Dancing in the Rain

by Shelley Hrdlitschka

  Ryan and Brenna glance at each other, startled by her choice of words.

  “Brenna, did you tell your dad you were meeting us?” Justin asks.

  Brenna shakes her head but doesn’t meet his gaze.

  “Same reason?” Justin asks.

  “Kind of. He wouldn’t forbid me to be here—I just didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Until now, I was never very curious about Kia. That changed when my mom died.”

  Ryan, who’s been sitting completely still, now leans his shoulder into hers. “Are you going to mention the social-justice project?”

  Justin and Angie look at Brenna.

  “Ever since you contacted me,” Brenna says, “I’ve had a fantasy of reconnecting with Kia. When you told me she was working in Uganda, I lost hope of that ever happening, but then I suggested to my Social Justice Club that we raise money and send it to support her organization.”

  “You did?” Justin’s eyes light up.

  “Well, I haven’t sold them on the idea yet, but I’m trying.”

  “Like mother, like daughter. Social activists.” His smile is warm.

  Angie is frowning. “God knows they can use the money, but there’s a good chance Kia knows what school you go to because she knows where you live. Getting a donation from any school would be a surprise, but a donation from your school…well, it would be too big of a coincidence. Kia would figure out I told you where she is.”

  “Could you donate it anonymously?” Justin asks.

  Brenna doesn’t meet his eyes. If she donates it anonymously, it defeats the purpose. It was her way to connect with Kia.

  “Perhaps you could support another organization,” he suggests. He looks from Angie to Brenna, sensing the standoff.

  “Maybe,” Brenna says, knowing she never will but not wanting Justin to realize how selfish her motives have been. She’s clearly not her birth mom’s daughter after all. Justin was wrong about that.

  The subject is changed, but so is the mood around the table. Justin and Ryan do their best to maintain a lightness to the conversation, but Brenna and Angie have each retreated into their own private worlds.

  When they leave the coffee shop there are awkward hugs and handshakes, but Brenna doesn’t know if she’ll hear from Angie again, or even if she wants to.

  Sept. 27

  She never stopped missing me!!!!!!

  So then why wouldn’t she want to connect with me?

  twelve

  Love opens your heart, trumps fear, and paves the way for healing in all aspects of your life.

  (LISSA RANKIN, MIND OVER MEDICINE)

  Ryan doesn’t work on Saturday, but he picks Brenna up after her shift and drives her home.

  “How old are you anyway?” she asks as he pulls into her driveway. Her father’s car is parked outside, and it reminds her of their conversation a few days ago.

  “Eighteen. Nineteen next month. How old are you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “I keep thinking you’re older.”

  “Is that a problem for you?” she asks, not looking at him.

  “Is what a problem?”

  “That I’m only sixteen.” Now she does look directly at him.

  “Why would it be?” He smiles. “Is it a problem for you that I’m eighteen?”

  “No.” She smiles back. “But it might be for my father. Especially the almost-nineteen part.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t know me. Maybe you should invite him to hike with us.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  Ryan laughs. “Okay, then invite me in. When he discovers how charming and clever and charismatic I am…”

  Brenna laughs and opens the car door. “Come on in then,” she says. “Let’s see how clever you really are. Charming, well, yeah, I already know about that.”

  They find her dad and Naysa leaning over a jigsaw puzzle at a small table in the corner of the family room. Before Brenna has a chance to say anything, Ryan extends his hand to her father. “Hello, Mr. Yokoyama. We met once, briefly, at the door. I’m Ryan. I know Brenna from Grouse.”

  Brenna’s dad clasps his outstretched hand. “Hi, Ryan. Please call me Brett. Do you know Naysa?”

  “Yep, I’ve met the young math genius.”

  A flicker of a smile tugs at Naysa’s mouth, but she doesn’t respond. She’s still in her pajamas.

  “I’m going to get out of my bear-minding clothes,” Brenna says. “I’ll be right back.”

  When she returns to the family room, Naysa is gone and Ryan is leaning over the table, telling her dad about his work at Grouse.

  “You’ve finished school then?” he asks.

  “For now. I’ll finish when I return to Australia.”

  “When will that be?” Brenna’s dad slides a puzzle piece into place, and the completed eye of a bright-green frog stares back at them.

  “Not yet determined.” Ryan places a piece to complete the frog’s mouth. It curls up into a pleased expression.

  Her father’s phone rings. He answers it and wanders out of the room and down the hall to his office.

  “I think that went well,” Ryan says. He grins at Brenna before returning his focus to the puzzle.

  Brenna picks up a piece and examines it. She then studies the puzzle. They work in silence for a few minutes.

  “Have you made any decisions about the Aid-A-Child fundraiser?” he asks.

  Brenna glances at the door to the room, making sure no one is listening. “My heart’s not really in it anymore,” she says. “It was hard to admit to myself that it was never about the kids, only about me.”

  While Ryan searches through the remaining puzzle pieces in the box, Brenna’s thoughts return to the meeting the previous night. Before they left, Justin had shared his involvement with Kia during her pregnancy.

  “Justin seems like a really nice guy,” she says. “Imagine being the birth coach when it’s not even your own baby. I couldn’t believe he’d even considered adopting me himself.”

  “Yeah, that was amazing.”

  “I wonder why he and Kia never hooked up. She wrote in her journal that she was attracted to him and thought they’d be good together.”

  Ryan looks up from the puzzle. “Because he’s gay.”

  “He is? How do you know?”

  “I sent him a friend request on Facebook when I got home last night. He accepted. You can tell from his pictures that his partner isn’t a business partner.”

  “Oh. Well. That explains some of the missing pieces in the journal. Kia couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t interested in her as a girlfriend.”

  “Speaking of missing pieces,” Ryan says, pointing to a hole in the puzzle, “I think this piece is missing. I’ve looked through the whole box and there are no more green ones.”

  “It’ll show up,” she says. “They always do.”

  “Spoken like a true puzzle nerd. I mean, master.”

  She gives his arm a friendly slap.

  He grins. “By the way,” he says, glancing at the door, “did you get a chance to talk to Naysa about last night?”

  “No, not yet.”

  The doorbell chimes. Ryan glances at her.

  “Probably a casserole delivery,” she says. They can hear her father’s footsteps going down the stairs to the front door. A moment later they hear a clatter of footsteps running up the stairs, and Georgialee and Bentley burst into the room. Georgialee drops Bentley’s leash so he can gallop over to greet Brenna. She squats down to hug him. His whole body wiggles with joy.

  “Hey,” Ryan says. “You must be Georgialee.”

  “I am. And you’re Ryan?”

  “Yep.” They both glance at Brenna, who is giving the dog a full-body scratch. “So that would be Bentley.”

  Brenna eventually stands up, and Georgialee retrieves the dog’s leash. “What’s happening?”

  Brenna can tell she’s sizing Ryan up.

  “Your best mate—the puzzle pro—was giving me some puzzle-making advic
e,” Ryan says.

  “Out for a run?” Brenna checks out Georgialee’s spandex tights and singlet, noting that she manages to look good even when she’s all sweaty.

  “Yeah, and I was running past your house and thought I’d see what you’re doing tonight.”

  Brenna glances shyly at Ryan. They’d never spent a Saturday night together, and she didn’t want to assume anything. “I dunno. Why?”

  “A bunch of us are going out for sushi and a movie.” She looks at the puzzle. “If you can drag yourself away from all this fun,” she says, “you should join us. You too,” she says to Ryan.

  Before Brenna can open her mouth, Ryan responds. “I’m in.”

  Georgialee high-fives him. “Good,” she says. “And try to drag Brenna along. I haven’t seen much of her lately.” She pulls on Bentley’s leash. “I’ll let myself out. See you guys later.”

  They clatter back down the stairs.

  “She seems nice,” Ryan says, returning to the puzzle.

  Brenna’s phone buzzes. She checks the screen and sees a text from Georgialee.

  Not bad.

  She pulls a puzzle piece out of the box and slots it into the hole Ryan had thought was missing its piece. “Seems you’re not so clever after all.”

  “Puzzle nerd.”

  On Sunday morning Brenna finds Naysa sprawled on the family room couch, channel-surfing. She glances out the window, checking for Ryan’s car. She checks the time on her phone, sighs and steps over to the table where the puzzle lies unfinished. “So who was the friend you were with the other night?” she asks.

  “None of your business.”

  Brenna is startled by the tone of her sister’s voice.

  “I was just asking. She must have a name.”

  “Why would I tell you anything? You’d go straight to Dad.”

  “I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine if you’re drinking and smoking,” Brenna says, her anger flaring.

  Naysa glances at the door, obviously worried that their father will overhear them.

  “Okay, you tell me who you were with at the Daily Grind, and I’ll tell you their names.”

  Now it’s Brenna’s turn to glance at the door. “How do you know I was at the Daily Grind?”

  “We were going to go in, but I saw you in the window. It was your birth mom, wasn’t it?”

  “No! She’s way too young to be my birth mom.”

  Naysa flicks off the TV and steps over to the window. “Ryan’s here,” she says.

  Brenna’s heart stirs at the sound of his name, yet she has to know. “Why do you think—?” She doesn’t get the question out.

  “Because you look just like her.”

  The doorbell rings.

  “I tried talking to Naysa this morning,” Brenna tells Ryan. They’re sitting on a bluff on Mount Seymour, looking over the city below them. Bentley lies at their feet, panting. Georgialee had willingly agreed to let him hike with them.

  “How did it go?”

  “Not good. She shut me right down. And then she asked who we were with in the coffee shop. Apparently she was spying on me.”

  “Did you tell her?”

  “No, I don’t want it to get back to Dad.”

  Ryan sighs. He scratches Bentley’s ears. “Maybe if you shared that with her, she’d trust you with her stuff.”

  Brenna shrugs one shoulder.

  Ryan changes the subject. “I had a good time last night. I like your mates.”

  “My friends.” She corrects him with a smile. “You’re in Canada now.”

  “Okay, your friends,” he says. “The only people I know in Vancouver are the ones I’ve met at Grouse. It was nice to hang out with other people, though it reminds me how much I miss my mates back home. I mean…my friends.”

  Brenna leans into him, and he strokes her hair.

  “But the best part of the night was the last part,” he says quietly.

  Brenna’s whole body responds as she remembers the kiss they’d shared when he dropped her off. It had started soft and gentle, his lips simply caressing hers, and her body flooded with sensation. Ryan must have felt it too, because his fingers wound through her hair and his kissing became more urgent, almost rough. His hands had begun to explore her body before he suddenly broke away and sat back.

  I think you’d better go in, he’d said. We don’t want to get carried away.

  She’d nodded but hadn’t moved. There was a disconnect between what her brain told her to do and what her body had wanted.

  Or maybe we do, he’d said and laughed a little as he reached for her hand. A car is not the place though.

  Her breathing had eventually returned to normal, but she still hadn’t wanted to get out of the car. I’ll see you tomorrow, she’d said finally and leaned over to kiss the tip of his nose.

  I think we’d better bring an escort, Ryan teased.

  How about Bentley? she suggested.

  Perfect, he’d said. And we’ll change it up and hike Dog Mountain. Dogs are welcome there.

  Now Ryan plunges his hand into Bentley’s fur. “Kinda hard for a guy to hold back when the kissing is that good,” he says, remembering.

  “Kinda hard for a girl too.”

  He gives her a shy glance. “You’re not on the pill or anything, are you?”

  She can’t meet his eyes. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend.”

  “A looker like you? I’m gobsmacked!”

  She laughs at his choice of words and elbows him in the ribs.

  “Then we’d better take it slow,” he says.

  She nods.

  “But maybe I’ll buy some condoms…just in case.”

  She sits quietly for a moment. “Okay. I wouldn’t want to carry on the family tradition.”

  He looks at her, puzzled.

  “Becoming a teen mom.”

  “Ah. Right. That family tradition.” He drapes his arm around her shoulder and pulls her in close.

  From: justintime@yahoo.com

  To: brennayoko@gmail.com

  Dear Brenna,

  It was great to see you again the other night. I know you were disappointed that Angie didn’t want you to contact Kia via Aid–A-Child. I hope you’ll still consider raising funds and have someone else donate the money. The work she does is so hard and yet so important. Family secrets often have dire consequences, but that’s the kind of secret I’d encourage. Such a beautiful gesture it would be.

  Anyway, let’s keep in touch. Kia would be so proud of the girl you’ve become. Maybe someday she’ll be ready to connect with you again.

  J.

  Sept. 29

  He’s wrong. I’d be a big fat disappointment to Kia.

  “Each week we could go downtown in groups of three or four and hand out food and warm clothes to the people on the Downtown Eastside. We could keep collection boxes outside the school office for donations.”

  Brenna listens as Jas pitches his social-justice project to the group.

  “It fits into our mandate of doing something close to home,” Jas continues, “and we won’t have to fundraise. It’s a service project that will make a difference to people in our own city. We will see firsthand what our efforts can do.”

  “Isn’t that just a Band-Aid solution?” Georgialee asks. “We’re not addressing the problem of why people are homeless.”

  “I say let the politicians deal with that,” Jas responds. “It’s too big for us to solve, but we can help keep people warm and fed.”

  Brenna’s mind wanders as the discussion continues. They now have four social-justice projects to choose from. Two others were pitched last week. When there’s a lull in the conversation, she speaks up. “I’m withdrawing the Aid-A-Child idea,” she says. “That will make it easier to choose a project.”

  Everyone turns to look at her.

  “Why are you withdrawing it?” Georgialee asks.

  Brenna sh
rugs. “I just am. I don’t really have the energy right now to spearhead it.”

  There’s a quiet moment as they all regard her. Then Jas picks up a red marker and draws a line through Aid-A-Child on the list of projects written on the whiteboard.

  Oct. 3

  Sorry, Kia.

  Sorry, Justin.

  Brenna’s phone pings with a text from Ryan.

  I got the job!! I start tm! Going to a game with my unc 2nite. C U on the mt. tm. xo

  Brenna smiles as she texts him back.

  Congratulations! xoxoxo

  Even though Brenna has withdrawn the Aid-A-Child project from the Social Justice Club’s list, she still finds herself drawn to its website. She scrolls through it, following the links and reading the stories of many of the orphans. She’s so immersed in it that she jumps, startled, when she hears the key in the front-door lock. She glances at the clock and sees that it’s eleven fifteen. Naysa is fifteen minutes past her weekend curfew. Brenna hears the footsteps on the stairs and expects Naysa to poke her head into the room to say hello as usual. She doesn’t. Nor does she go into the kitchen for a snack or stop by her father’s room to say goodnight. There’s just the click of her bedroom door as it shuts.

  Brenna returns to the Aid-A-Child website, scrolling through the photos again, peering into each face, looking for an aid worker who looks like her, only older.

  When Brenna arrives at the bear habitat on Saturday morning, Ryan is already hard at work with a team of young guys, pulling down the fencing, preparing the mountain for the winter season when the habitat becomes part of the ski and snowboarding terrain.

  Ryan waves and smiles when he sees her. He pulls off his ballcap and wipes his forehead with his sleeve. The temperature on the mountain has dropped considerably over the past week, but all the guys working with Ryan are red-cheeked with exertion. She waves and goes into Ski Wee.