After a long time Morgan emerged. He smiled at me without the slightest glimmer of recognition. “I’m going to Vegas,” he said.
“Come on,” I said, “I’ll drive.”
I talked one of the cops into driving Morgan home, pointing out that otherwise they were going to be stuck with a very wet, very old horse. I left my car there and rode Clementine back to the trailer. It wasn’t far, but we were both soaked to the bone by the time we got there.
Jane was waiting in the trailer, and she tended to Morgan while I got Clementine warm and settled.
“Girl, let’s get some hot tea in you,” Jane said when I stepped inside, making little puddles wherever I stood.
I shook off my slicker. “Caffeine sounds like a fine idea.”
“Darn, I wish I had my car,” Jane said. “But my daughter wrecked hers again and I lent her my Toyota for the week. Otherwise I could take you back to the station and you could be on your way.”
While the water rumbled in the kettle and the rain drummed down on the trailer, we started a game of poker, at Morgan’s suggestion. He fell asleep before the kettle whistled. I covered him with his old quilt, and the dogs huddled around him, a motley, breathing quilt of their own design.
“What’s happening?” Cha-cha asked.
“Shh, Morgan’s sleeping,” Jane said.
“It’s nice of you to help Sam out the way you have,” I whispered as Jane and I huddled near the tiny, ancient stove.
“I don’t mind. My husband had Alzheimer’s, and I know what it’s like. I admire the kid for trying.” When she smiled, all the lines in her strong, proud face rearranged themselves, like a shifting kaleidoscope. “I just think he’s got to wise up. He’s killing himself working, and he’s got the problems at school and all.”
I sipped the tea, warming my numb fingers on the chipped teacup. “Problems?”
“If I’d known they were going to suspend Sam, I would have stepped in, maybe taken Morgan in during the day. Thing is, I work part-time filling in as cashier at the Mobil on Route 301, and—”
“They suspended Sam?”
“He didn’t tell you? Great, Jane, and now you’ve gone and talked your mouth off. Well, it’s a cinch you would’ve figured it out soon enough.”
We heard the low growl of Sam’s motorcycle and the crunch of gravel. He stepped into the trailer, bringing the smell of rain with him. His face was flushed.
He went straight over to check Morgan, who didn’t awaken.
“Man, I’m sorry,” Sam said to us. “Jack wouldn’t let me off till now. I tried, but … He’s okay?”
“He’s fine,” I said. “I think he enjoyed himself.”
“What happened at the police station?”
“Morgan went to the bathroom. That was pretty much the high point.”
“No ticket, nothing like that?”
“No. They see this a lot, I think.”
He frowned. “He’s been doing really well, hasn’t he, Jane? Staying in, watching TV. He really seemed to understand.” He slumped against the wall. “I ought to get rid of that damn horse, that’s the problem here.”
“Sam.” Jane ran her hand over his wet hair affectionately. “That horse isn’t the problem.”
“Where is Clementine, anyway?” Sam asked me.
“I rode her home,” I said. “She’s all set.”
“No wonder you’re soaked.” He paced back and forth, not an easy task in the tiny space available. “So your car’s still back at the station?”
I nodded, sipping my tea. His agitation filled the trailer, making it feel as if Sam, not the rain and wind, were the cause of its vibrating and shuddering.
“I can give you a lift back on the bike,” Sam said.
“Wait till the rain slows,” Jane said. “You shouldn’t ride that contraption in this weather, Sam.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m already soaked.”
“I’ve got to pick up some groceries on the way back,” Sam said to Jane. “What can I get you?”
Jane frowned. “You are one stubborn young man. A quart of milk, then, if you insist on going. Low-fat, not skim, okay? I’ll stay here with the Lone Ranger till you get back.”
“Thanks, Jane.” Sam gave her a quick, shy kiss on the cheek, and she smiled with pleasure.
We rode through the rain in silence. By the time we reached the police station I was shivering, even though it was warm and muggy. I climbed off the bike and handed Sam my helmet.
“Have you got a minute?” I asked.
“I owe you a lot more than that.”
I motioned to my car and he followed.
We climbed in. It was a relief to be out of the rain, even though we were soaked. I turned on the car and cranked the heater. “Why didn’t you tell us about school?” I asked. “Izzy or me?”
Sam shrugged. “It just happened the day before yesterday. And anyway, I didn’t want to hear a lot of second-guessing. I’ve heard just about all of that I can take.”
“Oh?”
“They called my mom in Michigan and told her what was going on, not that she didn’t already know. So she calls me and tells me she really thinks it’s time for me to give up this whole notion, that it would be better for Morgan and for me if we went ahead and put him in a home, as much as she hates to do it.”
“What did you say?”
“I said, ‘You didn’t exactly give up on Dad overnight, did you? You hung in there.’ To which she said she’d hung in way too long.” He pounded the dashboard. “Sorry. I’m just pissed off at all these people telling me what’s best for me. This is about what’s best for Morgan.”
“You’re right. I’m sure you can figure something out,” I said automatically.
“Thanks.” He reached across and touched my shoulder.
“It’s nice to have someone on my side.”
“What does Izzy say about all this?”
“We don’t talk about it much. She’s been so worn out lately, I hate to bother her with it.”
A policeman, the heavyset one I’d talked to at the station, crossed the lot to his car. I thought of my morning with Morgan. Of the blank, content, confused stare, and the hand as vulnerable as a baby bird.
“Sam,” I said suddenly, before I lost my nerve, “this is wrong. I was wrong before. You can’t work it out. You’ve got to realize the truth. Morgan needs more care than you can give him. Can’t you see? You’re hurting yourself and you’re going to end up hurting him. Your mom’s right, Sam. Morgan needs someone to be there for him all the time.”
He gazed at me with such wounded eyes that I wanted to take it all back. I touched his arm and he recoiled. “You tried better than anyone else could have. You are good at watching out for people, Sam, you’re the best. But things change. You can’t stop Morgan from getting old. You do what you can do, but some things you can’t change.”
Suddenly I realized that if he put Morgan in a nursing home, he would have no reason to stay in Florida—no reason except Izzy, and maybe me. I would lose him forever. But then, I reminded myself, I’d probably already lost him.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just trying to be honest.”
“What the hell do you know about honesty?”
“Not a whole lot,” I admitted. The rain was pelting down with more force. “Look. Rosa works at a nursing home; maybe I could talk to her. Or your mom could give her a call, maybe set something up.”
“You don’t know a damn thing about loyalty, do you, Alison? When you love someone, you don’t change your mind halfway down the road. You don’t decide, whoops, would you mind dating my best friend instead of me? And you don’t say, hey, you’re getting in the way, so I’m going to lock you up in some warehouse for the dying.”
He leapt out, slamming the door behind him. I couldn’t tell if he was crying or if it was just the rain. I thought about all the lies I could say to make him feel okay. I thought of how much it hurt to see someone you loved in such pain. A
nd then I drove away.
My mom was in the kitchen when I got home, still in her white vet coat. “You’re home already?” she asked.
I tossed my slicker aside. “What do you mean, already?” I asked shakily. “Where’s Dad?”
“He had an emergency. Never mind where’s Dad, where’s Sara?”
I slapped my forehead. “Oh, great, just great. Oh, jeez, she’s going to kill me.”
“You forgot?”
“I had an emergency of my own. Sam’s grandfather was at the police station—long story.” I grabbed her wrist to check the time. “Do you think it’s too late?”
“It should just be finishing up by now. Damn. I was counting on you, Alison, since your father and I couldn’t be there, and it was so important to her.”
“I’ll make it up to her.”
“Please try. I think she’s feeling a little neglected.”
I started to leave, but my mom took my arm. “Honey. I have to tell you something.”
Her somber gaze was all I needed. My heart dropped. “Oh, God, is it Izzy?”
She nodded. “Lauren called me at work when she couldn’t get you. She didn’t want to leave a message on the machine. Izzy had another seizure this morning, a bad one, and they’re taking her back to Miami for tests.”
“When?”
“Right away. They arranged for one of those transport ambulances.” She took my shoulders and held them firmly. “She’s okay. It’s just a setback, not …”
“She doesn’t want to be there. She told me so.”
“Lauren likes the doctors there. They know Izzy’s case, they can do what’s best for her.”
“I have to go see her.”
“Maybe we can work something out next week. I could take the day off, rearrange some appointments, and we could go together.”
“No, Mom, I have to see her right away. Let me take the wagon, okay?”
“Alison, don’t put me in this position.” She leaned against the kitchen counter. Her eyes were damp. Thunder rolled, rattling the windowpanes. “The weather’s terrible, and you know that car’s been acting up. I can’t let you go, so don’t ask.”
“I drive it around town.”
“Just for quick errands. This is a long trip. Hon, why is it so important? A few days won’t matter.”
“Because I promised. Because it could matter.”
“I’m really sorry, Alison. But the answer is no.”
I bit my lower lip to stop the quivering. “Did Lauren call Sam?” I asked at last.
“She said she tried, but there was no answer at the trailer.”
I looked up Sam’s number and dialed it. Jane answered. “Is Sam back yet?” I asked.
“Not yet,” she said. “You want to leave a message?”
“Yes. No, I’ll call back,” I said, and hung up. “I’m going to change my clothes and go get Sara,” I said.
My mom nodded. She was crying softly, and I realized she wasn’t handling this any better than I was. I went to her and we hugged for a while. I felt better, even though I knew she couldn’t fix anything, and I couldn’t either.
Chapter 13
SARA WAS WAITING by the gym, her basketball tucked under her arm, her face hardened into a scowl. In her right hand she held a little silver trophy.
She slammed the door so hard I jumped. “We won, not that you give a—”
“Sara, you have to understand. I wanted to be here, but something came up.”
She stared at her trophy. “Look, I’m not a moron. I know you think I’m a moron, but eventually even I get the picture. You don’t want to have anything to do with me, fine.”
“It was about Morgan. He went riding Clementine again, only this time he got busted. I had to bail him out of jail because Sam couldn’t get away.”
For the first time, she looked at me. “Is he all right?”
“Well, yes and no.”
“Did they lock him up and everything?”
“No. Nothing that dramatic. I wish you’d been there, though. I could have used some help. I had to take him to the bathroom. The guys’ bathroom. It’s been a very full morning.”
She conceded a small smile, nothing more.
“Can I see your trophy?” I asked.
Grudgingly she handed it to me. It was plastic painted silver, a crude likeness of a girl leaping up with a basketball on the tip of her finger.
“It’s stupid, I know,” Sara said.
“I’ve never won a trophy,” I pointed out.
I returned it to her. She had chipped pink polish on her stubby fingernails. “When did you start wearing nail polish?” I asked.
“I don’t know. A while ago. Kayla had some.”
“I’ve been sort of preoccupied lately, haven’t I?”
Sara gave a terse nod. Tears filled her eyes.
“I guess I’ve been worried about Izzy and Sam and everything.”
“That’s not why,” Sara muttered. “It started before that. It started—I don’t know, a real long time ago. When you got to high school.”
“What started?”
“You … I don’t know, Al, you just … changed. I feel like—” She swallowed. “I feel like I can’t keep up.”
“You’re not supposed to keep up.” I played with her ponytail gently. “You’re ten, you’re supposed to be ten. When you’re growing up, there are all these stages, some of which, incidentally, pretty much suck. But you can’t leave any out.”
“Why not?”
“Because … It’s hard to explain. It’s like when you play Monopoly. If you skipped any of the spaces, it would be cheating.”
“I feel like you live on a different planet from me sometimes,” Sara said.
I laughed. “Sometimes so do I.”
“I’m not a total moron, you know. You can tell me stuff.”
“I know I can,” I said. “I’m sorry if I forgot that for a while.”
Suddenly I thought of Izzy, far away in an ambulance, slicing through the rain to a place she didn’t want to be. “Sara, Izzy’s sicker,” I said softly. “They’re taking her to that hospital in Miami.”
“Is she going to—”
“I don’t know.”
She nodded. “It’s okay about the game,” she said after a while. “Sometimes … you know. Things get complicated.”
We were halfway home when the car began to shudder as if it had a raging fever. It coughed, it sighed, and then it gave out. I managed to ease off onto the shoulder before we lost momentum.
I looked at Sara and smiled wearily. “It would, of course, be raining.”
“There’s a gas station about a mile down the road.”
“Do you believe a day can be cursed?”
“It’ll be okay, Al. Want me to go call, and you stay here?”
I put on the flashers. “No. We’ll go together.”
The rain was colder now, harder too. We sloshed along, side by side, getting drenched by passing cars. Sam’s place wasn’t far. We could have walked there and used the phone, but I just couldn’t deal with him yet, not face to face. When I got home, when I was dry and calm, then I would call and tell him about Izzy.
Sara noticed the motorcycle before I did. It whizzed past, then made a U-turn, circled back, and came to a stop behind us.
Sam, of course. He was carrying a plastic grocery bag, the top tied in a knot to keep out the rain.
“I guess it’s my turn to rescue you,” he said flatly. He was still angry. “Come on, I’ll take you to the trailer. You can call your parents or whatever from there. Sara, you first.” He cast me a guarded look. “I’ll be right back.”
I kept on walking, and in a few minutes he was back for me. I climbed on the back of the bike and reached for his waist. I was surprised when I began to cry, because it was the last thing I wanted to do. “Izzy’s worse,” I said, my cheek against his wet, slick jacket. “They took her to Miami.”
Sam gave a brief nod. We rode in silence back to the traile
r. With Morgan and Jane and Sara there, not to mention all the animals, it was impossible to move. The air was stale and damp.
Sam threw his jacket in a corner. “When did Izzy go?”
“This morning. Lauren tried to call you. I was going to, when I got home.”
I sat down between the two poodles on the edge of Morgan’s bed. I could not look at Sam. “I’m afraid she’s going to die,” I whispered. “I have to go see her.”
Sam ran his fingers through his wet hair. “I’ll take the bike.”
I looked at him hopefully.
“I can’t take you,” he said, “it’s not safe. The damn weather—”
“Oh, but it’s okay for you to go?” Jane demanded. “No sir, mister, you are doing no such thing.”
He rolled his eyes at her, his anger softened by affection. “Who elected you mom?”
“You need a mom while you’re here,” she said gruffly.
“I wanted to take the wagon,” I said, watching absently as Cha-cha climbed onto Sara’s shoulder. “But my mom said it wasn’t reliable. I guess she had a point.”
“Give me five,” Cha-cha said.
Morgan, who was sitting on the couch, began shuffling cards. “Five-card stud?” he suggested to Sara.
“I could take the bus,” I said.
“What’s the hurry, sweetie? Is she that sick?” Jane asked gently.
I nodded. My throat was tight and my hands were trembling. I couldn’t tell them that I knew Izzy would be gone soon. I didn’t know how I knew. Something remote in her eyes that day at the beach, maybe. Even then, I could see she was leaving us.
“You know, they might not even let you in,” Jane said. “You know how hospitals are.”
“She doesn’t want to be there, Sam,” I said.
“I know.” He was clenching and unclenching his fists. “I know.”
“Aces high,” Morgan said.
“Nice caboose,” Cha-cha told Sara.
“Thank you,” she said politely, her eyes on me.
Morgan got up. He shuffled to the little bathroom that was separated from the main room by an accordion partition.
“If I had my car,” Jane said, “goodness knows I’d lend it to you kids.” She shook her head. “Maybe it’s just as well. Things like that aren’t pretty. Maybe it’s better you think of her like she used to be.”
Sharing Sam Page 11
