One Sweet Day

by Elle Tyler

  My father pulled away from the table. “You agreed to do this? Callum, going before a board or judge to argue that Timothy isn’t fit to care for Everly is career suicide.”

  “But it’s the right thing to do. Even you said so—his methods are too intrusive. He’s stolen things from her that never belonged to him, father or not.”

  “Amazing.” He sighed. “I wanted to fight for Everly to live, and my son wants to fight for her to die.”

  “I don’t want her to die,” I swore. “That is the very last thing I want in this world. But she deserves to decide what happens to her life, even after it’s over.”

  “You’ll need more than just a med student’s argument.”

  “Are you offering your services?” I laughed.

  He grumbled under his breath. “I don’t know how much I could help either of you... But you’ll at the very least need to know all you can about her condition.”

  “So I can snoop through your files?”

  “No. I’m not at liberty to share those files with you.” He smiled. “But you may ask me anything you’d like about congenital insensitivity to pain with anhidrosis. I’m perfectly allowed to talk about the condition.”

  “Pop.” I smiled back at him with the coffee cup lifted to my mouth. “You’re still a brilliant, brilliant man.”

  “Ask me before I change my mind,” he encouraged. “Ask me before you realize, at the end of all of this, you will be guaranteed a career as a lifeguard. Although, on the upside, at least Amelia won’t be coming to my office, asking about you and faking affairs with me.”

  “I could give two wild fucks about Amelia, Pop,” I replied.

  “I know.” He grinned. “But you have to admit, the girl does look good in a bikini.”

  “You’re such a dirty old man.” I laughed but then straightened up. “And I have nothing to admit.”

  “Then let’s go back to CIPA,” he encouraged.

  “Congenital,” I began. “So Everly was born this way.”

  “A person, Callum. We’re not talking about her.”

  “Right,” I nodded. “Insensitivity...?”

  “Technically, a person with CIPA can feel pain, but they lack the messages to the brain to tell them that they are in pain. I’d have to read through my notes again, it’s been so long, but it’s genetic. Both parents carry a mutated gene. Their child would be born with both.”

  “Anhidrosis.” I sighed. “Well, that explains the fever in Montauk. Hard to keep cool if you can’t sweat.”

  He nodded. “It’s one of the most dangerous parts of the condition. As a child...” He paused and started over. “A child wants to run around and play. They want to explore, play sports, climb the jungle gym. But it’s impossible, unless you want to risk stroke or brain damage. Organ failure. Things can go from normal to catastrophic in a flash when dealing with CIPA.”

  “What’s the worst you have seen?” I asked. “Don’t name names. Only give me a scenario.”

  “I could only give one name because CIPA is rare. So rare, in fact, I had not ever even heard of the condition until...” He eyed me and then moved on. “There’s hardly any records that are of use. Most people die before age three.” He sighed deeply. “The worst I’ve ever seen? A toddler who needed to partially amputate her pinkie finger because children like to teethe on their hands. A normal child would have known to stop themselves, but when you can’t feel pain...”

  I stared down into my empty coffee cup as he continued.

  “Then I watched her be put to bed by strapping her down in restraints so she wouldn’t scratch her eyes out in her sleep. Then I watched the tip of her tongue be surgically reattached after she bit it off. Then I stitched the left corner of her lip back to her face. Then I watched her nearly starve herself, because she was too scared of biting herself, and then she was force-fed through her IV. Then I watched her grow and not be able to cry. Then I watched her sink into a hospital room that became a prison and her bright eyes turn dark, her innocence replaced by the cruelness of life.” He slid his chair away. “The worst of it, Callum? That was all in such a short amount of time. I’m sure I missed the worst of it. I’m sure today, when Everly woke and thought she’d be going to class, going to see you after the weekend you gave her in Montauk, she lit up like a Christmas tree, and then Timothy came into her room and told her she would not be going to class. I’m sure he reminded her of her burned hands and rubbed all of his routine and rules in her face, just to put her back in place.”

  My father looked at me and put his hand on my arm. “Do you understand that, when he gave you the greenlight to take Everly with you to our beach house, he had no faith in you? You were being used as a lesson to teach her what will happen if she tries to find independence. Whatever game you think you’re capable of winning with him—forget it. He has already mapped out the plans. Not only would you be better off leaving Everly alone, but so would she. I can only imagine what she felt when he took going to see you in class away from her this morning.”

  My chest throbbed. “I can’t abandon her.”

  “You can’t beat him, either.”

  “If you were in my shoes, what would you do, Pop?”

  My father thought for a long while, staring off as if he was seeing something I could not. “If I were you?”

  “Yeah, what would you do to save her?”

  Still staring off, he replied seriously, “I’d put on my knight’s helmet and mercilessly slay the dragon.”

  FRAGILE HEARTS

  CARRY HEAVY ARMOR

  18.

  AFTER MONTAUK, my only connection to Everly was through Brighton being my attending, but this was a man who didn’t even bother to hang pictures of his daughter in his house. I couldn’t find her in his shadow.

  During the hours where the hospital fell quiet and patients slept, I thought about her most. I thought about calling her, but she didn’t have a phone. I scrolled through my social media accounts, but she had told the truth: there were no Everly Brighton results in any search boxes.

  And when the night was at its darkest, her words haunted me before I closed my eyes for a moment of rest.

  I’ve never really mattered much to anyone.

  I dreamt of her when my eyes were closed…

  ***

  “What is the mask for?” I asked as we crawled into bed. Salty air filled the room as moonlight illuminated her face.

  “Keeps my eyes safe.”

  “And the gloves?”

  “Keeps everything safe.”

  I leaned down. “What’s going to keep me safe, Everly Anne?”

  She smiled up at me. “This huge T-shirt I’m wearing.”

  ***

  …I longed for her when my eyes were open.

  After fifteen hours of avoiding Tatum in the hospital hallways, I caved and agreed to take her ice skating at Rockefeller Center. It was my duty when Nick was away: comfort and care for her. I didn’t give a shit about ice-skating.

  She smiled as we went around the rink, crowded by happy, red-nosed children and kissing couples.

  “Don’t get any ideas, Callum.”

  I pulled her knitted hat over her eyes.

  “This is depressing,” I admitted. “Why are we doing this, Tater?”

  “Skating? What are you, the Grinch?”

  “Look how happy all of these people are. What’s wrong with them?”

  She laughed, shoving my arm. “It’s called love, love, love.”

  “I want to die. Right now. Club me with your skate and end this misery. It’s what a true best friend would do.”

  Tatum turned around, skating backward so she could face me. “Did you break up with Everly or something?”

  “Something.”

  Her face softened. “I haven’t seen much of you. I had no idea. Sorry. What happened?”

  “Her fuckin’ father. Life in general. My bad-ass luck. Pick one.”

  “You guys were so happy in the summer.” She frowned.
>
  “Does it look like fuckin’ summer?” I motioned around to the holiday cheer. “Does anything ever last in my life, Tot?”

  She fisted my sweater and pulled us to the edge of the rink. I leaned my elbows on the wall and breathed.

  “Tell me what happened,” she demanded.

  “Dr. Brighton used me to scare her, and I fuckin’ walked right into his trap. I let him do it. The whole Montauk trip, it was meant to divide us.”

  “How?”

  “It’s too long of a story, Tot.” I rubbed my face. “All that matters now is if I go against him, I’ll lose my career.”

  “Is that more important than Everly?”

  I faced her. “I know girls have this desire to romanticize everything to death, but Tatum, I have to apply logic to this, too. If I go against Timothy Brighton, I am done in New York as a doctor. It might gain me Everly Anne, but then what? How do I care for her? What do I do next? All I ever knew was that I was going to be an MD. I don’t have a backup plan. Is that fair? What about all her needs?” I stopped because Tatum didn’t know enough and I didn’t want to spill Everly’s truth at her feet.

  “You keep saying go against him. Well, Callum, hasn’t anyone ever taught you the expression you catch more flies with honey?”

  “Be nice to him?” I scoffed. “That’s your A-plus advice?”

  “Sure. Go to him as a man and demand to be heard, but do it with a smile on your face. Men like Tim Brighton get off on intimidation. Don’t ever let him see you sweat, kid.”

  “If I get kicked out of med school, will you let me sleep on your couch with my poor, homeless Everly Anne?”

  She pulled my sweater, tugging me back out onto the ice. “I wouldn’t.” She smiled. “But my girly, inner-romantic side absolutely would.”

  ***

  I breathed and then knocked. I wasn’t greeted by a gruff man who’d rather see me dead than with his daughter, though. No. I was greeted by a heavy-set woman with a thick German accent.

  “Is Dr. Brighton home?” I asked her.

  “Doctor no here.”

  “Is Everly?” I hoped aloud.

  “Who you?”

  A soft voice spoke from behind. “It’s okay, Henrietta.” Everly came around her and opened the screen door, stepping out. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  “You catch death out there,” the woman said. “I get coat.”

  “She can have mine.” I shrugged free of my coat and wrapped it around her. “See?”

  Everly reached for the door handle and shut it without another word to her nurse.

  She stared at me, and I soaked her in. So much the same, yet somehow different.

  “Shocked he doesn’t have an armed guard on the stoop,” she grumbled.

  “I’m so sorry, Everly Anne.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said, bouncing on her heels. “I should have known it was too easy to get him to say yes.” She looked up at me. “Not that I doubt you, Callum Andrew.”

  “If it makes you feel better, I had to do cadaver dissection as part of my punishment. I hope yours was a little less brutal.”

  She kept looking at me. “My punishment was not getting to see you. I’d vote more brutal.”

  I reached for her hand. “I didn’t have you, either.”

  “Callum.” She sighed, and then stepped into my arms.

  “Where is your father right now?”

  She pressed her forehead to my chest. “Something happened at the hospital. He’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

  “Come with me somewhere,” I begged.

  She raised her face. “He’d murder you on sight.”

  I lowered my head to hers. “It would be a death worth dying.”

  She tightened her arms around my waist. “We’re already in so much trouble.”

  I leaned to her ear and whispered, “But does your rebel heart still sing for me?”

  We ran away from the house with the stealth of thieves in the night.

  ***

  I told Everly to close her eyes as I slipped the gray cover off the car. “What do you think Merriam-Webster would call this?” She opened her eyes to see a sky-blue '57 Chevy in the middle of my father's garage.

  She whistled low. “Ho-lee-buckets. God Bless America.”

  I laughed. “I might very well have been conceived in this car... At least... the concept of me. The actual me was conceived on a train.”

  She lit up. “A train?”

  I opened the door for her. “I'll take you for a ride and tell you. Come on.”

  Everly climbed in then watched as I started the car and every other little thing, like a photographer rapidly snapping endless shots of me as she took it all in, committing it to memory.

  I asked, “Comfortable?”

  And she darted her eyes toward the windshield and said, “Yes and no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Never had a boy take me for a ride in a fancy car.”

  “I'm twenty-four. Haven't been a 'boy' in a long time, Everly Anne.”

  “That's not helping my nerves.”

  “I'm not gonna try to woo you into the backseat, if that's what you're worried about.”

  “So this will be a boring ride. Good to know.”

  I smiled as I put the car in reverse. “You can play with the radio if you’d like.”

  “Where are we going?” She leaned forward and toyed with the dial until she found an oldies station. “Oh, this is perfect.” She turned “Earth Angel” up a notch.

  “I'm hungry. There's a little retro diner downtown where we can keep this step-back-in-time theme running, if you’ll humor me.”

  She looked at me as we drove under the sleepy street lights. “Have you ever taken Amelia for a ride in this car?”

  “No. Never. In fact, I don't even want to mention her name in this car.”

  “Your unwavering disinterest for the poor girl leaves me hopeful,” she said. “Tell me about your history. What's the story behind your conception on a train?”

  “My father tried to win my mother Julep's affection by wooing her on this fancy train called the Northern Belle.” I glanced to Everly. “One ride and Julep was hooked. She had a book of all the ticket stamps they’d collected taking trips when my father had Christmas break. I was ticket number twelve. My father hadn't been home for more than an hour at a time in years, fresh out of med school. Noelle was like three or four years old, and you can imagine how desperate my mother was to get some alone time with my pop.” I laughed.

  Everly laughed, too. “I guess that plan backfired.”

  “I imagine having two young kids while being married to a doctor wasn't the easiest, but she made it work.”

  “Dashing her dreams aside, too.”

  I nodded. “Yeah... But I never felt that from her. She never made any of us feel like she would have traded starlight for reality.”

  “Maybe it became her starlight. Dreams change all the time,” she said.

  “Maybe she was just a really good actress,” I joked.

  Everly countered, “Maybe she really wanted to drown you in the tub every night.”

  “Maybe she had a secret tunnel that led to an underground world while Noelle and I were napping.”

  “Maybe she was just a figment of your imagination and never existed. Maybe you don't even exist. Maybe this is all just a dream and the car is steering itself.”

  I laughed, but my words turned serious. “Maybe she was just a good mother.”

  Everly agreed, “Or you know, we could be boring and say she was just a good mother.”

  My fingers swept across her cheek. “Forty-six? Can we pick up there? I'm pretty sure it's about right.”

  She looked confused. “Forty-six what?” she asked.

  “Oh, I’ve been keeping count, ever since Montauk, of how many interesting qualities you have as evidence as to why I adore you. Figured why let a good differential go to waste? I had half a log-sheet filled out already.”

 
; At first she smiled, but then she soured. “And you’re only at forty-six? I’m highly offended. I’m festooned with interesting qualities. Maybe you just have too many stars in your eyes to see them.”

  “Forty-seven,” I added. “You know a lot of great words.” Everly shook her head and relaxed into her seat. “Anyhow, that's a bit of my history.”

  “Have you ever been on a train?” she asked.

  “Does the subway and the night I was conceived count?”

  She smiled then gently told me, “I love train rides.”

  “What about them?”

  “Wiley, my granddad, he used to take me on trips when we lived in Georgia. I guess they remind me of him. He used to tell me he owned a railroad and that there was a man who came to him one day and offered to pay off all his debt to the government if he could marry his daughter, but he refused, even though he didn’t want to give up his business so that the government could claim his land and turn it into a another highway.”

  “This is Timothy’s father?” I asked.

  “No. My mom’s dad.”

  “He’s still alive?”

  She frowned. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen or talked to him since we moved to New York.”

  “You’re not allowed to talk to your own grandfather?” I scoffed.

  “I didn’t see him much,” she said quietly. “And the times he did come around weren’t very good... for Timothy. He didn’t like hearing about my mom, and that’s all my granddad wanted to talk about most of the time. I think that’s why he moved us here. It’s nothing like what life was for him with her. Where there were fields, we have concrete. Quietness is now never-ending noise. Slow moving people in a small town where everyone knew he was Dr. Brighton raising ‘that girl’ who lost ‘his wife’ have been replaced by a stone wall that no one can penetrate to learn his secrets. Not even when he waves them in front of a class and threatens his students with a passing grade to figure them out.”

  We drove silently until I reached a red light.

  I took her hand and said, “In some ways, you're still like a little girl, Everly Anne—so innocent to so many things. But then, in other ways, you have this soulfulness that leaves me awestruck.”