These Gentle Wounds

by Helene Dunbar

  As she hugs the camera to her chest, a devilish smile spreads across her face. It gives her dimples that make me smile too. “Well … how about this. Come camping with us, and I’ll show you then.”

  I like her teasing. Aside from Kevin, everyone is always totally serious around me, as if laughing is going make me break into a hundred pieces.

  Before I can say anything, Luke untangles himself from Jessie. “Come on, squirt, I need to drop you home. Jess and I have homework to do.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet.” Sarah smirks at him and then winks at me. “But I need you to run me by the library first.”

  “Sarah … ” Luke folds his arms like he’s going to put up a fight. “Gordie, you need a ride?” he asks in my direction.

  I shake my head “no” before I realize what a mistake that is. I watch as they all walk out, hearing their light-hearted fighting as they head out of the rink.

  I’m filled with envy. I’m not sure if my conversations with Kevin are ever that simple.

  I think about this as I walk home alone. And I’m still thinking about it when I get into the house and am assaulted by the nauseating smells of popcorn, cigarettes, and beer.

  Kevin is laughing with his friends. It’s obvious that Jim is out again and Kevin has claimed the den for a night of DVDs.

  I make it upstairs without throwing up, talking to anyone, or, I hope, anyone seeing me. Something about being with Sarah and Luke, or Sarah really, has made me want to be by myself. Or with her.

  But my plan is to not think about anything real. I figure if I plow through my math and history homework tonight, I’ll have all of it done for class through Monday, even though it’s only Wednesday night. I don’t know what shape I’m going to be in tomorrow night, or what’s going to happen after that, and it helps to be prepared.

  I tackle geometry first. Find X: m
  The bedroom door opens but I try to ignore it. Downstairs a plane drops bombs on an unsuspecting village. The sound of people screaming matches the ache in my stomach.

  Kevin hangs over my shoulder; I fight to stay lost in numbers.

  “Come downstairs,” he says. “It’s just Mark and Bryce.”

 
  “Ice. Come on, take a break.”

  “Can’t,” I say. Xs flip over and over in my head.

  Kevin spins my chair around to face him. I have to shake the numbers out of my brain.

  “What’s your GPA?” he asks.

  “3.854,” I answer without thinking.

  “Really?” He’s so shocked he actually takes a step back. Even my brother forgets that I’m smart. I nod.

  “You’re a freak. You know that, right?” But he’s smiling. “I think you’ve earned time off for a movie.”

  “I can’t. I have to get this all done tonight.” I’m actually itching to get back to it. My thumb starts moving and my head is already halfway back into my homework.

  “When’s your … ” He picks up my book and looks at the spine. “Geometry due?”

  “Monday,” I admit.

  “So why do you need to do it all tonight?”

  “Leave me alone,” I yell, then cover my mouth with my hands. I never yell. I never yell at him. “Sorry,” I say, making sure my voice is quiet. “Sorry.”

  He shakes his head and the smile disappears. I almost wish he’d scream back at me or something. It would be easier than this disappointed look.

  “Fine. Have it your way,” he says, but he just stands there like that’s the last thing he wants. “You know, whatever he’s done, you let him win when you do this,” he says softly.

  I think about that for a minute.

  I turn back to my math. “He’s already won.”

  Eleven

  I have a plan. It may not be a good plan. It may be the stupidest plan ever. It might not even work. But at least it’s mine.

  My plan is that I’m going to sit there. I’m going to sit there, and stay quiet, and play a movie in my mind, and go somewhere else and let the vulture rant and rave on his own. My plan is that I’ll be there, but I won’t. My body might be in the room. I might be twitching like I’ve stuck my finger in an electric socket. But I won’t be there. Not really.

  I practice it all day. I’m in class, but I’m not. A few teachers look at me with that worried look I’ve seen too many times before, but I make sure I’m out of the room as soon as the bell rings.

  I practice it in the car, when Kevin drives me to Ms. DeSilva’s office. But that’s a lot harder.

  “You’re in there, right?” he asks as I sit, statue still, in the passenger’s seat.

  “Yeah.” I struggle to get the word out.

  When we come to a stop sign, he takes a hand off the wheel and puts it on my arm and squeezes. I expect him to say, “It’s okay,” like he always does. But he doesn’t, and I’m glad. There’s no way I could take his word for it this time.

  When the car starts moving again, he doesn’t remove his hand, but I’m doing such a good job at being somewhere else that I don’t fully feel its weight anymore.

  Then we’re in the building. I look around, amazed that nothing has changed in the last five years. The carpet is the same paisley pattern that looks like a rainbow vomited all over it. The closer we get to her office, the harder it is to believe any time has passed at all.

  Kevin guides me through the halls with a hand on my shoulder until we get to Ms. DeSilva’s office. Then he takes a deep breath and pushes me like a battering ram through the door.

  I don’t remember a ton about Amy DeSilva except that she was nice to me, she didn’t say mean things about my mom, and she never told me things would be okay just to have something to say.

  She looks exactly like she did five years ago. She still has that middle-aged-woman hairstyle you have to go to a salon to get—all puffy and curled. Only Kevin and I look different.

  “Look at you,” she says, holding my arms out. Kevin smirks, but I wish I could see what she’s seeing. I can’t imagine anything about me that would make her so happy.

  I try to smile back, but I just end up biting on my lip as she leans over and gives Kevin a hug and gestures for us to sit down.

  “So, I know this isn’t how you boys want to spend this afternoon, but we all have to follow the law. The court has granted your father’s petition for this supervised meeting, and I wanted to go over what will happen and make sure you don’t have any questions.”

  A hundred million questions all rush to the front of my head, each of them yelling “Pick me! Pick me!” I’m determined not to let a single word escape my lips. If I start talking, I won’t be able to stop. And if that happens, I’m afraid I’m going to start talking about what happened on The Night Before and there’s no way I’m letting that happen.

  I start snapping my bracelet and don’t quit until Kevin leans over and knocks me on the leg. Then I sit on my hand, but I can still feel the muscles jerking.

  Ms. DeSilva leans over her desk and clasps her hands together. Her nails are a deep shiny red that match the carpet. “Gordie, your father is going to be here in about fifteen minutes. I’m going to have my assistant take him straight into the conference room and let me know when he’s there. Then I’ll take you in. I’m afraid that Kevin is going to have to wait outside, but I’ll be in there with you and I’ll stay there for the whole visit. Okay?”

  She looks at me, waiting for me to tell her it’s okay, but nothing about this is okay. I manage a nod, but it’s a struggle. I don’t want to go in there looking like I really give a damn.

  She obviously notices because she offers me something to drink. I can’t imagine being able to hold anything down, so I shake my head again.

  “I know you haven’t seen your father in a long time,
so this meeting will be short and we’ll keep things casual, okay? We’ll just see how it goes.”

  Then she looks at Kevin. “Are there any questions I can answer, or do the two of you need a few minutes?”

  I have no intention of opening my mouth. Of course, Kevin can’t keep quiet. “Thanks. I think some time might be good, Ms. DeSilva,” he says.

  She gets up and gathers her papers. “You know, I think it would be all right if you called me Amy. You aren’t little boys anymore.”

  Kevin nods. Aside from Jim, I’ve never called adults by their first names. Even with Jim, it’s easier not to call him anything at all.

  The door lock clicks as she closes it.

  Kevin turns his chair to face mine. “You can do this, Gordie. It’s just twenty minutes.”

  I nod, even though “twenty minutes” with my father sounds like a lifetime.

  “Give me your watch.” He holds his hand out and I undo the strap and hand it to him. He fiddles around with it and gives it back. I don’t look at it when I put it back on.

  “Are you going to talk to him at all?” Kevin asks. He sounds calm, but he’s running his hand through his hair like it’s an animal he’s trying to tame.

  I try really hard to wrap my lips around one word, to say “No,” but my plan has taken over my brain. I shake my head.

  He closes his eyes and swears under his breath.

  “You realize that all you’re going to do is to piss him off, right?”

  I shrug. I don’t care.

  “I don’t suppose you want to let me know what the hell you’re thinking?”

  I don’t shake my head this time. He knows better.

  “Ice … ” he starts, but leaves the rest of the question in the air and sighs. “Just sit tight for a couple of minutes.”

  I close my eyes to the sound of the door shutting. I let myself go, but it isn’t really a spin. It isn’t some memory from when I was a kid. Instead, I’m on top of the train with Sarah. I can feel the soft snow landing on my hand. I can feel the weight of her arms on my shoulders as she showed me how to use her camera.

  It’s nice. It’s strange. It probably means I’m crazy, but right now, I don’t care. I focus on how she smells like the lilacs we used to have in the backyard of our old house.

  There’s music in the way she says my name. I feel like I could fly on the sound her words make. My breathing slows and my hand relaxes.

  Then the door opens and it isn’t Kevin. Ms. DeSilva pulls one of the chairs over to the couch where I’m sitting.

  “Your brother says you’re scared to see your father.”

  My hand clenches again and I knock it into the arm of the couch. My brother has a big mouth.

  “He’s worried about you. I know it’s been a long time since you’ve seen your dad. The last time was at the funeral, right?”

  I nod.

  “Can you tell me if there are any other concerns you have?”

  Other concerns? My mind races with them, each worse than the one before. I imagine telling her everything about what my father used to do to Kevin and about The Night Before. I imagine how pissed my brother would be at me for blabbing his secrets, and what he’d think of me once he finds out what a coward I am.

  I jam my hand under my leg and shake my head. I know she gets that there’s stuff I’m keeping to myself. But she’s a lawyer or something, not a shrink. I don’t think I have to talk to her even though she’s nice and if I was going to talk to someone, I know she wouldn’t be a bad choice.

  “Gordie, is there anything I can do to help you?”

  I can tell she means it, and for a minute I feel bad for not confessing my secrets to her. I force myself to swallow and to say softly, “No. Thank you.”

  Her face falls, but she nods at me anyhow. “Okay. But you know that you can talk to me if you need to.”

  She stands up, straightens her skirt, and opens the door. “Come on. He’s waiting for you.”

  I follow her out of her office. She’s walking slowly, and it’s like being in one of those old pirate movies where the guy is walking the plank. I want to stop and say that I’ve done nothing wrong and don’t deserve this, but I know that isn’t true so I keep my mouth shut.

  When we get to the end of the hall, she pauses outside the door and Kevin pulls me aside. He looks almost as jumbled up as I feel.

  He grabs my arm and pushes a button on my watch, then whispers in my ear: “Twenty minutes and it will be over.”

  I look down and see the stopwatch on my wrist counting down the seconds.

  Ms. DeSilva opens the door and leads me in. I look at the floor, following the trail of paisleys in. I don’t want to look up. I don’t want to see his eyes, but I can feel them on me. Stripping me. Cutting into me.

  I can see the legs of a chair so I push myself into it. I grip the arms, and I look up.

  Twelve

  Five years. I’ve grown a foot and gained forty pounds in the past five years. Our country has elected new presidents. The National Hockey League has added a few teams and restructured the divisions. But my father has stayed the same.

  It’s weird because I expected him to have changed. Instead, he just looks grayer. I can see the muscles bulging on his neck, and it makes me a little sick to think that he works out and could probably squeeze himself into his old hockey gear.

  That thought makes the back of my neck start to tingle. I pull my shoulders up and rub my temples, which doesn’t keep my head from feeling like it’s going to split apart.

  His mouth opens and I push myself back into the chair, waiting to hear the vulture sounds, but I don’t. All I hear is blood rushing through my head.

  Ms. DeSilva is staring at me the same way that Jim stares at Kevin’s meals; like I’m a science experiment she’s waiting to turn color or boil over.

  His lips are moving, but I don’t hear anything. Just whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.

  I look down at my watch: 18 minutes, 3 seconds, 1 tenth. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

  I get up and walk over to the glass wall. It’s cool under my hands and I can see myself reflected, along with him. I wonder if this is like the interrogation rooms on cop shows on TV. The ones where they can see in but we can’t see out. I wonder if Kevin is on the other side watching me. I wonder if he’s going to be angry that my blood is so loud I can’t hear anything else.

  I feel Ms. DeSilva’s arm, gentle around my shoulders. She’s turning me so that I’m facing him. He puts his hand out. I look at it. It’s calloused like I remember. And large. I used to think I only remembered his hands being so big because I was a kid, but no, they’re still really big. Even now.

  In my head I can see those hands punching Kevin over and over. My whole body shudders until I look away.

  Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 13 minutes. 42 seconds. 3 tenths.

  I sit back down, wishing I could think about Sarah, but I don’t want to think about her here. I want to think about Mom, but something about that seems wrong too. I don’t want to betray her by doing that with him right in front of me.

  Instead, I think about hockey. I think about skating really, really fast around the rink. It’s the closest I can get to flying. It feels free, and light, and cold, and everything is clean, and pure, and white. If I was asked to build a rink, I’d build one shaped like an Olympic swimming pool, long and thin. I want to skate for an hour in a single straight line, gaining speed all the time like I’m doing in my head now.

  I can feel the wind in my face and over the whooshing sound I can hear blades cutting into ice. It’s one of my favorite sounds in the world; the call of some metallic bird flying through a frozen sky.

  My breath speeds up as I zip across the surface of the ice. I want to keep skating until I’m a million miles away from here.

  Something clamps down on my shoulder and I struggle, but
it’s stronger than I am. My eyelids flutter as I’m pulled from the rink in my mind.

  When I open my eyes Kevin is there, but he isn’t supposed to be. I wonder if he’s going to get into trouble. I look at my watch.

  8 minutes. 12 seconds. 4 tenths. Tick. Tick.

  Everyone is buzzing around and making me dizzy. I wonder if this is what it feels like to pass out.

  Kevin leans down and puts an arm around my neck. “This is over.” His voice is loud and sharp and sounds like someone else.

  “Yes,” says Ms. DeSilva. “I agree. I think we need to stop for now.”

  “What the hell have you done to him?” I hear, in vulture rasps.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Kevin says, in a tone I haven’t heard him use in years. I get a whiff of Ms. DeSilva’s perfume as she crosses in front of me, and suddenly we’re alone. Just me and Kevin. I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. His voice is still weird, like he’d punch something with it if he could. His hands are clenched so tight his knuckles are white.

  I nod. “Yeah. I was … I was skating,” I know it sounds weird, but I expect my words to reassure him even though they don’t. “What’s wrong?”

  “You can’t … ” He turns his back to me and I think for a second that he’s going to lose it and hit something. I pull back hard in my chair. “Damn it, Ice, don’t … ”

  He takes a deep breath and then lets it out. Ms. DeSilva comes back in and shuts the door. “Is he okay?” she asks Kevin.

  People do that sometimes—talk as if I’m not there. Sometimes it’s fine, because it means I don’t have to answer, but usually it’s just really annoying. I’m not sure which it is now.

  “As okay as he ever is,” Kevin hisses, spinning away from me.

  “Does this happen often?” She looks from him to me. I’m not sure if I’m meant to answer or if she’s still talking to Kevin.

  “Yeah, my brother does stupid shit all the time,” Kevin says as he paces in front of the conference table.