Dancing in the Rain

by Shelley Hrdlitschka

  Her phone rings. Ryan. She takes a deep breath and wills herself to sound cheery.

  “A ton of snow fell on the mountains last night,” Ryan says.

  “Hi to you too.”

  “Sorry. I’m just so excited. We’re going snowshoeing for our big adventure today! Put on your snow clothes!”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go back out and see the eagles? I bet there’s already a lot more.” She yawns loudly.

  “I’m giving you one hour, Brenna. And I’ll pack the lunch this time, and you can borrow my uncle’s snowshoes. You just get your beautiful self ready.”

  Brenna finds her father in his office, staring at the computer screen.

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Morning, Brenna.”

  She sits in the plush chair beside the window. “Any luck finding another school for Naysa?” she asks.

  He swivels around in his chair to face her. The circles under his eyes are darker than ever. “Not yet. But Dr. Price, the psychologist the doctor recommended, seems to be a good fit. We both like her, and Naysa’s willing to talk to her. She’s not convinced that changing schools is the answer, though she hasn’t told Naysa that. She just feels it would teach her to run away from her problems.”

  Brenna nods, but she thinks about what Georgialee said, how she wouldn’t return to their school under the circumstances.

  “She says the drugs and alcohol were just a way of lashing out, kind of a breakdown. Losing Mom and starting a new school so soon after that was too much for her. She’s always been a sensitive kid, and with all this… well, she’s struggling.” He rubs his face. “I should have realized, but I’ve been too caught up in my own stuff.” His eyes snag hers. He frowns. “Maybe you’d like to talk with Dr. Price too?”

  She shakes her head.

  “Okay, but promise you’ll let me know if you change your mind.”

  Brenna promises, but she knows that no amount of counseling could help her stop missing her mom.

  “I hope Naysa can find a way back to her old group of friends. In the meantime she’ll keep on meeting with Dr. Price.”

  Brenna nods, thinking about it, and then remembers why she came to see her father. “I saw Angie again yesterday. We met for lunch after my driving lesson.”

  “Angie? Oh. Kia’s sister.” He regards his daughter.

  “She suggested that, if you wanted and if Naysa agrees, she might be able to tutor Naysa or homeschool her until you have something arranged or until she’s ready to go back.”

  “You shared our family problems with her?”

  Brenna stiffens. “They’re my problems too, and she really wants to help.”

  Her dad takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “It just seems that she’s…she’s an odd person to turn to right now.”

  “Why? I think she’s just the right person. She didn’t know Mom, so she’s not sad like Aunt Laura and Aunt Tamara. Her own sister is far away, and she seems to genuinely care and want to help. You could at least meet her.”

  Her dad doesn’t say anything for a moment. He stares out the window. Finally he turns and meets Brenna’s eyes. “How about dinner on Tuesday? I’ll let you cook.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I know you’ll like her.”

  He nods, but not convincingly.

  “And I’m going snowshoeing today with Ryan.”

  “Snowshoeing? That will be a good workout.” He watches as Brenna gets up and walks across the room.

  “He’s been good for you.”

  Brenna spins around.

  “Ryan. I can see how strong you’re getting, how fit.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ryan has a theory that if you get strong on the outside, it helps you get strong on the inside.”

  He nods thoughtfully.

  “You want to come?”

  Her dad smiles. “Not today. But I like the way he thinks.”

  Ryan shows Brenna how to strap the snowshoes onto her hiking boots. He takes Bentley’s leash and leads the way across the parking lot toward the Dog Mountain Trail. Bentley can barely contain his excitement. He’s prancing and tugging on the leash. Brenna smiles at him, glad that Georgialee agreed to let them take her dog out again.

  When they reach the trail Ryan unclips the dog, and they watch as he gallops ahead. He finds a flat area under some snow-laden trees, drops to his back and wriggles in the powdery snow. When he gets up, he turns to look at them. His tongue is hanging out the side of his mouth, and snow clings to his coat.

  “I swear he’s smiling,” Brenna says.

  “He’s in heaven,” Ryan agrees.

  “Dogs really get it. How to live in the moment.”

  “Yeah.” Ryan turns to Brenna. “Let’s see if we can be like that today too.”

  She tries to smile, and he leans in to kiss her before turning to follow the dog, who is racing ahead.

  Brenna finds it easier than she expected to walk in the snowshoes, and she feels her mood lifting as she stomps along behind Ryan. The air is crisp, clean. The tree branches are rimmed with snow, and the sunlight sparkles off the forest floor. The world feels completely still, with only the squeaking of their snowshoes to disturb the peace. Reality and all its problems seem a million miles away.

  I am the diamond glint upon the snow. This line from the poem read at her mother’s memorial service bubbles to the surface of her mind. Is her mother really here?

  “I want us to do something special on our last night together,” Ryan says. They’ve reached the lookout after snowshoeing for an hour. Ryan has brushed the snow off a log, and they’ve removed their snowshoes. He passes her a sandwich.

  “Do you have any ideas?” Brenna asks. She doesn’t want to think about his last night yet.

  “I’m not sure, but I think we should be on Grouse Mountain, because that’s where we met.”

  Brenna leans into him. The enormous sadness in the pit of her stomach stirs. “I guess we could have dinner in the chalet restaurant.”

  “I was thinking that too, as long as we go for a snowshoe first.”

  Brenna takes a bite of her sandwich, then separates the slices of bread to look inside. “What is this?”

  “Vegemite. With lettuce, cheese and tomato.” He takes one big bite, and the remaining half of his sandwich disappears. He reaches in the bag for another one before looking down at her watching him. “Everyone eats it back home. Don’t you like it?”

  “Not sure yet.” She takes another nibble, then reaches for her water bottle to wash down the bitter taste. She rewraps the sandwich in its paper. “I’m not really hungry.”

  Ryan pulls a granola bar out of the backpack. “Here, I’ll trade you my granola bar for your sandwich.”

  As she eats the granola bar, she looks into the sky. Tiny flakes of snow have started to fall again. She sticks out her tongue to catch one.

  “And between now and then…” he says.

  “Yeah?”

  He doesn’t answer but puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her back. They fall onto the snow, and he straddles her. She smiles up at him.

  “You’ve got way too many layers of clothes on,” he says, scanning her body.

  “Same as you,” she says, laughing.

  He lets his weight press into her as he puts his mouth on hers, but after a short time she squirms to get up. “The snow is cold,” she complains. “I think it’s soaking through my jacket.”

  He rolls off her and onto his back, pulling her on top of him. “You won’t hear me complaining about a little snow,” he says.

  She laughs and lets her weight sink into him. She runs her tongue across his lips. “You taste like Vegemite.”

  “And you taste like granola bar.” He draws her lower lip into his mouth.

  “And by the way,” she says between kisses, “I’m not pregnant. Sorry about yesterday. Must have been a little PMS going on.”

  Ryan doesn’t respond; he just keeps kissing her.

/>   Bentley begins to bark from where he’s tied to a low tree branch. Brenna looks up and sees a group of snowshoers arriving at the lookout. It’s their dog that has caught Bentley’s attention. “We’ve got company,” Brenna says, scrambling to get up.

  “Damn,” Ryan says, brushing snow off his pants and reaching for their snowshoes. “I was just getting comfortable.”

  Brenna laughs and repacks their lunch items. “You never finished your sentence,” she reminds him. “Between now and then…”

  “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  She pulls on her mitts and unties Bentley. They nod to the people who are now marveling at the view and start their stomp back across the mountain.

  Ryan drains the lasagna noodles in the sink. He has come over to Brenna’s house on Monday night to help her prepare for Tuesday night’s dinner with Angie. She won’t have time to make anything after school and dog walking, so she’s preparing ahead.

  “I’m a little nervous about having Angie over,” she says. “What if Dad’s right? What if opening a can of worms turns out to be a bad thing?”

  “Some worms turn into beautiful butterflies.”

  Brenna hip-checks him. “You know that’s not what they mean.”

  “Who is they?”

  “I don’t know. Whoever made up that saying.”

  He grabs a wooden spoon that is lying on the counter and lightly smacks her on the butt.

  “Hey!”

  “Hey what! Have you looked at your butt lately?”

  “Don’t be rude.”

  “I’m not. Hiking becomes you.”

  He holds the wooden spoon to his face as if it’s a microphone. He begins to sing to the tune of a Brad Paisley song they both like. “Bren’s everything I ever wanted. She’s so beautiful to me. She teaches me Canadiana, she’s my hiking queen…” He pauses and looks directly into her eyes before finishing very softly, “And I want to take her home with me.”

  “Brad Paisley you’re not,” she says, but she’s smiling. Her eyes shine as she gazes back at him.

  “Maybe I don’t sound like him,” he says, “but the words come straight from my heart.”

  Brenna turns back to the frying pan, not trusting herself to speak.

  Nov. 18

  Maybe those worms really will turn into butterflies. It’s just a matter of perspective. And what beautiful butterflies they could be!

  seventeen

  Grief softens…

  (JOEL ROTHSCHILD, SIGNALS)

  “Nice to meet you, Angie. You look a lot like your sister.”

  Angie reaches out to shake Brenna’s dad’s hand before sinking into a chair in the family room.

  “And you look like Brenna,” Naysa comments after being introduced.

  “Well, that’s a compliment to me,” Angie says, smiling at Naysa, who is slumped on the couch, arms folded across her chest.

  “So how is Kia?” Brenna’s dad asks. “We lost track of her some time ago.”

  “She’s fine now,” Angie answers. “She’s working in Uganda for an organization that cares for children born with AIDS.”

  “Uganda? In Africa?”

  Angie nods.

  Her dad glances sharply at Brenna but, to her relief, doesn’t say anything.

  The room grows quiet. Angie stands to study the family photos that hang on every wall. “I hear she was really lovely. I’m so sorry.” She doesn’t need to say who she is. They all know.

  Naysa stares at her feet, and their dad shifts in his chair. A timer chimes in the kitchen.

  “Dinner is ready,” Brenna says. “Let’s eat.”

  They move to the table and Brenna directs Angie to Joanna’s chair. While her dad and Naysa get seated, she places a green salad on the table. “Help yourselves,” she says. “I’m going to put out the rest of the food.”

  “So I hear you’re in teacher training,” Brenna’s dad says, passing the salad bowl to Angie.

  “I am. I’ll be fully qualified by June, and then I’ll be looking for a position, which is another huge challenge.”

  “Would you be willing to go north, to a smaller community?”

  “Yeah, I think so. For a few years.”

  Yet another person who will leave me, Brenna thinks, serving up plates of cheesy spinach-and-mushroom lasagna.

  “I hear you play piano,” Angie says to Naysa.

  Naysa shrugs. “I used to.” The scowl doesn’t leave her face.

  “Kia played the piano,” Angie continues cheerfully, ignoring Naysa’s sullenness. “My parents tried to get me to take it up too, but I hated practicing. Now I regret not learning it, because I think it would be such a stress buster to pour yourself into music. Just belting it out in the shower or even in my car can change my mood,” she says.

  Brenna notices a flicker of a smile cross Naysa’s face, and her eyes linger on Angie for a moment.

  “And you like to read? Any favorite authors?” Angie asks Naysa.

  Between bites of lasagna Naysa quietly rattles off the names of authors and their books.

  Angie smiles. “Wow, you’re well-read! Those are some of my favorites too.”

  Although Naysa tries to hide it, Brenna can see that she is pleased.

  “Naysa’s a really good writer herself,” their dad says. “She used to share some of her short stories with me.”

  “Do you like to write too, Brenna?”

  Brenna thinks of her journal and her short entries. “Sometimes, but not when it’s a school assignment. I always draw a blank when I have to write an opinion piece or something.”

  “Kia likes to write.”

  “I know. I have the journal she wrote when she was pregnant with me.”

  “That’s right. You mentioned it. I’d love to read it someday.” She looks up from her food. “If you want to share it, of course. And if it’s okay with Kia.”

  “Would you like some more lasagna?” Brenna asks, panicked. She gets up and reaches for the pan. “Or garlic bread?” She definitely doesn’t want to share it, her only connection with her birth mom and the one that was just between the two of them.

  “I’ll have more,” Naysa says.

  Brenna catches her dad’s eye. It’s the first time they have seen Naysa really eat, not just nibble, since her night in the hospital ten days ago.

  The conversation begins to flow more easily as they tuck into second helpings and then the brownies that Brenna pulled out of the freezer earlier. Eventually her dad asks Angie if she’d like some tea. Brenna can see that he is relaxing, enjoying Angie’s company.

  As they drink their tea, Naysa excuses herself to use the bathroom. Her dad pounces on the opportunity. “Brenna said you might consider doing some tutoring or homeschooling with Naysa,” he says to Angie. “Short-term, of course.”

  “I would,” she says.

  “Obviously, Brenna has your contact info,” he says. “Could I call you later, when I’ve talked to Naysa?”

  “Sounds good.” She smiles.

  He nods and changes the subject. Brenna loads the dishwasher, and, to her surprise, Naysa begins washing the pans when she returns to the kitchen.

  The final days leading up to Ryan’s departure take on a surreal quality. Brenna’s dad quits reminding her that school nights are for studying. Ryan picks her up and they usually drive over to the park, where they mostly just sit and hold each other, saying very little. Only once do they go back to his house when his uncle is out for the evening.

  Nov. 25

  How can it feel so good when I’m so miserable?

  There’s a total disconnect between mind and body.

  Naysa is surprisingly receptive to having Angie tutor her—anything not to return to school, Brenna figures—and she finds Angie in their home after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, guiding Naysa through her schoolwork. Angie has contacted each of Naysa’s teachers to determine what she’s missing. One night Brenna is startled to hear piano music coming from the living room. Naysa
’s mood is improving after only a couple of sessions with Angie, while Brenna’s is plummeting with the approach of Ryan’s departure date.

  When Brenna wakes on Saturday morning, the familiar ache in her chest has intensified tenfold. It is Ryan’s last day in Canada. The night before, some of his coworkers had taken him out for pizza, and she’d been invited along. The boys and a few of their girlfriends had kept the mood light, teasing Ryan about some of his moments on the mountain, remembering the practical jokes they’d played on each other. They mimicked his accent and exaggerated his mistakes. There was lots of laughter, and Brenna had struggled to shake her deep sadness, but she’d wished she wasn’t there. It was too hard to play along. She’d gone back to Ryan’s and helped him finish his packing. His uncle was also home, doing his own packing. Ryan had eventually driven her home and promised to be back first thing in the morning so they could spend the entire day together.

  Brenna had suggested they return to Brackendale to view the eagles again, so they leave early and head west, stopping at a little diner at Sunset Marina for breakfast. The silence between them is heavy, as are the clouds that hang over the water, obstructing their view of the Sunshine Coast and the islands. They hold hands for the remainder of the trip, listening to music but not singing along. In Brackendale they walk along the river path, Ryan’s arm draped across Brenna’s shoulders and her arm wrapped around his waist. They watch the eagles perched on branches across the river. Occasionally one swoops low over the water and rises back up with a wriggling salmon clutched in its talons. The number of eagles has increased considerably since their first visit. When they arrive at the bench where they had their picnic the time before, they sit down and wrap their bodies together while absorbing the beauty of the river valley. Brenna inhales deeply and closes her eyes.

  On their way back they stop for lunch at a small diner on the Squamish River, and they arrive at Grouse Mountain in midafternoon. Brenna hasn’t been on the mountain for several weeks, and the clientele has changed. People carrying skis, snowboards and snowshoes crush Brenna into Ryan as the tram fills. She lays her head on his chest, and he wraps his arms around her. As the tram begins its ascent, it quickly becomes engulfed in a thick mist that swirls around it. Brenna remembers the bright blue sky and the fresh breeze on that day late in the summer when she’d returned to “her mother’s mountain” and Ryan had welcomed her back. So much has changed since then, but the ache in her heart feels every bit as heavy.