Arcadia's Gift Part 14

"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 s.h.i.+ning 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 b.u.mps.

"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 bas.e.m.e.nt 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 gla.s.s 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 k.n.o.b, 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 k.n.o.b 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 gla.s.s were scattered on the sink and the tile and glinted off of her skin.

"Holy s.h.i.+t, Mom! What happened?"

"Dun know...slip...outta nowhere..." she mumbled, her eyes gla.s.sy 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 gla.s.s 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 s.h.i.+elds 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 gla.s.s 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 s...o...b..r 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 gla.s.s 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 gla.s.s 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 s.h.i.+elds, 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 b.l.o.o.d.y 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 gla.s.s is out. If you make this hard on me or if you need st.i.tches, 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 pa.s.sed out cold in the chair. Maybe it was better this way. I lowered my mental s.h.i.+elds, 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 st.i.tches, 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 gla.s.s 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.

Chapter 22.

"I can't believe I let Bryan talk me into this," Aaron muttered as he straightened his tie in front of the mirror in our foyer. He agreed to the tie after fierce negotiations where I ended up agreeing to write his Great Expectations essay. "Who is this chick again?"

"Monica...something. She's Bryan's ex-girlfriend," I replied, fiddling with the strap on my heels.

In the days since "the incident" Mom refused to speak about it to me. When I'd come home from school the following day, she was asleep in her bed. A glance into the bathroom showed it to be perfectly clean. In fact, if it weren't for the missing mirror, I might have thought I'd imagined the whole thing. I started to smile, thinking my mom had it together enough to clean up after herself, but then I remembered the house keeper had been there that day. I groaned thinking of the horrible mess left for her. I called my dad and asked him to cut a check for the maid for an additional hundred dollars. He had sort of taken over the whole money thing for the household since Mom obviously wasn't doing it. He agreed to the tip without asking why, a fact for which I was supremely grateful.

Anyway, I hadn't had time to shop for a Homecoming dress, so that morning, after an hour of debating with myself, I'd raided Lony's closet. Her bedroom door had been closed since the funeral, entombing her citrusy scent inside. My heart hurt, as if breaking the seal to her room would somehow allow her spirit to leave us forever.

An eerie feeling snaked up my spine as I took in the familiar bedroom. Several clothing items were strewn across her bed and on the floor, reminding me of the three times she had changed before we'd gone out on the night of her accident. I fingered a cotton sweater on her bed, her first choice of outfit that night, and wondered whether things would've been different had she decided to wear this instead. We might have gotten out of the house ten minutes earlier, met up with her friends ten minutes earlier, maybe gone on the hike through the woods ten minutes earlier. We could have been a mile away from the tracks by the time that train rolled through.

Lony and I have shared clothes our whole lives, so going into her closet shouldn't have bothered me, but it did. I used to yell at her for taking my things without asking. Now, I was the one doing it to her.

"Sorry, Lon," I muttered out loud in case she could hear me on some level.

Lony's closet had enough clothes in it for five people, and all of it stuffed in haphazardly. I rifled through as best as I could until my fingers latched onto a dress that would work. It was the color of lilac blossoms and the fabric was just as delicate. The hem of the tiered skirt just barely reached the knee and the fitted top highlighted my figure. My sister had only worn it once, and that was to Cane's cousin's wedding or something, so I could get away with recycling it for a school event. After a little more digging, I even found a light jacket to pair with it.

Before leaving her room, I stole another glance around. I suppose at some point, my mother would need to get rid of Lony's things, although no one mentioned it yet. My eyes moistened at the thought of all traces of my sister being stripped away in favor of some generic looking guest room.

"I don't know why I even agreed to do this," Aaron complained for the four millionth time. "I hate dances! And things better not get awkward between you and this Monica girl. If this turns into a p.i.s.sing contest over Bryan, I'm coming back home."

"Don't worry about it," I said, a.s.suring my brother as much as myself. "Bryan says everything will be cool. Maybe you'll even like her."

Aaron sighed and mumbled, "Like that would do me any good with her living across the country."

I rolled my eyes. Whine much?

The sound of Bryan's car pulling into my driveway sent me to the mirror to check my hair one last time. I had curled the whole thing and pinned the sides up so that it cascaded down my back like a waterfall. I even put on make-up for the first time in forever. Although I hated to admit it to myself, part of the reason I wanted to look good was so I could hold my own next to Monica.

Aaron opened the door to let Bryan in. He was wearing a pair of black dress pants and a pale green b.u.t.ton down s.h.i.+rt with a silver tie. The leather scent from his long, black jacket added to his normal sandalwood, making my head light and fuzzy. In his hands was a small plastic carton containing a corsage.

"Whoa," he whispered. Sparks of happiness jolted off of him, making me blush. I guess he likes the dress.

"Thanks. You look nice too."

"Here," he said, getting the corsage out of the carton and tying it around my wrist. It was a white orchid threaded with streaks of purple mounted on a lavender ribbon. Once the bow was secured, Bryan gathered me in his arms for a long, slow kiss. The warmth of his affection ran through my limbs.