Leaving Scarlet

by J. Lynn Bailey

  “Casey?” I manage. “How’s Casey?” I ask again. Louder.

  “He’ll be fine, Cash. A road to recovery, just like you, but he’ll be fine.”

  The nurse walks in. “How are you feeling this morning, Mr. Atwood?” she asks.

  “Like a fucking bull ran over me.”

  She hits a few buttons on a machine. Grabs a capped needle from the front of her scrubs. “On a scale of one to ten—one being minimal pain and ten being the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your life—what number would you give it?”

  “A two.”

  “Well, from your elevated pulse and your list of injuries and the look on your face, I’m going to go ahead and give you this anyway.”

  Katie, it says on her name tag.

  “Cash has never been one for pain medication, Katie. Since he was a boy, he’d rather just suffer through it.” My mom shakes her head. “He’s my stubborn one.”

  Katie shoves the tip of the needle into my IV.

  It only takes seconds for my body to relax.

  “Stubborn as the day is long,” my mom says, putting her hand over mine.

  Katie is cute, I think to myself as my head begins to feel light and good. If she let me and I was feeling like myself, I would take her in the bathroom real quick and let her know how cute I thought she really was, only if my chest didn’t feel like cracking open every time I breathed.

  “Several cracked ribs have to be pretty painful,” Katie says to me. “Coupled with a surgery and a brain contusion, I’d say you need a few days off.”

  My head feels good, my body feels better, and I’ve forgotten how pain medication can feel on a body like mine.

  “What day is it?”

  “November 20,” Katie says.

  The finals were on November 15. I try to do the math in my head.

  “Five days I’ve been here?” The pitch of my voice grows higher.

  “Five days,” my mom says as she watches Katie check a few more things.

  She turns to us. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.” She touches my mom’s hand.

  My mom has a way of getting everyone to fall in love with her.

  “Nurse Katie, can I have a sponge bath?” Something I wouldn’t normally ask, so I chalk it up to the pain meds.

  She laughs, and she doesn’t miss a beat as she says, “Oh, Cash, we’ve already done that.”

  Immediately, my face grows red hot. I look at my mom.

  “Hey, you needed to get clean. And don’t worry; Roger did a wonderful job.”

  My head falls back against the mattress. I’m partly grateful it was a man and not Katie who saw, well, everything.

  My mom stands and kisses my forehead. “You did a noble thing, Bandit,” she whispers, and her eyes fill with tears.

  “Mom”—I roll my eyes—“please don’t do this,” I beg and reach for her hand.

  I can watch the sad dog commercials, sappy movies, my friends go down on bulls, but watching my mom cry is one thing I just can’t handle.

  It has been years since she called me Bandit, a nickname I gave myself when I was little. I stole from the rich—my family—and gave to the poor, which were animals I found over the years.

  “He’s my brother. I couldn’t just sit there. Besides, I would have done it for anyone.”

  Laurel Atwood wipes her tears with a tissue she grabbed and ignores what I just said. “These are happy tears, Cash; don’t worry.” She bends and kisses me on the head again. “You’re still my favorite. Don’t tell your brothers.”

  But the truth is, Mom has said that to each of us brothers, and we all know it. Mom has a heart capable of loving five grown men and the entire community of Dillon Creek. Hell, Katie, the nurse, too, if she wanted to join the Atwood clan.

  “All right, Mr. Atwood, I’m going to go and check on your brother. Dr. Sullivan will be coming around about three this afternoon to give us a report and a release date.”

  I don’t say anything, just allow my head to fall back against the mattress again, and I close my eyes.

  My mom leaves.

  After a few minutes, I hear footsteps, and they’re light. But I don’t bother opening my eyes, assuming it’s just another nurse checking the goddamn machines I’m connected to. The bed shakes only slightly, and I see Nurse Katie crawling on top of me. My eyes start at her mouth and move to her pink scrub top and then to her bare legs that are now straddling me.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper breathlessly as she begins to kiss my mouth—at first soft and then harder, like I prefer it. My hands go under her top, and I undo her bra, throwing it to the floor. I reach to the front and take her breasts in my hands, and they fit perfectly. One big handful for each. “God,” I whisper into her mouth.

  “I don’t have panties on,” she says.

  “You don’t have panties on?” I pull the covers back, and I’m ready for her as I bounce to attention.

  Nurse Katie pulls herself up so that she’s directly over me. But she doesn’t move at all.

  “What’s wrong?”

  But she doesn’t answer. She just stares at me.

  “Katie?”

  “Cash?” I hear her say, but still, her lips don’t move. “Cash?”

  “What?”

  “CASH!”

  My eyes shoot open, and Katie is at the end of my bed, fully clothed. A giggle escapes her mouth as we both look down at my dick that is standing at attention, the white sheet draped lightly over my body.

  “I can explain.”

  Katie shakes her head. “The next time you yell my name, Cash, make good and damn sure that it’s an emergency.”

  And with that, she leaves.

  Fuck.

  Once it’s in its normal position, I try to get some sleep, and the drugs allow me to do that.

  I’ll deal with my shit life tomorrow.

  6

  Scarlet: Age 5

  Chicago, Illinois

  Marmie, the woman who takes care of me, showed up when my mother went on her first big trip for work. She helped me address and mail the letter to Cash. I had known my mother wouldn’t. Partly because I thought she didn’t want me—or us—to have any attachment to Dillon Creek. But she’d said she was still going to let me go visit Grandma and Granddad. I thought she’d allow me to do this, so she could have time to herself. Whatever the reason, I was dying to get back home.

  Last night, I’d had a dream I was back in Dillon Creek at Grandma and Granddad’s house, playing with July, August, September, and October. Granddad was watching his nightly news while reading the newspaper, and Grandma was cooking dinner and talking to her cousin, Mabe, on the telephone. I’d felt at peace.

  It was hard, moving to a big city. People flew past you like they were late for work. There was no Main Street but a million different streets that went this way and that way and all kinds of stoplights. The parks were big—too big, if you asked me. The kids stuck to themselves. And I didn’t know anyone.

  I didn’t see Chief McBride walking down to get his morning mail.

  I didn’t see Juniper setting up the outside flower display for her mom.

  I didn’t get candy from Cranky Carl.

  None of it.

  I didn’t get cheek pinches from The Ladybugs. That, I’d thought, I’d never miss, but I did.

  I missed feeling connected.

  It was overwhelming—city life.

  With Marmie, I’d learned to move with the sea of people when the red Don’t Walk turned to a green Walk.

  Mom had said the schools were better here in Chicago, but as far as I could see, nothing had been great about Chicago except Marmie.

  There was no Cash here. The kids seemed to stick to themselves, which was fine. I’d just prefer to keep my friends at home, get my schoolwork done, and wait for summer. I could survive nine months in Chicago if that meant I’d get three months of summer with my grandparents.

  “Scarlet?” Marmie peeked in the door of my room. “Would you like to r
ead a book?”

  Marmie was one hundred years old—that was what she’d told me anyway. And she had white hair—not to be confused with gray, she always clarified. She had the softest, wrinkliest hands I’d ever touched. She cooked lasagna and homemade soup and macaroni and cheese. She was a retired school teacher, so she helped me with my schoolwork if I needed it. However, I didn’t ever really need help, but I pretended to need it sometimes, so she felt needed.

  “Yes!” I squealed.

  “Shall we pick up with Harry Potter where we left off last night?”

  Marmie didn’t live with us. She had an apartment on the other side of town. She took two buses to get here in the morning. She said her husband had died in his sleep two years ago and that I was a bright light that made her days better. I liked to make people feel better. And, I’d tell you what, if I were going to heaven anytime soon, I hoped it was in my sleep.

  I took Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone from my nightstand, and Marmie and I headed for the living room. Our apartment was large, and it was on the twenty-second floor. It overlooked Chicago.

  Mother would be the first one to tell you that she worked hard for what we had, and that was why we had the things we did, but there were things she couldn’t do—and being there for me all the time was one thing because, as she put it, she simply couldn’t do everything.

  We settled onto the couch, and Marmie let me read. She was always so surprised that I could read Harry Potter books when I was only five, but I’d explained to her that when my grandma used to read to me, I’d escape to another world, and I really liked the escape. My grandparents couldn’t keep up with the books I wanted to read, so Granddad had taught me how to read at four. I was an anomaly, as Grandma had put it.

  When we finished the chapter, I asked Marmie if she had a father.

  “Yes, I did. Though he wasn’t a very good one.”

  “All kids have a dad, right? I mean, the way I see it, God chose a mom and a dad and then put a seed inside the mommy’s belly, and then a kid pops out three years later.”

  Marmie laughed. I loved the way her laugh echoed in the apartment. It sounded how fur felt. It was soft and warm, and it danced.

  “You know, Scarlet, there are good dads. There are not-so-good dads. And, yes, everyone has a dad. But maybe you’re not supposed to find yours.”

  I let Marmie’s words trail down my arms and sink into my skin, and I didn’t push the issue further. Maybe she was right; maybe I wasn’t supposed to find my father.

  Later that night, after Marmie made me take a bath and I went to bed, I heard my mother come home from work. This was nothing new to me. She always came home after I went to bed. Even when we’d lived in Dillon Creek.

  My mother walked to my bedroom door and peeked in.

  She didn’t say anything.

  She didn’t give me a kiss or a hug or show me an act of love. She walked away.

  I knew my mother didn’t hate me, and I knew she loved me in some weird way.

  I tried to behave. Tried to do as she asked. Tried never to disappoint her. It seemed though that she was always disappointed, and I didn’t know how to fix that.

  I wished I had September. My eyes filled with tears, and I tried my best not to let them fall. Mother would not appreciate that. Instead, I put my head under my favorite blanket, so no one could see, and I allowed them to silently fall.

  The next morning, Mother was already gone, but Marmie was making my favorite breakfast—strawberry pancakes.

  A box sat on the counter at my perch, the place I usually sat when Marmie cooked so we could talk about life.

  “Morning, Marmie,” I said sleepily. My blanket dangled from my fingertips as I climbed up into the chair.

  Marmie reached over the counter and touched my cheek. “Good morning, sweet girl. Looks like you have a package.”

  “For me? I never get packages.”

  “Well, open it up and see what’s inside,” Marmie said as she wiped her hands on the kitchen towel and then rested them on her hips.

  After several attempts at ripping off the tape with my hands, Marmie came in with the scissors and gently cut along the break in the box. Inside was my September and a note from my grandmother.

  Oh, baby girl. How we miss you.

  How are you enjoying Chicago?

  We can’t wait until June. Granddad and I have so many plans for the three of us. We’ll camp in the backyard in a tent, like we did last summer. We’ll take afternoon strolls down Main Street to The Rusty Nail to get the best root beer floats ever made. You can play with Cash. Boy, does he miss you.

  Anyhow, I thought I’d send you September. She said she was getting awfully lonely without you.

  We love you, Scarlet Jean. Keep your head up, okay?

  Love,

  Grandma

  Carefully, I took September out of the box. She was in a new dress, which Grandma must have made. In the bottom of the box, there were ten calendar pages, labeled September, October, November, December, January, February, March, April, May, and June, all with the year 1998 or 1999. Also on top of each page was written, Countdown to Home.

  Overwhelmed with joy, I tucked September under my arm, took the calendar pages from the box, and ran to my room to figure out the best spot for them on my desk before school.

  On our walk to school—the best prep school in the greater Chicago area, as my mother always reminded me—I excitedly told Marmie about September and how she was wise and beautiful and loving.

  “She sounds like a wonderful lady.”

  “Marmie, she’s not really alive.” I kicked a rock and then looked up at her. “I’m so glad I have you.”

  Marmie didn’t say anything, but I could tell that what I’d said made her eyes water.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry, Marmie.”

  She stopped, which made me stop because we were joined at the hands.

  Marmie looked down at me. “Scarlet, do you believe that things work out for a reason? That, sometimes, if we’re lucky enough, we get to meet people who change our lives?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know that I’ve thought about it like that.”

  “Well, you, young lady, have changed my life, and I’m equally just as glad to have you in my life.”

  I nodded, and then we continued to walk to school.

  I realized that I really enjoyed our morning walks to school together.

  Just me, Marmie, a big city, and nothing but time.

  7

  Cash: Age 6

  Dillon Creek, California

  “I’m not going to school, Mom,” I said, locked in the bathroom. “Not without Scarlet.”

  “Cash,” she sighed against the bathroom door. “I’m not a homeschool teacher. I’m your mother. and it’s my job to take care of you. Taking you to school is part of that job. So, the way I see it, you have two choices. One, you stay locked in the bathroom, but there is no chasing bulls and no outside play for the rest of the week. Or, two, you unlock the door, go to school, and everything will go along just as it should.”

  “Come on, Cash!” Casey wailed. “I need to use the bathroom, Mom!”

  It was a tough decision. But if I stayed confined to the house, my brothers would drive me crazy.

  “Fine.” I unlocked the door, grabbed my Hey Arnold! lunchbox from the bathroom counter, and made my way outside. “I’ll be in the truck.”

  Conroy, Calder, Casey, and Colt followed and loaded up in the truck, and Mom took us to school.

  “Why do you always have to be a jerk, Cash?” Casey whispered. “So what that your best friend moved away? Get over it and move on.”

  I took my fist and shoved it in my brother’s face, and Mom grabbed my fist from the front seat.

  “Not in the car, Cash Atwood!”

  “But, Mom! Casey is being a jerk!”

  “I didn’t say anything.” Casey held his hands up in a defensive state.

  “I hope your face hurts,” I muttered und
er my breath.

  My brothers—except for Colt, the youngest—hopped out of the truck at Dillon Creek Elementary for the first day of school.

  I stopped before I hopped out. “Mom? Did you mail the letter to Scarlet?”

  “I did. It should be there in a week or so.”

  I nodded. I wanted to tell Mom that I was sorry. I wanted to apologize for almost making us late, but I didn’t. Instead, I gave her a smile and shut the truck door.

  “I’ll pick you boys up after school.” I heard my mom call as Colt started to cry, watching us leave.

  Conroy told Calder to take Casey to class, and Conroy gently took me by the back of the neck. “Come on, baby brother. Let’s get you to class.”

  Before he dropped me off, he said, “I know you’re sad because Scarlet left. But listen, you be good at school today, and I’ll have a surprise for you after school. Okay?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Hey,” he said and grabbed my chin. “Are you happy with life?”

  I shrugged.

  “You’ve got a roof over your head, two parents who love you, and your brothers. Chin up, buttercup.”

  I smiled and tried not to laugh.

  Conroy smiled, ruffled my hair, and said, “Get to class, or Mom will have my ass.”

  I laughed, and Conroy pushed me through the door.

  Conroy is the best big brother in the history of all big brothers.

  I turned back to tell him so, but he was already gone.

  Mom was waiting for us in the big blue truck at the corner. We piled in the truck, all abnormally tall and lanky for our ages. Mom always said we ate her out of house and home—whatever that meant. She asked how the first day of school was as Colt kissed my cheek.

  “I missed you, Cashy! I want to go to school too!”

  “Not too much longer, buddy,” I said and pulled myself from his grasp.

  When Mom pulled into the ranch, Conroy told Mom that we’d be to the house soon.

  “Come on, bud. You had a good day, so I have your surprise in the back barn.”