Gap Life

by John Coy

  I nodded. Nothing I could say would justify my stupid decision.

  She turned toward Rayne. “You know better. You know how we run this house.”

  Rayne looked like she was about to cry.

  “I came back for my phone.” Stephanie went into the kitchen and picked it up. “And I find this. It better not ever happen again.”

  I shifted from one foot to the other.

  “One more mistake like this and I’ll fire you both.” She pointed at me. “Get out of here right now.”

  I left without saying anything. I’d screwed things up not just for myself, but for Rayne, too.

  I wandered around aimlessly and my elbow throbbed. The one person I wanted to talk to was Rayne, and I’d blown it.

  When I finally went home, I went straight to my room. I held my bad arm against my chest and lay back on my bed, realizing I’d totally messed up.

  BE CAREFUL

  A TALL, DARK-HAIRED MAN with a thin mustache and expensive sunglasses walked hand in hand with Rayne through narrow cobblestoned streets. Old buildings jutted out at sharp angles, and I hid behind one as I peeked around to see what they were doing.

  Rayne wore her Goodwill bowling shoes, a red skirt, and a white button-down shirt. The man, who was dressed stylishly in black, presented a gift to her as they sat down on a stone bench. Rayne eagerly ripped the paper off and opened the box to reveal a sparkling pair of silver high heels. He bent down and removed one of her bowling shoes, then placed the new shoe on her foot. It fit perfectly and she beamed. He slipped the other one on and she stood up and twirled with delight. He came to her, leaned in, and began to unbutton her shirt. Rayne looked up and smiled and their lips met for a long kiss as he ran his hands all over her. I wanted to hurl a rock and crush his skull, but I was frozen in place.

  “Cray, get up.” Lansing shook my shoulder.

  “Leave me alone.” I hadn’t finished my nightmare.

  “Ten minutes until we leave for church. Dad’s asking where you are.”

  “Tell him I’m not going.” I rolled over and my elbow throbbed.

  “What?”

  “I’m not going.”

  “I’m not telling him that. C’mon, Cray.” Lansing hurried out of the room.

  I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to go back to the dream and be braver. I wanted to kill Marco and rescue Rayne.

  “Cray, what’s the matter?” Mom knocked at the door. “Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  “I’m coming in to check.” She opened the door, pulled the pillow away from my head, and put her palm on my forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a temperature.”

  I inhaled her perfume. “I’m not sick.”

  “Then why aren’t you dressed?”

  “I’m not going to church today.” I pulled away from her.

  “Why not?”

  “I need to be by myself.”

  “We go to church every Sunday.”

  I didn’t respond. Doing things the way we always did didn’t seem like a good enough reason.

  “Everybody will notice if you’re not with us and ask where you are.”

  That didn’t seem important either.

  “Oh, Cray,” she sighed. “Your father is going to be angry.”

  I pulled the pillow back over my head. I was fed up with Dad’s anger being the reason we did things. I was finished with high school and didn’t care what he said about the frontal lobes of my brain. I was old enough to make my own decisions.

  I heard Mom go downstairs and knew she was on her way to tell him. I sat up in bed and listened to muffled voices in the kitchen. I got up and pulled on shorts and a T-shirt so I wouldn’t be in bed when he came in.

  “What the hell is going on?” I heard Dad’s voice before he got to my room.

  “Nothing,” I said calmly even though my stomach was churning.

  “Get ready for church,” he growled.

  “I’m not going.”

  “Listen to me.” The tendons in his neck stuck out. “We go to church every Sunday in this house.”

  “I don’t want to today.” I took a step back from him.

  “I don’t care what you want. When you live under our roof, when you eat our food, you follow our rules.”

  “I’m not a kid.” I took another step back. “Besides, you said I needed to pay rent to live here.”

  “Where is it? I haven’t seen any damn rent.”

  “I haven’t gotten paid yet.”

  “If you’re not dressed for church and in the car in three minutes, you’ll regret it. Three minutes!”

  I sat back on my bed as he stormed out of the room. My head hurt as I remembered last night. I’d really screwed up by going to Oakcrest. I hadn’t officially started, and Stephanie was already angry with me.

  “Maybe he’s sick. Maybe there’s something wrong with him,” Mom said outside the door.

  “He’s sick, all right,” Dad thundered. “There’s definitely something wrong with him.”

  I lifted my middle finger and waited. I wasn’t going anywhere. I heard the front door open and imagined the three of them standing together.

  The door slammed shut and the house went quiet. I listened to the BMW start, back up, and drive away.

  I bent over and rubbed my forehead. I couldn’t get that image of Marco with his hands all over Rayne—and her enjoying it—out of my mind.

  After taking a couple of Advil and gobbling down a chocolate-chip granola bar, I called Jett. There was no way I was waiting around for Dad to return. I expected to feel better after standing up to him, but I didn’t. I’d jumped off a cliff and was swimming with sharks. I could be chewed up anytime.

  “What’s up, Cray Man?” Jett answered.

  “Nothing,” I said. “Can I come over?”

  “Sure.”

  * * *

  I WENT ACROSS TO THE SHADY SIDE OF THE STREET since it was already hot, and I kept thinking about Rayne. She talked about different being good, but then her mom did something hugely different, and it was clear that was bad. Abandoning your own kids was terrible.

  Rayne had said she was a mess like she was warning me. But she didn’t act like a mess. Compared to most kids our age, she seemed to have her shit together. I was the one who’d messed up last night.

  But that nightmare with Marco gnawed away at me, especially since she said she loved him.

  Jett was sitting outside on his porch by himself with no Nora in sight.

  He lifted up his Coke. “Want something to drink?”

  “Sure.”

  He went into the house and I sat down on the porch swing. I hadn’t forgotten about bowling but decided to let it go.

  “How well do you know Rayne?” I asked as he handed me a Sprite.

  “Why are you obsessed with her?”

  “I’m not obsessed. I just want to find out what you know.” I held the cold can against my forehead.

  “What I told you. How she’s smart, how she helped me, how she’s got strong opinions about things. But she can be intense. I don’t know if she’s right for you.”

  “What do you mean?” I snapped open the Sprite. “That I’m not smart enough for her?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “What then?” I was sick of him hinting at things.

  “She’s really different. That’s all.”

  “What’s the matter with different? We could use more different around here. I’m sick of everything being the same.” I was sounding like Rayne.

  “Do what you want.” Jett crushed his empty can. “Just be careful.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. “Forget it.”

  I looked directly at him. I wasn’t forgetting.

  THE CRASH

  SUNDAY AFTERNOON, I lounged in a deck chair next to Jett and Nora by her backyard pool.

  “Where’s Rayne?” she asked.

  “At her grandma’s.”

  “Tha
t’s too bad,” she said, but didn’t sound convincing.

  I closed my eyes against the sun and worried about Rayne being angry. I’d messed up bad. Then I remembered our conversation in the cemetery. I bet not many people knew about Rayne’s mom. She had trusted me with something important, but then I’d blown it by forcing the Marco issue.

  “Teagan was asking about you,” Nora said.

  I opened an eye, though I wasn’t interested.

  “Did you know she’s lifeguarding over at Lake Winona?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She looked great at her graduation party yesterday.” Nora adjusted her bikini top. “She’s totally tan.”

  “Totally?” Jett asked.

  “You know what I mean.” She tossed a towel at him.

  “I need to cool off.” Jett stood up.

  Nora got up. She looked hot in her tiny purple bikini. She and Jett dove into the pool and I kept thinking of Rayne and wondered what kind of swimsuit she’d wear. I wished she was with us. But there was no way she’d be doing this. Rayne wouldn’t hang out at a pool in the middle of the afternoon and she wouldn’t be caught dead at Nora’s.

  Nora climbed onto Jett’s shoulders and they fooled around in the water. She was so obvious, talking about Teagan like that. As if Teagan would be better for me than Rayne just because Nora liked Teagan and was scared of Rayne. Nora wasn’t honest. I hadn’t noticed that until Rayne pointed it out. Maybe I should be warning Jett about her.

  What was I doing anyway? Jett had asked me to come over after our “forget it” exchange because he knew I didn’t have anything to do. But everything that Nora said irritated me and reminded me of Rayne.

  I had no place to go, though. I wasn’t going home with Dad making threats. Rayne wouldn’t be back until later. So I pulled a towel over my face and leaned back and tried to ignore the laughing and splashing by imagining being someplace else, some other country far away.

  * * *

  SUNDAY EVENING, when I rang the bell at Oakcrest, nobody answered right away and I hoped Stephanie wasn’t inside. Eli had said what a cool boss she was, but I’d seen another side of her. She could be fierce.

  A woman with shoulder-length blond hair came to the door. “Oh, hello.”

  “Hi, I’m Cray. I’m here for orientation.”

  “I’m Kirsty. I work weekday evenings.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I stood on the step and waited for her to open the door wider or to step back to let me in. She didn’t do either, and I worried I’d been fired without Stephanie telling me.

  “Am I supposed to be here?”

  “Yeah, Stephanie said you’d be coming. Dinner’s finished and the kitchen’s finally cleaned. I had to have Sean redo the counters three times. He starts telling stories and forgets what he’s doing. You have to stay on top of him.” Finally she stepped back and I moved inside.

  The living room was quiet as I climbed the stairs. “Where’s everybody?”

  “In their rooms,” Kirsty said. “They enjoy their privacy.”

  On TV, an infomercial for a new-and-improved super juicer promised to restore youthful vigor.

  A door opened and Nicole emerged. “Hi, Race Car.”

  “Hey, Nicole.” I moved to the couch.

  “What did you call him?” Kirsty turned off the TV.

  “He said we could call him Race Car.” Nicole sat down.

  “I’m sure he didn’t,” Kirsty said. “I suggest you call him by his proper name.”

  Nicole looked confused and turned to me.

  “Well, umm … actually I did.” My heel started tapping away.

  “You said they could call you Race Car?” Kirsty arched her eyebrows.

  “Yeah.” That no longer seemed like such a bright idea.

  “I don’t think that’s age appropriate.” Kirsty pulled a pair of knitting needles and a ball of gold yarn from a bag. “It’s very important that the people who live here conduct themselves in a manner appropriate to their age. They need to call you Cray.”

  I rubbed my hands together and didn’t know what to do. All kinds of things I did probably weren’t appropriate for my age.

  “I suggest you go to your room, Nicole.” Kirsty’s needles flew. “Cray and I have some business to discuss.”

  Nicole stood slowly and shuffled down the hall. The house didn’t feel at all like it had at dinner last night.

  “So how did you hear about the job here?” She adjusted her needles while she talked.

  “Rayne told me about it.”

  “You know Rayne?” She arched her eyebrows again.

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s different,” Kirsty pronounced.

  That was the worst thing she could have said.

  “Have you worked with people with disabilities before?” she asked.

  “No, but my cousin has Down syndrome.”

  “Well, you have to pay attention. You can’t be manipulated into doing things for them. Everybody needs to be as independent as possible.”

  I disliked Kirsty immediately. Her approach was so much more distrustful than Rayne’s and Eli’s. I sat back on the couch as she elaborated on her techniques of monitoring people and making sure they weren’t slacking off.

  “Each person does it differently,” she said. “Sean does it with his stories and jokes. Nicole does it with her inattentiveness and Kate with her pretend helplessness. Brent’s pretty good, but he does things too fast. You’ve got to watch them.”

  Kirsty set down her knitting and showed me a bunch of forms on the computer. She went through each one in detail and stressed the importance of documentation “to cover your behind.” She didn’t seem to enjoy the people in the house and talked about them more negatively than Eli, Rayne, and Stephanie did.

  A crash came from the end of the hall.

  “What’s that?” I turned toward her.

  “Probably Brent knocking something over again.” Kirsty waved it off.

  “Brent, are you okay?” Nicole opened her door.

  “What happened?” Sean stepped out.

  “Everybody, relax.” Kirsty led the way and I followed.

  Kate peeked out of her doorway.

  “Brent, are you okay?” Kirsty called out.

  No answer. Just the beep, beep of a Road Runner cartoon on his TV.

  “Answer me. Are you okay?”

  Nothing.

  Kirsty opened the door to Brent thrashing about on the floor. “He’s having a seizure. Everybody, get back in your rooms. Help me, Cray.”

  Brent’s fingers locked as his arms flailed back and forth. I was hesitant to move closer as it was one of the scariest things I’d ever seen.

  “Clear a space around him,” she commanded.

  I pulled a chair and a lamp back as Brent kicked strongly. Kirsty knelt down beside him and took off his glasses and set them out of the way. “You’ll be okay, big guy.”

  Brent’s eyes rolled back and then closed.

  “Help me move him onto his side.” She grabbed a pillow and placed it beside his head.

  I cautiously got on the other side and we gently rolled Brent over. Drool oozed out of his mouth and pooled onto the pillow. Gurgling noises deep in his throat sounded like he might die.

  But Kirsty sat calmly beside him and repeated that he was going to be fine. Gradually the seizure subsided and Brent opened his eyes with a blank look on his face.

  “Just a seizure, big guy.” She patted him on the shoulder.

  Brent nodded.

  “Rest a bit.” Kirsty brushed Brent’s hair back and took a tissue and wiped his mouth.

  Brent was pale, but his breathing returned to normal.

  “Cray, help me get Brent to his bed. He’ll want to sleep after this.”

  I got behind one of Brent’s shoulders while Kirsty took the other and we helped him stand. Together, we guided him slowly to his bed.

  “Good job,” Kirsty said as he lay back, and it felt like she was saying it to all three
of us.

  Brent looked dazed, like he’d been in the fight of his life. I didn’t want him to think I was staring, so I turned to the TV, where the Road Runner dropped an anvil on Wile E. Coyote. That’s probably what a seizure felt like.

  Kirsty adjusted the pillow under Brent’s head and I turned off the TV. “Rest well,” she said. “I’ll be down to check on you in a little bit.”

  I exhaled as we shut the door. “Is it okay to leave him?”

  “Yeah, he’ll sleep now. He’s had these tonic-clonic seizures his whole life, so he knows how to deal with them. The first time you see one is scary, but for Brent, they’re part of who he is.”

  I remembered that Stephanie had mentioned Brent’s seizures and said he worked harder than anybody she’d ever met.

  “I’ve got to call the nurse to tell her what happened,” Kirsty said. “She wants us to monitor things with the medication change.”

  “Is there anything else I can do?”

  “No, feel free to go. Brent will be fine and we covered the orientation basics. Sorry we had so much drama for you.”

  “No problem.” I walked down the steps and kept picturing Brent’s seizure. At least it didn’t involve blood. Still, this job was becoming more than I expected.

  * * *

  I GOT OUT MY PHONE AND CALLED RAYNE. “Are you home?”

  “Just back.” I couldn’t tell from her tone how angry she was.

  “Brent had a seizure,” I said quickly.

  “Oh no, I was worried about those new meds.”

  “He’s doing okay now. Resting. Kirsty handled everything. Do you want to get together?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I need some time,” she said coolly, almost like someone I didn’t know.

  “I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  She didn’t respond and I feared I’d lost the connection. “What’s the matter?”

  “I can’t explain.”

  “C’mon, Rayne,” I pleaded. “You owe me an explanation.”

  “No, I don’t. I don’t owe you anything.” The phone went dead.

  I phoned back, but she wouldn’t answer. “Call me!” I shouted at her voice mail.

  What the hell was going on? I felt like an anvil had dropped on my head, too. I’d said I was sorry and needed to talk. Rayne was the one person I was hanging on to, and she’d just let go. I thought she was someone who had things together. Maybe she didn’t.