Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9)

by Heather Wardell

  "Or I guess you'll have to miss it and it'll be just the four of us."

  Mom laid a subtle but clear emphasis on "four", and I knew she didn't care if I went. She probably didn't care if any of us went, since she'd never particularly liked Dad's mother, but she would prevent her daughter from skydiving if it killed her.

  I glanced at Kim, who was staring at her plate like it might tell her what to do, then made myself say, "But Kim's skydive is that day," hoping she wanted me to.

  "Yeah," she said immediately, to my relief. "I can't change it."

  Mom gave her the most theatrical shocked expression ever. "You said you weren't going to do it. You didn't lie to me, did you?"

  The awkward silence lasted only a few seconds but it felt like forever until Kim said quietly, her voice shaking, "I told you before. I am doing it."

  "And I'm going too," I put in, not wanting Kim to feel alone.

  The shocked look I got seemed a little more real. "Oh, so you don't really have a run? You're lying to me now too?"

  "Enid," Dad murmured, but she ignored him and said, "Well, Megan?"

  "I do have a run. But afterwards I'm going to watch Kim."

  "I'll go to Grandma's," Brandon put in, but for once he was ignored.

  "I can't believe my own daughters would lie to me like that. Kim, you promised you wouldn't go. You promised!"

  She had indeed, but under huge emotional pressure. Breaking a promise made like that, one that should never have been demanded, didn't seem wrong to me. It seemed like the only intelligent thing to do.

  Kim stared at the table then raised her head and looked Mom in the eye. "I changed my mind. I'm doing it."

  My heart raced for her. She was saying all the right things but I could hear fear in her voice. I didn't want her to back down, and I knew all too well how hard it was to go against the conditioning of a lifetime.

  "But what do the doctors--"

  Kim sat up straighter in her chair and took a deep breath. "Mom." Her firmer, more confident, tone came through just on the single word, and even more when she went on. "I've always wanted to do this and now I am."

  "Did you even ask them? I'll call tomorrow and--"

  "No." Kim said it calmly and coolly, but with enough weight to stop Mom. "You won't. I have talked to them. It's my health and my life, and I believe I'll be fine. I'm doing it."

  A friend in high school had complained to me once, "When my mom gets mad she storms out and it's awkward." I'd informed her she was lucky, since it was far more awkward when an angry mother didn't storm out. Mine never did, instead staying put and letting her emotions soak into us all like poison.

  This time, she said, "Well, clearly my opinion doesn't matter, since neither of my daughters cares what I think. Fine, do what you want," then sat silently staring at her untouched sliver of cake. She never ate much of what she made, insisting instead that her family should have the best share. For the first time, I wondered if she really believed that or thought she should feel that way so pretended she did. Maybe my mom and I were more alike than I'd ever thought.

  Kim's eyes met mine and she gave me the tiniest shrug. I returned an equally tiny nod. I knew what she meant and she was right: it could have gone a lot worse.

  It felt wrong to eat my cake while my mother was mad at me, but I wanted to taste its sweetness so after a moment of silence I pulled the plate toward me and picked up my fork.

  I'd just placed my pre-loaded bite in my mouth when Brandon said, "Mom, can I have your cake if you're not eating it?"

  She silently pushed the plate over.

  Brandon, apparently not bothered by the tense atmosphere, demolished the cake in a moment, and I felt his eyes on me before he said, "Is there any more, Mom?"

  "No," she said, sounding like the weight of the planet was on her shoulders. "That recipe makes a tiny cake."

  "But a delicious one." Dad's voice was too hearty for the room, like someone trying to perk up a funeral.

  She didn't respond.

  "Megaroni, I'm still hungry. Can I have yours?"

  I looked up, cupping my hand protectively around the plate. "No."

  "Split it with me? Come on, you don't need all that."

  The guy who'd already eaten two pieces was telling me I'd had too much? I said "No" again, trying to copy Kim's earlier example and keep my voice calm.

  Mom's hands hit the table. "Really, Megan. Didn't we raise you to share?"

  Guilt swept me in an instant but I fought through it. No, they hadn't. They'd raised me to collapse like a bridge built on wet sand. Brandon didn't want to share anyhow. He wanted to take from me. He was only nice to me when he wanted something, and barely even then. I swallowed hard, knowing I was right but feeling sick about insisting on it, then said, "He's had two pieces. This is mine."

  "Megan!"

  "Yeah," Brandon said. "You have to share."

  I focused on him since it was easier than arguing with Mom. "You've never shared with me, so no, I don't have to."

  "This bean counting, Megan. So unattractive. Just be nice to your brother."

  I looked at Mom. She stared back. I didn't know if she truly believed I should give up my cake to Brandon or whether she just wanted peace, but either way I knew what I wanted to do. It wasn't about bean counting, wasn't even about whether Brandon shared with me. It was simply about how I felt inside. I took those feelings and turned them into words. "It's mine. I want it. So I'm eating it."

  "Keith, do something!"

  We all looked to Dad.

  He cleared his throat. Took a sip of his coffee. Cleared his throat again.

  Then he said, like he wanted to get the words out before he changed his mind, "It's Megan's. It's not right to make her give it away."

  His words hung in the air, almost visible against the shocked silence. I gave him a small smile, surprised and touched by his agreement, and he smiled back.

  "But she won't share, and she's supposed to." Brandon sounded like his world had been turned upside down. I wanted to laugh at his confused tone but I managed to keep myself under control.

  Mom shook her head slowly. "I never thought I'd see the day, Keith. You encouraging your daughter to be selfish. Don't you want her to be better than that?"

  A number of answers raced through my head, ranging from "I'm just his daughter now?" to "what about how selfish Brandon is?" I kept them to myself, though, wanting to hear what Dad said.

  His expression suggested he was also testing and discarding response after response, but eventually he said, "I've never really thought about it, but I think I should have. I guess I want my daughter, all my kids, to take care of others and themselves. That's the best way they can be, I think. Not always taking, not always giving. Balanced."

  I'd never thought I'd hear something so philosophical from my dad, but it rang a bell right down in my soul.

  Pure selfishness wasn't good. I had to wonder how happy Brandon really was, pushing everyone to give him what he wanted and never giving back. But pure selflessness wasn't any better, and was probably even more destructive to the person.

  To me.

  I'd given up long runs and prep periods and countless hours of my life to people who didn't even notice never mind appreciate it. I didn't want to be a taker, but there was a lot of space between that and where I'd been. I didn't need to bend over backward for people who wouldn't lift a finger for me. Though it was only about cake, I'd taken a huge step in that direction today, and apparently Dad approved.

  Mom didn't say another word but began clearing the table while Kim and I ate our desserts.

  It did feel a little awkward, eating cake under the weight of my brother's angry glare, and a deep-down part of me did feel like I'd been rude and was upset at what I'd done though the rest was delighted, but after standing up for myself for once and making it stick chocolate had never tasted sweeter.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Though I received no phone calls from my mother in the days befo
re Kim's skydiving, I knew she was angry and upset. Her silence gave it away, since ordinarily she'd have been calling to make sure I had bought a present for my sister's birthday. This year she probably didn't even think I should get her one. I did, though, and I'd decided to buy her the DVD of her skydive so she could relive it over and over.

  Andrew and I did our sixteen-k run together then had lunch, and after our now-usual hug goodbye he surprised me by giving my shoulder a squeeze and saying, "Good luck this afternoon."

  I laughed. "I'm not the one jumping."

  "True, but sometimes it's harder to watch someone else do it."

  Since he'd had several friends skydive, I suspected he knew what he was talking about, but I still didn't remotely expect the terror that flooded me as I watched Kim get ready.

  She was nervous, understandably, but also deliriously excited. Her instructor Ross, a tall handsome blond man whose care for my sister touched me and made it clear to me why she'd fallen for him, walked her and me through everything she needed to know. That finished, he told me he'd make sure she landed safely, and I told him I'd make sure my friend Andrew beat him up if he didn't, and Kim giggled for a second then laughed more hysterically then burst into tears.

  Ross wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "It's okay. You're going to love it."

  She turned into him and pressed her forehead to his chest, and he wound his other arm around her and held her close. She said something I couldn't hear and he said, "Yes, everyone." Another comment from her was answered with, "Of course, aren't I part of everyone?" and she laughed again but without the hysteria.

  She stepped away from him and rubbed her eyes. "Sorry. I'm just a little scared."

  I did my best to sound unconcerned so I wouldn't add my own worries to hers. "If you weren't, I'd think there was something wrong with your head."

  We all chuckled and Ross said, "Ready to fly, Kim?"

  Her eyes wide, she stared at me.

  "Go for it," I said. "But make sure you come back. I won't be able to handle the 'I knew I was right' stuff from Mom if you don't."

  She gave a startled laugh. "I promise. I won't do that to you." Then she stepped forward and hugged me hard. "Thank you," she whispered. "You don't know... it means so much..."

  I squeezed her tight. "I'm so excited for you. Go live your dream."

  She tightened her grip then stepped back. "Well. Hey, can you hold this?" She held out the birthday card I'd given her.

  "You got it. I'll be waiting for you."

  Ross smiled at me then took my only sister, who until recently had a major heart condition, to the tiny plane out of which she'd soon jump.

  My own heart racing, I stood with the friends and families of the other jumpers and watched the plane soar into the air and build up its altitude.

  "Look!"

  We all looked where the excited kid had pointed, and saw something dropping from the sky. I'd been told Kim would go third, so I watched but didn't feel too terrified. The second diver appeared, then the third, a strangely misshapen lump because it was Kim bound to Ross.

  My hands tingling with nerves and damp with sweat, I watched them plummet. Too fast. Wasn't it too fast? It had to be.

  I locked my arms around myself. Kim. God.

  It was hard to see from the ground, but they both seemed to have their arms and legs outstretched like they were floating. Floating on the air. Though my fear of heights meant I'd never know, I did wonder what that would feel like.

  After a few more terrifying seconds, a parachute billowed up from their connected bodies. I saw it catch them, saw them jerk upwards, and winced in sympathy at what I assumed would have been painful.

  I probably didn't have to, though, because in a moment I could hear my sister screaming, "This is so cool!"

  Everyone laughed, and I relaxed, although when she and Ross neared the ground I tensed again remembering how many "I broke my leg on the landing" stories I'd read online.

  Kim and Ross landed perfectly, though, and the glow on her face made my throat tighten. She'd done exactly what she came to do and I couldn't have been happier for her.

  When Ross had unbuckled and undone all the straps that held them together, he said, "Well? What did you think?"

  She glanced at me, her face alight with happiness and triumph and something more, and before I could begin to unpack the 'something more' she spun around and kissed him full on the mouth.

  He pulled her into his arms at once and returned her kiss, taking his time and ignoring the good-natured hooting from his fellow instructors, and I realized that now she'd done exactly what she came to do.

  No more waiting to see what life gave her. Now she had the confidence to go after anything she wanted.

  Chapter Thirty

  When I walked into the staff room, the teachers sitting at the table looked up with varying degrees of amusement and horror and relief on their faces, and scattered as if they'd been waiting for me to set them free. Amanda stayed put, the only one who hadn't muttered an excuse and fled the room, with an expression I recognized all too well: her "I'm right and everyone else is wrong" face. "Well, thank God you're finally here," she said. "Where've you been all day? Or all week for that matter?"

  "I've been in my room, I guess." I would have stayed there today as well, since I found staying in my classroom to read or chat with Tosca far more relaxing than braving the staffroom and Amanda's complaints, but I'd run out of lunch food that didn't require microwaving and the only microwave in the school was in the staffroom. I put my frozen lunch in to cook then the silence grew so heavy that I had to ask, "Why did everybody leave like that?"

  She shook her head. "Because they're idiots. And I'm not telling you what I told them because you'll probably agree with them and then I'll have to think you're an idiot too."

  I glanced at the microwave's clock, seeing it counting down far too slowly for my taste. I knew full well I was supposed to ask Amanda what she meant and then side with her over whatever foolishness she had come up with, but I didn't want to. So instead I said, "Okay. Hey, have you decided what you're going to be for Halloween? It's on Monday and I still don't know, and with the race this weekend I can't see when I'll have time to put something together. Got any good easy ideas for me?

  She blinked twice, her obvious surprise confirming that I wasn't reacting the way she'd wanted me to. "I'm going to dress up as a princess. I bought the whole thing last night, wig and dress and a crown, in a bag at the grocery store. You could probably get something like that too."

  I nodded. "Yeah, that would work." I laughed. "Or I'll just limp in wearing running clothes and be a marathoner." A shiver swept me. By Monday morning, if things went my way, I'd have a marathon under my running pants' elastic waistband. I cleared my throat. "But by then I might not want to see my running stuff any more, so I'll check the grocery store. I went online looking for ideas but the only thing I could find that was cheap and easy was being a magic 8 ball and I'm not sure my kids would--"

  "You're not going to ask?"

  My turn to blink, although I wasn't really surprised. I'd known she wouldn't let it rest. "Ask what?"

  "Why I think our coworkers are idiots."

  I shook my head. "You said you didn't want to tell me. So no, I'm not going to ask."

  The microwave finally dinged, after what had seemed like the world's longest three minutes. I really didn't want to ask, but I felt like I should since I knew she wanted me to. I'd feel bad once she told me, no doubt, since the others had seemed so shocked, but I also felt bad not giving in to her. If I'd feel bad either way, maybe it was better to feel bad having helped than not having helped?

  Maybe. But I still didn't want to.

  I collected my lunch and was halfway to the door when she said, "I'm going to tell James I'm pregnant."

  I stared at the door. So close. I took a deep breath, let it out in what was nearly a sigh, and turned around. "Are you?"

  Her chin was up and her eyes defiant.
"Does it matter?"

  This time my blink wasn't an act. "Um, yeah. Of course it does."

  "Fine, I'm not." She shrugged. "But I could be. And if I were, then he'd have to marry me."

  In a tiny back room of my heart, I found an emotion I'd never have expected: sympathy for James. "You can't tell him you're pregnant if you're not," I said, realizing as I spoke why my coworkers had looked so revolted. "And, just so you know, you also can't get pregnant on purpose to trap him."

  "Don't be so naïve, Megan, people do that stuff all the time."

  "People also drive drunk and shoplift and rob banks. Are those next on your to-do list?"

  She stood and glared at me. "Of course not. But what does it matter? If he's going to marry me next year or the year after, why not hurry him up a little? It makes no difference."

  I wanted to say, "Then why hurry him?" but of course it made a difference to her. She just didn't think it should make a difference to James.

  The depth of her selfishness stunned me. I'd known she wasn't exactly a giving person, to put it mildly, but to coldly set out to lie her way to the altar with a man who didn't want to go? "What do you think will happen when he realizes you were never pregnant?"

  She sat down, obviously thinking I had come around to seeing it her way. "Actually, I think I will be. I really want a baby and he'll be happy once he gets his head around it. Then I wouldn't need to lie to him."

  Maybe not in so many words, but her every action would be a lie.

  She burst out laughing. "I'm not going to do it, Megan. God, you are an idiot, just like all the others. I'm just thinking about it, that's all. Of course that's not the right way to get married."

  So she'd wasted a big chunk of my precious lunch break on a joke? I stared at her, then took a breath to tell her how obnoxious she was. Instead, to my disgust, I heard myself say, "Good. Glad to hear it. I have to go eat and clean my room."