Underneath the Sycamore Tree(88)

I’m unsettled because I know this is it.

I can’t sleep because I’m afraid of never waking up. Just like Lo. Her body was so still when Mama came in to check on her. I’d woken up to Mama’s loud cries as she kneeled beside Lo, holding her stiff, unmoving hand.

Her eyes had been closed.

Peaceful.

Sleeping eternally.

When Kaiden showed back up, he was wearing jeans, a tee, and his letterman jacket. His feet were shoved into a pair of his favorite blue sneakers that were some fancy brand made by an ex-basketball player, which was a step in the right direction from the bare feet he sported the night before. He and Cam brought back Dad a change of clothes, so he could finally get out of the pajamas he’s worn since we arrived.

I spent that time pretending to sleep and listening to Mama and Dad argue about my wellbeing. They were trying to figure out what to do next, how to move forward. It was only when I finally opened my eyes that they painted smiles on their faces and acted like they weren’t trying to figure out how to convince me to try fighting.

Internally, I scoff.

I’ve been fighting for years. I fought for Mama’s attention. For her affection. To fit in. I’ve fought against my ill feelings toward Dad. The way I resented Lo for leaving me.

I fight myself every single day.

I fight to pretend I’m fine.

To admit I’m not.

To survive.

So, I tell them both they can’t change my mind. What’s done is done. All the times I’ve been denied by professionals. Criticized by peers. Questioned by relatives. I’m not fighting anyone anymore.

It’s too late, don’t you get it?

Mama had to walk out. Her body shook so bad I thought she’d faint. Dad stayed in my room and just watched me in silence. He wants to say something, to argue, to make a point.

He’s learned by now that there is none.

He’s gotten to know me.

He’s figured me out.

Like when I tell Cam that asparagus sounds good for dinner, but then he sneakily slips it off my plate onto his when she’s not looking because he knows I don’t like it.

Or when I scrunch my face at something he chooses to watch on TV at night and he switches it to something everyone would like.

He asks about Kaiden.

We’re friends. Best friends.

Because it’s true.

Kaiden Monroe made everything bearable. School. Home. He turned out to be the person I could trust enough to share my firsts. In my eyes, he was my only true ally. I lived thinking I wouldn’t experience what it felt like to be cherished because my body was too depleted by my health. Kaiden gave me everything I couldn’t think of asking for before moving to Exeter.

Dad didn’t seem to buy it.

But he didn’t question it either.

Because he called me Mouse once.

Now Kaiden is pushing me along the hall with Dad and Cam trailing behind. Mama and Grandma went to get food in the cafeteria, giving us time together as I stared at the rainbow and its pretty pastel colors.

The dull ache in my body is tolerable because of the medicine they pumped through me first thing this morning. There’s feeling in my right side that seems promising in the grand scheme of things. I can process my words and talk without too much hassle. Despite the nurses giving me sympathetic smiles and Dr. Thorne asking me how I am every hour, I’m okay.

Okay as I can be.

Calm. Relaxed. Realistic.

Much to the dismay of my parents, I convinced Kaiden to get me the rest of my schoolwork in order to finish junior year. After quiet arguments in between nurse and doctor checkins, Dad relented and called the school asking if I could take my remaining exams in the hospital. The school, even the poor disorganized Principal Richman, knew they had no place to deny me a simple favor.

How many other people wanted to spend their time in a hospital bed filling in bubble sheets and calculating statistics? I only knew about one statistic that mattered, and I’d accepted it. The answers I scrawled across my paper, while seemingly unimportant, allowed me the mundane normalcy I needed even now. Even considering…

Everyone helped me when fogginess made me forget how to put together my words. Dad would put in numbers in his phone’s calculator app so I could write down the answer on my math exam. Mama would read aloud a poem so many times I’m sure the elderly lady next door could recite it by heart. Grandma would try helping me figure out a chemistry question based on the diagram, and Kaiden drew pictures on the notepad provided by Thorne. He said there’s no art final, but he wanted to cheer me up. So, every ten minutes I’d get a new image on my lap, distracting me from my homework. A mouse. A pill bottle with a penis drawn where the prescription would be—that one I hid from my parents though Grandma saw it and snickered.

But my favorite was the one tucked into the hoodie Cam had brought me during one of her few trips home for different clothes. It was Kaiden and me leaning against a tree with a grave between us. A grave labeled with Lo’s name.

He didn’t say a word. I didn’t either. I just reached into my pocket and touched the wrinkled paper when I needed a moment to collect myself.

My eyelids want to droop and close from lack of sleep at this point, but I don’t tell Kaiden that, so we keep going down the hall. Besides some random ramblings, he’s been quiet almost the entire time. Once in a while he’ll make comments on the old photographs on the walls, making fun of the old portraits of patrons and founders. He teased me when I finished all my finals, calling me a nerd. A senior nerd. Since then, he’s barely spoken a peep.