Tiny Drops, Page 6

  “It’s quite magnificent, isn’t it?” Bernard asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

  “It is. Can anyone come down here? It looks like the perfect place to read.”

  Bernard smiles. “It’s open to the public, except when they have meetings.” Stepping closer to the fireplace, he holds his hands out to the flames. “Trouble is, they have meetings almost daily. There’s a schedule upstairs.”

  “Hey, hey, there he is.” A man walks into the room, straight toward us. Bernard lets out a soft chuckle. He’s wearing a baseball cap backwards. It gives him a youthful appearance that makes placing his age impossible. He has a few days’ worth of scruff on his face, but it doesn’t hide the deep dimples in his cheeks when he smiles at us. I like him already. He puts his hand out to Bernard, and when they shake, he pulls him in for an embrace.

  “And who do we have here?” he questions, doing his own survey of me.

  “Brice. I’m Brice,” I say, stepping forward with my hand out. I’m surprised when he pulls me in for a hug like he did with Bernard, moments before.

  “J.C. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brice. How do you know this old man?”

  “He’s my neighbor—and friend.”

  “So, are you here to support him? Or are you a member of the exclusive club?”

  “Excuse me?” I ask, confused.

  “Are you a type 1?” He laughs. “I’ve always felt like it’s a secret club… Other people couldn’t join, even if they wanted to.”

  “Oh.” I let out a laugh of my own. “Then, yes, I’m a member of the club.”

  Because we arrived first, Bernard and I have the pleasure of sitting by the fire. I run my hand over the rough texture of the chair. How can something so abrasive be so comfortable to sit in? We helped J.C. arrange several chairs from the room in a semicircle around the fireplace. The only thing to do now is wait for everyone to show up. I wish I knew how many people are coming. Taking a deep breath, I count the beads circling my wrist. Twenty-two—my lucky number. Did she do that on purpose?

  I glance at Bernard, surprised to find his eyes closed.

  “Are you okay?” I whisper, worrying about his health. In the week that we’ve been hanging out, this is the first time I’ve even thought about his health. The realization leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. This man has done nothing but show concern and friendship for me. I hadn’t even thought to ask him how his health was.

  Just as I stand to go to him, he opens an eye and smiles at me. “Don’t mind me. Sometimes being an old man means that random cat naps happen, especially when I’m in a place that feels as comforting as this.”

  I sink back into my chair, relieved. “How’s your health?” I ask, before I let the moment slip away from me.

  He sits up from his relaxed position and leans side to side, stretching his back. “I’ve nothing to complain about. Complaints never make anything better; they just compound it, give it strength, make it bigger.” He smiles. “Concentrate on the good. It makes life better.”

  “So, you’re not going to answer me, then?”

  “I’m alive, that’s answer enough.” He laughs, causing me to shake my head.

  Glancing over at the doorway, I see the first person has arrived.

  “Lori, what a pleasure!” Bernard jumps up from the chair with youthful joy, taking her hand in both of his, grasping it tightly.

  She’s probably Jesse’s age, or a bit younger. The dark rings under her eyes speak of sleepless nights. What’s her story?

  “We missed you last week,” she tells him, pulling her hand back. “Everything all right?” Her eyes do a quick search of the room and settle on me. A slow smile spreads across her face, causing her eyes to light up.

  “Just busy. Even in retirement, life is always moving. Sometimes the current doesn’t go the way you want it to, but this time I was lucky. I got a new friend,” he tells her, turning his attention to me.

  I’ve been sitting on the edge of my seat, not sure if I should stand or not. But, now that he’s looking at me, I spring to my feet, self-conscious.

  “Lori, this is Brice,” he says, looking back and forth between the two of us. “Brice.” He nods toward me. “Lori.” Back toward her. “Brice, here, is my new neighbor. And friend.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” I smile, unsure of myself. This is what I hate about being social—I always feel like I need to fill space but never know what to say. I glance down at my black Docs, the sight of them reminding me of Jay, and I smile again. I can’t let her win all the time…have to draw a line somewhere.

  “It’s great to see a new face. I’m not the newbie anymore.” She takes a moment to scrutinize my face, her expression soft. She leans toward me and asks quietly, “Are you diabetic?”

  “She was diagnosed last month,” Bernard says, answering for me. “She’s been a warrior about it.”

  I don’t really know what to think when people say stuff like this. I hardly feel like a warrior or brave. That’s another thing I hear all the time now, ‘You’re so brave. I couldn’t do it.’ I think that one bugs me the most. Of course, they could—if they had to.

  “Glad to hear it,” Lori says. Turning her attention to J.C., she continues, “Is Kristy coming? Did you hear how the surgery went?”

  “I haven’t heard anything.” He leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “I always figure no news is good news in a situation like this,” he finishes, his expression calm, words easy.

  “I hope so.” Lori sinks into the chair beside him and lets her purse drop to the ground.

  “How many people normally come?” I ask, sitting back down.

  “It depends—” she pauses, as if to mentally count the people she’s met in this room, “—but the most we’ve ever had since I started was eight. It’s a pretty small group. Most of the time, there are four or five of us.”

  “Sorry I’m late guys,” a woman says, coming into the room.

  She’s beautiful. You can tell she lives a happy life; it shows in her dark, almond eyes. She quickly makes her way to the chair beside Lori and takes a seat.

  Lori leans over and asks, “How’d it go?”

  “It went okay. Dad’s still in ICU, but everything looks good, and Mom is doing great. She’s so strong. Two days after major surgery, and she’s already up moving around.” She pauses her story when her eyes meet mine, and she tilts her head to the side before continuing. “We have someone new? I’m Kristy.”

  “Brice. It’s nice to meet you.”

  I hope this is it. All of these introductions are making me uncomfortable. They all seem so easy and relaxed with one another. I’m an outsider. I hope I don’t have to tell my life story.

  As if the thought was plucked from the air, J.C. says, “Why don’t you tell us about yourself, Brice? What brought you to the meeting tonight?”

  I swallow past the lump in my throat, trying to decide what to say. “Well, Bernard brought me.” Wh,y exactly, did I agree to come? “I guess I just wanted to meet other people who understand all the things I’ve been dealing with. I can’t voice my feelings with anyone else,” I finish, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. I wish I hadn’t sat so close to the fire.

  “Well said.” He smiles again, and I notice for the first time that he has a syringe tucked behind his ear. The sight of it makes me laugh, and I place my hand over my mouth to muffle the noise.

  They all look at me expectantly. I straighten in my chair. “Your syringe.” I nod toward him. “It caught me off guard. Sorry.”

  He winks. “I like to catch people off guard, that’s why it’s there.” He reaches up and pulls it down. “Plus, I always like to be prepared.”

  “I was about your age when I was diagnosed,” he says, taking over. Thank goodness. I’d much rather hear their stories than have to tell my own.

  “I used to do this just to mess with the kids at school, and truthfully, I enjoyed the attention. I don’t do it anymore, but I thought it might help brea
k the ice for you tonight.” He glances down at the needle in his hand before he continues. “Growing up with diabetes is weird.” His eyes meeting mine. “It changes the way you think, who you are. The strangest thought is knowing that you could die…like now. That definitely changes the way you think. The way you feel.” His smile is light and easy, despite the weight of his words. “I think we all understand that here.”

  “For me, sometimes the hardest part is the overwhelming support and care,” Kristy says, her face serious and full of emotion. “It’s like all the extra care and support just makes me feel guilty. Because I know they feel it all so much too.” She stares at her hands, folded in her lap. Her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath, struggling with the emotions. “I guess I just love them so much, that I wish they didn’t have to struggle with all of this, too. Sometimes it gets to me.” When she glances back up, her eyes are bright pools of unshed tears.

  “Yeah, I totally get that,” I say, thinking about my own family and what I’ve put them through since the beginning of all of this…and it’s only been a month. My blood sugar gets low so often now, and each time is so different, it feels unpredictable, like at any moment it could happen and turn a regular day into its own strange battle. They all react quickly, set to pounce on this disease and tell it who’s boss. Sometimes, it’s pretty easy for me to take care of on my own, but there are times when it really gets me. Those ones are the worst. The times when I’m simultaneously happy they’re there to help me through, and guilty, because they have to be. So yeah, I totally get what she’s saying.”

  I hold her gaze for a moment, struggling for words. “I hate feeling helpless.” I pause… Is that even what I mean? “No, that’s not right, it’s not helpless. I’m not sure exactly how to describe it.”

  “There’s no one here that hasn’t felt what you’re feeling at one time or another. Finding out that you’ll have to deal with this for the rest of your life is a lot to take in,” Lori says, her voice encouraging. “Just say whatever you’re thinking. We’ll all understand, and it’s good to get it out.”

  “It’s like I’m fragile now. My mom used to go on and on about how responsible I was, that she had nothing but trust for me. Now, it’s like she doesn’t trust me anymore.” I stop and take a drink of the tea J.C. brought me. “That’s not entirely true either, though. In my mind, I know that’s not true; it’s this disease she doesn’t trust. But it’s like this disease is me now, and I’m it—there is no dividing line…so it feels like she doesn’t trust me.” A strangled laugh escapes me echoing oddly through the room. “Just ask Bernard, he’s been my main babysitter since we met last week.” I reach up, swiping the stray tear from my cheek. I hope they didn’t see it.

  “Babysitter? Is that how you think of me?” Bernard shakes his head. “And here I thought we were friends.” He reaches over, taking my hand.

  The hour passes quickly, and when we leave the room, I’m a little lighter than I was before we came in. And tomorrow, Lori is going to come get me. She wants me to go to some radio competition bingo game with her. If she wins, she’ll get a new Toyota Tercel. She seems like a nice girl; I enjoyed talking with her and since I don’t have anything else to do, I thought it would be great to get to know her better.

  10

  Bingo!

  “Well,” I say into the phone as I glance at Harrison. He tilts his head to the side, eyeing me with curiosity. “Maybe we can still go. Hold on just a sec.”

  I put the phone down on the counter and turn to him. “Lori’s car won’t start. Would you maybe want to take us?”

  “Sure, I don’t have anything going on today. Sounds like fun.” He smiles, causing dimples to grace his cheeks.

  “Thank you!” I squeal, throwing my arms around him.

  He pats me awkwardly on the back. I come to my senses and let him go.

  “Sorry, I just really wanted to hang out with her. I’m intrigued. I mean, sure, I have Bernard to talk to about the diabetes stuff, but I would like to get another teenage girl’s perspective on everything.”

  “You may want to pick the phone back up then, before she thinks you hung up on her.” He laughs, shaking his head.

  “Oh, right.” I grab the phone from the counter. “Lori, my friend said he can take us. Will that work?” I take the notebook from beside the phone, jotting down the directions as she gives them to me. “Sounds good. See you soon.”

  “Thank you, thank you! A million thank-yous,” I say, dancing out of the kitchen to put my boots on. “Are you sure you don’t have any plans?” I holler from the front room.

  Every time he has a day off lately, he spends it with me. The teenage girl in me hopes it’s because he’s secretly in love with me. But, the objective thinker knows it’s because he’s worried about me spending time alone. Maybe it’s a little of both.

  “This is it.” I point to the building marked with a big letter D on it.

  Harrison pulls into a free space in front of the building. I release my seat belt and open the door, putting my feet out just as Lori appears at the bottom of the stairs. The dark circles under her eyes look more pronounced than they did yesterday. I wave my hand and she smiles, giving a quick wave back.

  I slide to the center of the truck, making room for her to climb in, a jolt rolling through me when the exposed skin on my wrist grazes Harrison’s hand. Does he feel it too—the electricity that dances between us every time our skin meets?

  “Thank you both for coming to get me,” Lori says as she closes the door. “I know I don’t have very good odds of winning, but there are only ten players, so it’s worth a shot. Plus, now that my car isn’t working, I need it more than ever.”

  “How’d you get a seat to play?” Harrison asks, pulling out onto the main road.

  “I’d been trying to get a seat for weeks. Calling every time I heard the tune on the radio. I finally managed to get through as the tenth caller the last time.”

  “Lucky break,” he replies. Glancing her way, he smiles, his dimple coming out to play.

  My stomach rolls and I bite my lip. Was this a bad idea?

  We pull into the Valley Mall parking lot, and I see where they have the stage set up at the far end, next to the outdoor restrooms and concession stands. Red, white, and blue balloons are flying from each corner of the stage. Chairs are set up in front of it for the audience.

  When we get out of the truck, Lori sways a bit and grabs the door for support.

  “Is your sugar okay?” I ask, unsure if I should or not. I don’t know if it’s proper diabetic etiquette. I hope I didn’t offend her.

  “It’s fine. I’ve just had a kidney infection. I think I’m over it now, though.”

  “That sounds serious. Are you sure you’re all right to do this?” Harrison asks, coming around to our side of the truck.

  Lori’s silent for a moment. “I’m sorry, what were we talking about?” she asks.

  “Your health,” I supply, growing more concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Of course, I’ll be fine.” She waves off my worry, and the smile that lights up her face makes me feel like maybe I was overreacting.

  “I’m surprised that they’re holding this outside in the middle of winter,” Harrison remarks.

  “I know. I’m cold already.” I rub my hands together, blowing into my palms.

  “Why don’t you guys get some seats? It looks like they have big heaters set up over there, and I’ll see you as soon as it’s finished,” Lori tells us, turning to head to the stage.

  “We’ll be rooting for you,” I call to her as she fades into the growing crowd.

  “Do you think she’s really all right?” Harrison asks as we take the two seats closest to a heater.

  “I hope so.” I put my hands out to feel the warmth from the red glow. “I noticed the dark circles under her eyes yesterday, but today they look even worse.” I jump as the speaker that’s positioned to the right of us lets out a loud squeal.

&n
bsp; “Sorry about that, folks, I just wanted to take a moment to introduce myself and our ten players before the game begins. I’m Shawn Michael, and I’ll be hosting this event. One of these lucky participants is going to drive out of here in this brand-new beauty—” he pauses, sweeping his arm out theatrically toward the shiny, red Toyota that’s sitting directly beside the stage. “Contestants, when I point your way, do me a favor and call out your name.”

  “I’m Anna Finkelstein, and I’m so excited to be here!” a lady in a fuzzy pair of earmuffs and a bright pink coat says. Her cheeks are rosy, and her eyes are full of merriment, and I hope as I witness her joy that if Lori doesn’t win, Anna does.

  I close my eyes, tuning out the noise as Shawn Michael continues his playful banter with the contestants and crowd. I let myself feel the moment. I’ve been overcome with the need to do this a lot lately. The need to close my eyes and feel—feel the way the air moves around me with a spark of energy on its tail. The sensation of the warm sun on my back, despite the cold air that’s biting my cheeks. Something about this disease has made me want to be grounded yet fully immersed in every moment. Each day is more precious as I learn to navigate as this new me.

  Electricity sparks to life when Harrison reaches over. Taking my hand, he gives a quick squeeze before letting it go. My eyes fly open, shocked by the contact from him. What did he think—seeing me sitting this way, with my eyes closed, face turned to the sky?

  I dare a glance in his direction, and he leans over, whispering in my ear, “You’re beautiful.”

  My face flames as a horde of locusts are released inside of me, their movement causing such a stir of emotion, hope, and excitement, I can barely contain myself. I don’t want to look at him…can’t look at him. The only thing I can do is take his words, write them on a piece of paper in my mind, and slip them into the box that holds my favorite memories.