by K. F. Ridley
After dropping Taylie off at her house, I stop by the Birches to pick up the meal Lucinda has for us. She cooks dinner for us on occasion and even though they aren’t blood relatives they’re the only real family we have. Their house is several miles from Dad and me. They’ve lived there for as long as I can remember, but they go out of town a lot so we don’t see them often. I think they have a condo down south or something. They’re pretty well-to-do. I pull up to the big flat stone house always with a manicured garden. I ring the doorbell which plays a whimsical melody. The door flies open.
“ Come in dear.” Mrs. Birch apparently knew it was me. She grabs me and hugs me while squeezing the breath from my lungs.
“Hi.” The words barely push pass my vocal chords because of the limited air supply. She’s short and round, but stout as an ox.
She pushes away from me, and looks me over as if I’m livestock, checking to make sure nothing is broken.“How are you feeling?” she asks as if I would lie to her.
Before I can respond, Mr. Birch comes from around the corner. He puts me in a big bear hug. Marvin is as short and round as Lucinda, both with flaming red hair and freckles which would make it easy to play dot to dot on their faces. They are both a little quirky at times.
“Ashe, is that you? How’s my girl? Feeling well, are we?” Here they go again. Just like Dad. Why is everyone so worried about my health? I drink that disgusting medicine every morning like I’m supposed to. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been sick with even a cold.
“I feel fine,” I respond trying to get beyond the topic of my health.
“How’s school?” Mr. Birch asks.
“Great.”
Lucinda comes out of the kitchen holding a brown paper bag. “Bake this up at three hundred and fifty degrees for about thirty minutes.”
“Thanks so much,” I say as I take the casserole from her. I love it when she cooks for us. I could smell an appetizing scent coming from bag. I’m not much of a cook and her food tastes like something I would imagine my mother making. I head for the door.
“Leaving so soon?” Marvin asks.
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell Henry‘hello’ for us.”
“I will, and I promise I’ll stay longer next time. I have a lot of homework to do.”
“Of course, dear.” Both of them hug me as if I’m theirs to keep, pressing the casserole into my ribs. They’re so good to me and that makes leaving them difficult. They’re the grandparents I never had.
When I get home, Dad is in the backyard burying something again; the usual for our house where everything is unusual. I shake my head as I watch him through the kitchen window; he looks so consumed with what he’s doing. I know he isn’t normal. Whatever is in his mind seems to keep him prisoner. I feel sorry for him sometimes.
I wonder if my mother hadn’t died, would he have become this? At times, I can hear him talking to her as if she were here in the flesh. He’s imprisoned by the love he had for her. Sometimes, I think he’s losing his mind, but he’s high functioning at work and is apparently pretty good his job. He’s received a lot of awards from his research and developed medications that have saved the lives of many people. They say there is a fine line between genius and insanity. Dad teeters on that line every day. I worry one day he’ll fall onto the side where he could lose himself.
As I sit eating the vegetable casserole, Dad meanders into the kitchen. Dirt on his pants as usual, bringing with him a musty outdoors smell saturating his clothes.“How ya feelin?” he asks his standard question.
“Fine, Dad.” Same conversation. Same tone.
“Your mother is real proud of you, Ashe.”
“Thanks, Dad.” He speaks as if he’s talked to her personally. “The Birches said to tell you hello.” I watch him eat. He’s in his own little world. Thinking. Conjuring. Creating. I wonder what could be going on in there, in his mind.
5
I lay in bed resisting the morning with thoughts of his sharp features piercing my mind and the rays from his teal blue eyes burning through me. He smells of evergreen, fresh, and wholesome, but I know that no matter what, Rowen is off limits.
As I wake up, I feel the warmth of the sun hitting my face through the window. My skin is tinged, but comfortable.
“Ashe! Ashe!”
The frantic calling of my name pulls me out of my comfort, out of my thoughts of what might have been a wonderful dream.
“Ashe! Ashe! Ashe!” Dad is in a panic.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I rub my eyes as I run down the basement stairs. His lab is in shambles. Someone broke into the house during the night.
“We’ve got to call the police.” I pick up the house phone and start to dial 911. In one swift movement, he pushes the phone out of my hands onto the floor smashing it into pieces before I can finish dialing.
“No! No!” he insists pacing back and forth running his hands through his dark brown hair that is in wild disarray. He begins dialing his cell phone.
“Who are you calling?” My hands are quivering with the thought of someone being in our house without us knowing it. I slept through it all. The back door to the basement was apparently left unlocked and whomever it was entered at their leisure. There wasn’t any forced entry.
“Dad, who are you calling?”
“Marvin, get here as soon as you can. Someone’s broken into the lab.”
“Why are you calling Mr. Birch?” Dad’s face is mangled in worry.
“He’ll know what to do, Ashe.”
“The police will know what to do.” I try to bring him to reason.
“What do you think they would say if they saw a set up like this? How would I explain it?”
I can see his point. He picked up his cell phone again. “Who are you calling now?”
“Into work.” He may have been late often, but he never missed a day on the job.
“I’m not going to school today. I need to stay here and help you get things cleaned up.”
“Yes, you are. I would feel better if you did. You don’t need to miss class. That will give me something else to worry about.” He looks up his face caught in an expression of surprise and runs outside into the backyard. I follow behind him. “Thank God,” he sighs.
What in the world is he worried about out here? We have a large yard and nothing but national forest behind us. Wilderness. Lots and lots of wilderness. What is it?” I ask confused.
“Nothing,” he responds as he goes back inside and I follow behind him. He’s keeping something from me. I hope he’s not into anything illegal. No way, not Dad.
In a fluster, he looks around the basement at shattered glass and upturned tables. He’s a ball of nerves, falling apart. Marvin arrives to help with the mess. He’s aware of Dad’s strange ways and it doesn’t seem to bother him. Sometimes, he helps Dad in the lab. I guess they’re kind of like kindred spirits. Marvin Birch is much older than my father and has his wits about him.
“It’s going to be alright, Henry. We’ll get this cleaned up,” he reassures Dad, whose hands are still shaking.
I call Taylie to let her know I’m not going to make it, but her car is still in the shop and I don’t want her to have to miss school too. So, I listen to Dad and go to class.
“Ashe, don’t worry. I’ll take care of Henry. Everything will be alright.” Mr. Birch gives me a wink, his voice comforting and calm. I would probably be in the way if I stayed.
6
As I wait in The Recess, I search the room from a corner booth. I hate to admit I hope to see Rowen again. I wonder if he is watching me. He isn’t here, but I can feel his warmth in the air which is fresher than usual. Maybe, I’m wishing it, dreaming the air is different.
I have to keep my head out of the clouds. I can ’t get emotional. I can’t let myself get too close to anyone, but I can feel myself getting caught up in the thought of him.
I have Dad to think about, but the thought of Rowen sparks another side of me; a side I don
’t know. I didn’t see him today. Is that why I feel so empty? Is that why my heart feels bare and exposed?
When I arrive home I head straight for the basement. “Everything seems to be in order now and accounted for,” Dad announces. His lab is back to normal and he’s much calmer. He’s still sweeping up small flecks of glass from broken flasks off the floor.
“You need to make sure you lock the back door from now on,”
I instruct as I wonder whom would do this.
“I thought I did. Marvin helped me get everything back
together.” He tries to capture every speck of glass, as he looks
down with each word. Eye contact isn’t something he’s good at. Tonight, sleeping will be difficult. I’m hoping the break-in is an isolated incident, but the whole thing has me on edge. I’m able to get my next assignment completed, “The Family Portrait,” Dad and me holding a picture of my mother, done in oil, 11x14. I don’t see how Professor Bran expected us to paint that in two nights and then only three days for it to dry. He’s rushing us; speed painting.
I’m not pleased with my work, but I’ll have to turn it in anyway. When I start to fall asleep, I hear the staircase creaking.
There’s one plank that has a distinct cracking sound when you put
your weight on it. It’s loose and Dad has never fixed it. I ease out
from underneath the covers and go down the basement stairs.
Someone is down there. I can hear them moving around. Holding
my breath, I continue down the steps and turn on the lights. Dad and I scream in unison. “What in God’s name are you
doing, Dad? You scared the crap out of me.” He’s trying to catch
his breath.
“I came down to check on things. Couldn’t sleep,” he huffs. “After what happened last night...you had me worried. Don’t
do that again.”
“Sorry, Ashe. I think I’m going to sleep down here tonight,” he
says as he points to the worn leather recliner in the corner of the
room.
“Whatever, Dad. But keep this light on.” I turn on the desk
lamp in the corner and turn off the florescent lights. I walk back
upstairs and back to my room relieved it was only Dad. I stop in the
doorway. What if they come back and Dad is down there by
himself? So, I sleep on the sofa in the den in case he needs me.
Watching over him is my lot in life, my purpose and sometimes it
makes me feel trapped.
A part of me thinks Taylie really has it made. She’s able to do
whatever she wants, with whomever she wants, whenever she
wants. I feel tears seeping into my eyes, but I don’t know why I
have the urge to cry. Only if my mother hadn’t died, things would
have turned out so differently.
I’ve never felt so emotional about it before. In the past, I didn’t
let myself get emotional about it, about anything. I bury my feelings
because life is safer that way. It’s easier to accept responsibility, but
for the first time in my life I want something else. Something I
can’t have. Someone I can’t have.
Professor Bran stands in front of the class looking over us
reeking of boredom. He lectures on the mixing of oils today and we
turn in our assignments. Jackson painted a portrait of five cows and
a pig sitting on a couch. I have to say it’s pretty good.“It’s an
abstract.” Sarcasm reels from him. “The pig is my cousin.” “What do you think Professor Bran will say?” I ask. “Don’t really care. These assignments are ludicrous.”
Jackson’s talent is obvious, so I can understand the reason for his
frustration.
The Professor walks toward us, picks up Jackson’s portrait and
smirks with his right brow raised. He plops it back down on the
desk and turns to look at mine which is boring and uneventful.
Aesthetically speaking, it’s not done nearly as well as Jackson’s.
This project proves I’m not the best artist in the world, but I do love
to paint. Watching the Professor’s face, he gives my artwork a
quick glance.
“Perfect,” he says. I can’t believe his comment. Jackson
wrinkles his forehead looking my way.
The professor strolls back to the front of the room, collects a
black bag from his desk and leaves.
“That fool. He wouldn’t know talent if it kicked him in the
face.” Jackson takes a quick look back at me realizing his
insinuation. “No offense.”
“None taken.” He’s right though. Jackson has more talent than
most of the class. Anybody could see it. “Don’t let it bother you.
Maybe, he’s jealous. We haven’t even seen any of his work yet.” “I can’t drop the class. Guess I’ll tough it out.” And he storms
from the room.
I meet Taylie at The Recess, the local coffee shop. She’s
waiting for me at the table that has become our usual spot. I scope
the room, trying to hide my motives from Taylie, but I don’t see
him.
“Things settle down at home?” she asks.
“Yeah. Still shakes me up a little.” I answer scanning the room.
He’s not here. Well, if he is I don’t see him.
“I’ve haven’t seen him either.” Taylie must notice my
preoccupation.
I don’t respond and pull an apple out of my bag attempting to
act nonchalant.
“What do you think that was all about, at the library? One
minute he’s following me and the next minute he’s gone,” I ask.
Taylie knows what’s on my mind so there’s no sense in trying to
hide it anymore and she knows a lot more about guys than I do. “Guys. You can never figure them out. Don’t even try. I wait
for the next one to come along.” She grabs her stuff. “Gotta run.” Taylie has another class, so I wait for her. After she leaves, I
bury myself in Romeo and Juliet. Taylie isn’t gone long, and I’m
getting into the study mode, when the air around me becomes
warmer and fresher. He’s here. I can sense him. I look up and he’s
pulling out the chair across from me, helping himself to a seat. “Hi, again,” he says as if he expected me to be here. “Have you been watching me?”
“I waited for your friend to leave so we could talk.” “Well, here I am. Alone. Well, technically I’m not alone
anymore.” I start to babble. My nerves get the best of me again.
Palms sweating, heart pounding, and my breath begins to leave me. “I had to talk to you alone. I heard what happened at your
house last night.”
What did he say? I’m floored and for a moment scared to
death. Chills run down my back and through my gut.
“Who are you? How do you know where I live? No one knows
about last night. Did you...?” I tremble as I sense my wooden chair
softens like quicksand and I sink. My voice shakes as if I’m sitting
naked in below zero temperatures.
“It wasn’t me, but I do know who was there.”
“Who was it? Who are you?” Everyone looks at me. I guess
I’m yelling. “Who are you?” I insist, my voice a little quieter. I
catch the polish of his eyes and suddenly fear rushes from me. For
some strange reason I feel safe with him, but I’m still angry because
he knows something I don’t.
“The Birches. They’re friends of mine,” he explains. “I’ve never seen you there.” I relax a little more as I lower my
voice.
�
�They told me what happened. Be careful, Ashe. There
are....well, there are...people out there who will hurt you. Who will
hurt your father.”
“Okay, now you’re really scaring me. Who are you? And what
do you know about the other night? Why are you following me?”
Questions spew from my mouth like word vomit.
He hesitates, “To protect you.” He places his hand on my arm
and looks down at me.
“Why do you need to protect me? You hardly know me.” I rub
my arm still warm where his palm had been.
He doesn’t disclose anything.“Trust me. Can you do that?” His
voice is calm and deliberate, soft but strong, soothing but
energizing. I only know his name, his first name.
“I trust you,” I say without wavering, without thinking twice.
The quivering is gone. “But I would like some answers,” I add as
my logic decides to become a part of the conversation.
“Not now,” he says.
“I’ve never seen you at the Birches.” I don’t doubt him, but I
try to get some answers and right now it’s like pulling nails from
hardened asphalt.
“I’ve known them all my life,” he informs.
“What do you know about my father and who would want to
hurt him? He’s harmless.”
“Not now, Ashe. There’s so much you don’t know.” That’s
obvious.
“If not now, then when?” Dad and I are in danger so you would
think I would have a right to know what’s going on.
“Be careful,” he says still unwilling to divulge information,
still moving my pulse in a race it cannot win.
Rowen stands up as I remain sitting, staring up at him. He
towers over me and I feel protected, but I don’t know why. Taking
my hand, he pulls me close to his chest. I stand up gazing into the
abyss of blue that has now swallowed my soul. His lips linger
without an invitation.
“Ummm, am I interrupting something? Excuse me?” I hear
Taylie’s chipper voice, somewhere in the background, breaking up