Cait

by R. N. Snow

  Then, a boy not too older than me materializes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that you were trying to get the book too. You can have it.”

  “Wait a minute,” I say, realization dawning on me.

  We were both tugging at the same book without knowing. He was the invisible force.

  “Are you alright?” he points towards my face. I’m still holding my nose.

  “I think so, well, except for a swollen nose.”

  “I’m really sorry,” he says again.

  The boy looks very familiar, like I’ve seen him before recently. He is tall and lanky, with blue eyes and freckles around his eyes. His hair is ginger colored. With features like this, I doubt I’d forget such a face I think I have recently seen it. So, I wave it off my mind.

  “Take the book, please. I used to have it before, but I misplaced it. I’ll just wait for them to restock it.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “Yeah. You’ll love it, trust me.”

  “Really? Thanks.”

  I take it from him and drop it into my basket.

  He stretches out his hand. “Jeremy Reynolds here.”

  “Hold up! You’re Georgia’s brother, right? I knew it! There was something familiar about you. Maybe it’s the hair!” I don’t even wait for him to confirm my question. The resemblance is too much for me not to have figured out before he told me his name. Not that they look very much alike. It’s mainly the same uncommon hair color. I chalk it down to the reason I think he looks familiar.

  He laughs shortly. “Yeah, I’m her brother. Are you her friend?”

  “I’m her chair partner in class.”

  “Ahh, Caitlyn. She’s told me about you.”

  “Oh? Not bad things, I hope.”

  “Georgia never speaks ill of anyone.”

  I chuckle. “Now, I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. But it’s been nice meeting you. I’ll tell her that I saw her brother at the bookstore and how he tried to ruin my nose.”

  “Please, don’t. She’ll accuse me of not being a gentleman.” He’s teasing, and we both know it. I think I like him.

  “You just came to buy novels?”

  “More or less. I got my textbooks ages ago.”

  “Textbooks?”

  “Yeah, I’m still in school. Twelfth grade.”

  “Which school?”

  “Our school.”

  “Our school, like Winchers High?”

  “Um-hum,” he says, smiling at me, his hands in his pockets.

  “How come I’ve never seen you?”

  “Well, because I’m good at hiding,” he says, and we laugh. I find him very interesting. Then, I remember that I didn’t come here alone. I look at my wristwatch, and the time is 5:47 p.m. I’ve been in this particular aisle for more than thirty minutes. Talk about interesting.

  “Gotta go. My friends are waiting outside.”

  “Alright. See you later.”

  “Yeah. See you.”

  I go towards the register and get in line to wait for my turn. When it gets to me, I pay, have my books packed in a polythene bag by the cashier, and exit the store.

  My friends are waiting inside the car. Music is playing from the stereo, and Leah has her legs on the dashboard, smoking a cigarette.

  “Where have you been?” Charlie yells.

  “Buying books,” I reply.

  I get into the car, and we are homebound.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Tyler and Hazel are in the living room when I get back.

  “Hi Hazel. Hi Ty. How are you?”

  I’m in a cheerful mood this evening. It’s not hard to find out the reason. The red-haired and freckled Jeremy.

  “We’re good. Cait, we’ve been waiting for you,” says Tyler. Only now do I notice that the atmosphere is not cool. I wonder what would have happened between the time I left for the bookstore and now.

  “Alright. Can I put these books in my room first?”

  “Go ahead.”

  I go up to my room, drop the bag of books on my table, unsling my bag, and go back downstairs. I take a seat on one of the sofas and stare at my siblings expectantly.

  “I’m here,” I say.

  Tyler reaches for the remote and switches the TV off, then turns to Hazel and I.

  “Sis, Cait, I want to come out clean to you all.”

  Hazel and I exchange glances but say nothing. I remember my talk with her this morning.

  “I’ve been hiding in the closet for so long, and it has become too suffocating. You both are all the family I have, so I ask that you do not judge me.”

  Silence.

  “I’m gay.”

  “What the fuck!” Hazel jumps up from the chair, her eyes wide as saucers. “You are what?”

  “Hazel, please calm down. Please.”

  But Hazel is still screaming and cussing. I, on the other hand, am just there, staring at the both of them. I remember that first night at Winchers Crest Diner, when he came in with that mysterious guy. We all thought that they were just friends. Who would have thought that Tyler, quiet and reserved Tyler, was gay? And by the looks of things, he plays the male role or whatever it is they call it. I have an interesting family, I swear. Can Hazel please stop screaming? It’s his life for Chrissake. Gosh! Firstborns and drama! Eeek!

  “Hazel!” I scream. She turns and looks at me, as if she had forgotten that I’m in the room with them.

  “Can you calm down and let him talk, please?”

  “Did you just say ‘calm down’? Are you deaf? My brother is gay, and you say I should calm down?”

  “He’s my brother too, and I’m not shouting down the roof. Let’s hear him out, please.”

  Tyler has his head between his hands and is staring down at the floor. My heart goes out to him. When Hazel sits back down, he raises his head up.

  “I didn’t choose this life. It just happened.”

  “What just happe—”

  “Hazel,” I warn.

  “Please, go ahead,” she says, shaking her head.

  Tyler continues. “Like I was saying, I didn’t choose this life. This is something I had been fighting with for as long as I can remember. I tried fighting it by dating girls, but it always turned out messy. Since I started being with Nick, I feel like I’ve found my purpose. With him, I’m happy, and our relationship is going okay. We fight like every couple,” he laughs and then continues, “but we always make up. Hazel, I know that you’re very upset with me. Perhaps disappointed too, but I expected all that and more.

  “This is my life, sis. I can’t keep living it to please people. Neither can I keep hiding in the closet because of what people will think. I’ve been staying away from home for long periods of time because I was carrying this around secretly. Apart from the fact that I want to be free to embrace my sexuality, another reason I’m coming clean to the both of you is that I don’t want you hearing it first from somebody else. That would be the height of disrespect.

  “Nick is absolutely nice. And I promise you both that if I think or feel that this is not the right thing for me, I wouldn’t be saying all this. I’m not asking for permission; all I ask is that you both give me your support. Please.”

  “Hazel?” I say, prompting her. “He needs our support.”

  “Give him yours!” she snaps.

  “Hazel, I don’t understand why you’re mad at him. He’s not a child anymore. If this is who he is, it’s his life to live. Even if you’re straight, nothing stops you from supporting those who are not. You do realize that the fact that you’re angry would not make Ty start becoming attracted to females. Let’s not push him away, please.”

  I talk, plead, and nudge Hazel for almost an hour, while Tyler just looks at the ceiling. It is obvious that he needs our approval to
be fully happy about it. I know what it is like to have your life taken away from you, and I don’t want it to happen to anyone else, let alone my brother. As I talk to Hazel, I can’t help but wonder why people are so narrow-minded. I also wonder how Hazel would feel if she introduces a guy to us and we disapprove, not caring about her happiness.

  In the end, she grudgingly approves.

  “Well, I can’t change who you are. If this lifestyle is what you’re comfortable with, go ahead.” Then, she stands up and walks upstairs to her bedroom.

  Tyler and I sit down in awkward silence for some minutes, before I go to sit on the arm of his chair and put one arm around his neck.

  “Ty, no matter what, you’re my brother, and I’ll always love you, no matter what. I support you wholeheartedly, as long as this makes you happy. Do not dwell too much on Hazel’s reaction. When she sees that you really want this and are going for it, she’ll just have to accept it. Okay? Now, smile for me? Come on, smilee.”

  And he does, a genuine smile, while hugging me tightly.

  “Thanks, Cait. I’ll always love you too.”

  Hazel does not come down to make dinner. Tyler and I fry up pancakes, and we set some aside for her.

  Throughout the weekend, the only time I see Hazel is when she comes downstairs to find something to eat and then goes back up. She refuses to talk to anybody, and we leave her be.

  The next week passes by in a blur, nothing spectacular happens, no flashbacks or new clues. I wanted to go see Aunt Deserae, but I was told that visiting hours were over and given an appointment to come and check on her in a week’s time. I have secretly looked out for Jeremy, but it seems like he’s elusive. I do not tell his sister about our encounter; I’m still trying to read her and, so far, she seems nice. She is always helping me out with confusing schoolwork and telling me about the rules.

  However, the week after turns out to be eventful.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Tuesday, 3:00 p.m.

  Yesterday, Leah told me that she was going to her dad’s grave and asked if I wanted to come. I said yes. Since she told me her secret, we have gotten closer. We talk about a lot of things, including our fears. I feel privileged that she asks me to go to the cemetery with her.

  Presently, we’re in her Mustang, with the hood down. Rock music is blasting from the car stereo, and we sing along while whooping occasionally. She stops at a shop. The sign says, “FLOWERS AND LOVERS.” I think it’s a corny name for a flower shop, but then who cares.

  “I’ll be just a minute,” Leah says, and goes into the shop.

  A short while later, she is out with freshly cut lilies, their long stalks intact. She places them in the back seat and gets in. The cemetery is on the outskirts of the town. It takes us forty-five minutes to get there. I know because I looked at my watch.

  Leah parks behind other cars there. As expected, we are not the only ones coming to see our deceased loved ones. She reaches for the flowers and locks up the car. The gates of the cemetery are black, huge, and very imposing. Above the gate, bent metal has been welded to form the words, “WINCHERS CEMETERY.” We walk into the grounds, and my gosh, so many dead people! There are headstones of different shapes and sizes for miles and miles. For some reason, the sight depresses me. Following Leah, I pick my way through the graves, careful not to step on any, because I find doing that disrespectful. Meanwhile, I look at my watch again. This is not somewhere I want to be when darkness falls. Approximately five minutes later, we’re standing in front of Leah’s dad’s grave.

  He has an impressive headstone, if that can be said about headstones. It is made of black, shiny marble. The words engraved on it are in silver:

  HENRY WINDELLE

  1982 – 2014

  SON, HUSBAND, FATHER, SOLDIER

  YOU LIVE ON IN OUR HEARTS

  Leah places the lilies on the grave, then folds her hands together in front of her, looking at the headstone. Then, she kneels in front of the grave.

  “I’m sorry Dad, for not coming for a while now. I’m here now. I miss you, Dad. Every day, it seems like the day you left me and Mom. Mom is doing fine. Between the two of us, we’re doing our best to preserve your memory. Dad, meet my friend, Caitlyn. I’ve known her for more than two months now, but it seems like I’ve known her forever. I told her about the scum Victor. And I felt better afterward. She’s fighting her own battles, and we’re there for each other. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. You taught me to be strong, and I’m going to make you proud. I promise.”

  She runs her hands across the surface of her dad’s grave. I don’t think I’ve witnessed something so painful before. I don’t know when my eyes start to water, but I let them. I can’t imagine the pain Leah is going through. I’m sure it hurts more when there are lots and lots of memories. I wait for her while she weeps, and I don’t touch her. Though on her request, I feel that I’ve invaded her privacy enough. After crying for a while, Leah picks up the wilted remains of the last flowers she had brought previously and stands up. She turns abruptly and begins to walk away. I follow her, saying nothing.

  It’s seventeen minutes past five as we exit the gates of the cemetery. Leah gets inside, throws the wilted flowers into the back seat, and waits for me to get inside before starting the car. No words are spoken as we leave.

  Getting back into town, I see another signboard that says, “WELCOME TO WINCHERS TOWN,” but this one has a second line that says, “HAVEN FOR ALL.”

  “I miss my dad, Cait. I miss him so much it hurts.”

  “I know, darling. I know. Keep being his strong little soldier. That’s what he would have wanted.”

  “It’s hard being a strong little soldier. Sometimes, it’s hard trying to be strong.”

  Tell me about it.

  “But you have to be.”

  “I know. Please, don’t mind me.”

  “No, it’s okay. We both know that you’ll be fine. You’re the strongest person I know.”

  “Thanks, babe. Let’s listen to some music. They say it’s food for the soul.”

  And just like that, the mood is light again. We stop at an outdoor café where we order coffee and doughnuts. While we eat, we talk about some of our schoolmates. We arraign and sentence them in our café court. Of course, Victor goes first. He is found guilty, and his head is decapitated. We shoot some and hang others. It’s a silly game, but it lifts our spirits and we’re already looking forward to school the next day.

  Leah drives us home, and I remark that this is the first time I’m having a chauffeur.

  “You’re such a silly girl,” she laughs.

  “A silly girl who loves you.”

  “Yeah, there’s that. I love you too, hun.”

  As is routine, she drops me in front of my driveway, I go inside, and surprisingly, see Hazel and Tyler laughing and talking in front of the TV.

  Wonders, they say, shall never cease. I thank whatever or whoever made this possible. I would have bet my weekly allowance that Hazel wouldn’t speak to Tyler for months.

  Greeting them, I go up to my room and prepare for bed. There’s school tomorrow, and I’m tired. I fall asleep.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Today is the day I was told to come and visit Aunt Des. I’m hoping against hope that there has been some marked improvement. Since I was not allowed after visiting hours, I make sure that I set out early. At noon, twenty minutes to visiting hours, I catch a bus to Winchers Hospital. This is the second time I’m visiting since I was discharged. If I had my way, I wouldn’t be coming at all. But this is for Aunt Des, so I have to do it. The intensive care unit is on the fifth floor, so I ride the elevator to get there. I meet the receptionist who of course recognizes me and tells me to go in. She also tells me that Dr. Allisus is inside.

  “Okay. Any changes yet?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the doct
or. I’m only a receptionist.”

  “Alright, thanks.”

  I knock and without being told to come in, walk into Aunt Des’s hospital room, RM 104. Dr. Allisus is making some recordings on her chart. The same ugly contraptions are still there, ugly but vital. He briefly turns and goes back to his writing.

  “Hello, Miss Grove. Welcome.”

  “Good day, Doctor. Thanks.”

  I walk close to the bed where my aunt is lying. She looks deathly pale, definitely worse than the last time I saw her. Tubes are crisscrossing her body like the last time too.

  “How is she doing, doc?”

  “I’ll let you know in a while. Let me finish up with my charting.”

  “Okay.”

  When he is done, Dr. Allisus hangs the chart on the foot rail of her bed. “Let’s go to my office, shall we?”

  Not knowing what to expect, I follow him. His office is one floor up. We take the elevator. Getting to his door, the doctor fishes his key out from his ward coat and turns the lock. He invites me to sit down and takes a seat himself.

  “Miss Grove, first off, how are you doing?”

  “I’m not fully recovered yet, but hopefully, things are looking up.” If I get a penny for every time I’ve been asked this question, I would have been a wealthy teenager by now.

  “That is good to hear. That reminds me. Have you said thanks to your first aider?”

  “First aider? I’m just finding out I have one.”

  “Oh? You don’t talk with your sister?”

  “I do, but she doesn’t like talking about my accident. She is of the opinion that it would upset me.”

  “Telling you about the person whom you owe major thanks to, who brought you here alive, is hardly upsetting,” he says with a slight frown.

  Silence. Then, he resumes. “By my estimate, just minutes after you swallowed those pills, your aunt came calling. It was a Saturday, and you and your sister were at home. Your aunt came in to check up on you as she was used to, so Hazel, who was in the living room went to call you. You seemed asleep, and your headphones were plugged in. She came up to you, shook you, but got no response. Then she saw the container of pills on the bed—empty.” I wince when he says “empty.” “Anyway, she ran downstairs and told your aunt what happened. It was your aunt who carried you outside, wailing.