Rumble

by Ellen Hopkins

back at how he’s been feeling

  lately, I think the symptoms were

  there all along. I tried to talk him

  into seeing a doctor, but that is

  so not Uncle Jessie’s thing.”

  Is your dad here? Did he get to

  see Jessie? They wouldn’t let me

  in, did you know that? I’m not

  legally attached to the man.

  “They wouldn’t let Dad see him,

  either. But he did come. Nurse Meri

  just chased us all out of the waiting

  room and told us to come back

  in the morning. Cheerfully, of course.”

  That rates a smile, or at least

  a half smile, but her mind has

  wandered. We always meant

  to fill out the proper paperwork

  to legitimize our partnership,

  but it was never a priority.

  We were stupid. We were

  sure we had plenty of time.

  Priorities

  Are hard to prioritize,

  even at my age, when

  my options are relatively

  limited. Being an adult

  must suck because then you

  can’t use excuses like,

  Yeah, but I’m just a kid.

  “Everything’s going to be

  all right, Quin. And no

  worries. If you and

  Uncle Jessie don’t put

  filing necessary paperwork

  at the top of your list, I’m

  just the guy to remind you.

  Let me drive you home.

  I’ll stay over tonight

  so you won’t be alone

  out there. In the morning,

  you can get all beautiful

  before I bring you back.

  I’m skipping school

  tomorrow, regardless.”

  I’m Almost Surprised

  When she says okay, but then

  what choice does she have?

  Dozing in a hard wooden chair

  in a room reeking of sandalwood?

  She follows me to my truck and

  I open the passenger door for her.

  Before she climbs up inside,

  she rewards me with a weak hug.

  I just want to tell you thanks

  for all you do for Jessie and me.

  He talks about you all the time,

  you know. I’m glad you’re close.

  Part of me wants to protest.

  I am close to no one, really.

  But then again, I guess the people

  I’m closest to at this point in

  my life are Uncle Jessie and

  Alexa, not necessarily in that

  order. And after those two,

  unbelievably, I’d have to rank

  my mother.

  When We Get to the House

  Larry, Mo, and Curly are freaking

  out. Hungry, yes, but more. It’s like

  they intuit their “dad” is in trouble.

  They sniff around the truck, then

  nudge Quin, one after the other,

  as if asking, Where did he go?

  I help divvy up kibble, and after

  the dogs eat, take them out for a pre-bed

  sniff and piss. When the four of us return,

  Quin has made up the couch for me.

  It’s late, but she sits in the rocking chair

  for a few minutes, drinking a hot

  toddy. She doesn’t offer one to me,

  but I’m good with that. Sleep won’t

  elude me tonight. In fact, I’m dozing

  when my mouth opens up and words

  hiccup out. “Hey, Quin. In the chapel?

  You weren’t, like, praying, were you?”

  Slip-slip-slipping away, but some

  small piece of me hears, Would it

  disappoint you if I confess I was?

  Adrift

  In the narrow pewter space

  between the gray of consciousness

  and the obsidian where dreams ebb

  and flow, I am drawn to the sound

  of Quin’s voice, gentle in prayer.

  She doesn’t plead. Doesn’t demand.

  It’s more like she’s having a regular

  conversation with somebody just out

  of sight. Jessie isn’t a perfect man,

  like I have to tell you that. But he’s

  a good man, and special to me. If you

  can see your way clear to help him

  get well, I’ll work real hard to pay

  you back. Just tell me what you want

  me to do. Now she’s quiet. Can she hear

  something lost to me? One more thing.

  Jessie’s probably scared. Since I can’t

  be there to shore him up, could you please

  send him peace of mind and a little love

  from me? In your name. Amen.

  So much pain, and yet hope, too.

  And something else, something deeper—

  wonder, I think, as if she’s tapped into

  something marvelous, and well beyond

  this world. What does it take to find that?

  Can you randomly discover it, or does

  it require faith? Can faith be as simple

  as tossing questions toward the Great

  Unknown, then listening for answers?

  But what if you never receive them?

  Alexa once asked if I wouldn’t feel

  better knowing some piece of Luke

  still existed somewhere. “Hey, little man,

  you there? Can you hear me? Throwing

  this out there, just in case. Any way

  you can put in a good word for Uncle

  Jessie? We sure don’t want to lose him

  just yet. You can wait a while for his

  company, can’t you?” Wow. Did I say

  that out loud? And was it a prayer?

  A Strange Slant of Light

  Pulls me from sleep toward morning,

  and when I open my eyes Curly

  is standing there, staring at me.

  He gives me a big old doggy tongue

  right across my mouth. “Ew! Gross!”

  Quin comes out of the kitchen.

  Ha-ha. No alarm clocks necessary

  in this house, that’s for sure.

  Her hair is knotted in a single

  long braid down her back, and

  she’s wearing an ankle-length

  blue polka-dotted dress in place

  of her usual jeans. I offer her

  a wolf whistle. “Wow. Hope

  Uncle Jessie is appreciative.”

  Probably more grouchy than

  appreciative, but he’s got every

  reason to be grouchy. Coffee’s

  ready, and I can fix you some eggs

  if you’re hungry. Then we should go.

  I Decline the Eggs

  Accept the coffee in a to-go cup,

  and as we pass the office on our way

  out, I stop long enough to hang

  a note on the door: Closed Due to

  Unexpected Circumstances. Check

  Back. I make a mental note to record

  some information on the answering

  machine, once I have the info myself.

  By the time we reach the hospital,

  right around nine, Uncle Jessie has

  already signed the necessary document

  to allow Quin into his room. We both

  start that way, but are halted by a not-

  so-Meri nurse outside the door. Two

  visitors max at a time, please. You’ll

  have to ask the two who are in there

  to step outside for a few minutes.

  He’s in no condition for a party.

  The Hulk-like woman waits for us

  to nod understanding before stomping

  away. “Char
ming.” Quin and I trade

  places with Lorelei and Dad, who’s

  tousled. Lose a little sleep, Dad?

  Guilt, or an extended roll in the hay?

  As We Pass

  He stops me briefly. We’re going

  to get some breakfast, but we’ll be

  back. So you know, I got hold of

  my parents, and they’re driving down

  from Portland tomorrow. I’d like to

  offer them your bedroom, if that’s okay.

  They’ll probably stay a week. Barring

  unexpected complications, Jessie will

  move to a regular room later today,

  and hopefully be out of here Monday

  or Tuesday. He’s got a crazy idea

  in his head, and unless Quin disagrees,

  looks like there might be a wedding

  next week. He won’t even wait until

  he heals up, says he wants to be sure

  she’s taken care of if his ticker decides

  it’s had enough. Too bad it takes something

  like this to make a person see the light.

  Too Bad It Takes

  Something like this to make

  a man visit his brother, too,

  but I’m pretty sure I don’t need

  to voice that opinion. I’m guessing

  guilt has steamrolled right over him.

  “It’s fine for Gram and Gramps

  to take my room. I can stay out

  with Quin over the weekend,

  then crash on an airbed in Luke’s

  room.” I shoot Lorelei a wicked

  glare. “As long as it’s okay with you.”

  Of course. I don’t think I’ll get

  a lot of work done for the next

  few days anyway, so no worries.

  I kind of hate how she’s so

  accommodating. Actually, more

  than kind of. Off they go in search

  of pancakes, and I watch just long

  enough to see Dad snake his hand

  around her narrow hip, coax her closer.

  I hear Alexa urging forgiveness,

  but clinging to resentment

  is much easier.

  In the Short Span of Time

  It took for that exchange, Jessie

  has already sprung his surprise

  on Quin, who sits on a chair

  very close to the bed,

  eyes shining tears.

  Look at her, he purrs to me.

  Isn’t she just about the most

  beautiful woman in all the world?

  He’s lying flat, without even

  a pillow, tubes running into his arm

  and nostrils. Regardless, happiness

  illuminates his face.

  Never saw the need to tie the knot

  before, he wheezes. But this li’l

  experience opened my eyes.

  We shoulda done it long time ago.

  Guess I’m lucky she di’n’ run.

  Definitely some decent drugs

  being piped into his veins. “Duh,

  dude! But wait. What did Quin say?”

  I’m kin’ messed up, but I think

  she said yes. Din’ you, Quin?

  She Did

  Whoopee! We’re going to have

  a wedding, and that allows joy

  to temper the overriding fear

  that Jessie’s time could be short.

  “So I guess we should look for

  a cake that’s fat and sugar-free,

  yeah? I mean, you’ll have to

  watch your diet now, right?”

  Smart-ass. I wouldn’t be too

  cocksure of yourself, though.

  Heart disease tends to run

  in families. Tol’ your dad

  the same damn thing, not that

  he ever listens to anything

  I advise. Can’ believe how pretty

  that li’l Lori still is, ya know?

  Do. Not. Argue. “Careful,

  now, or you’ll make Quin

  jealous. Still plenty of time

  for her to run. Right, Quin?”

  She smiles right past her tears.

  Way too late for that, Matt.

  Anyway, I’m not the jealous

  type, and at the moment I’ve got

  more important things on

  my mind than Jessie Turner’s

  wandering eye. I’m just glad

  he’s still around to let it wander.

  “Yeah, well, I’d be concerned

  if I were you. If he thinks Lorelei

  is good-looking, he probably

  thinks Nursezilla is pretty, too,

  and you never know where she

  might decide to put her hands.”

  In my best “large woman” voice,

  I say, “Sponge bath, Mr. Turner?”

  Quin laughs, then retorts,

  Better her giving him a sponge

  bath than me. Now if you’ll excuse

  me, I need to visit the ladies’ room.

  When She’s Gone

  I scoot into the vacant chair.

  “I’m glad you’re going to marry

  her. It’s a damn good decision.”

  His eyes close and he whispers,

  Funny how your mind works

  when you believe you’re dying.

  First you recycle regrets. Should

  have. Could have. Why didn’t I?

  I had a pretty long list there, and

  right at the top was Quin. That

  would be one hell of a reward

  for putting up with me all these

  years, huh? Debt. Her home and

  property in my name, and no will

  to say where it should rightly go

  when I die. She’s listed as beneficiary

  on my pitiful life insurance, but that

  wouldn’t take her very far. I got

  the chance to make it right, and

  by God, I’m gonna do exactly that,

  just as soon as I get out of this place.

  He goes quiet, except for pulling

  breath, and I think he’s fallen

  asleep. But when I start to get up,

  he puts out a hand. Something

  else. I really thought I was checking

  on out of this world. After regretting

  came a big rush of fear. I was soul-

  deep scared that the crazy pain

  in my chest was all I was getting

  before everything went black.

  The end. Finis. Nothing more.

  I yelled, “Help!” and I know

  those people working on me thought

  I was talking to them, but I wasn’t,

  you know? I was calling out to

  the universe and all of a sudden . . .

  I don’t know how else to say it,

  but I wasn’t scared anymore.

  And I have no idea what that means,

  only if there is something after this

  lifetime, I want to learn what it is.

  All That Talking

  Combined with his morphine drip

  has wiped him out. He slips down

  into a sea of sleep, much too deep

  for dreams to find him. I’ve never

  considered what it’s like to come

  face-to-face with death. Would I

  be “soul-deep scared” of everything

  going black? Does it happen all at

  once, or does the light fade slowly—

  gray, grayer, pewter, coal, obsidian?

  If I had that time, would I recycle

  regrets? I haven’t lived very long,

  relatively speaking, but I’ve managed

  to collect quite a few. Do small regrets

  flicker, huge ones flash, or are they

  more like weights, stacked one by one

  until they crush you into oblivion?<
br />
  Would my very last flashback

  be Hayden and me getting hot on

  a blanket, segue to a funeral

  on a sweltering summer day?

  It’s just not fucking fair that Uncle

  Jessie has the chance to make good

  his biggest regret, but I never can.

  The Whisper of a Skirt

  Tells me Quin has returned.

  I stand to give her the chair

  by the bed. Not a whole

  lot for me to do here. I almost

  wish I’d gone to school after all.

  “Dad wants me to let Gram

  and Gramps have my bedroom,

  so if it’s okay, I’ll stay with you

  over the weekend. That way

  I can mind the range if you want.”

  At least I’ll have something to do

  besides sitting here thinking

  about stuff I’d rather not consider.

  Sounds good. I’ll probably

  hang around here until

  they kick me out. Take the keys.

  And you’ll feed the dogs for me?

  “It’s the least I can do in return

  for the room and board. I’ll stop

  by the house for some clean

  clothes. Let me know if you need

  anything while I’m still in town.”

  I start to leave, but she stops me.

  Hold on just a minute. I know

  you’re pissed at your father

  and his girlfriend, but I hope

  you can find a way to reconcile

  your relationship with them.

  That old saying “life is too short”

  has taken on new meaning.

  I think we all need to allow

  ourselves some healing now.

  “I wish I could, Quin,

  but I’m not really sure how.

  I promise to work on it, though.”

  I give her a hint of a hug.

  “You’re okay driving

  yourself home, right?”

  Of course. I think the drama

  has subsided, at least for now.

  Leave the lights on, but

  don’t wait up for me. Not sure

  what time I’ll get there.

  There’s Nobody Home

  When I get there, and that’s all

  good with me. I straighten my room,

  strip the sheets from the bed, empty

  my clothes hamper, and take the dirties

  to the laundry room. No use grossing

  out the grandparents with the smell

  of used underwear and socks, and

  anyway, I haven’t stroked my OCD