AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The phone dangling between long skinny fingers with bitten-down nails, her smile defeated, voice gone hoarse with unspent tears, as she says, “Daire, it’s your grandmother. She really needs to speak with you.”
four
“Close your window so I can crank up the heat—it’s cold out there.”
I glance over my shoulder long enough to shoot Jennika a scathing look, but I’ve been shooting her so many of them over the last few days it washes right over her. She’s grown as immune to my scowls as she has to my protests.
I bring my knees to my chest, allowing my heels to hang off the edge of the seat as my index finger prods the small square switch next to my armrest.
Pushing, then letting it go.
Pushing until it’s almost there—then lifting my finger and watching it pause.
The window rising and halting in annoyingly short little spurts, but she ignores that as well. Preferring to divert her attention to more pleasant things like driving within the lines and fiddling with the rental car’s radio—correctly assuming her refusal to acknowledge my game will bore me into obeying.
I force the window all the way up and shift toward the door until I can no longer see her. My shoulders hunched, arms hugging my knees, trying to make myself smaller, more distant, pretending that I’m not really here.
I wish I wasn’t here.
My forehead pressed flush to the window, I blow a small patch of foggy circles onto the glass as I say, “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.”
It’s about the hundredth time that I’ve said it. The hundredth time I’ve shot her a disparaging look to go with it. But to her credit, she just looks at me sideways and says, “Trust me, I can’t believe I am either. But since neither of us could come up with a better solution, this is the solution that stuck.”
“You realize you’re abandoning me?” I gnash my teeth together, fight to get a grip on my temper—the fear I can’t shake no matter how many times we rehash it. “You do get that, right?” I twist in my seat
, stare hard at her profile, but she just keeps her hands on the ten and two position, and her eyes on the long stretch of road that meanders ahead. “You’re putting me in the care of some crazy old man, so I can go live with some crazy old lady you’ve only met once. Once! And even then it was only for like ten seconds at my dad’s funeral. I mean, what kind of woman bails on her own son’s funeral?” I glare, challenging her to explain but only allowing a few seconds to pass before I’m at it again. “And yet, here you are, speeding across state lines so you can dump me off and be rid of me once and for all. Nice job, Jennika. Seriously. Way to parent.” My hands clench so hard my nails bite into my palms, leaving deep red crescent marks that take a while to fade.
That’s it, I tell myself. Do not say another word. It’s a waste of your time. Her mind is made up.
But I can’t commit. I’m far too wound up and it’ll only get worse. Despite the fact that it doesn’t really matter what I say or do at this point—doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference either way. Nice—mean—calm—freaked—the result is the same. Ever since Paloma called, I’ve tried them all, and the verdict hasn’t changed.
“It’s not like I was flooded with options.” Jennika looks at me, her gaze narrowed in a way I know all too well. “I could either send you to stay with your grandmother, or lock you away in some mental institution for an undetermined amount of time, where those doctors you hate so much promise to keep you in a permanently drugged state until they can come up with a better plan. And yeah, maybe you’re right, maybe I barely know Paloma, but as I’ve already told you, your father loved her dearly, never once said a bad word about her, and at least for the moment anyway, I’m afraid his endorsement will have to suffice. If it turns out she can’t help, then we’ll go to plan B. But, in the meantime, we all agreed this was the best way to proceed. Besides, Paloma promised to let me know right away whether or not she can help you.”
“And you trust her?” My lip curls to a sneer. “You trust some woman you don’t even know? You trust her to tell you the truth, to not drug me—or—or do something worse? And what about the guy she’s sent to meet us? You’re just going to hand me over to some creepy old man you’ve never even met? What if he’s a pervert or a serial killer—or both?”
The accusation hangs heavy between us, a barrier that cannot be breached—or at least that’s what I think until she says, “I trust you.” And when she looks at me, my throat goes so lumpy I can’t speak. “I trust that what you see and experience is all too real for you, even if I can’t see or understand it myself. But, Daire, we’ve been given a chance, an opportunity to help you in a nonclinical, all-natural kind of way, and I feel we have to at least give it a go. It kills me to sit back and watch you suffer like this. As your mother, I should be able to help you, spare you the pain you’re going through, and yet everything I’ve done so far, every choice I’ve made, only seems to make you feel even worse than before. So yeah, I think we have to at least give Paloma a chance—see what she can do. You may not know her, but she is your grandmother. And just so you know, I would never just drop you off and hand you over to some creepy, old, serial killer, pervert as you claim. He happens to be Paloma’s close and trusted friend. He’s also a well-respected, much-sought-after veterinarian. I did Google him, you know.”
“Oh, so you Googled him? Oh, well, that changes everything then, doesn’t it? What could I possibly worry about now that I know you’ve conducted such a thorough Internet search?” I roll my eyes, shake my head, and gaze out the window again, adding, “As for my dad—if Grandma’s so great, then why’d he leave home at sixteen? Hunh? Do you have an excuse for that too?” I frown. Slide a finger under my bandage where I pick at the thick trail of scabs on my arm, waiting to see how she’ll wiggle out of that one.
“For your information, Django wasn’t running from her—he was running from what he considered to be a stifling life in a very small town.”
“A stifling life in a very small town?” I repeat the words back to her, my voice loaded with sarcasm. “Charming, Jennika, seriously charming.” I huff under my breath, push my hair off my face. “Do you even listen to the things you say? You actually sound happy about condemning me to live in the same stifling Siberia my dad couldn’t wait to escape.”
“So you’d prefer the institution? Is that what you’re saying?” She looks right at me, her green eyes narrowed on mine, but I refuse to respond. “Besides,” she continues, pushing her pink strip of hair off her forehead and tucking it behind her multipierced ear. “According to you, Paloma’s already helped. According to you, you’ve been feeling much better since we got you off the drugs and onto the herbs, and you certainly seem to be doing better from what I can see.”
“Whatever,” I grumble, unwilling to tell her the truth, that the effect is temporary at best. As much as I don’t want to go to Paloma’s, I want to go to the mental institution even less. “But did you ever stop to think that there might be a third choice—one that you never considered? Now that I’m doing so much better, I don’t see why I can’t just continue with the herbs and follow you to Chile.”
“No,” Jennika says, though her tone lacks the venom the word implies. “It’s not even an option. The fact that you’re doing better only leads me to think that Paloma just might be able to help you kick this for good. Besides, it’s not like I won’t check in. I’ll call every day—I’ll write to you too! And before you know it, I’ll be headed your way. As soon as we wrap, I’ll catch the first plane out, I swear.”
She lifts her hand from the wheel, extends her pinky toward me, her silver ring catching the light, winking at me, as she waits for me to curl my pinky around hers. But I don’t. Instead, I just say, “So it’s settled then. There’s no room for debate. I’m going to live with some crazy old witch doctor who counts a creepy, old, perverted, serial killer, veterinarian among her friends. Awesome.” I nod, gracing her with a smile that’s anything but genuine. “If I live through it, I’ll be sure to include it in my memoirs. And if not, you can include it in yours.”
Jennika shakes her head in a way that tells me I’ve pushed all her limits. “She’s not a witch doctor and you know it.” Her nose twitches with the effort of keeping her voice steady—the movement causing the tiny diamond that flanks her right nostril to shimmer and blink. “She’s a very respected healer, and honestly, Daire, I get that you’re upset. I get that you feel abandoned and choose to express your fears by acting out. And while I’m very sorry for all that you’re going through, for all that’s happened to bring us to this point—I can’t help but wonder if you ever, just for one single moment, stopped to consider how this whole scenario might play for me?” She pauses, gives me a chance to reply, but since we both know I haven’t considered this, she’s quick to move on. “If you think this is easy—if you think I feel good about this—if you think I don’t second-guess this decision every chance that I get, think again. You’re all that I’ve got. You’re the only thing I truly care about. If something happened to you—” Her breath hitches as her eyes go so bleary I can tell she’s picturing her version of a life without me and she doesn’t like what she sees. “Well, let’s just say that I’d never forgive myself. And yet, there’s no doubt this thing is bigger than me, bigger than both of us. Leaving me with only two choices, neither of which thrill me. Though I think you’ll agree that going to stay with your grandmother is by far the lesser evil.”
I shake my head in response. I roll my eyes too. But the fight’s seeping out of me and that’s all I can bring myself to do.
The conversation fading as quickly as the ribbon of highway that streams under our wheels. Leaving me to stare out my window, unwilling to look back at where I’ve been, too frightened to look forward into the big vast unknown.
I just close my eyes tightly and strive to hang onto whatever remains of my sanity. Not wanting Jennika to know that Paloma was right—the herbs only hold for a while, and after that time stops marching and the glowing peopl
