Life as We Knew It

  I had to make sure the stove was dry or else the same thing would happen again. And that meant I had to get another fire going just to dry out the stove, and that meant more smoke.

  My whole body began to shake. It was stupid, but I kept thinking how unfair it was. Why did I have to be the one? Why couldn't I be sick and Matt take care of me? Or Jon? He's the one who gets to eat. Why did he have to get sick? He should be healthy. He should be the one choking to death and I should be in the nice warm kitchen, all drugged with codeine.

  Well, it was useless to dream. I looked around the sunroom to see what I could burn. A log wouldn't do. It would just get wet and start the whole business over again. I needed to burn lots and lots of paper.

  My first thought was the textbooks, but I knew Mom would kill me. If we all got well and she found we couldn't keep studying, she would kill me. But I felt like if I had to go through all this, I should be rewarded by burning a textbook.

  I left the sunroom and made my way through the kitchen. Everyone was still coughing, but not the way they had been. Matt looked feverish, but he waved me away when I tried to hover.

  "I'm okay," he whispered.

  I didn't have much choice but to believe him. I went upstairs and got a couple of the textbooks I'd taken home my one day at school. While I was up there, I changed into dry clothes and put on shoes. Just doing that helped.

  I went back to the kitchen and freshened the washcloth. Then I crawled back into the sunroom. The smoke had lessened but once I reopened the woodstove, it poured out again.

  I tore page after page from the textbook. With a shaking hand I lit a match and threw the burning paper into the stove. The smoke grew stronger and I wasn't sure I'd be able to bear it. But I shoved as many pieces of paper as I could in there, and when I was sure the fire would last at least a minute, I let myself go to the back door and gulp in some air. Then I went back, tore more sheets out, and burned them.

  I don't know how long I burned paper, but I know I killed one and a half textbooks. If the school wants them back, they can just sue me.

  Finally the stove stopped smoking. I tore some more textbook then piled on some of my kindling. When the fire was going good and strong, I put a couple of logs in and everything was fine.

  I took a pot and filled it with snow and put it on the top of the stove to get some moisture back in the room. I waited about half an hour and then I closed the window. I waited another half hour after that, watching the fire and making sure it was burning clean before I closed the door.

  I wanted more than anything to curl up on the kitchen floor and go to sleep. But I didn't dare leave the woodstove untended. So I stayed awake and only left the sunroom to go into the kitchen a couple of times to check on Mom and Matt and Jonny.

  The window I took the plywood off of has an eastern exposure. I can see the sky lightening, so I guess it's dawn. It really isn't January 13 anymore.

  I'm going to leave everyone in the kitchen for the time being. I'll give them their aspirin and let them go back to sleep. It's taken hours for the house to get from below freezing to 65 degrees and they might as well enjoy it. Besides, the sunroom still stinks of smoke, and I really should open the window and the door and air things out. We'll be sleeping on smoky mattresses for weeks to come.

  Because if this didn't kill us, nothing will. It's January 14 and I can see the dawn and we're all going to survive.

  January 14

  We're all still alive.

  I'm scared to leave everyone in the kitchen and I'm scared to move them back. What scares me most is I don't think Matt has the strength to help me get them into the sunroom.

  I'm just going to hope we have enough heating oil to make it through the night.

  I stink of smoke and it hurts to breathe.

  January 15

  After I gave Mom her morning aspirin, I bent over her and kissed her forehead. It was just like Sleeping Beauty. Mom opened her eyes, stared straight at me, and said, "Not until you finish your homework."

  I burst out laughing.

  "Don't laugh at me, young lady," Mom said.

  "Yes, ma'am," I said, trying with all my strength not to.

  "Very well," she said. "I'll make supper now." She struggled to get up.

  "No, that's okay," I said. "I'm not hungry."

  "Nonsense," she said, but she fell back asleep. Her breathing was steady and I could tell her fever had broken.

  She woke up a few hours later and seemed puzzled to be in the kitchen. "Is everyone all right?" she asked.

  "We're fine," I told her.

  She looked over and saw Jon and Matt sleeping on the floor. "What are we doing here?" she asked. "What's going on?"

  "There was a problem with the woodstove," I said. "So I turned the furnace on and you've been sleeping in here."

  "You look terrible," she said. "Are you eating properly?"

  "No," I said.

  Mom nodded. "Well, none of us are," she said, and went back to sleep.

  When she woke up this evening she was just about normal. She managed to sit up, and she asked how each of us was doing. I gave her the rundown.

  "How long have we been sick?" she asked.

  "I don't know," I said. "I've lost track. A few days."

  "And you took care of us all that time?" she asked. "By yourself?"

  "Matt helped," I said. I wanted to collapse by her side and weep and have her hold me and comfort me. None of which, of course, could I do. "The real problem was the woodstove, but that's okay now. Maybe tomorrow you'll move back to the sunroom."

  "When did you eat last?" she asked.

  "I haven't been hungry," I said. "I'm okay."

  "You need to eat," she said. "We can't have you getting sick. Get yourself a can of mixed vegetables and eat all of it."

  "Mom," I said.

  "That's an order," she said.

  So I did. And when I finished the can of vegetables I realized I was famished. I went back to the pantry and made myself a can of carrots and ate all of that. I probably haven't eaten in a couple of days, so I guess I'm entitled.

  Then I realized Mom was well enough to eat, so I heated up a can of soup and gave her some. Matt woke up and he ate along with her.

  "I'm worried about Jonny," Mom said when she finished her soup. "Do you think you should get Peter and have him check him out?"

  "I've already been to the hospital," I said. "I went the first day you all got sick. It's the flu and the only thing we can do is wait it out."

  "I'd still feel better if Peter could see him," Mom said. "I know you've been doing everything you can, but Peter's a doctor."

  "It's too late for me to go anyplace today," I said. "Let's see how Jonny is tomorrow, okay? Now go back to sleep."

  Thank goodness, Mom did. With everything that's happened, I haven't even thought how to tell her Peter died.

  January 16

  Jonny woke me this morning. I was sleeping in the doorway, head in the sunroom, feet in the kitchen.

  "I'm hungry," he said.

  He was weak but he was Jonny.

  "I'll get you some soup," I said. I got up, went to the pantry, pulled out a can of soup, and heated it on the woodstove.

  He was able to sit up and eat most of it. While he was eating, Mom and Matt both woke up. I heated more soup for them and soon they were all sitting up, eating, and even talking.

  "Shouldn't we move back to the sunroom?" Mom asked.

  "Later," I said. "Let me change the sheets on your mattresses first."

  I went upstairs and got fresh sheets. I would have liked to flip all the mattresses over, but I didn't have the strength, so I told myself it wouldn't matter.

  Once I got the clean sheets on the mattresses, I helped everyone get up. First Matt, then Mom, and finally Jonny. They all collapsed onto their mattresses. The walk from the kitchen to the sunroom took a lot out of them.

  But after they'd napped, they woke up and I could see the difference in all of them. I heated up
some vegetables and they all ate.

  I gave everyone sponge baths, and then I took all their dirty sheets and pillowcases and spent the afternoon washing them. Since the house was still warm, I hung them all up in the kitchen and the living room. When the laundry felt damp, I turned the heat off. I probably shouldn't have kept it on as long as I did, but it was so luxurious doing the wash in a warm kitchen.

  Mom didn't ask about Peter.

  January 17

  Everybody was crabby and demanding. Get me this. Bring me that. I'm hot. I'm cold. It's too bright. It's too dark. Why did you do that? Why didn't you do that?

  I swear I hate them all.

  January 19

  I can see how much better everyone is. I'm worried most about Matt. He was never as sick as Mom or Jonny, but he's still very weak.

  I worry that when he helped me pull Mom and Jonny out of the sunroom he might have strained his heart.

  Mom and Jonny both walked a few steps today.

  January 21

  I'm feeding everybody three meals a day. It's probably suicidal, but it's just so wonderful to see them eat.

  Mom says tomorrow she's going to be strong enough to do the cooking.

  Jon asked for his baseball cards and he stayed up all afternoon organizing them. Matt asked me to bring him a murder mystery and he spent the day reading it.

  This evening Matt told me not to worry about the fire. He'd make sure to keep it going during the night. I should just get a good night's sleep.

  I'm going to take him up on that.

  January 23

  I guess I slept for two straight days. I feel real groggy and hungry.

  Mom's making me a cup of tea. Matt and Jon are playing chess.

  Even Horton is sleeping on my mattress.

  I think we're going to be okay.

  January 26

  I climbed onto the roof today and cleared the snow off. It's been on my list of things to do since that awful night, but I wanted to make sure someone would be strong enough to rescue me if I got into trouble.

  Jon's getting stronger faster than Mom or Matt. By this afternoon, I figured I could take my chances. It was hard work, and I can't imagine how much harder it must have been after the blizzard when there was so much more snow.

  I'm actually doing everybody's work these days: snow removal and all the laundry, etc. But tomorrow Jon'll start doing the dishes. He's eager to do stuff, but we all agree it's better for him to take things slow and make sure he recovers fully. Mom wasn't crazy about his being outside all the time I did the roof cleaning, but I worked as fast as I could and Jon doesn't seem any the worse for it.

  I'm more tired than I used to be, but I think that'll pass. The important thing is I didn't get sick and we all think if I didn't then, I'm not going to now. Me and Maggie and Linda. I hope they had as good luck with their families as I did with mine.

  January 27

  I was in the kitchen doing laundry when Mom joined me. "You shouldn't be here," I said. "Go back to the sunroom."

  "I will in a minute," she said. "But this seemed like a good time to talk."

  There was a time when that tone would have meant I was in trouble. Now it just means she wants some private conversation. I smiled at her and kept scrubbing.

  "I want you to know how proud I am of you," she said. "There aren't words to say how grateful I am. We would have died without you and we all know that. We owe you our lives."

  "You would have done the same for me," I said, staring at the dirty underwear. I knew if I looked at Mom I'd start crying, and I didn't want to do that because I worry if I start crying I'll never stop.

  "You're a very special girl," Mom said. "No, you're a very special woman, Miranda. Thank you."

  "You're welcome," I said. "Is that it? Because if it is, you really should go back to the sunroom."

  "There is one other thing," she said. "I'm confused about something. Those first few days—well, everything is hazy in my mind. Was Peter here? I think I remember you going to get him, but I don't remember seeing him. Did you get to see him? Did he know we were sick? I know it's close to impossible to get from here to the hospital, so I don't even know if you made it. But did you try? I'm sorry. I'm just trying to put all this together and make sense of it."

  This time I looked away from the laundry. I dried my hands off and turned to face Mom. "I made it to the hospital," I said. "That first day. Matt was too sick to go, so I went. Basically I was told what I already knew, that you all had the flu and you should be kept warm and given aspirin and made comfortable until you got better. So I came back and did all that."

  "Did you see Peter?" Mom asked.

  "No," I said. "I spoke to two women there, nurses I think." I turned away from her and willed myself to be brave. "Mom, Peter's dead," I said. "The nurses told me. The flu decimated everyone at the hospital, patients and staff. You got sick on Tuesday and he'd died the weekend before. I don't know for sure, but I think a lot of people in town died. Maybe people all over the country. It was that kind of flu. We were incredibly lucky you all pulled through. Well, not completely because of luck. You've seen to it we've had food and water and shelter and heat. Even Matt making us move into the sunroom when we still had heating oil probably saved your lives because when we needed the oil, we still had some."

  Mom stood there stone-faced.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "I haven't wanted to tell you. The nurses said he worked to the end. He was a hero."

  "I wish we didn't need so damn many heroes," Mom said, and went back to the sunroom.

  Me too.

  January 30

  Matt remains weak, which is really annoying him. Mom keeps telling him that people recuperate at different speeds and he should just not rush things.

  But I think he's never going to be 100% again.

  Jon's regained most of his strength and he's impatient to be doing things, but Mom's keeping him on a limited schedule. Except for that one day when I cleared off the roof, he's stayed in the sunroom. Since he can wash the dishes in the old basin we found in the cellar, he doesn't even have to leave the sun-room to do that.

  Mom isn't as strong as I'd like her to be, but I know she's also sad about Peter. After I told her, she had me tell Matt and Jonny, too, so now everybody knows, but of course it's Mom who feels it the worst.

  Now that it's been a couple of weeks since the fevers broke, I figure I can do some stuff on my own. This afternoon I took the skis and went back to the road to practice.

  It was glorious being alone and outside and doing something other than nursing and housework. And since my trek to the hospital, I've been thinking how I really should get better on the skis. I don't know when Matt will be strong enough to go any distance, and one of us needs to be able to get around. That leaves Jon and me, and I have a head start.

  This is my time. I've earned it.

  February 2

  Mom must be getting better. She asked if I'd forgotten about schoolwork.

  "It hasn't been my highest priority," I said.

  "Well, we need to change that," she said. "For all of us. Jonny, there's no reason why you can't go back to algebra. Matt can help you. And I'm going to forget all my French if I don't start working on it. We don't want our brains to rot away."

  "Mom," I said, "I'm doing all the housework and I'm skiing. What more do you want from me?"

  "I don't want back talk from you, I can tell you that," she said. "Now open up that history textbook and get to work."

  It's a good thing I didn't burn it. Or maybe it's not such a good thing!

  February 4

  Matt needed something from his bedroom.

  It's hard for Mom to get upstairs since she fell the second time, so I go to her room if she needs something from there. Jon only started going upstairs last weekend. Up till then, I got whatever he needed, and of course I've been doing the same for Matt.

  "Do you think you're ready?" Mom asked him.

  "Sure," Matt said. "I wouldn't d
o it if I weren't."

  Mom exchanged glances with me, but when I started to get up to go with him, she shook her head ever so slightly.

  Matt made his way out of the sunroom, through the kitchen, down the hallway to the staircase. I don't think any of us breathed as we heard his lumbering steps on the staircase.

  Then the sounds stopped.

  "Go," Mom said to me.

  I ran to the staircase. Matt was standing 4 steps up.

  "I can't do it," he said. "Damn it to hell. I can't get up the stairs."

  "Then stop trying," I said. "Just come down and try some other time."

  "What if there isn't another time?" he said. "What if I'm a useless invalid for the rest of my life?"

  "You may be an invalid, but you'll never be useless," I said. "Matt, has it occurred to you that the reason you're so weak is because you pulled Mom and Jonny out of the sunroom that night? That maybe you sacrificed your health to save their lives and that's something you should be proud of? They wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you. You have no idea how much you give to us every single day. You think I liked nursing all of you? I hated it. But I'd think of how you do things, without complaining. You just do what has to be done, and I tried to be like you. So walk down those stairs and get back to bed and if you stay exactly the way you are now, you'll still be the strongest person I've ever known."

  "It takes one to know one," he said.

  "Great," I said. "We're both the bestest people ever. Now tell me what you want upstairs and go to the sunroom before Mom gets hysterical."

  So he did. I watched to make sure he made it down the stairs, then I ran upstairs and got what he needed in the first place.

  It's going to kill us if Matt doesn't get stronger. But he doesn't need to know that.