These Gentle Wounds (7 page)

Ten

It isn't until I get to the house that I realize I'll have a mountain to climb when trying to convince Jim to let me go camping. Actually, when trying to convince Kevin, because if I don't get through him, I won't even get to Jim.

And Kevin's reaction, not surprisingly, is to laugh at me.

Sometimes, regardless of how great they can be, brothers suck.

“Camping? Like setting up a tent? And pissing in the woods? And building a fire? That sort of camping?” He isn't bothering to hide his amusement.

“Give me a break,” I mutter under my breath.

“Camping, like with bugs? And scary red food like hot dogs? And people you have to talk to?”

“Fine. Forget I mentioned it.” I throw myself into my desk chair, which somehow ended up on his side of the room, and roll it back to mine. I grab a history book and do my best to ignore him, which turns out to be impossible because Kevin is cracking himself up.

He follows, sitting down on the edge of my bed and
struggling to stop laughing. “Okay, seriously, let's talk about this.”

“No, let's not.” I've already given up. It was stupid of me to think it was a good idea to begin with.

“Hey, Ice, I'm not necessarily saying you shouldn't go,” he says while I lose myself in the politics of the Civil War. “I'm just surprised.”

South Carolina is trying to secede when the book is pulled out of my hands.

“It was a stupid idea. Drop it.” I'm pissed off and resigned to not going. The last thing I want is to talk about it. But I should know better. Kevin never ever gives up and never lets anything go.

“Look at me,” he says, spinning my chair around and around. My eyes are clamped shut and I don't open them, so he spins harder. I give in only to keep from feeling like I'm going to throw up.

“If you really want to go, then you should. There's just one thing … ”

There's always one thing with him, and I don't want to get my hopes up until I find out what hurdle he's going to say I need to jump. Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish Jim was really my dad so that Kevin could act like a normal brother and ignore me.

He leans over and grips the arm of my chair and stares into my eyes. “If you can hold it together on Thursday with your father, I'll talk to Jim,” he says. Then he pushes me back so that my chair goes sailing across the room.

I close my eyes again and wait to see if I'm going to crash against the wall. The floor is slightly sloped and all of our furniture is at the edges of the big room, so there's a lot of space to fly through.

“So, what do you think?” Kevin calls as I hit his bed with my outstretched feet.

I can't tie what's going to happen on Thursday to anything to do with Sarah. I know if I do, they're going to be knotted that way in my head forever and I won't be able to be her friend without thinking of him and The Night Before, and I can't do that.

So I shrug. And get up and grab my book from him.

“Thursday is going to happen whether you want it to or not,” Kevin says. “Wouldn't it be better to have something to look forward to on the other side?”

This is how Kevin's mind works. There is now. And there is later. And then there is later still. One comes after the other after the other. He should hate my father more than anyone, but it's all divided up for him.

I never take anything for granted. Who knows what will happen on Thursday?

So I don't answer him. I go back to reading until he comes and rotates my chair around and around again and somewhere in the room I hear the air say, “You're a pain in the ass. You know that, right? Fine. No promises. But I'll see what I can do.”

I don't know if Kevin talks to Jim, because every time he brings it up, I walk out of the room.

Sarah brings the photos to school and the four of us work on this cool
Moby Dick
storyboard that we'll present at the end of the week.

I keep waiting for Luke to say something to me about staying away from his sister. It seems so strange that I have all of this stuff going on with my father and Sarah, yet nothing else really seems like it's changed. Until Coach waves me over to the side of the rink on Wednesday.

I use the last of my practice energy to skate over to the boards.

He compliments me on a pretty awesome glove-save I made and then gets to his real point. “I heard you'll have to miss practice tomorrow. You know I'd love to break my own rule and let you play on Friday, but if I do that for you … ”

“Yeah,” I mumble. “I know. I get it.”

Coach nods his head and pats me on the shoulder. “That's okay. There are plenty more games in your future, and this way we can give Walker a good send-off.”

I've been doing a good job of pretending Thursday isn't going to come. But now that Coach knows about it, it seems real.

I move out of the way to let Walker onto the ice. I'm about to ask Coach if I can skip the game instead of sitting on the bench when I hear a string of swear words and a bunch of the guys cracking up.

I turn around. Walker is spilled on the ice, trying to pull clear tape off his blades. “I'm going to kill you, Bowman, you freaking … ”

Cody is in the stands, dressed in his street clothes because of his suspension. He's wearing the same fake-innocent expression I've seen on him before. “Wasn't me, loser. I'm up here, remember?”

Coach sighs. Someone always plays a prank on senior players at the end of the season. Only Cody is stupid enough to do something that could get his own goalie hurt.

“Both of you, over here. Now,” Coach yells. I take the opportunity to slip into the locker room.

I hit the showers and try to wash all thoughts of Thursday out of my head, but no matter how far I turn the knob, the water isn't hot enough to do the job. By the time I give up and towel off, I'm as red as my jersey.

I can't believe this was my last practice of the season. I can't believe I'm missing hockey to see my fucking father.

I throw my clothes on and sit down to tie my shoes, but my hand is shaking and I keep dropping the lace. I'm sure I look like a total idiot who can't even handle something as stupid as shoelaces when Luke shows up at my locker.

Here we go. Get the freak away from your sister.

“Nice play out there.” He shakes his wet hair into a towel. “I almost wish I was going to be here next year. You guys are going to be awesome.”

“Thanks.” I give up and shove the laces down the sides of my shoes. Even that's hard because I'm so freaked out by the thought of losing it in front of him.

Luke stands there looking like somebody who just stepped out of a magazine. All dark hair and pressed shirt.

“Look, Gordie,” he says seriously. “I wanted to talk to you about this weekend.”

Crap.
I exhale breath and hope.
Of course.

“I know Sarah didn't give you much notice. And you're probably busy, but it would be great if you could come with us.” He shoves his practice stuff into his bag and sprays himself with expensive-smelling cologne.

“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself, then cover my mouth before I can say anything else embarrassing.

Thankfully, he laughs. “I think Sarah could use a friend here.”

I want to ask him “Why?” again. I mean, Sarah is smart and talented, and so, so, so pretty. I'm sure she has a million friends. But before I can say anything, the door bursts open and Jessie comes in without knocking. I say a silent word of gratitude that she didn't come in while I was still half-naked.

Standing here in front of them makes me wonder if it really would be possible for me to go camping with them. I don't belong with them and their easy, normal lives.

“Gordie, right?” she asks. Her honey-blond hair drapes around Luke like a scarf.

I nod. “Hey,” I think I say back, but I know I'm turning red just watching them, with their skin touching in so many places they might as well be melding into the same person. Her cheek fits perfectly into the crook of his neck and his hand is running absent-mindedly up and down her arm, which is wrapped around his chest.

I run my thumb over the strap of my equipment bag and try to concentrate on breathing.

I'm still watching them, but trying not to, when I hear a sound behind me. I turn to see Sarah's camera firing rapid photos of the three of us. I duck down to try to escape but she follows, leaning over and snapping photos inches away from my face until I tumble away, out of her reach.

Luke and Jessie seem oblivious to anything other than each other, so I get up and go over to where Sarah is leaning against one of the training tables, looking into her camera at the pictures she's taken.

I still want to leave, but I want to be close to her more. I crane my head over her shoulder. “Can I see?”

As she hugs the camera to her chest, a devilish smile spreads across her face. It gives her dimples that make me smile too. “Well … how about this. Come camping with us, and I'll show you then.”

I like her teasing. Aside from Kevin, everyone is always totally serious around me, as if laughing is going make me break into a hundred pieces.

Before I can say anything, Luke untangles himself from Jessie. “Come on, squirt, I need to drop you home. Jess and I have homework to do.”

“Yeah, I'll bet.” Sarah smirks at him and then winks at me. “But I need you to run me by the library first.”

“Sarah … ” Luke folds his arms like he's going to put up a fight. “Gordie, you need a ride?” he asks in my direction.

I shake my head “no” before I realize what a mistake that is. I watch as they all walk out, hearing their light-hearted fighting as they head out of the rink.

I'm filled with envy. I'm not sure if my conversations with Kevin are ever that simple.

I think about this as I walk home alone. And I'm still thinking about it when I get into the house and am assaulted by the nauseating smells of popcorn, cigarettes, and beer.

Kevin is laughing with his friends. It's obvious that Jim is out again and Kevin has claimed the den for a night of DVDs.

I make it upstairs without throwing up, talking to anyone, or, I hope, anyone seeing me. Something about being with Sarah and Luke, or Sarah really, has made me want to be by myself. Or with her.

But my plan is to not think about anything real. I figure if I plow through my math and history homework tonight, I'll have all of it done for class through Monday, even though it's only Wednesday night. I don't know what shape I'm going to be in tomorrow night, or what's going to happen after that, and it helps to be prepared.

I tackle geometry first.
Find X: m

The bedroom door opens but I try to ignore it. Downstairs a plane drops bombs on an unsuspecting village. The sound of people screaming matches the ache in my stomach.

Kevin hangs over my shoulder; I fight to stay lost in numbers.

“Come downstairs,” he says. “It's just Mark and Bryce.”

“Ice. Come on, take a break.”

“Can't,” I say. Xs flip over and over in my head.

Kevin spins my chair around to face him. I have to shake the numbers out of my brain.

“What's your GPA?” he asks.

“3.854,” I answer without thinking.

“Really?” He's so shocked he actually takes a step back. Even my brother forgets that I'm smart. I nod.

“You're a freak. You know that, right?” But he's smiling. “I think you've earned time off for a movie.”

“I can't. I have to get this all done tonight.” I'm actually itching to get back to it. My thumb starts moving and my head is already halfway back into my homework.

“When's your … ” He picks up my book and looks at the spine. “Geometry due?”

“Monday,” I admit.

“So why do you need to do it all tonight?”

“Leave me alone,” I yell, then cover my mouth with my hands. I never yell. I never yell at him. “Sorry,” I say, making sure my voice is quiet. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head and the smile disappears. I almost wish he'd scream back at me or something. It would be easier than this disappointed look.

“Fine. Have it your way,” he says, but he just stands there like that's the last thing he wants. “You know, whatever he's done, you let him win when you do this,” he says softly.

I think about that for a minute.

I turn back to my math. “He's already won.”

Eleven

I have a plan. It may not be a good plan. It may be the stupidest plan ever. It might not even work. But at least it's mine.

My plan is that I'm going to sit there. I'm going to sit there, and stay quiet, and play a movie in my mind, and go somewhere else and let the vulture rant and rave on his own. My plan is that I'll be there, but I won't. My body might be in the room. I might be twitching like I've stuck my finger in an electric socket. But I won't be there. Not really.

I practice it all day. I'm in class, but I'm not. A few teachers look at me with that worried look I've seen too many times before, but I make sure I'm out of the room as soon as the bell rings.

I practice it in the car, when Kevin drives me to Ms. DeSilva's office. But that's a lot harder.

“You're in there, right?” he asks as I sit, statue still, in the passenger's seat.

“Yeah.” I struggle to get the word out.

When we come to a stop sign, he takes a hand off the wheel and puts it on my arm and squeezes. I expect him to say, “It's okay,” like he always does. But he doesn't, and I'm glad. There's no way I could take his word for it this time.

When the car starts moving again, he doesn't remove his hand, but I'm doing such a good job at being somewhere else that I don't fully feel its weight anymore.

Then we're in the building. I look around, amazed that nothing has changed in the last five years. The carpet is the same paisley pattern that looks like a rainbow vomited all over it. The closer we get to her office, the harder it is to believe any time has passed at all.

Kevin guides me through the halls with a hand on my shoulder until we get to Ms. DeSilva's office. Then he takes a deep breath and pushes me like a battering ram through the door.

I don't remember a ton about Amy DeSilva except that she was nice to me, she didn't say mean things about my mom, and she never told me things would be okay just to have something to say.

She looks exactly like she did five years ago. She still has that middle-aged-woman hairstyle you have to go to a salon to get—all puffy and curled. Only Kevin and I look different.

“Look at you,” she says, holding my arms out. Kevin smirks, but I wish I could see what she's seeing. I can't imagine anything about me that would make her so happy.

I try to smile back, but I just end up biting on my lip as she leans over and gives Kevin a hug and gestures for us to sit down.

“So, I know this isn't how you boys want to spend this afternoon, but we all have to follow the law. The court has granted your father's petition for this supervised meeting, and I wanted to go over what will happen and make sure you don't have any questions.”

A hundred million questions all rush to the front of my head, each of them yelling “Pick me! Pick me!” I'm determined not to let a single word escape my lips. If I start talking, I won't be able to stop. And if that happens, I'm afraid I'm going to start talking about what happened on The Night Before and there's no way I'm letting that happen.

I start snapping my bracelet and don't quit until Kevin leans over and knocks me on the leg. Then I sit on my hand, but I can still feel the muscles jerking.

Ms. DeSilva leans over her desk and clasps her hands together. Her nails are a deep shiny red that match the carpet. “Gordie, your father is going to be here in about fifteen minutes. I'm going to have my assistant take him straight into the conference room and let me know when he's there. Then I'll take you in. I'm afraid that Kevin is going to have to wait outside, but I'll be in there with you and I'll stay there for the whole visit. Okay?”

She looks at me, waiting for me to tell her it's okay, but nothing about this is okay. I manage a nod, but it's a struggle. I don't want to go in there looking like I really give a damn.

She obviously notices because she offers me something to drink. I can't imagine being able to hold anything down, so I shake my head again.

“I know you haven't seen your father in a long time, so this meeting will be short and we'll keep things casual, okay? We'll just see how it goes.”

Then she looks at Kevin. “Are there any questions I can answer, or do the two of you need a few minutes?”

I have no intention of opening my mouth. Of course, Kevin can't keep quiet. “Thanks. I think some time might be good, Ms. DeSilva,” he says.

She gets up and gathers her papers. “You know, I think it would be all right if you called me Amy. You aren't little boys anymore.”

Kevin nods. Aside from Jim, I've never called adults by their first names. Even with Jim, it's easier not to call him anything at all.

The door lock clicks as she closes it.

Kevin turns his chair to face mine. “You can do this, Gordie. It's just twenty minutes.”

I nod, even though “twenty minutes” with my father sounds like a lifetime.

“Give me your watch.” He holds his hand out and I undo the strap and hand it to him. He fiddles around with it and gives it back. I don't look at it when I put it back on.

“Are you going to talk to him at all?” Kevin asks. He sounds calm, but he's running his hand through his hair like it's an animal he's trying to tame.

I try really hard to wrap my lips around one word, to say “No,” but my plan has taken over my brain. I shake my head.

He closes his eyes and swears under his breath.

“You realize that all you're going to do is to piss him off, right?”

I shrug. I don't care.

“I don't suppose you want to let me know what the hell you're thinking?”

I don't shake my head this time. He knows better.

“Ice … ” he starts, but leaves the rest of the question in the air and sighs. “Just sit tight for a couple of minutes.”

I close my eyes to the sound of the door shutting. I let myself go, but it isn't really a spin. It isn't some memory from when I was a kid. Instead, I'm on top of the train with Sarah. I can feel the soft snow landing on my hand. I can feel the weight of her arms on my shoulders as she showed me how to use her camera.

It's nice. It's strange. It probably means I'm crazy, but right now, I don't care. I focus on how she smells like the lilacs we used to have in the backyard of our old house.

There's music in the way she says my name. I feel like I could fly on the sound her words make. My breathing slows and my hand relaxes.

Then the door opens and it isn't Kevin. Ms. DeSilva pulls one of the chairs over to the couch where I'm sitting.

“Your brother says you're scared to see your father.”

My hand clenches again and I knock it into the arm of the couch. My brother has a big mouth.

“He's worried about you. I know it's been a long time since you've seen your dad. The last time was at the funeral, right?”

I nod.

“Can you tell me if there are any other concerns you have?”

Other concerns? My mind races with them, each worse than the one before. I imagine telling her everything about what my father used to do to Kevin and about The Night Before. I imagine how pissed my brother would be at me for blabbing his secrets, and what he'd think of me once he finds out what a coward I am.

I jam my hand under my leg and shake my head. I know she gets that there's stuff I'm keeping to myself. But she's a lawyer or something, not a shrink. I don't think I have to talk to her even though she's nice and if I was going to talk to someone, I know she wouldn't be a bad choice.

“Gordie, is there anything I can do to help you?”

I can tell she means it, and for a minute I feel bad for not confessing my secrets to her. I force myself to swallow and to say softly, “No. Thank you.”

Her face falls, but she nods at me anyhow. “Okay. But you know that you can talk to me if you need to.”

She stands up, straightens her skirt, and opens the door. “Come on. He's waiting for you.”

I follow her out of her office. She's walking slowly, and it's like being in one of those old pirate movies where the guy is walking the plank. I want to stop and say that I've done nothing wrong and don't deserve this, but I know that isn't true so I keep my mouth shut.

When we get to the end of the hall, she pauses outside the door and Kevin pulls me aside. He looks almost as jumbled up as I feel.

He grabs my arm and pushes a button on my watch, then whispers in my ear: “Twenty minutes and it will be over.”

I look down and see the stopwatch on my wrist counting down the seconds.

Ms. DeSilva opens the door and leads me in. I look at the floor, following the trail of paisleys in. I don't want to look up. I don't want to see his eyes, but I can feel them on me. Stripping me. Cutting into me.

I can see the legs of a chair so I push myself into it. I grip the arms, and I look up.