Arcadia's Gift (Arcadia Trilogy) (20 page)

“Mom, are you okay? Can I come in?”

I heard her mumble something and then the word “fine.” She didn’t sound fine. I turned the knob and opened the door.

On the floor next to the shower, my mother was sprawled out naked and dripping blood from dozens of tiny cuts all over her arms, hands and torso. Silvery shards of mirrored glass were scattered on the sink and the tile and glinted off of her skin.

“Holy shit, Mom! What happened?”

“Dun know...slip...outta nowhere...” she mumbled, her eyes glassy and her hands flailing wildly. The wall above the sink held only an empty frame, making the room feel small.

I leaned in, careful not to step on glass in my stocking feet, inspecting her wounds. From my vantage, none looked overly serious, but each trickled several inches of crimson fluid. My mother’s eyes drifted closed, and she continued to mumble unintelligibly. She was a mess, but she’d survive.

Frustration began to overtake my worry. I concentrated on bringing my emotional shields up and locking them into place just as Jinx taught me. I knew I’d end up with one heck of a headache later, but I didn’t need Mom’s depression and drunken stupor killing my post-Bryan buzz.

“Mom, we have to get you out of the glass before you cut yourself more.” I reached to help her up, but my hands slipped on the rivers of blood trailing her arms. This wasn’t going to work.

“Don’t move.”

I ran to the bedroom closet where I yanked on a pair of my mother’s tennis shoes. Grabbing a pair of slippers and a bathrobe for her, I hurried back to her side.

Mom cried, snot and slobber rolling down over her chin. I bent to put the slippers on her feet. I may have had the right and left mixed up, but at least there would be some protection for when she stood up...if I could get her to stand anyway.

My nose wrinkled at the scent of blood and alcohol and unwashed body. With my eyes averted as much as possible from her nakedness, I brushed the loose glass from her skin and wrapped the robe around her. “Come on, Mom, work with me here...” I grunted, trying to thread her arms into the sleeves while she continued to fidget.

When she was reasonably covered, I took a towel down from the rack and swept as much of the glass away from her bare legs and bottom as possible.

“I need to get you to the bedroom, Mom. You have to stand and walk.” She nodded, but her eyes were closed, and I had doubts whether she really understood.

Standing behind her sitting form, I gripped my mother by the underarms and began to lift. “Mom, stand up. That’s right, move your leg...no, the other one...that’s good...”

With Herculean effort, I managed to get my mother into her bedroom and deposited onto a reading chair in the corner. She slumped back like a ragdoll, all loose limbed and boneless. The blood was going to completely ruin the powder blue upholstery, but I couldn’t care less.

“Stay here,” I told her. “I’m going to call 911.”

“No!” she yelled.

With the jolt of her fear pounding against my shields, my head snapped around to look at her. The word must have shocked her too because her eyes flashed a moment of lucidity before she collapsed into another fit of sobs.

“Don fine me lik dis,” she slurred.

My heart cracked remembering my mother as she used to be, the perfect picture of the career woman, all manicured and styled. Could that really be her slouched in front of me, her bloody robe open, her papery skin hanging on her emaciated skeleton? Had she always been gray? Regular hair appointments ensured I’d never seen her roots before, but now almost an inch of ashy growth framed her face.

No, I couldn’t let anyone find her like this.

“Fine, but you have to work with me here. I’ll need to inspect your cuts and make sure all of the glass is out. If you make this hard on me or if you need stitches, I’ll have to take you in to the hospital. Understand?”

I realized I was talking to her like she was a child, but she nodded and tried to sit up straighter.

“Be right back.”

I returned a few minutes later, arms loaded with first-aid items to discover my mother passed out cold in the chair. Maybe it was better this way. I lowered my mental shields, not needing them anymore. A sharp headache immediately ricocheted through my brain, setting my teeth on edge. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself. I turned on the overhead light and dragged over a reading lamp so I could spotlight in on any glints of mirror. Starting at her shoulders and working down I cleansed, disinfected and bandaged. Several times I had to use the tweezers to fish shards from her skin. Thankfully, none of the cuts looked deep enough to require stitches, but she would have lots of scars. I made a mental note to pick her up some of that scar reducing cream next time I went to the grocery store.

At some point during my ministrations, I had to drag my mother to the floor so I could reach her backside. When she was cleaned and wrapped like a mummy, I turned her on her side, tucked a pillow under her head, and covered her with a blanket. I considered cleaning up the mess of blood and glass from the bathroom, but I was tired, my head pounded and part of me wanted her to see the mess she’d made when she sobered up.

“I can’t believe I let Bryan talk me into this,” Aaron muttered as he straightened his tie in front of the mirror in our foyer. He agreed to the tie after fierce negotiations where I ended up agreeing to write his
Great Expectations
essay. “Who is this chick again?”

“Monica…something. She’s Bryan’s ex-girlfriend,” I replied, fiddling with the strap on my heels.

In the days since “the incident” Mom refused to speak about it to me. When I’d come home from school the following day, she was asleep in her bed. A glance into the bathroom showed it to be perfectly clean. In fact, if it weren’t for the missing mirror, I might have thought I’d imagined the whole thing. I started to smile, thinking my mom had it together enough to clean up after herself, but then I remembered the house keeper had been there that day. I groaned thinking of the horrible mess left for her. I called my dad and asked him to cut a check for the maid for an additional hundred dollars. He had sort of taken over the whole money thing for the household since Mom obviously wasn’t doing it. He agreed to the tip without asking why, a fact for which I was supremely grateful.

Anyway, I hadn’t had time to shop for a Homecoming dress, so that morning, after an hour of debating with myself, I’d raided Lony’s closet. Her bedroom door had been closed since the funeral, entombing her citrusy scent inside. My heart hurt, as if breaking the seal to her room would somehow allow her spirit to leave us forever.

An eerie feeling snaked up my spine as I took in the familiar bedroom. Several clothing items were strewn across her bed and on the floor, reminding me of the three times she had changed before we’d gone out on the night of her accident. I fingered a cotton sweater on her bed, her first choice of outfit that night, and wondered whether things would’ve been different had she decided to wear this instead. We might have gotten out of the house ten minutes earlier, met up with her friends ten minutes earlier, maybe gone on the hike through the woods ten minutes earlier. We could have been a mile away from the tracks by the time that train rolled through.

Lony and I have shared clothes our whole lives, so going into her closet shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. I used to yell at her for taking my things without asking. Now, I was the one doing it to her.

“Sorry, Lon,” I muttered out loud in case she could hear me on some level.

Lony’s closet had enough clothes in it for five people, and all of it stuffed in haphazardly. I riffled through as best as I could until my fingers latched onto a dress that would work. It was the color of lilac blossoms and the fabric was just as delicate. The hem of the tiered skirt just barely reached the knee and the fitted top highlighted my figure. My sister had only worn it once, and that was to Cane’s cousin’s wedding or something, so I could get away with recycling it for a school event. After a little more digging, I even found a light jacket to pair with it.

Before leaving her room, I stole another glance around. I suppose at some point, my mother would need to get rid of Lony’s things, although no one mentioned it yet. My eyes moistened at the thought of all traces of my sister being stripped away in favor of some generic looking guest room.

“I don’t know why I even agreed to do this,” Aaron complained for the four millionth time. “I hate dances! And things better not get awkward between you and this Monica girl. If this turns into a pissing contest over Bryan, I’m coming back home.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, assuring my brother as much as myself. “Bryan says everything will be cool. Maybe you’ll even like her.”

Aaron sighed and mumbled, “Like that would do me any good with her living across the country.”

I rolled my eyes.
Whine much?

The sound of Bryan’s car pulling into my driveway sent me to the mirror to check my hair one last time. I had curled the whole thing and pinned the sides up so that it cascaded down my back like a waterfall. I even put on make-up for the first time in forever. Although I hated to admit it to myself, part of the reason I wanted to look good was so I could hold my own next to Monica.

Aaron opened the door to let Bryan in. He was wearing a pair of black dress pants and a pale green button down shirt with a silver tie. The leather scent from his long, black jacket added to his normal sandalwood, making my head light and fuzzy. In his hands was a small plastic carton containing a corsage.

“Whoa,” he whispered. Sparks of happiness jolted off of him, making me blush.
I guess he likes the dress.

“Thanks. You look nice too.”

“Here,” he said, getting the corsage out of the carton and tying it around my wrist. It was a white orchid threaded with streaks of purple mounted on a lavender ribbon. Once the bow was secured, Bryan gathered me in his arms for a long, slow kiss. The warmth of his affection ran through my limbs.

“If you two are going to make out all night, I’m staying home,” Aaron warned.

I flashed him a dirty look.

“We should go anyway,” Bryan replied. “Monica’s back at my house. She wasn’t quite ready, so I offered to swing back to pick her up on our way to dinner. Besides, my mom wants to meet you.”

My heart did a summersault in my chest.
Meet his mother?
Good thing that would be before dinner, so I wouldn’t accidentally hurl on her shoes.

Bryan helped me into my jacket, and the three of us walked out to the car.

“Nice ride,” Aaron commented with genuine appreciation while sliding into the back of dark, shiny SUV.

“It’s my mother’s,” Bryan explained, backing out of the drive. “She let me borrow it for the night. I thought it’d be more comfortable. I think it looks like something a Secret Service agent would use to tail the President.”

I sank into the leather passenger seat and listened to the boys talk about their favorite cars. I’d never been to Bryan’s house before, but I had a pretty good idea from the neighborhood that Bryan’s parents had some major cash. His street was lined with huge homes with sprawling, manicured lawns. My nervousness returned as he pulled into a circular driveway in front of a modern, two-story house made of pale brick. The sun had just disappeared over the horizon, but every light in the house was on. These people obviously didn’t have to worry about paying their electric bills.

“Wow, you live here?”

“Yeah,” Bryan replied with a sigh. He felt embarrassed, but I wasn’t sure if that was due to his ostentatious house or his mother standing in the doorway waving at us.

I climbed out of the SUV and straightened my skirt before following Brian up the walk.

“Mom, this is Cady and her brother Aaron.”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” his mother said with a warm smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Sullivan,” I replied, shaking her cool hand. She was taller than me, but not by much, and her eyes were exactly the same dark pools as Bryan’s. Sensing a faint stirring of nerves coming from her went a long way toward easing mine. She wanted to make a good impression on me, too.

“Call me Joan, please.” She stepped aside and gestured for us to enter. “Come on in. I told Monica you’re here. She’ll be right down.”

The foyer was as big as my whole bedroom and twice as tall. An open staircase of dark, polished wood stretched up to the second story. It looked like the kind of staircase a Disney princess would float down on in a frothy gown to meet her Prince Charming for the ball. Knowing that was just the entrance that Monica would make soon didn’t cheer me at all.

Bryan wrapped his arm loosely around my waist while Joan made polite conversation with my brother about his college plans. As far as I knew he didn’t have any, so I was surprised when he mentioned applying to a graphic design program in Minneapolis.

“I’ve never seen you in a dress before. You look beautiful,” Bryan whispered into my ear, making my neck tingle. “Maybe we could drop Aaron and Monica off at the dance and find some place to be alone.”

“Shhh,” I replied, my cheeks burning. Not that it didn’t sound like a good idea, but the last thing I needed was for his mother to overhear him talking to me that way.