I awoke the next morning to a knock on my bedroom door. Killian was still sound asleep beside me. “Savannah?” It was Tish. I rubbed my eyes and peered around the room, and then at the clock on the table beside the bed. 7:30 in the morning, as evidenced by the sunlight filtering through the branches of the sycamore outside my window. I’d fallen asleep and missed the chance to snoop around in my past.
I sat up carefully, not wanting to disturb Killian, who felt a little feverish to me again. Hurrying to the door, I opened it. “Hey.”
“Sorry to wake you. I just wanted to see what your plans were for the day—see if you needed a ride. Jordan doesn’t teach until a little later—ten, I think—and of course, he can pick you up then, but if you wanted to go earlier, Sebastian is leaving shortly, and I’m heading out in about an hour. The hospital is sort of on the way for any of us.”
“Oh. Well, can you give me a minute and let me call my dad really quickly?” I ran my fingers through my hair, tugging the messy strands into a loose knot at the nape of my neck.
I ended up not going to the hospital at all that day. Dad said Mom had another rough night and was exhausted. Although he didn’t tell me not to come, he did make a point to say she needed her rest. I wondered if perhaps she didn’t want to see me—that the shock of learning about Killian was more than she could handle right now. I had to be okay with that. It wasn’t her fault she’d found out this way.
“What if I stay home and do some things around here to get the place ready for her to come home? I can read up on taking care of people with halo braces if you’ll give me access to your computer in your office. That way, Killian can chill around here for a day and work on getting those molars cut. He’s been working on them for three days now, so we’re probably through the worst of it already.”
After Tish and Sebastian left, I spent the day doing what I’d wanted to do last night. Dragging Killian along on my adventure, I nosed into everything in the house. In my parents’ closet, Killian tried on Dad’s shiny church shoes and Mom’s peekaboo-toe high heels while I burrowed into their hanging clothes, breathing in the faint notes of Dad’s nondescript aftershave, and the sharper citrus blend of Mom’s Cool Water perfume. Dad and I had carefully selected that particular one out of all the fragrances at Sephora’s for Mother’s Day the year I was six, and she’d loved it, making it her signature scent. I cried at the overwhelming relief I felt from knowing she still wore it.
We poked our head into Sebastian’s room, but that was all. I might have done more last night, especially without Killian on my heels, but in the light of day, I chickened out. Dad’s office looked almost exactly the same as it did when I left. On his desk, however, was the last picture I remember him taking of me. I was sitting in the opening of my fairy boat, looking like I’d just swallowed a mouthful of sunshine and happy thoughts. It was the day before Jordan came home that summer, and I was bursting with anticipation.
It was like looking at a stranger.
After I loaded up another chunk of frozen fruit in one of the mesh pacifier things Stella had brought over last night, we headed out to the front yard. I wanted to introduce Killian to my tree.
My boy was no stranger to trees and the outdoors, and I had no qualms about boosting him the few feet to the first low branch where he braced his feet on either side like a little monkey. Dad and I had carefully pruned the sycamore so the branches grew close together, but in alternating heights so it was easy to climb. We didn’t go more than a few feet higher than the lowest branch, but I made Killian stop where I could still lift him down if he needed help. I helped him settle his backside into the crotch of a branch and perched next to him, and we sat there eating our fruit; him, his frozen mango and me, a shiny Gala apple I’d found in the fridge. Killian jabbered away around his treat, and I admonished myself for forgetting a washcloth to clean him up.
“Oh well, wild child. You’re going to just have to be sticky until we climb down.”
“Hey, you two!” It was Jordan coming up the walk, a bright smile on his face. He ducked beneath the branches and peered up at us. “Feeling better, Killer?”
Killian thrust the treat out toward Jordan to show him, splattering all three of us with mango juice and drool.
“Ew! Gross!” I grabbed his wrist to keep him from waving it around anymore, but now he was laughing, having discovered a new game. I looked over to see that Jordan had stepped back and was wiping at his face with both hands. “Killian.” I giggled. “You got yucky stuff all over Jordan.”
Killian snickered and blew a raspberry with his lips, splattering me again. I laughed out loud; what else could I do? Now we all needed a washcloth.
Jordan bravely offered to keep a hand on Killian’s back while he scampered down the tree as though he’d been born in it, and I followed behind, relishing in the familiar scaly texture of the bark beneath my grip. I’m home, tree!
We cleaned up inside and chatted for a few minutes before Jordan left. “I have to go change my shirt again because of you, buddy.” He ruffled Killian’s hair. Turning back to me, he added, “I’m working until six this evening. Tish and Sebastian usually get home around that time on Mondays, too, and they said they’d pick up dinner if you’re okay with us converging on you here tonight. Hope you like Chinese food.”
“That sounds good,” I agreed. “I’ll make some sun tea, too. I found Mom’s tea bag stash today. Right where it’s always been.”
“Perfect. We’ll see you this evening.” He started to leave, and then turned back around. “Hey, Savannah? If you need anything, my dad is working at home today so you just call him, okay? I saw Mom left you our list of numbers, so don’t be afraid to use it. Or you can call me and I’ll come running…”
“Please don’t sing again.” I laughed, but I promised him I’d call if I needed anything at all.
While Killian napped, I let Pete in to keep me company, and I got online to research everything I could find—and stomach—on halo care. I watched a halo being put on a woman while she was awake and almost lost my lunch, and I cried as I watched a pretty young teenager have hers taken off after wearing it for three months. Three months! I read up on how to keep the screw sites clean—they referred to them as pins, but I’d seen them screw those puppies in—how to clean under the sheepskin-lined vest without taking it off, how to wash and dry a person’s hair, and even how to change clothes around one. Strapless bras, dresses, and tube tops were the apparel of the hour with halo wearers, and for those more modest, topped off with a big, button-up shirt. Mom was going to freak out.
Pete followed me around the house while I picked up all the throw rugs so she wouldn’t trip, moved her favorite chair so that she could sit with the television straight in front of her—she couldn’t turn her head at all—and pulled all the extra pillows from the linen closet and piled them on her side of the bed. I’d wait until she got home to arrange them, but according to every YouTube video I watched, pillows were the key to comfort, whether sitting or lying down. It almost seemed like Pete was checking my work, and I found myself discussing everything I did with him. He had the best eyes I’d ever seen on a dog.
The more I researched, the more I realized that my parents needed me here. At least for the first several weeks, Mom would need someone to help her do everything, and I meant everything. As much as Dad loved her, and as much as she trusted him to keep loving her, if I knew her at all, I was sure she’d rather have me in the bathroom until she figured things out, rather than him. “There’s something sexy about a woman who keeps her bathroom activities a mystery to her husband,” she used to say to me. I couldn’t count the times I wished for more privacy at camp.
What was I going to tell Marek? How could I convince him to let me stay for several weeks? Surely if I just explained about Mom, about everything I’d learned today, he’d understand. He may not like it, but he’d have to agree it was what I should do.
I listened intently for any sounds of Killian stirring upstairs. When I was certain all was quiet, I called Marek again, carefully blocking the Caller ID. My hands were shaking as I held the handset to my ear. I was fairly certain Marek didn’t have anything planned for today—at least, he hadn’t informed me of anything on the schedule—so when he didn’t pick up, I opted not to leave a message. Taking a deep breath, I dialed my phone, the one Marek had now, remembering to block the house number.
The words Marek roared into the phone were so vile that I jerked the handset away from my ear and stared at it. Even from an arm’s length away, I could hear the foul things he was yelling—he assumed I was Jordan responding to one of his calls. I pushed the “End Call” button and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Staring at the silent phone, I waited for it to spontaneously combust in my hand after the flare of obscenities that had scorched my ears.
Marek was not going to understand anything.