Painless

by S. A. Harazin

  Right away, I learn that not all dogs know how to swim. I pull off my shirt and shoes, jump in, and swim to Scruffy. I hold him up and take him to the shallow side of the pool where he climbs out and shakes water on me.

  It was time for me to get into the water anyway. The sun’s bright. I bet it’s already gotten hot.

  I’m like a vampire that needs to stay out of the sun. When I was a kid, I liked to look at blood. It fascinated me the way it would suddenly appear on my skin or mouth for reasons I couldn’t figure out. Then Nana taught me it meant danger.

  I have a vague memory of going to sleep in a car once, and when I woke, I was in the hospital.

  I sit next to Scruffy on the pool steps where the water comes up to my waist, and I pet him. I tell him I want to help him and how my grandmother died, and how my parents don’t care about me. I figure it’s okay to whine in self-pity to a dog. He won’t tell anybody how sad I am sometimes.

  I made the right decision to help Scruffy. He’s helping me back.

  I tell him I don’t know what I’m going to do, and I need his help. I massage Scruffy’s ears, and he licks me. I think he likes me now. I tell him about Luna and how I miss her, how I’m just another person she used to know. Scruffy stays sitting with his tongue hanging out the side.

  It’s like I’ve made a connection. How come a dog understands me and people don’t? Maybe I should get a dog.

  I get the stick, sit on the pool steps, and toss it into the shallow part a couple of feet away. Scruffy jumps in and sinks again. I pull him to me and let him sit next to me for a minute before I toss the stick. I do the same thing over and over, figuring that one of these days he’ll go farther out. I know how he feels. Sometimes I think I go after the prize and sink before I grab on to it. I’ll have to get Scruffy a life jacket. And a ball. He eats sticks.

  I dry Scruffy off, put him into the backseat of the Lexis, and drive to Cameron’s. He’s not on his front porch, and his van is gone. May as well do something else.

  I drive to the pet store and take Scruffy inside with me. Scruffy’s way too tired to pull and lunge. I buy him a life jacket, a bag of tennis balls, a tug toy, a box of good treats, and a hairbrush.

  Every morning for the next few days, I pick Scruffy up, go swimming, and take him home. Sometimes I hang out at Cameron’s for a few minutes and change lightbulbs or do something he can’t. Sometimes I don’t want to go home. Veronica’s there, and I like her, but it’s not the same anymore. In the evenings, I watch TV.

  “You have a dog in the pool wearing a life jacket,” Joe says on Friday.

  I swim to the side where Joe is and hang on. I hear Scruffy paddle after me. “I’ve been teaching him to swim, but I’m nervous about taking it off.”

  Joe rolls his eyes. “You’re teaching a dog to swim?”

  “Yes. It’s my job. You wanted me to show you I can be independent.”

  “You aren’t teaching him anything when he has to depend upon a life jacket.”

  “He’s supposed to be Cameron’s service dog, but he’s a scaredy-cat,” I say. “You remember Cameron? He was at Nana’s funeral and my birthday party.”

  “Funeral” and “birthday party” should never be used together in a sentence.

  Joe nods.

  I stand on the pool steps, call Scruffy, and then remove his life jacket. I throw a tennis ball and watch him paddle to it. Scruffy scoops it into his mouth and swims with his nose held high, the yellow ball glowing in the sunlight.

  “Did you see Luna on Monday?” Joe asks.

  I turn around. “Yes.” It’s been five days. Five long

  days. “Why?”

  “Her mother called me. She hasn’t heard from Luna in two months.”

  Scruffy swims to the steps. I clip the leash on his collar and lead him out of the pool. “She’s all right,” I say. “She works at the Holly Building. She’s been having roommate problems and car trouble. She doesn’t want her parents to know.”

  Joe raises his eyebrows. “She should call them.”

  Scruffy jumps on me, and I turn away. “Luna’s an adult.”

  “So was your dad.”

  “He’s been gone for years.”

  “There’s no difference,” he says loudly.

  “There is at least an eleven-year difference.”

  “Your grandmother was frantic when she hadn’t heard from your dad in two months. You were frantic. You cried every night.”

  “I don’t cry.”

  “Okay, so you howled. Don’t you remember how it felt?”

  My stomach clenches. I have a faint memory of my dad going away and not coming back. “Her cell phone’s damaged,” I say. “That’s why she hasn’t called.”

  “Tell her to call them. I leave for Belize tomorrow, and we need to come to an understanding. If you are irresponsible, you’re not going to be able to live here without supervision. You can have friends over here as long as Veronica says it’s okay, and you’re not to go anywhere unless somebody is with you.”

  “I’m eighteen,” I say. “I don’t need to be treated like I’m a kid.”

  “Just because you’re eighteen doesn’t mean you’re responsible. Actually it probably means I’m crazy for not taking you to Twin Falls for a week or hiring a full-time person.”

  I shrug. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “It’s not about what you do wrong. It’s about what you don’t know. Did you know your arm is bleeding? Did you know you have scratches all over your arms?”

  I look at both my arms and see blood from a scratch that runs from the middle of my arm to my wrist. “Scruffy gets excited when we play tug-of-war,” I say.

  Chapter 22

  After taking Scruffy home, I unlock my front door and walk inside.

  The house is quiet. Veronica’s around somewhere, maybe watching a court program on TV. It’s fine with me, but I think something else would be more interesting.

  She’s not in the living room so I stretch out on the sofa, feeling my cell phone in my pocket. I take it out and message Luna. I don’t usually call or message anybody unless I have a reason.

  Your parents called Joe looking for you.

  I sit up and set the phone down on the arm of the couch. It’s too early to take a nap, but I’m sleepy. I close my eyes. I hear Veronica come into the living room, and I open my eyes and watch her. She dusts the TV, the coffee tables, the end tables, and then me. She doesn’t say a word, but I have a feeling she wants me to do something like get out of the way and write the thank-you cards.

  I wonder what Spencer, Cameron, and Luna are doing today.

  I’m almost asleep when I hear Veronica yell, “David! Answer your cell phone! Do I have to do everything around here?”

  I sit and pick up my phone. “Hello.”

  “Hey, David,” Luna says, sounding out of breath.

  My heart speeds up. “You got my message?”

  “Yeah,” she says. “I called them.”

  Veronica turns on the TV. “Hold on,” I say and go into the kitchen. “Are you in trouble?”

  “They were worried about me. They’re not now.”

  “Your car’s fixed?” I ask.

  “I dropped it off this morning. It won’t be ready until tomorrow, but at least I have a cell phone now. Can you give me a ride home?”

  There’s no way I’ll say no. “Yes,” I say. I don’t know what Joe will do if he finds out. I hope Veronica doesn’t try to stop me.

  Luna gives me directions.

  I find Veronica in the study dusting and moving some of Joe’s stuff around. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say.

  She looks over at me. “Why?”

  “Joe said to stay out of the study.”

  She shrugs. “He won’t know. I’ve put the cards and letters on the de
sk where you can work on them without getting sidetracked.”

  “I will later, but Luna’s stranded,” I say. “I’m going to give her a ride.”

  Veronica nods. “You haven’t been showing you’re responsible,” she says.

  I hate looking at sympathy cards. It makes me feel like Nana died yesterday.

  I go to the garage and climb into the car. I open the garage door and back out. Ten minutes later I arrive at the auto repair shop. Luna’s waiting out front for me.

  It’s turning out to be a great day, and I want the afternoon to last forever.

  We talk as I drive her home. Her mother cried and cried when Luna called. She thought something had happened to Luna. They were either going to call the police or come to Waterly. They showed up unexpectedly another time during the middle of the night after not hearing from Luna. They made airline reservations, took an evening flight, rented a car, and went to Luna’s apartment. There were about four or five people passed out on the floor. There was garbage and dirty dishes all over the place. Her parents went to a motel and left the next day. Her mother called later on and said she’d never been so disappointed in her.

  “Worse words ever,” I say.

  “I hate to call because I feel like they’re disappointed that I work at low-paying jobs, I take courses online, and my car’s a piece of junk. I’m not getting anywhere.” She smiles. “They don’t see how hard I’m trying.”

  My grandparents never expected me to get anywhere, but I had speech therapy because it was hard to understand me when I talked. I had the best doctors, the best clothes, the best tutors. They made me practice playing the piano as exercise for my fingers and to help my hand-eye coordination. They built me a nature trail.

  Some of the houses on Luna’s street have junk in the yard. Others have uncut lawns or are for sale. I park in front of a small apartment building with a concrete yard. I imagine hanging out with Luna for the rest of the day. Maybe we’ll go to dinner or to a movie. I don’t know what. “You live alone now?” I ask.

  “My roommate moved before I had the chance,” she says. “I’d invite you inside, but I don’t have air-conditioning.”

  “That’s fine,” I say, not looking at her. “We could do something else.”

  “There’s a party tonight.”

  “Sounds good,” I say.

  “Pick me up at nine?”

  She probably only needs a ride, but I’m thinking maybe she’ll discover she really likes me. I don’t have anything to lose. Besides, I’m following my doctor’s orders to get out more, even if Joe doesn’t want me to do anything. Anyway, he hasn’t left for Belize yet. His rules aren’t in effect yet.

  Thirty minutes later, I’m walking in the front door at my house. I hear the TV in the living room, and I go to check if Veronica’s there.

  She is. “What are you watching?” I ask.

  “Flip This House.”

  I sit on the sofa. “What’s it about?”

  “Remodeling houses.” She stares at the TV. “We need to remodel our house before we sell it.”

  “Sell it? Why?”

  “We want to buy a condo.”

  “Where?”

  “Closer to our kids.”

  That’s not anywhere around here. Her kids are adults and live in other states.

  “I want to be able to spend time with my grand­children,” she says. “I barely know them.” Veronica keeps talking. “I found your birth certificate on the floor in the study,” she says. “It’s on the desk. You should put it back in the safe.”

  “I will.”

  “Now,” she says and looks at me with a frown. “And do the thank-you notes.”

  Chapter 23

  I go to the study and sit in the chair at the desk. I have about a hundred thank-you notes to write, but the sym­pathy cards are mixed in with a bunch of junk mail. I’m thinking I’m a failure for not reading the cards sooner, but I couldn’t stand to look at them. I’d write something special on each one, but I don’t know what to say.

  My birth certificate is on top of the sympathy cards. I pick it up. Underneath it is a legal envelope. I pull a letter out. It’s from STP Investigations.

  Joe told me about this. He didn’t say he had an official letter.

  It contains a list of dates and times and billing hours, but what’s interesting is that two months ago the detective located a woman named Elizabeth Tharp, formerly known as Carlee Hart. Her address is given along with the time, place, and date of her upcoming wedding.

  Joe forgot to mention that.

  The detective has written, Does not want to be bothered. Threatened to call police.

  Next to the info, Joe has scribbled, TC to Stanley. Investigation closed.

  That was a few days before Nana died.

  All these years I’ve wanted to believe my mom had good reasons for dumping me, and maybe she did, but she could’ve taken a few minutes to tell Nana thanks or tell her what she knows about my dad. Nana never asked for anything else except for me to have a good life.

  I put the birth certificate in the safe and sort through the cards and letters, hoping to find out more. Maybe there is a stupid sympathy card here. Maybe my mom even wrote me a letter.

  I wonder what else is in the other pile of papers on his desk. I know I shouldn’t snoop. I have a conscience.

  I’m wondering why Joe wouldn’t tell me everything. Like he keeps me hanging about moving to Twin Falls. He holds it over my head like a threat.

  Like that trip to Belize he had to take alone. Every year he goes on a trip alone to meet somebody.

  I don’t have anything else to do but write thank-you notes, so I search the study.

  Thirty minutes later, I haven’t found anything. I start writing thank-you notes and have a stack finished when Veronica knocks.

  “I have to go,” she says. She picks up the stack of cards. “You did great.”

  “You saw the letter. Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask Veronica.

  “It’s none of my business,” she says and puts down the cards. “But you needed to know. Joe made the decision not to tell you, but it’s because he didn’t want you hurt.”

  I think keeping secrets hurts.

  “Luna invited me to a party tonight,” I say.

  “Go. Have fun but no drugs, alcohol, or sex. Be home before midnight.”

  “Gotcha,” I say.

  Chapter 24

  A big sign in front of a ranch-style house two blocks from Luna’s reads Happy Birthday, Jasmine.

  Luna says Jasmine works in the lab and her boyfriend, Lucas, is giving her a birthday party. Jasmine was Luna’s former roommate.

  “And you still get along with her?” I ask.

  “I don’t hold grudges,” Luna says. “But I have to warn you, this might turn out badly.” Luna tells me Jasmine has been planning on breaking up with Lucas, but she couldn’t do that when she found out he was giving her a party.

  We’re an hour late because I got caught up in writing and searching the study again for more secrets Joe’s hiding. I didn’t find anything else.

  I open the front door for Luna and follow her inside.

  Music plays, people dance, others talk and laugh. Most seem to be in their early twenties. Luna takes my hand and we walk across the room.

  It’s like a dream. Her hand feels good holding mine. I don’t have anything to worry about. Not tonight. It’s only us at a crowded party.

  We stop to talk to four people standing in a circle.

  “This is David,” Luna says. She introduces Jasmine, Piper, Kirk, and Gerald.

  “Holy shit,” Piper says. “David Hart. I thought—I thought you didn’t make it.” She looks at the others. “He was really sick a few years ago and in the hospital. When I was a medical assistant, I used to sing to him, but then I went bac
k to school to become an x-ray tech. Holy shit, David. You’re okay now? They cured you?”

  “I’m okay,” I say and smile at her. “But I’m not cured.”

  “David has an extremely rare disease, and he doesn’t feel pain,” Piper says.

  “So what’s that like?” Gerald asks.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Not feeling pain?”

  I glance at Luna. “It’s normal for me,” I say with a sigh. “I don’t have anything to compare it with.”

  But it hurts not to feel.

  Because I have messed up lives.

  “It would be wonderful not to feel pain,” Jasmine says.

  “Oh no, it isn’t,” Piper says. “Pain tells you when there is something wrong. It’s there for a reason.”

  “Have you ever been in trial drug studies?” Gerald asks.

  I shake my head. “Not really. It’s dangerous. Experimental drugs can kill you.”

  “How do you think discoveries are made?” Gerald says.

  I know how discoveries are made. “What I’m saying is that you really have to be careful with any experimental drug or treatment,” I try to explain. “And nobody’s interested in spending money researching a rare disease. I’d actually try an experimental drug if there was one.”

  “I think money for research should go to common diseases like cancer,” Jasmine says. “Too many people die from cancer.”

  “Where’s Lucas?” Luna asks Jasmine.

  Jasmine rolls her eyes. “Who cares?”

  I stare at Jasmine, thinking she should care since Lucas is giving her the party.

  “When are you moving?” Gerald asks Luna.

  “One week,” she says.

  “Just give me a call if you need help. You renting a U-Haul?”

  I take a deep breath. I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. Pretty soon the population of Waterly will be down to one if everybody starts moving on to bigger and better things.

  “I’m giving away what I can’t carry with me,” Luna says. “Come on by. I have some good junk.” She smiles at him.