by SM Koz
I shower in five minutes flat and then have a muffin and some coffee with my dad. The whole time, I tap my foot and check my watch. Right on time, there’s a knock on my door. I run to it and yank it open.
“Good morning,” Marta says, stepping inside. “How are you?”
“Stressed. Is he okay?”
She sighs and my stomach drops. I lower myself onto the bed. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s frustrated with himself.”
“He’s not mad at me?”
“No, no.” She sits down next to me and smooths her pants before she continues. “He just … needs some time to accept what’s happened. It can be hard for people when they come out of a coma and things are no longer how they remembered. He needs a lot of physical and speech therapy.”
I nod. “I can help him.”
“Maybe in time.”
“No, not in time. Now.”
Resting her hand on my knee, she says, “I don’t think that’s in his best interest at this moment.”
“You’re telling me to leave?”
“Go home. Go to school. You need to get back to your life. He’ll be in touch when the time is right for him.”
“What about me? Don’t I get a say in this?” I stand up and pace between the door and the bed.
“If you care for him, you’ll understand that he needs this time to heal. It’s hard for him … when you see him like this.”
I shake my head. “I love him just the same. I want to help. Why won’t he let me help him?”
“I believe he will eventually. It’s just too much for him to take in right now.”
My dad steps behind me and rests his hands on my shoulders. “We have to trust Dr. Sanchez, Kelsie. Let’s give him a little time.”
My shoulders slump at the news. It’s not what I wanted to hear.
“I promise we’ll come back as soon as he’s ready to see you,” my dad offers. “We can be in the air within an hour of the call.”
“He doesn’t like me anymore,” I whisper, squirming out of my dad’s touch.
Marta grabs my arm. “That’s not true. Don’t think that. He loves you so much that he can’t stand for you to see him like this. He’s proud. You know that.”
“Will you tell me how he’s doing?”
She nods. “I’ll tell you everything he wants me to tell you.”
“So, basically, nothing?” I throw clothes into my bag and then walk to the bathroom to gather my toiletries.
When I return, Marta says, “We don’t know that.”
“Can I say bye?”
“I’ll tell him for you.”
I frown and throw my soap and shampoo into my bag. “This is it, then. We’re leaving and maybe, some day in the future, I’ll talk to him again?”
“Kelsie, I know you’re upset, but I really do think he’ll come around. Once he starts making some progress in therapy, he’ll have a more optimistic attitude and things will change.”
I say nothing as I tug on the zipper to close my bag. After that, I reach for my bag and see his journal sticking out the top. I hand it to Marta. “Can you give him this? Maybe it will remind him how he used to feel.”
She nods and then passes me a slip of paper. “This is JC’s grandmother’s number. She wanted me to give it you. She said you can call anytime.”
“Why didn’t you tell me that sooner?” I grab the paper from her hand and study the number. “This changes everything,” I say with a smile.
“How so?”
“I’m family. She’ll tell me how he’s doing. Plus, he’ll listen to Nana. If she wants me back, he’ll want me back.”
Marta tsks and shakes her head. “Give him time, cariño.”
*****
Over the next six hours, my dad and I travel home. It’s a quiet trip and I focus on my knitting project rather than obsessing about JC. Marta thinks he’ll come around, plus I have a direct line to Nana. I really do believe she’ll help me out. I’ve been without him before and made it though. This is a hundred times better than before because he’s alive. Even if he doesn’t ever want to see me again, at least he’s alive. It’s too bad that consolation doesn’t fill the vacant spot in my heart.
When we walk through the door to our house, it immediately feels empty. That has to be because Marta’s gone. There’s no way I could miss Sheila. I’d take complete silence over her constant criticism.
“So,” my dad says, rolling his suitcase against the wall, “on the way home, I was thinking that maybe we need to get a dog.”
I spin around to face him, completely shocked. “A dog? I asked for a dog for like eight birthdays in a row and you always told me we weren’t dog people.”
“I need to be more open-minded.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“When can we get it?”
He looks at his watch and then says, “The shelter’s open for another hour.”
I shriek and then we hop back in the car and drive over to the local shelter. When we tell a volunteer at the front desk that we’re looking for a dog, she walks us through a door and down a long hallway. At the end, we can go either left or right. She tells us big dogs are to the left in runs and little dogs are to the right in cages.
“Big or little?” my dad asks.
“I don’t know … little would be good because she could go anywhere with us. But a big dog would be better for going on walks or hikes.”
“Let’s look at both then.”
We turn left and walk down the hallway as dogs rush up to the fencing between us. I hold out my hand and they each sniff it as I go by. They’re all cute and I begin to think I won’t be able to make a decision. How do you select just one?
When we get to the end of the hallway, I don’t see a dog in the last cage so I turn around. “Hey girl,” my dad says, sticking his fingers through the fencing.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asks the volunteer. I join him and see a medium-sized, plain brown dog with short hair lying in the back of her cage. She’s got a wide head, floppy ears, and sad eyes.
“She was found along a highway. There was another dog that had been hit by a car and she wouldn’t leave his side. After two days, a good Samaritan called us to pick her up. I think she misses him.”
“We’ll take her,” I say, without even thinking.
“Do you want to meet her first?” my dad asks.
“Not necessary.”
The volunteer opens the door and tells me to go inside anyway. I walk towards the back and sit down on the floor next to her. When I hold out my hand, she sniffs it.
“Sounds like we’ve both had some rough times,” I say, patting her head. “I promise to help you if you’ll help me.”
She scoots forward and lays her head on my lap.
“Where do I pay?” my dad asks, knowing there’s no way we’re going home without this dog.
After taking Daisy to a do-it-yourself dog bathing place and stopping at the pet store for bowls, food, treats, toys, collar and leash, and dog bed, we arrive back home. I show her around our backyard so she can do her business and then set up her food and water bowls in the kitchen. My dad orders pizza for dinner so I flop down on the couch while I wait. Daisy jumps up next to me.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” my dad says, holding up his hands. “That’s expensive furniture. She’ll get dog hair on it.”
I walk to my bedroom and grab a fleece blanket from the closet. When I return, I lay it across the couch and pat it. “Over here, Daisy.”
She crawls onto the blanket and then I sit next to her, petting her neck. After a few minutes, I decide I should check in with Nana, who I now have on speed dial. I push her number and she answers after two rings.
“Hello?”
“Nana, it’s Mal.”
“Oh, it’s so nice to hear from you. Are you home?”
“Yes.”
“How are you?”
“Okay. I miss you and JC.”
“We mi
ss you, too.”
“Does he really miss me?”
“In his heart. He’s just being disagreeable right now. That’s the devil doing his work. Have faith, child. He will prevail.”
I hear JC yell something in the background, but it sounds garbled.
“Tell him I got a dog today. I named her Daisy. She’s lonely, too.”
“I will.”
“Tell him I love him.”
“Certainly.”
I pause and then realize there’s not much else I can say. He probably doesn’t even want to hear what I’ve already said. “I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Nana.”
After she says goodbye, I hang up and wonder how long it’s going to take for him to get better. Is it possible he might never be able to talk the same again? That has to be worse than walking—at least he can get a wheelchair for that. If he can’t talk, he can’t communicate with people. Unless he learns sign language.
“I think I just had a brilliant idea, Daisy girl. Do you want to help me shop online?”
She cuddles closer to me, which I take as a yes.
Maybe if he can explain things to me, he won’t get so frustrated. I open up the browser on my phone and go straight to Amazon where I find a highly-rated book on sign language. I buy two and have one shipped to me and one shipped to JC at the hospital.
I rub Daisy’s head. “At least I feel like I’m doing something.”
Once the pizza arrives, my dad sets it on the coffee table and joins me on the couch.
“Ham and pineapple,” I say after opening the lid. “Thanks.”
“See, I’m opening my mind to all kinds of new things. A dog. Pineapple on my pizza. Who knows what will be next?”
Just then, my phone rings. I practically drop my slice as I fumble for it, hoping it’s JC. The caller ID shows that it’s Elise.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Kelsie. It’s Elise. How are you doing?”
“Fine. How are you?”
“Good. I saw your light on. Are you back from your trip?”
I wonder who told her about my trip. It wasn’t me, but she obviously knew because she never tried to contact me when I didn’t show up for our renovation date.
“Yes, we got back today.”
“How is everything?”
Daisy rests her head on my lap, so I rub her ear. “Okay.”
“Do you want to come over tomorrow to work on Jenna’s room and talk about it?”
“Um … sure.” Daisy whines like she understands what I agreed to. “Can I bring my dog?” Jenna had a dog when we were younger, but they never got another one after he died.
“You have a dog?”
“Yes. We adopted her today. She’s well behaved.”
“Sure. Maybe she can help us with the demo,” she says with a small laugh. “Nine in the morning work for you?”
I agree, say goodbye, and then explain my plans to my dad, feeling less than excited. I know it’s probably good for me to do this. It probably will be therapeutic like Elise says, but that doesn’t ease the pain I’ll feel when we tear down her room. The one thing remaining of her.
Chapter 36: October 2
It’s been almost a month since we returned, and I’ve gotten into a routine. School has started, which keeps me busy during the week. Things were weird the first few days because I wasn’t hiding my scars. I got a lot of attention, both positive and negative, and soon learned the best way to deal with people. For those who scoffed at me, I flipped them off. Since I used to get along with everyone, the shock value of this alone usually convinced those people not to mess with me anymore. For those who admired me, I told them they’d end up in a padded room if they did it. That usually erased the look of awe from their faces. In the end, my number of friends dwindled, but I still have a small group of people who don’t seem to care one way or the other. I hang out with them during school.
Cheerleading practice is after school, so that takes up more of my time. I thought about quitting, but both my dad and Marta were strongly opposed to that. I don’t enjoy it as much as I used to because Jenna’s not there, but at least it gives me something to do.
In the evenings, I take Daisy for a walk, do homework, call Nana, and then study sign language or knit. I’ve completed my pink scarf, a black one for JC, a blue one for my dad, and am currently working on a yellow one for Daisy. I’m running out of people to make scarves for so I need to learn how to make something else soon.
I spend every Saturday with Elise, either working on Jenna’s room or shopping for things to put in it. The first day was as hard as I predicted. With every item we removed I felt like I was erasing Jenna from my life a little more. Once it was cleared and re-painted, it became easier because it no longer seemed like her room.
Elise decided to make it a meditation room so we’ve also spent some time visiting spas for inspiration, sometimes getting manicures, other times facials, and most recently, massages. Afterwards, she said that massages would become a monthly ritual for us as she believes that’s part of our therapy—we can’t heal until we relax. I personally think she was just looking for an excuse for monthly massages, but I’m not complaining.
Sundays, my dad has declared, are family days. After my weekly therapy session with Marta, that is. Once that’s over, we do something fun. To his credit, he’s planned something for us to do every week and doesn’t once glance at his phone while we’re doing it. I know that he’s still connected to work, though, because when I come back from Elise’s, I’ll often find him in his office watching a movie that’s in the editing phase, but as soon as he sees I’m home, he shuts it down. He’s also decided he needs to learn how to cook. That’s not going nearly as well, but luckily, I’m not too picky and can usually stomach whatever he creates.
Once a week, usually Friday night, I go to the cemetery. That’s probably a weird night to go, but I like it. It gives me an excuse not to go to parties since I always have plans. Visiting her was hard at first, but it’s getting easier. I still miss her, but it’s not like it used to be. I’m able to remember our times more fondly and haven’t had the vise-like grip of guilt at all.
The cemetery is where I am right now, leaning against Jenna’s headstone and painting my toenails with the awful purple polish.
“Brad asked me to homecoming. Can you believe that? I guess he and Stace are really through now.”
I dip the brush back in the bottle and then add, “I thanked him because he’s the first guy who’s asked me out this year, but then told him no. I couldn’t do that to JC. Now Brad probably thinks I’m even more messed up because I told him I had a boyfriend. No doubt he’s thinking it’s an imaginary boyfriend. At this point, that may be true.”
I lean back over and start the second coat. “I talk to Nana every night, but he won’t get on the phone. She says he’s doing a little better, but sometimes I hear him in the background and he doesn’t sound better. He’s always shouting something that’s impossible to understand.”
I sigh and set the nail polish on the ground. “I keep asking if I can come visit, but Nana tells me to be patient. I’m worried he’ll never like me again, Jenna.”
I’ve been thinking this more and more lately. I’m holding out hope that we’ll eventually be together again, but what if he’s given up on me? What if he doesn’t love me anymore? I’m not sure what I’d do if that were the case. He’s perfect for me. I’ll never find anyone else who understands me the way he does.
I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. The sun is low in the sky, leaving the nighttime chill to set in. “Maybe I should call Nana now. I’ll put her on speaker so you can hear her. She’s got the best southern accent.”
I press speed dial and wait for the ringing to start, but instead I get four tones and an automatic message from a computer-sounding voice. We’re sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check
the number and dial again.
“Yes, I’ve reached your recording in error,” I grumble, hitting speed dial again. It gives me the same result. I go into my contact list, select Nana, and then hit dial. Same thing.
“What the hell?” I ask, staring at my phone. I open my browser and find the website for the hospital. Scrolling down the page, I see the main phone number so I dial that. After getting transferred a few times, I reach the right department.
“Can you connect me to Tyrell McCoy’s room, number 604?”
“One moment, please.”
While I wait, I grow more and more concerned. Why is Nana’s phone disconnected? Did she just forget to pay her bill or is it something more?
“I’m sorry, but room 604 is currently unoccupied. What’s the name again?”
“Tyrell McCoy.”
“Let me check our database.”
After what seems like forever, he gets back on the line. “I’m sorry, miss, but there’s no one here by that name.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
“Can you tell me when he left?’
“I’m not allowed to divulge such information.”
“Was it today?”
“I can’t say.”
“Yesterday?”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
I hang up without answering him and slump against Jenna’s headstone. “What the hell, Jenna? I called Nana last night and everything seemed normal. What happened between then and now? Did he finally decide to cut all ties with me for good? I can’t believe Nana wouldn’t tell me herself.”
I bite my thumb nail as I try to figure things out. None of it makes any sense. Unless he really wanted me out of his life. This is what I’ve been dreading. “I—I gotta go, Jenna. Sorry. I love you and miss you.”
I kiss her headstone and then jump in my car and race back home. The whole way, all I can think about is how JC must not love me anymore. I can’t believe I let Marta, my dad, and Nana convince me he’d come around if I just gave him a little time. Even Elise came to that conclusion when I told her what happened. They were all wrong. He didn’t want me then. He doesn’t want me now. It’s through. All the hope I’ve been holding onto was for nothing.
