Saving Mr. Terupt

by Robert W. Buyea

  “You did a good job, Jeffrey,” Mom said, rubbing my back. That’s what your mom is supposed to say. Even if you stink, your mom is going to tell you that you did a good job.

  I shrugged.

  “You’ll get him next time,” Dad said. That was a little better than telling me I’d done a good job. I was definitely hoping for a next time.

  “Bye, Ree,” Asher said, hugging me. “I wuv you.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. He was the first person to make me feel better. “Bye, buddy. I’ll see you when I get home.” He and Mom left, and Dad went to wait in the lobby for me.

  That was when Coach Brobur plopped down beside me. “Well, Jeffrey, you may have lost the battle, but you can still win the war.”

  I looked at him sideways. I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Doesn’t Mr. Smith teach you anything in that social studies class? Wars consist of battles. Today you lost the first battle, but you’ll see Mr. Winshall again before the season’s over. You still have a chance to win the war.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Now you’ve got something to look forward to, so stop feeling sorry for yourself and keep your head up. No creature won in its struggle for existence by wallowing in self-pity.” Coach Brobur smacked me on the knee and then rose to his feet just as Coach Terupt came over. The two of them shook hands, and then Terupt took a seat next to me.

  “You know the old guy’s right,” Terupt said.

  I nodded.

  “I heard what he was saying to you. He was talking about attitude. Losing is supposed to hurt, Jeffrey. You care a lot about this. But I can tell you I learned more from my losses than I did from any of my victories. The hard times like these make you better—on and off the mat—as long as you have the right attitude about things.” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze.

  I stayed there for a bit, sitting and thinking. I thought about how Old Man Brobur was growing on me, and how I was already looking forward to my next shot at Winshall and my chance to win the war. I thought about how I hadn’t even told Peter congratulations. I thought about the sad look in Coach Terupt’s eyes when he mentioned hard times on and off the mat. I thought about the gang and wished there was a way for things to go back to normal.

  Last December I witnessed a truly romantic moment when Mr. Terupt dropped down on his knee and asked Ms. Newberry to be his wife. I hadn’t given up on Charlie yet, not like I had my so-called friends. I held out hope that this December could take hold of his heart and move him to do something special.

  I’d managed to find Charlie alone on a few different occasions in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Not to my surprise, each of those occasions happened out in the barn around milking time, and I was glad for them. It wasn’t like I was looking to spend any extra time with Danielle. She was as moody as ever, and we still hadn’t talked about the party. But Charlie always liked my company, though he did keep me away from Bessie when it came to milking her now.

  “I’ve been saving up my allowance money to get something for Mom this Christmas,” I said to Charlie one evening. I was standing in the alleyway, near the stall where he was milking.

  “Really?” He took the machine off the cow, grabbed his pail, and moved on to the next udder.

  “I was thinking maybe some jewelry,” I said. I followed him, and this time I stepped into the stall beside him. “You know they have that stuff on mega sale around the holidays.”

  “You don’t say.” Charlie wiped the cow’s bag clean and then slipped the machine on her.

  “Really. I guess a lot of men buy it for their wives—or soon-to-be-wives,” I said.

  “Humph.”

  I stood next to the cow, petting her neck as I kept talking. “It was this time last year when Mr. Terupt popped the question. Betcha he got a good deal on that ring.”

  “I’m sure he did,” Charlie said.

  “Are you planning on getting Mom anything?” I finally asked him. “I think this Christmas should be a night we remember forever. Hint, hint.”

  “As a matter of fact, I have been saving up to get her a little something,” he said.

  My eyes widened as I bent forward. “Really?”

  “Of course!” Charlie exclaimed. He touched the cow’s tickle spot and ducked. Her tail came whipping around and almost caught me. “She just wants to make sure you’re paying attention,” he said, grinning.

  Apparently I wasn’t, because I hadn’t even realized it was Bessie that he was milking and I was petting.

  “Ol’ Bessie here knows all about it,” Charlie said. “You should ask her. She and I’ve been talking about it for a while. Haven’t we, girl?” He patted her on the side and then took the machine and moved down the line.

  I stood there with Bessie, looking her in the eye. She didn’t say anything, but she told me what I wanted to know. I think I was starting to develop that farmer’s extra sense Danielle had mentioned, because I had a feeling Charlie was finally going to do it!

  Christmas Eve is a very important day in our family. Dad, Grandpa, and Charlie work all morning to take care of the cows and get the farm settled, while Mom and Grandma prepare the house and the feast. I usually like to help in the kitchen, but I was feeling wiped out and nauseated, so much so that I actually stayed in bed. I couldn’t even try to hide it and make out like I was fine.

  “Your mother and I can handle the kitchen,” Grandma said. “We’ve done it for a number of years. We don’t want you around the food if you’re feeling crummy anyway. Get some rest so you’re refreshed for church later.”

  “I hope it’s not the flu,” Mom said.

  “A little rest, and she’ll be better,” Grandma promised.

  I didn’t argue (not this time). I slept until after lunch, which was when Anna and her mother showed up. I could hear the two of them getting busy right away, helping with the meal preparations downstairs. I decided to get out of bed. I was tired of being tired. I kept my distance, though. Staying out of each other’s way was something Anna and I had been doing a good job of ever since that party.

  It took a lot out of me, but I managed to get candles arranged in each of our windows, and I swept the floor in our entryway. Right about the time I finished with those two tasks, we all commenced getting ready for church. The glorious meal that Grandma and Mom had slaved over all day would be ready for us when we got back.

  There were a lot of us going to mass, so we took several cars. I rode with Grandma and Grandpa. Terri rode with Mom and Dad. And Anna hitched a ride with Charlie. She was up to something, I just knew it, but I didn’t get to spend much time worrying about it because Grandma showed me how smart and aware she was yet again.

  “Danielle, it’s important we remember that all this hoopla is because we’re celebrating the Lord’s birth. This is a time for us to be grateful and generous. Not a time for us to be moody, and especially not a time for us to be bickering with those we hold closest.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She had noticed the distance between Anna and me.

  “Whatever it is, I’m sure the two of you can work it out. If I haven’t showed you how to do that, then at least I know Mr. Terupt did.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She was right—about everything.

  Grandpa pulled into the church lot and parked. “Your grandmother’s a smart old lady, Danielle, even if she can be stubborn as a mule sometimes.”

  “You hush up, Alfred.”

  Grandpa looked back at me and smiled. “That’s why we love her,” he said. Then he leaned over and pecked Grandma on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, sweetums.”

  “Oh, all right,” Grandma huffed. “Let’s go, you two.”

  —

  Church was torture, and I know Grandma would have another heart attack if she ever heard me say that, but it was true. Lying down all morning hadn’t done me much good. I felt horrible sitting in that pew. I couldn’t wait to get back home. In the midst of the service, I actually did someth
ing I never thought I’d have the nerve to do. I got up and went to the bathroom, which just so happens to be one of Grandma’s biggest pet peeves.

  “People should use the bathroom before church so they don’t have to get up in the middle of it,” she’d say. “I think they do it on purpose, so they have a reason to take a break. Well, the Lord knows what they’re doing.”

  “A man’s got to go when a man’s got to go,” Grandpa would say, egging her on.

  “Then a man should tie a knot in it until after church!”

  To hear Grandma talking like that almost gave me a heart attack. But she was serious, the bathroom could wait until after church, so it took no small amount of courage for me to get up in the middle of Christmas Eve service. It was either that or risk my bladder exploding during the second reading. I didn’t dare look at her as I made my way out of the pew. The mere thought of her angry stare was enough to terrify me. Instead, my gaze landed on someone else in the congregation—Mr. Terupt! And Mrs. Terupt was with him. What a surprise. As yucky as I felt, I still managed a small smile and a wave. Mr. Terupt could do that to a person.

  After the Mass concluded, my family stopped to say hi to them. “With a baby on the way, we knew it was time to find the right church,” Mr. Terupt told us. “We figured what better pick than yours.”

  “There’s a lot of old birds in this bunch,” Grandma said, “so it’s nice to get some good-looking young blood in here for a change.”

  I should’ve been laughing along with everyone else after Grandma said that, but I wasn’t. Instead, I turned and headed to the bathroom—again. I had to go, plus I was dying of thirst, and the only place to get a drink was either from the holy water or the bathroom sink.

  By the time I returned, Mr. and Mrs. Terupt were already gone. The only person waiting for me was Grandma, and she didn’t say a word, which meant she was madder than the dickens.

  After that night in the barn, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day couldn’t come fast enough. I know for most kids, the excitement is about what you might get, but for me it wasn’t about that at all. I couldn’t wait for my mom to get her present.

  Too bad Danielle prevented that from happening. And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

  After excusing myself from the table one too many times during Christmas Eve dinner, Mom got up and followed me. I had tried to tough it out like Grandma, I had tried not to ruin everyone’s holiday, but I couldn’t keep it up. One close look at me, and Mom knew. It wasn’t her farmer’s sense, but her mother’s sense that told her there was something more going on with me than the flu.

  Mom and Grandma brought me to the hospital straightaway. The good thing about going to the emergency room on Christmas Eve is that it isn’t too busy. I only went to the bathroom once while waiting. Then a nurse came out and called my name. Mom and Grandma and I followed her to an empty room on the other side of the double doors. She asked Mom a series of questions, but I didn’t do a very good job of listening. My body was too tired for that. I was too wiped out to even care when she took my hand and did a finger stick. Then she left us alone, and I got up to use the bathroom again.

  When I returned from the restroom, I found the nurse was already back and waiting for me. “The doctor will be here in just a few minutes,” she said. “In the meantime, he’s asked me to start an IV and get more blood.”

  She stuck the IV in the back of my hand, pumping liquids inside me, and at the same time pulled the extra blood out of my arm, but I still didn’t care. Just as she was finishing up her poking and prodding, the doctor entered. He waited for the nurse to leave, and then he sat down and wheeled his stool closer to Mom and Grandma. I knew then he was about to tell us something that wasn’t the best news or easy to hear. And for the first time since arriving at the hospital, I actually did a good job of listening.

  “Danielle has type one diabetes,” he said.

  Silence. No one said a word. Neither Mom nor Grandma moved an inch. They sat there like stone statues. And since they didn’t have anything to say, the doctor started talking again, telling us more about my situation. But by then, I was done listening. All I remember is that when he stopped the next time, Mom and Grandma began to cry. For Grandma to shed even a single tear made me wonder if the doctor had just told them I was going to die. I’d heard of diabetes, but I still didn’t know what in the heck it meant to have it.

  Well, for starters, it meant having two bags of fluid pumped into my body through that IV. And after that I wasn’t so darn thirsty. It also meant spending the night in the hospital. And it meant sitting through almost six hours of diabetes education with Dr. Barnes, the endocrinologist, on Christmas Day. I imagine she wasn’t hoping to spend her Christmas at the hospital, either, but she didn’t complain. Dr. Barnes put on a Santa hat and a cheery face and we made the best of it. Mom and Grandma stayed by my side the whole time. Dr. Barnes told us there was a lot everyone in the family was going to have to learn—and she was right. She talked to us about my pancreas and glucose and insulin and shots—I had to give myself plenty of those now.

  “I just don’t understand,” Grandma said, shaking her head. “I think I had an uncle who had trouble with his sugars when he got older, but he’s the only person I can recall who’s had diabetes in the family.”

  “That would have been type two diabetes,” Dr. Barnes explained.

  “Oh. And that’s different?” Grandma asked.

  “Yes.” Dr. Barnes continued, “With type two a person is still making insulin, but it’s not working as well anymore. It is often linked with obesity. That type of diabetes can be helped with weight loss and a better diet. Danielle, on the other hand, has type one, which means her pancreas has pretty much stopped making insulin. Type one cannot be reversed. This is something Danielle will have to deal with for the rest of her life.”

  After hearing that, I understood why Mom and Grandma were upset. Dealing with something for the rest of your life does make it a pretty big deal, but the good news was that having diabetes doesn’t mean you’re going to die, not as long as you take care of yourself. The thing I had to be most careful about was not letting my blood sugars get too low or too high. The goal was to maintain a reading on my meter between 70 and 100. If it ever happened that I got too low, then I could pass out and even fall into a coma—and Lord knows we’d had enough of those with Mr. Terupt. My sugars going a little high wasn’t quite as serious. If that happened, I was likely to feel weak and tired, maybe spacey, and probably irritable, but that was about it. However, I didn’t want my sugars to stay high because, over the long run, that’s bad for you. And if they ever got too high, I could end up in a coma that way, too. I think I spent most of my fall with my sugars going up and down, especially when I got locked in that closet with Peter. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the heat rising, but my sugars spiking that made me flip out.

  —

  Being diagnosed with type 1 diabetes was a lot to take in, but I wasn’t angry, or even all that sad. I was actually happy to finally have an answer for what had been going on with me, and relieved to learn I’d be feeling better now that we did know. And here’s something I realized. It was time for me to be strong like Grandma—for Grandma.

  “Danielle, I just don’t get it,” Grandma said when we were back home. She knelt with me by my bedside. “Why you?”

  “Because I can handle it,” I said. “I’m glad it’s me and not anyone else. Maybe I didn’t get the diabetes gene from you, but I’ve still got a lot of you in me, Grandma. I can do this.”

  Grandma pulled me into another hug. “You’re amazing,” she said. And then she started tearing up again.

  “Grandma, stop that crying already,” I said. “If you keep it up, I might start to think you aren’t all that tough anymore.”

  She sniffled and chuckled and then led us in a prayer.

  Dear God,

  Thank you for sending Dr. Barnes our way. She was a saint and helped all of us a great deal down here, but you be
sure to keep an eye on Danielle. As long as you take care of her, the rest of us will be all right.

  “Grandma, I’m fine,” I whispered.

  “Don’t interrupt. I’m praying.”

  I sighed. “Don’t forget the Terupts,” I said.

  “Ah, yes.”

  And, Lord, we also thank you for bringing Mr. and Mrs. Terupt and their bundle of joy that’s on the way to our church. Do continue to take care of those wonderful people.

  And lastly, I pray you help Danielle repair things with Anna, because now is when she’ll need her most.

  Amen.

  Grandma gave me a kiss on top of my head and then left me alone. I used to think Mr. Terupt was the one who knew everything, but Grandma wasn’t any different. Maybe she was beginning to show signs of forgetfulness, but she didn’t miss much. A minute later, there was a knock on my door.

  “What did you forget?” I said, guessing it was Grandma coming back to tell me something.

  It wasn’t Grandma. It was Anna. She walked across the floor, but before she even got to me I met her halfway, and we pulled each other into a hug that I won’t ever forget. It was one that took me all the way back to Mr. Terupt’s hospital room. I thought of Jessica and Alexia, and my arms ached to hold them as well.

  The storm had hit, but was it over? I hoped so.

  I was the first one awake on Christmas morning, which is how it’s supposed to be—kids getting up early while moms and dads stay snuggled in bed—but normally, I like to sleep late. It’s important for a girl like me to get her beauty sleep. But I decided to get up early and get the coffee going for Mom and me. I was ahead of my years with both my sleeping habits and my love for morning joe. I’m a sophisticated woman who was trying to be a nice and thoughtful daughter. I even baked a batch of muffins.