by Janette Oke
“Brett is going through a tough time right now. Maybe it’s best that he has a bit of space. At any rate, it might only make him more …” Mom hesitated, probably searching for a word that would describe Brett’s attitude without branding him a rebel. “ … more upset,” she finally continued, “if we put pressure on him to come back right now. He’s having a difficult time growing up and dealing with a sick sister—all at once.”
“But his friends,” I interrupted. “He sure hasn’t picked …” I choose a different tack. “They aren’t that good for him. They might—”
Mom stopped me. Her shoulders fell, then lifted, but when she looked up she looked assured, even though fresh tears glistened in the corners of her eyes.
“Erin … there comes a time when as parents we have done all we can do. The Bible says to train up a child in the way he should go. We’ve done that … to the best of our ability. God knows that. Now … now we have to trust. Just trust. We don’t like what is happening in Brett’s life right now, but we can’t force him to make good choices. We can just continue to pray that he will know how much we love him … how much God loves him and … and decide … to make the right choices himself. We need to have faith. In God. In our teaching. And in our son.”
Dad reached out and clasped Mom’s hand. “Brett’s a good kid at heart. He has so many qualities we’re proud of. And remember, he still has much of God’s Word hidden in his heart, Erin. That’s powerful stuff. And, as your mother said, God still loves him. Satan hasn’t won yet. Not by a long way.”
I think, by their words, they were encouraging each other. Mom sort of leaned up against Dad’s shoulder and even managed a bit of a smile. I just shook my head. I guess at the moment I would have been happy to see Brett suffer a bit. That wasn’t the way they seemed to feel. Way down deep inside I guess I felt good about it. Unconditional love was something to really hang on to.
Chapter Sixteen
With Dana at home again, the only time I could really forget her suffering and just be a teenager was at school. And as classes began, I threw myself into my studies. It was a chance to get out of the house and feel alive. My grades soared, and I became more involved in other activities besides basketball. Now that I knew many of my classmates well, it was easy to make arrangements for someone else to stop by and pick me up for school events. It made me feel independent and in control. Things that I hadn’t felt for a very long time. And Corey was back in Mom’s care. That gave me mixed feelings because, in addition to this energetic third grader, she had Dana to nurse. But I tried hard to set those feelings aside. I was more and more repelled by the morbidity that seemed to hang over our home, and I had twinges of guilt for leaving Corey there.
One of my ninth-grade teachers took me aside one day and suggested that I get involved in the school newspaper. He said I might even try running for an office in our student government. He had nice things to say about my being a leader. I liked that. It was great to be looked at as special in some way.
But near the end of September, Dana went back to the cancer center due to more complications she’d experienced, and I let the whole idea of student government go. I let all the other extra things go too. How could I be a leader at school when I never knew when I’d be needed at home to help with Corey, or keep up with laundry, or cook our meals, or other responsibilities? With Mom gone and Grandma not there, I knew enough not to bother to ask if I could be absent as well.
Basketball, though, was something I couldn’t possibly give up. The season started again, and Graham came to all the games. I guess I was more conscious of the fact that he was there than I would have liked to be. Occasionally I could hear his voice over the noise of the crowd, cheering me on. Sometimes, if the game didn’t go too late, we went out for a Coke with a group of other kids before I caught my ride home. It sort of made up for the fact that Dad and Mom were hardly ever able to be there. I didn’t miss them nearly as much anymore. Maybe I had just gotten used to it.
The team had a special meeting after one of our practices, and the school principal came down to talk to us. We couldn’t believe what he had to say. Since our junior varsity team had been doing so well, the school had decided to enter us in an out-of-state tournament in two months’ time. We would all be required to have our own spending money for meals and snacks and whatever else. The school would pay for transportation and lodging.
We were ecstatic. Never had we dreamed of such an opportunity. But even as we celebrated, I knew I’d never be able to ask Dad for the money. With everything that was going on with Dana, there would never be money for a basketball tournament. For a moment I felt really down … and angry. Too much was disappearing in my life. Too many things I’d had to give up.
And then a new idea dawned on me. I’d earn my own way. Surely Mom and Dad couldn’t object to that. I’d take babysitting jobs, and I’d save every penny and still be able to go on that trip. At least it was something to look forward to.
But it was more difficult to manage both school and work than I had thought. True, Brett had managed a job, but he’d made little effort to keep up his grades. I wouldn’t allow myself the same casual attitude. But it wasn’t to be worked out easily. I couldn’t begin my class assignments until after my charges were settled for the night, so many nights I found myself still up at midnight completing homework assignments.
The extra advantage of work was that it kept me away from home even more. Many nights when I was dropped off after sitting, I dreaded opening the door and going inside. I didn’t want to hear the report of Dana’s problems as relayed by Dad, and I didn’t want to see Mom ragged and tired. The sleepless nights that Dana and Mom spent together were far enough away that it didn’t waken the rest of us. I hated to admit such selfishness, but I had grown weary of all the nighttime noises and bustle.
I was aware, too, that I had become very distant. Dana was behind closed doors now, and it was far easier to shut her out of my life. True, I still, though at times reluctantly, gave up many of the privileges I could have experienced if she hadn’t been ill, but that was no reason to withdraw from her. She was my sister, so I tried to visit her at least once a day when she was home, but I just couldn’t bring myself to ask about how she was feeling.
Instead, I talked about school and games—even Graham. She asked a steady stream of questions when she was feeling well enough to talk with me, and I hoped it wasn’t dreadfully wrong to be so self-centered in our conversations. It had become easier and easier for me to cover up my true feelings—the conflicted, desperate ones—and pretend that I was happy. The truth was, I cried often when I was alone in my bedroom.
I hated the feeling of being deceitful, but it seemed to be the only merciful thing to do. I couldn’t be honest. That would only cause everyone more pain. So I feigned cheerfulness and helped out whenever I could. That made me feel a little better. But I wondered if Brett’s road to decline had started out in the same way that I was allowing myself to go—bending the truth by pretending, and shutting out my family.
During the winter months Dana had begun to look far worse than she ever had before. Though I tried not to absorb the details of her situation, I did realize that her medical problems had escalated. She was experiencing almost constant fevers, sores, and nausea. She had also developed a horrid lung infection. I could hear her rattling cough from downstairs throughout the night, and I pressed my pillow over my head in an attempt to block it out. It never seemed to bother Corey—he slept soundly—at least he never came into my room during the night.
My meager bank account began to grow. I scrimped on all my expenditures, saving every little bit I could toward the trip with the basketball team. If only I would be able to save enough.
One night, long after he had been put to bed, Corey appeared at my elbow as I sat doing homework at the kitchen table. I passed him some of the potato chips I’d been eating and chided him gently for getting up.
“I couldn’t sleep. I just got thinking.”
I stood to get him a glass of water, and he followed me to the sink. “What were you thinking about?” I asked.
“Misty told my class that her grandma got cancer. I wish she didn’t. It made me feel really bad for her.”
“We know about cancer. Don’t we, Corey?”
He nodded, not looking up. A moment passed and then he spoke again. “Is Dana gonna die?”
The glass I was holding slipped into the sink and shattered. I left it where it lay and dropped down to eye level with Corey. “Why would you ask that?” My words sounded harsher than I had intended.
“Misty said her grandma is dying.”
I swallowed the lump that was rising in my throat. “She probably has a different kind of cancer. I don’t think it could be like Dana’s.” Tears were already welling in my eyes. It must have been obvious even to Corey that my words were shallow and empty.
“But she’s sicker this time. I hear her. She coughs a lot. And she doesn’t breathe good. I think she might be dying too.” There were tears running down his cheeks.
I pulled him close and held him as tightly as I dared. All my thoughts were churning, wondering when it would ever end. How much longer would we have to face this disease? How many more of our growing-up years would be spoiled?
At last he pushed away from me. “Can I sit with you, Erin? I’ll be real quiet.”
“Of course. You can even get your pillow and a blanket, and I’ll move my books into the living room. Then you can lie on the sofa. Okay?”
He nodded and headed back to his room. I was numb as I turned to clean up the broken glass from the sink.
My parents were visibly pleased when I finally had enough money for the trip. Dad even slipped me a ten—“a little something extra.” Our team had continued to have a winning season, and we seemed primed to sweep the finals. This invitational tournament would arrive just before we headed to the last games, and our coach had lectured us over and over again on the importance of taking it seriously, even though it wouldn’t count for or against us on the season’s record. Psychologically, he insisted, it was important that we win.
We were also told that we were to get extra sleep during the week before the tournament. I tried, but between my studies and my jobs, I found myself coming up short. On Thursday night, the last night before we were to leave, I had finally been able to get to bed early. I was hoping to make up for the time I’d lost during the week. Dana had been doing better. Mom was even back in her own bed, attempting to get some much needed rest.
In the middle of the night, I was startled awake. There had been a noise. A sound that had registered to my unconscious mind as being wrong—terribly wrong. I rushed to the door and pulled it open, searching the hallway in one direction and then another. But there was no one there. By now my adrenaline was pumping. I was certain I’d heard a sound. I moved softly toward the stairs.
Then I heard the sound again. It had come from below—from Dana’s rooms. Without pausing to wonder further, I called out to Dad and Mom and raced down the carpeted steps. For some reason, I knew without a doubt there was a problem. And I was afraid.
She was there, seated on the bathroom floor of the little suite, her arm bent at an odd angle and tucked against her. Her face was contorted in pain. I dropped down beside her and called to Dad again. He appeared in the doorway.
“What happened? Erin, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Dana’s arm. It’s bent wrong. I think it’s broken. She must have fallen—but she won’t talk to me.”
Dad squeezed past me and bent down where he could see for himself. Dana still couldn’t answer us. Her pain was too great. But we could both see clearly that her arm had been badly injured.
Mom arrived and then Corey. I stepped out of their way and back into the bedroom, trying to draw Corey away from the scene. Then Dad shouted out to me that I should call the ambulance, so I grabbed Corey’s hand and dragged him along.
“My name is Erin Walsh. I live at 1441 Walnut Lane. My sister fell in the bathroom and broke her arm. Please hurry.”
The emergency operator did not understand. “Are your parents home with you?”
“Yes, they’re with Dana, but they need help.”
“Are they able to drive her to a medical clinic?”
“No. Please! You’ve got to send an ambulance. My sister has cancer—leukemia. She’s very sick. You need to send someone right away. She doesn’t even breathe well—and now with her arm, I’m not sure—”
The woman on the phone cut me off. “We’ll send someone right away. I’m already sending the call through our system. Try to calm down so you can talk to me. Can you repeat your address please?”
I was grateful to hear that they’d come. “1441 Walnut Lane.” I said it as slowly and clearly as my labored breathing would allow. “It’s the house right at the end. You can’t see it through the trees. Just follow the paved driveway. I can even stand on the road if you think it would help.”
“No. No, wait in the house with your parents. What was your name again?”
“My name is Erin.”
“Erin, how old are you, dear?”
“I’m fourteen.”
“Listen carefully. Don’t hang up the phone, but go to your parents and ask them if your sister is breathing okay. If she is, then have them check the skin around the break to see if the bone came through, and make sure they cover her so that she doesn’t get chilled. Can you do all that?”
“Yes.” I dropped the phone on the counter and charged back into Dana’s rooms.
After repeating the instructions to Mom and Dad, I ran back and picked up the receiver. “She’s breathing okay. She’s been having trouble with a lung infection, but she’s breathing pretty good right now. The skin isn’t broken. But the arm … her arm is bent in the middle of the bone, and it’s just hanging there.”
“How is she handling the pain? Is she calm?” The voice remained so controlled it was eerie.
I struggled to speak without gasping. “I think so. But they can’t get her to say anything. She’s just staring now.”
“Okay, Erin. She might be going into shock. Is she sitting down?”
“Yes. She’s on the bathroom floor. Oh, please hurry.”
“They’re on the way. They’ve already left for your house. Listen. Make sure she’s covered well. And if they can lay her down without moving the arm much, tell them to do it now.”
I ran back and delivered the additional instructions. Daddy had already laid Dana back, and Mom ran to grab the comforter off Dana’s bed. Dana’s face was deathly white. I scurried back to the phone.
“She’s lying down. But her face is white, and Daddy says her hands are cold.” My throat was tightening, and I could feel sobs shaking my voice.
“Okay, you covered her well?”
“Yes. Yes!”
“Erin, dear. Listen. I need to ask you some more questions. Listen to me. Can you listen?”
“Yes.” I looked toward Corey. He was crouched on the kitchen floor clutching Max.
“How old is your sister?”
I couldn’t see why she needed to know that. Or the numerous other questions that followed, but I answered each as best I could. Then, at last, I heard the sound of a siren approaching.
“They’re here!”
“Okay, honey. You hear them coming?”
“Yes! Yes. They’re pulling into the driveway. I’ve got to go let them in.” I didn’t even stop to hear her answer. I dropped the phone and rushed to open the front door. “Through the kitchen—to the right—in the bathroom.”
Max began barking. A fearsome, growling bark. I grabbed for her collar as three men hurried past us and into Dana’s suite. The lights on the ambulance were still flashing. It made the living room pulse with a reddish glow. We could hear them questioning Dad; then two of them came back and headed out to their vehicle.
“Max! Hush.”
Corey was crying, and the dog was still barking. I moved
them both to the sofa and pulled them up beside me. “Hush!”
The two men came back, carrying a stretcher between them. In no time they had Dana strapped in and were speeding away from the house. Dad and Mom had gone upstairs to their room and were scrambling around. I could hear their footsteps and the sound of drawers opening and closing. They were dressing. They would be following Dana.
At last, Max fell silent.
Mom flew past. “Erin, can you watch Corey? We’ll call as soon as we know anything.”
“Okay.”
Dad stopped to hug me—hard—and then hurried to follow Mom to the car. Corey and I were left alone, and neither of us wanted to go back upstairs. Not alone. Not after what had just happened. The house had a sinister silence.
Instead, we curled up on the couch together and turned on the television. Corey fell asleep quickly. I threw the afghan over him, then stared at the screen in silence.
At three o’clock in the morning we finally received a call from Mom and Dad. Dana had been going into shock, but the ambulance drivers had managed to get her through it. Mom and Dad were waiting for the doctor to arrive for further word. They would call again later.
I didn’t wait for any more news. I dialed the number for my school and then my coach’s extension number. I left a message on his answering machine. I wouldn’t be on the bus that was to leave at 6:30 sharp. I wouldn’t be able to make it to the tournament. Then I hung up the phone and cried until I fell asleep, lying on the floor beside Corey. The television was still droning on in the corner when I woke in the morning.
A while later Dad came home to gather a few clothes and to shower. I hadn’t bothered to get Corey and myself dressed and off to school, but he didn’t scold me for it. He just answered our questions and then headed back out, taking a change of clothes for Mom too. He had said that with the injury, Dana probably would be in the hospital for a lengthy stay.
I wondered, as the door closed behind him, if he would ever remember what the night’s events had cost me. My team would play without me, and all the special memories that could have been mine were forever lost. The endless hours of babysitting and the late nights studying no longer mattered.