Underneath the Sycamore Tree

by Celeste, B.

  Kaiden eyes me and then his mom, his lips twitching like he wants to say something. To my surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he stuffs more food into his mouth and ignores me completely. I don’t miss the way his jaw ticks like he’s pissed.

  We leave shortly after. Dad gives me money for the mall, which I have no intention of spending. I never like taking handouts, especially from him. It already feels like I’m doing that daily by living in his home. Taking his money for anything I want seems like pushing things too far.

  After we pick up some breakfast from the McDonald’s drive through, I turn to Cam and pick at my hash brown. “What did you mean earlier when you said Dad didn’t tell Kaiden about the past for a specific reason?”

  Cam lets out a soft sigh. “Kaiden is a tough boy to understand because he puts up walls to protect himself. He gets that from his father, I suppose.”

  I’m quiet as I wait for her to continue.

  Her grip on the wheel tightens. “My ex-husband’s name was Adam. He was the type of man who bottled everything inside until it destroyed him. No matter how much I tried helping him or understanding what he was going through, he wouldn’t let me. Adam had multiple health conditions. He struggled with pain and depression which made him irritable. Inevitably, that’s what broke us up. He hated people helping him like he was…”

  “Useless?”

  She glances at me. “Yes. In his mind, he wasn’t the picture-perfect man. He struggled keeping up with work because of his chronic pain, he had brain fog which made remembering things difficult, and during depressive episodes, he’d lash out. He got fired from multiple jobs, which left us financially disadvantaged. We had to file for bankruptcy when he couldn’t find new work because my job could only pay so much.

  “Through all of this, he put being a husband and father behind everything else. He stewed in his misery. He neglected Kaiden no matter how hard Kaiden tried getting his father’s attention, and it was heartbreaking to watch. Eventually, Adam became emotionally, and at times physically, abusive because he couldn’t deal with how things had turned out. He’d always prided himself in being the breadwinner, in being strong. His illness took that away from him until he lost everything he thought he should be.

  “Kaiden had trouble understanding why his father did the things he did,” she explains, slowing for a stoplight. “He was young when his father started turning into a different man. He always looked up to Adam, and it was heartbreaking to see the way Adam would treat him as though he couldn’t stand the attention Kaiden gave him. When I filed for divorce, Adam didn’t fight me on it. He didn’t even want Kaiden around, even though Kaiden begged to stay with Adam when I started packing our things. I couldn’t let him do that. Adam wasn’t taking care of himself. He refused to see a doctor or forgo any type of treatment for his pain. No matter how much research I did, he wouldn’t accept that he could get better.

  “About three months after I moved into a new place with Kaiden, I got a call from a local hospital that Adam had gotten into an accident. I was still his emergency contact, so I had my mother watch Kaiden so I could drive to see him. The doctor said they found a tumor that was putting pressure on his brainstem. It was causing an array of symptoms, mostly neurological but also misfiring the pain receptors throughout his body. His original fibromyalgia diagnosis wasn’t technically wrong, it just wasn’t the reason he was truly sick. By the time they found it, it was inoperable. The only solace we got was a final explanation over why the man I fell in love with changed so drastically. He couldn’t control how he felt because his brain wasn’t working the way it needed to. He refused to see Kaiden because he didn’t want Kaiden seeing him like that. Withering away in a hospital room.

  “Sometimes, I wish I had brought Kaiden anyway. I know he’s angry with me for keeping him from his father. He knew he was sick, but he never…” She lets out a shaky breath. “I never told him about the tumor. I should have, but he was still young, and I didn’t think he’d understand. But the boy I raised who loved life and looked up to his father became so much like his dad before Adam’s death. I worry that I messed up having a relationship with him all because I kept the truth from him. Now he won’t look at me, he’ll barely speak to me…”

  My chest aches for Cam. She fights off a frown but loses the battle. Her lips weigh downward as she watches the road. “You could always tell him now.”

  She nods slowly. “I could. I want to. Adam was always the type of man who worried about his appearance. Not just physically, but people’s perception of him. He didn’t want anyone to know how sick he was, especially Kaiden.”

  I cringe, knowing what I said to Dad at the restaurant must have hurt Cam in ways I never intended.

  “Even after all these years without Adam, I feel like telling Kaiden will break the promise I made to him. I want Kaiden to remember his father in a good way, but I just don’t want to lose him. When I told your father about this, he felt like telling Kaiden about your illness, about your sister’s, may bring up too many memories.”

  My lips twitch. “Don’t you think he’ll figure it out eventually? I’m not going to get better, Cam. I may be out of the house by the time things progress, but there’s still a lot that doctors don’t know about lupus. I’m not guaranteed to be this functional months from now.”

  She presses her lips together and stays quiet, absorbing the truth in my words. “You’re right. Your father is just protective of me. He knows how much I want Kaiden to heal from what happened.”

  “Does…” I hesitate. “Kaiden knows that his father is dead, right?”

  She turns to me in surprise. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  I shake my head, not wanting her to know that Kaiden acts like his dad lives somewhere else. The way he talked about him at school made it seem like he up and left them to be with another family or something. Maybe it’s his way of coping, but it won’t get him anywhere.

  “He’ll be angrier if he finds out we’ve kept it from him,” I say instead. “The thing about chronic illness is that you never know what you’re going to feel like when you wake up every day. It’s a new battle, because the good days don’t mean that you don’t hurt, they just mean that you can tolerate the pain better. I could wake up tomorrow and struggle to get out of bed. I could miss more days of school. He’s not stupid, Cam.”

  “I know he’s not.”

  “You need to tell him then.”

  She pauses. “I know.”

  I wet my lips. “Cam?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m sorry about Adam.”

  She reaches out and squeezes my hand.

  Chapter Eleven

  I ask Cam how she dealt with Adam’s death. She told me it was about realizing he was at peace now. It’s how I accept Lo’s death too, so I nod along in genuine understanding.

  “We never truly get over losses,” Cam tells me, walking us to the salon’s glass entrance. The windows stretch from floor to ceiling, with two wide doors centered in the middle that have white words on them with store hours. “We just absorb them until they mold us into someone new. Like any creation, it takes time.”

  “What does?”

  “Creating a masterpiece.” She holds the door open for me. “It isn’t the same for parents who lose their children. You have to understand, Emery. We’re not supposed to outlive you. If I ever lost Kaiden…”

  “Even though he doesn’t talk to you?” I wince at the blunt statement, but Cam doesn’t seem to mind.

  She gives me a small smile and nods as she walks me into the overly white reception area. It smells like expensive shampoo, and the music playing softly in the background is on a pop station. Everything is white, black, and silver—modern and sleek. It’s not like any place Mama ever took Lo or me to get our haircuts.

  “Especially then,” she whispers, writing my name on the sign-in sheet.

  “Why?”

  She turns to me. “Kaiden is my son. He’s still here, even if Adam isn’t. Tha
t means I have time. Hope. I’ll never stop loving him even if he finds a way to stop loving me. The truth is, we never stop loving our children even if we lose them. I know things with your mother are difficult now, but she needs time.”

  “To mend?”

  A single nod.

  What if Mama doesn’t become a masterpiece? There are pieces of art far less desired that take just as much time to create. If she becomes a canvas wasting away to dust…

  A woman with platinum blonde hair walks over with a big smile on her face. She’s probably around Cam’s age but looks closer to mine with flawless skin and shining eyes and perfect teeth. I never used to envy people as much as I do now, simply for looking healthy.

  She hugs Cam and turns to me. “You must be Emery.”

  “Em,” I murmur, feeling bad for thinking badly of her just because she’s pretty.

  “Ready?”

  For some reason, I look to Cam for guidance. It’s something I used to do with Mama when I was unsure. Like when I was little, and the doctor asked me simple questions that I couldn’t find the words for.

  When Cam nods in encouragement, my throat thickens. Mama did the same thing. Maybe it’s maternal, like a switch that’s flipped after having a baby. Maybe Cam’s just a good person.

  It makes me angry at Kaiden for being such a hypocrite. He can pretend like I’m horrible for leaving Mama, but he’s doing the same thing. Just because he lives under the same roof as her doesn’t mean he’s not emotionally here. If anything, he’s worse than me.

  Mama shut down because she struggled with Lo’s death and my diagnosis. Cam is the opposite—she wants to embrace him, and he pushes her away.

  Everyone grieves differently, Grandma would tell me.

  I don’t think Kaiden is grieving though.

  Pushing the thought away, I let the hairstylist, Jess, guide me to the sinks. I used to love getting my hair done—feeling the stylist massage the shampoo into my scalp. It relaxed me. Sometimes it even put me to sleep. Now all I can feel are the pinpricks of pain radiating across my skull as gentle fingers work my frail strands. It’s why I don’t get my hair cut often, because the small gasps as chunks come out into the sink despite me telling them it could happen never stops my face from heating.

  But Jess just reassures me. She doesn’t make a sound, even when I’m sure the drain is becoming well acquainted with my hair. She hums along to a song and then asks me how school is.

  What year are you?

  What’s your favorite subject?

  What are your future plans?

  Junior.

  English.

  Not to die.

  I don’t tell her the last one. Instead, I say that I haven’t decided yet and get the generic you have time response. But do I?

  There are lots of quotes about time.

  Time is fleeting.

  Time is valuable.

  Time shouldn’t be wasted.

  The trouble with time is that we only think we have it. It’s an illusion—an excuse to linger in existence. Some people use it to be reckless, others use it to hold themselves back.

  The kids stamping YOLO on their foreheads have no idea what they’re bartering with when they tempt death. They think they’re invincible. And me? I have to watch healthy people with thousands of chances live like they’re not afraid of death at all.

  Time is a luxury we can’t all afford.

  Chapter Twelve

  The tips of my blonde hair kiss the top of my shoulders. I’m not used to the style—side bangs and choppy layers, but it’s cute. Different. It also manages to hide my thinner sections without much hassle.

  Looking in the mirror now, I see Mama. I see her round green eyes and her tiny nose, and how her top lip is a little thinner than her bottom. I was always told I looked like a perfect mixture of both my parents, but in the moment I don’t see Dad at all.

  Carefully, I run my fingers through my hair. To my surprise, barely any falls out. Jess told me everything she used, including some special shampoo for people with brittle hair. Cam insists on buying some before we leave, and I feel bad knowing it costs a pretty penny.

  She says she doesn’t mind.

  She says she wants to help.

  Following her out the door, we enter her vehicle in silence. The wind catching the back of my neck is foreign and makes goosebumps appear on my arms, but I don’t mind it. It’s warm today, so the breeze feels nice even if it’s a reminder of the necessary new style.

  Cam looks at me and smiles. “You look beautiful, Em.”

  Em. Not Emery. My heart warms to this woman even more. The woman who’s not my mother, but the very one who’s given me more chances than my own back in Bakersfield. I want to feel guilty for liking her, for even considering her better, but I can’t. I see why Dad loves her so much.

  We spend two hours at the mall going through each store. I want to tell her after an hour that I need to sit down, my hips hurt and I feel my knees start to buckle. They nearly do when we get to the Shoe Depot. I sit down on a black leather cushion right as my legs give out, weakness settling into the joints in brutal bluntness, but Cam is too busy looking at the wall of purses to notice.

  I smile faintly when she glances over at me and tell her the purple one she’s looking at is my favorite. It’s not. It’s the yellow one to the right with the gold chain and zipper.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t mind me sitting while she looks around. It gives me time to relax and glance around the shoe displays. They have a section for Toms right in front of me, but I know I don’t need any more.

  Still…

  “Those are cute,” Cam says from behind me. I startle and pull away from the black and white checkered pair.

  Lo would have loved them. It reminds me of the matching dresses Mama bought us for kindergarten. The teachers couldn’t tell us apart despite the bow in my hair being yellow and hers being pink. After that, we weren’t allowed to be in the same class.

  Sitting back, I say, “They are.”

  “Aren’t you going to try them on?”

  Wetting my bottom lip, I shake my head and clear my throat. “No, I have plenty of shoes. I’m actually pretty tired. Do you think we could go home?”

  I could use at least an hour nap, which will probably lead to sleeping away the rest of my Saturday. My body tires on days I’m always on my feet. Tomorrow I’ll probably be worse, which means I need to double my normal medication to make sure I can move. I also know that means risking being twice as tired since one of my meds knocked me out during the first week and a half of being on it. Doubling it, though recommended by my doctor, could mean sleeping for thirteen hours straight and still waking up groggy.

  Goodbye weekend.

  Internally sighing, I stand up.

  After paying and leaving the store, my eye catches a yellow beaded bracelet from a small kiosk by the mall entrance. There are scarves, hats, and sunglasses all hanging colorfully from the sides. It’s not those I focus on, but the bracelet in all its simplicity.

  Walking over, I examine the little sunflower charms mixed into the plain beads. My fingertip runs over the words.

  You are my sunshine.

  Trying to swallow past the swell of emotion in my throat, I blink back sudden tears and shake my head. I’ve never believed in signs until Lo passed away and now they’re everywhere—in the sunshine, my music playlist, and in the sky after a rainstorm.

  Cam notices what I’m looking at and gently rubs my back. “How much?” she asks the older woman manning the booth.

  “Five dollars.”

  Cam pulls out her wallet and I don’t stop her. I used some of the money Dad gave me on new sweaters and a movie I’ve wanted to see because Cam kept insisting I treat myself.

  I take the bracelet from its hook and grasp it in my palm like I’m afraid it’ll disappear. I’ve broken beaded bracelets like this so easily in the past. I don’t want to harm it.

  Cam helps me put it on, clicking the clasp in
place and smiling at me. “It’s perfect.”

  Yeah, I want to say. Perfect.

  Dad asks if I had fun. Cam insists I show him my purchases, and he tries to act interested as I hold everything up. I can tell he isn’t, even though he nods along.

  When Cam points to my bracelet, his lips flatten just long enough for me to notice. I don’t need to tell him the importance. He must know it was Mama’s song for Lo and me.

  Kaiden comes into the kitchen with an empty glass and notices what Dad is looking at. His eyes train on the little letters, his body language stilling in the middle of the room before he goes about his business. From the corner of my eye, I see his lips twitch before going neutral again.

  I want to be angry with him, especially when he glances at Cam without a word. Part of me wants to yell, to throw something at him. He needs to stop being an ass and accept that his father is gone and not coming back, but his mother is here and living and willing to love him unconditionally. Doesn’t he get that unconditional love is hard to come by?

  Instead, I watch him walk out of the room with a single head nod toward Cam. That’s all she gets. A nod.

  My teeth grind.

  “I’ll go put these in the washer,” she tells me quietly, collecting my clothes. I want to stop her and say I’ll worry about it later. Dad just shakes his head at me like he knows what I’m thinking.

  Cam needs space.

  Cam leaves.

  Dad tips his chin toward my bracelet. “I like it. It’s…fitting.”

  I want to ask him how. Would he answer if I did? He could just be making polite conversation. It’s foreign for us, but he’s trying. At least he’s doing what Kaiden can’t.

  I swallow. “I love it.”

  I love her.

  “I know you do,” he whispers.

  I shift on my feet.

  “Your hair looks good.” His compliment surprises me. “It makes you look older.”

  Does he think I look like Mama too?

  “Thank you.”