When I opened my eyes, silent darkness surrounded me. In shadows of moonlight, my room in Credence looked exactly as it had before the dream.
Aunt Charlie liked to say ‘dreams are just a twisted reflection of recent experiences. Dreams are how people work through issues during sleep.’
Had I somehow mixed the lights and noises from the fair into my dreams of the past? Were my dreams really of the past? If all of what I’d envisioned did actually happen, where had I come from?
The Game
Bailey and I hung out for most of Sunday, riding our bikes in the woods beyond our row of houses. A simple drop from silent black road to bumpy gravel led us to trails that branched from either side of the one-lane road. By following her imaginary map far enough, she promised we’d cross several shallow creeks and emerge at power lines leading to the river.
The woods thickened as we entered the area she called Ghost Town. Deep pits of muddy water lined the road. Down a hill and along a creek lay foundations, representing a once thriving town. Bailey talked of how she and Pade would walk the water’s edge, pretending the heart of that old town had somehow found life support.
Swirling waves gurgled before the water came into sight. We weaved through the trees, walking a tight rope around fingers of poison ivy, until we reached the bank. I removed my shoes and socks, wasting no time in joining the weathered stones. Leaves fell around us, blanketing the water with a splash of color. The air smelled of dirt and rain, and calm, despite the rushing water.
“You know our parents would freak if they found us here,” Bailey said, laughing at her own bold statement. “If Uncle Justin ever saw you in that water…”
Dad would be furious. He’d tell me how scared I should be, when my heart overflowed with enough happiness to squash any fear. I grabbed a handful of water and washed the dirt and sweat from my face. The water chilled my toes and at times nearly took me for a ride along the rocks. If only I could drift away, be someone else, have another life.
“Yeah, I know,” was all I said, but stood in the ankle-deep liquid beauty until we absolutely had to leave.
When the afternoon washed into a purple and orange sky, we wheeled our bikes back across the blacktop. Bailey crossed the yard and I parked behind the house, slipping through the backdoor. I tiptoed through the kitchen, to where Mom and Dad were talking in the dim living room.
“I think it’s time to tell her,” Mom said.
I flattened against the wall beside the living room entrance, preparing for a detour from the usual ‘kids only’ version of the truth. My stomach fluttered with the certainty they were talking about me.
“You may be right,” Dad said. “I just want her to enjoy being young. You know it’s a luxury my parents didn’t allow.”
Mom sighed. “Knowing her past, I sometimes wonder if I have the right to say she should hear more of the truth, especially when I know she’ll hurt.”
“Lorraine, you have every right. In Jessica’s eyes, you’re her mother and I’m her father.”
“She can’t remember her real parents and I feel horrible. Not knowing what became of them has to plague her mind, even though she hardly tells us.”
“We can’t erase what was done for her protection,” Dad said. “She loves us both and that will never change, but let’s focus on now and not then.”
Mom sighed again, frustration spilling from her voice. “She’ll be sixteen soon.”
“I know.” Dad’s words were a leaking tire.
“You should be the one to tell her.”
“When she’s ready.”
“And when will that be?” she asked. “In case you haven’t noticed, Jes is growing up fast.”
“She held it together so well last year, but I’m afraid she won’t face the truth without pain in some form.”
Oh God, he was sick again. He waited so long to tell me before.
Silence filled the room until Mom’s voice, sounding resigned. “We can only hope for the best.”
“I must take my battle to others and maybe then a cure can be found. It may take a year or more, but the future is worth everything. No matter what happens to me, you must see her through this.”
Mom equaled his concrete words. “You know how much she means to me.”
I drew myself from the wall, ready to cry my eyes out in private. Dad was sick again, I knew for sure. How long had he concealed the truth this time?
“I’ll talk to her tonight, before I leave. But I’ll only tell her what she needs to know for now.”
Shaking, I managed to climb the stairs and sneak by the boys’ room. Nearly an hour passed as my pillow soaked up a steady stream of tears. I gripped the comforter, pulling the fluffs of green over my head when Mom opened the door.
“Sorry Jes,” she said, stumbling to a halt. “I didn’t hear you come in. How long have you been back?”
I tried to hide the shaking in my voice. “Just a little while.”
“Honey, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Mom exhaled a long breath. “Dinner’s in twenty minutes.”
With darkness settled beyond the window, I crawled out of bed and snuck from my doorway to the bathroom. Splashing water on my face in a vain attempt to hide the fact I’d been crying brought no relief from the sick feeling inside. I went down the stairs, unsure if dinner had already been finished and cleared.
Danny’s voice was speeding. “She was there and Bailey—”
Collin cut him off. “They were at a creek.”
“Let me get this straight,” said Dad, with control. “The two of you saw Jes and Bailey at a creek?”
“Yes, sir.”
He looked at me, frozen in the doorway. “Jessica, go to the living room. We need to have a talk.” His eyes burned as they glazed over me, cutting back to the twins. “You two are never to go there again, do you hear me?”
“But, Dad—” Collin said.
“You were both told not to leave the pavement on your bikes. That’s two weeks with no bikes.”
The boys whined as Dad followed my slow progress to the living room. He motioned to the couch, but didn’t claim the seat next to me. Instead, he chose a stance in front of the fireplace with his back to me. The clock ticked endlessly, my thoughts of what to say in chaos.
Dad rubbed his eyes and turned. “Jessica Ray, I’m very disappointed in you.”
I cut my eyes to the floor. “I know.”
“I’ve expressly told you not to go near water, and look what happened. Your brothers followed you down there.”
My head drifted lower.
“Anything could have happened down there. Your mom and I can’t always protect you, especially if you sneak off.”
The tears returned. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t get it. If you ever…” His voice choked. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
I straightened. What would I do without him? When was he going to tell me?
Dad’s eyes narrowed. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
As I shook my head, he clenched one hand and shoved the other through his hair. “You’re grounded.”
“Grounded?” An entire grade had passed since the last time Dad made that threat.
“It’s time you start taking responsibility for your actions.”
Responsibility? Was he for real? He’d been lying to me. I rose and stomped back to the kitchen.
“Jessica,” he shouted. “I’m not finished.”
Mom sat in silence, eyes following me as if I might dash for the porch door at any moment.
“Jes is in trouble,” Danny said, laughing with Collin.
“So are you,” Mom said, as I calculated my escape. Hunger faded while I debated between the stairs and the door.
Collin jumped up. “Jes can’t speak—she’s grounded.”
“What the hell ever,” I blasted, quoting one of Tosh’s favorite lines.
Mom stood, blood drai
ning from her face. “Jessica!”
I turned as Dad grabbed my arm with one hand.
With the other, he hit me.
The searing of his hand on my cheek sent heat rushing across my face. In all my years, neither Mom nor Dad had ever hit me. My eyes met Dad’s with all the fierceness I could gather from my heart, from my soul. I inhaled, ready to stand my ground if he hit me again.
Dad’s hand rose. “Jessica Ray.”
Courage welled from a hidden source. “Go ahead, hit me again.”
“You will respect your parents.”
“You’re not my real parents. I wish I’d never met you.”
An eternal minute passed before Dad’s sad words. “Be careful what you wish for.”
“Justin!” Mom’s broken voice rung in my ears. The sound carved a path to my heart and made me want to cry all over again. I looked at the boys, who watched with quiet worry. Then I escaped the room, along with two sentences I’d give a year’s allowance to take back.
Dad didn’t follow.
* * * * *
The clock on my nightstand glowed nine-thirty when someone tapped on the door. Elbows resting on the comforter, I pushed the book I’d opened under my pillow. “Come in.”
“Hey,” Dad said, crossing the room. He lowered to the edge of my bed. “Are you okay?”
I watched his shadow on the wall, etched by the dim lamp. “You didn’t hit me that hard.”
“I’m sorry.”
Something in his voice brought tears to my eyes and I met his stare. “Me too.”
He faced the window. “I’ve never seen your eyes filled with such determination, as if your heart had been clad by iron. What happened?”
“I got mad.”
Dad laughed as his eyes returned to my face. “Mad? You were furious. You reminded me of…”
“Of who?”
When Dad spoke again, his voice was a whisper. “Your mother.”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom never gets mad.”
“You don’t know her like I know her.”
“Dad, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked like that.”
“No, you shouldn’t be disrespectful.” He rested a hand over mine. “I’m leaving tonight.”
My breathing stopped. “You’re going to work?”
“I have to go to Tokyo.”
“Tokyo is on the other side of the planet. How long will you be gone?”
He sighed. “At least four weeks, maybe six.”
I sat straight up, shoving back the comforter. “A month? You’re leaving us for a whole month?”
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
A fresh round of tears burned in my eyes, a river this time, anything to make him stay. “Please Dad,” I said, as if time had not separated me from the fears of a five-year-old. “Don’t go. Not now.”
“Why not now?”
“You’ve never been gone for a whole month.” I rested my head on his chest. “Please.”
Dad hugged me tight. “One day you’ll understand the importance of my work, I promise.”
How could I ever understand him leaving me?
* * * * *
Dad was already on a plane before breakfast the next morning. After choking down cereal, I wasted almost forty-five minutes with my clothes and then the stairs. When I climbed into the van, Danny and Collin amazed me with a hug.
“We’re sorry,” they whispered.
Bailey leaned over the seat. “Are we having a moment?”
Their faces brightened as I smiled. “We’re good.”
Mom shifted the van into drive. “Okay, you guys, don’t forget PTA tonight.”
PTA? That meant the absolute first time Dad wouldn’t be there to nag about meeting all my teachers, the first time I’d miss complaining about him embarrassing me. I closed my eyes, bracing for a long day.
First block came, but no Chase. Mrs. Pearson directed class as usual, not once casting her eyes on his empty desk. I flipped through the pages of my English book, desperate for a story to read, anything to shut out her voice. When the bell rang, I stared at the door and the surge of people pushing through in groups of three. Instead of following, I approached her desk.
“Mrs. Pearson?” I asked.
Her eyes rose. “Yes, Miss Delaney.”
I took a step back. “I just…”
“Speak, Miss Delaney, I do not have time to waste.”
“I wanted to ask about Chase.”
“Chase?”
“Yes ma’am. I wanted to know if he’s sick or something…” My words trailed off, but I didn’t look away. I held her cold, unyielding eyes with mine.
When she spoke again, her voice softened. “My son was not feeling well today. He is resting at home.”
“Will you please tell him I hope he feels better?”
“I will.”
My heart sank, but I managed a smile. “Thank you.” Without looking back, I headed for second block.
Bailey reached for my arm as I left the building, pulling me from the flow of traffic. “Did you ask about Chase?”
“Mrs. Pearson said he was feeling bad and stayed home.”
Bailey’s voice echoed my depression. “That sucks.”
Second block crawled along, much the same as first. No Chase. I pulled out my art book and started a new drawing. The rest of the day was dedicated to a picture of my favorite spot on the creek.
Since PTA began at six, Mom took us out for dinner. Aunt Charlie had plans to meet us at the restaurant, but a last minute emergency kept her at the hospital. Our table made for a huge contrast to the clatter of plates and laughter from the next booth as even the boys struggled for happy thoughts.
Back at school, I waited outside the doors of building one on a bench next to Bailey. “Did you hear how long Dad might be gone?”
She nodded and bit her thumbnail. “I talked to my father last night. He might come home for Christmas.”
I leaned back until my shoulder blades reached the brick. “What does your mom say?”
“Mom has always loved him; I just can’t figure out why.” She shoved her phone in her purse, nearly ripping the zipper. “He only stayed around long enough for me and Pade to be born.”
I thought of Pade. “There must have been something great about him.”
“Mom is so devoted. I can’t understand why she doesn’t just divorce him and go on with her life. He’ll never give up his job in Colorado; not for her, not for Pade, and definitely not for me.”
“But isn’t he from Colorado? Dad says—”
“What, how nice the weather is in Colorado? It doesn’t matter. He should live where the family chooses. It’s three against one.”
“Do you think we should go inside?” I asked.
“Let’s wait ‘til the meeting is over.”
“Too bad Dad isn’t here,” I whispered.
“You’re doing better than me. At least you have one parent at open house. I guess Mrs. Greene will keep the boys until your mom talks with our teachers and Pade’s.”
“Good thing she’s teaching him pre-cal. That leaves only three if he and Terrance bother to show up.”
Bailey laughed. “Terrance has a car. Where would you be, right now, if your best friend had a car?”
“Not at PTA, that’s for sure.”
When Mom appeared to lead us around, Bailey hung back. “Do you really have to talk with all of them? Don’t you work with these people every day?”
“I’ve seen Mrs. Pearson, but haven’t had the chance to talk with her. Besides, talking to other teachers during school hours is not the same. Tonight I need to be a parent, not just a teacher. Do you know what I mean?”
“Sure,” Bailey said, but shrugged when Mom turned away.
Mom took a sweeping look around Mrs. Pearson’s room. She admired the classic playbills that I barely thought of anymore, along with scenes from some of Mrs. Pearson’s favorite plays, including those she bragged about attending.
“Wow,” Mom said, “she loves Shakespeare.”
Just as Mrs. Pearson finished with Angel’s mom, Bailey’s pocket buzzed her latest ringtone. Mom frowned and Bailey stepped outside, leaving Mrs. Pearson to stare at the phone.
The two women shook hands as Mrs. Pearson introduced herself. “You have a smart daughter, Mrs. Delaney.”
Mom smiled. “Her father and I are proud.”
Mrs. Pearson’s next question seemed only natural. “Where is your husband?”
“He’s out of the country, traveling for his job.”
“How unfortunate.”
“Also unfortunate is my sister being detained at the hospital tonight.”
Mrs. Pearson filtered the words with an emotionless face. “Yes, I was looking forward to meeting Mrs. Sanders.”
“Oh?”
Mom’s curiosity was an open invitation for Mrs. Pearson to tell all, but instead she turned to me. “I talked with my son this evening and can gladly say he will return tomorrow.”
“Cool.” I remembered the folder tucked under my arm. “I took some notes in chemistry for Chase. He probably hated to miss it.”
She reached for the folder while Mom went to find Bailey. “He does love science.” To my surprise, she opened the folder and glanced over the pages. When her fingers paused, she pulled my penciled masterpiece from beneath the stack. “This is…” she hesitated, raising her eyes. “…wonderful. You drew this?”
“Since Chase looks at my drawings every day, I thought it might make him feel better.”
Her smile warmed. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Pearson closed the folder and tossed it on her desk. Her face settled into a fake smile and her words were all business again. I escaped into the hall as Bailey made the long walk to stand before her favorite teacher.
Rachelle stared from a doorway across the hall. “Your eyes remind me of a puppy someone dumped on the road next to our house. A cocker spaniel I think, but Dad wouldn’t let me keep her. Said the curly hair was too long already.”
“Is he here tonight?” I asked.
“Yeah. Too bad yours couldn’t make it.”
I tried to smile. “I’m getting kind of used to being disappointed. Life story, you know. If only my real parents—”
Leftover Girl Page 10