. She made me leave her room, but if she thinks I can't hear her crying she's not only ill, she's delusional. Usually when you tell a woman you love them they don't cry and kick you out, especially when you know beyond a shadow of a doubt they love you, too. I lifted the mug out of the small microwave and dunked the bag in a few times. I still don’t know why she’s sick. Somehow, she managed to take the fact I have abilities and let it completely control the conversation for the last hour. It took the focus away from her and kept it on me, something she liked, but not something I would allow to continue. I gathered the tea and toast I made and carried it to the bedroom.

  She had curled up on her right side in an awkward way. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see whatever was going on had something to do with the left side of her belly. I set the plate and mug down on the table by the bed and pulled a chair up next to her.

  "I made you something to eat. If you don't want to eat you should at least drink the tea."

  She wiped her eyes, rolled over, and accepted the cup from me, sipping the lemon tea. "It's good, thank you."

  I rubbed away a few more tears which fell even as she drank the tea. I had to play this cool. If I pushed her too far she would clam up completely and I would never find out why she didn't feel well.

  "I'm confused about what’s going on, honey. Your tears are breaking my heart. I didn’t think saying I love you would make you cry," I said, swiping the hair from her face.

  She lowered the cup. “You say you love me, but I know it can’t last. The tears fall when I know I’m going to lose another chance at a normal life. I can’t do this anymore, Ren. I can’t.”

  She was shaking and the tea sloshed over the rim of the cup as I took it from her hand. I wiped off the hot liquid and kissed the spot, then held her hand against my chest, using my other hand to rest on her chest. She was crying again and her whole body was wracked with a jumble of anger, pain, and sadness. I leaned over, pulling her to me and kissing her temple.

  “You’re not going to lose me, sweetheart,” I whispered. “I’m not like all the other guys before me. Haven’t I proven myself to you by now? All I want to do is understand what you’re dealing with. I want to make your life a little bit easier for you, but I can’t if I don’t know how.”

  I released her, lowering her back to the bed until she rested on the pillow again. She wiped her eyes, but held my gaze. “What time is it?"

  I checked the clock by her bed. "Almost seven. Why?"

  Her shoulders sank and she motioned at her chair. "I have to go to the bathroom. I guess now is a good time to clear up your confusion about my physical and emotional reactions."

  I grabbed the frog leg of her chair and tugged it over, locking the brakes so it didn't slide away. She struggled to sit up, but the pain must have been too much and she sank back into the mattress.

  "Here, let me help," I said, holding the button down to raise the head of the bed until she was almost upright. I gave her my hand and she hoisted herself up to a sitting position, still splinting the left side a little bit. "I'm not sure you're going to be able to sit in the chair straight up and down."

  She gritted her teeth together. "I can do it, if you can help me swing into it."

  I helped her in a very awkward movement of me lifting and her pushing herself off the bed. She weighed nothing, and I could have carried her, but I would have to do this her way if I wanted to understand her situation. She did let me push her to the bathroom and once she was in the room I turned to leave.

  "You should stay and everything will be clear for you."

  I forced my expression to stay neutral when she asked me to get her a washrag and an alcohol swab. I did what she asked, and held them while she lifted her shirt. There was a tube taped to her abdomen.

  "The reason I'm running a fever," she explained, "is because the skin around my catheter must have gotten infected at the hospital the other night. I noticed it was sore, but wrote it off as being from the fall. Today, when I showed Foster, he cleaned it and stopped the bleeding of the raw tissue underneath, which is all the hospital would have done."

  She took the washrag and alcohol pad from my hand and set them on her leg, then took a small syringe from a basket near the toilet. She held up the alcohol pad. "I use this to clean the valve insertion site so I don't introduce bacteria into the tube. Some people say it isn't necessary, but it's a simple way to make sure I don't get sick."

  I nodded acknowledgement as she worked, rather than speak and break whatever blessed spell kept her talking.

  “Some people use a bag for their catheter, but I use a valve, it makes it easy to keep one in my purse for when I'm at the gallery or out on the town. I need to empty the catheter every three to four hours except at night. Sometimes, if I'm particularly tired or I'm sick, I will hang the night bag on the bed and connect it through the port, but usually I empty before bed and immediately when I get up and have no problems. Sometimes though, if the bladder gets too full it could leak out during the night and make a mess."

  "Leak around the tube?" I asked.

  She lowered her pants enough to clear the tube the rest of the way. I noticed the catheter wasn't in her urethra but coming out of her abdomen much like Cinn's feeding tube does. It sat lower though and had a longer tube versus Cinn’s small button.

  "No, this isn't the kind of catheter you're thinking of. It’s called a suprapubic tube catheter and goes directly into my bladder. Unlike an indwelling catheter this allows me freedom to live my life with less infections and no urine bag attached to my leg."

  She had the valve connected to the tube and rolled to the toilet, opening the bar on the side so she could come up alongside it. "All
I have to do is open the valve," she explained as she spoke, "and hold it over the toilet allowing the urine to drain from the bladder."

  "And you don't get infections with the tube catheter the way people do with the other kind?"

  She nodded since her hands were busy. "If you mean bladder infections then yes, that's the reason I have it. I also have it because I still have some sensation in my pelvic region. If I have a catheter draining continually the nerves in my bladder will slowly die, and I'll lose what little feeling I have."

  "If you can feel your bladder why do you need the catheter?" I asked.

  "Good question," she answered extremely clinically as she used the washrag to hold the valve once she closed it off. She threw the valve and the rag in a small basin. "I can feel pressure and pain. When my bladder is full I get a partial sensation of fullness. If I were to have an infection I would feel the pain before I drained the bladder and found blood. What I can't do anymore is control the muscles enough to empty the bladder without help. I could have done intermittent catheterization through the urethra every three or four hours, but since I’m in the community as a businessperson, I didn’t want to deal with it any longer than necessary because of infection and inconvenience. This type of catheter allows me the most freedom while still doing the job I can no longer do without help. It also allows me full freedom for sexual activity." She blushed, but pointed at the medicine cabinet. “Would you get one of those rolls of tape from there?"

  I took one down and handed it over, watching her struggle to cut the piece off with her teeth, but I left her to struggle, inherently knowing if I offered to help, she might decide to stop telling me about her illness. She finally got the piece off and carefully taped the tube flat against her abdomen, giving it a little bigger loop because I could see the skin around the tube was red and probably sore. She backed the chair up and rolled toward the sink, so I stepped away. She washed her hands carefully, under her nails for a full twenty seconds, then took a towel and dried her hands before she turned off the faucet with the towel. She opened a drawer with the towel and took out a glove, which she snapped on her right hand. Next, she took a tube of ointment and squeezed some on her finger.