Swimming Through Clouds (A YA Contemporary Novel) (10 page)

So much for starting my day with anticipation. Just like
that, the candle is blown out by the frigid breeze of my reality. I promise to
back away. To detach my heart strings, one at a time. I need to get used to the
fact that forever is for other girls. The ones whose fathers teach them how to
dance as they get ready for prom. The only prom I’ll ever attend will occur in
my room. By myself, wearing the single pretty black dress I own from Mom’s
funeral. I’ll dance with my shadow. Even Jess can’t dance with me.

Thinking of Jesse, I recall seeing him lift his legs in the
morning.
That’s it.
I’ll focus on my brother. Today is the perfect day to start. I’ll rush home,
finish my chores quickly, then spend the rest of the evening until Dad returns,
helping Jess with his physical therapy. Thankful for my baby brother, I vow to
do whatever it takes to get Jess back on his feet.

Keeping my eyes on my feet as I move to my next class, I
note that Lagan no longer follows me. Good. Maybe he’s used to my
roller-coaster temperament. Or maybe he’s decided to finally leave me alone. I
drift from class to class, creating a new schedule in my head to work with
Jess. Each time Lagan slips me a Sticky Note, I throw it into the trash without
reading it. I know this hurts him, but I have to cut this off. I’m used to
bleeding. He’ll get over me. Brad did. And so will he.

As I take my lunch to the girl’s locker room, I plop down on
the bench and wonder which one of Lagan’s many friends will keep him company
today. My appetite disappears with my reflection as I close my eyes to the
yellow bathroom tile that surrounds me. I hate who I’ve become. Now Lagan will
have to pick the sad face if I say my name. I’d pick the sad face, too. For
everything.

I think about the picture Lagan drew. Why does it make me so
angry? What is it about the clouds that make me cave into despair? Maybe
because the clouds sit so close to me, I sense Lagan suggesting that it’s all
my fault. I’m the reason that we can’t get close. Closer. The clouds are my
problems. My roadblocks. My
no
’s.
I have listed more than enough for the both of us. Meanwhile, Lagan swims free,
basking in the sun.

Indecisive
should be my middle name. I flip-flop
back and forth until I’m reminded of the bleeding woman in Lagan’s book. At
some point, she had to come out of hiding. She had to remove the mask of
I’m
fine
. Terrified to admit to
too much, I debate asking Lagan about the clouds. Up to now, I have never
shared any concrete details regarding Dad. I don’t want sympathy. That never
solves anything. And changes nothing.

How can I forget the first time that Lagan took a risk and
tried asking? About my lips? Something inside of me wants to tell him. A
little. Just so he might understand that I don’t choose these clouds that hold
me captive. To know that if I could remove the clouds, I would. I really would.
But how? How can I tell him without saying it? Without writing it down? Without
leaving evidence?

My whole life I have imagined this moment when I would tell
someone the truth. The truth of the madness that I live every day. I imagine
what it will be like to invite someone into my world. Even just for a moment.
To not be alone. And then it hits me. Dad’s in Vegas today. Who knows what time
his red eye lands? Should I? Do I dare?

No one besides Dad’s high-rolling clients have ever stepped
into our home, and even then, those visits are rare and late at night, usually
after we’ve turned in for bed. Like a pendulum, I swing from the extreme of
ending the friendship to inviting Lagan to see for himself. Maybe this will be
the deciding factor. If he sees with his own eyes what I come home to each day,
he might realize that I am too much for him. I decide not to decide for him.

What if Dad shows up? My mind has played this game a million
times. Falling off the tightrope into the unknown. Crossing wobbly bridges,
knowing too well that alligators snip at my heels. What difference does it
make? I’m drowning anyway. May as well go down with a little fight. No regrets.
Something like that. When I recall Jess lifting his legs, an unfamiliar desire
to dance stirs inside me.

I quickly throw the rest of my lunch away, realizing that I
only have five minutes before the lunch bell will sound. Phrasing and
rephrasing the question in my head, I race against the clock as blood pulses in
my ears, and my heart pounds two feet in front of me. I close my eyes to get a
grip and run right into Lagan’s chest.

“Looking for someone?” Lagan asks, half-smiling.

“Face-to-face. Was this your idea or mine?” I’m so glad he’s
here.

“You hated my picture.” Lagan cuts to the chase.

“No.” I start to lie. “It’s just that the clouds. Why so
many? And around just me?” Bodies bump us left and right as students head to
lockers for afternoon books.

“The clouds.” Lagan inhales. “The clouds were really hard
for me to draw.”

“What do you mean?” I ask as we move down the hallway,
toward my locker, elbows touching, more and more kids filing in.

“The clouds are your hurts. Even though the ocean is full of
water, you can’t hide your sadness from me. I see you’re sad. I just don’t know
why. I want to reach you, but your sadness keeps me away. Without knowing where
the clouds are coming from, I have no way of knowing how to move past them.
Like it’s always cloudy in your world. Your eyes. No matter how often I steal a
smile from your lips, it’s still raining in your eyes.” Lagan pauses, then he
finishes. “I’m sorry.”

How many times has Lagan apologized to me since I met him?
It’s not his fault. None of this.
My life is not your fault.
I take a deep breath and say two words
that I have never said to another soul: “Come over.”

“Today?” Lagan’s eyebrows furrow toward each other with
understandable skepticism.

“Yes. After school. For an hour.” I know this chance might
never come again.

“Are you sure?” He puts his hand on my arm as he looks into
my eyes.

When I nod yes, he pulls closer and whispers into my ear,
“Should I wear a tie?”

“Only if you’re worried about impressing my brother.” I
giggle, and we part for our afternoon classes. I smile through the rest of my
day, and when the last bell rings, my smile turns to pressed lips, attempting
to keep out an intruder. Doubt. It’s time.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

I find
a Post-it on my locker when I return to get my textbooks.

Meet U outside
by the gym doors. If U change
yur
mind, no biggie.
Still want 2 have lunch with U tom.

L

Just like Lagan, always giving me an out. I pack my books
quickly, clip my lock, and head out the back doors. Walking around to the side
of the school, I spot Lagan’s tall, lanky figure leaning against the school’s
renovated brick. Shades and black winter cap pulled over his ears, his head
bops to some tune on his iPod as he dribbles his basketball. He catches me
looking toward him, and picks up his dribble, pulls one ear bud out, and
saunters in my direction. Smiling, perhaps relieved that I didn’t bail.

During the trek home, I can hear the basketball hit the
pavement behind me, a sound that simultaneously gives me anxiety and joy.
Picking up my pace when we reach past two blocks away from school property, I
focus my mind on Jesse to keep my mind from dwelling on the possibilities of
Dad’s rage. Not sure how Jess will feel about me bringing Lagan home.

The image of an army of white blood cells rushing to guard
the entryway into our cancer cell floods my mind. Which makes Lagan a rookie
covert-ops agent, entering a realm of terror beyond his skills of training. No
one has prepped him. He has no map. Land mines lay all around, and my feet
continue to step forward—back into my world.

Not even twenty-four hours have passed since I told my
brother about Lagan. I hope Jess is still in a good mood. And if Jess says no,
I’ll just send Lagan away.
Keep it simple
is my mantra for this
anything-but-simple experiment.

When we reach a block from my house, I turn to look back.
Lagan’s still dribbling, approximately three sidewalk squares behind me. He
smiles, raising his eyebrows above his shades. That dimple always manages to
surge my pulsing heart.

I turn to face forward. Take a deep breath. Then another. I
have to say something as a head’s up. A little background info, just so Lagan
won’t totally be caught off guard.

After inhaling once more, I start to explain. “My brother...”

“Yes.” Lagan lets me know from behind that he can hear me.

“My brother.” I start over. “He doesn’t talk.”

“Okay.” Lagan waits.

“Or walk.”

Lagan picks up his dribble. “Oh.”

Another deep breath.

“Or much of anything. He needs a lot of help.” I finish, the
house now in sight. “I need to spend a few minutes helping him when we first
get there.”

“Okay,” Lagan says and resumes dribbling. “Should I wait
outside? I could wait outside.”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea. I’ll come out to get you in a
few.”

We’re home. I look down the stone path to my front door. I
scan the driveway like a car could magically appear that isn’t there. Then my
eyes roam the street and all around. No site of Dad.

I look directly at Lagan and quickly instruct, “You can wait
in the backyard. There’s a bench. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, I run to the front entrance, unlock it, and shut
the door behind me.

“Jess! Jess, I’m home.” Grabbing the list, I race up to
Jess’s room to tell him the news.

Except that Jess is not in his room. What? My heart sinks.
Where is he?

“Jess! Jess!” I scream.
Where are you?

Our house is not that big. I run through the other bedrooms,
back down to the kitchen. Nope. I run to the living room. Not there either.
From bathroom to bathroom and still no luck. Then I see the door on Dad’s
office partially ajar, and I slow my pace. We’re not allowed in Dad’s office.
It’s up there with the roof rule.

“Jessie!” I find my brother laying down on his chest, to the
side of Dad’s computer desk.

“Jess?” I kneel to look into his eyes. “Jess? What are you
doing? How did you get here?”

Jess’s eyes shift back and forth to his elbows. They are
scraped up, dried blood speckles a few of the sea green tiles. He dragged
himself? But then my eyes see it. The bottom drawer is pulled out and something
silver glitters in the light. A gun.
What the?
A real gun!

“Jesse!” Heat surges into my ears. “What were you thinking?”

I slam the drawer shut and start shaking Jesse’s shoulders.

I keep screaming. “Jesse, I don’t care what you were
thinking, okay. Promise me!”

I need to lower my voice and calm down. I hate being
screamed at. I hate the sound of my voice screaming more.

I repeat more calmly, looking Jesse right in his eyes.
“Promise me that you’ll never leave me.”

Jesse looks away.

I cup his face and turn it back toward mine.

“Promise me.” I am not taking no for an answer. “Promise me
now. I cannot do this alone. I need you.”

Jesse exhales and says one word: “Okay.” Then he looks away
again. I feel bad for yelling at him. Sheesh. I totally forget that Lagan is
waiting out back. I need to clean up this mess first. Story of my life.

“Let’s get you in your chair.” I force a smile. “I’ll be
right back.”

I walk back to Jess’s room, and as I gather some wet
washcloths to clean up the blood, I imagine my life without my brother. The
thought sends shivers down my neck. Flashbacks from the roof reel in my mind,
as I realize that Jesse is not safe left alone. Today the gun. Tomorrow a
knife. Again and again, I am reminded that I have no control of the future. But
I have to try. I will not give up without a fight.

I wheel his chair back to the den, and after cleaning up
Jess, wiping down the floor, and restoring Dad’s office, we move to the
kitchen. I really hope that Dad sticks to his note and returns home late. It’s
time to tell Jesse.

“Jesse, I’m going to forget about what happened today,” I
lie.
I will never forget this
, I think to myself, as I gather some fruit out of the
fridge to make a salad. “I have something to tell you.”

Jesse looks up at me now, his mouth curving at the edges to
make a small smile.

“Well, not exactly a something. More like a someone. There’s
someone I want you to meet.” I watch closely for any sign of resistance.

Jess shrugs his shoulders, so I continue talking. “He’s out
back. His name is Lagan. Yes. The same Lagan I told you about last night.”

Jess nods. This could not be a worse moment to introduce a
stranger into our house. Moments after discovering my brother’s second suicide
attempt, I change the topic. Forcing us both to move on, move past, and move
into another person’s world.