Tiny Drops

“You’ve only had this disease for a little over five months now. Your A1C, which is a blood test we do to determine blood sugar control over the last ninety days, went from being a 15.7 when you were first diagnosed…down to an 8.8 now. That is amazing progress. Ideally, we would like it to be 7 or below, but the progress you’ve made is just what we want to see. They’re on the verge of releasing a new insulin that’s going to be a real game changer. As soon as they do, we’ll get you on it. Should be in the next few months. Until then, I would like you to stay the course and know this will get easier. Diabetes is a lot more than most people think it is. It’s challenging to learn how to control it, instead of letting it control you. I believe you’re on your way. Do you have any questions?”

  “Is there any way to stop having the lows? They’re really scary.” I hate the way my voice shakes when I talk. I sound like a child afraid of monsters hiding in my closet.

  “Frequent snacks are a must. I suggest eating at least every two hours. It doesn’t have to be a big snack. This will cut down on the lows. Do you feel them?”

  “Yes. I get really shaky, and my heart begins to race. Sometimes, I feel really weak, like I need to sit down. I almost always cry, and I hate it. I don’t even feel sad, usually. It’s like the crying is something that happens because of the low…have you heard of that before?”

  “An emotional response to the lack of glucose is quite normal. I’m sorry you respond that way. I know it’s probably quite frustrating, but it’s a very common response. The good thing is, you’re able to recognize your body’s triggers. This helps to keep you safe. Do you make sure to always carry something on you?”

  “Yeah, my first low I was by myself and I didn’t quite know what to do, so I’m always prepared now,” I tell him, thinking back to that moment with the milk and the graham crackers—the first day I truly knew what it was like to have this disease.

  “Good. Being prepared and paying attention to your body—and what it’s trying to tell you—are all positive steps toward managing this disease. I think you’ll do just fine, Brice. Do you have any other questions? Anything else you want to talk about?”

  I don’t answer right away. I sit for a moment, instead, and think about all of the questions I had. Now that I’ve brought up the big thing—the elephant that’s been taking up more than its fair share of room for quite a while now—all the little things have evaporated with it. Their absence has left me standing in the center of a stark, white, bare room with nothing to say at all.

  “No. Thank you, though, Dr. Banting…for taking me as a patient.” It was the only thing I could think of, and now that I’ve said it, I wish I could take it back. It sounds absurd—as if he chose me or something.

  “You can live a full and happy life, Brice. I’m happy to be able to show you how. It’s a privilege. Stop and see Judy on the way out. She’ll schedule your next appointment and give you a lab order. You’ll want to make sure you’re fasting when you get those done. Do it about a week before your appointment.” He pushes himself up from the little stool and begins walking us back out to the front.

  It feels more like a visit with a friend than a trip to the doctor. I’m really grateful to Bernard for recommending him. This is doable. My steps are light for the first time in months.

  The drive home is quiet. I think we’re both enjoying the absence of noise. My inner voice has been so loud lately, I’ve been lost inside myself. This is the first time in weeks that my thoughts belong to me, and I can take them wherever I’d like.

  I gaze out the window, taking in the long train of sleeping elephants that line the valley. Not real elephants, of course, but I always imagined them awake when I was sleeping, dancing through the night—only to fall back into the deep slumber of daytime. The hills don’t really move, and they’re much larger than a row of sleeping elephants would be.

  I’ve spent my life in the Yakima Valley. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine a world beyond it. The heat of the summer and the cold of the winter are as much a part of me as the hills that surround it. I can’t imagine calling any other place home.

  “I have to work in an hour. Are you going to Bernie’s tonight?”

  I hate nicknames. But, as much as I hate them, my mother seems to love them. She never calls anyone by their given name.

  “Yeah, I wanted to thank him.” I’ve never had a better friend. I love Jayden with every crazy hair on my head, but Bernard and I have kindred souls.

  “All right, honey, just don’t forget to check your sugar.” She smiles at me, and even though I know she’s just doing what moms do, it still stings a bit.

  “Love you.”

  I get out and run up the steps. I hate the winter, and even though it’s almost March, it’s still cold and white—or what used to be white. Snow is only pretty the day it falls; after that it’s this dirty, gray color from where our day-to-day lives have trampled and soiled it. I’m ready for the rebirth of spring.

  I get to Bernard’s step and blow the cold from my fingers before I ring the bell. I can’t wait to tell him how much I love Dr. Banting. I pull my hands back up to breathe on them again just as the door opens.

  I drop my hands. I can’t believe he’s here. Today is officially the best day of 1996, and it’s not even two o’clock.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice a throaty whisper that mortifies me.

  He smiles and those dimples show, and I forget all about my momentary despair. He loves me. Now that I know this, I can’t unknow it, and as much as it’s going to suck to wait the next two years, three months, and twenty-two days to be able to find out what that means—for now, simply knowing it is enough.

  “I was hoping to get to see you today,” he says, and I can hear the goodbye in his voice already. “How have you been? How’s school?”

  I grasp onto this line he’s thrown me and scramble to think of something honest to say—something that will give him a piece of me.

  “We’ve been studying cells in biology.” I take a deep breath, feeling my cheeks color…now that I’ve started, I have to finish. “Something about looking at them under the microscope makes me feel alive. Seeing how much life exists inside each tiny drop has awakened a part of me I never knew existed. I don’t know what it means, but I know it means something.”

  He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze reading every minute that’s gone by since we saw each other last. That’s the way it always is with him—a single look, and I’m his completely. Every last bit of me.

  “That’s amazing, Rice. It’s a great thing—knowing what it is that inspires you. I bet whatever you do with this, you’ll succeed. You were born for happiness.” The sadness in his voice is too much for me.

  “What about you, Harrison? What are you doing?” I don’t mean for the comment to sound harsh, but it does. I know he’s going, and I also know he has to, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

  “I got a job up in Ellensburg. I’m moving up this weekend. That way, I’m already settled when school starts. Honestly, Rice, I can’t breathe here, you know? I wish I could fill every day with you, but your brother’s right, I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I shouldn’t be laying all of this on you. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to him either.” His honey-colored eyes are almost golden, lit by a yellow flame.

  I step into the apartment. Bernard smiles, pushing himself up from the sofa. “I’m just going to go make some tea,” he says, walking toward the kitchen.

  I don’t know what to do. My arms feel heavy, and for a moment, I imagine them as magnets—attracted to him, pulling toward him with a force so strong, I can’t hold back.

  I step into him, and he opens his arms, welcoming it. We stand like this, wrapped together, for what feels like a heartbeat and a lifetime combined. Our souls mixing, so when he pulls back, a part of me will be with him forever. I won’t be whole until his arms are wrapped around me once again.

  “I brought you something,” Harrison says. Walking over to t
he coffee table, he picks up a book. He hands it to me. My mouth turns up as I run my fingers over the raised title of Remember Me Two.

  “You remembered.” I bump his shoulder.

  “I never asked…how was the first one?”

  “Oddly tied to the whole diabetes thing. I actually just finished it. It was too weird at first—just being diagnosed with this disease, then the first book I go to read is almost centered around it. I’m glad I finished, though. In true Pike fashion, the book did not disappoint.”

  As we stand here, making small talk, waiting for Bernard, I tell myself that I can do this—this is the kind of thing worth waiting for. Rome wasn’t built in a day. After all of these months of hearing it, I finally understand the true meaning of the words.

  Part 2

  2005 - Harrison

  19

  A Toast

  “To Harrison and Brice. As much as I didn’t like the idea of anyone looking at my sister the way that this guy looked at her, I couldn’t be happier to call him my brother.” Jesse holds his champagne glass up, looks me in the eye, and winks.

  I think he’s had a few glasses already, and knowing him, he’s just getting started.

  “I know he’ll take care of you, Brice,” he finishes, his voice catching on her name.

  She shifts forward, and I know his words have unknowingly pulled a scab off an old wound.

  I pull myself up, letting my fingers graze across her bare shoulders as I do. I raise my glass. “You’ve got it all wrong. She’ll take care of me—she’ll save me from myself every day.”

  I was looking at him when I started the speech, but now I’m lost in her evergreen eyes. I can’t help myself. I spent years holding back—eighteen to be precise. I’ve been in love with this girl since she was seven years old. I slowly run my fingers down her arm, goosebumps rising up behind them. I lean down and place the softest kiss on her lips. The moan that leaves her makes me wish the night were over. I can’t wait for her surprise.

  “Hey, hey, that’s enough of that—remember? She’s my baby sister.” Jesse laughs. His wife, Cassie, reaches up and pulls him back down into his chair.

  “I can’t wait to be alone with you,” I whisper to my wife when I sit back down. Mmmm, my wife. I can’t believe this is finally real.

  “Let’s dance first. You only get married once, you know?” She raises her eyebrow, and her front curl breaks free from the pins holding her hair. I tuck it behind her ear and lean in, touching my mouth lightly to hers. She opens up to me, and I deepen the kiss, our tongues doing a slow dance. As much as it kills me, I have to break away…before I can’t.

  I pull back slowly, tracing my hand down her arm as I go. I reach her fingertips and wrap my hand around them. She stands, surrounded by a cascade of ivory silk. She didn’t want white or tulle. Jayden told her she was taking all the fun out of it. I’m glad she rarely listens to Jayden.

  The ivory silk pools out onto the floor, causing tiny gold beads to dance like stars in the twilight. Her hair is up in a series of knots, with daisies tucked in here and there, and curls falling out in just the right places. She’s breathtaking, and I can’t take my eyes off her.

  I’d give up forever to touch you…

  The rest of the world falls away as I hold her in my arms, and we sway to the music—our music, our song, our life. This girl was made for me.

  “What are you thinking about?” she whispers, leaning her head on my shoulder.

  “The only thing I ever think about.”

  I hear the smile in her reply. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

  “You,” I whisper, leaning down and trailing kisses from her bare shoulder all the way up her neck.

  A low hum from the base of her throat is her only reply. I could live in this moment forever. “I love you, Rice.”

  She hates nicknames, all of them but that one—the silly name I gave her years ago. Her brother always called her Little Bit, and I couldn’t help but add of rice to the end of it. I was a twelve-year-old boy, so I thought it was hilarious—a play on Brice. I expected an outrage—foot stomping or something when I called her that. I hadn’t expected her cheeks to color, just barely, just enough for me to know that it warmed her. Then she turned her face up to me, and I saw the rest of my life in her eyes.

  It really freaked me out. I’d never had my soul connect with someone else’s like that. I knew we belonged together; our souls were made from the same ethereal mist. It wasn’t so much like falling for someone else as it was a coming home to myself—becoming whole again.

  “I have a surprise for you…”

  Her head snaps up, her left eyebrow nearly reaching her hair line. She’s adorable when she’s caught off guard. I take a mental snapshot and file it, knowing this will warm me for years to come.

  Jesse and I have been working on this during every free moment we’ve had for the last year. I couldn’t have done it without him. “I can’t wait to show you.” My voice is so quiet, I’m not sure she heard me.

  You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be…

  “Are we almost there?” Brice questions, fiddling with the silk blindfold I put on her when we left the reception at Jesse’s.

  He and Cassie live on a ranch out in West Valley. They have a beautiful home and insisted we get married there in their back garden. He knew every spare penny I had was going into this surprise, and there was really no way I could turn him down.

  I reach over and take her hand, slowly rubbing circles on her palm with my thumb. I feel her relax into the moment. We’ve only been in the car for five minutes, and we’ll be driving for about another thirty—opposite sides of the Yakima Valley.

  Sometimes I wish I found something suitable closer to Jesse’s house. But, when this house popped up, I knew it would be perfect. I got it dirt-cheap and started applying for building permits right away. Jesse had a few guys from his construction crew help out when they could, and together we built the guest house in the back. The property came with ten acres, but I decided to keep the new addition pretty close. Bernard is almost eighty, and his diabetes has become very frail. I don’t know how long it will be before we will need to move him inside. But I also know he needs his solitude. ‘When you speak to the dead, sometimes it’s easier when no one is listening.’ He told me that once, a long time ago when I asked him why he never tried to find someone to spend his time with. I never replied; the weight of his words had been too much to respond to. He has that affect on me often.

  “You never answered my question.” Her voice is a soft breath.

  I feel a ripple of worry, but try to push it aside. I know it doesn’t work that way. Pushing aside worry is the same as admitting defeat, and I’d never let this disease defeat us.

  “We have about twenty minutes—time for a snack. I know we didn’t get a chance to eat much dinner tonight and I’m starving.” I really am, but I know with all the dancing, she’s probably starting to dip. I let go of her hand and pull a container from the bag that’s sitting between us. “Can you open this blindfolded?”

  “What’s in here?” She reaches out, blindly grabbing for the container. As soon as she pops the lid, the sweet smell of strawberries fills the car, and I hear a tiny moan escape her parted lips.

  “I love you.” I could say it a million times every day and still feel like I can’t convey the depth of the words.

  The dark chocolate hits her tongue, and I imagine she’s lost in the succulent flavors filling her mouth. Everything tastes better dipped in chocolate.

  “Thank you for knowing I would need these. I should have eaten more, but every moment was so perfect, I didn’t want to miss a thing. Thank you, for all of it, but mostly these strawberries. I could’ve just had you and them and I would have called it the perfect day.” Her laughter fills the car, warming me all the way through.

  “There’s some orange juice in the thermos, too—if you need it.”

  I watch as she pulls it out, the blindness not slowing her
down as she brings it to her mouth. Her arms are trembling slightly, but I think we caught it in time. The blindfold was a bad idea. I’m sure if she wasn’t wearing it, she’d be checking her sugar.

  “You can take it off, Rice. It was a silly idea. Just don’t peek out the window.” I try to tease her. I know what this is going to do to her; hopefully I can stop it. “You can put it back on after.”

  She recaps the orange juice, her hands shaking more now—I’m sure it’s from the emotions, as much as the low blood sugar. She pulls her monitor out of her purse. It only takes about ten seconds before she glances up at me, panic dancing through her eyes.

  “27.” Her voice is barely a whisper. I see the first tear fall. I pull over into the Thriftway parking lot. We’re still about fifteen minutes from the house—it’s too far.

  “Let’s drink some more juice,” I tell her, grabbing the thermos. Opening it back up, I pass it to her. My heart’s racing. I imagine it matches hers, beat for beat. She’s told me it feels like her heart is trying to break free from her chest when she’s really low, and 27 is really fucking low.

  She takes the container, but instead of raising it to her lips, it slowly sinks down to her lap. I reach over and re-cap it. I don’t want it to spill. I’ve only seen her like this a few times. Usually she stays with me, and I rarely have to coach her. I release my seat belt and get out of the car. Walking around, I open her door, needing to be closer to her than the center console will allow.

  “I’m so sorry I ruined the surprise.” Her voice comes out in a sob, the words barely audible.

  I can’t deal with the emotions right now. I know they will subside once we get her sugar back up. At least she already had a chocolate strawberry, but I need her to have more juice.

  “You could never ruin anything,” I tell her as I open the juice back up and pour a tiny cupful into the lid.

  Her shoulders are heaving with her sobs.