Tiny Drops, Page 22

  “A bit,” I pause, thinking about my time with a pump. “It’s hard to explain, but I don’t like feeling even more dependent on something else. I know I’m dependent on the monitor and the insulin pens, but—I don’t know. It’s different. I’m glad those things are available, and they help so many, but it’s not for me.”

  She busies herself, opening the case to my monitor, quickly setting it up for me. “Here’s your poker.” She hands over the little contraption, all cocked and ready to go. “It’s loaded.” Her face is full of seriousness, as if a misfire could cause a catastrophe.

  I chuckle, earning a wrinkled brow in response.

  I grab it from her, the quake in my hand enough to reignite the panic I was feeling. I press the gun to my finger, and push the button, releasing the needle into the tip. I squeeze a small drop of blood to the surface and place it on the strip. Five seconds later, 37 is staring back at me.

  “Holy Moses,” Cassie says, eying the monitor screen. “Time for a drink,” she recovers with an easy smile.

  “Where did you girls run off to?” my mom questions, in that tone that only moms can master.

  I’m still working on mine; I’m hoping to improve once Charlie and Leila are older. Right now, there is just too much cuteness for a stern mom voice, but I’m sure they will help me perfect it as they grow.

  I smile, and Mom’s eyebrows crease. “What are you smirking about?”

  “Nothing, it was nothing, Mom. My sugar was a little low,” I say, hoping Mom doesn’t notice the hitch in Cassie’s left brow. Maybe it’s not genetic; maybe it’s environmental. She’s been around us all too long. Nope. She saw it because now hers is raised to match it. Here we go.

  “How low? Didn’t you eat? Honey, you have to eat more. You do too much.” She paces around the room of my studio, absently rubbing Leila’s back while she lectures me. It’s only the four of us in here. Everyone else already abandoned the small space for the ease of the outdoors.

  “It’s fine. I’m fine now.”

  “She is. I took good care of her.” Cassie smiles, bumping me with her hip. “Girl, this painting is gorgeous. Are you selling prints?” she questions, leaving me for the painting of my dream.

  I positioned it across from the big window. The evening light catches the silver perfectly, making it appear fluid in its journey.

  “Isn’t it something?” Mom joins her in front of it. “She’s so gifted.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll sell prints of this one,” I reply, knowing how well it would do if I did. It feels too intimate, though—a piece of me.

  I started posting art on Instagram last year and was amazed by the amount of people interested in it—in me. “I think it’s just for me.” I run my finger down the painting’s edge.

  “Wow,” a voice from the past says from behind us, making my palms prickle.

  I haven’t seen or heard from her in ten years. Not since the morning I pulled my swollen body up off her couch and left her place. I couldn’t chase her anymore, looking for answers I would never get. I finally realized she held the truth like it was her only power, and I’m not the type of person who’s comfortable being fed lies.

  I’ve never been more thankful for my mother and the ease in which she travels through life. “Jayden Marie Hart! Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re here!”

  As soon as the words are out of her mouth, I know she’s the one who set this in motion. I cast my eyes in her direction. She shrugs her shoulders, giving me a sheepish smile.

  “Jayden—wow. Girl, it’s been a long time, sort of like seeing a ghost,” Cassie says, wrapping her arms around her. She pulls back, hands on Jayden’s shoulders. “Let’s go get you something to eat, introduce you to the Captain.” She turns her around, the two of them leaving us standing alone.

  I take a moment, trying to gather my thoughts—they’re igniting like fireworks on the Fourth of July, scattering across the expanse of my mind so quickly I can’t grasp a single one. Luckily, I don’t have to.

  “You lost so many, so much. All of the people you held closest to your heart. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.” Her eyes hold mine, searching for a reaction. “I had to try and give you the only one I could, back. I know she hurt you, and her lies are insufferable. But you are the only person that girl has. We all have flaws, Brice. Luckily, the people who truly matter love us in spite of them,” she says. Passing Leila to me, she makes her way to the front door.

  I let her words wash over me as I snuggle my sleeping beauty closer. My mind escapes to that time, the effective way that I tried to cut off everyone that meant anything to me. Jayden was the only one I hadn’t let back in.

  Mom is right. It’s time to forgive and move on, time to grow and change.

  I glance up, surprised to see her standing before me.

  I take a moment and study how the years have changed her. Her once long hair is cut short now, a sharp line angling down her jaw. She holds herself differently. Instead of the scared little girl she used to be, a confident woman stands in her place. Our eyes meet, and we smile.

  “I missed you, Bri,” she whispers.

  “Me too.” I pause, trying to gather this string of words so they flow out smoothly. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. I know it was bad, whatever it was. But I want to know you now—no more secrets, no more lies.”

  Panic flashes through her blue eyes as she searches for her own words. “I can’t tell you the whole truth. I’ve made a life out of weaving lies, catching spiders in the webs I lay.”

  Her gaze holds mine while I try to sort what she said.

  “I can’t tell you much; I’ve sworn not to. Believe it or not, that’s an oath I’ll always keep.”

  What? I pull a deep breath. “I guess the only thing I can do is just love you anyway.”

  I laugh with this mysterious woman I know everything and nothing about.

  “I guess so.”

  We loop arms, stepping out the door. I pull Leila closer and let the laughter beyond carry us to the people I love.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Jay.”

  44

  New Friends in Old Places

  “Are you sure they hold meetings there still?” Harrison asks as he spoons a bite of carrots into Leila’s mouth. She giggles, causing half of it to spill from her cheeks.

  Six months have gone in the blink of an eye, and I doubt that time will slow at all in the next eighteen years. It will only gather speed like a locamotive, barreling down the tracks of life.

  “I don’t know, honestly. But if they don’t, at least I tried, right?”

  I know I could look online or call the library and find out, but I like it better this way—adventures unknown. I woke the other morning with the certainty that I needed to go back, reconnect.

  “Can we come, Mama? Can we, can we, can we? Please?” The spark of the idea grows to a blaze as I watch his face—so full of wonder for all things unknown.

  Harrison’s eyes find mine, and we have a whole conversation without words. He blows air through his lips, making Leila erupt into giggles again, before turning his focus to Charlie. “Why don’t we go explore the library while Mom meets with her friends?”

  “The library! I love the library! Is it time to go?” Charlie bursts from his seat at the table, running from the room.

  “Well, I guess dinner’s over.” I shake my head at Harrison.

  He shrugs his shoulders, giving me his easy smile. Life is like this now—easy, even when it’s not. The pain that held me for so long has finally let me take a full breath. My lungs are able to expand because the monstrous talons of grief no longer hold me in their clutches. I’ve broken free, allowed myself to heal.

  Stepping into the library, I pull the beanie from my head, stomping the snow from my boots. Charlie joins in, his enthusiasm apparent by the force of his stomps.

  “Ok, Captain, that’s enough. Remember the library rules.”

  I reminded him at least four times on the
drive over. Sometimes, his zest for life is hard to contain. Squatting down in front of him, I dust the snow from his captain’s hat and unzip his jacket.

  He steals my heart as he leans in, kissing the tip of my nose. “I hope you make lots of friends, Mama. I’ll be good, I promise.” He winks and gives me his dad’s easy smile.

  The well of tears I feel doesn’t surprise me. I’ve always had an ocean of feelings inside. Sometimes they grow so much, I have to let them out. I’ve accepted that.

  I stand up and give Harrison a quick kiss on the cheek before I turn my attention to Leila, who’s snuggled happily in her daddy’s arms.

  “I love you, baby girl,” I whisper, kissing her smooth cheek.

  “You’ve got this, Rice.” Harrison runs his free hand down my arm, giving mine a quick squeeze before letting me go.

  I stand, quietly watching as they disappear into the maze of rainbow-colored shelves. I lose the last bit of Harrison and turn my attention to the door to the left of me. I smile, remembering the first time I came here.

  My thoughts conjure the sound of his voice as he led me down the steps that day.

  “You’ll make a lot of friends here,” he had said. I never really let it come to that, but I have hope I still can.

  Walking into the large room with the fireplace, I see that it’s mostly empty. An older man and a young boy are the only two occupants. I turn to go, just as the man lifts his face from the table sitting between them.

  It’s J.C. Even though it’s been more than twenty years, his face is the same, age only showing at the corners of his eyes and the creases of his smile. “Are you here for the diabetes support group?” he asks.

  “I am.” I’m thankful my intuition was right, that they’re still meeting here. “I’m Brice, we met a long time ago.”

  “Brice! Oh wow, it’s been a long time,” he says with a laugh. “I remember you—you were Bernard’s friend. He talked about you all the time.” I see a flash of sorrow pass through his eyes. Bernard’s loss was felt here, too. “This is my man, Christopher. He’s new to the club this year.” He nods toward the boy across from him who turns to look at me, a shy smile on his face.

  He’s probably eleven or twelve. He has dark hair, and hazel eyes stare up at me from behind dark frames.

  “Nice to meet you, Christopher. I’m Brice.” I take a free chair at the table they share. “What are you playing?”

  Blue cards are laid out across the table, each card depicting an odd little creature.

  “Pokémon,” Christopher answers. The smile on his face tells me this is his game, not J.C.’s. “It doesn’t matter, though, we can stop. I was beating this old man, anyway. He’s got no game.” He laughs, and J.C. shakes his head.

  “It’s a game without rules, I tell you,” J.C. says, defending himself.

  “So, you have diabetes, too?” Christopher asks as he quickly begins to pick up the cards.

  “I do. In fact, I just had my 20th anniversary in November.”

  “Has it been twenty years? Crazy.” J.C. shakes his head. “Do you still talk with anyone?”

  “I haven’t. I wonder about Lori a lot, though. Do you know what happened to her?”

  “I actually hear from Lori all the time. She created a diabetes support group on Facebook. It has over five thousand members. She’s doing really well. I’ll write down the site for you before you leave. It’s a great place to find information and connect with others. I bet she’d love to hear from you.”

  “That’d be great.”

  The room lapses into an uncomfortable silence, and I’m surprised when Christopher’s the one to break it. “Should we give our suck and sweet?”

  “What’s that?” I ask, confused.

  “Something my mom started doing after she read it in a book. She goes around the table at dinnertime, making each of us tell the best and the worst thing that happened in our day. That way we connect with one another,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Why don’t you start.” I smile, liking this kid and his mom—the reader. Maybe I’ll make a few friends today.

  “My suck—my omni pod failed on me, and my sugar climbed to 347 before I figured out what happened. My sweet—it’s back down now, and I got to whip J.C. in a game of Pokémon.” He smiles, shuffling the cards in his hands.

  “What’s an omni pod?”

  “This.” He pulls up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a pod stuck to the backside of his arm. “It’s how I get my insulin. I don’t really like it, though, so my mom is working with the doctors to get me on something that will work better for me. I have a few friends in the online support group that love them, but it’s not for me.”

  “I get that. I was on the pump for a few years, but I went back to the insulin pens. I’m glad there are so many options for people, though,” I reply.

  “I’ve been on the pump for years now. It’s definitely made my life easier. What didn’t you like about it?” J.C. asks, his voice full of curiosity.

  “I don’t know…it made me feel more dependent on something other than myself. If that makes any sense.” I join my hands in front of me, feeling a bit foolish.

  “I could see that,” he replies, and I feel better. I always fear judgement, especially about my medical decisions. “As long as you have good control. Whatever works for you.”

  “That’s what my doctor says.” I laugh.

  “Hey, hey.” A woman with dark, curly hair walks into the room, her arms full of books.

  “Hey, Mom. The meeting isn’t over yet,” Christopher says, answering my unspoken question. “You can join us, though.”

  “I’m Cristy.” She sets the books down, offering me her hand to shake. “I thought it would just be these two. There hasn’t been anyone else for weeks.”

  “I’m Brice. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Type 1?” she asks, taking the fourth seat at the table.

  “Twenty years.” I smile into her kind face.

  She reaches over, grabbing Christopher’s hand, and I see the hope in her eyes. Hope for twenty years, forty years, a lifetime.

  The conversation ebbs and flows as the minutes tick by on the clock. By the end of the hour, I feel as if I’ve known them all forever, and I’m thankful for the dream that made me come.

  “Same time next week.” J.C.’s the first to stand from the table, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair. “I hope you come,” he adds, a sad smile on his face as he turns and begins his journey up the stairs.

  “I’d like that,” I whisper as the room empties.

  I clip the seat belt around Charlie and take my seat in the front, my heart full and thankful.

  I see Cristy and Christopher get into the car in front of us and laugh, noticing the familiar sticker on her back window—a large book that covers all but a black top knot held by a red ribbon. Diabetes isn’t the only thing that Cristy and I have in common.

  “Look,” I say to Harrison, pointing at the sticker. “She’s a nutcase, too.”

  His eyebrows scrunch together for a moment as he tries to make sense of what I just said. “That readers’ group you belong to?”

  “Yeah.”

  He reaches over, lacing his fingers between mine. “That’s great. I’m glad you made some new friends.”

  I bundle a sleepy Leila in my arms and sit in the rocking chair in her room. The soft glow from the night light is the only thing illuminating her tiny face. A big yawn escapes her, and our eyes lock, the gentle rocking our only movement.

  A small smile graces her lips as her eyes slowly drift shut. I continue to rock slowly, my eyes never leaving the beautiful face before me as my thoughts wander over my day. If the talons of this illness ever wrap their clutches around her or Charlie, I know I’ll find the strength I witnessed in Cristy today somewhere inside of me.

  I get up every morning and I fight—for myself—and all the people who love me. It’s not a fight I’ll ever be able to walk away from, and in a strange wa
y, I wouldn’t want to.

  This is my life, and every day I end it warrior strong. Because there is no other way. Not for me.

  The End

  Acknowledgments

  I want to first say thank you to my readers. This was a very personal story for me. I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes when I was 11. It’s been quite a journey. Last year I was having trouble with hypos (low blood sugar) that I could not raise (which is really scary) and began looking for answers in the diabetic community. I stumbled upon this amazing group ran by a woman named Lori. I really want to urge anyone who has a chronic illness to search out others like yourself. It is a great way to find help with things that no one other than someone living with the same condition will understand. That being said, here is the link for Lori’s group. https://m.facebook.com/groups/1601260853424557 It was joining this group that inspired me to write this book. I saw a post from a young lady who said, I wish I had the power to touch someone when my sugar is low and make them feel what I feel. Just for a minute. Then they would know. Reading her words, I realized that I do have that power. Through writing I hope that I have given you all a better understanding of this disease. I may not be able to give you the feelings physically, but I hope that emotionally I have.

  I want to give the biggest thank you to my family. Brian, Sebastian, and Cassidee. I can’t thank you enough for all of your support and love each and every day. Writing a book is no small project and it takes months and months of continual hard work. That work takes time away from those I love, whether I’m sitting at the computer or just lost in side my own head, but these three, they don’t complain. They stand beside me, encouraging me the whole time. You guys are the best, my life would not be complete without you and your love.

  Next, thank you to the PLN’s. Cassie, Leila, Julie, Crystal, and Stephanie. Thank you ladie’s for all of your support and encouragement all the way through. Having found you guys is one of the biggest gifts I have ever stumbled upon in this life. You are all so amazing and talented and I’m so happy to be able to call myself one of you. Erica, your knowledge and talent amazes me. You are so intelligent, thoughtful, and kind. I could never thank you enough for all of your help with this project. Kirsten, you are the best beta bitch ever, thank you for all of your help and feedback. Kat, thank you for the beautiful cover, you are such a gifted designer. Cristy, you are such an amazing T1D mom, your spirit and strength are so evident in your love for your son. Jen, thank you for coming through in a pinch and making the inside of the book beautiful. Becoming a PLN changed my life, so of course I have to say thank you to Tarryn Fisher, for bringing together such a strong kickass tribe of woman.