I'm Still Here Page 10

  "Where do your parents live?"

  "They're in the southeast corner of Minnesota, Winona County. I guess they're transferring my dad to a hospital in Rochester."

  "Mayo?"

  "Yeah, I think."

  "When are you leaving?"

  "Leaving?"

  "Yeah, are you flying or driving up there? How long of a drive is it?"

  "Um, I honestly have no idea from here. I haven't been out there since I moved here. And I'm not going. I was told my presence would only upset Dean more."

  There was silence on the other end of the line. Finally, O.K. said, "I don't know what to say to that."

  "Yeah, I know. Pretty messed up. Charlie's keeping me updated, which is good of her. I feel like she's caught in the middle, which is really hard on her, but at least someone is keeping me in the loop."

  "Do you really think it's the best decision not to go?"

  The tears that I'd been holding back since I talked to Charlie started to flow. At least we were on the phone and O.K. couldn't see what an ugly crier I was. I tried to not sniffle so maybe he wouldn't even guess I was crying. Again. "No, I want to go. I want to see my dad. I want to have a family again, but ..." I faltered. How do you tell someone that your family doesn't want you? I was rejected from the tribe and asked to leave the island. There was no going back. "I'm trying to respect Dean's wishes."

  "His wishes?"

  "Yeah, the last time I saw my parents, my father told me that I was no longer part of the family." I had not admitted that to anyone. I usually told people that I didn't get along with them. I never told anyone that I had been shunned.

  "That's bullshit."

  "Excuse me?" I was taken aback by his reaction. He seemed angry.

  "That's bullshit. You don't kick people out of the family. That's why it's family. Even Jeffrey Dahmer's family still loved him. There is nothing that you could have done to warrant being expelled from your own family."

  I think at that moment, I fell in love with O.K.

  Through my tears, I smiled. I wish he could see that he was able to put a smile on my face. "Thank you for saying that. It was what I needed to hear, even if you did just compare me to a serial killer."

  He chuckled. "You know what I mean. You don't have to get into it, if you don't want, but what could you have possibly done that your family thought they were better off without you?"

  "No, this can of worms is already open. I insisted Aster was dead."

  "That's it?"

  "That's it. For three years after she 'disappeared,' my parents held out every hope. There were fliers and searches. They literally spent hundreds of thousands of dollars. Cheryl and Dean were paralyzed. They could barely go to work. Cheryl became obsessed with psychics and mediums, trying to find her. They set a place for her at every meal. They talked about her as if she was going to walk through the door at any minute. Every Christmas, there was a pile of gifts for her. It drove me mad. They would not even entertain the idea that Aster was dead."

  "Wow, that sounds rough. What did you do?"

  "Believe it or not, I tried to bite my tongue. I tried to subtly suggest that they consider the idea that Aster had committed suicide. It all fell on deaf ears. I grew bitter and resentful, and visited them less and less. I was working by this time, and had moved to St. Paul, so it seemed natural that I drifted away. But the final straw came the last time I went out to see them." I stopped for a minute and took a deep breath.

  "You don't have to go on." O.K. was being so patient, so kind.

  "Yes, I have to. I need to say this out loud. So, I make the two-plus-hour trek from St. Paul to East Podunk, where they live, for Sunday dinner. But it's not just Sunday dinner you see, it's also my birthday. I didn't think there'd be any kind of celebration, knowing it would be too hard on them because of Aster. I gave up celebrating my birthday after Aster died."

  "You stopped celebrating your birthday? Why?"

  "How do I make them celebrate me when my twin isn't here to celebrate? Plus, I didn't want to. Our birthday was always something we did together. I hate that I've had seven without her. So, anyway, I walk in, and the place is decorated all in pinks and purples, with balloons and crepe paper streamers everywhere. The entire family is there. I'm all pleased. I couldn't believe all the fuss was for me, finally coming to visit, and they were finally going to acknowledge me. Then I see it on the sideboard—the birthday cake." The words were tumbling out of my mouth. I had to get them out fast, otherwise I would choke on them. "Pink and purple had never been my favorite colors. They were Aster's colors. I'm a redhead, so I could never wear pink. I always preferred aquas and greens. But, even though Cheryl had gotten the colors wrong, I was still happy that she did this for me. So, I take a peek at the cake, all pink and purple. And on the cake, it says, "Happy Birthday Aster! We love you!"

  "Wait—it was a cake for Aster, not you?"

  "Yup. I had been invited to a birthday party for Aster."

  "Aster was your twin though? I'm ... I ... I don't understand."

  "Yeah, at that moment my patience snapped. They were having a party for Aster, hoping that if it was decorated perfect enough, got the right kind of cake, she would come home. I totally lost it. Cheryl could not see why I was upset. You wanna know what she said?"

  "I'm not sure I do, but shoot."

  "She said, 'You don't even celebrate your birthday anymore!' So, she didn't think she had to acknowledge my birthday, but needed to acknowledge Aster's."

  "That is so messed up."

  "I know. And I had stopped celebrating my birthday because it was too hard to celebrate it without Aster. How could I ask my family to celebrate me when Aster was dead? I said as much, and that sent my dad off the deep end. He started yelling, 'How dare you say such a thing?' and 'There is no proof that my precious Aster is dead!' Of course, I run my smart-ass mouth off and tell him that there is more proof that she is dead than alive and that they needed to accept that. I mean, she left a freakin' suicide note, for Christ's sake. He said he will never accept it. I told him that he needed to, or I couldn't be around them anymore."

  "I don't think I even want to know what he said."

  "He said that he would never give up on Aster. And that since I had given up on her, I had given up on the family, and that I was no longer a part of the family. And that was it. That was the last time I saw or talked to my parents."

  "I don't even know what to say."

  "I bet you're sorry you took my call. You'd better start screening."

  "Oh, I'm sorry all right. I'm sorry that your family is a bunch of asses. I'm sorry that you've had to go through all of this. I'm sorry that you're hurt and alone. But I will never be sorry that I took your call or that I met you."

  Yup, that did it. I was in love.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Dean was going to need a quadruple bypass. I guess the years of smoking weed cancelled out the years of vegan eating after all. He was doing all right, anxious for the surgery. My parents had never been big believers of Western medicine, and I bet it was getting Cheryl's gall that she couldn't fix this with acupuncture, incense and essential oils. Charlie was keeping me updated, but was also keeping it from the rest of the family that she was in touch with me. They would not be pleased to know that I knew.

  That was the irony of the family. I talked to Charlie the most, probably about once or twice a month. I talked to Veruca several times a year. I did not talk to Violet, as she was aligned with my parents on the Aster issue. Gus and Mike were men, so they weren't really big on the phone anyway. I got occasional e-mails or texts from them. But all of them kept it secret from each other and from my parents that they spoke to me. I was the black sheep. The pariah. The red-headed, well, you know.

  I wanted to tell Charlie to tell Dean that I was asking for him. I could not send my love, because I was not sure that I loved my parents any longer. Love should be reserved for people who respect you and care about you. My parents offered me neither ca
ring nor respect. Jillian, whom I'd only known for six months, offered me more caring and respect than my parents did. Plus, I didn't want to put Charlie in the middle, so I said nothing. I didn't want her subject to the ostracizing that I had faced. And despite all my parents had put me through, I really wanted to be there. I wanted to be able to hold my mom's hand while she waited and to hug my dad one last time. I wanted to be a part of my family again. Maybe I was crazy.

  Damn Aster. This was all her fault. She may have thought through her suicide, but maybe she didn't. What she certainly did not consider is how it would impact the rest of us. She single handedly tore our family apart. She took away my best friend and other half and then took my family with it. I was seething and stewing in my own anger when my thoughts were interrupted by my cell phone. It was a good thing. I needed the distraction before I broke something or hurt myself trying (because let's face it, that was probably what would happen). Plus, I was sitting in my new piece-of-shit car (because, even with the insurance payment, I couldn't afford anything better), and I didn't want to break it already. As it was, the passenger's side rearview mirror was held on with duct tape. Luckily, the Ford Escort was black, and the previous owner had used black duck tape, so it was not that obvious.

  "I think you need to go," said O.K. excitedly. "You need to go to your family."

  "I want to, but I can't. They don't want me there. I would only cause more problems."

  "You don't know that. What if they're being as stubborn as you are? What if your dad wants to see you to make amends, but is saying he can't because you wouldn't come even if he asked?"

  "I never thought of that."

  "I thought maybe that was the case. You can thank me later. I came up with a plan that will knock your socks off. And then I have an even better idea for a way you can thank me."

  "Okay, O.K. Lay it on me. Well, the first plan, I mean. Not that I don't want to talk about the other thing ... shit, I'm a moron. What's your plan?"

  He laughed at my stuttering and stumbling. I really did love his laugh. His voice was soothing to me and I felt good talking to him. "Would you drive up there? How long of a trip is it?"

  "I would have to drive. I can't afford a plane ticket and a rental car. I honestly have no idea how long it would take. Hang on ... let me put it the GPS." I pulled my GPS out of my work bag, plugged it into the car and put in the addresses. "It says here a little over ten hours."

  "Perfect. When is the surgery?"

  "Tomorrow morning. I guess he's stable and being monitored, but they still want to get this taken care of as soon as possible."

  "Naturally. Do you trust me?"

  "I did until you asked me if I trusted you. Usually when people as you that, it's because they're going to do something that is not deserving of trust."

  "Good point. I need you to take a leap of faith and trust me on this."

  I don't know why, but O.K. had this ability to soothe and put me at ease, even in the most difficult of situations. His words were like an elixir for my soul, and I did trust him. And that was difficult for me to do and even harder for me to admit.

  "What do you want me to do?"

  "You need to drive up there. He'll be in surgery for a good four to six hours, at minimum. Pack your bags, make arrangements to take time off and whatever else you need to take care of, and then go right to bed. Set your alarm for two a.m. If you get some sleep now, and get on the road then, you should be there about the time he's getting out of surgery."

  The plan sounded valid. I had run scenarios through my head before and had come up with something similar. I hadn't thought about driving in the middle of the night, but O.K.'s plan made sense. I wasn't sure if I should admit that to O.K. or not. I was taking a leap of faith in trusting him, so I could take the leap in admitting that he had come up with a good plan.

  "Okay."

  "What?"

  I sighed. How many more times would I do that? "No, okay as in I'll do your plan. It sounds like a good idea." I looked at my watch. It was four in the afternoon. I could be home and in bed by six. I would take a melatonin to help me go to sleep. I hadn't been sleeping well, so being tired was not a problem. My ass was dragging already. Going to bed in two hours sounded wonderful.

  "O.K., thanks for caring. I really needed a friend, and you've been that. You've been more than a friend. I can't thank you enough. I'll call you from the road and let you know I got there."

  Even though the plan called for early sleep, I did not think it would come so easily. Perhaps it was the fact that I had some kind of plan, some kind of direction. Perhaps it was because I hadn't slept well in weeks. Perhaps it was the melatonin. Whatever the reason, sleep came fast and deep. In fact, it was a little too deep, and I was still fast asleep when there was a pounding on my door.

  Still groggy, I opened my eyes and tried to figure out what that banging was. My alarm was playing music, but it had failed to awaken me. I stumbled out of bed, nearly falling because I was tangled up in the sheets. I looked at my clock as I hastily tried to silence the music. It read two-ten a.m.; I had overslept by twenty-five minutes. Thank goodness that banging woke me up.

  Wait, why was someone banging on my door at two in the morning? This could not be good. The only people who banged on doors in the middle of the night like this were the police, and only when they had bad news for you. I moved even faster trying to get to the door, this time stubbing my toe on the wooden threshold in my bedroom doorway. I hopped the rest of the way to the door, yelling, "Coming!" so whoever it was would stop the banging. I unlatched the deadbolt and was surprised to see O.K. standing on the other side of my door when I opened it up.

  "You were supposed to be up by now."

  "I may or may not have slept through my alarm. What are you doing here?" I asked, rubbing my eyes and then letting out a large yawn. You know, the fly-catching kind that is oh-so attractive.

  "I came to make sure you got up and got on the road."

  "That's very sweet of you. Come on in while I get myself together." He stepped inside and looked at me with a Cheshire Cat grin.

  "What?" I said with a frown. I thought he might be laughing at me, and especially at two in the morning, I had little sense of humor about such things.

  "You may or may not have a minor case of bed head—" my hands immediately flew to my mop, trying to tame it "—and a pillow crease down the side of your face."

  Please shoot me now.

  I hustled to the bathroom to take care of my needs, as well as brush my teeth. I pulled my hair back into a low ponytail and splashed some water on my face. I had packed all my make-up already. I figured I didn't need to look pretty for my solo drive.

  I found O.K. in my kitchen with two large travel mugs of coffee poured. "I know you usually drink tea, but this is your Keurig, so I figured you must drink coffee sometime. How do you take it?"

  "Black."

  That answer gave him pause. "Nice."

  "When your parents make you be vegan for a while, you develop a taste for things without dairy. Guess that was one of the few things that kind of stuck with me."

  "Are you still vegan?"

  "Good God, no. Frankly, we all cheated behind our parents' backs every chance we got. We all hated it. I think we did that from the time I was about eight until sixteen maybe?"

  "You were drinking coffee then?"

  "If it was organic and fair trade. My parents didn't let a little thing like caffeine stunting a child's growth deter them from what diet they thought was best. From what I hear, they are now on a paleo diet."

  "Isn't that pretty much the antithesis of a vegan diet?"

  "Cheryl and Dean are very consistent about their inconsistence. I still feel guilty when I eat meat though. But I crave it something fierce. Didn't Rob tell you about our date?"

  "No, not really, other than the singing part. I really didn't want to hear anything." Did I detect a hint of jealousy in his voice?

  "So, he left out how I pretty much mad
e love to my bacon cheeseburger at the table then?"

  "Yeah, somehow he omitted those details. I'd love to hear a play-by-play. Or better yet, see it." He winked at me. It made my stomach flutter.

  "Well, that will have to wait until I get back. I need to get on the road." I had to focus.

  I picked up my bags, which were right by the door. I had thrown in the last-minute stuff—the chargers, my books, my iPod—while O.K. and I were talking, and I needed to head out.

  "Yeah, that's the thing. Thinking about it, I don't think you should be driving ten hours in the middle of the night alone. And I'm not sure your car would make it anyway."

  "What are you talking about? This was your idea in the first place! You got me all psyched to go. I can't not go now." I huffed out of my door and waited for O.K. to leave so I could lock the door behind me. I continued to huff down the stairs and to my car. When I got to my car, I noticed a duffle bag on the ground behind my car.

  "What's this?"

  "Oh, that's mine," said O.K. "I can't let you drive all by yourself, so I'm coming with you."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  O.K.'s mind was set, and there was no dissuading him. Frankly, although part of me was a little perturbed that he sprang this on me, there was a larger part of me that was going, "Squeee!" with joy that he wanted to do this for and with me. I was incredulous that he would dump everything to drive me up. Why would he do this for me? I would have to ask him. I was still trying to wake up. Those deeper thoughts would have to be processed a bit more at a later time. Since O.K. seemed totally wide awake, and I was still waiting for the coffee to kick in, I let him take the first shift with driving. He had insisted on taking his car after all.

  The hours passed and we made good time. Except for the large tractor trailers, there wasn't a whole lot of traffic for the first several hours of our trip. We stopped when we needed to, but otherwise it was the open road and us. Congestion picked up as we moved through central Illinois approaching Chicago around the morning rush hour, but we stayed on the outer belt and didn't lose too much time.