by Sophia Rey
And I still wanted an answer from him about why he had dropped me without so much as a word. I’m stubborn that way. It’s one of my Aspergers traits. “Stubborn as a bull dog,” Mom says. The bull dog part came from an experience when I was nine and I’d had an argument with a girl from my school. She’d stolen my purse, along with a comb, my wallet with about $2.00 in it, and a deck of cards that were in it. Not much, but it meant a lot to me. I made a big deal of it. Called her a big thief and told all my friends what a mean person she was. I told anyone I could what I thought of her. We’d been good friends before all of this took place. I thought she should apologize if she wanted to be my friend again. But she didn’t. I’d told Mom about it after a few weeks went by, and she just asked, “Did you apologize?”
I responded, “I didn’t do anything wrong. She took my purse.”
“But you gossiped,” Mom gently rebuked. “You told her what a thief she was. You called her mean. You—”
“But she was mean.” I cut her off. “She was stealing.”
“Yes, but if you want your friend back, you might try to talk to her. I know it doesn’t seem right. She did steal from you, but she might feel bad, too. You never know what might happen if you just open up a conversation with her.”
I never did.
I didn’t want to take that chance again. In this case, I didn’t see anything I needed to apologize for at all. Not a thing. He was the one who didn’t show up for things. He was the one who made other plans during our plans. I regretted that I didn’t know where he lived. If I did, I’d drop by and leave some cookies or a note or something – at least try to see him. But what good would it do? He’d probably decided he was too old for me.
Despite all the reasons for not contacting him, that stubborn side of me was feeding off the weak side. I was tired. I was lonely. And I missed being hugged, being kissed, having conversations. So, I pulled out my phone and began typing.
“Hi Mason. I miss you. I miss your arms around me. I miss talking to you. We had so much in common. I’m lonely without you. I know you don’t feel the same, but we could still be friends. Please text me and let me know how you’re doing.”
I liked the last part. It sounded so casual.
Part of me said not to send it. Knew that If I did I’d fall back into the habit of looking and watching and waiting for his texts. But in the end I pressed SEND. The other part of me rationalized that it would only bother me for a few days, and then I’d be busy with work and my shifts at the hospital to care. I had to try. It was the bulldog in me
.
CHAPTER 23
AMY CAME OVER FOR some pre–Christmas dumpster diving. It was something we both enjoyed, and we hadn’t done it in months, so I invited her when she texted back the morning after I’d texted her. I had noticed there were some bikes by one of the dumpsters and asked if she was up for a day of diving.
One of the best things about living in a nice apartment complex is good dumpster diving. I don’t mean you actually dive into a dumpster, but people leave all kinds of good things they don’t want to take with them when they move near the dumpsters. Most things are in pretty good shape, too. So, Saturday morning Amy was coming over to look at some bikes I’d rescued and put in our garage before we had fun snooping into all the other piles around the complex. Afterward, we decided to take the three bikes she’d chosen back to her house and eat some lunch. For an hour, we enjoyed catching up.
I asked her, “So, what’s your plan with the bikes? Are you going to use all of them, or just fix up to sell?”
“Oh, normally I’d fix them all up to sell, but that one cruiser’s super cute. I love cruisers! Can you believe we found such a cute one? And all it needs is new inner tubes. I always replace the inner tubes, anyway, since you never know how old they are…and I like to get those thorn proof ones to avoid flats. I used to get so many flat tires before I switched over.” Amy’s eyes sparkled. She always sparkled when she talked about any of her passion projects.
“You’re going to have to teach me how to do some of the restoration work sometime. I’d love to maybe make that a business, too.”
“Well, we’d probably better go out more often, then, Em. There won’t be very many good dumpster diving days left before the heat comes back.”
“You’re right. I guess we’re required to spend more time together, huh?” I laughed. It was surprising how being around level–headed and sparkling Amy lifted my spirits. Possibilities always filled my head and I went home feeling like a new person.
Today was no exception. Driving home, I felt light and happy. Didn’t even think about the text I’d sent Mason for a full half–hour…and it had only been two days. That was what I called progress!
When I walked in the front door, I could hear Mom on the phone, upset. Quickly, I hid my body behind the wall so she wouldn’t see me. I didn’t want to eavesdrop, but I also didn’t want to leave her alone when she sounded so upset. The smile left my face as I heard her voice getting louder and louder. “No, Tarin. I will not borrow money from Ray! He keeps track of every penny I spend and never lets me forget it. You remember when he rifled through my cupboards, don’t you, and added up the total for everything he found there? Then he told me I was wasting my money, buying so many bottles of Vitamin C? It’s not his business how much vitamin C I take!” Pause. “I know he makes $200,000.00 a year and can afford to help me out. It’s just the price I have to pay to get it is too high. I’m tired of him looking down on me.” Pause. Her voice came back a little rougher, like she was fighting back tears. “It’s been harder than I thought, with Greg in the hospital. The bills just keep coming in…and they just keep getting bigger.” Pause. “Well, remember when May was in the hospital for heart surgery last spring? I called every day for a whole week because Ray was so upset about his wife being sick. Now, Greg’s in the hospital, fighting for dear life, and Ray hasn’t call at all. The thing that hurts the most is that he doesn’t care enough to even call and ask how we’re doing. It’s not right to treat your sister that way, Tarin.” Pause. When she started talking again, she didn’t even try to hide the tears in her voice anymore. “I know we’ll get by. It’s not that. It’s just that the kids have been through so much. Their dad’s in the hospital. They’re still not sure if he’ll even survive, much less be more than a vegetable if he lives. Kai has become so angry and depressed. Emily’s still having a hard time getting over her break–up with Mason. And you’ve seen Carol and Maurine. Those poor girls have been so neglected and abused! I just wanted to give them one day where they could all forget. I just wanted one day where I could be a hero to all these kids, and give them a Christmas vacation.” A deep sob escaped her throat. “Look, Tarin. I need to go.” She dropped her phone and ran to her room, shutting the door behind her.
Wow, Mom’s having a worse time than I thought. I pondered as I stood there. She should know it’s okay if we don’t go to Prescott this week. We all understand. There must be something I could do to help pay for a trip, if it was that important to her. Maybe Amy and I can get together more often; start selling sooner than I’d planned on.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of crying. Not Mom this time, but Maurine. I hunted the apartment, finding her and Carol in their room. They were both crying and looked really upset. I wondered if they were upset because of the canceled trip, or if they thought the conversation meant they were a burden, or something else.
“What’s wrong?” I ventured. “In a few weeks we’ll probably have enough money to go somewhere. You don’t need to worry.”
“It’s not that.” Carol wiped tears from her eyes. “Your mom’s so upset about us kids not being able to go to Prescott that she’s actually falling apart. We’re just not used to seeing a mom who actually cares about her kids. Our mom barely knows we exist.”
I didn’t know what to say. She was right; their mom didn’t care. Carol sensed my hesitation to speak and asked, “When do you think we’ll be able to go?
Is there any way we can help her?” She sounded so genuine, so unlike Carol. I’d only ever seen her worry about Carol and Maurine before. And she sounded so mournful, too.
I made sure my voice was filled with optimism, so they’d feel better. “Maybe in a few weeks.” Maybe being here with my mom could help them learn what parents should be. And maybe realizing my mom cared about them would help Carol realize she was worth more than the lifestyle she’d run to when she left her mom. I was beginning to understand just how much these two girls were damaged emotionally, and I hoped we could help them.
CHAPTER 24
ON THURSDAY I WOKE up to the sound of my phone buzzing. It had been a week since I’d texted Mason, and I was cycling back into sadness, but I decided to make the most of the day. I was going to go to school and then to the library where I could be alone for a couple of hours, something I was really looking forward to.
Before school my phone kept going off, buzzing about 15 or 20 times. My spirits soared. It could be Mason. It COULD be. I knew it! But when I checked it was only a series of group texts from a study group at school.
By nine I decided that I wouldn’t check my phone for four hours. That way I‘d have four hours to think any more texts could be from Mason. But at noon Mom sent me a text that I had to read. And her text was the only one I had; nothing from Mason. My mood was in serious decline. Mom wanted me to go home after school and make dinner for Kai and Maurine because Carol’s work schedule changed and she had to work after school. Carol was waitressing at a diner called Molly’s. It was good for her to work, and I knew that, but it meant that with Mom working and at the hospital so much, and Carol working, I was the one who got to take care of Kai and Maurine most of the time. Mom texted that she’d put spaghetti ingredients in the crock pot before she went to work so dinner would be easy. But then she wanted me to take them to the library with me after they ate. “Oh,” the text read, “and please make sure they do their chores.” Mom had assigned them both a little 15 minute job for each day.
Things didn’t go exactly how Mom expected they would when I got home. Kai complained because he didn’t want spaghetti. He wanted to make pancakes instead. I told him he couldn’t because we didn’t have any eggs. “Tell you what. I’ll borrow an egg from one of the neighbors, but you have to sweep the floor first.”
“I’m tired of cleaning,” he complained.
“You need to—”
“I know, I know,” he interrupted with a whine, “but my legs are sore. I’ve been chopping strawberries, and we had to run during P.E. today.”
I turned my attention to Maurine, telling her that she needed to clean up the bathroom like Mom had asked. She was in her room, which was a mess. Mom had explained to me that kids who were sexually abused sometimes wet their pants. Maurine wore pull–ups at night, which was no big deal, but she left them on the floor in her room. I asked her to clean them up. “You make us do everything,” she moaned. “I’m sick of doing chores. I never had to do any chores before I came here. You’re so mean!”
Every time I opened my mouth one of them would interrupt me. I told them, “Me and Mom shouldn’t have to do all the work around here,” but they just stared at me.
Inside, I gave up. When Kai figured out that I wasn’t going to get the egg for pancakes he refused to sweep the floor. And Maurine decided that this was her cue to skip cleaning the bathroom. The house was a mess, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. Even though everything else was going wrong, I still needed to go to the library. They complained about that, too. “Why can’t we just stay here alone?”
“Believe me, I’d like nothing better than to leave you here,” I snapped. “Do you think I want to hear your cranky voices in the car? But Mom said she wants me to take you, so you’re going!”
Maurine had an angry, defiant look on her face, but she put her eyes down when I caught her eye. She looked tough and vulnerable at the same time. I realized then that she might actually be afraid to go to the library, or anywhere outside the house where someone might hurt her.
CHAPTER 25
THAT NIGHT I WAS watching TV with Mom when her phone rang. The voice on the other end was so loud that I could hear the entire conversation as though they were in the room. “May I please speak with Mrs. Fletcher?”
“This is she,” Mom answered, her voice tinged with hope. She always sounded hopeful when the hospital called.
“Mrs. Fletcher, this is Dr. Sorenson from Mercy Medical Center. I’m calling because we’re concerned about your husband’s progress.”
Mom seemed to deflate. “I thought he was doing better.”
“Yes. Yes. That seemed to be the case a week ago, but now his eye movements aren’t as frequent. We’re afraid he’s slipping into a deeper coma and we’re concerned as to his timely recovery. And as long as I have you, I can’t find the paperwork for a Do Not Resuscitate form. Have you signed a DNR?”
“Sign a DNR?” Mom was livid. “What do you mean? A week ago he was doing better and now you want me to sign a DNR? This is an outrage! Let me speak to your supervisor.”
She put the phone on mute and turned to me. “I can’t believe they’re making me deal with this over the phone. I’m there every day. Why can’t they speak to me in person?”
Another, quieter doctor got on the phone then and she turned her attention to it. After a moment, I heard her say, “Mmmm hmmm. Mmm Hmm. Another MRI and he’s still not responding to light and sound?” Pause. “Another week? Yes. Of course. I don’t care about the cost…No…We’ll handle it. Yes. Okay. And Doctor? I have a favor to ask. I would really appreciate it if you could talk to me about these important matters in person. Yes…yes…That would be fine.” Another long pause. “Are you sure? A DNR is just a standard procedure thing? That makes me feel a lot better. Thank you, Doctor.” She looked relieved.
When she hung up the phone a moment later, I couldn’t wait to ask, “Is Dad dying?”
She sat next to me and put her arm around me before answering, “Doctors aren’t always right. I’m always hearing about someone who had cancer and was told they were going to die, then their tumor just disappeared. You know Dad. He’s stubborn.”
“He gets that from me,” I smiled a thin smile. Another concern crossed my mind. “What about the medical bills?”
“Even though Dad didn’t like Gardens very much, they do have great health insurance,” Mom’s voice was soft. “And you know what? Some of his co–workers have even given up their sick days for Dad. That means he gets paid for a lot of the days he’s been away from work.” Her words were comforting and encouraging, but deep down I knew she was trying to put on a good face for me.
************
Aunt Tarin stopped by a few days later and handed me the keys to her old Impala with 250,000 miles on it. “It’s not much to look at, Em, but it runs. You can use it until it dies.”
“Is it really mine?” I was shocked.
“Yep. Your mom has told me how much you’ve helped get her to the hospital and to work, then getting everyone else where they need to be. Your uncle and I want to help. This way, your mom can get herself around and you can just help with the other kids.” She lowered her voice like she was going share a secret. “And maybe have a little fun, too, Em.” She winked.
“Wow, thanks Aunt Tarin. You’re the best!” I gave her a hug and asked her if I could try it out. After she nodded, I ran outside and drove. For a half–hour I reveled in the quiet of the car, listening to the motor rotate as I drove around. Nothing could take the smile off my face. No more driving Mom to the hospital. No more driving her to work. The sense of freedom was exhilarating.
Driving was very soothing to me, which was a good thing because I was doing a lot of it. As soon as we got the car, I got the job of driving Kai and Maurine to and from school. Maurine was terrified of riding the bus with all of the older children, and since Kai went to the same school, he came along for the ride. Then there were the trips to the store and, of cour
se, the hospital. Mom tried to go to the hospital even more often after the DNR incident, so I was frequently driving to the hospital with food for Mom, books for her to read to Dad, and papers for her to grade.
A couple of days after getting the car, the car kept needing a jump. We had it looked at to see if the battery needed to be replaced. The mechanic told us the battery was good, but the alternator was bad. The alternator’s the thing that gives the juice to the battery, hence the need for jumps. Not the end of the world, but it would need to be in the shop for a day.
While the car was in the shop Mom had to take me and Carol to school, take Kai and Maurine to school, then go to work herself. That was the morning things seemed to fall to pieces. I realized that when Mom said we needed to get out the door in 15 minutes, she meant business, but Kai and Maurine did not. After she warned them several times that we were leaving, she started heading to the car. The kids were watching some show and took their time, making us run behind.
Mom was upset, I could tell, but she didn’t seem that angry until we got to the first set of stop lights…then the second…then the third. By the time she reached the fourth set she was livid. “Doesn’t the town of Mesquite know how to time its stop lights?” she fumed as she headed down Morrisfield Road. At the fifth intersection she said, “What on Earth is this? I’m going to be late for work!” Mom hates to be late. She’s a stickler for being on time. “Be early or be on time. Those are your only two choices when you need to be somewhere important.”