October

by J. Grace Pennington

  “It’s the same way you turn it when going forward,” I observed.

  “Isn’t it backwards, though?” She furrowed her brows and turned the wheel right and left. “It feels backwards.”

  I chuckled. “It doesn’t really matter as long as you can do it.”

  “Want to go in when we’re done?” she asked, gesturing towards the mall with her head.

  I hesitated. Melissa would probably be there, and I didn’t really feel like seeing her. Especially after last night. “Sure,” I agreed. “If you really want to.”

  “Of course I do. I could use a new dress.”

  She shifted gears and prepared to make another trip around the parking lot.

  I peeked at her as she leaned over the steering wheel, eyes intensely focused, red hair tied back out of the way with a green ribbon. Where did she get her money? It was the first time I had ever thought to wonder this. She had no job. She did no work that I knew of. She just walked and read and picked out clothes and spent time with us. Did it come from her father?

  I shook the thoughts from my head as she prepared to park again, forward this time, and I encouraged and directed her through the process.

  “I don’t know what you’re worried about,” I said as she parked and turned the car off. “You’re not bad at all.”

  “Oh, you flatterer.” She tossed her hair and got out of the car, slamming the door behind her.

  I followed her lead, feeling a little lighter after her driving success, then I rushed around to the other side of the car to head into the mall with her.

  “Want to see a movie?” she asked as we waited for a car to pass.

  “What movie?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. We can find something silly and poke fun at it afterwards.”

  “Sounds perfect,” I agreed, and we rushed to enter.

  We saw a ridiculous movie, both found new dresses, avoided Melissa, and I managed to almost forget Jax during the rest of the afternoon. It wasn’t until October was slowly driving us back home that I felt a twinge of guilt for not even checking up on him. I had no idea what he’d even done during the day.

  Probably just studied.

  I pulled out my phone, slid the keyboard out, and sent a text. “Hey, are you okay today?” I asked.

  He replied, “Doing better. Thanks.”

  “Sorry I didn’t invite you along to the mall,” I texted back.

  His text, when it came, was characteristic in the extreme. “I would literally rather die, but thanks!”

  I laughed a little.

  “What is it?” asked Tobi, keeping a tight grip on the wheel.

  “Nothing,” I said, and put my phone away.

  *****

  I slept soundly that night, not even dreaming of anything that had taken place the day before.

  Something jerked me awake, yanking me into consciousness with startling suddenness.

  I lay there for a moment, trying to figure out if I had actually been asleep, whether I was awake now, and where exactly I was.

  A blurry glance at the clock showed me that it was two thirty in the morning.

  I rolled onto my back and listened. Nothing.

  Sighing, I closed my eyes. The house was so quiet. I could hear the soft buzz of the air conditioner, but nothing else except my own breathing.

  Then there was a sound. I had the sense I had heard it a moment before—a small sound. Urgent.

  I sat up and tried to force my mind into full gear. What was it? Was it my imagination?

  It came again. A low squeak. Not quite a squeak—drawn out, then cut off, then—again, urgent.

  Kicking off the covers, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and sat still to listen.

  There it was again, louder. A person.

  Patrick Charles.

  I jumped onto the warm floor in my bare feet and padded across the hall to his room.

  Pushing open the door, I looked in. I saw nothing, heard nothing.

  “Patrick Charles?” I whispered.

  For a moment, nothing. Then a groan.

  I threw the door wide open and stumbled over to his bed. “Patrick Charles?” I said, louder, hearing panic in my voice.

  I tried to calm down. He probably had a stomach virus.

  I found his bed and sat down on the side of it. As my eyes adjusted I could see him curled up in a little ball under his blankets, only a tuft of his dark brown hair sticking out.

  I pulled the blanket off his head. “Patrick Charles, what’s wrong?” I forced my voice to stay quiet and gentle.

  His face was contorted in the moonlight that came through the closed blinds, and his eyes were squeezed shut. He said nothing.

  My heart raced faster. “Patrick Charles?” I clamped a hand to his shoulder.

  He opened his eyes and looked up at me, brow deeply creased. “It hurts, Em,” he moaned.

  This was more than just some stomach bug.

  “Where does it hurt?” I asked, throwing off the calmness.

  “Here,” he mumbled, but I couldn’t see his hands.

  I yanked off the blanket and looked. At first he appeared to be holding his crotch, but then I could see that his hand was riveted tightly against the hollow between his stomach and his right leg. He was curled tightly, knees almost to chest. He groaned again.

  “It really hurts, Em...” he choked.

  “Okay, I’ll get someone.” I rested my hand on his head for a second as I stood up, then I ran out of the room.

  I fumbled for the hall light switch as I ran, but didn’t find it, and kept on in the dark until I got to the stairs. I rushed down them, keeping a tight hold on the railing and propelling myself down as fast as I dared. “Mom! Dad!” I called.

  I got to the last few steps and jumped to the floor, then swung around the railing to the direction of Mom and Daddy’s bedroom. Things were clearer in the moonlight down here, and I rushed across the living room floor. “Mom! Daddy!”

  I reached their room just as the light turned on. Daddy opened the door and caught me by the shoulders as I rushed in. “Em! What’s wrong?”

  Beyond him, I could see mom in bed with her pink curlers and her white nightgown.

  “It’s Patrick Charles,” I breathed. “Something’s wrong.”

  Daddy squeezed my shoulders, then shoved me aside and ran past me. I looked after him, dazed, then as he disappeared up the stairs I turned back to Mom, my eyes probably wide with fear.

  She just stared at me for a moment, then she sat up and held out her arms. I ran straight to her, sat on the edge of the bed, and hugged her close, feeling the cotton of her nightgown against my cheek along with the rapid beating of her heart.

  “What is it, honey?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “He said it really, really hurts, right above his leg.”

  “Which leg?” she asked.

  “Right.”

  She gave a little gasp.

  “What is it, Mom?” I cried, hugging her tighter.

  “I don’t know. It just... might be appendicitis, Em.”

  Mom never called me “Em.” I rubbed her back with my hands.

  She held me for one more moment, then let go and pushed me away gently. She sprang out of bed and out of the room. “Bryan?” she called. I heard her go to the stairs and call up, “Bryan, do I need to call 911?”

  I couldn’t hear his answer, but the mere idea of 911 frightened me. I collapsed on the bed and rested my cheek on Mom’s warm pillow. The heat in my chest burst and ran in tears down my cheeks. What was wrong? Was it bad? I had no frame of reference to gauge how worried I should be.

  Never had I felt further away from that grown-up state of mind. The instinct that told people what to think and feel about the possibility of appendicitis and the severity of 911 calls was missing. In its place was a void of unspoken possibilities.

  I heard more shuffling, then Mom said, “Hello? My six-year-old son may have appendicitis. Yes. We’re not sure.” Then she lis
tened for awhile, then gave our address.

  I didn’t move. I should go; I should see if they needed my help. But they wouldn’t. They just had to wait for the ambulance to get here.

  “God,” I whispered. “Help him. Help him, God.” It was all I could think to say. God wouldn’t take my little brother away, would He? I knew He wouldn’t. This couldn’t be anything dangerous. Patrick Charles was just a normal little kid. Bad stuff didn’t happen to normal little kids.

  I heard heavy footsteps down the stairs and I looked out the door and saw a dim image of Daddy carrying Patrick Charles. “Get the car, honey. I’ll wait with him outside.”

  “Okay.”

  The heavy footsteps continued until a door opened and closed. Then Mom finally came back in.

  She didn’t even seem to notice me at first, but went straight to her closet. She pulled out some pants and a shirt, seeming to grab whatever was closest, and then turned around and started unbuttoning her nightgown. Then she saw me, still lying on her bed. She started talking while she undressed and hurried into her clothes. “Listen, honey. Dad and I have to go with Patrick Charles to the hospital. You’ll need to stay here; they won’t let you into the operating room, so there’s no reason for you to go. You can call for Jax to stay with you if you want.”

  “Okay,” I almost whispered as she buttoned up her shirt and slid into some shoes. She started yanking her curlers out and tossing them onto the dresser, leaving her hair bunched up all over her head. I watched in silence for a moment, then asked, “Mom?”

  “Yes, hon?” She didn’t turn around.

  “How dangerous is it?”

  She faced me. “Oh, Emily!”

  She hurried over and held me tight again.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetie. I should have explained. It can be dangerous, but since he’s probably not very far along, he should be okay. We just need to get it taken care of if that’s what it is. He’ll just need surgery.” She let go and looked me in the eyes. “Will you be okay here?”

  I nodded, thinking how pretty her eyes were, and wishing it were easier to talk to her.

  “Keep your phone with you. I really have to go now.” Running her fingers through her hair, she stepped away. “Love you.”

  I couldn’t say anything but I didn’t have to, because she rushed out and I heard the front door open and slam closed, and the whole house was silent.

  And I was alone.

  I fell back on the bed, heart pounding in the silence. How could I have been peacefully sleeping less than an hour ago?

  I couldn’t just lie there. I had to go up and get my phone, like Mom had told me. Reluctantly I left the warm, soft bed and hurried up to my dark, silent room to get it.

  When I did, I sat on my bed with it in my hand, just staring at the darkness.

  How long would this take? Surgery would mean taking, his appendix out, right? I wracked my brain to remember anatomy and physiology classes. Mom had said it could be dangerous. How dangerous? Was the surgery dangerous?

  All the thinking made me shiver.

  I opened the contacts on my phone. It wasn’t even four a.m. yet, but I felt that this was one time it would be okay to wake someone up.

  I hesitated, flipping between “J” and “O.” Mom had said I should call Jax over, but I had kept him up so late the night before—

  I settled on “O” and pressed her name with my finger. Clutching the phone to my ear, I listened to it ring. Once. Twice. A third time. Come on, Tobi. Pick it up. I’ll feel too guilty to try calling you a second time at this hour. Four. Five.

  Click. “Hello?”

  “Tobi!” I cried, startled by the sound of my own voice in the silence.

  “What’s wrong?” I could hear the sleepiness in her voice, and I pressed the phone tighter against my ear.

  “It’s Patrick Charles. Mom and Daddy needed to take him to the hospital. I’m just... I’m kindof scared.”

  Silence. Then, “Do you want to come over here?”

  I’d forgotten for a moment that she couldn’t drive. “Okay. I’ll... I’ll come.”

  “Come to the back door, sweetie. I’ll be there.”

  I shivered in the dark. “Okay.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” I choked. Then I hung up the phone.

  Mom hadn’t said for me not to leave. She’d only said I needed to stay because I couldn’t go with them. She wouldn’t mind.

  I found her keys in the bowl in the front entryway, locked all the doors, and headed to the minivan.

  The night was warm and dry, but I still shivered until my teeth chattered. I managed to unlock the door and climb inside, but my hands were trembling too much to get the key in the ignition.

  I couldn’t drive like this.

  I laid my hands on the steering wheel, rested my head on them, and tried to breath. The breaths came out in hiccups.

  I prayed. Help me calm down, please. Help me get safely to Tobi’s.

  Finally I managed a few deep breaths, then sat up, managed to clench my teeth into stillness, and focused on fitting the key in the ignition.

  I managed it, started the car, then gripped the wheel with both hands and breathed again.

  “He’s going to be okay,” I said out loud.

  That didn’t help.

  Breathing slowly, I backed out of the garage.

  It was a dark and silent ride. No one else seemed to be on the road this time of night—except a single pickup truck I passed going the opposite way.

  When I arrived, the Rivers’ house was dark save for a single light in an upper window. I parked at the end of the driveway, fearing that the noise would wake someone if I got too close to the house. I turned off the car, pocketed the keys, locked the door, and closed it as softly as I could. Then I hurried up to the house.

  I went around to the back, as Tobi had instructed, and when I got there the door opened.

  Tobi stood inside, in long sleeved mint pajamas with little dark green leaves sprinkled over them. Her long red hair was down, and her eyes sparkled in the fading moonlight.

  “Come in,” she whispered, reaching out and holding onto my arm. She pulled me in gently and closed the door.

  I found myself trembling again and clamped my jaws shut to keep my teeth from chattering.

  “Come on upstairs,” she said, and putting an arm around me, she led me through the kitchen and up the wooden stairs. I tried to ignore the shivers that each creak of the steps sent down my spine.

  When we reached a door at the top, she opened the door and I blinked in the sudden light. She pulled me in and closed the door, then sat me on the edge of the bed and settled herself next to me.

  It was a very small, very plain room. Nothing was in it except the twin bed we sat on, a nightstand and lamp next to it, and a dresser and a mirror on the opposite wall. It wasn’t at all like October. The nicest part of the room was a deep windowseat on one side that would look out towards sunset over the trees and the fields.

  The light from the lamp haloed her hair as she sat beside me.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  I forced my body to relax. “Patrick Charles. Mom and Dad took him to the hospital.”

  She laid a hand on my arm. “What happened?”

  “He was hurting, and they said it might be appendicitis. So they took him, but said I couldn’t come.” A lump rose in my throat, and I tried to swallow, but failed. “And I don’t know... what to worry about or how dangerous it is, exactly. What if something goes wrong with the surgery?”

  “Oh, Em...” Tobi reached out and held me close against her shoulder.

  I clung to her.

  “He’ll be okay, Em. Lots of children get appendicitis. God will protect him. Don’t be afraid. It’ll be all right.”

  She kept on talking in her soft, sweet voice, holding me with one arm and stroking my hair with the other.

  “It’s okay, Emily.”

  I normally liked for her to call
me “Em,” but in this moment of fear and uncertainty, I liked to hear my full name. It was more serious, and different, and seemed to hold the essence of who I was. And that included Patrick Charles being okay.

  I laid my head on her shoulder and let myself cry until I had stopped shaking and felt sleepy. Then I pulled back and fell wearily onto the bed.

  She reached to pull a blanket over me, and I closed my eyes.

  “Tobi?” I murmured.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you be my big sister?”

  She looked startled, and her eyes were hard to read. But then she smiled, so fondly, down at me.

  “I’ve never had a little sister before.” She reached out and laid her hand on my shoulder.

  I nodded, and opened my eyes just enough to see a fuzzy image of her face.

  “I think I’d like it,” she said, slowly, “I think... that you are very much like a little sister, Em.”

  I closed my eyes again and felt my mind drift away. “I want a big sister. You.”

  Her fingers squeezed my shoulder, and I sank further and further into unconsciousness.

  I didn’t know how long I’d slept when a voice woke me.

  “She’s here. Yeah. I think she just needed some sleep. I’ve been sitting with her.”

  I opened my eyes just a crack and saw that sunlight streamed into the little room. Tobi sat on the windowseat, softly silhouetted by the early light, a cell phone to her ear.

  “It’s okay. I’ll go back with her, and meet you there when she wakes up. Okay.” I heard her take a deep breath. “Thank you, Jax.”

  I reached a hand slowly over the soft blanket that covered me, and felt for my phone. It was gone.

  I opened my eyes wider as Tobi put the phone down. She turned to look at me, and I could barely see her smile against the faint light.

  “Good morning, little sis.”

  A broad smile shaped my lips, but it faded as I remembered Patrick Charles. “Have you heard anything about...”

  “Your mom called to check on you, but you were sound asleep.”

  I raised myself on one elbow. “And?” My chest tightened.

  “He’s okay.” She got up and came over to sit on the side of the bed, resting her hand on the mattress and leaning over me. “He’s out of surgery, but he’ll have to stay there for awhile.”