by R. K. Ryals
Dad’s car made a weird rattling noise, the same noise it had been making for over a year, but it ran and it was my noise now. Even though Nana shocked me the night before, she also opened my eyes.
Excitement zinged through me, twisting my stomach before spreading through my body. For the first time in three years, I looked forward to my life.
Eli’s face swam before my eyes, making me smile. I had a thing for Eli Lockston. The thought of loving him scared me, but not enough to make me run.
My tires—oh, how good it felt to say that—crunched over broken pavement and gravel, yelling, “Time to live, time to live. Breathe, Tansy!”
Later that night, I called Jet.
He picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“It’s Tansy.”
Giggling filled the line, a female voice hissing, and I knew by the sound that my brother was lost. It made me sad.
Saying something to the girl, he moved away, static filling the line as he covered the receiver.
After a minute, he asked, “How are you doing, sis?” with an emphasis on the sis, like he needed to convince the girl he was with that I wasn’t a part of his little black book.
“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”
I could almost hear him shrug across the line. “It’s okay. Been working a lot and hanging out with friends.”
Sitting down on the couch in the living room, I watched as Snow ambled toward me, her snout landing on my knees. I didn’t know why the dog kept following me, but I hoped it was because she saw something in me that I didn’t. I wondered if Nana would let me adopt her once I found a place to live.
“I’m going to move out of Nana’s, Jet. I’m going back to school. To college.”
“What?” The distant way he’d spoken when he answered suddenly sounded less indifferent. Interested. Irritated. “When? You can’t leave Deena.”
“Yes, I can. She’s doing good, and she’s stronger than she looks. She’s taking boxing lessons at a local boxing club, and I think she’s going to be really good at it. She’s only been to a few classes so far, but I’ve caught her practicing when she didn’t know I was looking. And I’ve been gardening. Which is a stupid thing to say because you know I like gardening, but it’s become a bigger thing this summer. It’s reminded me why I liked science so much, the environment, and so—”
“Tansy, stop. You’re babbling. What’s going on over there? What the hell got Deena into boxing? Are you sure that’s a good sport for an angry kid?”
I smiled even though I knew he couldn’t see me. “It’s kind of therapeutic actually, and speaking of therapeutic, I’m going to be seeing a therapist soon. Nana called Eli’s grandfather this morning, and he gave her some names. Friends of his. I start next Monday.”
“Eli?” he asked, baffled. “Therapy?”
“My boyfriend,” I answered. “I think.”
“What the fuck? What’s going on over there?”
“We’re living,” I told him. “Maybe you should have stayed, Jet. It’s been a rough ride, and it’ll probably get rougher, but we’re living. I think you need to live, too.”
“I am living.”
The giggling girl was back, murmuring sweet nothings into Jet’s ear and the receiver.
“No,” I disagreed sadly. “You’re hiding.”
“Tansy—”
“I just wanted to call and check on you. To tell you not to worry about us, okay? That we love you, and that when you get a chance, maybe we can plan a visit? Here. I’m going to check into getting a phone with the money I have left from Dad’s life insurance, so that I have a number I can put on applications. I’ll text you the number when I have it. I got Dad’s car from Atlanta today, and picked up the forms I need to file for school grants. I’m going to start with community college because I got behind when I dropped out of school. A two-year college is a good start I think, and it depends after that where I go.”
“Tansy—”
“I love you, Jet. We’re here if you need us, and now I’m going to hang up because I know how much you like to talk me out of stuff. We’ve got a good plan going, you know?”
Jet’s breathing sounded rough over the line, like he was choking on it. Maybe he was. Maybe the girl he was with had gotten tired of waiting and was going down on him.
“I love you, too, Tansy,” he replied.
Okay, so no going down after all. Resignation filled his voice, and I hoped, a little pride, too. I wanted him to quit hiding. Maybe, just maybe, knowing we were moving forward, would help him do it, too.
When I hung up the phone, I glanced up to find Deena watching me from the hallway and Nana watching me from the kitchen table, her usual stack of paperwork in front of her.
“He’s doing okay, I think,” I told them.
Nana nodded. “You girls want some tea?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
“Okay,” Deena agreed.
Nana had an old teapot, the kind that sat on the stove and whistled when it was done. I made a mental note to buy myself one of those someday. I liked the way it whistled.
Better yet, I liked the idea of having a place of my own with a table to sit at while waiting on the teapot whistle. My table. My teapot. No one to take care of but myself, and a family I knew loved me. A family who looked forward to my visits without expecting anything from me.
FORTY-EIGHT
Eli
For three days, I didn’t see Tansy. She didn’t come to the orchard, and I didn’t reach out to her. It took everything I had not to. As much as I wanted to get involved in her family’s business, I held back. Which frustrated me. Because, in all honesty, I was afraid she’d choose her family over being with me.
And she should.
Staring at the two words she’d written on my punching bag—love and death—reminded me that she didn’t need to choose between us. There was room enough in her life for both.
If she wanted both.
It was the third night, following a tension-filled dinner where my unusually quiet mother ignored everyone and glared at her plate, that my cell phone rang.
I was in the cottage guest room, throwing punches at my punching bag, rap music blaring, when the call came through.
Peeling my gloves off, I stared at the screen. A number I didn’t recognize flashed.
I started to decline it, but then answered it instead. “Hello?”
“And here I figured you wouldn’t answer.”
Her voice threw me, catching me off guard. “Tansy?”
Overwhelming relief crashed over me.
“That hard to tell over the phone, huh?” she asked. “You sound out of breath.”
“I was working out. Whose phone are you using?”
“Mine. I got it yesterday. Nothing fancy. One of those free ones that comes with the contract, but it’s something.” She paused. “You okay?”
“I should be asking you that.”
“I’m good.”
“No more cutting?”
Silence, and then, “Some. Small cuts, but I’m getting better at finding ways to distract myself. It’s the pain. It started out as this emotional thing, you know? But now, it’s like I’m into the adrenaline. My head … I think too much. I start seeing a shrink tomorrow.”
Her words all ran together, which made me smile even though her confession was nothing to smile about. “The garden misses you.”
I was an idiot. Who said things like that?
She laughed. “Just the garden?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. I heard about your grandmother. About you being kicked out.”
More silence.
“I haven’t been kicked out,” she said finally. “I’ve been given a second chance. At being a grown-up.”
I sat on the edge of the guest room bed. “That sounds fun. Want to come be a grown-up with me?”
“Tease,” she accused, her voice full of warmth. “I may have found a job.”
My fingers tightened on th
e phone. “Really?”
“With a landscaping company. Which is a fancy way of saying I’ll be cutting grass and planting things. I could start soon if I get it. It’s not much, but I want it.”
“Good deal,” I murmured. “I have no doubt it’ll be yours.”
“I plan to finish the work at the orchard, too.”
The conversation fell into a black hole.
“Tansy …” My words trailed off, swallowed by the abyss.
“Have you added anything new to the punching bag?” she asked.
“No … but I did talk to my mother.”
“What?” Her voice rose, filling with enthusiasm and anxiety. For me.
“It’s not as exciting as it sounds. She admitted a lot of things I already suspected.”
I didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t ask questions. The silence that followed was long and painful.
“I should go,” she breathed some time later.
“I miss you.” The words spilled free, coming out of nowhere, taking me back. The line went quiet, and I glanced at the screen to see if the call dropped. “Tansy?”
“If you could pick any movie in the world to watch, what would it be?” she asked. It was a terrible, random question, and I loved it because I took it for what it was—a reason to stay on the phone. “And you’re not allowed to say Rocky just because you’re a boxer.”
Lying on the bed, I stared at the ceiling. “Tombstone.”
“Oh, wow! A western?”
“I’m full of surprises. Are we playing a hundred questions?”
“No, just feeling you out a little.”
“Like a test? Did I pass?”
“I don’t know,” she answered. “What do you miss the most? From your life, I mean. Your life before this summer.”
“That’s a trick question,” I replied.
“Why?”
“Because right now I’m not missing anything about it. You?”
“I’m not missing anything either. I guess if there was something to miss I would.” She got quiet, and then in a rush said, “I miss you, too.”
The cottage seemed too quiet suddenly. Too empty. “Will you be at the orchard tomorrow?”
“Yeah. After the shrink appointment.”
I had boxing lessons with Deena’s class, but afterward … “Maybe I’ll see you then.”
“Maybe so.”
“Go out with me,” I said abruptly. “You, me, and no drama.”
“Really?” She sounded uncertain.
“What surprises you more? Me asking you out or the no drama?”
“So you don’t like the idea of jumping off of rooftops?” she asked, sounding playfully hurt.
“With a bungee cord attached maybe … which is always a date option.”
“Uh … no. Drama free and tame sounds great.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“Okay,” she answered brightly, her voice full of anticipation.
It lightened my heart. Which was good because her heart and mine had been too dark lately.
“This weekend?” I asked.
“You’re on,” she answered.
“I’ll bring the bungee cord.”
She laughed, the sound racing through the line, lifting my spirits.
FORTY-NINE
Tansy
There’s a myth that says cats have nine lives. In reality, they have the same amount of lives the rest of us do—one. They are, however, good at cheating death. They are genius escape artists and incredibly stealth acrobats.
I admit, I googled the whole nine lives thing, mainly because my mother and I watched a man throw a cat from the window of a high rise building once.
It was terrible. I cried. Big alligator tears.
Mom called and reported the man because that’s what you did when you saw someone throw a live creature out of a window. You called and reported the son of a bitch.
I don’t know what happened to the man, but to our disbelief and obvious relief, Mom and I saw the cat slink away from the building unscathed with only a slight limp.
“Wonder what life that one was?” Mom asked.
The experience stayed with me.
No human had nine lives, but we had shitloads of chances. Plenty of do-overs. As long as we didn’t die first.
I had no intention of screwing up my do-over.
After hanging up with Eli, I stared at my cell. It was a cheap flip phone; black, simple, and … magic.
Eli talked to his mom. He talked to her!
Whether it went badly or not, talking to her meant he was moving forward.
My heart did a little flip inside my chest.
The past few days had been drenched in changes: a new phone, a job search, and an interview. Nana was a pro at paperwork, and she helped me comb through grant applications for school, over admission qualifications for a two-year college in Atlanta, and through job postings I may have missed otherwise.
She wanted me to succeed. Because of that, I found myself softening toward her.
Now this … Eli talking to his mom.
Having walked outside to call Eli, I returned to the house and found Deena and Nana sitting together, their eyes glued to the television.
“Want to watch?” Deena asked. “It’s a standup comedy sketch. This guy is freaking hilarious.”
“I have a date,” I blurted.
Nana frowned. “Tonight?”
“This weekend.”
Deena turned the volume down on the TV. “With Eli?”
I nodded.
“You’re driving, right?” Nana asked.
“We thought we’d rocket it. Turns out Eli’s grandfather knows someone at NASA, and—”
“Smartass Tansy.” Deena laughed. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”
We looked at each other.
Nana scooted over and patted the cushion, and I joined them on the couch, reveling in the laughter that filled the house. It had been too long.
Deena was right. the comedian was good.
***
The next morning found me sitting inside a cobalt blue waiting room, large pots of fake fern-like plants resting in each corner of the square space. Near the ceiling, a mounted television played the cooking network, and a smiling woman held up two eggs while telling the audience a story about how her grandmother taught her how to crack them. All nostalgic-like. She even teared up.
Here I thought cracking eggs was just cracking eggs. Tap them against the side of a bowl or a counter, pull the pieces apart, and pray none of the shell falls into the mix.
Simple, right?
Not according to the woman on television. Grandma had this whole precise way of doing it: crack the egg against a bowl, pull the pieces apart, and drop the contents into the recipe.
See the irony here?
I’d never been more interested in eggs than I was at the moment, my leg rapidly jumping against the floor, my fingers clenching the waiting room chair.
A door opened, and I jumped.
“Tansy Griffin?”
A pretty middle-aged woman with black bobbed hair, smooth olive skin, a loose, mint-colored pant suit, and an easy smile motioned me toward the back.
Everything smelled new, like the inside of a car dealership.
“I’m Rosa Gomez.” Circling a couch in a cozy room full of soft greens and browns, she took a seat in an arm chair facing the sofa.
I sat, my hands shaking and my foot tapping.
Tap, tap, tap.
The sound was swallowed by thick carpet, vacuumed so that the lines showed in the fibers.
Rosa’s gaze studied me. “Can I see the cuts, Tansy?”
Tap, tap, tap.
Carefully, and because my fingers shook too much to be graceful, I tugged up the hem of my shorts. The worst gashes were healing. Newer, small nicks rode under the older, larger ones.
“Let’s talk about these,” Rosa coaxed, not once flinching at the sight of my legs.
If I were Deena, I
would have taken this moment to glare at Rosa, spouting off something like, “I don’t have to fucking tell you anything.”
I wasn’t Deena, and three years had worn me down. Rosa was a stranger, and where that would have bothered some, it comforted me.
We talked for over an hour, my heart seizing over the memories, over the roads I’d traveled.
“Dads are supposed to love you, you know?” I found myself saying. “It wasn’t that he walked away, but he left. Looking back, he’d always been that way. Aloof and distant. Mom was always the one who talked, the one who sat on the floor with us and played games, and the one who sat at the kitchen table helping us with homework. Dad pampered Mom, but he never looked beyond her. Fathers shouldn’t be like that, right?”
To my horror, tears sprang to my eyes.
Rosa’s gaze softened. “What do you think?”
“They shouldn’t be like that. I want more for my children one day. I don’t ever want them to question themselves, their actions … their existence.” Tears rolled down my cheeks. “Kids shouldn’t feel worthless.”
Rosa nodded. “No, they shouldn’t.”
Cutting, she told me, was about control, a way to manage pain when a person feels like they’ve lost control of other things in their lives.
I’d been there with Dad, Mom’s death pushing me into the managerial role in the house. When Dad died, he left me anchor-less, adrift and out-of-control—the life I’d learned to survive ripped away and placed in my grandmother’s hands, a woman who had become a virtual stranger to us.
“I want to do something with my life,” I said, chin rising.
“Good,” Rosa replied, a genuine smile on her face.
At the end of the appointment, Rosa handed me a rubber band. “Put this on your wrist.”
Rolling it on, I looked up at her.
“Snap it,” she told me, nodding gently.
Pulling it away from my wrist, I let go of it, the pain sharp when it smacked against my skin. It felt good.
“This isn’t going to stop the cutting, Tansy, especially at first, but it will help. When you feel anxious or out-of-control, snap the band.” She handed me a card with two phone numbers on it. “Call me whenever you feel the need. If I’m with a client, I promise to return the call. This was a good start, Tansy. You opened up on your first try, which tells me you find it easier talking to strangers. It tells me you’re ready. You’re a strong young woman.”