Anything but Ordinary(58)

“I—” Bryce searched for the words, watching the birds reassemble around the pool, pecking at the water. “I don’t want them to think they could do something when they can’t. I don’t want them to scramble around, trying to fix things, and argue about the right way to do it. I don’t want them to spend any more time in the hospital. I want them to be happy. I’ll have to lie to them, but at least they’ll be happy.”

She expected Dr. Warren to object, to insist that no, Bryce couldn’t do this on her own. That the hospital should help them through this transition. All the things Bryce had heard before.

Instead, Dr. Warren’s face broke into a sad smile. She lifted her arms and pulled Bryce to her chest. “All right, honey,” she said. “All right.”

Bryce allowed herself to stay next to Dr. Warren for a long time, and the doctor didn’t let go either. They had always bumped heads, but the doctor had been steady for her in that way, like a rock she could never move. So Bryce just leaned against her now.

They got up to go and walked through the park’s paths, Dr. Warren rolling up the sleeves of her linen blouse against the heat. Bryce decided she would call her parents and ride home with them. She wanted to hear about their date.

“If you need anything, you know where I am,” the doctor said as she got into her car. “Things are going to get…harder in the next few weeks. I can help with that if you call me.”

“Thank you, Dr. Warren.”

“And take care, Bryce.” She smiled. A breeze finally picked up, rustling the leaves above them.

I’ll try, Bryce thought. I’ll try.





eady, aim, hit.

And hit. And hit. Bryce felt wood breaking little by little under the force of her blows, driving the nail deep. She’d been helping her dad fix up the barn, and the physical work felt good. Muscles in her shoulders that hadn’t been used since five years ago, when she swam for three hours every day, were crying out in pain. But the ache was the equivalent of a stretch in the morning. It was a pure, happy ache of waking up. Sweat pricked her forehead.

The barn was shady and cooler than outside, but after an hour with the hammer Bryce was more heated and out of breath than she should have been. She wasn’t about to tell her dad that, though, hammering away next to her. She couldn’t risk him asking why.

It had been a week since the canceled wedding, since she had spoken with Dr. Warren, and Bryce was starting to get headaches more often than she used to. Small, dull headaches that went away quickly. Her breath was getting short after she walked up the stairs.

There was no way she’d ruin everything by letting on, not after last week, when her dad surprised her mom with a trip to a bed-and-breakfast for their anniversary. They stole kisses in front of Sydney and Bryce, and when they waved from the car Sydney had graced her with one of her rare smiles.

She told Bryce last year at this time their mom completely forgot their anniversary. “Dad threw away the crappy bouquet he bought for her when she came into the kitchen to refill her wineglass. Neither of them said a word.”

Sydney had stayed home a couple of nights last week. “I’m not going to leave an invalid all by herself,” she had said, flopping on the couch in her thigh-high socks and enormous T-shirt, this one covered in a picture of Courtney Love collapsed onstage.

“I’m not an invalid,” Bryce had protested. She wondered if Sydney had noticed she was starting to move slower these days, to match her lungs. But Syd just smiled and tossed her the remote.



The barn was really starting to shape up. Bryce pounded in the last nail on a long row and stepped back to admire the job. In one Saturday she and her dad had managed to replace most of the rotting beams in the walls and floors. It looked a bit patchy with the bright yellow of the new wood standing out from the rest, but it didn’t smell like mold anymore.

“Now, what about the plane?” Bryce sidled up to her dad, nudging him with her elbow.

He put his arm around her. “We’ll see, Brycey. We’ll see.”

She helped him pack up his tools, and they headed into the house. They’d been at it all day, and it was getting dark.

When they got in, Sydney was padding around the halls in various stages of dress, digging through drawers for eyeliner or jewelry. She scurried around while Bryce ate dinner with her parents, shoving the contents of her plate into her mouth before applying lipstick.

Bryce flopped on the couch with a bowl of M&M’s and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. She was really reading it this time, not just for school. She was putting herself into the story, the way Sam would imagine it. If she could picture his peaceful face, the story unfolding under his closed eyes, it made her feel better about whatever was waiting for her.

“Bryce.” Bryce followed the path of Sydney’s fishnetted legs up to her made-up face. “Can I borrow your pearl earrings?”

“What for?” Bryce asked. But she knew what for.

“I was thinking about putting them in my soup,” Sydney said sarcastically.

Bryce filtered a handful of M&M’s in her mouth, excluding the red ones, which she hated. “No, Syd. I’m sorry. You may not wear my vintage pearl earrings.”

“Ugh!” Sydney protested. “Why not?”

Bryce stood up. “Because I’m going to wear them.”