by Dave Ferraro
Pinning the man against the ambulance had been an adrenaline rush. That’s what Google chalked it up to. Nothing budged when I tried to pick up the dresser, bed, or desk. When did it seem like a good idea to try those ideas? Frustration peaking, I turned on my music, sat down on the bed and leaned against the wall. Eyes closed, I tried to focus on remembering what had happened. It had happened, right?
The other unavoidable issue to wrestle with was Memaw. Sure, she was seventy years old, but that didn’t change the fact that we had never gotten along since I was old enough to walk and talk. She’d never wanted a granddaughter; it was always clear in her demeanor. I couldn’t even remember doing anything with her like a normal grandparent would. Not that I wanted to start now. Maybe I could get out of the house before she yelled at me some more with how horrible I was for beating up a paramedic. Memaw was old, but she was fierce.
Not five minutes later, Mom barged in unannounced and broke my concentration by turning the music off. Memaw was with her, holding onto her arm. “Ashlyn, Memaw wants to talk to you.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
Memaw limped forward. “I don’t care what you want to do. We’re talking. Sarah, could you leave us alone, please?”
Mom nodded, still in a daze, then walked upstairs. I sighed, grabbed my pillow and held it tight to my chest. Memaw stood at the side of the bed, her eyes boring holes into me. “What in the world were you thinking out there, grabbing the man like that? You could have killed him.”
“It would be great to know what I was thinking out there, but the problem is, I wasn’t! Why are you acting like I did it on purpose? It was in the heat of the moment; it was just an emotional thing. There’s no way I could do it again anyway, so why does it matter?”
She looked at me with pursed lips, then quickly turned away. That was a sure sign she was holding something back. I stood up and threw the pillow back on the bed. “Is there more? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t act like there’s no Irish fairy tale story to tie into this. You always have one that refers back to me as a horrible person, anyway.”
We stared at each other. Memaw was impossibly stubborn. Luckily, it was a family trait. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Silence.
This was stupid. What was the point of her yelling if she wasn’t even going to explain what crime had been committed? I stormed away from her and kicked the trashcan, which ricocheted off the wall and flew toward Memaw.
I watched her eyes as they landed on the manila folder. “You threw away your flight tickets?”
“What’s the point in them if Dad’s gone?”
She picked up the folder, examining everything. “You need to learn about your heritage. Your past.”
“You know a lot. Why don’t you just tell me?”
Her face turned red. “Ashlyn Marie McVean, respect your elders.”
“Why? It’s not like you respect me.”
She stomped over and grabbed my face. Memaw had never felt like a threat, but her grasp was stronger than I had imagined possible. A wave of fear washed over me. She felt like…more. There was no logical way to explain it.
Jerking out of her reach, I turned my back on her. “You’re hiding something.”
“You’re not ready.”
Bingo. “So there is something! You just yell at me for almost killing someone, but you won’t explain what happened.”
She reached out once more to try to connect. I took another step away. Then, an idea struck. Snatching the folder from her, I stood on my toes and looked in her eyes. “You know, maybe I’ll use those. Jamie would go.”
Memaw’s face changed. Instead of angry, she looked scared. “You’re not going anywhere with Jamie. She’s an accident waiting to happen. We’ll have to pick you up from the airport in a matchbox.”
“Just watch me.”
“If I told you how you pinned that man against the ambulance, you wouldn’t believe me.”
My phone was on the stairs across the room. Crossing the space in three strides, I grabbed it and texted Jamie quickly. It was already a fact that she’d say yes. Her life was the envy of everyone at school. Her nomadic, carefree lifestyle came from having parents who were always gone and didn’t seem to care what she was doing. Returning to the conversation at hand, my focus returned to Memaw. “You’re right. I won’t. I did a Google search and it was an adrenaline rush. You don’t know anything that the Internet didn’t already explain.”
The reverse psychology worked. Finally driving her to the edge, her Irish accent was thick once more. “Seen any action movies lately?”
I stopped, stunned. Did she know Jamie, Reese, and I had gone to see that bounty hunter movie? No, she couldn’t. We didn’t tell anyone, especially our parents. Sneaking into R-rated movies wasn’t something you discussed over dinner with them. It kind of killed the point. “Why would that matter?”
She smiled. “I thought so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you’re more than you think. It means we need to have a talk. You and I. You need to start listening to the things I’ve been telling you.”
“You never tell me anything but one more of your Irish legends. I’m not interested in –” I wanted to continue, but at that moment the phone went off. Reading the text, a smug grin came over my face. “Jamie can go to Ireland. We just need to call the airline and change the name on the ticket.”
Memaw was as white as the sheets on the bed. “Ashlyn, don’t.”
“Why not? Will I kill Jamie by accident? Snap the plane in half? Shoot fireballs from my eyes?”
“Just…don’t. You’re a –”
“I’m a what? A girl who overreacted after watching her dad die? That’d be right. A freak? If so, it doesn’t change the fact that Jamie’s my best friend and we’re going to Ireland next week.”
With that, I stormed up the stairs, leaving Memaw to fend for herself.
Mom was standing at the top. She must have been eavesdropping. “Ashlyn, you’re not a freak.”
I grabbed my coat and headed for the door.
Mom started again. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To see Reese.” I slammed the door before she could respond.
