by R. K. Ryals
Deena turned down the lights.
Placing a soft kiss against Tansy’s neck, I whispered, “Thank you for coming.”
Her hand found mine, clasping it against her.
***
Morning brought stale coffee and changing shifts. Chatter echoed down the hall, the ICU unit door swinging open automatically and sealing shut each time one nurse left and another entered.
“You should go in first,” I told Pops, my gaze on the posted visiting hours. “Jonathan and I can take one of the other slots.”
“I don’t want to go in,” Jonathan protested.
Deena watched him, a knowing look on her face. “It’ll make you feel better if you do … in the long run,” she told him.
His dark gaze slid to hers, his frown deepening. “I’ll go last then.”
Standing, Pops smoothed his hands down his clothes, and left the room. He looked out of place in the hospital, older and more fragile.
Pausing in front of the intercom system, he pressed the button.
A crackling voice exploded from it. “Can we help you?”
“Carson Lockston for Ivy Lockston.”
A chime sounded. The door to the ICU swung open.
Squaring his shoulders, Pops marched forward, his war face on. It couldn’t be easy knowing his daughter was back there, her life forever changed because she’d wanted to end it.
The worry lines on Jonathan’s face deepened. “I’m guessing Pops called Uncle Andrew?”
Andrew was our mom’s brother, Pops’ oldest child, and Lincoln’s father.
“I don’t know,” I answered.
Mom didn’t get along well with her brother, but even so, I didn’t see him not coming at all.
A figure darkened the doorway. “Eli? Jon?”
My head shot up, my gaze meeting a dark-haired young woman, a loose tunic shirt and palazzo pants enfolding her ample figure.
Jonathan was the first to move.
“Heather!” he exclaimed, throwing himself at her.
Standing, I tucked my hands into my pockets and waited.
When the hug ended, she peered up at me, her eyes shining with tears. “Hey, Eli.”
Unlike Jonathan, Heather and I had spent the majority of our childhood in the same house, and even after a year apart, it felt like she’d never left.
I opened my arms to her, tucking her head against my chest when she moved into them. “Did you know about Mom?” I whispered. “About what she did to us when we were kids?”
She nodded against me.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Heather pulled away, her eyes meeting mine. “Seemed easier not talking about it. Mom’s always been a little … off.” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t think she’d do this though.” A tear slid down her cheek.
Swiping at it, she glanced around the room, and I suddenly became aware of the other people with us.
Stepping back, I introduced them. “This is our sister, Heather. Heather, this is Hetty Anderson, and these are her granddaughters, Deena Griffin,” I gestured at the wiry fourteen-year-old, her curly hair a mass of early morning tangles, “and Tansy Griffin.” Reaching for her hand, I tugged her toward me. “My girlfriend.”
Heather’s eyes lit up with interest. “Your girlfriend?”
The door to the ICU swung open, cutting off my reply.
Pops stepped out, the sagging expression on his face transforming when he caught sight of Heather.
They hugged, their embrace long and full of emotion.
***
The next visiting hour came too quickly, and I took my place in front of the intercom. Heather had decided to wait until the next slot, opting for it when Jonathan told her he didn’t want to go.
Tansy squeezed my hand, offering me what strength she could, before letting go.
The doors swung open, revealing a long desk on the left side of the room and a line of sectioned off glass cubicles on the right, curtains pulled closed for privacy.
“She’s the fourth one down,” a nurse informed me.
Pausing in front of the curtain, I inhaled, grasped the material, and shoved it aside.
Mom looked like she’d been abducted by aliens. Tubes came out of her mouth, the medical tape holding them down lying against her cheeks, drawing attention to her closed, swollen eyes. Machines beeped next to the bed.
“She opened her eyes this morning,” the nurse said, coming in behind me. Her name tag pegged her as Brenna. “We have her sedated for now until we remove the tubes, but you can talk to her if you want.” Grabbing a chart, she left.
A brown, metal chair rested next to the bed, and I lowered myself into it.
My hands rose, and then fell again.
I wanted to touch her, but I also didn’t want anything to do with her.
Head falling, my hands clasped together, I breathed, “Shit, Ivy,” because I knew saying Mom wouldn’t help. She didn’t like that word.
My gaze rose, finding her face, and I felt an overwhelming surge of pity. “You’re like a princess locked in an ivory tower,” I told her. “But you always have been, haven’t you? This royal beauty, the star of her own dream world.” There was no animosity in my voice. Only honesty and sadness. “Your world doesn’t always include us, but when it does, you don’t let us forget it.”
I laughed, no harshness in the sound. “You were actually really good at games. Remember that? The way you’d goad me and Heather into playing Twister with you while you sang high-pitched songs we didn’t know. Show tunes, you called them.” I sighed. “That’s the Ivy I’m going to think about from now on, not the one bursting with demons. Despite everything, you know we’ll always be there for you, right? You may not have wanted us, but we’re here, and being with this family includes being around you. So for them, I’ll try. Try for us, too, okay? I won’t ask you to be a mom anymore. I’m just asking you to be you.” Reaching out, I touched her hand, the gesture awkward. “I’m asking you to get help. For you. Not us.”
Pushing the chair back, I stood.
“You’ve still got some time,” Brenna called when I passed.
“I said what I needed to.”
I pushed a button, and the door opened. Rather than return to the waiting room, I kept walking.
SIXTY-THREE
Tansy
Heather glanced at me curiously. She was a beautiful, full-figured woman, a dimple flashing in her cheek when she smiled.
“Eli’s girlfriend, huh?” she asked, catching my gaze. “If you knew how off-putting my brother can be around women, you’d understand why I’m so surprised. Shocked even.”
“Oh, I know,” I told her. “He’s not as distant as he pretends to be though.”
She studied me. “You live in Atlanta?”
“Once,” I answered. “I’ll be back here soon. For school.”
The door to the ICU unit swung open, interrupting us.
My gaze shot up to find Eli marching past, his feet thudding against the floor. Leaving.
I went to the door.
“It’s hard seeing her,” Pops told the room, waving Eli’s actions off.
I knew better. Not only that, I knew where he was going.
Flip-flops slapping the floor, I rushed after him, lights blurring around me, until my hands pressed an ‘Exit’ door. I climbed the stairs, gasping.
When I reached the roof, I stopped short, my eyes on the man leaning against the parapet, his gaze on the city, an unlit cigarette dangling from his fingers.
Roof boy.
He was no longer a stranger to me.
Hot air grazed my cheeks. The sun was high in the sky, startling on air-conditioned chilled skin.
I joined him, my arms resting on the stone. “Is this spot taken?”
His head lowered, his lips twitching at the familiar words. “Life is funny, isn’t it? How sometimes it’s the people who are supposed to build you up that break you down, and the people you thought would hurt you,” he threw me a k
nowing look, “are the ones who help heal the pain.”
Reaching over, I took his hand, entwining my fingers with his. “I’m staying, okay? This is me,” I squeezed, “staying.”
He snorted. “I’m not asking you to stay.”
I smiled. “Well, seeing as I’m kind of involved with this guy who really needs me to be here right now, I suppose you’re stuck with me. That’s not saying a lot. I’m an ear, but I’ve got really bony shoulders.”
Out of nowhere, a single, muted tear slid down Eli’s cheek, the first one I’d ever seen him shed.
“Good,” he mumbled, choking. “You know, I’m glad I stayed that day. I’m really, really glad I stayed.”
Sweat formed between our clasped hands, but I didn’t let go.
“You’re still alive. Breathe, Eli,” I whispered.
His shoulders shook.
Turning, he pulled me against him. The roof, our roof, was a baking hot oven with steam puffing upward from below, scalding us.
I didn’t care.
Holding me, clinging to me, Eli cried, the tears falling into my hair. My arms circled his waist.
Damn Death. Damn the fear of death. Damn the comfort some people found in death. Damn the things we did to push Death away or, in some cases, draw him in.
My heart broke. It broke for Eli. It broke for the road his family was going to have to travel. It broke for the healing his mother was going to have to endure.
Most of all, it broke because I realized something about death, and it brought startling clarity. In the end, Death doesn’t say, “I’m doing the best I can.” Death says, “I’m finished.”
It was people that had to pick up the pieces. People who had to do what they could with what was left.
SIXTY-FOUR
Eli
Going into the ICU and sitting next to Mom had changed something within me. I’d come out stamped with understanding, this knowledge that seeing her there, talking to her, wasn’t about forgiveness. It was about moving on. Not past her. She was going to be my mother for the rest of her life, or mine, whichever came first. Moving through her, however, meant accepting the past.
Tansy taught me the rest.
By meeting me on the roof, she opened up every door inside me I’d ever shut on purpose, the dams holding back the emotions, finally breaking free. All of the emotions, not just the love I’d confessed to Tansy, but the repressed shit I’d always held back, the emotions which kept me from being more than I could be.
Jonathan didn’t fare as well.
He finally went into the ICU that afternoon, confused and angry, and he came out unchanged.
His dad showed up at the hospital, his sun-kissed fiancée in tow, and Jonathan took it for what it was: an escape.
Dean, his studious gaze passing over us, nodded his acknowledgement, but kept his attention on his turmoil-ridden son.
Grasping Jonathan’s shoulders, he asked, “Are you okay?”
Jonathan broke. “I want to go home.”
He was running.
I’d been there, and because of that, I knew there was no stopping him. He’d run, and he’d keep running until he was ready to quit.
“Is he leaving?” Heather asked incredulously.
She started for him, and my hand shot out, holding her back. “We’ve both been there,” I said, remembering all of the years when she’d run away from home. Time and time again. “Let him go.”
Still, my heart hurt when I hugged my brother good-bye. I’d gotten to know him better this summer than I ever had.
Deena was the last to embrace him.
All tough, she pulled away first, swiped her nose on her sleeve, and sniffed out, “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”
Deena was going to break hearts one day, once men realized how big her heart actually was.
Dean crowded his son, protecting him, his fiancée flanking Jon’s other side, sandwiching him in. Loving him. Which was good. Jonathan deserved shit loads of love.
“He’s going to feel bad for not staying one day,” Heather grunted.
I glanced at my grandfather, the memory of the day I left Mom the summer before still vivid in my head. Pop’s gaze met mine, and he nodded, remembering, too.
“No, he won’t,” I said. “Sometimes you’ve got to remove yourself from the puzzle to see the bigger picture.”
Heather looked at me, startled. “What’s happened to you, Eli?”
I shrugged. “I’m adulting.”
Tansy chuckled, and I glanced down at her, smiling.
Mom was lying behind a hospital door, her future full of uncertainty, and yet somehow I knew everything was going to be okay.
We’d move forward, one painstaking step at a time.
Because that’s what we did.
SIXTY-FIVE
Tansy
Having a job meant having to leave the hospital before the weekend.
Deena, Nana, and I were silent on the way home, my heart left behind.
As much as I hated to leave, I made the best of it, throwing myself into work while using my spare time to finish the garden at the orchard.
There was a little bit of everything in that garden, hidden secrets everywhere, pieces of Eli’s family in every plant, flower, and structure.
Nana helped me, buying the few things I needed to finish the garden as a gift for the Lockstons. It felt right doing that for them.
I even made a bouquet for my therapist because, let’s face it, I was going to be seeing her for a while. With my baggage, she needed flowers.
Eli came home for the week, but only long enough to finish the community service hours he had left, sleep, and grab a set of clothes before returning to Atlanta.
The summer was ending. We all knew it, but no one wanted to admit it.
Ray had found a replacement for Eli at the gym. I’d finished filing all of my paperwork for school, and I was apartment hunting. Nothing fancy, just a small place in Atlanta for me. Something cheap that my landscaping job could pay the rent and the bills on. I’d filed for a work-study position, and I was banking on the extra income.
“Not too cheap,” Nana admonished. “I’ll force help on you before I let you take something in the unsavory part of town.”
I promised her I’d stay safe.
Every night, Eli and I talked, each conversation fuller than the next.
Sometimes, when things were slow, I drove up to Atlanta to see him. His mom had been moved to a regular room. She was paralyzed from the waist down, her body listless, her sulking eyes staring at paint-chipped walls.
Pops spent a lot of time talking to her. Psychiatrists and physical therapists came in, each taking their turns. She was started on new medications.
“It’s going to take some time,” Eli said, walking me to my car after my latest visit.
At the Buick, he pulled me into his embrace, his body pressing against mine. “I miss you,” he whispered.
Releasing me, he drew something from his pocket, and I gasped, my gaze on the familiar blue box he held. I’d never seen a Tiffany’s jewelry box before, but there weren’t many women who didn’t know what it was.
“Open it,” he insisted.
Hands shaking, I took it, carefully removing the lid. Inside, a ring rested against a pillow of white.
It was a circle of olive leaves.
“It’s a promise,” Eli told me. Taking it, he slid the jewelry onto my left ring finger. “It’s a promise to wait, to not lose this great thing we have while we’re separated, while spending time finding ourselves.” His gaze found mine, trapping it. “This is your garden, Tansy, and I’m a part of it, okay?”
I nodded, tears springing to my eyes. “I’ve got something for you, too.”
Swiping at my cheeks, I left him to pop open the trunk of my car. Pulling out the project I’d been knitting since the beginning of summer, I brought it to him.
His brows rose. “What is it?”
Amused, I offered it to him. “It’s a sail. Not on
e you can actually use on a boat. Obviously. It’s a figurative one. One to help you navigate the sea of life.” I paused, grimacing. “That sounded so much cheesier out loud that it did in my head.”
Accepting the knitted sail, he laughed. “Nothing you say is cheesy, roof girl. Completely out there maybe, but never cheesy.”
The sun caught on the ring he’d given me, the olive leaves glinting. “I love you, Eli.”
He kissed me, his lips urging mine open. I yielded, allowing him in.
Always.
SIXTY-SIX
Eli
I was a day away from flying to Michigan when I finally returned to the orchard, my grandfather and my mother in tow.
The whole family was there, my mother’s brother—better late than never—my cousin, Lincoln, Mandy, Heather, and even Jonathan, who’d returned with his father for Mom’s homecoming.
Mom had a long way to go, but she was improving. Even so, she’d never walk again. Mentally, she was just there. Existing, but still fighting not to.
Mental illness had torn a path through my family’s life, giving me a whole new respect for those who suffered from it and for the families who supported them along the way. It was going to take a lot of time, but I was determined not to let it define me or my family. I was determined not to let it change me into something I didn’t want to be.
A horn honked, Hetty’s van pulling into the drive behind us. Deena waved from the passenger seat.
Tansy was the only one missing, and I felt her absence like a gaping hole in my chest. Her first day of classes had started a day before mine, and she’d been forced to stay in Atlanta.
I’d gone to see her before I left, spending most of the day in bed with her, holding her close, remembering every moment, whispering words, secrets, pains, and joys that we had no intention of sharing with anyone else.
“Did you see the garden?” Hetty asked, climbing free of the van. “If you haven’t, I’m supposed to make you go. Now!”
