seventeen

Grief softens…
(JOEL ROTHSCHILD, SIGNALS)

“Nice to meet you, Angie. You look a lot like your sister.”

Angie reaches out to shake Brenna’s dad’s hand before sinking into a chair in the family room.

“And you look like Brenna,” Naysa comments after being introduced.

“Well, that’s a compliment to me,” Angie says, smiling at Naysa, who is slumped on the couch, arms folded across her chest.

“So how is Kia?” Brenna’s dad asks. “We lost track of her some time ago.”

“She’s fine now,” Angie answers. “She’s working in Uganda for an organization that cares for children born with AIDS.”

“Uganda? In Africa?”

Angie nods.

Her dad glances sharply at Brenna but, to her relief, doesn’t say anything.

The room grows quiet. Angie stands to study the family photos that hang on every wall. “I hear she was really lovely. I’m so sorry.” She doesn’t need to say who she is. They all know.

Naysa stares at her feet, and their dad shifts in his chair. A timer chimes in the kitchen.

“Dinner is ready,” Brenna says. “Let’s eat.”

They move to the table and Brenna directs Angie to Joanna’s chair. While her dad and Naysa get seated, she places a green salad on the table. “Help yourselves,” she says. “I’m going to put out the rest of the food.”

“So I hear you’re in teacher training,” Brenna’s dad says, passing the salad bowl to Angie.

“I am. I’ll be fully qualified by June, and then I’ll be looking for a position, which is another huge challenge.”

“Would you be willing to go north, to a smaller community?”

“Yeah, I think so. For a few years.”

Yet another person who will leave me, Brenna thinks, serving up plates of cheesy spinach-and-mushroom lasagna.

“I hear you play piano,” Angie says to Naysa.

Naysa shrugs. “I used to.” The scowl doesn’t leave her face.

“Kia played the piano,” Angie continues cheerfully, ignoring Naysa’s sullenness. “My parents tried to get me to take it up too, but I hated practicing. Now I regret not learning it, because I think it would be such a stress buster to pour yourself into music. Just belting it out in the shower or even in my car can change my mood,” she says.

Brenna notices a flicker of a smile cross Naysa’s face, and her eyes linger on Angie for a moment.

“And you like to read? Any favorite authors?” Angie asks Naysa.

Between bites of lasagna Naysa quietly rattles off the names of authors and their books.

Angie smiles. “Wow, you’re well-read! Those are some of my favorites too.”

Although Naysa tries to hide it, Brenna can see that she is pleased.

“Naysa’s a really good writer herself,” their dad says. “She used to share some of her short stories with me.”

“Do you like to write too, Brenna?”

Brenna thinks of her journal and her short entries. “Sometimes, but not when it’s a school assignment. I always draw a blank when I have to write an opinion piece or something.”

“Kia likes to write.”

“I know. I have the journal she wrote when she was pregnant with me.”

“That’s right. You mentioned it. I’d love to read it someday.” She looks up from her food. “If you want to share it, of course. And if it’s okay with Kia.”

“Would you like some more lasagna?” Brenna asks, panicked. She gets up and reaches for the pan. “Or garlic bread?” She definitely doesn’t want to share it, her only connection with her birth mom and the one that was just between the two of them.

“I’ll have more,” Naysa says.

Brenna catches her dad’s eye. It’s the first time they have seen Naysa really eat, not just nibble, since her night in the hospital ten days ago.

The conversation begins to flow more easily as they tuck into second helpings and then the brownies that Brenna pulled out of the freezer earlier. Eventually her dad asks Angie if she’d like some tea. Brenna can see that he is relaxing, enjoying Angie’s company.

As they drink their tea, Naysa excuses herself to use the bathroom. Her dad pounces on the opportunity. “Brenna said you might consider doing some tutoring or homeschooling with Naysa,” he says to Angie. “Short-term, of course.”

“I would,” she says.

“Obviously, Brenna has your contact info,” he says. “Could I call you later, when I’ve talked to Naysa?”

“Sounds good.” She smiles.

He nods and changes the subject. Brenna loads the dishwasher, and, to her surprise, Naysa begins washing the pans when she returns to the kitchen.

The final days leading up to Ryan’s departure take on a surreal quality. Brenna’s dad quits reminding her that school nights are for studying. Ryan picks her up and they usually drive over to the park, where they mostly just sit and hold each other, saying very little. Only once do they go back to his house when his uncle is out for the evening.

Nov. 25

How can it feel so good when I’m so miserable?

There’s a total disconnect between mind and body.

Naysa is surprisingly receptive to having Angie tutor her—anything not to return to school, Brenna figures—and she finds Angie in their home after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays, guiding Naysa through her schoolwork. Angie has contacted each of Naysa’s teachers to determine what she’s missing. One night Brenna is startled to hear piano music coming from the living room. Naysa’s mood is improving after only a couple of sessions with Angie, while Brenna’s is plummeting with the approach of Ryan’s departure date.

When Brenna wakes on Saturday morning, the familiar ache in her chest has intensified tenfold. It is Ryan’s last day in Canada. The night before, some of his coworkers had taken him out for pizza, and she’d been invited along. The boys and a few of their girlfriends had kept the mood light, teasing Ryan about some of his moments on the mountain, remembering the practical jokes they’d played on each other. They mimicked his accent and exaggerated his mistakes. There was lots of laughter, and Brenna had struggled to shake her deep sadness, but she’d wished she wasn’t there. It was too hard to play along. She’d gone back to Ryan’s and helped him finish his packing. His uncle was also home, doing his own packing. Ryan had eventually driven her home and promised to be back first thing in the morning so they could spend the entire day together.

Brenna had suggested they return to Brackendale to view the eagles again, so they leave early and head west, stopping at a little diner at Sunset Marina for breakfast. The silence between them is heavy, as are the clouds that hang over the water, obstructing their view of the Sunshine Coast and the islands. They hold hands for the remainder of the trip, listening to music but not singing along. In Brackendale they walk along the river path, Ryan’s arm draped across Brenna’s shoulders and her arm wrapped around his waist. They watch the eagles perched on branches across the river. Occasionally one swoops low over the water and rises back up with a wriggling salmon clutched in its talons. The number of eagles has increased considerably since their first visit. When they arrive at the bench where they had their picnic the time before, they sit down and wrap their bodies together while absorbing the beauty of the river valley. Brenna inhales deeply and closes her eyes.

On their way back they stop for lunch at a small diner on the Squamish River, and they arrive at Grouse Mountain in midafternoon. Brenna hasn’t been on the mountain for several weeks, and the clientele has changed. People carrying skis, snowboards and snowshoes crush Brenna into Ryan as the tram fills. She lays her head on his chest, and he wraps his arms around her. As the tram begins its ascent, it quickly becomes engulfed in a thick mist that swirls around it. Brenna remembers the bright blue sky and the fresh breeze on that day late in the summer when she’d returned to “her mother’s mountain” and Ryan had welcomed her back. So much has changed since then, but the ache in her heart feels every bit as heavy.

They jostle their way through the throng to a bench where they can put on their snowshoes. “This is where the Snowshoe Grind starts,” Ryan tells her. “Serious snowshoers swipe their passes on this post and then try to beat their own personal bests, just like the regular Grinders do. Maybe you’ll want to sign on.”

Brenna shakes her head. “If I keep snowshoeing, it won’t be about speed. It’ll be about enjoying the experience.”

“If you keep snowshoeing?”

They stand up and begin to head toward Dam Mountain, where the snowshoe trails are. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“Maybe you can find someone else to snowshoe with.”

“Still won’t be the same.”

As the climb gets steeper, the snow begins to fall in large wet flakes.

“Just think,” Brenna says, pausing to catch her breath. She tilts her head back to let the snow fall on her face. “In two days you’ll be welcoming in the spring.”

“Does that mean I get to miss a whole winter, or will next winter be my this winter?” he asks.

Brenna shakes her head and smiles at the question. It’s so Ryan. Once again she wonders if she would have been better off if she’d never met him. Then she wouldn’t have to miss him and all his goofy remarks.

When they reach the summit Ryan removes his snowshoes and falls onto his back in a bank of deep, unblemished snow. He slides his arms up and down and drags his legs back and forth.

“A snow angel!” Brenna says.

“Yep.” He gets up carefully to look at the figure he’s left in the snow. Then, using a stick he’s broken off a nearby tree, he prints JOANNA beneath it.

Swallowing hard, Brenna lowers herself to the snow beside the angel and makes another one. Getting up, she takes the stick from Ryan and prints NICK, the name of Ryan’s brother. Ryan takes the stick from Brenna and draws halos above the angels’ heads. Then, with arms around each other, they watch as the falling snow slowly blankets the angels; within minutes they’ve disappeared.

“Did you notice that you kept up with me for the whole climb?” Ryan asks when they are seated in the chalet bistro.

Brenna tips her head. “Yeah…”

“When we first started doing the Grind, I had to slow my pace so you could keep up.”

“But you didn’t today?”

“Not at all. I had to work to keep up with you.”

She thinks about it. “It has gotten easier.”

“You’re a whole lot stronger than you were just three months ago.”

Brenna takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “Do you think I’m stronger on the inside too?” She watches his face for his answer.

He smiles. “That’s harder to measure, but I bet you are. You held up well when Naysa had her…her crisis. And you’re resourceful. You called on Angie for help when you needed it. I’d say that’s showing strength of character.”

“Do you hike in Australia?”

“A little bit, in the Blue Mountains, but my mates are more into surfing.”

They order dinner and then sit quietly, their features soft in the glow of the candlelight. The snow has stopped falling, the clouds have lifted, and the lights of the city twinkle far below them.

Ryan clears his throat. “The past three months have been really special for me,” he says, breaking the long silence. “I was so nervous about asking you to do the Grind with me that first time.”

“You were?” Brenna’s eyebrows arch.

“Oh my god. I almost chickened out. I had to muster up all my courage to cross that mountain and ask you.”

“I’d never have guessed.”

“And each time we hiked, I did everything in my power to make you smile or laugh. Your face…it really…changes when you’re happy. You had me from the first smile.”

“Are you serious? I’m surprised you even noticed me.”

“Oh, I noticed you. And I can also say I wasn’t too surprised when I found out who your mom was. You’re equally lovely.”

Steaming cups of clam chowder are placed in front of them. Brenna picks up her spoon. “I thought I was your service project,” she admits, blowing on the soup.

Ryan looks up from the crusty roll he’s slathering with butter. “My service project? That’s a joke.” He takes a bite and regards her. “Though one thing I have learned is that when you help other people, you tend to help yourself too. So actually, you were helping me.” He nods, affirming what he’s said.

They eat in silence for a few moments, and then Ryan tackles the topic they’ve avoided for the past month. “It’s hard to know where we go from here, Bren. Hopefully I’ll be back, but it’s really hard to say. We’ll keep in touch—Skype, email…”

“It won’t be the same.”

“No. It won’t.”

Ryan puts his spoon down and leans into the table. “Brenna, I’m crazy about you. Maybe we’ll be together again sometime in the future, but even if it doesn’t happen, at least we’ve had this much time together.”

Brenna struggles to remain composed. When the server arrives to take their soup bowls, she excuses herself and goes to the washroom. She sits on a toilet, drops her head between her knees and takes in deep, shuddering breaths. She leans her head back, struggling not to wail at the injustice. She sighs deeply instead. Leaving the stall, she stares at herself in the mirror. The reflection shows a tired, pale face. She forces herself to smile. It’s true her face is transformed, even if it’s a fake smile.

Pulling herself together, she returns to the table. “When I graduate from high school, I’m going to Borneo,” she tells him. “My mom and I planned to go together, but I’m going to go anyway and sprinkle some of her ashes in the jungle.”

“Borneo?”

She tells him about the orangutan sanctuary. “And once I’m in Borneo, maybe I’ll carry on down to Sydney to see you—unless you have a new girlfriend, of course.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes. “It drives me insane to think of you with another guy.”

Plates of fish and chips arrive, and they drip vinegar and ketchup onto their food.

Brenna ignores his comment. “Depending on how much money I’ve saved up from my business,” she continues, putting air quotes around the word, “I may continue on to Uganda—with Angie’s permission, of course. And Kia’s.”

“Maybe I’ll go with you. After we volunteer at the orphanage, we can go on a safari.”

“And then a mountain gorilla trek,” Brenna adds.

“A what?”

Brenna smiles. “I’ve been doing some research on Uganda. It’s one of the few places in the world where mountain gorillas still live, and there’s fewer than a thousand of them left on the planet.” Brenna’s voice grows stronger as she warms to her subject. “Guides take tourists into the jungle, and you get to hang out with a group of gorillas for an hour. Can you imagine? How cool would that be!”

Brenna sits back and then notices the way Ryan is looking at her. “What?”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and they simply gaze at each other.

“Listen to you, Brenna. You have grown strong on the inside.”

She tilts her head.

“You’re looking ahead. Planning your future. That’s huge.”

Brenna thinks about it, remembering the months of inertia when it was almost impossible to climb out of bed each day. “Mom would have wanted me to go to Borneo,” she says. “And now I have an ulterior motive. Borneo’s in the same hemisphere that you live in. Maybe I’m not getting strong so much as I’m figuring out how to see you again.”

“Call it what you want.” Using his fork, Ryan stabs a French fry from Brenna’s plate. His plate is already polished clean. “I’m hoping my mom has grown strong on the inside too. After Nick died, she couldn’t look forward. Couldn’t make plans. She couldn’t function at all. I hope that has changed.”

Brenna remembers that Ryan has a lot of apprehension about going home and seeing his mom. She has been so wrapped up in her own stuff that she hasn’t given it much thought. She passes him her plate, and he passes her his empty one. “This is really hard for you,” she says quietly. “Going home, I mean.”

He sighs and stabs another French fry. “It’s weird. I keep thinking Nick is going to be there, and then I remember that he’s not. Even though it’s been a couple of years, it still hasn’t really sunk in.”

Brenna nods, understanding completely. She often catches herself thinking she should tell her mom something, or do something for her, before remembering that she’s gone.

When their dishes have been cleared away, Ryan rummages in his pack and pulls out a small box. “This is so you’ll remember me and our connection to this mountain,” he says, passing it across the table to her.

Brenna opens it and pulls out a key chain with a heavy silver bear paw dangling from it.

“I know you’re going to get your license soon,” he says. “And I figured you could think of me every time you reach for your keys.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, stroking the smooth paw. “It’s beautiful.”

“And I’m also leaving you my snowshoes. Just to keep for me until I come back.”

Their eyes meet and hold for a long time.

It’s dark and cold in the tram as it begins its descent. They stand in a corner, arms wrapped around each other. Ryan leans down to whisper in her ear. “I love you.”

She simply holds him tighter, finding it impossible to speak.

At noon on Sunday there’s a knock on Brenna’s door.

“C’mon in,” she mumbles.

Naysa comes in and sits on the end of her bed. “Want to do something today?” she asks.

Brenna wants to say no and just lie there thinking of Ryan, who is already thousands of miles away, but she knows Naysa is only trying to help. “What are you thinking of?”

“How ’bout a yoga class?” Naysa asks.

“You don’t do yoga.”

“I’m thinking of starting. My counselor, Dr. Price, recommends it, and Angie says she loves it. I thought maybe you could take me to the studio where you and Mom used to go. Hopefully they have a beginner’s class.”

“Dr. Price recommends it?”

“Yeah, she says it’s good for reducing stress.”

Brenna regards her little sister. “How are you anyway?”

Naysa shrugs. “Good days and bad ones. Probably better than you today anyway.”

“Oh, Naysa, I’m really going to miss him.” Tears stream down Brenna’s face, and she flops back onto her bed and hugs a pillow to her face.

She feels Naysa’s body nestling in beside her. She reaches for her sister’s hand and squeezes it and then allows herself to cry until there are no more tears. They lie together in silence. Finally Brenna stirs. “Let’s go check the yoga schedule.”

The days drag by. Christmas lights begin to appear on houses, and seasonal music can’t be avoided.

Stepping out of the shower one morning, Brenna studies herself in the full-length mirror. She cranes her neck to look at her butt. Simply walking the dogs every day is not going to help her keep her newfound muscle tone, she realizes.

Naysa and Angie have found a couple of yoga classes that the three of them can take together. There are moments when Brenna feels a stab of jealousy at the bond that is clearly growing between her sister and Angie, but mostly she’s so immersed in her own misery that she doesn’t care. Her mood is elevated following each yoga session, but it plummets before they get back to the yoga studio for their next class.

The one thing that keeps getting her out of bed each day is the anticipation of a text from Ryan, and he never disappoints. There’s one waiting for her each morning. They’ve connected on Skype twice, but it was a bittersweet experience. At first it was wonderful to see his face and hear his voice, but when they finally had to disconnect, neither one of them wanted to hit End call. The realization of the distance between them sent her plummeting all over again. She’s decided it’s just as well that the seventeen-hour time difference makes it difficult to find a convenient time to Skype regularly. It’s too hard.

In an email, he’s told her about his tearful reunion with his mom and how they’ve moved back into her apartment. He says she is fragile but no longer numb and distant. He’s applying his get-strong-through-exercise theory and has her out walking and swimming every day, and his uncle has hired a life coach to, as Ryan puts it, help navigate her into her future. Every text and email ends with I love you and miss you.

For the week following Ryan’s departure, Georgialee was willing to listen while she talked about all the things that were so special about him and how much she was missing him, but then she started hinting that Brenna should think about moving on, and Brenna knew Georgialee had reached her limit. How could she possibly understand?

Dec. 12

Mom would understand. I could tell her how much I miss him. I could tell her about all the funny things he says and the kind things he does. She would understand about the snow angels. (How stupid. She was one of them!!) She would listen. She would not tell me to get over him. She wouldn’t suggest I date someone else. She would just get it. Fuck Fuck Fuck

Brenna and her family force themselves to go through the motions of Christmas, but nothing is the same. On Christmas morning, after exchanging gifts with each other, Naysa hands Brenna the last wrapped box under the tree.

“What’s this?” she asks. The package, shaped like a flattened shoe box, is very light, and nothing rattles when she shakes it.

“Ryan sent it for you,” Naysa says. “He messaged me and asked me to watch for it and then hide it until Christmas.”

Brenna holds the box, staring at it.

“Did you send him anything?”

“Yeah, a framed photo of us hiking the Grind. Lame, I know.”

Brenna rips away the gift wrap and lifts the top off the box. “Oh my god!” Two stuffies lie on a cushion of green tissue paper. She grins at the fuzzy faces smiling back at her. One is a baby orangutan and the other is a small gorilla. She lifts them out and finds a couple of folded sheets of paper beneath them. She scans the information. The first is the adoption certificate for a baby orangutan named Cinta who lives in Borneo. Apparently Ryan has adopted a real orangutan in her name and will send small monthly donations for the orangutan’s care. The other sheet is a receipt for a donation made to Gorilla Doctors, an organization that cares for the orphans of gorillas who have been killed by poachers. She hands the sheets to Naysa and her dad, who have been watching her. Then she opens the enclosed Christmas card. There is a letter folded up inside.

Merry Christmas, Brenna!

I chose these two little rascals to remind you of your big trip. I hope they help to keep you focused on making it a reality. (And that way I get to see you too!) Fingers crossed that you’ll get to meet the real Cinta in about a year and a half. (Her name means “love,” which is why I chose her from the bunch.) I also hope they are good company for you until we meet again.

I love you and miss you!

Ryan

Brenna presses the two stuffies to her cheeks and closes her eyes. Deep inside she feels an elusive shift.

Dec. 25

I’m an adoptive mom now too! Of an orangutan. LOL.

Only Ryan could dream up the perfect gift.

Oh my god I adore him.