Orion Cross My Sky

by Rosa Sophia

  “Please call me Ryan.”

  “Okay.” He gave himself a moment, trying to relax the muscles in his face. The pain slowly backed away. The attack was almost at an end. But he had to be careful. He couldn’t move. He had to breathe through his mouth. Even breathing hurt.

  The sheriff was moving around somewhere behind him. Orion recalled seeing a desk when they’d first come in. He didn’t dare look.

  “Okay,” he mumbled again. “Ryan.”

  “Yeah.” The sheriff stepped into view. This time, he wasn’t wearing his hat, and he’d taken off his coat. He wore a long-sleeved, tan, button-up shirt, and his badge was on a lanyard around his neck.

  “Why am I here, I mean…why…why aren’t I in jail?” The words caused reverberations of pain, like earthquake aftershocks, to shoot across his face. He jerked his head, wincing.

  “Because you don’t belong in jail.”

  There was a brief scraping sound as Ryan pulled a chair over and sat down.

  “Isn’t it…can’t you get in trouble?”

  The sheriff shrugged. “Sure, I guess. But then, sometimes, I bend the rules a bit. And I do it when I see somebody needs help. You need help.”

  “Me. I don’t…”

  “Orion, you’re a good kid. You’re in more pain than anybody your age should be in. Shit, nobody should be in as much pain as you’re in. How long have you had this?”

  “Born with it.”

  “Surgery?”

  “No. Those…surgeries cost a lot.”

  “That’s true, they do.”

  “Anyway, Dad…wouldn’t.” He couldn’t get the words out. It was too long of a story, and it hurt to talk. He thought about how his grandfather had suffered with the same affliction, but it’d skipped his dad.

  He thought about MVD—micro-vascular decompression. Pretty much a brain surgery. They’d go in behind the patient’s ear, having located the source of the nerve compression at the base of the brainstem. And then, they’d insert a tiny sponge between the compressing vein and the nerve and hope to God it did something. Sometimes, it didn’t. In many cases, it helped. But Orion wasn’t optimistic, especially since his father hadn’t allowed him to do it.

  And at this point, he hadn’t exhausted all other possibilities. Surgery was a last resort he wasn’t ready for yet.

  The sheriff watched him with a curious expression on his face. Was it compassion—or pity?

  Ryan cleared his throat. “Listen. I’ve been called to your house enough times to know your family life isn’t that great. And that’s why I didn’t throw you in jail. You’re not in the best of situations, and in any other town, maybe you’d be in jail right now. Am I risking my job by letting you recuperate on this couch? Probably. But you remind me of me.”

  Orion said nothing. He couldn’t. The pain was too great.

  “I grew up in a dysfunctional home,” the sheriff continued. “My mother died when I was twenty-two. She drank too damn much. That put a lot of strain on the family, and it was hell. I was an only child.”

  He kept turning his watch around on his wrist. Orion watched the continuous movement as the sheriff talked.

  “Dad died three years ago, only a year after we’d started to mend what was left of our relationship. I’m telling you this so you can see you’re not the only one. You’re not alone. But you have to take care of yourself, kid. Especially in your situation. I know it’s tough, but you gotta make sure this kind of stuff doesn’t happen in the future.”

  Orion breathed out. “You mean, don’t beat the shit outta my dad.”

  “Sure. And just take care. You’re battling something most people your age don’t even know exists. But you can make it through.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Because I see the same strength in your eyes that I saw in mine. Years ago. I don’t know what your pain is like, but I know what it’s like to live with a family who doesn’t understand you and doesn’t try.”

  “You should be a therapist.” Orion paused. “Not a sheriff.”

  He allowed the left corner of his mouth to move upward in a half-hearted smile, but he instinctively curtailed the movement of the right side of his face.

  “I’m gonna let you rest for a bit. But—” The sheriff leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “I’ve got an extra room in my condo. You’re more than welcome to stay there for a night or two. We’ll let your dad think you’re in jail.”

  “What about…”

  Sheriff Ryder shook his head. “If you knew my secretary, you’d know she’d be all for it. And Cindy in dispatch, she’s the sweetest lady I’ve ever met. She’d probably hide you over at her place. But I’m not gonna mention it to her.”

  “Okay.” Orion wasn’t sure if he was agreeing to the idea or not. He just didn’t want to talk anymore.

  The sheriff seemed to notice his discomfort, taking it as a signal. He stood from the chair without a word and went to work at his desk.

  Orion fell asleep with the sounds of paper shuffling behind him, his exhaustion too great to deny.

  31

  Chapter Thirty-One

  A frumpy woman clad in white and blue scrubs and a heavy cloth coat toddled down the sidewalk, greeting her with a curt smile as she headed for a gray Pontiac parked in the driveway.

  Tammy watched her go.

  She stepped into the kitchen, all of a sudden deciding she’d never seen so many cookies. There were trays of them everywhere. Her mother stood by the table, wiping her hands on her apron. Her cheeks were puffy and red below her eyes, as if she’d been crying.

  “Mom, is there a bake-off in town that I don’t know about?”

  Nan almost laughed, but it was a choked sound, as if she were on the verge of tears. “Oh, Tammy. Come here.”

  Without waiting for her approach, she went forward and wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her so tightly it was uncomfortable.

  “Mom, who was that lady who was just leaving?” Tammy said into her shoulder.

  Nan breathed out deeply as if trying to compose herself. “The nurse.”

  She stepped back from the embrace, averting her gaze.

  “You mean…for Dad?”

  “Yes.”

  Agitation overwhelmed her. She flashed back to every instance in which she’d noticed something different about her father. She thought of the nights he’d retired early, complaining of dizziness, the times he didn’t feel well.

  They’d written it off—just the alcohol talking. But something else was going on, and for some reason, fury was rising through her chest, making her skin hot, making her want to scream. She’d always been so quiet, so shy. Hiding behind the light brown hair that slipped over her eyes. Hiding in the attic. Hiding behind anything, concealing herself from him.

  Now, the anger seemed to overflow like boiling water and she shrieked, pulling at her hair and doubling over. “Goddamn it!”

  Not conscious of her mother, she hadn’t realized the older woman stood there in shock, staring at her, holding a tray of cookies she’d just pulled from the oven.

  “T-T-Tammy.”

  She jerked her head up, stared at her mother. She thought of Clara’s stuttering problem, how anxiousness and discomfort sometimes destroyed her ability to communicate more than a few broken words at a time.

  It became clear to her that Nan had always been afraid of her husband. She just hid it well.

  “Mom.” Tammy’s hands slipped from her mussed-up hair. Hot tears coursed down her cheeks.

  “We…we didn’t know, Tammy. Not right away.” Nan set the pan on the stove, carefully making room. “The dizziness got worse. He fell.” She approached her daughter tentatively, as if frightened of her rage. “The ambulance came. It was the day after you left. They…t-t-t-they f-f-f-f…” She stopped for a moment, steeling herself, squeezing her eyes shut in concentration. “They f-f-found a tumor. It’s been so long, they don’t…they can’t…they can’t operate on it. It’s t-t-to
o late.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your father is dying.”

  * * *

  The stairs seemed harder to climb than they’d been in the past. Each step felt laborious, knowing what she was walking toward. Who she was visiting.

  A heavy sensation of indifference weighed her down.

  She didn’t know how to feel, or what to think. And she could sense herself leaving her body as she’d done on so many occasions in the past, drifting out until she hovered somewhere in the cosmos. Or better yet, aboard the Nautilus with Captain Nemo. To be in her favorite book would mean to be in Heaven.

  She halted mid-step, staring up toward the hallway. Blood pounded in her ears.

  The anger roiling inside her became dampened by confusion.

  Forcing it all away, she let her mind drift behind her as though she were tugging it gently on a cord, as though it were an exhausted pet that had no fight left.

  The door to her parents’ bedroom lay open a crack. She knocked softly before entering.

  And the sight she saw was not what she’d expected.

  Then again, she didn’t know what she’d been expecting.

  In her parents’ bed, there slumped a sullen figure. Thin. Sunken cheeks, pale skin. Bald, with glassy eyes. It was hooked up to some sort of machine, but Tammy didn’t know enough to know what it was. Or why it was there.

  She stood by the door, staring.

  Until she realized it was her father.

  “Tammy.”

  A voice came from the body lying there. A voice she recognized.

  “Dad?” She stepped closer, her entire body trembling with fear.

  “Have a seat. I know I look bad.” He indicated the chair beside the bed and shifted himself on the pillows.

  She sat.

  “Well,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”

  It sounded so stupid. Thank you for coming. For what? For seeing him half-dead, like a corpse ready to be thrown in the ground? She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t think he had a right to die. Resentment rose within her and she realized she wished she were the one dying, because she already felt dead inside.

  Words emerged from between her lips as if they weren’t hers. Someone else must be speaking, she was sure of it. She wasn’t there.

  She was on the Nautilus with Nemo.

  “What…when. How did this happen?”

  “I’ve been getting dizzy for a while now.”

  “I know.”

  She breathed out. The room was stuffy. She wished she could open a window, but she couldn’t move. There lingered a stench in the air. Urine. A catheter wire wound beneath the starchy sheets.

  “I fell. They found the tumor in an MRI.” He paused, staring downward as if searching for his thoughts. “It’s in a bad spot, they can’t do surgery. All I can do is sit here and wait to die.”

  She said nothing.

  Long moments passed in silence between them.

  “I’m glad you came, Tammy. I really am.”

  “Why?” Her voice sounded unrecognizable to her. She was so far away.

  “I haven’t been a good father.” He blinked slowly, seeming tired from the short discussion. “I want to apologize to you.”

  She froze, digging her fingernails into the legs of her jeans. She didn’t know what a good father was, but she was beginning to see that Harris Pendleton had never met the requirements. She’d once believed all fathers did what he did. That it was normal.

  The drinking. The touching.

  Just by living in the outside world—in Clearwater, away from her family’s estate—she’d learned some things weren’t normal. Some things were unhealthy.

  She was hurt, broken.

  He’d broken her.

  “I’m sorry, Tammy,” he said again.

  She sat there for a long, long time. Hours.

  She watched him sleep when he drifted away, and she thought about her childhood. She remembered all the good things—the way they’d once played fun games with her mother, cards and Monopoly. Decorating the Christmas tree. Playing in the yard in the summertime. Jumping in leaves in the fall. Her father’s deep, rumbling laughter when he was sober.

  But then, she thought of the horrors. Of being afraid to go to sleep. Curling up under her covers and knowing he might come in, he might be drunk, he might touch her.

  She didn’t like being touched that way, and even when she wondered if this was normal, if all fathers did this, she still didn’t like it. Her body was soiled, and her mind would drift away.

  She and Clara had both become experts at leaving their bodies, so much that they’d turned it into a game when they were younger. Who can escape first, they’d called it. She thought of how they’d sit across from each other in her bedroom, each closing their eyes and imagining far away worlds, each drifting off. It felt like a practice session, but they didn’t call it that. Whoever got out of their body first was the winner.

  The day wore on. Nan stepped in only once, to see if her husband needed anything. She brought her a mug of hot tea, but Tammy barely touched it. She held it, watching the steam rise, feeling the heat dissipate.

  It cooled. Then it grew so cold, it repulsed her.

  She still held it.

  Finally, she stood, placing the tea on the nearby dresser. A wave of guilt passed through her at the fact she’d ignored the tea her mother had made for her. She couldn’t process that guilt; it seemed so ridiculous. So, she knew it probably had nothing to do with the tea.

  “Tammy.”

  She turned to find her father watching her. His eyes seemed sunken into his face, as though he were rotting away.

  “I love you, Tammy.” He didn’t reach out to her, just laid there and looked up at her pleadingly, as if begging for her forgiveness.

  She thought of all those good times.

  She thought of all the pain.

  “I love you, too, Dad,” she muttered, squeezing his frail hand, before she turned and left the room. A part of her had splintered, left her body. She felt it slip away, a piece of her soul.

  She wondered if it would ever return to her. Or if she’d lost it forever. Maybe it was on board the Nautilus with Captain Nemo.

  Yes. Yes, maybe that’s where it is. It could stay there, as far as she was concerned. Her cousin, Clara, had escaped over the ivy wall. A part of Tammy had gone off into the atmosphere, boarded an imaginary craft. Let it stay. Until she was able to rescue it—let it stay.

  32

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  It was Sunday, and Tammy was supposed to start her new job Monday morning. Orion texted her cell phone, asking her to meet him at Express Ohh’s.

  When she saw him leaning against the table in the corner booth, she knew something was wrong. His lip seemed split and puffy, and he had a dark bruise around the left side of his jaw. His thick, gray wool scarf concealed the right side of his face, his coat lying beside him.

  “Orion, what happened?” She slipped into the seat beside him, taking his hand and pushing his coat aside. He turned to face her.

  “I’ll explain. But I’m okay, I promise.”

  His eyes were red-rimmed, as if he hadn’t been sleeping well, and he spoke out of the left side of his mouth—a sure sign he was in pain.

  She wanted to kiss him, but she didn’t want to hurt him. She knew a light touch to his lips could cause shocks to travel across his face, and she didn’t want to be responsible for that.

  But before she could say a word, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, his arms around her. She pulled back.

  “Orion, I don’t want to hurt—”

  “I don’t give a fuck. I want to kiss the girl I’m in love with. I’m not gonna let this goddamn disorder stop me.”

  Before she could respond, he kissed her again, this time with more passion and intensity than she’d ever known.

  Right there in the café. Thank God there’s no one around.

  He pulled back abruptly, wi
ncing, his eyes squeezed shut.

  “Orion, are you okay?”

  Her entire body clenched up in terror as she recalled that evening in the hospital. She couldn’t bear to see him like that again.

  He leaned his head forward, not saying a word. He froze. And then he slowly breathed out.

  “Now I am,” he muttered. “At least, I think so.”

  Jennifer appeared with two steaming mugs and placed them carefully on the table. Tammy glanced up and saw the deep concern in her eyes.

  “Anything else I can get you two?”

  “No, thank you.” She could tell the owner of the café was having a hard time saying much more. Jennifer walked back to the counter, busying herself with cleaning duties.

  “I ordered you hot chocolate.” Orion’s voice thrummed low, edged with exhaustion.

  “That’s fine.” She wanted to scream. Nothing was fine. She was in love with the man sitting beside her, but her entire life was in turmoil. She didn’t know who she was, and she didn’t know if anything she did was good enough. She wanted to work on a car until her fingers bled, until engine grease ran through her veins. Something about engines, about the scent of a garage, calmed her. She couldn’t figure out why, but she didn’t need the answer.

  They sat for a long time in silence, sipping their drinks. Orion had already paid.

  Finally, Tammy whispered, “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Where to?”

  “How about the Trans Am? Can we go there?”

  He nodded. “I think we can.”

  * * *

  When they reached Pete’s Service Station, the parking lot was empty and the garage closed up. They walked around the building toward the small garage behind, and Orion tugged his keys out of his pocket while holding his scarf over his face with the other.

  “Zane gave you the key?” Tammy asked, glancing around, feeling as if they were doing something wrong.

  “Yeah. It’s cool. We both have a key. Sometimes, I come and work on it. Sometimes, he does. To be honest, I’ve spent nights here before.” Appearing embarrassed, he paused as he turned the key in the lock of the side door. “When things get rough at home…”