She could feel Marcus looking at her, waiting for her to speak.
“You said you wanted to start fresh. Wipe the slate clean.” She held on to his hand with both of hers, studying the lines of his palm like they might tell her something. “But you don’t know what you’re wiping away.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I have to tell you something.”
“Okay.”
Anaya shook her head. “I don’t even know how it happened, really. It was the day we got into that fight. The day you brought pizza to school. I was upset afterward, and Kyle Davis—
“The guy I met at the community center?”
Anaya nodded. “He convinced me to go out for a drink. He thought I needed to loosen up.”
Marcus took his hand away.
Anaya’s felt empty and cold. “I don’t know what happened, Marcus. I don’t drink, but one led to another, and I…I blacked out, and the next morning when I woke up, I was in his bed. And then you came over, and I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t say it out loud. I didn’t know how to make anything right.”
She looked up into his eyes then, all the apology in the world in hers as his pupils expanded—black eating away at warm, chocolate brown. He leaned away like she was contagious. “Did you…” He blinked, like he was speaking a foreign language he didn’t know he knew how to speak. “Did you sleep with him?”
Anaya closed her eyes.
“Did he force you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t think so.”
And Marcus was up and away.
She stood up too. “Where are you going?”
But he kept walking.
She hurried after him. “I’m so sorry. I was lost. And the alcohol went to my head so fast. I didn’t even know what I was doing. I wasn’t myself. I wish more than anything I could take it back. Please. Don’t go.” She reached for his arm. “It was a mistake.”
He stopped, jerking away from her touch. He shook his head, his nostrils flaring. “A mistake?”
“A really horrible one.”
“Tell your grandmother I’m sorry I couldn’t stay.”
“Marcus, please.”
He held up his hands. “I need to go right now, Anaya.”
Sixty-Four
Support 4 Parents of Diabetics Facebook Group:
May 24 at 12:12 p.m.
Camille Gray: Hello, everyone. I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Camille. My oldest was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes one week ago today. According to her A1C test, she’s been living with really high blood sugar levels for months. I feel horrible that I didn’t notice something was wrong sooner. They released her from the hospital on Friday. They sent us home with a gigantic binder of information. We met with a diabetes educator on Monday. She went back to school on Tuesday. We’ve had to tweak her Lantus injection at night a couple times. She’s had one reading over 200, but there weren’t any ketones in her urine. She had a small breakdown the night she came home from the hospital. But since then, she seems to be doing fine. I keep waiting for all of this to sink in. Taylor has always been a big runner. Cross-country and track. She’s had college coaches watching her since her freshman year. I’m completely overwhelmed. Meanwhile, she seems steady as a rock.
Mary Crawford: Welcome to the group! And welcome to life with diabetes. Those first few months are the hardest. Hang in there. Everyone feels overwhelmed one week in. Repeat after me: this is not a death sentence. Your daughter is going to be okay. And before you know it, that binder they sent you home with? You’ll be an expert on everything in there.
Likes: 19
Tabitha Rogers: Your daughter sounds like mine. I was a train wreck. Bethany took the whole thing in stride. That’s not to say there haven’t been hard days. With diabetes, those are inevitable.
Likes: 12
Bonnie Kent: I think you mean with life, those are inevitable. ;-)
Mary Crawford: Everyone reacts differently. My son was okay at first too. But it really got to him later, after the novelty of it all wore off. Keep asking how she’s doing. Be a safe space if she’s not okay.
Erin Harwood: Have her download the Sugar Sense Diabetes App! Such a lifesaver, especially if she goes away to camp or some sort of overnight. You share an account, so that way, you know what her blood sugar is every time she checks.
Likes: 5
Tabitha Rogers: I second that!
Jason Holmes: I third it!
Sharon Neff: Welcome, Camille! You’re not alone! You said Taylor is your oldest. How are your other kiddos doing?
Likes: 3
Camille Gray: They seem to be doing okay. Austin is twelve. He’s my investigator, so he checked out a book at the library and learned all about insulin. Paige is eight. She’s asked some questions but seems mostly uninterested.
Bonnie Kent: My daughter was diagnosed at 17 too. She just got married last week. It’s gonna be okay, Mama!
Likes: 7
Dennis McVay: She can still run. My son is running in college right now on a scholarship. He was diagnosed when he was 11.
Likes: 10
Janelle Rodriguez: My DD (26 yesterday) is a runner too. She just finished her first marathon. Here’s what diabetes has taught me: our children are amazing. The best advice I ever got was from her primary care nurse the day after diagnosis. “Follow her lead.” So far, it hasn’t led me astray.
* * *
Color Run Meeting:
Rebecca: Rick thinks she’s overreacting. He says it was a typical high school fight and there’s no way they’re pressing charges.
Rose: Isn’t it a little too late to press charges now, anyway?
Rebecca: Not even close. The statute of limitations for assault is two years.
Rose: You’re telling me that in two years, if Cody suddenly wanted to press charges, he could?
Rebecca: Yep. I’m not sure anyone would take him very seriously at that point, but he definitely could. Anyway, she’s got all these things going on. Cody’s graduation party, this mess with Dane’s teacher…
Deb: Isn’t that awful?
Rebecca: If it’s true. I guess the sub they hired to replace him doesn’t know what he’s doing. This morning Kathleen told me she’s going to send the boys to Lakemont next year.
Deb: How do they feel about that?
Rebecca: She hasn’t told them yet. But I’m sure they won’t be very happy when they find out.
Deb: Man, this has been such a rough year for both of them.
Rebecca: Kathleen was really hurt that Camille didn’t call her about Taylor.
Rose: I hope she cuts her some slack on that one.
Rebecca: It’s not about cutting her slack. She thought it was weird. I mean, Camille called you.
Rose: I called her. We were talking when she got the phone call from the school nurse. I wanted to make sure everything was okay. She told me what was going on, so I offered to text everyone. I’m sure Camille would have called Kathleen if I hadn’t.
Deb: Did Neil really move back in?
Rose: Not technically, but he’s been over a lot.
Rebecca: Do you think they’re getting back together?
Deb: Wouldn’t that be wonderful?
Rose: Yes, it would. We should probably talk about packet pickup this weekend. If everyone waits until Sunday night, it’s going to be a zoo at the community center.
Rebecca: Everyone always waits until Sunday night. Oh, I almost forgot. Guess who came to the station yesterday demanding cones for her yard?
Deb and Rose: Juanita Fine.
Sixty-Five
Leah to Jen: We’re all packed and ready to go! I cannot wait to hug your neck!
* * *
Taylor: Go
od luck today. Run hard for me.
Shanice: Thx, girl. U know I will.
Taylor: I wish I was there.
Shanice: You will be next year. 1st place all the way.
Taylor: You think so?
Shanice: I know so. C U Monday, right?
Taylor: I don’t know.
Shanice: Did someone cut off your legs?
Taylor: I’d probably have to walk the whole thing.
Shanice: Big deal. Then we’ll walk. Darius will walk too. C’mon. There’s no way I’m dressing in a tutu unless you are too.
* * *
Taylor studied the label on the back of the turkey bacon with the same, small concentrated furrow she wore when she was learning to tie her shoelaces—a task she completed one week to the day before she turned five. Not because she was particularly gifted but because she was fiercely independent.
Her first three-word phrase wasn’t “I love you” or even “I did it.” It was “I do it,” quickly followed by another three-word phrase—“all by myself.” Austin hardly uttered either of them, and Paige was so prone to fits of frustration when she couldn’t figure something out right away that her “I do it” quickly became a hysterical “I can’t do it!” Taylor, on the other hand, would sit patiently and try and try, a slight pucker in her forehead, until she figured it out.
Austin didn’t learn how to tie his shoes until halfway through first grade and that was only because Camille forced him. She had been convinced something was severely wrong with him, even when Kathleen assured her over and over again that five years old was really quite young to tie shoes—to which Camille would respond, “She was technically four.”
And now that once-four-year-old was tackling diabetes with the same focused determination.
As Camille sat at the counter finishing her yogurt parfait, her throat swelled with sudden and unexpected emotion. It was similar to the feeling she got whenever she watched Taylor break away from a pack of runners. And yet, different too, because this came without any sense of pride, as if Camille deserved credit for her daughter’s speed. This was wholly removed from Camille altogether.
She was a mother in awe.
Taylor dialed her insulin pen.
Her daughter was supposed to be on a bus, headed for the state track meet right now. Instead, she was giving herself pricks and shots in her kitchen.
“You amaze me, you know that?” Camille said.
Taylor looked up, her pucker smoothing away. It softened with surprise, as though she didn’t actually know it at all. As though Camille had just told her—for the first time—that she loved her. As though Camille wasn’t the type of mother to say things like that. But of course she was. She was generous with her hugs, even when Taylor didn’t want them. She was generous with her “I love yous,” even when Taylor rarely said them back.
Taylor knew how much Camille loved her.
But did she know she believed in her?
The question came like a slap.
From the Dora bike to driving a car and every other message in between, Camille’s actions and concerns all said the same thing. You can’t do it, Taylor. I don’t believe in you, Taylor. She needed to stop. She needed her children to know that she didn’t just love them, she believed in them too. Because she did. Oh my goodness, she did.
“The way you have handled all of this has been nothing short of astounding.”
A pink blush blossomed in Taylor’s cheeks. She looked away, but not before Camille saw it. It wasn’t embarrassment sparkling in her eyes; it was pleasure. She unscrewed the needle from her pen and put it inside the empty coffee canister on the counter. “I want to run on Monday.”
“What’s that?”
“In the 5K. I was supposed to do it with some friends. I think I still want to.”
Camille wanted to laugh. Her diagnosis was only nine days old. They were just getting used to shots and pricks and carb counting. Running in a 5K nine days after being hospitalized for hyperglycemia was…well, it was downright irresponsible. It was the training wheels all over again. This was too soon. Taylor was going to fall, and this time she’d need more than five stitches.
“The diabetes educator said that if I’m consistently below two hundred, exercise is good for me. My blood sugar’s been below two hundred.” Taylor zipped her insulin kit closed. “I’m still a runner, Mom. I don’t want this to change that.”
Slow down, Taylor. Slow down.
“I want to at least try.”
It went against every one of Camille’s motherly instincts to nod and say, “I’ll give the diabetes educator a call. She’ll probably want to talk to you first.”
* * *
ReShawn: Finally got my behind to church & you nowhere. SMH. Where you at, girl? And why Marcus look like he fixing to kill someone in the Lord’s house?
Anaya: I’m giving him space.
ReShawn: Why does he need space?
Anaya: It’s a long story.
ReShawn: I’ll come pick you up. You can tell me about it over tacos.
Sixty-Six
The sun shone hot on Camille’s back as she lifted another box from the bed of the truck and carried it over to a long foldout table in front of Rick Malone’s law office. Fleat Family Auto loaned them four trucks altogether, one for each of the three stations along the route and another for the start and finish line. A team of volunteers had loaded the back of each one with boxes of color-filled bottles.
Kathleen and Camille were supposed to set up the pink station.
So far, there was no sign of Kathleen.
It was just Camille and Neil, Austin, and Paige—who was smeared from head to toe in colored cornstarch, a medal hanging proudly around her neck. She skipped back and forth from the truck to the table with items she could carry, like wet wipes and paper towels and sponsor signs and water guns and the first-aid kit. This morning’s kids’ run had gone off without a hitch, with blasts of color and excited children making for excellent photo ops that would work perfectly for next year’s advertisement.
Paige loved every second of it. She especially loved the fact that her mother and her father had stood next to each other while they cheered her on.
Camille barely had to do anything. Since Taylor’s diagnosis, the Crystal Ridge Memorial Day 5K planning committee did such a good job picking up her slack, they made her obsolete. It was the same thing with the year-end carnival at O’Hare. Usually, this time of year Camille spun a thousand plates in the air. It turned out, those plates spun just fine without her.
A screen door slammed shut.
She turned around and saw Juanita Fine marching across her front lawn with a stack of orange cones. She started placing them around the periphery of her yard.
Camille waved, overly cheerful—her typical response when it came to miserable people. They grumbled and frowned. She chirped and beamed. “Hello, Mrs. Fine. How are you doing today?”
“I’ll be better once this race is over and my lawn survives.”
“I think those cones should do the trick!”
Juanita harrumphed.
Neil grabbed the last box from the back of the truck.
He was wearing a gray T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts, his forearms tan and well defined. It made her think about CrossFit. It made her think about Jasmine Patri. Was she still in her husband’s life? And if so, in what capacity? These were the questions she’d wanted to ask at least a hundred times over the past ten days, but every time she opened her mouth to ask one, the words got stuck. Taylor’s diabetes had thrown them out onto thin ice together, and as precarious as it was, she wanted to stay there.
“I hope you don’t play your music too loud!” Juanita yelled.
“Not any louder than the marching band will be, I assure you,” Camille called back, holding up one of two portable speakers, her smile as bright as
the sun.
She caught Neil’s eye. He was hiding a grin. She could tell by the shy dimple in his left cheek, the one that only made an appearance when he was working really hard to tuck away his amusement. For a brief moment, it distracted her from the heavy feeling she went to sleep with. The heavy feeling she woke up with. Neil found her response to cranky Juanita Fine funny.
It drummed up a euphoria that lingered until Kathleen arrived.
She drove down the road in a golf cart with Bennett in the passenger seat, a large water rifle strapped in front of his chest. She pulled to a stop beside Juanita Fine’s cones. The old woman had taken a seat on her rocker and watched them all with beady eyes.
Any other year, Camille and Kathleen would have shared a smile over her scrutiny. This year, Kathleen seemed to be working hard to avoid Camille’s eye altogether.
Paige tore off the medal hanging around her neck and shoved it in Bennett’s face. “I beat your brother in the race this morning!”
He jerked away.
“Paige,” Camille barked.
“What? I did. I beat Dane. He’s one year older than me. And he’s a boy.”
Neil cupped Paige’s shoulder. “Humility’s never been her strong suit.”
Kathleen didn’t seem offended. “In another year, you’ll probably be able to beat Bennett.”
Bennett rolled his eyes, then hopped out of the cart and aimed his water rifle at Austin. A stream of pink shot from the gun and almost hit him in the face.
Austin held up his hand and ducked away.
“Sorry we’re so late,” Kathleen said, setting her purse on the table. “We got cornered by Mr. Ripple. You know how he is when he gets going.”
“Good old Mr. Ripple,” Neil said before turning to Camille. “I’m gonna run to the house quick with Paige. Check in on Taylor.”
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