by Stacie Ramey
“No. I’d miss you too much. Would be caught sneaking back to see you.”
She laughs, tears glistening in her eyelashes. I laugh too.
“How can you be pretty when you cry?”
She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, and that gets to me, how strong she is trying to be all the time. Steve said I should find someone who took care of me as much as I did them. I lean forward, put my hand under her chin, and bring her lips to mine.
We kiss for what seems like hours and seconds at the same time. I stop, and her face looks confused. “Does this mean we’re dating again?” I ask.
“Uh-huh,” she says, pulling me toward her this time.
“No more Marty?”
This time, she laughs. “There never was.”
We kiss some more, and then she pulls back. “The only question I have is how are you planning to sneak back in? That’s got to be way harder than sneaking out.”
And we both laugh, and that laugh makes everything feel a little better.
Chapter 26
Dad is here in the morning again, and I’m almost about to ask what’s up with that, but I’ve got bigger things to talk about. When I make it to the kitchen, he hands me a cup of coffee, and I say, “I’m not going to school today.”
He takes a drink of his coffee. “Why?”
“We need to talk.”
“Me and you?”
“Me, you, and Mom.”
I have to give Dad credit. He doesn’t balk, doesn’t flinch. Just stirs his coffee, places the spoon in the sink, and drinks. “I’ll tell her.”
I sit on the stool in the kitchen, drinking the coffee Dad poured me, wishing I didn’t have to do this next thing, but Emily’s right—I need to.
Mom and Livy enter the kitchen, Mom dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, Livy still in her pajamas, which makes me ask, “What’s up?”
Mom slides her arm around Livy’s shoulder. “We were thinking this would be a family day.”
Suddenly, my skin feels like it’s on fire. “Why?”
Mom says, “They’re sending a DCF person to speak with us today.”
“I know. Mr. Wexler told me.”
“So we thought we’d do it together,” Dad says.
No wonder he was so calm about what I said—he already knew.
The doorbell rings. We all sort of jump, then laugh. Rosie scoots ahead of us and opens the door. But instead of a person from DCF, there’s Uncle Dave.
His arms are out before he even gets in the house. He goes from hugging Rosie, to Livy, who jumps in his arms, to me. I go for the one-armed man hug, but he pulls me close to him. Pats me on the back. “Good to see you, John.”
Dad and Mom stand watching the lovefest. Dad and Uncle Dave haven’t always gotten along. Uncle Dave told me that’s because the oldest kid always feels the need to lord over the younger ones. Dad over Uncle Dave. Ryan over me. I used to tell him, by that logic, I should lord over Livy, but I don’t want to. He always said it just wasn’t in me. Middle child bullshit or something. Maybe.
“Thanks for coming, Dave,” Mom says and offers him her cheek.
“You asked him to come? Why?” All of a sudden, it’s hard to breathe.
“I wanted to.” Uncle Dave moves into the kitchen. Dad holds up a mug, and Uncle Dave says, “Hell yes.”
“Black?” Dad asks.
“Nah.” Uncle Dave smiles. “A little cream.”
Dad hands him the mug and smacks him on the back. “It’s hell getting old, huh?”
Uncle Dave smiles, takes a drink of the coffee. “Sure is. Cream for you also?”
Mom scoots past him to open the fridge. “Anyone feel like eggs?”
I stand on the edges of this weird little interaction, stunned and stupid and worried as fuck. Do they even get what’s going to happen? Does Mom remember the last time?
Dad grabs the potatoes, and Uncle Dave starts slicing and dicing an onion. I watch his impressive knife skills, the ones he tried to teach me that he’s now trying to teach Livy, when he notices my stare. “Hey, Johnny, why don’t you go out to the truck? I might have brought you something.”
I stare at him, wanting him to be the adult who will decipher this situation for me, but he’s patiently showing Livy how to do the onions while Dad gets the pan ready. I take Uncle Dave’s keys and open the cab to his truck. Sitting there, waiting, among other things, are boxes filled with welding tools. A mask, clamps, a welding cable, a kit with the machine, and a tricked-out workbench.
I’m carrying my load full of crap into the house, and Uncle Dave nods. Dad asks, “What’s that all about?”
“I heard Johnny’s got an architectural project to finish. Wasn’t sure what he was thinking of doing but thought welding might give him an edge for his 3-D model.”
I expect Mom to freak out and Dad to get all stupid about it, but instead, Mom shocks the shit out of me by saying, “That’s so sweet of you, Dave.”
Livy steps forward. “Hey. What about me?”
Dad puts his hand on her shoulder.
“There may be something for you in the truck also.”
“Wheee!” Livy screams and runs outside.
Mom sips her coffee. “You spoil them.”
“My pleasure. They’re good kids. Oh, I also got Ryan an iPad. Had it loaded with some of those communication programs they say are working miracles with kids.”
“He’s so hard on…”
“It’s got a box that’s guaranteed to keep it from breaking, no matter what he does.”
Mom pats him on the shoulder and gives him one of her most approving looks.
I stare at my loot. “I’m not sure…”
“What you’re going to do?” Uncle Dave finishes. “It’ll come to you.”
“I’m not in that class anymore.”
Uncle Dave drinks his coffee and thinks. “Then I guess you’ll have to do your own research, huh?” He claps me on the back and says, “Let’s eat before the legal system descends on us.”
“Dad, I wanted to talk to you…”
“I know, son. Let’s eat. Then we’ll talk. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”
We sit at the dining room but eat off casual plates. Sausage, eggs, and potatoes and onions.
As Rosie clears the table, Uncle Dave pushes Ryan into the sunroom. Livy throws on her new Beat headphones and downloads songs from the iTunes store thanks to her new gift card.
“You wanted to talk?” Dad asks.
“Yeah. I knew we were going to be questioned.”
“It’s just a formality.” Mom waves a butter knife in the air. “Because Ryan got out of his car seat.”
“But I’m not sure it’ll go as smoothly as you think. Remember before?”
I can’t help but look around at all the things I threw that day. China. Furniture. Pictures. Vases. I smashed it all. To avoid this next part. I was the problem child. To make them see that Mom wasn’t neglecting Livy and me. That everyone was doing the best they could.
Mom sighs but goes back to eating her eggs. “Yeah. Not forgetting that day any time soon. But things are better now, aren’t they?” She puts her knife down, looks at me. “We are better. Right?”
“Mom…you don’t understand…”
My mind goes back to the places I don’t want to remember. After the accident. Versions of me all different ages and sizes. All doing the same thing. Breaking things. Pictures. Vases. Anything I thought Mom loved more than me. I didn’t want her to push me away and hate me, so I hated her first. I started fires. I took an ax and tried to cut myself with it. I wanted to die. Until the dragon came to me. Maia Cetus. He was everything I wanted to be. Strong. Protected. Untouchable. He was the one who helped me that day.
I’d come home from school with another detention. I knew that
would cause a fuss. Knew Dad would come back from the house that Mom exiled him to after he forced her to let the doctors put a G-tube in Ryan.
Mom was in the dining room, looking at papers. There was a woman at the table with her. Mom was shaking her head. I could tell she’d been crying.
“You must be John,” the woman said as I walked into the dining room. She had one of those adult put-on smiles, the ones that are supposed to make you feel like everything’s OK when things are really, really bad. “I’m Mrs. Gordon. I just need to ask you a few questions.”
My eyes zeroed in on those pictures on the table. All of me after my accidents. Then onto her badge. DCF. I knew DCF. There was a kid at school who was taken from his parents by them. His brother and he were split up and sent to different places. DCF was bad.
Mom’s face was tight. Livy was at school. Ryan was in the other room, screaming his head off.
“You really do seem to have your hands full, Mrs. Strickland.”
Mom put her hand on one of the pictures. “No, it’s not like that. I mean, it isn’t easy, but…”
“John,” Mrs. Gordon said, “I just have to ask you about some of these accidents.”
“He’s an active boy.”
I froze. If they investigated Mom, they could take me and Livy. They could take my little sister. All because my stupid teacher noticed some bruises on me. Some accidents.
My body felt like it melted into hot lava. Like I could pour right out of that room. I couldn’t let them take Livy. They couldn’t take her. I had to do something. I picked up the poker by the fireplace and started hitting the walls. The furniture. The china. I let my beast out like he’d wanted this whole time. When I was finished, I looked at Mom, whose face was blotchy, and her voice was strained from screaming. “John, stop. What are you doing?”
Mrs. Gordon was on her phone.
I ran out the front door and kept running. Running. Running. I couldn’t let them take Livy. I had to go. Find a way to live on my own. I was ten, but I knew I couldn’t go back to that house. Dad found me. Took me in his car. He cried the entire way to his house. So did I.
“I don’t know what happened, John. But you can’t live with your mom anymore.”
And now we were right back there.
“They were going to take Livy,” I say.
“What?”
“They had all those pictures of my accidents, and they…”
Dad’s face bleached a ghastly shade of white. “What made you think…”
“That’s why you…acted like that? You thought they were going to take Livy?” Mom asks.
I nod.
“Jesus Christ,” Dad whispers.
Mom stares at the ceiling and starts to cry. “I wouldn’t have let that happen. I would have protected her. You.”
The truth sits between us now. Do I open up this can of crap? Do I lay it on the table? My hand goes to my dragon medallion. “You…you weren’t doing so well, Mom.”
“John…”
“Let him talk, Lydia.”
“You’d kicked Dad out. You were pissed at me all the time. I mean, all the freaking time. You even lost it with Livy sometimes, and who could lose it with her? The only person in this world you were nice to was him. Ryan.”
“That’s not true…I didn’t mean… Don’t look at me like that, Scott. It was hard raising these kids by myself.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“And I came home from school, and this woman was there, giving you grief, and I saw where she was from, and I knew. I knew it was my fault she was there. If I hadn’t gotten into so much trouble or gotten hurt all those times. If I’d just followed your rules…”
Simple fucking rules.
Mom’s head bends. “I wish I’d known…I didn’t… Oh my God. I’ve messed this all up.” She stands and walks to the living room. Then back to us. Just moves and moves. To the chair. To the window. Like it’s too much to stay still.
Dad tries to follow her trajectory, but he just lags behind her like a puppy. “The point is, things are different now,” Dad says. “We all made mistakes.”
“I’m sorry about Ryan, Mom. I really am.”
“What?”
“It was my fault that day…I took his helmet. I distracted him and you. I know I can never make up for…”
She holds up her hand. “No. No. This is too much.”
My body fills with this horrible sinking feeling. Like someone is feeding me river rocks that keep piling up in my stomach. “OK. I get it.” The feeling of swallowing boulders weighs me down, but I have to keep moving. She can’t deal with me. I’m too much. And I’ve got no right to ask her. All I know is I’ve got to get out of here. The air is hot and stuffy, and I can’t breathe. I can’t. Somehow, I slide to the floor. And I’ve got this second of thinking that it’s crazy how Mom keeps moving and I’m just stuck.
Then Mom crouches down next to me. Her face is close to mine, severe, thin, her eyes bright and pinpoint like she’s a vampire or something. She reaches out to touch my face, her fingers so thin. So incredibly thin. I try not to flinch, but I’m scared of her thin hands and not used to her touching me. She grabs my face. “Look at me, John.”
“Mom…I…”
“Look at me.” I can barely stand to lift my eyes to her, not because I’m scared but because I’m scared that we are actually talking about this. I’ll know how she feels. How she’ll never forgive me. “Look.” I force my eyes to meet hers. I don’t see anger or hate. And the relief of that washes over me like sitting under a waterfall. She touches my forehead like she’s checking me for a fever, and that makes me feel like melting.
“John. My son. I never blamed you for the accident.”
I shake my head. She’s lying. It’s what moms do at times like this, but I just can’t do it. I can’t. I need the truth today. “You left me and Livy. Then when you took me to see him…” I have to stop, chew on my knuckle. “You…”
She nods. One skinny tear runs down her cheek. “I was grieving for my son. It didn’t make me a good mother, I get that, but that doesn’t mean…” She shakes her head. “I never…I just wanted my son back. That’s all.”
“I was your son too. I needed you too.”
She puts her hands back on my cheeks. “I know. I’m sorry. If I could take it back, I would. But you always managed. You took care of Livy. And I took care of Ryan. And I thought if I could just bring Ryan back…”
“We’d all be OK.” I finish for her.
She nods.
“I was always making a mess of things. And I thought maybe you wished it was me who got hurt instead of him.”
She shakes her head back and forth. “No. I never wished that. I wished a lot of things. But never that. I love you, John Michael Strickland. You are such an incredible person. You always have been. So brave and strong.” She runs her hand through my hair, and normally, that would freak me the frick out, but now, it makes me feel so loved.
She puts her hand up. “As I lay in that hospital bed for the last few days, all I thought about was you.”
A small warmth spreads over me.
Now I’m crying too. She can’t be serious. Of course she blamed me. I blamed myself. She grabs my arms with a strength that amazes me.
“I blamed so many people. Pete. Your father. But I never blamed you. Never. For a really long time, I blamed myself. And you know what, that’s not right either. It was an accident. And afterward when you were so angry, and you had a right to be, I couldn’t see it. I was mad that you were squandering your life when Ryan didn’t have one anymore.”
“He did have a life, Mom. It was just a different one.”
She nods. “You’re right. You’re right. You’re so smart.”
“Someone has to be.” Old family joke.
She laughs. “There are so ma
ny things I’d do differently if I could.”
“Me too,” I choke out.
“It’s not too late for us. For any of us. We are looking into another place for Ryan.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Your father has been wanting this for years. This accident has made me see we need to consider the possibilities. That maybe he should…maybe it would be better if…”
I smile back. “Are you OK with that?”
“Yes. No. I’m scared, but it’s the right thing for him and for everyone. Dad said that he’s talked to one place, like, two hours away. Says the staff is amazing. That he’d learn to do things for himself. That he’d share a room and have friends. I kept wanting to bring him back. To fix him. This whole time. Ryan is who he is. I need to accept that.”
I nod.
“Boys always leave their mothers. It’s brutal.”
“We don’t always want to.”
There’s a knock on the door, and I know we’ve got to answer it. Get this next part over with.
“Wait. I want to tell you guys something. Because of this investigation, I’ve got to go and get drug-tested.”
“I thought you did and you passed?”
“He didn’t test me. Gave me a break. Now he has to. No choice.”
“If you fail?”
“I go back to Chicago and face charges.”
Dad puts his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s see what happens. But we’d like to go with you if you let us.”
“OK.”
Uncle Dave goes to the front door and gives Dad a look. “OK?”
“Yeah. We’re ready.” Dad squeezes my shoulder. “This time, no drama.”
I can’t help laughing. “No drama.”
Chapter 27
I lie in my bed, an old football in my hand. I toss it in the air. Catch it. Throw it again. It feels good to do it. Again and again and again. My head is filled with too much. It’s hard to believe all that happed today. DCF came and went, and we made it through. I took my drug test in Steve’s office with everyone but Emily there, and I passed.
When I got home, I had a message from Miss Quinlan reminding me that I can make up all the work I missed and telling me that Mr. Bonham said he’d consult with me on my project if I wanted that. If anyone had told me it would all go this way, I would’ve told them they were nuts. Or high. That’s the other thing. I’m still sitting on that lid of pot I don’t intend to smoke or sell. Weird.