Red Lightning (18 page)

“
Ay, dios mío
.” She says this disapprovingly. “But he's liked you for so long. Back and forth you two go. Just
decide
, Tess. Decide to go for it. Loud up your heart.”

I smile. Our old conversation, relived. “He's at the old house, the one I grew up in. He brought you here. He paid your way as a gift to me.
Ay, mija
, we need to tell him you're alive.”

Chapter Fourteen

I stand in the middle of NoWhere, Colorado, my homeland. In front
of me is the podunk crummy house that held the enormity of my childhood; at my feet is a red cooler with a smashed red bow on top. I open it up and see that Slade has provided well for me, offered up my version of frankincense and myrrh: Seagram's 7, 7 Up, a plastic cup, some pot, aspirin, and a note.
Worried about you. Drove by Libby's and Kay's looking for you this morning. Was discreet and didn't stop—but want to check on you. Don't do anything stupid. Drove up to the reservoir. You know the direction I'll be at. Worried I might be seen here. I'll spend the day up there. Gonna fish. I threw away my cell phone, didn't want any way to be tracked. No way to reach me, I'll be back. Be there with your family. It's a good idea. Chin up. Together we'll figure out the next steps
.

I pour myself a drink and sit on the cooler, hold my hot head to my hands, and glance at Ed's orange VW bus that got me here. Something about the purple of the house, the orange of the bus, the blue of the sky makes my head spin. I should go check on Kay, I should find Slade to tell him the news. But the Seagram's and 7 Up sliding cool down my hot throat, the yellow leaves, the white puffs of cloud, turquoise sky.

Oh, universe, thank you. Alejandra is alive. Really, that is something. All of them: Libby, Amber, Lupe, Alejandra—all alive, and each of them has someone, they have family, and, yes, really, that is something. I stare at the old house, a small violet square in a vast expanse of fields. From here I can see the rusted-out cars. The birdbath Kay used as a cigarette tray. The burn barrel where once I saw the streamers floating out with the WELCOME HOME TESS AND BABY AMBER sign that Libby had made in her lastditch effort to keep me around. The rise of a windmill and a few trees near which a hawk circles.

The memories flood. There I am on the day we moved in: a skinny-legged young kid in jeans and a red T-shirt standing at the threshold of the house, afraid to walk in the door of this new and dark place. Kay walking by me, carrying cardboard boxes from the bed of the pickup, mumbling about leaving our old life behind, starting a new chapter in a place where the bills could be met and she could finally relax.

There is Libby, my big sister, saying,
Come, Tess, come look at these purple flowers, come look at the barn, it's all empty and abandoned! Come look at these barrels where you burn trash! Come look!

There I am, later in the day: cautious and watching an old man with blue eyes and white hair poking from a ballcap introducing himself as Baxter. I wander by so I can listen to him discussing with Kay the details of the deal, free rent in exchange for work as a ranch hand. Libby is at my side, whispering.
See that big farmhouse across that field? That's where that man lives. He's our landlord. He owns this ranch. He has cows over in a far pasture. We can pet them!

There I am, new backpack and shoes, standing at the doorway of this house, afraid to step from the dark cool out into the hot morning for my first day at a new school that has PIRATES as its mascot. There I am the next year and the next, new backpack, new shoes. Older. Year
by year. Marked only by sharp points: the time I broke my arm, the time Libby's cat died, the time Kay was covered in vomit and pee and Libby said,
I'm not sure we should drink when we get older
. The time Kay dated the guy with the eyepatch, the time she dated the one with the motorcycle, the time she dated no one and drank even more. The rest is a blur. Of breakfasts. Of homework. Of running through alfalfa fields. But mostly a blur of fear. Why, Tess, why? Because my voice would not work. Words would not come. My body was too small. The world was too loud, the screaming too sudden, the wall too hard, the slaps too stinging, the choking too tight.

There were no words that could protect me.

But, yes, there were.

Libby's sharp voice:
That's enough, Mom. Leave her alone
.

Baxter's low growl,
You'll be leaving now and not be coming back
, to a boyfriend of Kay's, and then Baxter turning to Kay with fury in his eyes and saying,
That's enough of that now. You'll be leaving that life alone
.

They found the words. I raise a toast to Baxter and to Libby.

And then to Kay, who in all those years was lonely and strungout and surprised by the stupidity of life. Now her time is up. Her clock is stopping. I raise my glass and murmur a toast to the stars, whose cold distraction only confirms my suspicion that they long ago disassociated from the warmth the world had to offer. I wish they would come back and give us another try.

*

And wouldn't you know it, but there is Kay, sitting in her chair, her
seagreen eyes flaring at me. Is that possible? That I'm standing above her all of a sudden? Is that my voice? Did I really fling my drink into the grass? Put down the cup? Walk over here?

Is that really her in front of me, working so hard to breathe? Is
that her face, skin pulled so tight over bone? Are those her hands folded over her belly that once housed me? Are those her eyes, softening? Kay, Kay—

Can you help me? Can you help me understand?

Because I feel only half here, but I can't find the other half.

You birthed me. But you birthed an unwhole human. Where is the rest of me?

Did you witness its departure? Can you help me get that part of me back?

I'm asking you for real.

I was hoping you might know.

I keep sweeping my heart, looking for the missing piece. Which corner is it in?

Tess, Tess— I didn't, I couldn't— Try to understand—

Kay— And now you're leaving? What gives you that right? You need to fix things first. You need to make some things right. Clean up your mess. Please help me find the missing piece.

Tess, Tess—

The missing piece. It's there. I see it.

If anyone can see it, I can. We had much in common. That's how I know.

You'll find it sooner than I did.

You'll find it soon. You're nearly there.

PART IV

Air

Chapter Fifteen

I open my eyes to Libby's face, and I gasp for air. My throat burns. I
close my eyes to go back into the dark. Open them, blink, gasp. Our eyes meet across a great distance though she is right in front of me. Deepdoebrown eyes. She is saying something, and I hope her breath sends oxygen into my body. I gasp to suck in her air. I want her oxygen to fling itself into my body. I feel the ache of my heart and the thumping of my head. I feel my bones scratching to get out.

*

I open my eyes because some voice is demanding I do so. It's a man
this time, olive skinned, wire-framed glasses circling dark eyes. “You will wake up now, miss. You're in the hospital. Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name? Wake up now.”

I look at him and nod, but my mouth forms no words, and there is not enough air. My hands fly like birds to my face, but there are plastic tongs in my nose and he is guiding my hands back down. “Let that be,” he says. The side of my face feels bulky and swollen, my mouth feels
like cotton. I close my eyes to calm the terror. My ears seek out noises to place me: a nearby motor clicking, the screech of a cart far away, the hiss of fluorescent lights, the burst of an intercom, a man's voice, the squeak of a door, the boom of my pulse in my ears.

He leans closer. “Wake up.”

*

Later, I wake. He is talking to me again, and I keep my eyes closed
, but I hear fragments: “Could even be sepsis, from that infection in your mouth. We'll have all the blood work back soon to confirm.”

Then, to someone else, “Her blood pressure was low and her heart rate was up. We have the basic lab work, but we need the rest. It will be in soon.”

Directed back at me: “Miss? Can you open your eyes? I wonder if you have had abdominal pain and difficulty breathing? Have you been vomiting? You are anemic. We have blood cultures pending. Can you understand me? Can you tell me your name?”

*

Later, I wake. I open my mouth, but the ache is too great. I close it
gently. There are no words anyway.

Again, the man is beside me. “I have you on a broad-spectrum antibiotic via IV. We need the cultures back before I decide what to do next. I also believe you've been hard on your body. General malnutrition.” When I look up at him, hazyeyed, he nods to a plastic bag hanging from a metal hanger. “Do you see that? That is what we call a ‘banana bag,' which is vitamins and minerals.” He reaches out and turns my face toward him. “Your sister just left. She will be back. You're going to feel better now.”

I try to drift off, but he shakes me awake.

His face softens. “Your sister is a friend of mine. She says . . . Well, I do believe that perhaps your life has not been so easy of late, miss. I do think that perhaps now it will get better.” It's his tenderness that brings tears in my eyes, which he notes, and he reaches out to touch my shoulder.

*

Later, I wake. He is at the foot of my bed, talking with Libby. I close
my eyes so I can just listen.

I hear,
Blood work is in. The oral antibiotics now is fine. We can take out the IV
.

I hear,
She must have been feeling quite terrible
.

I hear,
The pain meds for her teeth are important. That must have hurt very much
.

I hear,
Release as late today as we can manage; bring her back in the morning for a checkup
.

*

I wake again to find the room empty, which seems a relief, and I
stare at the ceiling until I hear a noise. “Is Kay sick? Did I somehow kill her?” The words fly out of me the moment Libby comes walking in the room, a handful of blooming purple alfalfa in one hand. She puts the bundle of blooms on the table next to me. It smells like only alfalfa can smell, the deep green, rich soil, hint of purple, and the opposite of what I feel, bonedry. “Don't be scared. The noise you hear is the heart monitor. There's also the IV pump for a bit yet. I'm sure your mouth hurts a lot. It's okay if you don't want to talk much. Kay is alive.”

“Oh, Libby.” My tongue is thick and my jaw aches with the movement. “I've gone crazy, haven't I?”

She leans toward me and takes my hand. “How do you feel?”

I brush her comment away with a lift of my hand, a small motion because of the tug of an IV. “I remember . . . sitting in the field, right near the old house. Remembering stuff about when we were young. I was sitting there, all these memories flowing into my brain, and I couldn't stop them—”

She reaches out to touch my forehead. “There I was, in the bathroom, getting hot towels, and suddenly you were at the doorway, asking questions and crying.” She turns away from me. “Ed and Amber had just gone home to do chores. It was you and me and her. Do you remember? That she said she was sorry?” Libby moves back some of my hair. “She's at home. She's got an infection in her PICC line. She won't come in. She has a DNR. She's ready. I've called hospice to go out to the farmhouse, to help her with the pain.”

I close my eyes. “Oh, I shouldn't have . . .”

Libby's voice gets thick, like her own throat is constricting. She turns away, wipes her face. “She apologized, Tess. I've never heard her say
I'm sorry
. But she did. To you, and to me. Tess, I think maybe Kay infected the PICC line on purpose. I saw a clamp. It wasn't threaded right. I think she pulled off the cap.”

The intercom in the hallway blasts a call. There's the squeak of shoes, the murmur of voices. “Is there time? I want to tell her that I'm sorry too . . .”

“Well, yes. When they discharge you. Which they want to do before three
PM
. There should be enough time.”

“And they did some tests?”

“You're not so healthy at the moment. Good thing Dr. Lemon is my friend. He was very thorough.”

“His name is Dr. Lemon?”

“Everyone just calls him that because no one can pronounce his last name.”

“What, one of those poor medical students who got assigned to NoWhere, Colorado, so that he can pay off his medical school bills?”

She smiles. “Yes, actually. Yes.”

“My mouth really hurts.”

“The dentist left before you woke up. Do you remember? I think they went ahead and put you under so they could work with your mouth. What a mess. Whoever pulled your tooth left in two roots, Tess, which became infected. She cut your gums and scraped out the infection. Try to leave it alone. “