Anything But Ordinary

by Lara Avery

  “Do they have dreams in sound?” Greg asked, his voice getting sleepy.

  That night Bryce had dreamed of a world upside down, dripping in surreal colors. Greg was leading her through it with her hand in his. They had floated through the air like it was made of water. Bryce felt right at home.

  Now she felt tears burn in the corner of her eyes. “Memories weren’t good enough, though.” It was both a question and an answer.

  “No,” he said hollowly. “I moved on to these little dream scenarios. I wanted them to be real. I wanted it so bad.…” His voice choked. He looked away, shaking his head. “I thought about you opening your eyes. I stared at your face, willing you to open your eyes. Then you’d get up and we would leave the hospital together, we would go back to school, we’d graduate. Go to Vandy. And after that…” His voice trailed off, but his eyes said the rest. They contained an eternity. Where they would go, who they could be.

  He was close enough that she could smell the wet wood scent that lingered on his clothes. He was inches away, and yet she couldn’t touch him. She couldn’t even hold his hand.

  “Well, that’s not how it is,” Bryce said, ripping the words from her chest. She saw hurt flicker in Greg’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter how it could have been. You’re with Gabby now. You’re getting married.”

  Bryce felt something crack inside of her. The last time she had said that word, married, had been in this barn. Their cheeks were red. Their hair was messed. The cicadas buzzed as they were buzzing now, and they had said silly, stupid things to each other. Love was being able to say anything you wanted, to say all the stupid things you couldn’t tell anyone else. But she had meant that one.

  “I know,” Greg said sadly. Angrily, almost.

  “I’m going to bed,” she said.

  “Don’t,” he said. “Stay.”

  But he didn’t protest when Bryce walked back into the summer night, trying to catch her breath. When she turned back, the light still shone from the barn’s old diamond-shaped windows. But she only looked ahead as she stepped through the wet grass, looking forward, for the first time since she awoke, to the soft darkness of a dreamless sleep.

  ryce hung half out of the passenger-side window of the speeding white Honda. The rush of wind bit at her, flicking hair across her face, her mouth. This was a new kind of wind. It had a presence, a weight; it seemed to move like the bleeding colors only Bryce could see. She could feel it slip through her fingers and hair like liquid.

  “Okay, here comes a big hill!” Bryce called to Carter, her knee braced on the busted leather seat.

  He rolled his eyes, but a smile played on his lips.

  “Go fast! It’s like a roller coaster!”

  “You look like my dog,” he answered, but as soon as the words were out, the engine gunned and Bryce let out a whoop as they broke the crest of the hill, the skin of her cheeks pulled back by the air whipping across the empty country road.

  The pavement flattened out, and Bryce flopped back onto her seat. “I can’t believe you let me do that.”

  Carter scoffed. “Me neither. We’re lucky another car didn’t come by.”

  “No cars ever do.” Bryce pulled her wild locks back into a ponytail and hung her hand out the window, catching the warm wind with her palm.

  Carter shook his head, looking forward, but unable to hide his smile. “You’re crazy,” he muttered.

  “Sorry,” Bryce said, but she wasn’t.

  “You know where we’re going, right?” He readjusted the mirror.

  “I couldn’t get lost if I wanted to.”

  It had been a week since the night in the barn with Greg. He’d been calling, but she never picked up. It would be better to forget the past, she’d decided. It was better for both of them.

  Carter had been coming around more often, and that was nice. But she found herself bringing him to all the places she used to go with Greg and Gabby, staring at the seats of the diner where they used to eat before practice, or searching for their faces at the mall, longing for them. Longing for a life that didn’t exist anymore.

  The asphalt gave way to the crackle of unpaved road. “Pull up under this tree,” she said. It’d be strange to be at the lake without Greg and Gabby, but she had put off going for too long. Never had this much time passed in the summer before Bryce took a trip out to Percy. She couldn’t wait to see it, to feel the smooth, warm water. It was more pure than chlorine water. The lake’s algae was dark and slimy, but to Bryce it felt right. The lake was alive.

  A single path led to a small, dirty beach scattered with a couple of coal-streaked grills and empty beer cans. Bryce hadn’t been to that beach since she was a kid. She grabbed Carter’s hand and pulled him off the beaten path, through the grass and ferns and tiny saplings, to a hedge of bushes and trees that hid the rest of the lake from view.

  “Wow,” Carter said, making his fingers into a picture frame. “What a view.”

  “Shut up,” she said, but they were both smiling. “I have a spot. It’s the perfect spot.”

  She crept along the thick row of trees, peeking between them only to see more trees, more leaves. Over the past week, her legs had gotten stronger and stronger. She could almost walk normally now. Every step burned, but she relished the sore-muscle feeling. “Now I just have to remember where the opening is.”

  Every so often she would stop, staring into the bushes, but she could tell that wasn’t the right way. She didn’t know how, because everything looked the same, but she could tell.

  “It’s okay if you can’t remember, you know,” Carter called up at one point. “It has been five years of brain inactivity.”

  “Doesn’t feel that way,” Bryce breathed to herself. Sweat began to drip from her forehead as they rustled along. She didn’t mind; it was good to be moving.

  Suddenly, as if the trees were breathing a sigh of relief, they broke into a clearing. Bushes still dotted the grass, but beyond them lay nothing but a single, mangled crab apple tree, and the lake and sky in two shades of endless blue.

  “Look.” Bryce rushed to the edge of the clearing and motioned for Carter. “The bank juts straight down so it’s really deep. With a cliff to dive off and everything.”

  Bryce watched Carter take it all in. Even in his white Oxford and khaki pants, he seemed to belong here more than anyone she had seen. Gabby usually took this opportunity to apply suntan lotion, and Greg always scrambled down the bluff to jump in without a second look. But Carter was completely still, his blue-gray eyes drinking in the view without a word.

  After a while he looked at Bryce, his eyes moving up and down her face. She felt herself blushing. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” he said absently.

  “Oh.” Bryce cleared her throat. “Me neither.” A pang of loss hit her. “I don’t even know if I can swim anymore.”

  They collapsed under the crab apple tree, Bryce letting out a grateful moan to get out of the beating sun. She stared through the maze of branches to the blue sky above.

  “You ever seen one of these trees in the spring?” she asked, gesturing up to the berrylike crab apples.

  “Yeah,” he said, grinning. “They blossom in these really pretty pink flowers.”

  Bryce laughed at his enthusiasm.

  Carter cleared his throat. “I mean, right? That’s what they do?” But then he let out a small laugh with her. “No, I know them well. My little brother used to climb up the ones on our street when the apples came in, throw ’em down, try to peg me.” He threw the grass he had pulled up in his hand, scattering the blades in the breeze.

  “I used to do the same thing to my little sister,” Bryce remembered.

  “Chucking apples at someone younger than you? That’s hardly fair.” Carter took this opportunity to grab a handful of crab apples and toss them at Bryce, one by one.

  Bryce retaliated with a few apples of her own, trying to land them in the collar of his shirt. “I wish I could throw something at her now. She could use some sense kn
ocked into her.”

  Carter surrendered, blocking her aim with his shoulder. “Why? What’s she doing?”

  “You’ve seen her.” Bryce chucked a crab apple toward the bluff.

  Carter contemplated. “She’s probably just going through a stage.”

  “Whatever,” Bryce grunted, launching apples further with each throw. “That’s not the point.”

  “What is—” Carter started to ask.

  Bryce stopped throwing. “The point is my parents totally dropped the ball.” She was getting frustrated now. Carter had seen her family plenty. He had to know what she was talking about. “She goes out every night looking like a baby prostitute. She comes home at three in the morning.”

  “But she does come home.”

  “So? She doesn’t get good grades. She doesn’t play any sports or do any activities. And my parents just sit around, moping about it, not doing anything.”

  Carter shrugged. “Maybe it’s beyond their control.”

  “You think?” Bryce asked sarcastically.

  She stood up, wiping dirt and grass off of her butt. Carter looked up at her thoughtfully.

  “You know, just because she’s not a star…” He trailed off, gesturing to her. “It doesn’t mean she’s a failure.”

  Bryce smirked, kicking at the dirt. “Oh, sure, she’s a real winner.”

  The sun was officially fading now, setting the few long, streaky clouds on fire.

  “I want to go home,” Bryce muttered.

  “If you say so. I say we’re missing the best part.” He nodded toward the sunset. Bryce wandered to the edge of the bluff, away from him, arms folded. What did he know about the best part? This was her lake.

  They watched the deep blue of evening take over the sky. Then, without waiting, she took the lead, and soon they were back on the empty country road, gliding home through the cool air.

  She could tell Carter was sneaking glances at her, still silent. When she happened to glance at him, his gaze was steeled ahead, one arm on the wheel. Thirty minutes later, they pulled up to Bryce’s house.

  “Bye,” Bryce said, unbuckling her seat belt. “Thanks for the field trip.”

  “Yeah. See you soon.” His eyebrows knit together as he clutched the steering wheel. “Hey, Bryce?”

  “What?” She ducked back inside the car.

  “Go easy on them, okay?” He nodded toward her house. Bryce felt herself tense. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone you love that way.”

  “And you don’t know what it’s like to lose five years of your life.” She closed the door and he drove off.

  As she made her way up the lawn, fuming, the automatic light from the driveway illuminated to reveal the open garage door and Sydney with a can of gold spray paint in her hand.

  “Moved on to vandalism now?” Bryce called. Sydney looked up.

  A pair of vintage high tops sat on a paint-splattered sheet on the cement. Bryce couldn’t tell what their original color was, but now they were a deep, shiny gold.

  “Don’t touch those,” Sydney said in greeting, taking off one of their dad’s oversized Vanderbilt T-shirts and tossing it onto the cement floor.

  “Why were you messing up Dad’s shirt?” Bryce asked, grabbing it from the ground.

  “Chill, Bryce. I was using it to protect my clothes.”

  Sydney wore a completely sheer lace dress, her black bra and spandex boy shorts visible underneath. Her feet were tucked into impossibly high chunky heels, and she had put a thick black ring through her lip piercing. Bryce snorted. “Ha. Clothes. Good one.”

  A rusty blue car without a muffler pulled up in front of the Graham residence. The side was emblazoned with the graphic B60 and it was being driven by an emaciated-looking guy with bleached hair and a tattoo sleeve. He revved his engine, echoing off the soft-lit houses, and shouted at Sydney to hurry her ass up.

  Sydney grabbed her purse from the ground.

  “Who is that guy?” Bryce squinted to get a closer look.

  Sydney adjusted her painted face briefly in a compact mirror and said casually, “Like you care?” She snapped the compact shut.

  Bryce’s fists clenched. As Sydney made her way down the driveway, Bryce had the urge to topple her tall, skinny form over like a mannequin. The B60 zoomed off, engine roaring. After a minute, the street was quiet again.

  In a fury, Bryce picked up one of Sydney’s spray-painted shoes and hurled it as hard as she could toward the grass.

  “I do care,” she said aloud. But there was no one there to hear her.

  ou know I hate surprises, Dad.” Bryce followed her father from her bedroom to the basement storage room the next evening.

  “Just wait, you’re gonna love it.” It took her dad several kicks to get the storage door open, but when he did, Bryce gasped.

  All the boxes were gone. Rubber mats covered the unfinished floor, and on top of the mats stood a full rack of free weights, medicine balls, and a large piece of equipment that could transition from an elliptical to a rowing machine. The sole piece of decoration hung under one of the high, small windows: a Rocky poster. Sylvester Stallone’s gray sweat-suited form seemed to nod back at her in appreciation.

  Her father put his hands on his hips proudly. His gold shirt with the Vanderbilt logo was tucked neatly into his pants, and a speck of shaving cream still hung near where his close-cropped hair met his neck. “Started installing it when you came home.”

  “Wow.” Bryce stepped up to wrap her hand around a free weight. She picked it up. The metal was cool to the touch, and the weight of it jerked her weak arm down. She set it back on the rack and closed her eyes, letting memories overtake her.

  She remembered putting one foot in front of the other on the rough, bright turquoise board. Pushing off her left, her head leading her body, limbs tight but relaxed. The world seemed to rotate around her as she stayed still in the air. For a millisecond that contained an eternity, she was weightless. Flying. Then she snapped, tight, and straightened, ready to break the surface. When she hit the water, her sight was a dark kaleidoscope. Her body hung in suspense in the water, then flew upward.

  She broke for air on the sunny day, hitting the water with her fist, her dad shouting in celebration.

  “Perfect!” He shouted. “REVERSE! Two and a half!” he yelled, pausing between each word, like a football announcer calling a touchdown. “SOMERSAULT! TUCK!”

  She swam over and gave him a high five.

  At the snap of the two hands, Bryce opened her eyes to the workout room, her father beside her. It was the dive she’d done when she hit her head. The dive she was supposed to do.

  “Things didn’t work out the way we planned, did they?”

  Her father gave her a long look. “No, they didn’t.” He took a breath, but then didn’t say anything else.

  Bryce shivered. “It must have been hard.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “Your old man wasn’t really sure what to do with himself when he wasn’t yelling at you all the time.” He chuckled, but the sound caught in his throat.

  Bryce pretended to be occupied by picking up a medicine ball. She pressed it from her chest. “I know,” she said. “I saw the plane.” She thought of its still, silent form sitting in the unused barn. You stopped doing everything. Working. Coaching. Living. “Still not done.”

  He nodded wordlessly and looked away, blinking. He was blinking back tears, she realized.

  He dabbed at his eyes with his wrist, gesturing around the room. “I thought about making it more like your physical therapy room at the hospital, but then I remembered those mornings at the Y.…”

  When Bryce made the Tennessee AAU team in eighth grade, her father had driven her to the Nashville Y to lift weights most mornings before school. Bryce had hated it at first, groaning and snapping at her dad as he pulled her out of bed, even crying some days from the fatigue, but then he would say, “Okay. Go back to sleep. If you want to skip today, that’s fine.” She would stay sil
ent, then, pulling on her sweatshirt, and walk ahead of him out to the car.

  He turned her to face him now, both hands on her shoulders. “It’s not going to be easy.”

  Bryce just nodded. She still resented her dad for not telling her that he’d stopped coaching. For spending every night holed up in the den. But then she looked around the room. It said everything that he couldn’t. That he was sorry for what happened. That he never meant to push her so hard. That he needed to get back to normal just as badly as she did.

  Finally, she smiled, putting her hands on his. “You know me too well.”

  Five minutes later, Bryce was in a Hilwood High T-shirt and shiny blue athletic shorts. She sat at the rowing machine, trying to keep her knobby knees from pressing together, gripping and regripping the handles to find the perfect fit.

  She pushed her body backward off the metal plate by straightening her legs, yanking the bands with her. Her thigh muscles were already trembling. Her shoulders cried out with the effort. She clenched her jaw against the pain and smiled up at her dad.

  “Thatta girl,” he said. “We’ll make the first goal five.”

  Warmth ran through Bryce’s veins. Maybe it was the endorphins, maybe it was just muscle strain, but Bryce got a special pleasure from working out. It was her drug, and her dad had just provided her with unlimited doses.

  “Unh!” she grunted, shooting her body backward, again yanking the rowing bands. She held the tension for a millisecond, then let go as she poised for another rep.

  “Can we do this every day?” she asked her dad breathlessly.

  “That’s the idea,” he answered.

  She used to train twice a day. Mornings in the weight room, afternoons in the pool. Bryce shot back for another rep, watching her puny quads ball up under her shorts and release, feeling now like they were going to detach from the bone.

  “Maybe we could make long-term goals, too,” Bryce panted. “Try to get my PRs back to what they were.”

  “Bryce? Are you down here?” Bryce’s mother’s voice came down the stairs. A moment later she entered, holding a mug of steaming tea. She took in the miniature workout center with her eyebrows raised. “What is this?” she asked slowly.