Falling Up

by Melody Carlson

  “I haven't seen any alligators yet,” I ventured as we began to eat.

  “I should hope not,” said Grandma as she passed the “greens.” I still wasn't too sure what they were, but I took a cautious serving.

  “The gators don't come up here,” said Uncle Garth.

  “That's right,” said Grandma. “They stick dose to the water.”

  “Where's that?” For some reason it seemed important to establish where these alligators actually lived, Especially before I went to bed tonight. I didn't want to lie there imagining an alligator slithering into the house uninvited.

  “It's about half a mile away,” said Grandma. “Too far for me to walk with these feet of mine. But I take out Old Nellie, and we get there just fine.”

  “Old Nellie?” I couldn't quite imagine my grandma on a horse.

  “A golf cart,” said Uncle Garth. “Mom's wheels.”

  “Oh.”

  “We've got lots of wheels ‘round here,” said Grandma. “If you get a hankering to take a drive, you can have your pick, Kimmy.”

  I wasn't sure that I wanted to drive that big Cadillac just yet, but maybe if I got desperate enough.

  I offered to dean up after dinner, and Grandma didn't protest. Of course, I quickly learned that she doesn't have any conveniences like a dishwasher or garbage disposal. But she sat in her chair with her feet propped up and explained the workings of her old-fashioned kitchen.

  “Don't put those chicken scraps in the compost bucket,” she said.

  “The garbage then?” I called back.

  “Well, uh, I guess so.”

  So I dropped them in the garbage can under the sink, but I noticed that she retrieved them later, putting them into a recycled plastic sack in the bottom of the refrigerator, so I'm guessing she hasn't given up her illegal activities just yet.

  “I usually don't turn in quite this early,” she told me as she started hobbling off to her bedroom. “But I reckon I'm a little worn out. I hope you don't mind, Kimmy.”

  “Of course not. I've got some things to keep me busy.”

  So after she went to bed, I took my laptop out to the porch to see if I could get any wireless service. But even after trying it from every angle, it just wasn't connecting. And because it was dark and I was still feeling uneasy about the alligator population, I decided not to venture out.

  I just sat on the screened porch for a while, listening to the weird sounds all around me. I'm guessing it was frogs and crickets, and well, I'm not entirely sure. I wished I could go online and find out what kind of animals live in these parts, because I got to thinking that besides alligators, which still unnerve me, there could also be snakes and who knows what else.

  I also wished I could go online to communicate with my dad. I really wanted to talk to him. I even turned on my cell phone, thinking one expensive call might be worth it, but it, too, had no connection. Talk about feeling isolated. Its like I was all alone on some deserted island. I even considered using my grandma's phone but didn't want to do it without asking first.

  Finally, I felt too spooked to be out on the porch by myself. I imagined big spiders or other insects crawling around in the darkness, and I knew I needed to get inside the house before I really started to panic. I turned off the one light in the living room and instantly wished I hadn't. Now the entire house was pitch-black. I felt along the wall to the hallway and finally to my room and was so relieved to turn on a light again.

  This room used to be Uncle Garth's, my grandma told me earlier. “Now I mostly use it to store my seashell collection.” The wood-paneled walls of this tiny room are painted in sky blue, and pine shelves (made by my uncle) filled with hundreds of seashells hang on most of the walls. It's really kind of cool looking, in a funky way.

  Other than that, there is a twin-sized bed with a metal headboard painted white. The bed is topped with a faded patchwork quilt—”a crazy quilt,” Grandma explained. “My mother made it for me when I was about twelve. Some of these scraps came from dresses I wore when I was a Me girl.” There's also a small pine dresser right next to the bed, a painted wooden chair, a tiny doset, and a window with a white curtain trimmed in lace.

  At first I wasn't too impressed with the room, but it started to grow on me as I quietly put my things away and did a quick spider and bug check. I even checked the window screen to make sure it was secure, since Grandma informed me that the only way to cool the house is to have the windows open at night. Finally, I was satisfied. I sat on the slightly squeaky bed and was surprised to see that it wasn't even ten o'clock yet. And I was not the least bit tired.

  I was desperately trying not to think about Natalie, trying to block out what she intended to do tomorrow. Just the thought of her at the Haven Women's Clinic made me feel physically ill. It's overwhelming. Frightening. I tried to pray for her, and I even asked God to stop her from this foolishness, but the words felt stilted and false. Not nearly as sincere as Uncle Garth's simple blessing at dinner. Could I be losing my faith?

  Finally, I could tell I was obsessing and getting so wound up that I'd never be able to go to sleep tonight. So when I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I also took one of the antianxiety pills. I hoped it would work.

  Then I decided to answer some letters for my column, just until I got sleepy Maybe it would take my mind off of Natalie.

  Dear Jamie,

  I really want to get a job this summer, but every place I apply at says I don't have any experience. But how do I get experience if no one will hire me? My best friend says I should just make something up, something that can't be traced. Do you think that's wrong? And if it's wrong, how do I get someone to hire me so I can get some experience?

  No Experience

  Dear NE,

  I don't think you should lie about job experience. First of all, that would compromise your personal integrity but besides that your employer might find out and you could have even more trouble finding another job. But maybe you have some kind of job experience that you've overlooked. Have you ever babysat done yard work or housework, had a paper route? Have you volunteered? All those things could be considered “experience.” And if you haven't done those things, maybe you should consider it so you will have experience. Or else just keep applying, but be honest. And before you know it you'll be working and probably wishing for a vacation.

  Just Jamie

  Of course, I think that's kind of funny since I now find myself on a somewhat unwanted “vacation” and was almost wishing I was working instead. I remembered the job I had at the mau last summer, and while I complained about it, I did like the routine as well as the extra money. But then this column is an even better job. And who knows where it might lead? Now if I could only go to sleep.

  Fifteen

  Thursday, June 13

  Talk about antsy. I was a basket case for most of the day yesterday. I tried to appear interested in Grandma s little golf cart tour that eventually took us to the slough where she proceeded to toss out chicken scraps for her gators.

  “This is the wrong time of day,” she informed me. “But if we come back later, just after suppertime, we'll probably see Bill and Gloria. And maybe even Mr. Farley, although he's usually late—which is why I named him after my postman.”

  After that, Uncle Garth took me bird-watching. And I actually took some photos and tried to appear interested, but all I could think about was Natalie. I kept looking at my watch and trying to figure the time change. Had she gone into Haven? Had she had the abortion? Could there have been any complications? And even if it had gone smoothly in a medical sense, would her heart ever get over this? Would she be scarred for ßfe?

  I kept wishing I'd never come here and that I was home where I could do something. Sure, life felt stressful there and I was sort of falling apart. But really, which is worse? Worrying about a friend when you're right by her side, or when you're a whole world apart? And it literally feels like I'm in another world. Not just because it's totally different than wh
at I'm used to, but because I feel so disconnected. No matter where I went on my grandma's property, I could NOT get a decent connection. Not on my phone and not on my laptop. Finally I just couldn't take it anymore.

  “You mentioned that I could borrow a car,” I told Grandma in the afternoon. “And I need to go someplace where I can check my e-mail.”

  She looked confused. “Well, the postman has already delivered the mail, dear. He was on time for a change. But there wasn't anything for you.”

  So I attempted to bring my grandma into the era of twenty-first century technology until she seemed to finally get it. Or almost. I also explained how I had a job writing for Dad's paper and that it was imperative for me to remain in contact during my stay here.

  “Help yourself to a vehicle,” she said. “There's my car or the pickup, and I'm sure Garth wouldn't mind if you used his rig. In fact, he might be heading to town anyway. Maybe you'd like him to give you a ride.” But it turned out Uncle Garth was finishing up a woodworking project that he'd promised to a friend.

  So I take the pickup, an ancient Willys Jeep with the hardest ride I've ever experienced. By the time I reach Port City, my insides feel like a bowl of jelly. But I soon discover that its worth the trip, since both my cell phone and computer now work. First off, I get myself a big Lemon Coke, and then I walk across the street to the city park where I locate a small vacant table.

  Then I turn on my laptop and read my e-mail. I have one fairly long one from my dad. It's very sweet. And there are two e-mails from Matthew, which are rather brief, but at least it sounds like he's enjoying Italy—it sounds like there are dozens of art galleries in every town. There are two e-mails from poor Maya who sounds frustrated. It seems her mom's behavior is getting more and more bizarre—or else my cousin is stringing me along with an overly active imagination.

  So I respond to these e-mails and let everyone know I am doing fine and having an interesting time in Florida, land of the gators. And then I decide to e-mail Natalie. Not that I thought she would be checking e-mail today, but I just figure it's a small way to let her know I'm thinking of her. Especially after our horrible good-bye a few days ago.

  Then I turn off my computer and decide to walk around town and check things out a bit. Of course, that takes about five minutes. And by then I am feeling pretty antsy again. It's like I really need to find out what's going on with Nat before I return to my disconnected state at Grandma's house. I just can't stop thinking—and worrying—about her.

  Finally, I try calling Natalie at home. Its almost five o'clock, and even with the time difference, I'm thinking she should be home by now. Still, I'm not sure she will even pick up. Furthermore, I'm not entirely sure that I am ready to talk to her. What will I say? Just the same, I return to my table in the small city park, sit down, and dial her number. And to my surprise, she answers.

  “Nat! You're home.”

  “Yeah,” she says without the slightest trace of enthusiasm. “Where'd you think I'd be?”

  “Oh, I don't know…it s just so good to hear your voice.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In Port City. It's the nearest town to my grandma s place. Man, she really lives out in the sticks.”

  “Seen any alligators?” Her voice still sounds pretty flat.

  “Not yet.” I pause, wondering what might be the best way to ask this next question. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Like crud.”

  “So, uh, did you go to your appointment…?” I pause, but she doesn't say anything. “At Haven?” I add, as if she doesn't know what I'm talking about.

  She sighs. “No.”

  “No?” I feel a faint ripple of hope. Like maybe she's changed her mind.

  There's a long silence, and finally she says, “Yeah, well, I guess I just wasn't ready yet.”

  Oh.”

  “I called and talked to a nurse this morning, and she said it was okay to postpone the procedure for a while, until I'm ready, that is.”

  “Oh.” My tiny wisp of relief evaporates into the humid sea air. And now I really don't know what to say.

  “It would've been a lot easier if I had someone to go with me…”

  “I'm sorry, Nat. But I tried to explain—”

  “I know. I know. You're cracking up, losing your mind, whatever you want to call it. Well, you and me both, Kim! Only I don't get to run away from my problems like some people. I have to stay here and face them head-on.”

  Her words sting, but I decide not to react. What good would it do anyway? There's another long stretch of silence, and I finally tell her that I should go. “My dad said these out-of-state calls will be expensive, since I don't have the best service, you know? But I can e-mail you. In fact, I already did.”

  “Yeah, right.” This feels like another slap in the face.

  “Look,” I say in a firmer voice. “I'm sorry I can't help you through this, Nat. But I just can't, okay Besides, you know how I feel about your, uh, decision and everything. It's not like I'm much encouragement. In fact, I don't even see why you'd want me around right now.”

  “Because you're my best friend,” she says in an angry voice. “And you should be here for me, Kim.”

  “Sorry,” I tell her, although I suspect that I don't sound very sorry since I'm actually quite irritated.

  “You already said that.”

  “Well, I better go. Take care, Nat.”

  “Yeah. You too.” But her voice is sharp as a knife as she says this, almost as if she'd rather be saying “Go swim with the alligators, you traitor!”

  Then we hang up. And now I feel so angry I want to throw my phone onto the ground and stomp it to pieces. I want to scream and shout and pound my fists on something. But instead I just sit here with my jaw clenched, and I'm sure, my blood pressure rising. I can't believe Nat is acting like this. Like it's somehow rny fault that she's in this stupid situation.

  And crud, if she wants to talk about best friends being supportive, what about all the things I've gone through before and after Mom died? Other than Matthew, I was pretty much on my own. Oh, sure, she might've been there for me a couple of times. But most of the time she's been off having one great big pity party for herself. Where does she get off treating me like this anyway?

  I realize it's time to head back now. Especially since I told Grandma I'd help her with supper. But I'm still fuming as I rattle and bounce down the road back to her house. But maybe the jolting trip is therapeutic since I feel slightly numb when I arrive. Although I'm not sure whether it's from the ride or my phone conversation with Nat.

  I help Grandma get dinner ready without talking much. I guess I'm still upset, still obsessing over the way Nat's treating me. Then as we eat, I am still not talking much. Afterward, Uncle Garth helps to clear the table, then excuses himself out to his shop. I offer to clean up the kitchen, but Grandma says she'll keep me company.

  “I can sit here and dry dishes.” She takes a dishtowel and sits at the kitchen table, propping her bad foot up on a chair in front of her. I suppose I'm still being pretty quiet as I scrape and wash dishes, until finally, my grandma wants to know if something is wrong.

  And to my surprise, I end up pouring out the whole story of Natalie, the pregnancy, her plan to have an abortion—everything. It's like my cork got popped or something. Even so, I'm thinking that Nat's story should be safe out here in the boonies—who's my grandma going to tell, the gators? Besides that, I'm still angry at Nat. Maybe I don't care who knows anymore.

  “Poor Natalie,” Grandma says as I toss a com husk into the compost bucket.

  “Poor Natalie?” I suppose I expected my own grandma to feel a little bit sorry for me.

  “Well, that's a heavy load for a girl to carry. And you say she's keeping this burden to herself—she hasn't even told her mother or the father-to-be yet?”

  “No. I keep telling her that she should. But she's afraid her mom will get upset, and she probably will. And the guy, the father-to-be, well, he do
esn't even like Natalie anymore. He has another girlfriend.”

  “Poor Natalie.” Grandma makes a tsk-tsk sound. “She must be feeling very lonely right now.”

  “But its her own fault. I mean, I still feel pretty lonely too, after having my mom die, but Natalie doesn't even seem to notice or much care most of the time. She's so concerned with herself and her own problems—” And that's when I start to cry.

  “Oh, Kimmy, dear.” Grandma sets aside the plate she was drying and gets up and comes over and puts her arms around me. “Yes, I can see how that would make you feel bad. You needed your good friend to comfort you, and there she was off having her own set of worries. Goodness knows, that must've been hard on you.”

  “I was trying to be a good friend to her.” I try to sniff back the tears. “But I guess I just don't know how to deal with it, the pregnancy and everything. And then this whole abortion thing, well, it's just so depressing and upsetting.”

  “Of course it is. That's a lot for any young person to deal with. Is Natalie quite sure she wants an abortion?” Grandma steps back and wipes my tears with her slightly damp dishtowel now.

  I shrug. “I'm not really sure. I guess I felt hopeful when I heard she canceled her appointment today. But she says it's only because she's not ready yet—like she thinks she'll still go through with it, like it's my fault for not being there to help her.”

  “There was a time, Kimmy.,.” Grandma eases herself back down in the kitchen chair and starts speaking in the same voice she uses when she's telling me something from the past, like how her mother made that crazy quilt. “A time when I wished I could have an abortion too.”

  I feel my eyes getting big—my grandma wanted an abortion? “Why?” I ask suddenly. “Was it with Garth?” I'd heard she had been getting kind of old when her second son was born. Maybe she had suspected there would be problems.

  “No, not with Garth, dear. With your daddy.”

  “Really?”

  She leans back in the chair, draping the dishtowel across her knees. “Now your daddy doesn't know all of this story, Kimmy. He knows a bit, but there are some things…well, I just didn't think he needed to hear.”