Tiny Drops, Page 20

  “Care to share your joke with the class, Mrs. Wade?” Harrison says, in his steel-wool voice, making me laugh again as the rumble of his timbre washes over me.

  “I was just thinking about this dress, and how it’s the only thing comfortable to wear now. I wish it was a little longer, so this rough, old couch wasn’t scratching the backs of my legs. Then the irony of thinking that anything at all is comfortable, when I could be my own continent… But my skin is still mini sized and…. Well, you get the picture.” I let out a sigh, trying to find a comfortable spot in a body that’s anything but.

  “You just have to embrace it.” He stands up, his hands moving to the button on his shorts. I laugh again as he releases it, his shorts falling to the floor. “Really feel the texture and put yourself back there. It’s all part of the experience. The first time I read his journals, I was totally naked. Fully immersed,” he deadpans, scooting back and forth on the cushion, burrowing in.

  “I wondered where that rash came from,” I reply, my tone matching his in seriousness. I love us and our ability to be totally ridiculous together.

  “All right, 1990s, here we come,” he says, rubbing his hands together in front of him before he pulls the lid off the box.

  I’ve been reading for hours, but I’ve finally reached it. Me. I knew I’d find myself here, in these pages, but I wasn’t exactly sure when. Would it be that first time I met him when my brother was carrying me to the car? Or that dinner party when our lives first became entwined?

  Turns out, it was neither.

  Jesse came over today to borrow some books and talk about life. His little sister was just diagnosed. It’s breaking his heart. He’s such a caring kid. He was surprised to hear that I have it too.

  I think it’s funny when people react that way. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard, “I thought only kids get that.” Like the result of being a kid isn’t growing into an adult. Like all kids with diabetes have Peter Pan syndrome. It’s funny how our minds work. He did better than most, though—knew more. I’ll give him that.

  I glance over at Harrison who’s lost in the past with me.

  “I found myself.” The words sound funny in the room that’s been quiet for so long.

  “You’re the main topic of discussion for the next ten years, babe. The main character of his ever-changing story,” he replies, not looking up from the words on his page. He chose the 50’s. Apparently, Bernard was pretty wild in his twenties.

  I turn my attention back to the spiral notebook that’s resting on the shelf that is my belly and lose myself in the memories of those first years. Some of the words leap from the page to be stored in my heart forever.

  She showed up like a salve for a wound that had been seeping for years. All other treatments haven’t touched it, but she’s miraculously doing the trick. Thoughts of Leila don’t hurt anymore. I didn’t think that was possible after feeling the pain for so long. Who knew what this old man needed was the friendship of an odd little sprite?

  She was angry today. Injustice is the gasoline that always seems to make her fire burn bright. But like anything fueled to burn, it quickly faded to ashes. I can always see the mark it leaves behind, though. It sits in the drop of her shoulders that are already so burdened by the weight of this life.

  She made me a painting. It’s the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen. I didn’t know what it was at first, but when she told me that they had looked at grass under the microscope in her bio class, and those happy little faces are actually the water ducts that live inside each single blade…

  I feel like cupid for two little lovebirds.

  Harrison came by today. He’s almost done with his first semester at Central. I’m so proud of him. He was always my favorite student. He gave me a letter for Brice. She’s going to be over the moon. My days were so gray before these two colored it with their love for one another.

  Jayden ran away. Brice’s heartbroken, and I can’t seem to find a way to make it better. Truth is, my heart’s in pieces too. Something must have been really terrible to cause her to go—without a word to her best friend. I pray night and day that she’s all right.

  She’s lost all color. Every now and then I see a glimpse of it behind the shadows in her eyes, but I fear that I’ll never see it fully return.

  Gloria passed last night. A low in her sleep. It’s what I fear every morning. I’m glad Brice always stops by on her way to school. Sometimes, I think she knows I need it. We’ve talked about it a few times—the nighttime lows. She says she always wakes up, heart thumping, in a cold sweat—how could anyone sleep through that? She laughed like my worry was ridiculous, but I saw the flash of fear in her eyes.

  Brice’s bracelet broke yesterday; green beads flew across the floor. We tried to find them all. I could tell by the way her eyes continued searching after we had given up, that some were lost. When she came over this afternoon, it was back on her wrist, only different. The lost beads had been replaced with black ones.

  Medicare denied my insulin today. I’ve been on the phone all day trying to get it straightened out. I’m glad I always fill before I’m out. At least it will give me a few days. I hope those assholes don’t make me jump through a thousand hoops to get it. I’m so tired of always having to fight to live.

  I’m so tired today. If it weren’t for Brice and her ever-present friendship, I might never leave this bed.

  My stomach rumbles, causing the words on the page to swim out of focus. Hearing the noise, Harrison closes the notebook on his lap and smiles over at me. “Sounds like my girls need to eat. What are you hungry for?”

  The truth is, I haven’t been hungry for much the last few days. I think it’s because I’m out of room. “Some fruit would be nice,” I say, the idea of it making me salivate.

  39

  Goodbye from the Grave

  It’s been a week since I first started reading Bernard’s journals, and I wonder for the thousandth time why I waited so long. I feel emotionally lighter than I have in years, and delving into his thoughts makes me feel as if he’s standing right beside me again.

  I fluff the pillows on my side of the bed, even though I know the action is pointless—no amount of air is going to keep my body from squishing that sucker flat the moment I lie back onto it. Giving up the futile task, I toss a swollen leg up onto the bed. With a Herculean effort, I pull my massive form up with it just as Harrison breezes out of the bathroom and joins me. The minimal amount of effort it takes earns him a glare. He laughs.

  “Do you want to die? Because I’ll kill you in your sleep and make it look like an accident,” I bark, hating myself as the nasty words slip out. I know it’s not his fault he has it so easy. I really hate this uncomfortable body I’m living in.

  “One more week, babe. That’s all.”

  “You say it like it’s nothing. You do realize that each day is equivalent to a year at this point, right?” I huff, causing the curl to spring free from my top knot.

  One of these days, I’m going to cut the sucker off. No matter how tightly I secure my hair, it always manages to break loose—as if its sole purpose is to drive me insane.

  Harrison snuggles close and rests his hand on my belly, causing our girl to graze the surface like she always does at his touch. “Any thoughts on names?”

  I stiffen as the question settles against me, lying like a wedge between the two of us.

  “We can name her when we’re holding her, you know that.”

  I wish he’d quit asking. I can’t do it. I cannot name her until she’s here. I couldn’t with Charlie, and I can’t with her. It’s just too much.

  “See who she is before we go choosing names.”

  He’s quiet as I lean over and grab the spiral notebook off my nightstand and begin to read.

  Brice,

  I’ve been writing to you for a while. I just didn’t bother to put your name at the top of the page until now. Words are easier to leave behind when you know that someone will care enoug
h to read them. I know it will be you sitting in the center of the vast sea of them that I’ve left behind. No one else has that kind of patience, except maybe Harrison. You two are two peas in a pod. They always say opposites attract, but I’ve never witnessed a love like yours before.

  I hope all of these ramblings bring you some sort of comfort, because I know how you’ll grieve for me. I’m sure it will resemble the way you love me—with your whole self, without apology. That’s such a rare gift—the gift of unconditional love. I hope that you cherish it and give it away again when your heart’s ready. I don’t know how I was lucky enough to be the one to receive it the first time, but I’ll be eternally grateful that I did.

  As I feel the number of days ahead of me dwindling down, I want to be sure that you understand how much your friendship has meant to me. You were the light in the dark for me, and you gave me purpose when I had none. Thank you for so many things: your beauty, your grace, and most of all—your kindness.

  Your friend,

  Bernard

  I close the book, its pages trembling in my fingers.

  “Did you know there was a letter to me in there?”

  Harrison eyes me warily, weighing his words before he speaks. “I did. I also knew that you’d find it when you were ready. It wasn’t for me to decide when that was.”

  “I left it for so long. I feel like I should have thought about him and you. Instead I couldn’t see past me—or her.” The words have been trapped inside me for so long, it feels freeing to let them escape into the room. “I’m sorry. For the way I treated you. I wasn’t strong like you were. I’m sorry for that, too…for how weak I am.”

  He reaches up, tucking the hair behind my ear, and kisses me gently. “You’re the strongest person I know,” he whispers, deepening the kiss at the end of his words.

  40

  Roller Coaster

  Glancing at the clock, I stifle a yawn. 1:35. I have twenty-five minutes before Stephanie should be back with Charlie. My eyes are so heavy. The dishes in the sink can wait.

  My body feels like it’s sinking through the sofa as I lie down. The world around me quickly fades to black as all light and sound are snatched by the darkness of my subconscious.

  “Mom!”

  I hear Charlie. He’s scared. Where is he?

  “Charlie?” The word tumbles out of my mouth—a sour dessert. Where am I? “Charlie?”

  “Brice, oh honey, thank God you’re all right. I was so scared for you. Are you okay? Do you feel all right? We should check your sugar, make sure it’s come up enough,” Stephanie says.

  She’s sitting beside me on the sofa, and I’m sitting up. How am I sitting up? My heart begins to race as the coffee table comes into focus, and I see all the wrappers.

  “What happened?” I ask. My mouth is so sticky and dry; I run my tongue across the roof a few times trying to create some bit of moisture. “Did I eat all that?” Please say no. It looks like Halloween night—haphazard wrappers strewn about, some with half-eaten bits of goodness still inside.

  Stephanie glances over at the table, seeing what I’m seeing, as if for the first time. “Shit! Brice, I’m so sorry honey, you were just so low. You weren’t making any sense, and Charlie said you needed candy, lots of candy. I just—I was scared.” She wrings her hands together, each clutching the other so tightly the knuckles are white—bloodless.

  “It’s okay. Thank you for saving me.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, the emotion springs free. Silent tears stream down my face. I can’t. My body feels so heavy, my thoughts incomplete.

  I shift, the weight in front of me confusing my senses even more. My hands grope my belly—my belly. Oh God. “Where’s my monitor?”

  “Momma, you were funny! You didn’t know anything!” Charlie is jumping around, trying to disperse his nervous energy.

  “Finger’s out of your mouth, Captain. Mom’s all right.” I try to ease his mind, but the words sound false to my ears.

  “Are you sure?” His eyes are full of sadness, laced with fear.

  The sound of the door opening prevents me from responding to the question I don’t know the answer to.

  Moments later, Harrison walks around the sofa, dropping his briefcase on the floor. “Are you all right?”

  His hands are everywhere all at once—on my face, across my shoulders…before they finally rest with mine, on top of my still abdomen. I can’t process any of this. I need a moment to think.

  “I need my monitor—”

  Before I finish the sentence, Stephanie’s handing it to me.

  I unzip the case and push the button, bringing it to life. 22—my last reading—flashes across the screen and my heart rate increases.

  I slide the strip into the slot, my fingers making quick work of the familiar task. Cocking the gun, I place it to my finger and discharge the needle. A tiny squeeze produces what I need. I place the drop at the end of the strip and hold my breath as the five seconds flash by.

  527.

  Oh fuck.

  The sound of the tub filling drowns out all other noise, giving me its own kind of silence for my thoughts. My hands cradle my abdomen, and I shake them every few moments. I need to feel her move. I won’t be able to breathe until I feel her move.

  Turning off the water, I lean back into the tub, trying to relax. Maybe I’m just too tense. Taking deep, calming breaths, I try to clear my mind of everything except the feel of the water lapping against me.

  She’s okay. She has to be okay. Please—please let her be okay.

  Harrison’s voice finds me through the walls. “You just… It was too much, Mom. I get it, though. I get it.”

  I imagine them standing in the kitchen beyond. Hopefully he has his arms around her. I hate that she’s feeling this way because of me. None of this is her fault.

  “The insulin will kick in, bring it down.”

  My hand makes lazy circles across my belly, silently willing her to respond. Come on, little one. Show me you’re okay.

  An elbow, or another body part just as sharp, scrapes across the inside, and I cry out, overcome with relief.

  The quick rap of knuckles against wood, followed by a sudden burst of air and energy, leaves me feeling exposed.

  “What happened? Are you all right?” His hair is a touch too long and, mixed with the anxiety painted across his face, gives him a disheveled look. I love it when it’s at this stage—right before a haircut.

  “She moved.”

  The anxiety morphs to confusion as he processes the two simple words. “But that’s a good thing, right?”

  “Of course!” I laugh as a foot, visible from the outside, stretches across the taught ball at my center. “Did you see that?”

  He drops to his knees on the hard, tile floor, grabbing my face in his hands, his forehead resting against mine.

  “I love you.” A whisper so soft fills the air around me as his mouth collides with mine, and I lose myself in the incessant night sky that is our love.

  41

  D Day

  The soft rumble of Harrison’s truck stirs the still air of the kitchen as I slip my feet into the tattered blue flip-flops sitting by the door. They’re the only thing I’ve been able to get into for weeks. It’s only 4 a.m., but the sky is already beginning to fill with light.

  I inhale the fresh, clean air that only early morning can bring and let it wash through me.

  Today will be a good day.

  If the possibility exists that my thoughts can control the outcome of the day, I will think as many positive ones as needed to get us through to the other side. In a few short hours, I’ll be holding her in my arms.

  I will be.

  I feel the dark, negative thoughts vying to get in, but I push against them. I won’t let them in. I won’t.

  Harrison opens the passenger door of his truck, standing by as I heft my swollen body up into it. There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t feel super-sized—even my hands are twice what they were before. Set
tling into the seat, I clench and release my swollen fingers in front of me and laugh, imagining them staying this size as the rest of my body returns to normal.

  “I’m surprised Charlie isn’t up yet. He’s so excited about his sister.” Harrison smiles.

  I can see the excitement he speaks of dancing in his own eyes. She belongs to us already. Every one of us. I inhale deeply and smile back at him, willing my excitement to shine more brightly than my fear. Fold it up, tuck it away—there’s no room for it here today.

  “He’ll probably end up sleeping in. He was up so late last night, silly boy.”

  I gaze out the window, the hop fields stealing my thoughts. The grid of ropes and posts stand straight in a line, creating beautiful vines that are just beginning to reach up toward the sky. Their bottoms are lush and green, the tops getting ready to produce the stout ingredient found in every ale. The crops have grown up around us as the years have gone by—alfalfa fields disappearing, replaced on every side by the thick vines; a more lucrative crop. By the end of August, our home will stand at the center of a heady jungle—the leaves and sprinklers providing a much-needed reprieve from the hot desert sun.

  Farm trucks and occasional pieces of equipment are the only vehicles passing by. They begin their work early, lessening the hours spent under the hot sun. I wonder about them, about the families they have at home. Do they have what they need? Men who work as hard as they do are rarely paid their worth.

  “Are you thinking about names? Can I get a hint? I know you’ve already got some picked out. You have to. I’m sure there has been a parade of names running through your mind since the day they said she was a girl.” Harrison chuckles, enjoying this game yet again.