Samantha smacked the back of Fi’s head on her way out with a passing, “Loser!” added just for good measure. Once they passed, Lisa urged Fi to get off and she followed.
“C’mon” she said and waved. They hurried to catch up so that they were walking just behind the ‘cool’ group. Lisa took the giant wad of gum from her mouth and dropped the entire thing into Samantha’s open purse and then pretended to trip, knocking into her and making certain that the gum was good and squished inside the bag.
“What the hell?” Samantha spun around, her face creased in annoyance. “Look where you’re going Lisa!” Lisa shrugged her shoulders as if to say, ‘Sorry, it was an accident.’ Samantha huffed and walked away. Lisa spun around and sauntered back to where Fi stood in shock. She couldn’t tell whether she was scared or thrilled, but her heart was racing either way.
“Why did you do that?” Fi whispered.
Lisa winked and patted her shoulder and then started to walk away. “Because you’re a good egg, Fi. Plus,” she laughed over her shoulder as she kept walking. “It was fun.”
A second later a bloodcurdling shriek rose from the far end of the hallway. Fi stifled a laugh and hurried to class as her heart leapt with a tiny sense of justice. That was fantastic! No wonder no one messed with Lisa. She wished she were that brave.
Haunted
----------- Fi -----------
Fi lay in bed on her back trying to use her trick of imagining pretty dresses to help keep her mind occupied. It was soothing when she was stressed, focusing on sashes and belts, buttons and zippers, fabrics and forms….
Her mind flew back to when her little brother Luke had gotten Sick. She’d been too young to understand what ‘brain cancer’ meant, but it hadn’t taken her long to figure out that it was bad news. Once she had spoken with the Chaplain at Luke’s hospital and admitted that she couldn’t sleep. The Chaplain had been kind, with beautiful short white hair and a sweet smile. Her name had been Jane, and she’d listened to all Fi’s troubles and held her hand.
Jane had said, “Fi, tell me something you really like,” and Fi had closed her eyes in thought.
“Pretty dresses,” she decided.
Chaplain Jane laughed a little and nodded. “Perfect. Now Fi, the next time you’re awake in bed and you feel scared and worried and your heart hurts, I want you to close your eyes and start thinking about pretty dresses, ok? Let’s try it now together, right here.”
Fi remembered how kind her voice had been. Jane had Fi close her eyes and start telling her all about a dress she would like to wear. As she began to describe the puffed sleeves and rosy color of the dress in her mind, she realized that it did make her feel better to think of something else…something good.
And so she did it to this day. Whenever she had been unable to sleep, saddened by memories of Luke, or worried about the normal everyday life of a growing girl, she had turned to her pretty dresses. This past week was the first time that she could remember in years that this pastime, this coping skill, was not working for her. No matter how much she tried to turn her focus back to the image of a dress, in her mind it kept creeping back downstairs, to the kitchen table, to the exact time and place when Papa and Mama had given voice to her fears.
At nearly fourteen, Fi was older and less innocent than she’d been when Luke had passed. She had seen that her father was not well, had noticed that he’d grown weaker and sicker over time. In fact, she had been worried about it for months now. When she came home from school and found both her parents waiting for her at the kitchen table, her heart had stopped. Why it mattered so much to say it out loud when nothing would change, she didn’t know. But it did matter.
The kitchen had been warm and bright, lit with the orange glow of September sunset, the western light streaming through the blinds and sparkling off the edges of their cut glass kitchen lamp. The wooden counters gleamed and Fi could smell the comforting aroma of a slow-cooked roast, Maggie’s favorite when it grew cool outside. Her parents were calm, seated at the table with their hands clasped together. Maggie’s thumb lovingly stroked the back of her father’s hand. How could it be, Fi thought angrily, that such bad news could be given in such a beautiful, warm place?
They did not need to wave her over. She’d dropped her backpack and walked slowly to the table, sitting down opposite them both. She remembered how she had tried not to look into their eyes. She wanted so badly not to cry. But the tears had welled up and her throat tightened anyway. Too late, she’d thought, too late.
Maggie had tried to explain. “Fi,” she’d started and then stopped. “Your father and I…”
“What is it?” Fi had interrupted. She couldn’t bear to dance around it. “Just tell me.” Maggie nodded and took a deep breath. Her voice came out tight and flat.
“It’s pancreatic cancer.”
Fi had heard all kinds of description for heartbreak, but she’d never really known it until that exact moment. Her heart had sunk through the floor, falling, burning, burrowing down through the layers of the Earth until it reached the middle and was crushed. Pancreatic cancer? Despite desperately wanting to maintain her control, she had broken completely. There was no way to pretend, there was no hope at all. The three of them had all cried together while Fi had silently raged at the burden, at the unfairness. Her heart ached for them all. Once they had all recovered from tears, which Fi had learned long ago do not last forever, they had talked about how to handle telling Kiara. Mike’s doctors believed that he was on the verge of serious deterioration and he’d opted not to go through treatment after discussing it with Maggie.
“In other words,” Fi had said, frustrated, “We can’t keep this from Kiara.”
Maggie shook her head gently. “Your father will likely need hospital support by year’s end.” Fi had choked at this and Maggie had tried to comfort her, “They’ll be able to make sure he is comfortable.”
Fi had nodded, her stomach in knots. ‘Comfortable’, she thought. What a sick joke. She’d been exactly six years old, the same age that Kiara was now, when Luke passed. She remembered it all vividly. His sickness and listlessness, his treatment, the hospital, his strawberry blonde curls falling out. She would give anything to protect Kiara from that, but she was not being given that option. Now, being older, she realized exactly how hard it had been for Maggie and Mike to expose her to that agony when she was six. All bad choices, she’d thought, bad choices. But what she’d really realized was that there was only one choice.
She’d looked her parents straight in the eye, and with a firm voice declared, “I think we have to just tell her…and I have to be the one to do it.”
Maggie had been surprised. She had actually physically backed away, while Mike had seemed suddenly interested. He’d cocked his head and peered at her, his gaze intense.
“I’ll sit her down and tell her as much as I can without hurting her,” she’d added. “I remember what I needed to know at that age.” Though she’d known that they would protest, she also knew that they would eventually acquiesce. They knew that she was right. In this case, she was the one most qualified for the job.
That afternoon Fi sat Kiara down and told her the simple truths. It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Kiara already knew a bit about Luke, so Fi started there. When she was done, she was sure that Kiara understood that their Papa was sick, that he was going to change and get tired, and that someday soon he was going to leave them and not come back. It was all Fi had been able to understand when she was six and it was pretty much all she understood to this day. Watching Kiara’s violet eyes widen and then settle into a sad, frightened frown as they talked had twisted Fi’s heart into knots. It was official. Kiara was no longer a child. Fi had made a personal vow that day to do everything she could to protect Kiara, to keep her happy, to make her smile.
Just then, there was a light knock at her bedroom door. Fi stirred, the memories fading away.
“Hey baby,” she smiled as Kiara poked her head through th
e door. “Do you want to hang out with me?” Kiara nodded and hopped onto Fi’s bed.
“Hmmmmm, what does Kiara want to do?” Fi teased. “I’m going to guess play hairdresser!” Feeling the need to create an upbeat air, Fi added a fake, light laugh. She understood that playing ‘hairdresser’ was Kiara’s equivalent of ‘pretty dresses’, that she needed the distraction…that they both needed it.
Kiara nodded. “Yes, please!”
“Ok then,” Fi said, stroking Kiara’s long dark waves. “Do you want to be the stylist or the customer?”
“Customer!” Kiara bounced up and down and Fi laughed. She had already reached behind her for her old plastic bin of hair things. She pulled out her brush and started parting Kiara’s hair in the middle and piecing it out. She brushed the hair softly and carefully with a sigh. Brushing out Kiara’s hair always relaxed her, plus it made Kiara so happy.
“I’m guessing you would like some braids again missy?”
“Yes, please!” Kiara clapped her hands.
“You got it!” Fi reached behind her to turn up the Internet radio and then rummaged in her bin for elastics. She grabbed a few and pulled them onto her wrist. Fi divided Kiara’s hair and began winding it into a braid, her fingers separating and weaving all the pieces expertly. Fi was a champion braider. She had braided and fishtailed her own hair every way possible and braided dolls’, friends’, and Kiara’s hair as well. Sometimes even Maggie let her braid her hair. She and Kiara sang along to the radio while she wound a perfect braid into Kiara’s hair, starting at her scalp and moving along the part straight toward the back of her head. The song ended and the radio went to a commercial. Fi reached back and touched to turn it down. She hated the loud, shouting commercials.
“Fi?”
“Hmmm?”
“What was Luke like?” Kiara’s voice was quiet.
Fi froze for a second and felt her heart squeeze. Of course she would ask eventually, she thought as she recovered her focus and continued her braiding. It really shows what a kind little girl Kiara is, she thought, that she asked me and not Maggie. Even at her young age Kiara somehow knew that talking about Luke would hurt Maggie. Still, Fi realized, she has a right to know. It’s time. She took a deep, wavering breath.
“He was delightful.” She turned Kiara’s chin to meet her gaze and smiled, reassuring her, “I’m glad you asked me.” Kiara’s eyes remained nervous, but she managed a small smile in return. Fi turned Kiara’s head forward again so that she could finish her braid and continued. The fluttering feeling in her stomach began to go away as she talked.
“He was like any other fat, healthy baby,” Fi began. “He had a beautiful, round face and deep blue eyes like Mama’s, and yours. Strawberry blonde wispy curls,” she laughed, remembering. “He was like an angel baby. He slept through the night. I was too young to realize how important that was, but Mama always told me that about him.” She slipped an elastic band off her wrist and wrapped it around Kiara’s first finished braid. “He was the type of baby who was mostly mellow and quiet, but sometimes cooing and laughing. When he got older, we realized that he loved art just like Mama.”
She brushed her own hair back with her hands and then starting piecing another braid. She shifted on the bed to get a better angle. “He always loved to watch Mama paint and draw and he loved to paint and draw himself. Many babies do, but with Luke that was like the only thing he really loved. He was always at his little plastic picnic table in the backyard, coloring and painting…himself mostly,” she chuckled. “You know,” Fi stopped, a sudden thought interrupting her. “Mama has a drawer with a bunch of his drawings and paintings. I can show them to you sometime if you’d like to see them.”
She met Kiara’s troubled eyes in the mirror above her dresser. So thoughtful for such a young child, Fi thought with a heavy heart. It might as well be her just a few years ago.
Kiara nodded. “Was it very hard for Mama?” she paused. “When he died?” she added, as if there could be any other meaning.
“Of course it was,” Fi said. She felt her chest squeeze as she fought to keep her tone level. There was no reason not to be honest. Kiara would feel it soon enough. “It was very hard for us all.” She reached for another elastic around her wrist and wrapped the second braid. “To be honest,” she admitted, “It still is. I still miss him terribly and I think we always will.”
She handed Kiara her hand mirror and Kiara slid off the bed to walk to the big mirror. She held up the hand mirror to look at the sides and back of her new hairstyle. Her smile melted Fi’s heart and twisted her stomach at the same time. Anger fluttered in her chest for a moment as she thought of what was to come. What Kiara was going to see and feel. But as soon as it flared, the anger melted away into a hollow ache of sadness. How she wished that Kiara could be spared. She felt the telltale prick of tears at the back of her eyes.
“Look at it this way Kiara,” Fi added. “I love you so much I can’t imagine loving someone more. If anything happened to you I would be totally devastated, but my love…well, my love wouldn’t have anywhere to go.” She gestured for Kiara to come back to the bed and then folded her small frame into her arms. She fought off her own tears as she watched them crawl down Kiara’s soft cheeks. Bowing her head, Fi nestled her face against Kiara’s soft neck.
“Love is like water,” Fi murmured, “You can’t squish it down and make it any smaller. No matter how you squeeze it,” she held Kiara close as her chest tightened. “It just keeps busting out. So when you lose someone, you don’t lose the love. It stays with you just as big in your heart as it always was. We may want the ache to go away, but we can’t give up the love. So you live with both.” She paused and met Kiara’s eyes in the mirror. Her face was red and wet with tears. “Do you understand?” she choked and Kiara nodded. The crazy thing was, even as young as she was, Fi was sure that Kiara did understand what she meant.
She kissed the little girl’s head. “You look beautiful honey. Do you love it?” She held the hand mirror up so Kiara could see both sides of her new hairstyle.
“Yes!” Kiara breathed, wiping away her tears. “It’s like Tiana!” Fi smiled. This was Kiara’s highest compliment, her favorite movie princess. Kiara slid down from the bed to go back to her own room. When she opened the door, she turned back.
“Fi?” Her voice wobbled. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”
Fi nodded, wiping her face with the back of her hand and sniffing. “Of course, baby girl. Of course you can.” She paused and tilted her head, “Hey, have I ever taught you the ‘Unicorn Song’?” Kiara thought about it and then shook her head.
Fi smiled. “Oh, that is a good one, you will like it sweetie. Let’s get you in your jammies first…”
Confession
----------- Fi -----------
“Fionnuala Marie?” He always called her by her full name as a pet name. It was a funny irony…most parents used full names when they were angry. He’d been using her full name a lot lately and every time he said it her heart squeezed a little tighter because he wouldn’t be saying it to her forever.
“Yes Papa?” Fi perched on a vinyl chair next to her father’s hospital bed as she had every afternoon and night for the two weeks since he’d entered the hospital. It was all happening so fast, she thought, blending together into one horrible, inescapable tragedy. She just couldn’t believe that she was stuck in this nightmare again. After Luke, she assumed that was it, that his death was her life’s tragedy, her big story of sadness. No one could possibly be asked to handle more. She hadn’t wanted to see it. ‘No, no, no,’ seemed to be the constant drumbeat in her head. No. No. No.…it drummed all day and all night as she tossed in her bed. No. Her beloved father, her Papa, was Sick.
Now he gestured to her in the quiet room, the constant beep of his machines sounding an affirmative counterpoint to the ever-present thump of ‘No’ inside Fi’s head. He waved his thin, shaking hand, his face and body gaunt, his hair fine. The reality was upon her now,
she knew. His eyes were sunken, but Fi saw that the spark of her father still burned in their depths. She kept her gaze on his eyes and smiled encouragingly.
“I have to talk to you about something very important,” he said, struggling to sit up. “I wish we had more time, but I realize now that we don’t.” He cursed as he tried to move his tubes and blankets.
“What is it Papa?” Fi asked, concerned. “Wait”, she said as she used the switch to prop up the adjustable bed. She patted his hand, being careful of the IV attachment, and adjusted his blankets to cover his thin, papery arms. Suddenly, he shook his head and put his right index finger over his mouth in a gesture of silence and pointed behind her. Maggie was coming back into the room.
Fi whirled back to her father, her brows knitted. What could he possibly have to talk to her about that he couldn’t say in front of Maggie?
“Margaret?” Her father said in a funny voice. “Is there any way you’d let me keep this little nipper overnight?” He pointed to Fi. “Pleeeeeeease?” he pled like a child who wants a cookie. Fi laughed and clapped her hands. What a good idea! She would love to stay with Papa overnight. “I can have the nurse bring a cot and blanket and then you can have John pick her up for school in the morning,” he added.
“Yes Mama, pleeeeease,” Fi begged. Maggie’s eyes went back and forth between the two and she let out a weary laugh.
“Alright,” she agreed, “alright. Of course Fi can spend the night.” She gave Fi a serious look. “No skipping school tomorrow though!” Fi nodded. “And no exhausting your father keeping him up all night talking, ok?” Fi nodded again.
“Ok,” Maggie said and turned to the sleeping bundle that was Kiara in the soft plastic corner chair. “Now I have to get this one home to bed,” she grunted as she slipped her arms beneath Kiara and lifted. “Ooooh my goodness, she is getting too big for this,” she muttered, with a wry smile. “Or I am getting too old.” She hoisted the limp Kiara onto her hip and walked toward the door. She turned back in the doorway. For a split second Fi saw the agony cross her mother’s face and her own stomach wrenched. How much Maggie would like to be the one to stay here, to curl up next to her husband in the bed and sing to him, brushing his hair as she did when the girls were sick. “Have a good night you two,” Maggie smiled and slipped out the door. Fi took a deep, shaky breath and pasted a smile on her face.
Eden's Root Page 2
