“Don’t feel bad. I’m failing Trig.”
“Trig? I can help you. Email me what you’re working on.”
“Like you need something else to do.”
“It’s fine. Now tell me, how did harvest go?”
I smiled. “You won’t believe what happened.”
We talked for over an hour, daydreaming and plotting how I could get to Nashville. After we discussed what we’d do if I made it, we decided it was probably better that I stayed home.
By midnight, I curled up in bed, satisfied that I’d finally heard his voice, and fell asleep.
~ * ~
Bam! My bedroom door smacked the wall as light from the kitchen flooded the darkness. I gasped and sat up, then glanced at the clock. Four thirty-two.
“Elsie!” Mark yelled.
“What?”
“Call 911! It’s Dad. I gotta help Mom.” He turned and ran.
I grabbed my cell phone. No, no, no... God, please. No. Fumbling, my fingers trembled as I pressed the numbers.
“911, what’s your emergency?” a woman answered.
“We need an ambulance.” My voice cracked. “It’s my dad.”
“Okay. What’s your address?”
“1708 West McAllister Road. Morris Chapel.”
I hurried out of my room, the phone still to my ear. All the lights in the house were on. Mark’s and Mom’s voices echoed down the hallway.
“Grab his arm!”
“The medication isn’t working,” Mark shouted.
The dispatch lady repeated our address.
I jogged to the doorway of my parents’ room and froze. It looked like Dad’s body was trying to eject his soul. The convulsions ripped through him, superhuman strength, fighting against Mark’s grasp.
“Please, hurry.” Tears clouded my eyes. “He’s having a seizure.”
“Stay calm, miss. We’re on our way. Can you tell me what exactly is going on?”
“He’s dying from a brain tumor. This is a really bad seizure.”
“Okay. They’re about ten miles away. Just a few more minutes.”
“Thank you.” I sniffled and ended the call.
Mom held Dad’s shoulder and arm, his resistance reverberating through her.
She looked up, tear-streaked and red-faced. “Are they coming?”
“Yes. What can I do?”
“Go wait for them.” Then she cried out in terror, “Brandon, stay with us!”
The hairs on my arms stood on end. I ran to the front door and shot outside into the cool morning air – sprinting toward the road. It was always darkest before dawn. I paced as I waited, shivering as warm tears turned cold on my cheeks. A faint siren. I held my breath. Don’t take him today. Don’t let this be it. One more day. Please.
Flashing red lights flickered through the ravines. Headlights appeared over the hill. I jumped up and down, waving my arms.
Moments later, they pulled into the driveway. A male paramedic jogged my way.
I shook all over. “He’s in the back bedroom.”
“Okay.” He hurried inside.
Two more paramedics ran past, carrying a gurney. I followed on their heels but stopped at the end of the hall as everyone crammed in the small bedroom. Mark backed out, one slow step at a time.
I ran to my room and quickly changed clothes, then dashed back to the living room. Listening to the commotion, I pulled on my socks. Mark came in and flopped on the recliner.
“There’s nothing they can do.” Tears streaming, he stared into space. “Nothing.”
What did he mean? Of course, they could do something. That was their job.
“What did you say?” I asked, irritated that he wouldn’t look at me.
“What?”
“Mark, what’s going on?”
“He’s dying, Elsie. This is it.”
I jumped up and darted toward the hallway.
“I need to say goodbye,” I cried. “I won’t ever see him again.”
“No! Elsie, don’t!” He shot out of the recliner and intercepted me before I made it to the hall, gently walking me backward to the living room. “Don’t go back there.”
I fell into his arms.
“We’ll get through this.” He held me tight. “We will. We’ll get through it.” He repeated the words over and over, like he was trying to convince himself, too.
Moments later, another warm touch ran over my back.
Mom pressed her head to both of ours. “It’s over. He’s gone.”
All three of us embraced, sharing our tears as one. The moment imprinted on my soul. The love for my family was overwhelming, but without Dad, we’d never be whole again. Our security. Our cover. The reason we were all together.
He was gone.
~ * ~
The next two hours were a complete blur, as if everything around me moved in fast forward, and I stood frozen in time. Paramedics. Coroner. The local sheriff. All of them in and out, following basic protocol. A police officer wanted a statement from me.
“Um, my dad died,” I said, numb and tired. “He has... or had a brain tumor.”
He tipped the wide brim of his navy-blue hat. “Sorry for your loss, miss.”
I nodded. He left me sitting on the couch, hugging my knees.
By eight a.m., they were all gone. Including Dad.
The silence. There was nothing else to say, so we all returned to our rooms. I grabbed my phone and pressed Tyler’s name, letting it ring twice. Shit. I hurried to press END. He was about to run at the NCAA Regionals. I couldn’t tell him Dad died before he competed.
Another blow of disappointment hit me. Tyler was the only person I wanted to talk to. I dropped the phone on my bed, snatched my iPod, and ran out the back door.
Sprinting as hard as I could, I had to get the hell away from the house. Away from the infestation of broken hearts and death. I couldn’t take anymore. I ran toward the rolling hills, cold morning air stinging my lungs. The pain felt like punishment, so I pushed harder.
Fuck! I wanted to hit something. I wanted to scream, throw a fit, curse the sky. I sprinted faster. Gravity pulled me toward the dip in the hill. Straining all my muscles, the burn fueled my anger. Flames shot up my shins, stinging to my knees. I needed to feel the pain somewhere other than inside.
When I made it to the top of the hill, flashes of Dad’s body rejecting him tortured my thoughts. The slamming sounds, Mom’s cries, the sirens, flashing red and blue lights. Mark’s affirmations as he desperately held me tight. The way he trembled in my arms.
“Why?” I cried out, face drenched in tears. “Why is this happening?”
I knew Dad would die. But why did he have to go like that? Why couldn’t he just go to sleep and never wake up? Of course, he wouldn’t go without a fight. Nothing ever came easy for him. He’d fought through the tragic death of his parents. Through the nightmare of dealing with Mom’s family. The struggle of supporting all of us. He’d fought his whole life. And this was his reward? Fuck!
The faster I ran, the less I felt. Limbs numb, the pavement evaporated under my feet, like I floated over the road.
Adrenaline clouding my judgment, I abruptly stopped and bent over, gasping for air.
Tyler. He would’ve turned around and started coaching.
“Don’t stop, not after pushing like that.” I thought of his voice. “You have to keep moving. Tell your body what you want. Don’t let it tell you. Don’t quit.”
I wanted to quit. I wanted to collapse and not get up. Still winded, I slowly started to jog. Little by little, I picked up the pace. Outrun the pain. Just keep running. But no matter how fast or how hard I ran, the wound lived inside. Fear that it would never leave pushed me on for another two miles.
An hour later, I walked in the front door. Mom sat at the kitchen table, talking on the phone. Without saying a word, her look screamed, “Where have you been?”
I pointed at the sweat pouring down my face.
She shook her head and looked at
the notepad on the table. I glanced at it. Names and numbers lined the page. She cupped her head in her hand.
“I know, it seems sudden,” she said, like she had to justify Dad’s audacity to die. “But he’s been fighting this for close to five years.”
It would take her hours to get all those phone calls made. I sat down at the table and waited for her to finish the call. She let out a long sigh as she hung up the phone.
“Do you want some help?” I asked. “I can make calls, too.”
She looked over the list, weary and tired. “Actually, yes. Here, call these people. They won’t be offended that I didn’t tell them personally.”
For the next two hours, Mom and I called all the various relatives in Illinois. I hadn’t seen most of them since I was twelve. Awkward. I dreaded the next few days. Random hugs, random faces. I just had to get through it.
One was a painfully long conversation with Dad’s Aunt Sue, who wouldn’t be able to make it, yet felt the need to tell me all about her china collection (which belonged to Dad’s first cousin). I managed to cut her off before a story about the crystal goblets. I made a beeline to the shower.
Meanwhile, Ruby and Woodrow showed up with a casserole and hot biscuits. When I’d finished getting ready, she smothered me in hugs and kisses.
“Such a good man,” she repeated over and over.
Woodrow sat at the table with a glass of tea. Forehead scrunched, he stared at the glass without a word to say. For such an old man, he reminded me of a brokenhearted, little boy.
Ruby insisted I eat. I tried. Her casserole tasted good, but I didn’t have any appetite.
Around two, Mark still hadn’t come out of his room. Mom left with Ruby and Woodrow to go make the funeral arrangements. She told me I was better off staying home.
Grateful, I grabbed Tyler’s journal, crawled under the covers, and pulled out the piece of stationery. At least I could read his words. Within minutes, my eyes grew heavy and I dozed off.
I woke to the bed sinking under someone’s weight. Mom.
I sat up and rubbed my face.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m so tired.”
“It was a long night... All the arrangements are done. Ruby and Woodrow have gone home. Have you talked to Tyler, yet?”
“No.”
“He’d want to know.”
“He’s in Florida at an NCAA meet.” I stared down at my blanket, tears started pouring down my face. “Mom, I don’t know how you’ll get through this... it hurts so much.”
“Oh, sweetie.” She wrapped her arms around me. “We’ll be okay.” Voice cracking, she let go of her resolve and cried with me.
Moments later, she let me go, and we grinned as we wiped our tear-soaked cheeks. The little bit of laughter briefly scared the pain away.
She took a deep breath, returning to Mom mode.
“Elsie. You need to tell Tyler.” She gave me a long, hard stare. “He cares about you.”
“I hope so. I’ve never felt like this about anyone.” I took a sharp breath. “I can’t even believe he wants to be with me.”
She winced. “Why?”
“I’m not.” I shrugged. “Well, I’m just... me. Nothing special.”
“And why is he so special?” She smirked. “Because of his money?”
“Because he’s freaking gorgeous,” I blurted.
“Okay. I’ll give you that. He’s very handsome.”
“Handsome?” I repeated. “He’s painful to look at. Seriously, he’s God’s masterpiece.”
She shook her head. “Come on, now. That’s a bit far.”
“It’s not only that,” I said. “He’s a total gentleman. Hands down the smartest person I’ve ever met. He’s strong, and he’s shown me a whole different world. Plus, he’s undeniably old school. And believe me, he sticks to it.”
She blushed. “Elsie... ”
“What?” I giggled. “You should be happy I told you that.”
“I suppose.” She narrowed her blue eyes. “You aren’t exactly easy to look at either, to quote you. Maybe I haven’t told you enough, but you are so beautiful. You have no idea how you affect people when you walk in a room. And when you’re willing to let them see it, you have a light that shines brighter than any I’ve ever seen. You have so much to offer him. You’ve been given great talents. Don’t waste them by thinking you’re not good enough.” She patted my leg. Her words were like manna. She shook her head and continued, “I’ve never seen Tyler as happy as he was this summer. He had this energy about him. There was just something different about the guy. Come to find out, it was you.”
Maybe Tyler’s confidence had flourished after he met me. I thought of his journal. Maybe I had helped him be the guy he wanted to be.
“Mom. You don’t know how much that means to me.” I leaned forward and hugged her. “Thank you for understanding.”
“Okay, now.” She readjusted herself on the bed. “You need to know the arrangements we’ve made. We won’t be having a visitation, just the funeral. Monday at four. Then, he’ll be buried in Morris Chapel afterward.”
“Who’s coming?”
“Well, Mom and Dad are already on their way. Your Uncle Travis, and of course, Aunt Gail. That’s about it, besides the locals.”
“Is your brother coming?”
“No. They’re still harvesting.” She furrowed her forehead. “Please be prepared. Mom and Dad are going to be all over us about moving, especially your grandmother.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Um, well... I don’t know how to answer that right now.” She stood up. “Let’s get through the next few days, okay?”
She walked out. Moving to Illinois would only add salt to my wounds. I didn’t want to leave Tennessee, and she knew it. That’s why she skated out as soon as I asked. My mind bounced between her comment, and when to call Tyler... until I fell back asleep.
The next morning, I woke to my phone buzzing.
“Hello,” I mumbled.
“Hey,” Tyler said, bright and cheerful. “You won’t believe it. I finished first for individual time. Isn’t that crazy? I’m going to Nationals.”
It took me a second to register his comment. “Wow, that’s great. I’m so proud of you. Will it change how long you’re in Florida?”
“No. I’ll fly back to Nashville tomorrow morning. I have a test at three. I don’t mean to cut this short, but I have to go. I just couldn’t wait to tell you. I’ll call soon, okay?”
“Yep.”
“I thought about you the whole race. I love you. I wish you could’ve been here.”
“Me, too.” I took a quivering breath. “I’m really happy for you. I love you, too.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, of course.” I resisted the urge to squash his joy. “Just woke up, that’s all.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay, bye.”
I pressed END. The guy was phenomenal. Everything he touched turned to gold.
No way I could crush news like that. High on victory, his spirit soaring. Talk about a joy killer. I’d tell him about Dad when he called back. That wasn’t the right time.
Chapter 32
I went to the living room around noon. My Bears vs. Mark’s Packers. Mark sat in the recliner, eating a sandwich. Pre-game commentators babbled on the TV.
I sat down on the couch. “Tell me Rogers fell and broke his arm,” I said, referring to the Packer’s star quarterback.
“You wish.” He took a bite of his enormous sandwich. “You’re... ” he said with a mouthful, bouncing his hoagie in the air, “getting your ass kicked today.” A chunk of lettuce flopped on his lap. He picked it up and ate it.
“We’ll see, big brother.” I hurried to the kitchen to get a soda.
Walking back toward the living room, I glanced down the hall. Mom was rearranging the bed, moving out all of the hospital stuff in her room. I changed routes and headed to see
if she needed help. A sniffle. A loud, wet sniffle. She needed space. Don’t hover. I pivoted and went back to the couch.
Mark and I watched the game with a little less enthusiasm. He never said anything about Dad, and he avoided looking at Mom when she’d walk by. He seemed content with me, so I just let him be himself. Two and a half hours later, Green Bay scored the winning touchdown. Mark shot out of the chair, whooping and hollering at the TV.
I sat on the couch with my arms crossed. “Whatever.”
I honestly didn’t care. Mark needed the win more than me. They cut to Green Bay’s quarterback. I’d had enough football for the week, so I went to Mom’s room.
I pushed her door open. “You all right?”
“Yeah. Getting everything rearranged. It’s filthy in here.”
She sat on the floor sorting papers. Cleaning therapy. She always cleaned when stressed. She’d made a pile of items to return to Home Care, disassembled the hospital bed, and stacked the linens. The room smelled of pine, instead of medicine.
I leaned against the wall. “I bet you’d like to sleep in your own bed.”
“Yes. Will you and Mark help me get it swapped out? The mattress is in the carport.”
“Sure.”
I felt numb and tingly, like my skin was literally absorbing reality. Emptiness filled my chest. A void. I couldn’t describe it. Relief? What a horrible thought. Terrible. Why had the word “relief” popped in my mind? That wasn’t what I felt. Sorrow. Anger. Not relief.
“Is Mark okay?” Mom asked.
I snapped out of my internal tirade. “Seems fine. But he is M-A-L-E.”
“I guess. It worries me when he shuts down. You’re both so... guarded.”
Glancing away, I mumbled, “I’ve heard that before.”
She stopped sorting. “Have you talked to Tyler?”
Tyler. Like she knew he’d called me out once for being guarded.
“This morning.” I took a deep breath and attempted to sound cheerful. “He won yesterday in individual time. Isn’t that great? He’ll go on to the NCAA Nationals.” I looked up at the ceiling, swallowing hard. “I couldn’t tell him, not today. It’s like his greatest day ever. I didn’t want to tell him about my worst.”
Life Happens on the Stairs Page 26
