Tiny Drops

  The look on his face is priceless—a mix of humor and confusion.

  “Doesn’t it feel that way to you? You have to feel it. Seriously, we could be gliding across water in this thing.”

  “You shut up and get out of my car,” he says, barely containing his smirk as he throws open his door. “Floating across the damn ocean,” he mutters striding toward the library. “Sounds to me like you’re calling my car a boat. Girl, what that car has is class. That’s a classy car back there.” He continues walking in silence, and now I can’t really tell if I upset him or if he’s just playing with me. I think it’s the latter, but I can’t be sure.

  The basement is full of noise as we reach the last stair. We aren’t the first to arrive this time. J.C. is talking with a young guy who’s standing with his legs planted wide, arms held tight across his chest.

  “They didn’t have a right to take my license. No one got hurt but me. I never go low. It was the ice cream…too much insulin for the ice cream.” He shakes his head.

  I hadn’t thought about driving since I’m not old enough yet. I couldn’t imagine going low while driving a car. How scary.

  Kristy and Lori are talking quietly to one another over by the fire, another woman with them. I drift closer to Bernard, unsure of myself with the new people here—I hadn’t expected it. I’m relieved when he heads toward the free chairs beside Lori. They’re a bit further from the fire than we were last time, but I still feel its warmth.

  I unzip my jacket and lay the dark green monstrosity across the top of my chair. I sit, causing it to slide down, momentarily covering my head before it drops to my lap. I blow out a huge puff of air. The hair that’s obscuring my view dances for a moment, but it’s not enough to get it out of my face. I push it back with my hand, but the thick, dark curl bounces free. My coat has stripped me of control; I’ll be fighting this sucker all night. I swipe at my wrist, feeling nothing—no scrunchie. How could I leave the house without a scrunchie?

  I hug Big Green, the quilted fabric comforting in my lap. When I glance at Bernard, he’s shaking his head.

  “What?” I whisper.

  “You. And those glorious curls of yours. Why can’t you just let them be free?”

  “They’re free. At this point, I couldn’t change that if I wanted to.” I slump further into the chair and rub the silken lining of my jacket. The softness helps to soothe my nerves, and my face begins to cool. I glance around the room, happy to see that most everyone seems to have missed my show.

  “You have gorgeous hair,” the woman that wasn’t here last week says. “I’m Gloria, by the way.” She points inward, a soft smile taking hold of her bright, kind face.

  “Nice to meet you, Gloria. I’m Brice,” I reply, taking her in.

  Her hair is silver and styled in a short pixie cut that accentuates her long, slender neck. The smile, that was but a whisper moments ago, blooms to its full magnitude, changing her from simple to stunning. It’s funny how a smile can do that—completely transform a person with just the tweak of some muscles.

  “Looks like we’re all here. How’s everyone tonight?” J.C. asks, walking to the chair directly across from the fire. “Kristy, how are Mom and Dad doing?”

  “They’re both well. Mom recovered very quickly. Dad’s off the vent now, and he’s healing with no sign of rejection. We’re hoping for a fast and complete recovery. If his body accepts this—” she stops and takes a big breath, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

  “What kind of surgery did they have?” I ask the room. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one here who doesn’t know.

  I’m surprised when Kristy answers, the emotion she was overcome with subsiding. “Sorry, I must have confused you with all of this. My mom gave my dad a kidney. Both of his were failing as a long-term complication of this God-awful disease. But, she’s given him life.” When she finishes, the slump in her shoulders is gone. She’s now sitting tall, pride gleaming in her eyes.

  “Wow” is all I can think to say. Now everything Bernard said makes sense. I hope one day I’ll know that kind of love.

  The conversation around the room continues, but I drift away on a sea of inner thoughts. I don’t know if I would want someone I love to give me a body part. What if something happened to them because of it? It must have been a difficult decision for Kristy’s dad.

  “When are you leaving?” Gloria asks Lori.

  I must have missed something.

  “Friday. I would have gone home with my mom when she left, but I wanted the chance to say goodbye to everyone here. Even though I’ve only been in the group for a few months, I’ve really enjoyed getting to know other people who understand.”

  “Why are you leaving?” I blurt out, even though it wasn’t my conversation. Mom says I have a bad habit of doing that.

  Lori looks at me, her eyes full of sadness. “I’m not ready to be so far from home.”

  “Can I have your address? I’d like to stay in touch.” I’m sad she’s leaving. I liked the idea of having someone closer to my age to talk to about all of this. Bernard is amazing, and I love having him right next door, but I doubt he would have advice on hormone changes affecting blood sugar.

  “Sure, that sounds nice.” Lori reaches into her purse and pulls out a little worn notebook and pen. She jots something down, rips out the piece of paper, and passes it to me. This act calms me considerably. I don’t mind goodbyes, as long as they aren’t the forever kind.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Better every day. I’m still worn out and tender around my kidneys. I’m not sure how long it will be before it all goes away,” she answers, clasping her hands together in her lap.

  “I was so sorry to hear you were sick,” Gloria says, putting her hand on Lori’s upper arm.

  “Thank you, Gloria. I made a mistake—one I’ll never let happen again,” Lori replies, casually brushing Gloria’s hand from her arm.

  “Does anyone have anything they want to share with the group tonight? Something you’re struggling with, or something you feel like you’ve conquered?” J.C. asks, bringing the attention back to the front.

  Part of me wants to talk to all of them about what the doctor said—that I’ll be dead by twenty-five. But I can’t, because even though we all have this one thing in common, it’s not enough for me to want to share something that shattered me so completely. I’ve only talked with Mom and Bernard about it. I couldn’t even say it out loud to Jayden, and she’s been my best friend forever.

  I look around the room at each of the people here. I tune out the noise of what’s being said and just watch them. They each have a story to tell. This illness hasn’t been nice to anyone, and the people in this room are no exception. The only difference is the people here have someone to share it with. I know it gives each of them comfort, but I realize, as I watch, that I’m not ready to share—this is all too much for me. If I was willing to open myself up to them, share my struggles, then I could keep coming. But I’m not. I can’t keep taking on the sadness this disease has brought to others. Not if I can’t give some of mine, too. I’ll suffocate under the weight of it.

  I feel prickly heat under my arms, my heart racing. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans, glancing over at Bernard. He sits to attention, his back flush to the chair.

  “What’s the matter?” He leans over. “Are you low?”

  “I need to go.” As soon as I say it, I know it’s true. I can’t breathe in here. I need out.

  I stand quickly, hugging Big Green to my chest. “I’m sorry, we have to go.”

  I rush to the stairs without making eye contact with any of them. I throw open the big library doors, a huge rush of cold air meeting me. It calms my overheated skin. Taking in a big breath, I relax against the rough brick on the side of the building and close my eyes. The sun warms my skin. Winter sun is my favorite kind—a promise of warmer days.

  Bernard is standing quietly beside me when I open my eyes. I love him for not walking out in fro
nt and blocking my moment with the sun.

  “I don’t think I’m ready for this yet. It’s too much.” The words come out broken. I hope he understands.

  He puts his arm around my shoulder, gently leading me to the car. “People come and go from the group all the time. It’s not for everyone. Even though our time as friends has been short, I’ve learned many things about you. I’m observant. We have that in common.” He drops his arm to unlock my car door, opening it for me. I slip inside and take in a calming breath. His car smells clean. I don’t know if that’s exactly a smell, but I can’t pinpoint anything else. It’s just clean.

  He climbs in, buckles his seat belt, and starts the ignition before he continues. “I think you’re the type of person that feelings stick to. You’re lucky for that in a way. You feel life in a way that many others don’t, but there are two sides to every coin. You may be blessed with feeling life more deeply—more beautifully, in a sense—but life can be tragic. It can be easy to feel as if the emotions are drowning you.”

  We drive in silence until we are almost to the apartments before he begins to speak again. This might be his longest dramatic pause yet. “I know all of this because I’m one of those people, too. I’m just in a different place in life now than you are. One day, a group like this might be exactly what you need in life. It’s perfectly okay if that time isn’t right now.”

  “Thank you for being such a great friend.” It’s true. His words soothe me, each and every time. “I’m going to have to tell Jayden that she’s been replaced.” I giggle as he glances over at me with his eyebrows scrunched, mouth in an o.

  “Don’t you dare go hurting that girl’s feelings,” he scolds me, and the world seems right side up again.

  17

  Tattered Souls

  “Let’s go over there,” Jayden says, nudging me with her foot. Her back is against the inside of the couch arm, feet toward me. I’m sitting cross-legged, facing her. She’s staying the night.

  “What? Why?” I don’t want to take her to Bernard’s. He’s mine—I don’t want to share. Jayden is pure light…it’s easy for her to over-shine everything.

  “The way you talk about him. I can tell he means a lot to you…” She holds out her hand to examine the nails she just filed, her mouth tipping up just a bit. “And you mean a lot to me, so I want to get to know him. Are you embarrassed of me? Why don’t you want me to hang out with you guys?” She slumps back against the couch, her forehead wrinkling as she tugs at her bottom lip.

  “Jay…” I unfurl from my crisscross position and smack her shoulder. “Look at me.”

  She’s glancing down at her lap. She’s losing herself to insecurities and self-doubt. I can’t imagine being Jayden and being anything but completely self-assured. The girl is gorgeous. I know that’s not the only way one measures self-worth. I’m sure having the one person who is supposed to love her the most in the world always choosing the party over her has taken its toll. Once she finally glances up at me, I do the one thing I know will make her feel better. I give her the truth.

  “I’m worried once he gets to know you, he’ll like you more.” Now that I’ve said it out loud, it sounds ridiculous. “You’re just too cute. It’s maddening.”

  Her laugh mixes with mine, lightening the air around us.

  “Come on, let’s go. I’m sure he’ll love the company.” I bounce to my feet and hold my hand out to her, pulling her up from the couch.

  “Should you check your sugar?”

  “Jay, you don’t have to remind me. I’m not a child, all right?” I regret the words as they leave my mouth. It’s hard—constantly having people hovering over me. Always reminding me, as if I could ever forget. I know what I need to do and when I need to do it. My mom, my brother, my best friend—they all have this way around me now. They treat me as if I’m fragile, delicate, and breakable. I hate it. I’m just me…I don’t want to be anything else. Bernard and Harrison are the only two people left on the face of the earth who look at me and just see me.

  She sighs dramatically, steps in front of me, and puts her hands on my shoulders. We are almost identical in size, but our similarities stop there. “I just really care about you. You’re like a sister to me. I can’t lose you, Brice.” She bites her lip as her Mediterranean-blue eyes become liquid pools. I cave, wrapping my arms around her.

  “You’re right, I’ll check it. I’ll bring my insulin over to Bernard’s, too. He likes to feed me dinner. But I don’t need you to tell me that. I fully understand the responsibility, okay?” I smile, hoping she’ll understand what I’m trying to say.

  “Okay, I’ll try,” she says.

  I leave a quick note, letting whomever comes home first know where we are…although it should be a given. I love Bernard’s place, and if no one’s around, that’s where I usually am. It’s perfect.

  185.

  “Isn’t that a little high?”

  This is another thing I hate—feeling like I’m being judged by my number. She probably wouldn’t see it that way at all, but that’s what it feels like to me.

  “It’s a bit. I’ll just do an extra unit of insulin with my dinner and lay off the carbs. It’ll be fine.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince—her or myself.

  I grab my insulin and a needle, and put them in my bag along with my meter—just in case. I pretty much have to take it all with me all the time. I wouldn’t want to need it and not have it, even though it’s just across the hall.

  “Let’s do this,” Jayden says, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the door.

  I slide my feet into my new slippers (Mom got me a pair of hard-bottomed ones after my old pair got ruined) and grab my fuzzy, green hoodie off the coatrack. Slipping into it, I lean against the door as I wait for Jay to put her boots on. She’s never been one to hurry. It’s almost as if she walks through each step in her mind before she repeats the process here—in the real world. As if she unzips the boot mentally before her hand ever touches the zipper. At least that’s what I assume happens because there is always a three-second delay in between everything Jayden does.

  Her second boot is zipped, and she has her coat in hand, so I open the door. There’s nothing like a little action to speed things up. She’ll take it off as soon as we step inside, anyway. I’m saving her a step.

  I ring Bernard’s doorbell, glancing at Jay. Her cheeks are flushed, and I can tell she’s a bit bent about my sudden departure. “Sorry. You were taking forever,” I say, sheepishly.

  “I didn’t know we were in a hurry.” She huffs.

  “It must be my lucky day,” he says, pulling me in for a quick hug. He’s a hugger. I don’t mind because I am, too. “Are you girls hungry?”

  “We haven’t had supper yet,” I answer, my stomach a hollow ache that follows a long-ago meal. I didn’t have a snack after school, and it’s almost six. I’m not sure why my sugar’s high. I never know—it rarely makes sense.

  “I’ve had chili cooking all day, and I was just getting ready to slip the cornbread in the oven. I was hoping you would join me. Now it’s even more of a treat because you’ve brought your friend.” He smiles at Jayden, reaching his hand out to her.

  “That sounds delightful,” Jayden replies, leaning in for a side hug. She’s not much of a hugger, but she makes do. “I hope we didn’t impose. Brice always talks so highly of you; I told her it wasn’t fair to keep you all to herself. I think it’s time she shares.” She winks at me.

  Bernard opens the door wide, and we step into his magical place. The bookcases are eclectic, and in many different sizes, scattered around the room. In one corner, he has two the same height which stand side by side with another one resting, staggered, across the two. The front room is a book lover’s dream. The first day I came here, I did nothing but circle the room, taking in all of the titles, while compiling a list in my mind of ones I wanted to borrow…if he’d let me. He simply sat on his sofa with a pleased smile, letting me soak it all in.

  I know
it’s going to have the same effect on Jayden because the one thing she enjoys almost as much as making up stories, is reading them.

  “You’re a book lover, then,” Bernard says with an amused smile.

  She drops her coat inside the door. Without a word, she steps up to the case closest to her, reaches out her hand, and slowly slides her finger down the title on each spine.

  It’s not just the books. There’s a feeling in the room. Like it’s a secret place where words go to rearrange themselves and become new stories—forever tumbling and shifting to reveal an ever-changing tale. And yet, the heart always remains the same. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before, but now I understand what transpires here when I’m not around. “You write, don’t you?”

  He shakes his head, quietly chuckling. “You surprise me more and more each day.” He walks closer to me.

  Jayden is lost within herself, reveling in the stories surrounding us. This place is a tiny slice of heaven for those of us with tattered souls.

  “So, what gave me away?” he whispers, a childlike sparkle dancing in his eyes.

  “Wait! You do write?” I want to sit and soak in every word he’s ever penned to paper—every hastily scratched bit; every long, drawn-out story; and every forgotten sentence. I want all of it. This is an opportunity to know him completely. I can’t wait. “Can I read it?”

  “Most of the time it’s just my thoughts. The tired ramblings of a lonely, old man.” He laughs, but I see the truth in the sadness that washes in like a wave at the end of his chuckle. “There’s nothing of any value for a young girl like you in there. I did try my hand at a couple of stories, though. I sent them out, but never heard back. I suppose it was worth it just to tell the story—even if nobody reads it.”

  “I want to read it,” I say, louder than intended. “I really, really do.”

  I’m holding my breath waiting for his response. I don’t know why I’m so certain he’ll say no, but I’m crossing everything that’s crossable in hopes I can change his mind with will alone.