Chapter 13
I knew I should tell Aaron and my dad about my suspicions of Mom’s drug use, but that would have to wait.
Shortly after arriving home, Bronwyn picked me up in her mother’s minivan and we headed to Culver’s. We were both completely in love with their mashed potatoes. She also ordered a burger, and I a grilled cheese sandwich. We slid into the corner booth where she began filling me in on school.
“I should probably warn you,” Bronwyn said, stirring her gravy into her potatoes. “The cheerleaders want to put together some kind of tribute to Lony during the half-time show of the Homecoming football game.
“I don’t care. It’s not like I’m going to go to the game. Oh, crap! I can’t believe I flipped out over a stupid locker memorial. Everyone must think I’m insane,” I moaned, leaning my head on my hands.
“It’s okay, Cady. No one blames you for it. Honestly, they stopped talking about it already. You’ve been replaced in the gossip chain…Sarah Conlin got knocked up by Chad Buss.”
“For real?” I exclaimed. Sarah Conlin was the most popular girl in the sophomore class and the mayor’s daughter. Chad Buss was a goofy looking senior with only a double-digit IQ.
“Yeah, they’re neighbors, and I guess they’ve been fooling around in secret for a while. Now that she can’t hide the evidence, Chad’s been bragging about it all over the school.”
“God, I can’t imagine being pregnant at fifteen! I sort of feel sorry for her, but seriously, who doesn’t know about condoms these days?”
“My parents probably think I don’t,” she said with a chuckle.
I grinned.
“So…how are you feeling?” Bronwyn asked.
I held a spoon heaping with potatoes and gravy in front of me, turned it over and watch the contents plop back into the cardboard container.
“I don’t know. I mean, sometimes it seems to be getting a little easier, but then something will remind me of Lony and it all comes back. My mother is a completely different person. I can’t be near her without getting completely bummed out.”
She nodded and sipped from her Dr. Pepper.
“I’ve been trying to get out of the house a little more. Actually…there’s this new kid at school…Bryan Sullivan? I met him right before Lony died. Anyway, he’s sort of been helping me a lot.”
My friend’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What do you mean by helping?”
I filled her in about Bryan’s brother passing away and how he’d started calling me. I even told her about him being there for me the morning I tried to come back to school.
“So, do you like him? I mean, like a boyfriend?”
I blushed deeply and played in the mashed potatoes with my spoon. “I don’t know. He’s really a good guy. Cute. Seems smart. Plays guitar which is totally cool. But, I don’t know, it’s just not a good time for me right now to think about boys like that.”
She agreed. “I bet it’s nice to have someone to talk to who’s been through it.”
“Yeah… Oh, hey! You didn’t work at the shelter yesterday did you?”
“No. I’m not scheduled until Saturday morning. Why?”
I told her about finding the tumor in Lucy’s chest. I figured she’d hear about it from Gina or someone eventually.
“Weird,” she said, with a hint of skepticism creeping into her voice. “There has to be an explanation for it.”
“I know, but I don’t know what it could be. Maybe Dr. Kristy will figure something out.”
We finished our food and dumped the garbage in the trash can. We had time to kill before she had to go to church, so we stopped by the music store in the mall. As I was thumbing through the rack of t-shirts, I found one with two cartoon guys paddling a canoe down a river. The caption above the first guy’s head read, “Paddle faster. I hear banjos.” I bought one for Bryan, getting the guy behind the counter to help me guess the right size.
After leaving the store, I began to worry that Bryan would find my buying him a gift weird. I almost turned back to return it, but I decided to hold on to it and give it to him only if the right time came. If I chickened out, I could always give it to Aaron for Christmas.
Bronwyn dropped me on the curb outside my house. The evening air took on an autumn chill as night descended. My house was dark and foreboding. I checked the time on my cell phone. Only 6:20. The thought of spending the long evening in the House of Horrors made my stomach sick. I mentally ticked through my options then flicked out my cell phone to call my dad.
“Hi, honey,” Dad greeted when he picked up. “What’s up?”
“Um…I was wondering if I could come by and see your place.”
“Sure! Come on over. Want me to order some Chinese for us?”
I wasn’t that hungry since I’d eaten at Culvers only a couple hours earlier, but Dad sounded so happy by my visit, I told him to order me a couple veggie eggrolls.
When I hung up, I went straight to my car parked across the street, without stopping in the house first.
I parked behind my father’s truck in front of the brick eight-plex apartment building. My parents own a few different rental properties around town. Mom would find deals on investment property and Dad would fix the places up, so they could sell them for a profit. When the real estate market tanked a couple of years ago, they decided to hold onto the places they owned and rent them out, rather than take a loss on the sales. They purchased this particular building the summer after I finished eighth grade. My dad paid us kids to paint all eight apartments and hallways. I didn’t get that smell off of my hands all summer.
I rang the bell, and Dad buzzed me in.
“I’ll get you a key made next time I go to Menards,” Dad said as he opened the door for me.
I stepped inside and glanced around. “Still living in boxes?”
Cardboard U-Haul boxes stood stacked like skyscrapers around the apartment creating a skyline effect in the living room. The only thing that appeared to be put away was his extensive DVD collection which consisted of every John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Al Pacino movie ever made.
Dad grinned guiltily, running his hand through his thinning hair. “Guess I just haven’t had time to deal with unpacking yet.”
I shrugged off my jean jacket and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair. I recognized the oak dining set from my Grandma Nora’s house before she moved to Arizona a few years ago. When she left Iowa for a tiny condo in Scottsdale, she’d put most of the furniture from her large family-sized home into storage.
“Food will be here any minute,” Dad said. “Have a seat.”
I followed him over to the couch where I snuggled in and put my feet up. The comfortable sectional was also a relic from my Grandma’s home. It was strange to think that my dad lived here in this place. It was all just...too bare. All of the walls were off-white and the carpets beige. Hotel rooms have more personality than this place.
“So…” I said, feeling rather awkward and knowing he did, too, “maybe after we eat, we could get to work on fixing this place up.”
Dad nodded. “I was thinking, you know, if you want, we could fix up one of the bedrooms for you. It would probably have to be the small one, because Aaron may be moving in and if he does, he’ll want the bigger room. You know, living here full time.”
I nodded. “Aaron told me he wanted to move with you. Has he talked to Mom about it yet?”
Dad shook his head, “Don’t think so.” After a pause he added, “How is Mom anyway? She looked pretty rough today.” This trial separation was something they both wanted, but the tone of his voice made it clear he was still genuinely concerned about her.
I debated about what to say. If I told him the truth, that Mom was turning into a junkie hermit, would that be disloyal to her? But what if protecting her was actually a bad thing? I decided to just be honest.
“She almost never leaves her room, Dad. She drinks alcohol and takes pills and sleeps like fifteen hours a day.” I didn’t mention my suspicion about her using multiple doctors. I didn’t want to accuse her without concrete proof. I’d wait until I had a chance to take a look at those pill bottles. The prescribing doctor’s name should be on them.
Dad drew in a sharp breath, but he didn’t really look all that surprised. “Yeah, Aaron mentioned she was taking things pretty hard. Maybe —”
His thought was cut off by the tinny ringing of the doorbell. The food arrived. Dad took care of paying the delivery boy and brought the bag with him into the living room. I grabbed us two cans of soda from the fridge while he divided out the white take-out boxes between us.
I opened mine and let the steam escape from my egg rolls. Dad ripped into a package of chop sticks and began attacking his shrimp with lobster sauce. I picked up one of the crispy rolls and took a bite.
“Aw, man,” I cried as I dropped my egg roll back into the box and scrambled for the can of soda. My tongue juggled the chunk of egg roll around my mouth, trying to keep it from burning my tongue into a melted lump of flesh. The cold Pepsi washed through my mouth like heaven.
“Careful there,” Dad warned too late.
I set the food carton down on the end table. “I’ll just give that a minute.”
Something was off in the room, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. The temperature seemed normal, but cool breezes kept brushing my skin. The ceiling fan above me was off and none of the windows were open. Something else about the room was making me uneasy, worried. I pulled my sleeves down over my hands and crossed my arms in front of my middle.
“So,” Dad said, concern clouding his expression, “about your mother...I know you’re worried about her. I am too. Just because things aren’t working out so well with us right now, doesn’t mean that I don’t love her. What I’m trying to say here is that if you want me to —I don’t know —take some action, I will.”
My eyes narrowed, not sure whether I liked the sound of that. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well,” he said, setting his dinner down. “To be honest, my instincts are to give her some time and let her ride this out. Losing Lony…well, it’s been hell for all of us. I’m doing the best I can here, and I’m sure your mother is to, but if you think you might be in any…I don’t know…danger or something…”
“She’s not dangerous to anyone but herself, Dad.”
He nodded. He let out a relieved sigh, and with it, a breeze, slightly warmer than the room, touched my face.
“But I am worried about her,” I continued. “She’s mixing booze with those pills. That can’t be good. She stays in her pajamas all day and ignores the calls on her cell phone.”
Dad’s relief was short lived. He reached his hand up to rub the back of his neck. The coolness to the breeze was back.
“Do you feel that? That breeze? Where is it coming from?”
Dad held his hand up to check the air. “I don’t feel any breeze.” He shook his head and continued, “Well, I don’t think I can help your mother right now. She won’t even talk to me. Nora can’t do much to help in Scottsdale. Think I should go have a talk with her therapist?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. What about Aunt Tina? I know she’s your sister, but she and Mom have always been close.”
Dad nodded, contemplating that option. “We could try it. I’ll give Tina a call tomorrow. Just to be safe, I’ll call her doctor, too. He needs to know that she’s mixing her meds with alcohol.”
Part of me felt badly for telling on my mother. When I was a kid, I once got in trouble for telling a neighbor girl that Mom made Dad sleep on the couch after they had a particularly bad argument. Mom sat me down and lectured me on what happens in our house is no one else’s business, and I was not to tell tales about my parents to the neighbors. I had to wonder if this rule now applied to my father now that he no longer lived with us. I picked up my egg roll, now sufficiently cooled off, and began nibbling away.