Teenage Survivalist Series [Books 1-3]

by Casey, Julie L.

  Defeated, Dad set the food on my bedside table and went to the door. Halfway through the door, he stopped and said without turning around, “I didn’t mean it when I said he couldn’t come back. I really didn’t.” His voice cracked as he got choked up. “I’m sorry, Taylor.” I knew he meant it since he called me by my real name.

  Winter raged on like the torment in my head. I had stopped crossing off the days on my calendar when Irv died, so time slipped away without me knowing. I saw Mom very little during that time, both of us barely existing, preferring to sleep our lives away so we wouldn’t have to face our reality. Dad kept us alive with food and water but couldn’t bring us out of our depression.

  I put Irv’s letter with my most precious possessions in Grammy’s shoebox, but I couldn’t bring myself to read it yet. I felt I would die if I unlocked the agony Irv must have felt as he sat in that park, freezing to death. He always hated the cold. I couldn’t force my mind to think about it, and my head constantly hurt as it cracked into shards of black ice trying to break up any coherent thought of his last days.

  The winter faded into spring, though I barely noticed. My frozen brain began to melt into pools of black runoff, leaving me feeling mushy instead of frozen. Still I slept a lot, preferring the blackness of sleep to the blackness of reality. As the temperature of the world warmed, I still felt cold inside, however, I was hot on the outside, so I opened my windows and left them open through the nights, which were still chilly. The stench of the hogs was beginning to overpower the receding fresh air of winter, compounding my anguish. I slept most of the time with Grammy’s perfume-spritzed hankie over my face to try to block out the smell of the animals and the despair.

  One morning a heady aroma entered my brain before I was even awake. I know this because I was dreaming about a little purple fairy waving her tiny wand at the pools of darkness in my brain, turning each of them into a reflection of a fully bloomed lilac bush. For the first time in months, maybe years, I awoke with a smile, blissfully unaware of my misery for a few moments. As I lay there inhaling the scent of the newly bloomed lilac bush outside my window, the memories of my brother crept back in, although this time they were the good memories—the times we had spent with Grammy, the times he had taken care of me when we were young, the few times we had laughed together about something that now seemed so insignificant. I felt a small sliver of hope in my frozen heart, and I arose knowing that I was ready to read Irv’s letter.

  Chapter 17

  Dear Taylor

  As I read my brother’s letter, I inhaled thescent of the lilacs to calm and fortify me.Dear Taylor, it began.

  I know what you’re thinking. Stop. I’m okay. I’m not suffering. I actually feel good. You were right about the cold. It numbs you and clears your head. You were right about so many things. You’re the smartest and wisest person I’ve ever known. Also my best friend. Which is why I’m writing you, and only you, to explain things. No one else deserves to know. You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted besides Grammy, and I’m happy to be seeing her again soon.

  It made my heart warm to think of Grammy once again welcoming Irv into her loving arms.

  Not that I’m mad at anybody. Nobody is to blame. Mom and Dad weren’t the best parents, but they did what they could. At least they loved us in their own way. Kids at school, teachers, other people in town—they were all okay. Sure there was some meanness sometimes, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Lots of people tried to help us, Bob and Lori, Uncle Owen, social workers, even some of our landlords. Some of my friends from school let me stay with them the past couple of weeks, even though they barely had enough food for their own family. They cared. They really cared. In the end though, whatever plagues my brain and Dad’s and Mom’s—hopefully not yours!—couldn’t be helped.

  I was heartened by the thought that Irv’s friends and their families had cared for him in his last few days on earth.

  You see, little sister, physical pain is nothing compared to the mental pain I was born with. Some of my very first memories are of sadness. I don’t remember ever enjoying life. I don’t remember playing much or singing or having friends. I know you haven’t had many friends, but I remember you playing and signing to your stuffed monkey when you were little. Do you remember him? I think you named him Skippy. I don’t know what happened to him though.

  I smiled suddenly, remembering my floppy old friend Skippy. He had been old and worn already when I got him, but I loved him like he was my only friend. Which he kind of was when Irv was at school. He was one of the many casualties of a life of turmoil and constant change. I don’t even remember when I lost him, but it was before I started school anyway.

  I remember you getting excited when I brought new library books home for you to read. I always picked out books you would like, not ones I liked. Reading never held the magic for me that it did for you. The only thing that made me a little bit happy was to see you smile.

  I never knew my brother had actually been thinking of me—ever. It seemed I was always the one looking out for him. When I thought about the books he had brought home, it became clear to me that he had picked them out for me, not for him. There were books about animals, science, and girl protagonists—none of which were things Irv gravitated towards. It was nice to find out that even though he never boasted about it, he had worried about me and wanted me to be happy.

  I know my death won’t make you happy. There’s just no way around that. I’m sorry. I’ve come to realize that my life is not really a life at all and it has nothing to do with Mom and Dad or PF Day or anything else except me. You’ll be better off without me, I’m sure. I’ve been an anchor around your neck for the past few years, keeping you from getting away and finding happiness. I know happiness is out there for you. You have a good soul, not a messed up one like mine and our parents’. Without me holding you back, you can do whatever it takes to get out of this miserable life.

  Grammy’s words about the diamond echoed in my head as tears filled my eyes. “Save it for when you’re old enough to escape.” Even though the thought of Irv being an anchor was excruciating and untrue, I understood what he meant; I had stayed longer than I should have because of him. I could have been living with Fern since Christmas, finding joy and comfort in life, if I hadn’t been so concerned about Irv. Still, he couldn’t have been more wrong; I had worked out how to save us both. I’d give any amount of future happiness just to have him back. Now I wasn’t sure if I could ever be happy without him. His pain didn’t go away, it simply transferred to me. It seemed that even though my heart was thawing, it was leaving behind a big hole where concern for Irv used to reside.

  I don’t mean suicide for you. It’s the right way out for me, but not for you. And I don’t just say that because I’m your brother and I love you. You have hope in you, a gift that you need to share with the world. You kept me going all this time with that hope. You kept our whole family going just by being you and you didn’t even know it.

  Hope. Did I have hope? If so, what was it?

  You got to hold on to that hope, Taylor. You got to go out and find some happiness. You’re never going to find it with Mom and Dad. They’re unfixable, just like me. When I left, I told you to watch out for Mom, but I know now I shouldn’t have. Sitting here in the cold has made me see that Mom will never get better and neither will Dad. Not without drugs anyway. It just seems so hopeless. Even when the electricity comes back on, what kind of life is it to have to be drunk or high or medicated into a zombie to keep you from wanting to end your life? To have no hope other than to score your next hit. I don’t want that kind of life anymore, but there’s no other one available to me. It was the way I was born.

  I realized that even when I felt the lowest and darkest after Irv’s death, I never wanted to end my life. Maybe that was the hope he was talking about. Maybe he was right. Maybe he had been the smart one all along.

  But not you, Taylor. Your brain works different. Thank God! You’ve got to get away
before it’s too late. Find someone in town to live with or go live with the lady in the woods.

  I didn’t remember ever telling Irv about Fern. Maybe he had followed me once to make sure I was okay. My heart warmed again at the thought that he had cared enough to find out where I was going all those times.

  Make something of your life. Don’t waste it like the rest of your family whose only concern is scoring some ice. Find a good boy to love, raise a family, love them like Grammy loved us. As I leave this world, I have more hope than I’ve ever had, but now my hope lies in you and your future. I’m happy that my pain is coming to an end and that now you can begin to really live life. I love you, Taylor.

  Your big bro, Irv

  As I placed the letter back in its envelope and then back in the shoebox, I suddenly knew what I had to do.

  Chapter 18

  Escape

  As I gathered my few belongings to move to Fern’s cabin, I briefly wondered what I would do if she hadn’t survived the winter, as unlikely as that seemed given her amazing survival skills. Still, she was an old woman, probably in her late seventies at least, and you never know what might happen. I decided that even if she had died, as sorrowful as that would be, I’d still move in to her cabin and honor her memory by trying to make it own my own for a while. Hopefully Spook would be there to help me.

  When I went downstairs, I found Dad and Mom in good spirits. I was mystified until I discovered the source of their excitement. Dad was about ready to “harvest” a new batch of hooch that he had brewed up in the still, which he had moved to a shed outside.

  I took Mom’s hand and led her into her room, ostensibly to “talk about girl stuff.” Once inside, I closed the door and sat beside her on the bed. She smelled of grief and decay despite her excitement about the imminent fix of alcohol.

  “Mom, I’m leaving. I can’t stay here anymore.”

  Mom’s simulated smile melted, and the sadness crept back into her eyes. “I always knew this day would come.” A tear slipped out of her eye.

  “I’ll come back and visit. I promise.”

  “I know,” she said, but the look in her eyes said she didn’t really believe it. She took my hands in hers and stared at me for a few moments. “Taylor, I’ve wanted for so long to say…” She sniffed and looked down, withdrawing her hands to her lap at the same time. “I’ve wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m sorry we weren’t better parents to you and Ir—,” she choked on his name, “your brother.” She paused to wipe her tears and her nose. It was the most emotion I’d seen from her in years. “Having you two was the only good thing I ever did in my life. Things would have been different if I hadn’t met your father. Your real father, I mean. Sometimes I wish I had never met him…” Her voice trailed off with her thoughts.

  “But then I wouldn’t have had you,” she continued with renewed conviction. “You are the only bright spot in my life.”

  “Mom, I didn’t think you even knew I was here most of the time,” I gently admonished.

  “I know. I know it probably seemed that way. But honey, you were always on my mind. It’s just that sometimes… Sometimes I wasn’t able to show it.” She looked down again. “I have a little drug problem, you know.” Understatement of the century, I thought. “But I wasn’t always like that. I took good care of Irv when he was a baby. Well, as good as I could, what with trying to protect him and avoid being hit by that good-for-nothing son-of-a-bitch that fathered you.

  “I left him as soon as I found out I was pregnant with you. I just couldn’t bear the thought of subjecting another baby to his abuse. And it was getting worse. I was scared he would make me lose you. The problem was I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I ended up shacking up with a nice guy who turned out to be a drug dealer. He was okay but he was more concerned with his ‘business’ than he was with having a family.

  “After I had you, I had the worst case of the baby blues. Al—that’s the drug dealer—introduced me to some drugs that helped me feel better. That’s all it took. Now I’m hooked and I can’t seem to ever feel good unless I have some kind of ice.

  “Anyway, that’s when I met your Dad. He was a user too, but he really cared for us, so I moved in with him. I’ve never regretted that even though things haven’t turned out like I wish they had. Especially with Irv.” She started sobbing then, and I took her in my arms to comfort her, our roles reversed yet again. I told her goodbye then, comforted by the thought that she’d soon escape to alcoholic euphoria so she could forget about the losses of her life for a while.

  Deciding not to say anything to Dad, I picked up my duffel bag of belongings I had left at the bottom of the stairs and started to head out. At the last minute, I stopped by Irv’s room. Something drew me in, like a whisper from beyond. Maybe it was Irv’s ghost, but I wasn’t afraid. Like Grammy’s spirit, I could never be afraid of Irv’s ghost, especially now that I knew he was at peace. I moved around the room, picking up the few belongings he had clung to, trying to figure out if each was what Irv wanted me to find. In one of his nearly empty dresser drawers, I found a journal and I was surprised to see that Irv had been writing in it. Not for very long, obviously, but for the past few months at least. I knew in my heart that this was what Irv wanted me to find and I stuffed it into my bag to take with me.

  I felt that a weight was beginning to lift from me as I held my breath past the hog pens, the old black hog snorting a goodbye as if he knew I wouldn’t be coming back soon. A small sliver of hope in my brain supported his expectation.

  Chapter 19

  Home

  I didn’t expect Spook to be waiting for me after all this time, but he was. He was even more delighted than I was at our reunion. He kept jumping and twisting, rubbing against my jeans, licking my hands, making me giggle with his enthusiasm. It felt like I was starting my journey home.

  As I neared the cabin, I was overjoyed to see Fern alive and working in her raised garden beds behind the cabin. The soil was still barren after the long cold winter, and she was turning it with a shovel, preparing it for planting. It was backbreaking work, especially for someone as old as Fern, but she was spry and could work circles around most people younger than she.

  Amid Spook running and barking around us, Fern enveloped me in her strong arms, her welcoming smile as warm as the sun shining overhead.

  “I wondered if we’d ever see you again, dear!” she said, hugging me again. “What kept you away? Your family? Is everything all right?” At the look of sadness in my eyes, she pulled back and assessed the situation of me with my duffel bag but no Irv. “Your brother. Did something happen to him, dear?”

  I was amazed at the shrewdness of this woman; no wonder she had survived so long. “Yes…” My voice dropped to a whisper. “He died in January.

  “Oh, my dear sweet girl.” Fern pulled me back into her arms, this time stroking my hair as she talked. “I knew it had to have been something bad for you to come here to stay without him. Come inside and have some tea, dear. You look like a skeleton. How long’s it been since you’ve eaten?”

  We went inside where Fern plied me with food and tea while I told her everything. I even poured out the ugly truth about my family and their addictions. I figured if I was going to live with Fern, I shouldn’t keep secrets from her, especially since Mom or Dad might just show up on our doorstep one day. Besides, it was cathartic to get it off my chest. That night I slept peacefully in the loft with the window open to the cool night air.

  The next day, Fern filled me in on all that had happened since I was last there, which wasn’t much. She was excited to tell me that some of the snares I had set were successful and that she had had plenty of rabbit and squirrel to supplement her canned foods, smoked fish, vegetables from her root cellar, and dried berries. She had even tanned three of the rabbit skins, making them into warm winter hats for us. She didn’t have to explain that the third had been meant for Irv. She showed me how she had smoked and dehydrated some of the meat in a small smoke
house out back. She said she was eager to get down to the river to start catching fish to eat and smoke. When I told her I’d never gone fishing, she ‘tsked’ and said I was in for a treat.

  We went fishing a few days later when Fern deemed it was warm enough. We took a picnic lunch and stayed all afternoon and into the evening. It was relaxing and peaceful, even with the excitement of landing a few fish. The aromas of grass, moss, water, and especially fish permeated my senses. At first the fishy odor bothered me but after a while, it became comforting, reminding me of the times Grammy had made catfish for dinner.

  I especially loved sitting on the bank listening to the metallic gick-gick-gick of breeding cricket frogs after sunset. Fern said we would be able to catch bullfrogs in a couple of months and that their legs taste “just like chicken.” She identified all the different animal sounds around us. I never realized nature could be so noisy and so peaceful at the same time.

  We walked slowly home up the trail through the woods, while Spook chased fireflies ahead of us. It had been a beautiful day that would repeat itself many times that summer, just one of the many reasons I finally felt at home.