Taken by Storm (11 page)

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Authors: Angela Morrison

Tags: #Social Issues, #Dating & Sex, #Christian, #Friendship, #Juvenile Fiction, #Sports & Recreation, #General, #Religious, #Water Sports, #Death & Dying

BOOK: Taken by Storm
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i look down at our hands. “i don’t believe there’s anything after. More than this. It’s over. You really think there’s heaven?”
 
“It’s real. I know it is. I’ve been told it all my life, but now I’ve seen it.” She squeezes my hand. “It could be real for you, too.”
 
“i don’t think so.” My eyes seek the snapshot across the room. “We always just dove.”
 
“Life is so much more than that.”
 
i drop her hand. “You don’t know—you don’t dive.”
 
“I had to write this essay for, well, that doesn’t matter, but it was about what has shaped my life the most.” She captures my hand again. “These past few years with my grandmother made me stop taking things for granted.” She strokes the back of my hand with her hurt one. “To see Grandma like that, healed and whole. I’ll never be the same.” She rests her head on my shoulder. “You’ve exhausted the diving opportunities around here. Maybe you’d like to try something new.”
 
i shake my head again, but i let her keep hold of my hand. i lay my cheek on the top of her head and breathe her in deep.
 
She wants me to try her faith? Maybe i’ll just try her.
 
i wake with the dusty gold afghan from the back of the couch tucked around me. i don’t know when i fell asleep, when Leesie left. This morning the water is blue, clear, like in the pool, but i can’t look. Please, give me quarry vis. Thawing stinks. Warm flesh hurts. That
be strong
crap is a joke. Walking? Talking? School?
 
No way.
 
chapter 13
 
INSPIRATION
 
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
 
POEM #28, FAMILY PRAYER FOR MICHAEL
 
stephie climbs on dad’s back while he kneels,
head bowed, half strangled
as she grasps him around the neck calling,
Pick me, pick me.
 
 
I hit my knees as she pipes,
Dear Heavenly Father,
shrill into the night air.
 
 
Thank thee for Mom and Dad and Leesie and Phil and me, too.
Bless us nothing bad will happen.
 
 
and bless michael. about time
you blessed michael.
 
 
Help the people who are hungry get something to eat.
Bless that Leesie and Phil will be nice.
 
don’t worry about leesie.
she’ll survive.
Bless michael.
 
 
Help us not miss Grandma too much.
And bless the pigs, especially the mama ones with
new babies.
 
 
and michael, please don’t forget
my michael.
 
 
In the name of Jesus Christ,
amen.
 
LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/5 12:13 P.M.
 
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
 
POEM #29, NAIL PRINTS
 
Four little marks, pink half-moons,
that record his grief on the back of my hand.
they sting when I touch them—
but how can I discover what he means
with my baby sister’s Barbie Band-aids
blurring my vision?
 
 
strange how I hide his prints
from mom’s prying eyes,
how my throat closes when I glimpse them,
sore and puffy, as I walk through crowded hallways
empty without him, how my lips
ache to touch them
even though they are on the back of
my own hand.
 
 
strange how I guard them
from ointments and aloes,
hoping the thin scabs
will scar me with his
nail prints.
 
LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/6 11:39 P.M.
 
chapter 14
 
CONFESSIONS
 
LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/07 9:42 P.M.
 
LEESIE HUNT / CHATSPOT LOG / 10/07 9:56 P.M.
 
LEESIE’S MOST PRIVATE CHAPBOOK
 
POEM #30, WHO?
 
I stand in the bathroom and brush
my hair shiny.
I want it silk for him:
I want his hands in it
again,
his tan cheek nestling on it
again,
I want his arms to clutch me so close
I can feel him
inhale—
Who am I?
 
 
Who is this girl who commandeered
his hand? Who soothed him and testified?
Who aches to hold him?

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