Chapter 21
As I pulled into the parking lot outside the shelter, my brain trembled with a full blown migraine. I accepted some pain reliever from Jinx before leaving her house, and she assured me that the ache would go away soon, but I wished I could go home and crawl into bed. I was ready for this day to end.
Bronwyn’s car was parked in the lot, too. The mortification I felt at lunch seeped back. God, how could I have let Bryan lead me on like that? I chastised myself silently for not asking him about his girlfriend status when we first started talking.
Maybe, I’d get lucky and Bronwyn wouldn’t bring it up.
“Hi, Cady,” Gina said as I walked in the front door. She had her school books splayed out in front of her on the front desk. She worked at the shelter as a vet tech while in veterinary school.
“I can watch the desk for you,” I offered, knowing that it was Gina’s least favorite job.
“Nah,” she replied, biting on the end of her pen. “It’s been really slow today, so I don’t have much else to do. Dr. Kristy is doing paperwork and Bronwyn was waiting for you to come so you guys can walk the dogs together.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
I stopped by the break room to stash my backpack before heading out to the kennels. At the sound of the door hinges, the dogs went nuts, barking and wagging their tails to get attention. Bronwyn was refilling water dishes that had been drained or tipped over during the day.
“Hey,” I said.
“Oh, hi,” she replied, the compassionate look on her face echoed the soft waves of worry coming from her. “How are you? I tried calling.”
“Oh, yeah. My phone’s off.”
Her brows crinkled together in reproof. “So you haven’t talked to Bryan then?”
I sighed. “No, and I’m not going to either.”
“Cady —”
“Save it, Bron,” I snapped a little louder than I’d intended. I felt a twinge of hurt flash off Bronwyn, but it was gone just as quickly. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes to the heavens. “Okay, fine. But I want the record to reflect that I think you should hear him out.”
“Noted.”
I walked over to the leash cabinet and began untangling a few that had fallen to the bottom. By the time Bronwyn finished with the water bowls, I had six dogs leashed up and ready to go.
“So,” she said, as the dogs tugged us along in their excitement. “You haven’t told me how school is going for you since you’ve been back.”
What could I say? While not as fanatic as her parents, Bronwyn’s faith in religion was pretty strong. She wouldn’t even read the horoscopes in the newspaper because she believed they were demonic. How would she react to the revelation that I could feel her emotions vibrating off of her whenever she stepped within my aura field? Would she think I’m possessed or something?
I just shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess. No, actually, it sucks, but I can feel it getting better.”
“Understandable,” she replied. A lab mix that I didn’t know spotted a squirrel and yanked hard on her arm. “Patch! Stop it!”
The errant dog ducked his head and fell back in step beside her. With the subject of Bryan off limits, we settled into an easy conversation about school gossip. After suffering through the wild emotional mood swings brought on by other people, it was nice walking through the woods with my best friend. I’d always thought of her as an even-keel, peaceful person, but now I had firsthand knowledge to back it up. Her cheerfulness brushed along my skin with soft, steady touches. Only when the dogs did something naughty did they stir, like a pebble in a pool of water. I almost felt normal again.
After making our circuit three times with different sets of dogs, we brought the animals inside for the night, tucking them into their indoor kennels. To my pleasure, Bronwyn didn’t mention Bryan again. That was one thing I really loved about her. She never pushed me to talk about things I wanted to avoid.
The peaceful feeling brought on by my best friend was lost the moment I pulled into my driveway. This time, I had no one else to blame for my nervous heart palpitations. Bryan sat on my front steps, the porch light shining down on him as he sat playing some game on his phone. He put it away and stood as I approached.
“Hi, Cady,” he said. He genuinely felt miserable. I could feel it pooling in my gut. Good.
“Bryan,” I replied with a tightness to my voice. I was in no mood to go easy on him, no matter how badly he felt.
He jammed his hands in his pants pockets. “I’ve been texting you all day.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t reply.”
“I didn’t read them.”
He shook his head and gazed at the ground between our feet. His frustration was making my arms break out in goose bumps.
“Cady, will you just give me a chance to explain?”
I placed my fists on my hips. “Fine. You have exactly one minute, then I’m going in to bed. I’ve had a long day.”
He sighed. “Look, Monica and I dated for a few months before I moved here. It wasn’t even all that serious, but we’d been friends before that and when I left, we decided to go back to being just friends.”
“But she’s flying halfway across the country to go to a stupid dance with you? Yeah, that sounds like just a casual thing a friend might do.”
Bryan’s posture slumped and sparks of annoyance shot out from him. “Before school started, I was miserable here. Didn’t know anyone or have anywhere to hang out. I was so bored!” He ran his hand through his hair and blew out a heavy breath from his mouth. “I spent pretty much all of my time on Skype talking to my old friends. Monica had this idea that it might cheer me up to have a date for my first Homecoming here. Her family has money, so it wasn’t that big of a deal for her to score airfare to come out for a weekend. I only agreed because I was lonely.”
Recalling how lonesome Bryan had appeared that first afternoon in the library, my indignation started to falter.
He must have sensed it, because he stepped forward to take up my hands in his and continued. “She booked the tickets months ago, before I even met you. I’m not even all that into dances and things, but if I have to go, I’d rather it be with you.”
The sincerity in his voice was intensified by the warmth in my belly. I hated to admit it, but I could see his point. How could he let this girl come all of the way out to Iowa to see him and not take her to the dance?
“I don’t know why you’re explaining to me anyway,” I said in a huff, “It’s not like I have some claim over you.”
“You don’t?” he asked with a playful grin. “I’d say you have plenty of claim over me.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and drew me to his chest.
The proximity of his scent and the warmth of his sentiment won me over. Being in direct contact with his skin made it impossible for me to resist. I lifted my arms up around his shoulders and rested my head on his chest, his heart thumping in time to the waves of affection that he was unknowingly sending through my body. We stood there holding each other and swaying slightly with the breeze for a long moment.
“So,” he whispered into my hair, “I think I have a solution for my little dance predicament.”
“Hmm?” I replied with my eyes closed so I could concentrate on the beat of his heart.
“Well, I have a plan, but I’ll have to fill you in on it later. I need to get home now. My mother wants me there for dinner tonight. Joy. Joy.” He rolled his eyes.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you later,” I said, rising on my tip-toes for a kiss before he left.
Once inside the house, I shucked my shoes and went to the kitchen to fix something to eat. I was squeezing the unnaturally-orange-but-incredibly-tasty cheese into the pot of boiled macaroni when Aaron came bounding up the basement steps.
“Hey,” he grunted, dipping his finger through the river of fake cheese and licking it off.
“Ew! You better have clean hands.” I shoved him away.
He laughed. “Just took a shower.”
His hair was damp.
“Do you want any?” I offered.
“Nah,” he said, tying his shoes. “Going over to Trent’s house for a Call of Duty marathon.”
“Maybe you should try a homework marathon one of these nights.”
“You’re so funny!” he mocked before running out the door.
I was pouring mac and cheese into a bowl when from upstairs I heard the clatter of shattering glass and the boom of something heavy falling on the floor. Mom! Abandoning my bowl, I ran up the steps two at a time and burst into my mom’s bedroom without knocking.
“Mom?” I called out. The flickering light coming from the TV was the only light in the room, but I could see her bed was empty, the covers pulled back and resting half on the floor.
A moan sounded from the direction of the closed bathroom door.
I knocked, my other hand poised on the knob, ready to fling it open. Tendrils of fear, self-loathing and pain snaked through from inside, threatening to cut off my breathing, but around the edges of the emotions I detected the fuzziness of intoxication.
“Mom, are you okay? Can I come in?”
I heard her mumble something and then the word “fine.” She didn’t sound fine. I turned the knob and opened the door.
On the floor next to the shower, my mother was sprawled out naked and dripping blood from dozens of tiny cuts all over her arms, hands and torso. Silvery shards of mirrored glass were scattered on the sink and the tile and glinted off of her skin.
“Holy shit, Mom! What happened?”
“Dun know...slip...outta nowhere...” she mumbled, her eyes glassy and her hands flailing wildly. The wall above the sink held only an empty frame, making the room feel small.
I leaned in, careful not to step on glass in my stocking feet, inspecting her wounds. From my vantage, none looked overly serious, but each trickled several inches of crimson fluid. My mother’s eyes drifted closed, and she continued to mumble unintelligibly. She was a mess, but she’d survive.
Frustration began to overtake my worry. I concentrated on bringing my emotional shields up and locking them into place just as Jinx taught me. I knew I’d end up with one heck of a headache later, but I didn’t need Mom’s depression and drunken stupor killing my post-Bryan buzz.
“Mom, we have to get you out of the glass before you cut yourself more.” I reached to help her up, but my hands slipped on the rivers of blood trailing her arms. This wasn’t going to work.
“Don’t move.”
I ran to the bedroom closet where I yanked on a pair of my mother’s tennis shoes. Grabbing a pair of slippers and a bathrobe for her, I hurried back to her side.
Mom cried, snot and slobber rolling down over her chin. I bent to put the slippers on her feet. I may have had the right and left mixed up, but at least there would be some protection for when she stood up...if I could get her to stand anyway.
My nose wrinkled at the scent of blood and alcohol and unwashed body. With my eyes averted as much as possible from her nakedness, I brushed the loose glass from her skin and wrapped the robe around her. “Come on, Mom, work with me here...” I grunted, trying to thread her arms into the sleeves while she continued to fidget.
When she was reasonably covered, I took a towel down from the rack and swept as much of the glass away from her bare legs and bottom as possible.
“I need to get you to the bedroom, Mom. You have to stand and walk.” She nodded, but her eyes were closed, and I had doubts whether she really understood.
Standing behind her sitting form, I gripped my mother by the underarms and began to lift. “Mom, stand up. That’s right, move your leg...no, the other one...that’s good...”
With Herculean effort, I managed to get my mother into her bedroom and deposited onto a reading chair in the corner. She slumped back like a ragdoll, all loose limbed and boneless. The blood was going to completely ruin the powder blue upholstery, but I couldn’t care less.
“Stay here,” I told her. “I’m going to call 911.”
“No!” she yelled.
With the jolt of her fear pounding against my shields, my head snapped around to look at her. The word must have shocked her too because her eyes flashed a moment of lucidity before she collapsed into another fit of sobs.
“Don fine me lik dis,” she slurred.
My heart cracked remembering my mother as she used to be, the perfect picture of the career woman, all manicured and styled. Could that really be her slouched in front of me, her bloody robe open, her papery skin hanging on her emaciated skeleton? Had she always been gray? Regular hair appointments ensured I’d never seen her roots before, but now almost an inch of ashy growth framed her face.
No, I couldn’t let anyone find her like this.
“Fine, but you have to work with me here. I’ll need to inspect your cuts and make sure all of the glass is out. If you make this hard on me or if you need stitches, I’ll have to take you in to the hospital. Understand?”
I realized I was talking to her like she was a child, but she nodded and tried to sit up straighter.
“Be right back.”
I returned a few minutes later, arms loaded with first-aid items to discover my mother passed out cold in the chair. Maybe it was better this way. I lowered my mental shields, not needing them anymore. A sharp headache immediately ricocheted through my brain, setting my teeth on edge. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself. I turned on the overhead light and dragged over a reading lamp so I could spotlight in on any glints of mirror. Starting at her shoulders and working down I cleansed, disinfected and bandaged. Several times I had to use the tweezers to fish shards from her skin. Thankfully, none of the cuts looked deep enough to require stitches, but she would have lots of scars. I made a mental note to pick her up some of that scar reducing cream next time I went to the grocery store.
At some point during my ministrations, I had to drag my mother to the floor so I could reach her backside. When she was cleaned and wrapped like a mummy, I turned her on her side, tucked a pillow under her head, and covered her with a blanket. I considered cleaning up the mess of blood and glass from the bathroom, but I was tired, my head pounded and part of me wanted her to see the mess she’d made when she sobered up.