Don't Kiss the Messenger (Edgelake High School, #1)(76)

My phone rang and when I saw my dad’s name on the caller I.D. my stomach twisted in knots.

“Dad?” I asked.

“CeCe.”

His voice was strained. I knew it was my mom. Something happened. I was already taking the stairs, two at a time, to my room.

“Your mom had an accident.”

“What—”

“She fell on the ice. We’re at the hospital.”

I grabbed my luggage bag off the top shelf of my closet and threw it on my bed. I blindly threw clothes inside.

“She’ll be okay, but if you could come up a few days early, I’m sure she’d love—”

“I’m on my way,” I said.

…

My roommate, Kelsey, let me borrow her car. It was an old Toyota hand-me-down from her parents that had turned into a communal apartment car.

I drove the three hundred miles north, only stopping once for gas and a coffee fix. When I walked in the hospital the nurse recognized me and waved me toward the elevator. I got inside and pushed the fourth floor. My mind was like a picture slide show as the elevator rose. Images filled my head: sitting outside next to the fire pit with my mom, staring at the stars. Camping on the island. Family ski trips. Eating dinner on my dad’s fishing boat and watching the sunset paint the water in a neon glow. They were all the highlights. The good times. The memories that proved no matter how far we drifted apart, something even stronger bonded us together.

The elevator doors opened and when I turned the corner, I could hear talking down the hall. I walked into a hospital room lit by a miniature Christmas tree that stood on a table in the corner. I was relieved to see my mom was sitting up in the bed, knitting. I inhaled my first full breath in hours. She was braced behind a half dozen pillows. An afghan was spread across her legs, depicting a winter scene of twelve-point bucks grazing through a moonlit forest. Yep, I was definitely home.

She looked up at me with surprise.

“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be home until Wednesday.”

My dad and I exchanged looks. He hadn’t even mentioned I was coming? He set aside his newspaper and stood up.

“I called her,” he admitted, a little sheepishly as if he was ashamed. He walked over and pulled me into a hug.

She set down her needles. “Josh, I told you not to make a big deal out of this.”

I returned her stubborn glare. “It is a big deal, Mom. You’re in the hospital. I wanted to be here.” I sat down in the chair next to her bed. “What happened?”

“Another slipped disc in my back,” she said. “The only remedy is to rest.” She said the word rest like she had bitten down on something sour. I looked over on the counter. There were skeins of yarn everywhere, and my mom was nearly finished with a pair of mittens. My dad and I exchanged a knowing smile.

“You’re resting?” I asked.

“Idle hands make an idle mind,” she said. She picked up her needles and started knitting again.

“We found a chiropractor in Ashland who can help her,” Dad told me. “Hopefully we can avoid this kind of thing from happening.” He paused. “But insurance won’t cover it.”

I nodded.

“Mom mentioned you want to have surgery again?” He managed to keep his voice light, like thousands of dollars in medical bills didn’t affect his seasonal income. It was amazing the kind of stresses parents hide from their kids. I knew I should be grateful, but I was just tired of hiding. I wanted to start opening up about the reality of these burdens.

Before I could open my mouth to argue, he kept going.

“We can do it. We just have to organize the finances.”

I shook my head. “I don’t need the surgery. I don’t want it.” I looked over at my mom. “I panicked when I called you.”

My dad crossed his arms over his chest. That didn’t sound like an Edmonds trait. “You panicked?”

I smiled. “Just listen. I think, more than anything, I needed to break down. I needed you guys to accept that side of me.” I swallowed. “I feel like, after the accident, we were all trying so hard to recover, we forgot to grieve. We forgot to let ourselves hurt and let scars show. We were so determined to fight. And I’m not saying that was wrong, maybe it’s what you and Mom needed. But it doesn’t always work for me. I want us to be able to talk. About anything. Good and bad.”

I gestured to my mom sitting in the hospital bed.

“I want us to be there for each other, not just through the good times. You don’t even need people when things are good. You need them when you’re at your worst.”

My mom nodded.

“I had no idea you were having a hard time, CeCe,” my dad said. “I wish you would have said something sooner.”

I shrugged. “You guys have been through so much already. You’ve done so much for me. I didn’t want to cause any more stress. But then I got tired of holding it all in.”

“So what made you open up?” my dad asked.

I looked at my mom and sighed. “Things got messy this year.”

She smiled. “You know, CeCe, when life is incredibly messy, I think it’s a sign something incredible is about to happen.”

I blew out a sigh. I wished I shared her optimism. But right now all I could see was the path of destruction I had created. I couldn’t imagine smoothing it out. It was time to move on.