The Clay Lion

by Jahn, Amalie

  “What kind is that one?” he asked me of the dog whose cage I was finishing.

  “His name is Chuckles,” I responded, smiling at the boy. “He’s a pure bred mutt.”

  The father considered me once, then a second time, and a look of recognition passed over his face.

  “I know you,” he said.

  “Yes,” I smiled. “I know you too. We met in the hospital courtyard.”

  “Yes, I remember,” he said solemnly.

  “Can I see this dog, Daddy?” the boy asked suddenly.

  I looked to the father for acceptance. He nodded in my direction. I called to Chuckles, who happily bounded over to the pen door, his tail wagging enthusiastically behind him. I clipped a leash to his collar.

  “Would you like to take him into the yard to play with him?” I asked.

  “Yes!” the boy exclaimed, reaching for Chuckles’ leash.

  The father and I followed the boy and the dog into the fenced yard on the side of the building where they proceeded to romp around with great enthusiasm. The father and I stood together, side by side, watching them both running wildly together.

  “His name is Ethan. I haven’t seen him smile like this in ages. Not since before the accident. I think he loved Alexis even more than I did, if that’s possible.”

  Not knowing how to respond, I stood silently and waited for him to continue.

  “You were right you know,” he announced finally.

  “About what?” I responded.

  “That it gets better. Not a lot, but a little. We’re here because, well, the boy just needs some joy in his life. I’m still not able to spread a lot of joy around yet, but I thought, maybe a dog…” he trailed off.

  “He looks happy,” I commented.

  “He’s getting there. And how about you?” he asked, turning from Ethan to look at me.

  “I’m… I’m okay. My arms work again,” I laughed, holding them high in the air, “so there’s always that. I think I’ve finally made peace with things. How they are. How they are supposed to be.”

  He considered me for a moment. “You’re one special girl,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Thanks,” I replied, my heart suddenly feeling as though it was being squeezed in a vise.

  Ethan and Chuckles collapsed into a ball of laughter and barking in the middle of the field and we could not help but laugh along with them.

  “I think we are going to be welcoming a new member into our family,” the father said.

  “Well then, I believe we need to go fill out some paperwork,” I replied smiling.

  Within the hour, Ethan, his father, and Chuckles were ready to head home together. I gave them my email address and they promised to keep me updated on how Chuckles was adapting to life as a part of their family. In reality though, it was not Chuckles I was interested in keeping tabs on. Instead, I was more concerned with making sure that Ethan continued to heal. As they were leaving, the father pulled me aside.

  “I don’t believe that it was an accident that you were here to help us continue our journey today. You keep popping up in my life, just when I need you. I think you might be some sort of guardian angel,” he laughed. “Anyway, thanks. And good luck.”

  “You too,” I replied, embracing him in a much needed hug, and with that, they were gone.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  The following morning, I awoke to a chirping sound emanating from the depths of my purse. I pulled myself out of bed, rubbed the sleep from my eyes and dumped the contents of my bag on to the floor in an attempt to find my ringing phone. Sarah’s number was displayed on the screen.

  “Hello?” I said sleepily into the mouthpiece.

  “Brooke! Where are you? You were supposed to meet me here at 8:00!”

  Panic surged through my veins. I had no idea where I was supposed to be or what I was supposed to be doing. I faked it.

  “I’ll be right there. I overslept. What are you wearing?” I asked in an attempt to gain some insight into where I was headed.

  “Um, my suit,” she responded. “Duh.”

  I could not figure out why Sarah would be wearing a suit. It was summer. A suit would be far too hot. I wondered if she had some job interview that she had asked me to attend with her. Perhaps I was the one with the interview.

  “I don’t have a suit Sarah,” I commented.

  “What in the world is wrong with you?” I could feel her frustration through the phone. “You have a bunch of suits! Just wear the purple one you wore last week and get over here! Our lesson starts in ten minutes!”

  I tried to envision what suit I owned that was purple. And then it dawned on me. Sarah was not wearing a business suit. She was wearing a bathing suit. And we were taking lessons.

  Swimming lessons.

  The only place I could think of where we could afford to take swim lessons was the YMCA. The closest one was over twenty minutes away.

  “I’ll head right out,” I told Sarah. “I’ll see you at the Y in twenty minutes?”

  “Okay. I’ll let Garrett know you are going to be late.”

  I dropped the phone back into my purse and cursed at myself for neglecting to make a note of my swim lessons on my calendar. I found several bathing suits hanging behind my bathroom door and quickly chose one to put on. I threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt over top, grabbed a towel and my purse, and ran down the stairs.

  My mother was slipping on her heels for work as I entered the kitchen.

  “I was wondering where you were,” she commented. “It’s a swim morning, isn’t it?”

  “Apparently,” I responded, grabbing a banana and a bagel as I squeezed past her through the open kitchen door.

  “Have fun! See you this afternoon. And hey! We’re having cheeseburgers on the grill for dinner. If you would cut some vegetables for kabobs, that would be great!” she called after me as I ran down the driveway.

  The drive to the YMCA seemed endless. I was forced to stop at every light along the way as if my car was alerting each traffic signal to turn red as I approached. At first, I could not understand what had compelled me to take swimming lessons, and then it occurred to me that perhaps I was trying to reconnect with Charlie. Perhaps he was there.

  As I pulled into the parking lot, excitement coursed through my body. The anticipation of seeing Charlie was more than I could handle. By the time I made it to the pool deck, I was physically shaking. I scanned the complex for Sarah and easily found her sitting on the edge of the pool with a group of seven other adults. There was a man in the water who appeared to be our instructor. He was not Charlie. As I made my way over to the class, I inspected the area further in search of him. I was dismayed to admit that he was not there.

  I sat beside Sarah on the edge of the pool. Her beaming smile was infectious. I could not recall a time when I remembered her looking so radiant.

  “What?” I said.

  “What?” she replied.

  “What’s got you so smiley?” I asked.

  “You know what,” she said coyly.

  I wanted to scream at her that I definitely did not know what, but I knew that I could not, so I continued to act aloof.

  “He asked me!” she whispered conspiratorially.

  “Oh he did?” I replied.

  “Yes! To concert tomorrow night…”

  “Miss Wallace,” the instructor interrupted with a grin, “since you decided to skip the first fifteen minutes of class, how about you hop in and demonstrate the scissor kick we learned last week for the group.”

  “Uh, sure thing,” I replied, easing myself into the water. I had absolutely no idea what a scissors kick was and I prepared myself for the humiliation that would surely follow my exhibition. I floated on my back and kicked my legs in the only way I knew how.

  “Seriously, Miss Wallace?” the instructor admonished as I righted myself at the far end of the pool. “Miss Vanguard, would you like to assist your friend here?”

  “I’d be happy to Garr
ett,” Sarah replied, beaming once again.

  Sarah positioned herself in the water gracefully on her side and began kicking her legs, one on top and one below, in a scissor like motion underneath the surface.

  “Very nice,” Garrett complimented her as she lifted herself back on to the deck. “Miss Wallace, would you like to try again?”

  Imitating what Sarah had just demonstrated, I made my way back down the length of the pool to where the rest of the class was seated.

  “Not bad,” he smiled.

  “Thanks,” I said, finding my place beside Sarah once again.

  As the rest of the class took their turns in the water, Sarah leaned over to me and said, “He’s amazing. I can’t believe he asked me out!” She was looking at Garrett, giddy like the proverbial school girl. Suddenly, I realized why we were there. Sarah was not there with me. I was there with Sarah. Charlie would not appear at the pool. We were there because Sarah had a crush on Garrett. As disappointed as I was that I could stop looking for Charlie, I was happy for Sarah. She deserved to find love.

  The remainder of the lesson went by quickly. I found myself enjoying my time in the water, the cool luxuriousness of it wrapping itself around me as I floated through the pool. I could not help but think of Charlie and the way his body moved with such grace and power down the length of the pool at his championship meet. Although I knew that my swimming ability would never compare to his, I enjoyed the satisfaction I felt with regard to my own improvements.

  As the lesson ended, my classmates and I dried off on the pool deck while Sarah and Garrett lingered together in the shallow end. I watched them surreptitiously as I redressed, placing my t-shirt and shorts over my bathing suit. Long after the rest of the group had filed off to their respective cars, Sarah emerged from the water, radiant, the morning sun glistening on her skin.

  “Well?” I asked as she dried off.

  “We are going to some barbeque at his friend’s house tonight and then tomorrow, we are driving into the city for the concert,” she said. She paused to watch Garrett gathering his next class, a group of rowdy four and five year olds. “I never imagined all those months that I watched him across campus that I would meet him here at the pool with you, taking swim lessons. I am so glad you decided to drag me here this summer!”

  “Me too,” I replied, absorbing the reality of her comment. For some reason, I was the one who wanted swim lessons. I was the one who brought her, not the other way around. I had absolutely no idea what would have compelled me to seek out swimming lessons, but if it resulted in Sarah’s happiness, I was glad that we had signed up.

  “I’m going to go say goodbye again,” Sarah said, sliding her flip flops on her feet as she crossed the pool deck.

  I waited for her in the parking lot, still contemplating my motives. I was sure that the reason for the lessons had something to do with Charlie, but he was clearly not present. Perhaps he had been there during previous lessons. When Sarah finally appeared, I pried her for more information.

  “Seemed like there weren’t as many people here today as usual,” I began.

  “Really? Everyone in our class was here.”

  “No, I meant around the pool in general. The other classes too. Where there instructors missing maybe?”

  “I didn’t really notice, but I don’t think so. Garrett, James, Meaghan and Wendy were all here I think. That’s everyone.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I guess you’re right,” I replied, deflated by the news that Charlie was not one of the regular instructors.

  “So,” said Sarah, disrupting my thoughts, “do you have shelter hours today or do you want to come over? I feel bad being excited that the Miltons are on vacation, but I sure am happy to have a free week!”

  “I don’t think there is anything on my calendar,” I said. “I’ll go home and shower and then I’ll head over.”

  “See ya,” she called as she headed towards her car.

  “See ya.”

  Sarah had been the Milton’s babysitter since she earned her Red Cross babysitting certificate in seventh grade. Every summer, Sarah would watch the Milton boys, Jack and Henry, while their parents were at work. She loved the kids. Sarah was going to be a great mom someday.

  I tried to push thoughts of Charlie out of my mind for the rest of the day. Sarah and I hung out at her house, making tuna salad sandwiches for lunch, watching horrible daytime television, and picking out appropriate outfits for both a barbeque and trip into the city. It was fun listening to Sarah talk endlessly about Garrett, but it only served to remind me of all I had lost. By the time Sarah was ready to leave on her date with Garrett, I was ready to go home and think about something else.

  After chopping the vegetables for the kabobs and cleaning the grill for dinner, I found myself pacing the kitchen, anticipating my mother’s arrival home from work. The loss of Branson and Charlie plagued my thoughts, and I was desperate for the distraction of my mother’s chatter. Twice I thought about searching for information about Charlie on my tablet, and I was relieved to hear my mother’s car pulling down the driveway as I headed for my tablet a third time.

  Over dinner, my parents noticed my distraction.

  “You okay?” my father asked, pulling squash from his skewer.

  “Yeah. I’m just having a sad day. Missing Branson and stuff. You know.”

  “We know,” replied my mother, shooting me a sympathetic glance. “Well, tomorrow’s Tuesday. Perhaps Dr. Richmond will have some insight for you then. His suggestions seemed to have been helping so far.”

  “They have,” I agreed, unaware of what I was affirming. “It’s hard not to think about what I’ve lost sometimes, I guess.”

  “We all lost a lot, but think of everything you are getting ready to gain. Don’t get so bogged down in the past that you forget to look around at what you have,” said my father wisely.

  “Thanks guys,” I said, smiling at them both. “I’ll clean up.”

  I carried my father’s words with me for the rest of the evening. He was right. I had no idea what college would bring. New studies. New friends. Maybe even someone new to love. The only thing I knew it would not bring was Branson. It was a hurdle I was going to have to continue jumping over, day after day. I prayed that with time, the hurdle would get a little lower and more manageable, until finally it would be nothing more than another step along the path of my daily life.

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  I arrived at Dr. Richmond’s office five minutes before my scheduled appointment. I flipped passively through a magazine while I waited to be greeted. When at last Dr. Richmond opened the adjoining door, he smiled warmly, ushering me in to his office.

  The space was exactly as I remembered it from before my second trip, which helped to diminish my anxiety. I sat in the cushioned armchair I had become accustomed to during those visits, and Dr. Richmond immediately took the seat on the opposite side.

  “Welcome back,” he opened, smiling broadly.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “How are you adjusting?” he asked.

  I was taken aback. I did not know to what he was referring. I answered ambiguously.

  “Fine?” I said.

  “No problems with changes in the timeline?” he asked, perplexed.

  Now I was the one that was confused. I did not understand why he was asking about my timeline. How could he know about the changes? I started to speak, and then, thinking better of it, closed my mouth sharply. When I did not respond, he began again.

  “It’s okay Brooke. You told me. I know about your trip. Or should I say trips?” he finished, winking at me.

  “I told you? When? Why?”

  “I’ve been excited for this session,” he replied, laughing. “Here,” he said, handing me a bottled water from the table and choosing one for himself. “Let me fill you in.

  “Your mother brought you to me a little over a year ago. Branson’s health was deteriorating rapidly and you were all so very raw. Your mother suggested that per
haps it would be a good idea to have someone to talk to professionally outside of the family and you recommended me. To this day, your mother has no idea why you chose me specifically, but of course, we know.

  “For the first couple of months, you were difficult to read. You were making progress with regard to Branson, but it was obvious that you were dealing with other issues that you were unwilling to discuss for some reason. During one session early last fall you made a comment about something happening ‘the first time.’ You realized your slip immediately and tried to recover, but it started the wheels in my brain turning none-the-less.

  “During the following session, I confronted you about the fact that you were hiding an important detail of your life from me that was keeping you from making the progress that I was expecting from you. Under the cloak of doctor – patient confidentiality, you confided in me about your trips. I had a hunch about what you were going to tell me, but I would have never dreamed that you had traveled back to save your brother a total of three times.

  “Since opening up to me about the trips, you have made terrific progress, Brooke. I think it has truly helped that you have at least one person with whom you can openly discuss your choices. I know that you have chosen to keep that information from the rest of the people in your life, a decision that you and I disagree on. But for now, I am glad that you can discuss things here with me instead of not at all. So, back to my initial question, how are you adjusting?”

  It took me several seconds to recover from what Dr. Richmond revealed about our relationship. I was surprised by the relief I felt knowing that my secret was not completely my own.

  “It’s been interesting,” I said. “Luckily, I’m still me and I can make assumptions about the choices I think I would have been making for the past year and a half, but there are a few things that have thrown me for a loop so far.”

  “Like what?” Dr. Richmond asked. “You’ve told me a lot. I might be able to help.”

  “Well, I’m going to State in a few weeks, right?”

  “Right. You were accepted into their pre-med program in veterinary medicine. You received a full scholarship for tuition. What else?”