October Breezes

  I forced myself upright and clutched the blanket covering me, trying not to react to my ribs. “I don’t feel so good,” I whispered, and Mom thrust the waste basket in front of me.

  “Good. Maybe if you feel bad enough, you’l think twice about drinking again.” She waited for me to finish vomiting and asked, “When did you come in here?

  “After I took a shower.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and felt chiled. Pain exploded in my ribs, and it took everything I had to keep from crying out.

  Mom grabbed some jeans and a sweater. “I’l give you ten minutes to get dressed and meet me in the kitchen.” She started into her bathroom.

  “Mom?”

  She turned and waved me silent. “There’s no point in talking, Skye. You were right last night. This mess is your fault and while I’d like to know who gave you the booze, you’re not going to tel me. Now, you live with the consequences.”

  “But right now I’m not the only one who’s living with them.” I sat down and brought my knees to my chest. “I’m not trying to make you feel sorry for me or excuse what I did. But I’d like you to give Warren another chance.” I brushed the bangs from my face.

  “Warren is a part of the past, Skye.” She took a deep breath and leaned against the door frame. Even though she tried to hide it, I could see she trembled. “You should be glad. You never liked him, anyway.”

  I forced myself to the bathroom. “That’s not true.

  Warren’s been okay. He wasn’t trying to take my side. He just wanted to help.” I touched her arm. “You were right to be angry, and you'l never know how sorry I am. But Warren didn’t do anything. Please don’t kick him out of our lives.”

  My mom patted my arm and looked away. “Broken things don’t heal overnight.”

  “But they can heal, Mom. They can.” I headed to the halway. “I’l go upstairs and change. Then you can tel me what you need me to do.”

  I trudged up the steps, wondering if she’d give Warren another chance. It felt so strange, hoping to keep someone in my life I’d spent so much time hating. I never expected to like the Mockingbird Man, but I was learning that life rarely played by my expectations.

  The minute I started changing, I noticed the stiffness.

  When I lifted the nightgown, I gasped as my ribs felt like they were on fire. Even breathing hurt. After ten agonizing minutes, I’d managed to dress, and heard the phone ringing. I deliberately delayed coming down so if the cal were for me, she would tel whomever it was I couldn’t talk. Perhaps by my eighteenth birthday I’d be free to socialize again.

  After a few minutes, she was stil talking on the phone, and I ambled down the steps, listening to the conversation. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. She was pretty shook up after her last visit.” Pause. “Look, I’m having enough problems keeping her out of trouble. It’s like she suddenly has lost control.” Another pause.

  “No, I can handle it.”

  I walked into the room, but my mother’s back was turned.

  “You haven’t been a father to her, and you want to start now?”

  Pause. “Maybe that’s an option if things keep going the way they are, but only because I know she would hate living with you.”

  Another pause.

  She must have been talking to my dad. My world began to unravel and I cringed. Did she mean that if I messed up again, she would actualy send me to live with him?

  “No!” I said. “No!” Then I darted into the kitchen.

  Mom whirled. “I need to go. I’l cal you later.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  She folowed me into the kitchen. “Skye, wait.” She clutched the phone, a furious scarlet on her cheeks. “You only heard part of the conversation.”

  “Yeah,” I retorted, “the important part—the part about if I don’t straighten up, you’l send me to Dad’s, knowing I’l hate it.” I opened the refrigerator, not because I was hungry but because I needed to do something. I had to keep moving, or I’d go mad.

  “Maybe I should run away now and save you the trouble.”

  Mom cut me off. “That’s not fair, Skye.”

  “Neither is unloading o n me because I messed up.” I reached past her to grab a soda. “I’m human, Mom. I make mistakes.”

  Mom folded her arms across her chest. “This isn’t a smal error, Skye. You lied to me, and you got drunk! Maybe if you think there is something you can’t bear to lose, you won’t do it again.”

  I puled my soda can open. “You’re not giving me a chance to see if this is a one-time mess up before threatening to ship me to Dad’s. Maybe I was wrong, Mom. Maybe I just thought Dad was the only one who didn’t want me.”

  Mom paled and dropped the phone. Instead of reaching for it, she grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “Don’t say that!

  I’m only trying to protect you.”

  I gasped, and it took everything I had to hide the pain. I set the ful soda on the counter and stepped back so she couldn’t reach me. “That’s just it, Mom. You can’t protect me anymore. No one can.”

  “I didn’t mean for you to hear that conversation,” she said, setting her hands on her hips.

  “Wel, I did.” I glared at her. “If you’d could've kept it secret, that would have made it okay?”

  Shaking her head, Mom gestured to a paper on top of the microwave. “Your list is right here.”

  The telephone rang and she bent to grab it. She answered calmly, giving away nothing of what was happening here. “She can’t talk. She's lost phone privileges," Mom said, then paused. “Yes, I’l tel her you caled.” Once my mom had hung up, she said, “That was Devin.” When I didn’t respond, Mom shook her head. “This isn’t my fault, Skye. You have no right to be angry.” She walked away.

  I gritted my teeth, knowing I was wel past anger to a profound sadness. I had once believed my mother's love was beyond shifting but after hearing her talk to my dad, nothing and no one seemed beyond changing.

  I spent al day finishing the chores on that list, and I quickly realized I hated the tasks she'd selected. I had to hand it to her.

  She was doing her best to make sure I didn’t repeat this mistake.

  Then again, not al this had been my fault.

  We carefuly avoided each other, and I didn’t know what to say. I don’t think she knew what to say, either. The silence deepened around dinner time as we foraged separately through the leftovers and made do. Not that it mattered what I ate. It al tasted like cardboard.

  As I headed to my room, I heard the doorbel ring and I paused at the landing, waiting to see who had come to visit--

  Warren. As Mom alowed him into the foyer, I saw the flowers he handed her. “I don’t know if you’l take these or even my apology,”

  he said. “I didn’t mean to anger you last night. I was only trying to help.”

  My mom leaned close and kissed his cheek. Seeing them that close, I knew she'd forgive him. I just wasn’t sure she'd ever forgive me. It wasn’t that I’d never gotten in trouble before. My speak-first- think-later approach had a knack for causing problem, as had my candor. I’d even been in a fight during recess once when I was ten. But this…this was something altogether different.

  I lay on the bed, wondering how long her anger's punishment phase would last. Stil, thinking of her kept me from dweling on Tyler; that would come later, when I tried to sleep.

  A soft knock interrupted my thoughts. “Go away!” I snapped.

  “Skye?” Warren’s muffled voice greeted me. “Can I talk to you?”

  At first I wanted to yel at him, too, and before the whole party thing I would have, but none of this was his fault. He just happened to be standing under the fan when it hit. When I didn’t answer, he softly knocked again. “Please, Skye, let me come in.”

  Grudgingly, I forced myself to open the door. Then I sat back on the bed.

  “You’ve had a rough weekend,” he said, lowering himself into the chair by my desk.

  “To say the least.
” I folded my arms across my chest.

  “It’s probably my worst weekend ever, but I’m sure if Mom realy tries, she can top it next Saturday and Sunday.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  I shook my head. “Neither is she right now.”

  He looked at the waterfal screen-saver on my computer and leveled his gaze at me. “I wanted to thank you for what you did on my behalf this morning. It means a lot.” He leaned back in the chair.

  “I just told the truth, Warren. You didn’t do anything wrong, and she shouldn’t have screamed at you. It was my fault.” I refused to meet his gaze.

  “Everybody makes mistakes, Skye.”

  “Tel that to my mom. Maybe she’l believe you.”

  “Maybe.” He nodded. “Then again, I find it hard to believe someone who is so honest about her mistakes would suddenly become so irresponsible to lie about where she was going, get drunk, and return home almost two hours late. In fact, I’m hardly wiling to believe that last night was al your fault, and I’d like to hear the rest of the story.” He walked to the bed. “I’m not your dad. I know that. But I’m wiling to listen and keep an open mind.”

  “Not being my dad is a good thing these days,” I said, sitting upright and tucking my feet under my bottom. “Besides, I might have to live with him if I don’t change my evil ways.” Heat burned my eyes, blurring my vision.

  “I don’t see that happening. She loves you too much not to be with you.” He patted my knee. “Don’t get me wrong. She puts up a great front, pretending to be angry, but you hurt her, Skye. I've never seen her that scared. She was ready to cal the hospitals and check to see if an ambulance had brought you in. Then when you came in drunk, you made her wonder if she was a good mother. In some ways, she blames herself.”

  The tears spiled down my face. “She is a good mom. She didn’t do anything wrong.” My voice came out as a raspy whisper.

  “I’l take the heat for the choices I made, but I don’t want to end up with my dad. He didn’t even want me when I was a baby—even if he’s changed his mind, I don’t want him.”

  Warren reached out and brushed his hand across my check. “I don’t blame you for being angry. He should never have shut you out of his life. But try not to judge him for his choices.

  Remember last night and how complicated things got in a hurry.

  You’d think adults would make the right choices, but we’re no different than you, only older. We make mistakes, sometimes realy big ones.”

  I chewed on my lower lip, debating whether I should ask the question weighing on my mind. Finaly, I thought there wasn’t any reason not to. “Do you realy think she’l send me to my dad’s?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not that you're going to test her, are you?”

  “Not by a long shot.”

  Warren spotted the picture beside my bed, the photo of me with my mom when I was three when we were playing in the snow.

  It was hard to believe just two-and-a-half short years after that my father would leave us both. He picked up the photo and ran his fingers lightly across the glass.

  “So what happened last night?”

  Immediately my body tensed. “It doesn’t matter.” I puled a rubber band from my wrist and drew my hair into a pony tail.

  “Beautiful picture of you and your mom.”

  I smiled. “Yeah, it’s one of my favorites —not that I have a lot to choose from. Since it’s only been the two of us for a while, there’s no one around to take the pictures.”

  He set the frame back on the nightstand. “Look, Skye, I’m trying to help you, but you have to trust me. I know something happened because I could see it in your eyes, and it’s stil there.

  Only you can tel me what that something is.”

  A lump settled in my throat as I tried to understand why Warren cared, considering the way I had treated him for so long.

  “Why did you give me that book? You could have chosen anything.

  Why that?”

  Warren looked on my shelf and spotted To Kill a Mockingbird. “Two reasons. First, that I knew you didn’t have a great life with your dad, and I knew I couldn’t replace him. Just because I was here and he wasn’t didn’t change anything. But if I could have given you any man to be your dad, I would have given you Atticus Finch.”

  I chewed harder on my bottom lip. “And the second?”

  He shrugged. “Because I wanted you to realize that some people wil surprise you. You’l think you’ve got it al figured out, but then everything shifts. Sometimes those shifts are good.

  Sometimes they're bad. Frankly, I always wanted to be one of the good ones.” He offered a gentle smile. “Now that I’ve answered your question, wil you answer mine?”

  I swalowed hard and thought what to tel him and what to leave out. “After the game, Kelin and I went to his best friend’s house for a party. I told Kelin I didn’t drink beer or anything with alcohol in it. He brought me punch, saying it was the only thing without alcohol.”

  “You think he knew it was spiked?”

  I shrugged and plucked tiny bals of lint from my bedspread. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” I closed my eyes, and Tyler’s face flashed into my mind. His mouth was open, and he silently laughed.

  “Skye?”

  My eyelids snapped open, and I shuddered. “What?”

  “Then what happened?”

  “I came home.”

  He stood and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

  “You sure that’s it?”

  “Yes.” I tried to even my voice.

  He stepped toward the door. “I’m not saying you’re lying, Skye. Maybe you have reasons for not wanting to disclose everything, and I understand. I haven’t earned your trust. But if you want to talk, I’d like to listen.”

  I waited until he’d walked out before picking up the book he’d given me and clutching it to my chest. Warren was right about how quickly things changed. Once I had seen him as a problem, but now I could accept that he loved my mom. I had become the problem.

  * * *

  Cold…so cold. I looked around Tyler Rutherford’s politely manicured back yard.

  Cold.

  Moonlight glistening off my bare skin, glowing in the naked pallor of my body. All of me seemed white except the bruised areas. The marks seemed larger and blacker.

  “Skye? Where are you?” Tyler called. “I’m ready to have some fun.”

  Despite my nakedness, I ran toward the house, but the doors were locked. All the teenagers inside peered out the windows. They pointed and laughed as Tyler caught my arm and threw me to the ground.

  “No!” I screamed.

  I woke and sat up. My ribs burned from the sudden movement. I gasped, closing my eyes until the savage spearing sensation halted and I could breath again. For a few seconds al I could hear was the violent beating of my heart and the harsh gasping sound as I struggled for breath.

  Then my mother exploded into the room, flipped on the light, and sat on the bed, shaking me. “Skye? What is it? What’s wrong?”

  The bright lights drove the nightmare away and I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to pul myself together. During the dream, I had sweated profusely and the night air had chiled me.

  “Nothing…just a dream.”

  Frowning, my mom touched my forehead, checking for a fever. “Do you feel sick? You’re sweating like crazy.” She puled her hand back, shaking her head. “You don’t have a fever.”

  My shirt and pajama pants stuck to my sweat-slicked skin.

  “I’m okay.” I licked my dry lips. “It was just a dream. That’s it.

  Nothing to worry about.” I lay back on the bed, wishing I could make everything go away.

  “What was the dream about?” Mom persisted, scooting closer.

  I closed my eyes, hoping I could eventualy fake her out so she would leave me alone. “I don’t remember.”

  Mom shook her head and brushed the bangs from my eyes. “You woke up screaming loud en
ough to wake the dead, and you don’t remember what scared you? When I first heard you, I thought someone was attacking you.”

  I felt the color drain from my face and considered myself lucky that my mom didn’t realize just how close she was to the truth. “No, I don’t remember it.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?” She studied my face.

  “No. I just want to go back to sleep. I have school tomorrow, and my teachers wouldn't like me sleeping though their classes.”

  Mom slowly stood, stil frowning, but her gaze appeared distant, the expression she often wore when concentrating. Right now that problem was me. Suddenly I'd become realy strange to her, and she was trying to understand. She kissed me on the forehead, a gesture she had abandoned three years ago when hugs and kisses had suddenly became too embarrassing for a junior-high girl. Tonight it comforted me. “Goodnight, Skye. Sleep tight.”

  Maybe that was a stupid way to say goodnight. She’d used those same words forever, and for whatever reason, they did bring me some peace. Although I knew she'd stood, she hadn’t left, so she must have been watching over me, waiting for other signs something important was happening. A few moments, later she flipped off the light and left me once again in the dark, alone with Tyler’s memory when I would have given anything to be able to tel her the truth.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I didn’t sleep after that and spent most of the night waiting for dawn. But with the sunrise also came the fear of school, of facing al those witnesses. Did anybody know what Tyler had done?

  As I stood before my closet, trying to pick out an outfit, two solutions came to mind. I could skip school, or I could play sick. If I failed to show at school, the secretary would cal my mom and while I, too, doubted Mom would pack me off to my dad's, I wasn’t going to give her any reasons to think I needed that wake-up cal.

  On the other hand, Mom would never alow me to stay home sick when I’d been fine enough to get drunk two days ago. I was going to have to face things.

  As I changed, I glanced at the angry bruises bluing my arms. He might as wel have burned the imprints of his hands into my skin because the bruises were obviously his handprints. Smal ovals marred the skin where his fingers had dug in. I touched the evidence of Tyler’s cruelty and kept seeing his face, feeling the hard ground beneath me as his body slammed into mine. Al the while, he’d covered my mouth with his hand. I started shaking and dropped the clothes. My naked body appeared pale and wounded in the mirror. My lips quivered and curved into a grimace. Al the tears I'd shed had turned my eyes to an unnatural green. “There’s no use in crying anymore,” I told myself. “No tears can wash it clean.”