Dancing in the Rain

by Shelley Hrdlitschka

  Her aunt Laura takes the phone from her, and Brenna goes to her room, shuts the door and collapses onto her bed.

  sixteen

  The emotion that can break your heart is sometimes the very one that heals it.

  (NICHOLAS SPARKS, AT FIRST SIGHT)

  Monday is Remembrance Day, so there is no school and her dad doesn’t have to work. He had brought a wretched-looking Naysa home on Sunday afternoon. She’d gone straight to bed. When Brenna went into her room with a glass of water, she’d noticed that the room was tidy and the dirty clothes and hamper were missing. Her aunts must have cleaned up. She wondered what they thought of Naysa’s new underwear.

  What do you want? Naysa had growled before Brenna could even ask how she was feeling.

  Just checking on you. She’d placed the water beside Naysa’s bed. Dad’s napping, but I warmed up some food. Do you want some?

  Naysa had shaken her head, squeezed her eyes shut and rolled over so her back was to Brenna.

  Today they have hardly spoken, and Brenna has given up even trying to make conversation. They are slouched on the couch, watching talk shows on TV. Her dad has gone to meet with the parents of the girl who had the party. Her phone pings with a text from Ryan.

  How is she this afternoon?

  Brenna responds. Quiet. Grumpy.

  Oh dear. How are you?

  Quiet. Grumpy.

  Hang in there, Brenna. You’re a good sister.

  Nov. 11

  It feels like someone else has died.

  “I’m not going back to school. Ever.”

  Somehow her dad has persuaded Naysa to join them at the table for dinner, but his attempts at conversation are not going well.

  “You can’t drop out of school in the eighth grade, honey.”

  “Watch me.”

  They eat in silence. Brenna wishes she was anywhere but at this table.

  “You can stay home tomorrow,” he tells Naysa, “and I’ll make an appointment with the school counselor.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m not going back. You can’t make me.”

  “Then what are you going to do, Naysa?”

  Brenna can hear the exasperation in his voice.

  Naysa shrugs. She’s staring at her plate but hasn’t touched the food.

  Eventually he gets up and puts his plate in the dishwasher. “Your aunt Laura will be coming by tomorrow morning to keep you company. I’ll check and see who is available in the afternoon.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” Naysa says, still staring at her untouched dinner.

  He ignores her. “I’ll make you a follow-up doctor’s appointment for Wednesday,” he says. “And we’ll see where we go from there.”

  Naysa doesn’t comment. She gets up from the table and leaves the kitchen. Brenna hears the door to her bedroom close. Her dad leans back against the counter and sighs.

  Nov. 11

  I didn’t think it was possible for my dad to look any sadder than he did after Mom died. Can it get any worse?

  From: brennayoko@gmail.com

  To: angiehazelnut@hotmail.com

  My sister ended up in the hospital on Saturday night with alcohol poisoning. She’d also taken Ecstasy. I was too late in trying to get help for her. She’s going to be okay, but things are bad around here, so I think we’ll have to cancel dinner on Thursday.

  B.

  From: angiehazelnut@hotmail.com

  To: brennayoko@gmail.com

  Oh no! I am so sorry! How can I help?

  A.

  Brenna doesn’t respond. How can anyone help?

  Her dad is in the family room, staring at the TV. The screen is blank. He has not turned it on.

  “I’m going out for a bit, Dad. I won’t be late.”

  It takes him a moment to register what she has said. Then he simply nods. He doesn’t comment about it being a school night or ask who she’s going out with. For a moment she thinks maybe she should stay with him, but then she turns, grabs a coat from the closet, runs down the steps and climbs into Ryan’s car. He doesn’t say anything, just puts both arms around her and pulls her in.

  The tension of the day immediately begins to melt away as she breathes him in. She focuses on the beating of his heart. After a long time he pulls away, just enough to see her face.

  “You okay?” His voice is soft.

  She nods. His features are shadowed in the glow of the streetlight. She looks at his lips and remembers the way they felt on her skin. Was that just two nights ago?

  “Where should we go?” he asks.

  “I shouldn’t be gone long,” she says, thinking of her dad’s blank expression. “But,” she says, glancing at the house, “let’s get away from here.”

  A couple of blocks away Ryan pulls into the empty gravel lot beside a park. He shuts off the car and turns so he is facing her. He reaches out for both of her hands. She’s amazed at how warm his skin is. She softly strokes a new callous on his palm.

  “I was shoveling snow all day,” he explains.

  The sound of his voice, the feel of his skin—she wants to bury herself in him, lose herself again, just as she did on Saturday night.

  “Is Naysa okay?” he asks.

  The question pulls her back to the present. “I don’t know. She’s angry. She’s sad. She’s…she’s remote. She says she’s never going back to school.”

  “Is she talking about what she did?”

  “No…and I don’t dare ask anything.”

  Ryan begins to gently squeeze each of Brenna’s fingertips. She watches him, amazed at how something so simple can feel so good.

  “How about you?” he asks.

  “I’m okay.”

  He’s now massaging her palm with his thumb. She wants to forget all about Naysa. “After the movie,” he says. “I want you to know that…that I hadn’t planned that.”

  She touches his lip with her fingertip. “I know. I felt it too. In the theater, right?”

  “Yeah.” He nods. “I’ve never felt such a…well…” He struggles to find the words.

  “A connection?” she asks.

  “Yeah, but more than that. It was overpowering.”

  “I know.” She wants to add that she’s feeling it again now but holds back.

  They sit quietly, and he continues to massage her palm. She doesn’t want him to stop. Ever.

  “Ryan, what did you mean the other day when you said you were scared about going back home?”

  She feels him sink away.

  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  He has stopped massaging her hand, so she begins to press her thumbs into his palm. He watches her fingers. “I’m not sure what my mom’s going to be like,” he says. “She wasn’t…she wasn’t my mom that last time I saw her. She was just kind of…a shell. Like there was nothing going on behind her eyes. She was still breathing, but she wasn’t really alive. I don’t think I can handle it if she’s still like that.”

  Brenna doesn’t respond, just holds his hand tightly. Her dad had been a little like that tonight.

  “And leaving you, especially now…”

  “Especially now?”

  It’s dark in the car, but Brenna can see the troubled expression on his face.

  “After Saturday night…it’s like…like we’ve moved to a whole new level. Maybe it was a mistake.”

  Brenna shakes her head. “How can that have been a mistake? It was…” She can’t finish the sentence.

  “I know,” he says. “But now it’s going to be so much harder to leave.” Ryan’s eyes are shiny with tears.

  Brenna lets go of his hand and pulls him to her. They sit there until they are both chilled, and then, without a word, Ryan drives her home.

  “How’s Naysa?” Georgialee asks. They’re standing in the school cafeteria, looking around for a place to sit. Brenna had called her on Monday and filled her in on what had happened.

  “She says she’s never coming back to school.”


  “I don’t blame her.”

  Brenna looks at her friend. “Really?”

  Georgialee leads the way to a free table. “Those little bitches she was hanging with? It’s all over Facebook. They’re not saying very nice things.”

  “Are you kidding me? She could have died!”

  “Seriously, Brenna.” Georgialee pulls a sandwich out of her bag. “You should get your dad to enroll her in another school. I wouldn’t come back here either if I were her.”

  Brenna unwraps her own sandwich, but she doesn’t take a bite—her appetite is gone. “What’s the matter with those girls?”

  “Well, I guess they were a little choked when the police showed up at their party and escorted them all home. They’re blaming Naysa for getting them busted.”

  Nov. 12

  I promised Mom I’d take care of her.

  Reluctantly Brenna shares with her father what Georgialee told her, and his anger propels him out of his stupor. He agrees to look for other schooling options for Naysa, provided Naysa shuts down her social-media accounts and changes her email address. She agrees, without much fuss. She refuses to attend her appointment with the school counselor, but she agrees to see the family doctor.

  For the first time in a while, Brenna pulls out Kia’s journal and rereads the passage that describes the night she was conceived. Kia’s experience was different than Brenna’s with Ryan, yet there were similarities.

  It was right before he was leaving to go on holidays with his family.

  I couldn’t bear the thought of being apart. It was a physical pain.

  And Kia only had to deal with Derek being gone for a couple of weeks, Brenna thinks. She has to accept that Ryan might be gone for good.

  It was like he had ignited a fire in me and I couldn’t (wouldn’t?) put it out. What could go wrong when it felt so good?

  Only everything.

  Brenna closes the journal and feels a cold sensation spreading through each of her limbs. What if she, too, had gotten pregnant the other night? They’d used condoms, but still…

  Angie emails Brenna, asking her out for lunch, and they decide to meet at the Daily Grind after Brenna’s driving lesson on Saturday. Just seeing her face through the coffee shop’s window cheers Brenna. Angie stands as soon as Brenna steps through the door and welcomes her with a hug.

  “So good to see you,” Angie says.

  Unlike the first time they met, when she’d been so nervous, Brenna takes the time to study Angie while she’s reading the menu. She realizes that anyone seeing them together would guess they’re related, possibly sisters. It is really only her own blue eyes that set them apart. They are about the same height and build, their dark hair color matches, and they both wear it long and straight. Brenna notices that Angie has a dimple in her right cheek, just as she does.

  They select soup and sandwiches, and then Angie leans toward Brenna. “How was your driving lesson?”

  “Pretty good. Except for parallel parking. I hate that.”

  “Everyone does. And how’s your sister?”

  Brenna sighs. “Not so good. Physically she’ll be okay. The seizure she had doesn’t seem to have caused any permanent damage, but she’s really upset and embarrassed about the whole thing and won’t go back to school. Dad’s looking for another school for her.”

  “Oh dear.” Angie looks sincerely troubled.

  “She was being bullied on Facebook, which really didn’t help.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if I’m up for the challenge of teaching high school,” Angie admits. “Kids can be so hard on each other.”

  “Just some kids.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Their lunch arrives and they begin to eat.

  “What else is going on?” Angie asks. “How’s Ryan?”

  Brenna can feel herself sink down in the booth. “He’s fine, except that he’s moving back to Australia.” She fills Angie in on the situation with Ryan’s mom.

  “Wow,” Angie says. “Life sucks for you right now.”

  “Yep.”

  They eat in silence for a minute. “I’d still like to meet your sister,” Angie says. “Maybe I can find a way to help.”

  “I’m not sure how.”

  “Well, maybe I could homeschool her until she finds another school.”

  “Aren’t you in university?”

  “I am. But not all day every day.”

  Brenna thinks about it. “That’s a really nice offer. I could run it by my dad. Maybe he could even pay you, like a tutor.”

  “Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We should all meet first.”

  Brenna nods.

  “I might even be able to incorporate homeschooling into one of my class projects, on setting up lesson plans or something.”

  “I should warn you. My dad was worried about me reconnecting with you right now.”

  Angie nods. “Yeah, I haven’t told my parents about meeting you yet. I will though.”

  “But not Kia.”

  Their eyes meet. “No, not Kia. Not yet anyway.”

  Not yet, Brenna thinks. At least she didn’t say not ever.

  As arranged, Ryan picks Brenna up from outside the coffee shop and they drive to Georgialee’s house. The plan is to order in pizza and play games that evening. It turns out that Ryan’s competitive streak runs as deep as Georgialee’s, so he encouraged them to plan a games night. But first they’re going to take Bentley for a hike, before it gets dark.

  “Remember what we were doing this time last week?” Ryan says. They are sitting on Quarry Rock, which, for a change, is deserted. The clouds have lifted, and streaks of sunshine slash the water. Mist hangs over Indian Arm. A lone paddleboarder in a black wet suit glides by far below.

  Brenna glances at her phone. “Actually, we were still at the movie.” She smiles.

  “Do you have any regrets about…about the rest of the evening?”

  She leans her shoulder into his. “No. Unless, of course, I got pregnant. Then I’d have regrets.”

  “You didn’t get pregnant.”

  “Nothing’s foolproof. Especially not condoms. Maybe I should have taken one of those morning-after pills.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “Kia didn’t think she was going to get pregnant with me. She sounds like a smart person. She would have used something.”

  Ryan twirls her hair with his finger.

  “Did your parents plan you?” she asks.

  “I don’t actually know, but not likely, given my father’s disappearing act.”

  “I always wished I’d been planned and not just an accident.”

  Ryan doesn’t comment but twirls Brenna’s strand of hair in the other direction.

  “Mind you,” she continues, “if I did get pregnant and had the baby, you’d have a Canadian child. That would be one way to get you back here.”

  “Shh, Brenna,” he whispers in her ear. “Don’t talk like that.” He kisses her temple.

  “Seriously, Ryan. Some girls might even do that on purpose.”

  “Brenna.”

  “I wouldn’t give my baby up like Kia did. I’d make it work. She might have been better off if she’d kept me. She wouldn’t have gotten so depressed.”

  “Brenna,” Ryan says again. Now he kisses her on the lips, but she turns her head away.

  “Seriously,” she says again. “I know I had great parents, but you can’t know what it feels like to be given away as a baby.”

  “Brenna, I’ve never heard you talk like this.” He’s studying her now, his head tilted. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing’s going on. It’s the truth.”

  Ryan scuttles over so he’s sitting behind her. He lifts her hair and begins to massage her shoulders. She stiffens. “Maybe seeing Angie isn’t such a good idea after all,” he says.

  She jerks away from him. “Of course it’s a good idea.” She scrambles to her feet and pulls on Bentley’s leash. “We’d better go. It’s going to
get dark soon.” She heads toward the trail, leaving a bewildered Ryan staring at her back.

  “Hey, you two,” Georgialee scolds. They’re in Georgialee’s rec room with a bunch of her friends. “Get in the game or no one’s going to pick you to be on their team next time.”

  Next time. Will there even be a next time? Ryan is only here for two more weekends, unless, by some stroke of luck, he ends up coming back after Christmas. But even he’s not holding out much hope of that.

  Despite Georgialee’s threats, Brenna finds she can’t muster up any enthusiasm for the game.

  “Wanna go home?” Ryan asks quietly.

  She nods.

  There are lewd comments about where they’re really going and what they’re actually going to do, but Brenna can’t even find the energy to respond.

  “Thanks, Georgialee,” she says at the door. “I’m just not into it tonight.”

  Georgialee hugs them both. “No worries. You’ve got lots going on. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Ryan pulls his car up to the curb outside her house and turns off the ignition. “I only have two more weeks,” he says. “We have to make the most of them.”

  Brenna knows that this is his tactful way of suggesting she shouldn’t launch into senseless rants or be a party-pooper. She’s too empty to respond.

  “On Quarry Rock,” he says, “I just wanted us to remember how nice it was…being together. I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “I know.”

  “We don’t have to…to be together like that again if you’re too worried.” He cocks his head, looking at her sideways. “There are other things we can do…or not,” he adds.

  Brenna doesn’t respond.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says. “How ’bout I come up with a new adventure?”

  She tries to smile. “Okay.”

  They hug for a long, long time.

  Nov. 16

  A can of worms.

  Maybe they were right.

  Now that it’s been opened, can I shove them back in the can?

  I don’t think so.

  Bright sunlight wakes Brenna on Sunday morning. Looking out her window, she notices the thick layer of frost on the cars parked on the street.