Fallout

The need to know is

  a worm

  slithering through my brain.

  I tried to bring it up last

  night, when he was fighting

  his own sleep demons,

  working

  up a tobacco-infused night

  sweat. Both of us tossing

  worry, I asked, “Did you make

  this trip for me or for you?”

  His

  thrashing stilled, like he

  thought about feigning

  dreamland. But then a low

  sort of growl exhaled from his

  core.

  HE SAT UP IN BED

  A dark silhouette against

  backlit blinds. And once

  he started to talk, it all

  came spilling out. I’ve

  spent the last fifteen

  years hating your mother.

  That hate came from love

  left to rot in my gut like roadkill

  in summer. You know why

  I ended up back in a cage?

  Because I didn’t give

  a half damn about anyone.

  Rob ’em? Why not?

  Rough ’em up? Hell, yeah.

  Because it made me feel

  in control. Never was,

  though. What I couldn’t see

  was that hate controlled me.

  HE PAUSED THERE

  And I thought he would stop

  without telling me what I still

  wanted to know. “You haven’t

  answered my question.”

  Because I’m not really sure.

  I think it’s wrong that Dad

  and Cora kept you from

  knowing your roots. Just

  wrong. I want to fix that if

  I can. But I also want to see

  Kristina again. Maybe I can

  quit hating her then. At least

  I’ll have a chance to tell her

  what the last fifteen years

  have done to me. I was dead

  inside. And then I saw you.

  A piece of me, so full of life.

  I came a little alive too.

  ALL THAT TALKING

  Seemed to wear him right

  out. He settled back down

  in bed. Boulder dropped

  into sleep. Guess clearing

  his conscience tuckered

  him out. I, on the other hand,

  had no such reaction to

  all that confession. Strange

  voices bypassed my ears,

  whispering straight into

  my brain. Dead inside …

  hating her … a little alive.

  I remembered something.

  It seemed a memory buried

  deep in toddlerhood.

  Mommy? Daddy? Glimpses

  of slat-shadowed faces,

  screwed up in rage. Screaming.

  I hate you. Door slamming.

  Pillow over my head against

  the noise. Scrambling for breath.

  MY HEART STUTTERED

  With sudden clarity.

  I’m not crazy.

  The relentless feeling

  of panic started there.

  In my parents’

  love-fueled hatred

  for each other. And

  me. I bet they

  hated me because

  I kept them together.

  Drove them

  apart. Reminded them

  of what they should be,

  and how incapable

  they were of being it.

  THE REST OF THE NIGHT

  Was lost to the voice

  of the wind calling

  down over the Sierra.

  Something familiar

  about that keening,

  too. Some part of me

  longing to hear it again

  after all these years.

  I listened for hours,

  until finally it calmed.

  And in the lull, doubt

  lifted, a ghost shrugging

  off flesh. Nothing stays

  the same. So how can

  you trust anything?

  How can you believe?

  I got up, went into

  the bathroom. Arranged

  the toiletries by color.

  Rearranged them by height.

  But there weren’t enough

  of them to make the job

  important and in that

  way, make me matter.

  IN THE BOLD LIGHT

  Of morning I wonder if I count

  for anything at all. Christmas.

  It’s early here, but Texas time

  is two hours later. I find my cell,

  buried in the oversize bag

  holding my clothes. Later I’ll call

  Bryce to wish him a merry Christmas

  and maybe share some special

  news. But he’s probably sleeping.

  Instead I call a familiar San Antonio

  number. No answer. Worry punches

  at my gut. But then I remember.

  Aunt Cora doesn’t live there

  anymore. Grandfather? Probably

  with her in Austin. I have to

  scratch deep in my brain to

  find the right combination

  to make the phone ring there.

  Liam answers, too cheerful.

  Well, hello there, world traveler.

  Merry Christmas to you.

  Nevada is hardly the world.

  But I don’t say so. “Can I

  speak to Aunt Cora, please?”

  Liam puts down the phone

  to go get her, exposing

  the handset to background

  noise. Off-key singing. A chorus

  of laughter. Voices I know,

  and some unfamiliar, a strange

  blend of old and new, all

  around Aunt Cora and

  Grandfather. Homesickness

  swells. And not a small amount

  of jealousy. They are there.

  I am here. Where I swore

  I wanted to be. When Aunt

  Cora picks up, all I can say

  through the tears is, “Just

  wanted you to know I miss

  you. Give Grandfather a kiss

  for me. Gotta go now.”

  I COULD LET TREY SLEEP

  But the desire to escape

  this room is driving me crazy.

  “Wake up,” I urge. “The day’s

  a-wasting.” It’s one of Grandfather’s

  favorite sayings, and that wave

  of homesickness crests.

  Trey shakes off sleep reluctantly.

  But when he sees my face, etched

  with expectancy, he goes into

  the bathroom to shower. I get

  dressed again in my one nice

  outfit. Brush out my hair. Put

  on my shoes, and within one very

  long hour, we are ready to go.

  We are barely out the door before

  I decide my cute Texas-friendly

  ballerina-style flats aren’t exactly

  suitable for snow. Especially not

  snow like this. “Oh!” The word

  disappears in a puff of steam.

  “It’s just so … beautiful.” Everything

  is carpeted white. Morning sun glints

  off the clean, mostly undisturbed

  drifts. Traffic beyond the parking

  lot is light. Slow between the giant

  piles of plow-pushed powder.

  Definitely a whopper of a storm.

  Looks like it’s moved on for now.

  My clothes are Texas weight,

  and I shiver beneath them. But

  a strange feeling floats down

  over me. It’s a flurry of calm

  I’ve never felt before, and worry

  dissipates. Whatever happens,

  I know somew
here in all this snow

  I’ve found a missing piece of me.

  Summer

  ADVENTURE OVER

  Kyle’s truck is totaled. And with

  it, our dream of playing house.

  I guess somewhere deep inside

  I knew it would come to an end.

  Just didn’t know how quickly.

  At least we’re alive. Relatively

  unscathed. It could have ended

  a whole lot worse. Kyle will have

  to stay in the hospital a couple

  of days. Long enough for his dad

  to collect him. Oh my God.

  He was pissed. But not nearly

  as pissed as he would have been

  had Kyle’s blood work shown

  him to be under the influence.

  And, despite what Kyle believes,

  beneath his dad’s overt anger,

  a large dose of relief was obvious.

  I may not be in a position to judge,

  but I think he cares about Kyle.

  As for me, bruises. Contusions.

  But no broken bones. Nothing

  punctured or torn. You were

  exceptionally lucky, the ER nurse

  said. Good thing you buckled up.

  Damn good thing, actually. Also

  good they let me stay here overnight.

  Waiting room chairs aren’t the most

  comfortable things to snooze in,

  but they’re better than the kind

  that come with too many questions.

  Like those in police stations.

  I get up from the one I’ve been

  in for too many hours, wander

  down to Kyle’s room, peek through

  the door. Kyle snorts in his sleep.

  God, he’s cute, tangled in dreams,

  a thick drift of hair across his face.

  Whatever happens to me, I hope

  he doesn’t get into too much trouble.

  TWO NURSES HUSTLE PAST

  Laughing about something.

  The noise rousts Kyle from

  wherever sleep has led him.

  He yawns as his eyes open, try

  to make sense of the surroundings.

  Finally they focus on me. Hey.

  He smiles. Tries to sit up in bed.

  And then reality crashes around him.

  Come over here. What time is it?

  I point to the large clock on the wall.

  “Little hand on the seven, big hand

  on the five.” I draw alongside the bed.

  He reaches for me, winces. Okay.

  That hurt a little. Pain or no pain,

  he takes hold of my hand. Squeezes.

  And it hits me that we may not be

  holding hands again for some time

  to come. My throat knots up

  and my eyes burn. Kyle notices.

  Hey, now. Everything’s okay. Well,

  except for a couple of broken bones.

  Tears begin to fall in earnest.

  “But your truck is history. So

  is Mammoth. And what about us?”

  I don’t care about my truck.

  Don’t care about Mammoth.

  All I care about is you. If any-

  thing bad would have happened

  to you, I would never have forgiven

  myself. This is all my fault.

  “No it’s not. Anyway, nothing bad

  happened to me. You’re the one

  with the broken bones, remember?”

  He smiles. Hard to forget. Except

  when they want to hold you.

  Kind of like now, for instance.

  My entire body heats with a warm

  flood of love. But the truth of things

  tempers it. “What will happen to us?”

  He quiets me with a kiss. I don’t

  know. But whatever happens, I swear

  we’ll still be together. Somehow.

  WE LEAVE THE “HOW”

  To the future.

  Settle for being together

  right now. In this moment.

  I’m pretty sure

  I won’t see him again for

  a while. Maybe a long while.

  We’ll celebrate

  Christmas safe and warm,

  at least. Not buried by snow.

  After that,

  and after the truth

  of our situation emerges,

  we’ll just have to see.

  GRANDPA SCOTT

  Reaches the hospital around ten.

  I see him wandering down the corridor,

  looking for me. Age has not

  much diminished his fair good

  looks, and the nurses smile

  appreciatively. I nudge Kyle.

  “There’s my Grandpa Scott.”

  Kyle locks eyes with Grandpa,

  who stands outside the door,

  assessing. He doesn’t like me.

  “He doesn’t even know you.

  How can he not like you?

  I mean, he might be a little

  annoyed. But he’s here.”

  I go give him a giant hug. “Thanks

  for coming. Sorry you had to drive

  all this way on Christmas.”

  He draws back to give me

  a good once-over. Are you

  sure you’re okay? We’re just

  happy you weren’t hurt.

  “I’m fine, Grandpa. Someone

  was watching out for us, for sure.”

  After quick introductions, Grandpa

  excuses himself. I’ll go take care

  of the paperwork. We should

  probably hit the highway soon.

  Was good meeting you, Kyle.

  I don’t want to leave, but I know

  I have to go. I give Kyle a long,

  sweet kiss. “I wish I could stay, but …”

  No. Go on. We’ll talk when you get

  back…. He pauses there. Neither

  of us knows when or where I’ll get

  back to. Merry Christmas. I love you.

  ONE LAST KISS

  And without looking back,

  I go to find Grandpa.

  He’s at the nurses’ station,

  where he has dropped a signed

  copy of Grandma Marie’s latest

  book for Officer Strohmeyer

  to come pick up later. I watch

  Grandpa Scott totally schmooze

  a plus-size nurse with orange

  hair. I’m sure we can find

  another copy for you. Write

  down your address and I’ll make

  sure you get one. I can pull

  strings with the author. He winks,

  turns to me. Ready to go?

  Before I know it, we’re out

  the door and in Grandpa’s new

  Lexus SUV, cruising toward Christmas

  dinner, me fiddling with the seat

  heat control, mostly because

  it gives my hands something

  to do besides tremble. By some

  unspoken agreement, neither

  of us says a word until we’re

  well on our way out of town.

  THE HIGHWAY IS MOSTLY CLEAR

  But Grandpa drives cautiously.

  Have to be careful of black ice,

  is his explanation. It is all he says

  for a while. But finally he broaches

  the necessary inquiry. So we

  hadn’t expected you this year.

  And Kristina didn’t know you were

  coming either. He pauses. Waits.

  “It was a last-minute decision,”

  I try. “We wanted to surprise you.”

  You definitely did that. His voice

  is gentle, tinged with humor. And

  you surprised everyone else, too.

  We called your dad’s to let him know

  you were
okay. Someone named

  Kortni answered. She said your father

  was in jail and as far as she knew,

  you were in a foster home in Fresno.

  He lets the weight of his words sink

  down around us. Was she wrong?

  OBVIOUSLY HE KNOWS

  She wasn’t wrong. And I’m just

  too tired of it all to try and make

  up a lie. “No. She was right.”

  Despite the Lexus’s luxury, I have

  become extremely uncomfortable.

  Oh, well. Fabrication is useless.

  I launch the story, omitting only the parts

  about making love beneath the stars

  and Kyle’s farewell to the monster.

  Grandpa Scott absorbs it all

  in silence. When I finish, he thinks

  about things, then spends some

  time crafting his comments.

  Running away is never a good

  decision, Summer. There has

  to be a better answer, though

  to tell you the truth, I’m not sure

  what it is. Let’s get through today

  as best we can, then make

  some decisions tomorrow.

  This should be interesting.

  I point as we pass the place where

  Kyle and I plunged off the highway

  yesterday. Last night’s heavy

  snowfall has covered most

  of the evidence of the accident.

  “You can’t even tell it happened,”

  I muse. What I don’t say is how

  scary that is. If circumstances

  were just a little different,

  we could still be down there, buried

  in a giant snowdrift. Suffocating.

  Or left to slow starvation.

  Even without my voicing

  those thoughts, Grandpa Scott

  gets them. Someone was watching

  out for you, all right. You’ve got

  something important to do

  before you check on out of here.

  IMPORTANT? ME?

  I’ve never once thought

  of myself as

  important,

  or considered

  I might have a special

  reason for being. I’ve

  mostly thought

  of myself

  as an accident.

  Someone in the way.

  Something important to

  do? Like what?

  Guess I

  don’t need to

  think about that right

  now. Like Grandpa Scott

  said, let’s just

  get through

  today. And make

  big decisions tomorrow.