Damaged 2 (17 page)

I
nod and step inside. The house is filled with people, family, neighbors, and
people from the past. Most of them glare at me. They don't know what happened,
they just know that I ran off and broke my parents' hearts. They don't temper
their disgust as Dad leads me inside.

"My
baby came home! We're together again." He pinches my cheek so hard that it
hurts. I smile at him and try not to pull away. His emotions flip, like he
decided to let it go. Dad's all smiles and walking around showing me off the
way he used to. He tells people that already know me that I'm his daughter,
that his little girl came home. He's so excited to see me. He doesn't ask where
I've been or why I didn't tell him.

Tears
sting my eyes, but I blink them back. Leaving like that hurt him terribly. I
can see it on their faces, and hear it in his voice. Dad sounds proud of me,
which totally kills me. I left with good reason. I left because no one believed
me. I left because they liked Dean more than me.

Dad
circles me through the room, laughing loudly and beaming. I'm polite and smile
even though I can tell that no one wants me here. That's when I see Sam leaning
against the railing that goes upstairs to the bedrooms. His arms are folded
across his chest. He glances behind me looking for Peter, but Peter is gone.

Sam
steps toward us. "I told you I'd find her and bring her back. It's good to see
you, sis." Sam leans in and gives me a quick hug. Everyone thinks he's
wonderful, that he brought his wayward sister home. If they cheer, I won't be
able to take it.

I
look back at my dad. "What's going on with Mom? Can I see her?"

Dad
takes my hand and pulls me into the kitchen. There are fewer people in this
room. My aunt is making something on the stove. There are countless dishes
covered in aluminum foil on the kitchen table. Mom's kiss the cook collection
is still on display in this room. Everywhere I turn, there's another plaque or
doll or apron that says KISS THE COOK.

Dad
walks to the other end of the dining room and pulls out a chair for me. "Have
you eaten? Beth, make her a plate."

I
wave at Aunt Beth and say no, but they both ignore me. A moment later Aunt Beth
sets down a paper plate over flowing with food in front of me. "Eat. You're too
skinny." She gives me a look of disapproval and turns back to the stove.

"Dad,
what's wrong with Mom?"

"She's
got the cancer, baby girl. It snuck up on us. One day she was fine, and then
she wasn't. We did chemo for a while, but it's too far gone. She already lived
longer than they expected." He says the words stoically like he's said them a
million times before.

"Why
isn't she in the hospital?"

"You
know your mother. She wanted to be home. We have everything she needs here. The
only thing we were missing was you. She'll be happy to see you."

I
nod slowly, letting everything sink in. I knew Sam said she was dying, but I
didn't realize she was that far gone. My stomach sours. I dart out of my chair
and race to the bathroom and dry heave until my brow is covered in sweat.
Everything crashes into me in merciless waves. Remorse so deep that I can't
fathom the pain, the lost time, the hatred and the fact that I didn't forgive
her blast into me. In the back of my mind I always thought there'd be time to
patch things up. It wasn't a conscious thought, but it was there.

Now,
there is no time. I lost that chance and I'll never get it back.

CHAPTER
24

I'm
numb inside and out, staring at nothing. A few hours have passed since I got
home, and it's too much. My emotions overloaded and shorted out. The only good
thing that's happened is that Dean hasn't shown up.

Sam
finds me sitting outside alone. "Hey, Sid."

I
take a sip of my soda. My stomach is still queasy. It's late. Most of the
people in my house left. They'll come back every day until Mom passes away,
bringing food and keeping my father company.

"I
wanted to say sorry for the way things happened in Texas. I should have known
you'd come back. I was worried about Dad—about what would happen to him if you
didn't get up to say good-bye. He's been smiling too much lately, like he's
losing his mind. Every day Mom slips further away. She wakes less and barely
talks anymore. The one thing he wanted to give her before she dies is you.

"Anyway,
I'm sorry. I handled it wrong and I shouldn't have brought Dean."

My
brother rarely apologizes. My eyes are strained, so when I glance at him it
makes my head ache. "Where is he, anyway?" I didn't see him inside and the
thought of bumping into him at any moment has me on edge.

Sam
looks at me like I'm making no sense. "Where is who? Dean?" I nod. "He doesn't
come around anymore. Actually, after you left, Ma told Dean she'd bury him in
the garden and use the frying pan she killed him with as his headstone. It was
kind of intense."

I
stare at him in shock. All this time I thought Dean was in my house with my
family. I left because they believed him over me. Sam doesn't realize the
weight of his words. He may be my twin but there's no crosslink between us.
Empathy doesn't flow through some twin-type bond.

Sam
looks over at me with a quizzical look on his face. "What?"

"Do
you know why?"

Sam
shrugs. "No idea. She lost it when you left. Maybe she just took it out on Dean.
I don't know."

"But
you still hung around him?"

"Yeah,
he didn't do anything. He's a good guy, Sid."

I'm
not having this conversation with him, so I don't answer. I resume my blank
stare until Sam gets up and walks away. Dean's his best friend and always has
been. It makes me wonder if Sam cares about me at all. Sometimes I think he
must, but when he says things like that—I don't know anymore.

My
dad steps outside and calls my name. It rekindles memories of playing outside
well past dark and my dad standing at the door and calling us in. On warm
nights like this my mom would make fudge, so being called in wasn't so bad.
I've always had a horrible sweet tooth.

"Coming,"
I say and get off the bench. I've been outside thinking, wondering if I was
right or wrong, and waiting for my mother to wake up. They told me that as her
pain medicine wears off, she wakes up. There are so many things to say to her,
but I haven't settled on anything yet.

"She's
awake and asking for you." Dad smiles at me sadly. "I told her you were here
and she smiled. She hasn't smiled in ages, Sid. Go on up."

Before
I walk away, I throw my arms around him. Dad hugs me back and then shoos me,
telling me to get up there. I climb the stairs and head toward my parents'
bedroom. I ran down these halls as child. If a nightmare woke me, I'd run into
their room so they'd protect me. But now everything is flipped around. My mom
is being destroyed by her own body and no one can save her.

I
stop in front of the door and reach for the knob, ignoring the churning in my
stomach. My mother is awake, maybe for the last time. I need to say what I came
here to say.

I
walk into her old bedroom, but it doesn't look the same. There's a hospital bed
with IV bags dripping from above her. Mom is lying back with her eyelids heavy.
A thin blue blanket covers her legs and is pulled up to her chest, but her arms
are on top. As I get closer I can see what the cancer has done to her, how it's
aged her dramatically. She looks old and frail. Her once-vibrant face is ashen
and hollowed. The dark hair that flowed past her shoulders is gone. People used
to say we look alike. The resemblance is almost gone.

She
doesn't see me. I press my lips together and step closer. "Mom?"

My
mother's been staring straight ahead, but when she hears my voice, her eyes
move, looking for me. I step into her line of sight, and a painful smile
crosses her face. It's so light and fades quickly. "Sidney. You came home."

She
lifts her fingers like she's reaching for me. I take her hand. "I'm home, Mom."
My throat grows so tight that I can't speak. My vision blurs with tears.

Her
voice is so weak—barely a whisper—but she speaks to me. She tells me about her
gardens and asks if the bulbs are up. It's long past frost, but she doesn't
seem to realize that. I listen to her voice and curse myself for not coming
home sooner. I avoided this because I thought there was nothing left here. I
didn't know what happened after I'd gone, I didn't know she turned on Dean.

I
kneel next to her bed and talk about anything and everything until it's time
for her medicine. The conversation drifts to Peter.

"Do
you love him?" I nod slowly. "Then don't let him go." She coughs and her body
stiffens from the pain. I wish this wasn't happening, but I can't stop it. No
one can. I'm going to lose her for good.

"Do
you want me to get help?"

"No."
She grips my hand harder. "I need to say something. After you left, I found
your books. I read them. I wanted to know what I did that was so horrible that
you'd vanish like that." She's so weak. Her words come out in shallow puffs of
air like she can't breathe.

"You
read my journals?" I had several diaries when I lived here. The night I took
off, I left them behind. There was no way to sneak out and take everything with
me.

She
nods slightly. "I wanted to fix it, but by then it was too late. I didn't know.
I couldn't see it. There's no reason to forgive me, and I can't ask you for
that. I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry I drove you away, so sorry, honey."

 "You
believe me?" My voice cracks with shock. Regret floods my chest, drowning me in
remorse.

"Yes,
but I'm too late. I wish I—" Her voice abruptly stops as she tenses in pain.
When it passes, she manages to say, "I'm sorry." She mumbles the words as her
eyes close. The grip on my hand loosens. She's barely breathing.

"You're
not too late, Mom. I love you so much. I'm so sorry." My voice shakes as I say
the words, and in the back of my mind, I know that I won't hear her voice
again. There will be no more conversations, no more laughter or tears. This is
it.

I
return to my swing and wait out the night.

Just
before sunrise I hear it—my father's voice. He wails, and something smashes to
the floor inside the house. I sit there unable to think. Shock washes over me
again and again. My senses deactivate and die within me. Somehow I move from
the swing out back to the staircase where I see my father weeping. I sit next
to him. Neither of us speaks. After a few minutes he takes a deep breath and
wipes the tears away. He grips my shoulder firmly and pulls me against him.

Sam
is standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at us with his shiny face
ghostly white. For a minute, Sam forgets everything else and climbs the stairs
to sit with us.

CHAPTER
25

I
thought I mourned my mother, but I didn't, not like this. I've spent most of
the day on the back swing staring at nothing. Aunt Beth tried to move me and
shoved several plates of food in my hands. I didn't eat any of them. When I put
them on the ground, my turkey wandered over and found me. He ate all the food
and tried to eat the plate, too.

I
grab the plate quickly and put it out of his reach. "I need to get you to a vet
so you can fly again. Walking must suck. Once we get you fixed up, I bet you'll
head over to the Turnpike to hang with the other vultures." Not that I've ever
seen any over there.

Aunt
Beth calls me from the back of the house. I make the bird scat. Aunt Beth
already threatened to stuff him once today. She's been crying and cooking
nonstop along with the other women in my family—well, all of them except me.
For the most part, they've left me alone.

"Sidney,
we're out of flour," she explains, dusting off her hands on the apron my mother
wore so many times. I glance at her shoes. They're white like she dropped the
bag. Flour clings to her pants. She nearly falls to pieces when she tries to
explain what happened.

I
smile at her to stop the tears, "I'm happy to get more, Aunt Beth. Do you want
anything else while I'm there?"

"No,
hon, just the bag of flour. We're trying to finish everything up for tomorrow."
She wipes her hands on the apron and then pulls me into a hug. "I'm glad you're
back."

I
smile and nod. It's what I do when people say that, partly because I don't know
what else to say, but also because I'm not staying. I never intended to stay
here. I came home to bury my mother. After that, I'm heading back to Texas. I
haven't told anyone yet. I think it'll kill my father, but I can't stay here.
Regret is strangling me, and the longer I stay, the worse it gets.

Aunt
Beth walks me into the kitchen. "Oh, take my van. I'm blocking you in." She
tosses me her keys. I catch them and head out.

Aunt
Beth has three little girls and a minivan that smells like SweeTarts. I drive
to the grocery store a few blocks away, hoping that I won't run into anyone I
know. I park her van off by itself, because she'll go batshit crazy if someone
dings the doors, before heading into the store. I find what she wanted and grab
a few other items before heading out. As I'm loading the last bag into the back
of the van, the hairs on my neck prickle. I turn abruptly, expecting to see someone
watching me, but no one is there.

Spooked,
I climb into the van and drive home thinking there's an ax murderer hiding
under the row of seats. I keep glancing back, but no one is there. Still the
feeling of being watched doesn't fade.

When
I arrive at the house, Aunt Beth runs out to grab the bags and disappears
inside. I close the tailgate and turn around. Dean is standing right in front
of me. Our bodies brush together, and when I go to step out of the way, Dean
holds on to my wrist.