Brightside (13 page)

I had one hand holding her tiny head to keep it from quivering. The other picked all the yellow hairs off the leather. No need to give Mom another reason to freak out. She’d found Sunny throwing up in her room, fur falling off in clumps. Dad had carried her to the car.

I was in the back seat, leaning into the corner furthest from Mom. The safest spot.

Mom pulled over to the curb. “Okay, you two get out. Go do whatever you have to.”

Dad was in the seat right front of me, his head three feet away. When he said Mom’s name, he stretched it out, let her know it wasn’t right for her to talk like that.

Mom pulled down the sun visor, checked her fire red hair in the lighted mirror,
poofed
up the sides. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

She hadn’t. But she was thinking she hoped they’d put Sunny to sleep.

Dad opened the passenger door, put one foot on the sidewalk. “Are you going to park? We might be a while.”

“And I’ll be here,” Mom said.

Dad got out and opened the back door, helped with Sunny. She was shaking real bad in Dad’s hands so he gave her back to me once I got on the sidewalk. I held her against my belly and cradled her with both arms. She looked up with eyes that’d lost all their shine.

The sliding doors opened and a blast of cold air blew down from the vent. Sunny shuddered real hard, needed to be held tighter, have a hand on her bony back to keep her warm.

There were two people at the counter and nearly every seat in the waiting room had someone in it. A dog or cat by their feet. Most of the animals didn’t look sick. Not like Sunny.

Dad got in line, looked down and saw me shaking. “Why don’t you have a seat, Joe? There’s one right there.”

Sunny liked it better sitting down. I gave her a quick peck on her head when no one was looking. She didn’t react, just closed her eyes. I put my finger in front of her nose and couldn’t feel a thing. Finally a small puff. Then, keeping her eyes closed, Sunny stuck out her
tongue, licked me once to say she was still there.

The girl with braces smiled at Dad. “I’ll let the doctor know. Go ahead and have a seat.”

Before Dad even got to me, Dr. Gentry stuck his fat face out of the back and waved us over. “Hank, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Thank you for getting us in,” Dad said.

Everyone stared at us walking past the receptionist’s desk. They’d been waiting all morning, and now they were pissed. None of them knew Dr. Gentry and Dad shared a secret.

Dr. Gentry showed us into his office that was half the size of a real doctor’s. He sat behind his desk, his fat finger pushing up the eyeglasses that didn’t hide his beady pig eyes. Then he took Sunny to the examination room and ran tests.

I need you to keep your mind calm,
Dad thought.

“Okay.”

Dr. Gentry is like us.

My eyes must have looked like they were going to pop out of my head, because Dad told me to get a hold of myself.

“But you said we should never seek—”

“I know what I said. But we can’t afford this.”

Mom’s new car had pretty much cleaned us out.

Thirty minutes later, Dr. Gentry came back with Sunny and sat at his desk. I was standing in the doorway because even right there I could hear that creepy bastard’s thoughts.

I didn’t think I could get closer; then Dad lowered his voice and said, “Sit. Right now.”

Dr. Gentry waited until I was sitting next to Dad before he said, “
Sunny’s
not doing so good.”

You didn’t need test results to figure that out. She could barely move.

All matter of fact, Dr. Gentry said, “If she doesn’t have help, she’ll die.”

I nodded again and again and again. It was the only way for me to not cry, to not yell shut up.

Gentry twisted an old ruby ring he wore on the finger next to his shiny wedding one. “The treatment and operation she needs costs a lot.”

You owe me,
Dad thought.

Dr. Gentry kept twisting that ruby ring, never the wedding band. “Your dad’s a good man.” He looked right at Dad.
But what I owe you is far less than this.

Sunny shuddered, almost made me start crying. Dad reached over and put his hand on
Sunny’s
head. He told me
everything would be alright then kept thinking that, like maybe if he thought it enough times it would make it true.

“I’ll work here after school,” I blurted.

Dr. Gentry’s face twisted a smile. “He’s got it too?”

Dad’s thoughts told me to shut up.

Gentry snapped his fingers and pointed at his big puffy face. “Up here,” he said to me. “I want you to listen because this means you won’t be able to play football or basketball after school. You won’t be able to be on any teams.”

That was fine. Sports were no big deal. It just meant there’d be less coaches, refs, and fathers for Mom to meet.

Dad kept patting
Sunny’s
head, his wedding ring dull as ever. “Joe, you don’t have—”

“I want to.”

Dr. Gentry cleared his throat, this awful hacking. “So let’s say I’ll take care of your dog as best I can and in exchange you work every day after school, plus Saturdays.”

I said okay, but Dr. Gentry held up his pointer finger and took a drink from his cup.

Sunny’s
heartbeat was weak, one every other second. This was just wasting time.

Gentry wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “For two months.” He dragged out the next word. “And…whatever your dad has on him. To help cover costs.”

Dad swallowed hard, but Dr. Gentry didn’t see because his eyes were glued to Dad’s hands pulling out his wallet, digging out all the bills inside. The hands that would hand over everything he had.

Dad said, “Hold on a sec.” Dad held out the bills, to me not Gentry. “It’s your choice.”

It would have been nice to yell, “Put the money back. We don’t need this fat bastard and his goddamn rings.” But Dr. Gentry was needed.
Sunny’s
chest barely rose with each shallow breath. “Give it to him,” I said. “Please.”

Dad pushed the bills over. “This was for the art class you wanted. I’d been saving up for your birthday.”

It was a lot of money. Too much.

“Take it, Joe. I’ll tell your mom I lost my wallet.”

Dr. Gentry held out his hand and pretended to look sad.

I gave it to him and said, “The class is stupid anyway.”

“It’s not polite to lie,” Dr. Gentry said. He stuffed the money in his pocket and reached for Sunny with those fat fingers.

I gave Sunny one last squeeze, a kiss on her head before she went in his hands, those fingers I hoped were full of miracles.

Gentry headed for the door. “Let me get this guy taken care of and I’ll see you three o’clock Monday.”

A real doctor would know Sunny wasn’t a guy, but nothing was said on the way out, all five operating tables right
there, so hard not to look at. It was easier to stare straight ahead, follow Dad past the receptionist’s counter, through the front door. Sunny was going to be okay and that’s all that mattered.

Dad stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, looked up and down the street, Mom’s car nowhere in sight. He came back and knelt close. “I’m proud of you, dealing with this so well.”

Dad’s thoughts let out his little secret. Dr. Gentry had slept with Mom.

I nodded, but couldn’t speak. I pictured Dr. Gentry kissing Mom.

Dad’s face got hard, the way it did when he had something serious to say. “Don’t think about that.” He took my hand. “Look, sometimes the things we love will die. Sometimes they won’t. But it’s always important to fight. Life’s worth fighting for. Don’t give up.
Sunny’s
not going to. You’ve given her a chance. I’m proud of you.”

I said thanks, but still couldn’t look him in the eyes. “And for the money.”

Dad got up and brushed off his knee. “I’m sorry about the class.”

I looked in the parking lot. “Think Mom will be back?”

“Probably, but what do you say we start walking?”

I said fine, but with an attitude.

“I know you don’t like him,” Dad said. “I don’t either. But
Sunny’s
in good hands.”

Dad had a point but it didn’t make anything any better. It didn’t make it any easier to follow him, not sure how he could hold his shoulders back, head high as if there was nothing to be embarrassed about, like there wasn’t a care in the world.

* * *

Day 65, I was at work talking to a guy in New Mexico about a condo in Vail, I told him he could ski right to his front door.

“Yeah, I don’t know,” he said.

“You just have to picture it. Fresh powder. A warm fire.” I was drawing a picture of Sunny, only had the eyes, those sad eyes as we left her there with Dr. Gentry. “And you’ll never beat the price. You even qualify for—”

“I’ll call you back. I have to go.”

“Okay, well, let me just give the best number to reach—”

He’d already hung up.

I set down my pencil, stared at
Sunny’s
eyes that took up half the page. No mouth. No nose. No face. Just those eyes.

The irises were so brown I colored them black, red squiggles stretched across all the white. The eyes were terrified, the eyebrows angled up because she just wanted me to stay.

Sara said, “Can I see?”

I banged my knee on the desk, had no idea Sara was at hers. “When’d you get in?”

Sara took off her black
peacoat
and put it on the back of her chair. “Just a few minutes ago. I said hi.”

Sara had on a silver turtleneck. Sleeveless. I’d never seen her arms. The scars crisscrossing her flesh. Permanent reminders of how she used to deal with her gift.

She nodded at my notepad. “Anything good?”

I flipped to a fresh page and said, “No, just scribbles.”

Sara put on her headset and turned to her screen. “How are the calls?”

There was no point in lying, but that didn’t stop me. “Good.”

“It’ll turn around. You just have to stick with it.”

Sara and her optimism. It’s what got her here, that belief that things would get better, she’d eventually be reunited with her brother.

“I, uh, had a good time with you and Danny,” I said.

Sara was on another call. I looked down at the desk, wondering why I had to be such a creep, picturing her lips on mine.

Sara spun in her chair, mouthed, “Me too.”

It made me smile. Sara spun back, telling a woman how there were only three units left. I started to pick up the phone, but one more hang up, one more stop calling, and I was going to lose it.

Carlos’s door was closed. I picked up the pencil, not sure what I’d draw. Something I could share, not be ashamed of, like Sunny.

My hand got moving, etched the outline of Sara’s desk. She was looking at her screen, a perfect model with her hair pulled back, her gentle face no longer hidden.

I did her hair quick, a bundled brown ponytail. Her eye was six o’clock sky blue, her nose with that small bump. I shaded her lips the lightest red, even though I’d never seen her with anything on them.

Two soft lines for her chin, the side of the pencil to color the turtleneck. Her shoulders and arms were next. I hesitated, not sure what to do. Her scars were a dull pink under the fluorescent, none looking newer than a decade. I thought of leaving them off because that part of her life was behind her. But that seemed dishonest, fake, too much like a half-truth. It’d be like drawing Mom holding Dad’s hand.

I carefully nicked a few lines on Sara’s arm, made it so they were barely there. The picture wasn’t complete so I filled in some shadows, added the
tinge
of red to her cheeks. I had to make her smile a bit bigger too, like the moment she saw Danny after processing.

I took my time tearing it out of the pad, folding it in half. I felt like a first grader on Valentine’s when I got up and handed it to her. “Sorry about…sorry.” I quickly walked back to my desk.

Sara tried to keep the woman on the line, but lost her. She took the paper, opened it up, and didn’t say a word. She couldn’t pretend it wasn’t her with all the tiny scars.

Sara sounded so young when she said, “I can put on my coat if it bothers you too much.”

“Oh, God no. No. Please. I’m sorry. You look great. I was just…I didn’t…”

She leaned back in her chair, but we were still in range, no reason to lie. “Some people prefer I cover up. I don’t blame them.”

“Sara, they’re idiots. If they don’t like the way you look, they’re blind. You’re beautiful.”

She kept looking at her arms. “Oh yes, gorgeous.”

“Your scars just show you survived.” I took my time looking at her, letting her know everything I said was true. “They show you’ve been through some bad shit.” That wasn’t what I meant to say. I wanted to make her feel good, to let her know I loved that she was showing them to me.