An agreement of sorts

In my family

my dad was always

the brave one.

The one who’d

check under

my bed and in

my closet

at bedtime

to make sure

the monsters were gone.

The one who’d

kill the giant spider

while Mom, Kelly, and I

went screaming

into the other room.

The one who’d

sleep with a baseball bat

under his side of the bed,

ready for intruders.

I reach for the

silver sand dollar

hanging from my neck,

hidden under my shirt.

I missed Dad when he moved out.

I still miss him sometimes,

even though we see each other often.

I miss seeing him at the dinner table

or on the couch watching a game.

I just miss him being there.

I try to imagine

myself in Cade’s shoes,

having to be the brave one

for a change.

Having to rescue my dad

from the big, ugly spider.

I’d be scared, but I’d do it.

Just like I know

Cade is going to do it.

He reaches over

and touches my

silver dollar.

“It’s beautiful,” he says.

“A gift from my dad.”

He nods.

Waits a minute.

“My dad didn’t ask me to do it, you know.

To be the donor.

I volunteered.

I just … I didn’t know I’d be this scared.”

Now that is a beautiful gift.

“I think the fear is normal, Cade.

Just don’t let it win.”

He whispers, “I won’t if you won’t.”

Sweet dreams

It’s cold.

And late.

We pack up

and head inside.

Cade has to be at

the hospital by eight.

“You need sleep,” I tell him.

“Let’s rest for a few hours.”

In a chilly, dark room

at the back of the house,

we crawl into his bed,

and we spoon.

I’ve been wondering something.

So I ask him.

“What was with the boat today?”

He strokes my hair.

Kisses my ear.

“I want to tell Dad it’s ready to go.

That it’s here, waiting for us.

That in four or five months, we’ll be fishing again.”

I smile.

That’s good.

Fear isn’t the only thing he’s feeling.

“Did you see that movie?” I ask after a while.

He mumbles, “What?”

He’s so tired. Almost asleep.

“Hope Floats,” I whisper.

“I’ve always loved that title.”

Messy

I can’t sleep.

My thoughts won’t let me.

So, while he sleeps,

I go to the kitchen,

and I clean.

All those dirty dishes,

left behind by a woman

consumed with worry.

She shouldn’t have to

come home to them

and be reminded

of that worry.

She should come home

and feel relieved.

Relieved the worst is over.

Relieved the house is clean.

The act of scrubbing

soothes my soul, just a little.

Still, my thoughts

keep spinning

around and around

like the sponge

in my hand.

How can I leave him?

How can I say good-bye,

let him go to the hospital,

a place he hates,

a place he fears?

I put the last dish away.

The kitchen is clean.

But everything else?

What a mess.

Crunch time

I open the sliding-glass door

to let the cool breeze

rush in and chase away

the stale air.

Goose bumps rise

on my arms.

The waves pound the shore

in the distance, and home

seems so far away.

I think of Mom in bed,

trying to sleep,

but thinking of me.

Maybe Kelly’s with her.

I hope she’s with her.

The affectionate one.

The pretty one.

The one who looks like Mom,

with her blue eyes and blond hair.

Kelly was right.

I was selfish,

to do this to them.

But I had to come.

I had to get away.

The day before

your life changes

is a big day.

But it’s not

the day before

anymore.

The day is here.

The day I’ve dreaded,

and now dread even more,

is here.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14