Sliding On The Edge

by C. Lee McKenzie

  The same smart sass came out of Shawna’s mouth when she answered, and Kay’s fuzzy feeling evaporated. She pointed to the seat belt. Next she’d get a recording and play, “buckle up” every time the girl got in. She may be an AP student, Kay thought, but she doesn’t remember anything she’s told.

  She should warn the girl about Jackie’s call, but maybe Jackie’d forget to call back. Reliable was not an adjective that woman could even spell.

  As they drove up to the house, Kenny came out to meet them and gave Shawna a hand up the front steps. For a moment Kay thought about the ranch without Shawna, but she pushed that thought aside and opened the door for the doctor and his patient.

  “Go into Kay’s office,” Kenny told Shawna. “I’ll get my bag.”

  Kenny’s bag was a magical leather pouch that held dozens of ointments, pills, and bandages. No matter how many things he retrieved from inside it, he could always extract something more. Even the vet borrowed from Kenny’s bag. Kay once asked him how he knew so much about medicine. But she never did again, because his face had shifted into such despair that she instantly regretted her question. How he learned the art of healing didn’t matter anyway.

  “I’ll leave you to your doctoring. I’m going out to see if the gray looks any better after a few hours on this new antibiotic.” Kay walked to the barn and opened the gray’s stall.

  “How’s it going, girl?” Kay took the gray’s head in her lap and gently rubbed the broad forehead. The gray turned her eyes to meet Kay’s. Kay was the love of her life. The person she trusted above all. It was all there in those dark windows that allowed Kay a glimpse into her cherished horse.

  The vet was coming again tomorrow. Kenny said he’d sleep in the barn tonight. She had nothing to worry about, yet she couldn’t hold down the bile that crept into her throat when she thought about the possibility that the gray might not recover.

  “You have to make it, girl. I need you. I need you desperately.” Kay buried her face in the great neck.

  Too many feelings swirled inside her. Jackie’s phone call had brought back the day Nicholas told them he was not going to college. He couldn’t. Jackie needed him. There was a baby on the way.

  “If it’s too late for an abortion, put the baby up for adoption. We’ll help you. We’ll take care of the bills, the arrangements, anything. But please, Nic, go to college!” She heard her words over and over. She watched Nicholas take Jackie’s hand, lead her past his father, and out the back door to his car. She never saw either of them again.

  The gray tossed her head. “Okay, girl. You rest. I’ll be back to check on you.”

  Kenny passed her on his way to his trailer. “Missy will live,” he said. “How’s the mare?”

  “No change.”

  Kenny nodded and walked on. After a few steps he called to her. “Call came.”

  Kay waved over her shoulder without looking back at him. She went inside and down the hall to her office, where she leaned against the door, watching Shawna, who sat staring at the receiver in her hand.

  “I see you got your call. She called earlier and I told her you’d be here about this time.” Kay walked to the desk. “How’s the toe?”

  She wanted to talk about something else, yet she needed to know what Jackie wanted. She sat on the couch, trying to look interested rather than anxious. “So what does she want?”

  She knew the answer before Shawna said a word. Back to Las Vegas and that hell Jackie called a life. No! She wanted to scream. You can’t go back. You belong here.

  “She sounded... lonely, I guess,” Shawna said. An expression of longing flitted across her face.

  An emotion other than anger, Kay thought with surprise. Maybe I’m wrong in trying to keep her here. Maybe she should be with her mother.

  “Yes, I’d imagine she did.” Kay couldn’t stay in the room another minute. “I’ll go and start dinner.” She ran out the back door and hid in the barn with the gray until she’d cried it out, feeling somewhat better prepared to fry chicken without self-destructing in the process.

  Chapter 30

  Shawna

  I hate Sundays like I hate big snakes with fangs. I hate Mondays like any kind of snake, so what’s to choose? Today’s not going to be easy. My foot feels like it’s in a bucket.

  When Kay drops me off at the front entrance, she looks worried. “Shawna are you sure you can walk on that foot today?”

  “It’s fine.” I’m lying, but I don’t want to stay on the ranch, watching the minute hands on the kitchen clock all day. I limp up the steps and go inside.

  Casey is coming down the hall, so I duck into the girls’ restroom. No way am I letting him see me, now that I’m old limp-along. When I’m sure Casey’s gone, I make my way to class. There I get lots of stares but no sympathy, except from Mrs. Heady, and I can do without hers.

  The Troll, aka Marta, smiles when I make it to my seat at the back of the room. I don’t snarl at her, but I don’t smile back, either. At least she doesn’t smell today. Maybe she got the hint about the high correlation between her B.O. and her lack of popularity with me.

  I can do Mrs. Heady’s assignment without breaking a sweat, so I finish in a flash and bury my head under my arms. Naps help Mondays go faster.

  “Psst!”

  What sounds like a leaky gas pipe turns out to be Marta.

  I roll my head to the side and glare at her.

  “Here, take this,” she whispers.

  She’s holding a folded piece of paper out to me across the aisle.

  I sigh and snatch it from her hand. What’s she up to now? Please tell me she doesn’t want to bond.

  The note reads, “My mom says I can have a sleepover next weekend. Can you come?”

  Oh, gawd! It’s an invitation to sleep with The Troll. Now what? I know Mondays are the worst, but this is the grimmest in history. Just bring on the snakes and get it over with.

  “I’ll think about it,” I whisper. And I’m not sure I’m hearing myself correctly. What’s to think about?

  When school’s over, it’s a major relief to see Kay’s beat up old truck pull to a stop in front of the school. Buster’s in back, yapping and shaking himself like a berserk windup toy. I double-quick-hobble to the curb and hoist myself inside.

  “How’s the toe,” Kay asks.

  “Whaddya think? It still hurts.”

  “We’ll check it when we get home. Toes mend fast, especially when Kenny tends to them.” She points at the seat belt.

  Right.

  We jostle home, and I mark off another day at Sweet River High. How many hundreds are left, anyway? Who knows?

  As “Dr. Fargo” kneels to unwind the bandage around my big toe, I grip the chair in Kay’s office, which doubles as our family clinic. But he doesn’t hurt me, and when I look, the swelling is down and the toe looks pretty much the same shape as it did before I Karate-kicked the fence post.

  “Looks like we won’t have to amputate.” Kenny smiles up at me. “Stick your foot in this tub and keep it there for ten minutes. I’ll be back.”

  So now I’m stuck behind Kay’s command central desk, with my foot in a tub of water. Does life get any better?

  The sharp sound of the phone on Kay’s desk sends a lightning jolt right through me. I lift the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Shawna. It’s me... Mom.” Her voice fills my right ear, and I instantly get the shakes.

  She actually called herself, Mom. That means she’s alone.

  “How are you, honey?... Shawna?... You there, Baby?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Well, look. I’m back in Vegas. That thing with Dylan didn’t work out.” She clears her throat. “I’m really missing you, Sweetie. I need you to come on back. I really mean that. We can find a place together and it’ll be like old times!”

  I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it. I wonder how she’d look if she were really tucked inside that plastic case, wound in and out of all the pieces connecting sound
between Las Vegas and Sweet River.

  “Shawna? What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you taking, like, forever to answer me?”

  “I’m thinking, Mom.”

  Her sigh travels the miles, down the dark Vegas alleys, across the flat desert, winding up through the center of California, where it washes over me.

  I lay my cheek on Kay’s desk and feel the cool wood against it. I’ll disappear inside the dark thick-grained surface, where nobody will ever find me. But I’ll stare up at the ceiling, feeling the pressure of Kay’s hands, as she writes letters and leans on me for balance. I’ll see the world from a safe place, from a place that’s only for me.

  “Fuck, Shawna. How come you have to give something like this so much thought? You and me make a team, right?”

  “What, are you broke?”

  Now it’s her end that goes quiet.

  I can wait for her to come up with an answer. I’ve waited before, sometimes I’ve waited all night, for more important reasons than a yes or a no.

  That night she brought Dylan home the first time, that was a hundred years of waiting. I was zonked out, nested inside my sheets on Tuan’s roll-away bed, when a voice whispered in my ear. “Hey, come on baby, your big sister’s passed out and I’m lonely.”

  My big sister? I’m dreaming, right? So I rolled over and punched my pillow. That’s when his wormy fingers slid under my belly and down my leg.

  “What in the . . .!” I was up and standing before he could get off his knees by the bed. “I gotta pee. I’ll be right back.”

  He sprawled across my roll-way and I staggered to the bathroom.

  Click. Door locked.

  I realized my mistake too late. No dry towels and only one skimpy bathmat. I pushed the mat into the corner and curled up with my legs tucked against my chest. Talk about misery! And my big sister didn’t haul herself out of bed to pee until two o’clock in the morning.

  “Look.” Mom’s phone voice cuts through the memory of that night on the bathroom floor. “Here’s a number you can call me at. I’m around after noon and before ten. You know me, Shawna, that’s still kinda my schedule.” She makes a noise that passes for a laugh. “Got a pencil?”

  “Yes.” I pick up a pencil and write the number.

  “Okay, hon, I gotta go. You call me, okay? Shawna?”

  “I’ll call you.”

  The phone hums. She’s gone.

  “I see you got your call.” Kay is standing in the doorway. “She phoned earlier and I told her you’d be here about this time.” She walks to the desk. “How’s the toe?”

  “Kenny says I can keep it on the foot.”

  “That Kenny! Makes things light, doesn’t he?” Kay sits on the couch opposite the desk. “So what does she want?”

  I’ll bet Kay knows the answer to that question already. She’s mining for information just like that principal. They’re like a pair of cops. Well, give the answer anyway. Play her game. “She wants me to go back to Vegas. Her boyfriend is out of the picture.”

  “I see.”

  I see? Look at Kay’s face. She doesn’t see anything. “She sounded... I guess, lonely.”

  “Yes. I imagine she did.” Kay stands. “I’ll go and start dinner.”

  And she’s gone, just like that! She can’t wait to pack me into the truck and drive me back to the bus station. Good. Fine. Great. The sooner I’m out of here, the better. I can forget all this Sweet River crap and get back to where I belong.

  Chapter 31

  Kay

  Wednesday, and the appointment with the therapist, at first came too slowly, and then it came too soon. Kay stood at her closet, looking for something to wear—something not made of denim.

  Would Shawna meet her on time in front of the school? Would she cooperate during the session? Would the session make a positive difference? In two hours, three people were coming together to sort out several things that terrified Kay. Life and death; Shawna and herself.

  Kay chose the black suit from the two she still kept for the occasional funeral or wedding, or that rare trip to Sacramento, when she needed to see a ballet. She unzipped the garment bag she’d hung it in a year ago. There weren’t that many weddings anymore and, thank heaven, the funerals had tapered off as well. When she lost her enthusiasm for seeing the ballet alone, the black suits worked their way into the recesses of her closet.

  She glanced at her watch: 2:15 P.M. She’d made the counseling appointment for 4:30 P.M., and Shawna promised to meet her in front of the school at 3:00 P.M.

  Beyond that, Shawna hadn’t promised anything, especially cooperation.

  Kay showered, dressed, and brushed her dark hair into a sleek mane at the nape of her neck, where she caught it in a burnished gold clasp. Gray strands threaded their way alongside her temples, but, like her mother’s and grandmother’s, her hair still looked like a forty-year-old’s. She touched the skin under her eyes, which told a different story.

  “Too much sun,” she said to her image. “Grandmother warned you, but did you listen?” She quickly daubed creamy lotion from a sample jar that some chirpy clerk had thrust into her hand one day at Drugs For Less. “Maybe I should get more of this stuff.”

  “Are you ready?” Kenny called from outside.

  She wriggled her feet into the black heels she’d set by the bed, and felt her toes pinch tight against each other. “Ugh.” Her feet couldn’t still be growing. She opened her bedroom door and replied, “Coming.”

  Kenny met her on the front porch. “My. My. My. We do look fine.”

  “So, do I look like I’m on the way to analysis?”

  “Nope. But it don’t matter how you look. It matters how you feel.”

  “Does stressed give you some idea?” Kay wanted to shove her hands into her pockets, but she didn’t have any.

  “You got a filly that needs help, and you’re giving her the only help you know how. Too bad she ain’t truly a horse. Then we’d both know what to do, no question.”

  “Right.” Kay heaved a sigh. “So you washed the truck, I see.”

  Kenny had driven the truck up to the front of the house, trailing drips of water down the driveway. It didn’t shine, but the dust was gone and the windshield glinted in the late afternoon sun.

  “It’ll get you there and back. It’s got gas and the keys are in it.” Kenny walked down the steps then stopped and looked at her. “Try smiling when you pick her up. You’re not taking her to her hanging, you know.”

  No. Not to hers, Kay thought, but maybe to mine, as she walked to the truck and climbed in.

  Shawna kept her promise. She was waiting on the curb when Kay drove up. She climbed in and pulled the door closed. “Wow! Who did the number on Mr. Bumpy, here?”

  Kay’s sour answer was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She wished that just once she could say what she wanted to say. Exactly who was pushing whom away in this relationship? “Kenny did his best to make it look good.” She attempted to sound positive, but the words came out flat.

  That was as close to opening a conversation as she could manage. Then Shawna said nothing more, and Kay was too nervous to think about anything except the appointment they were about to keep.

  “Seat belt.”

  The trip to Sacramento seemed to take hours. Kay worried that she’d never make it on time, even though she was traveling against the commuter traffic. Why did everyone in California suddenly decide this hot-as-hell-in-the-summer place was the only one to live in? Every time she drove this freeway, more earth disappeared and more mini-malls sprang up.

  She took the T-Street turnoff and followed the directions from the therapist’s secretary. After a few quick turns, she pulled into the underground parking with her heart racing.

  She stepped from the truck, followed the arrows to the elevator, and pressed the button. Her hand shook.

  “You okay?” Shawna asked.

  “No. I’m not.” How could she be okay? How could anybody be okay when they were about to
meet a stranger, tell her all their secrets, and reveal the failure behind the bad decisions made over a lifetime.

  Stop, Kay. You’re not revealing anything. You’re offering up your last child in the hopes that you can undo a few of those bad decisions, while there’s still time.

  They stepped into the elevator, and it took them to the sixth floor without the stop that Kay kept hoping for. Delay was on her mind, postponement in her heart.

  But the receptionist had other ideas. “Dr. Lubell asked that you come right in.” She led them to a double oak door, knocked, and ushered them inside. “Mrs. Stone and Shawna Stone,” she said, before closing the door softly behind her.

  Chapter 32

  Shawna

  By Wednesday, Casey is avoiding me as much as I’m avoiding him. Good.

  He’s coming down the hall now. I stare straight ahead, walking directly toward my locker. As we pass, he’s talking with somebody, too busy to look in my direction. Good again. I’m still lame, so I don’t need him laughing at me, the idiot who kicks posts. I don’t need any more of his preachy, “tucked–under-my heart” crap. Besides, I’ve got to think over how I’m going to handle that appointment with the shrink.

  I should have rehearsed in front of the mirror to get my face to match my answers. My grandmother is a wonderful woman. I’m just a little upset about my mom, but I’m managing, coping, recovering. Hmm. Maybe adjusting. That’s a good shrink word. I really don’t know why Mr. Green thinks I have a problem. I’m getting used to... adjusted... to a very different way of living, you know?

  “Hi, Shawna!”

  Arrrg. Marta is right behind me.

  “Did you ask your grandmother about the sleepover?”

  “Umm, not yet.” I twirl my lock and pop the door open.

  “You’re not even thinking about asking her, right?”

  “What’s with you? Why do you think you can read my mind?” I slam my locker and face her. “What time should I be there?”

  “You’re coming?”

  “Not unless you tell me when to show up. I don’t read minds like you do.”

  “It’s Saturday at seven. Mom’s getting us something to eat, like pizza, I guess. So far, there’re just four of us.”

  I hadn’t thought about the possibility that other girls would be at her house. I’m not sure I can handle two more girls in that one room of hers. Besides, I don’t like sleeping in front of people I don’t know. “Who else?”