handle the responsibility. I was almost sixteen. The fact remained, I could watch my brothers as easily in Savannah as I could here in Kilkenny, but that wasn’t the question that came out. “Why you, Mom?”
“Tessa, we’ve been through this before.”
We had. I knew she would give me the same answer she always did when she had to stay overnight with a patient who had a high risk pregnancy. If the pregnancies were that complicated, why didn’t the mothers go to the hospital? My mother never liked that question, so today I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to fight. I just wanted to know why we couldn’t go with her. This time I stated my preference matter-of-factly. “We’ll go with you then.”
Jon pointed outside where my brothers were setting up an obstacle course with the trash they found by the shed.
“Your brothers will have much more fun here. We have a huge yard and a forest behind our property with more trees than they can climb in a month. This is exponentially better for you kids than a hotel, and you can continue to fix things up while your mother is gone,” he said.
I wished he’d shut up. He only wanted us here so he wouldn’t be alone and so he’d have someone to cook, clean and do his laundry. I would be Cinderella while my mother was away.
“It’s safer too,” Mom added. “The house is set back off the street and the backyard is fenced in. It’s much safer than having you hang out at a hotel swimming pool all day without a parent around.”
“You work nights, Mother. We can be with you during the day and be inside at night.” I was losing the argument. I had to control my temper. It was time for guilt. “You promised you wouldn’t work this summer. Promised we would decorate and paint and go to the beach. This summer was supposed to be different. It isn’t fair!”
“Life isn’t always fair,” Jon said like I was a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. “This isn’t the time for you to be selfish.”
“Easy for you to say, Jon, since our lives revolve around you and your job. I’m the one without friends. I’m the one without a social life, without any life. If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to at least be with my mother.” Clear anger pulsed through my words, and I barely kept from shouting. I really wanted to scream; scream how much my life sucked and that things would be different if my dad was alive. My fists were balled up, and rage bubbled up inside of me. I saw a hint of guilt cross Mom’s face. Then it was gone. Why wasn’t she sticking up for me? My mother studied me with a curious look waiting for something; possibly my final eruption.
Jon said, “Tessa, go see what your brothers are doing.”
And he wondered why I didn’t like him. He didn’t care what my brothers were doing. That was Jon’s way of telling me to go away. He and Mom needed to talk.
His comment sparked my final outburst. “You just don’t care!” I screamed. Then I stormed away and slammed my bedroom door.
How could Jon call anyone selfish? The word was invented to describe him. Disappointment, resentment and pure, seething rage swirled through my brain like never before. I felt my emotions combust and burn through my entire body as if it were on fire. My body temperature rose, my hands shook and my eyes ached. Not like the ache just before I cried, I was far from crying. It was a different kind of ache that surrounded my eyeballs – like the fury I felt was literally emanating from behind my eyes. I turned to see my reflection in my bedroom mirror. My face was so red I thought I’d burst a blood vessel any moment, but that wasn’t the scariest part. My eyes had turned to yellow glowing orbs like an angry fire. I moved closer to the mirror. I shook so badly it was impossible to focus on my reflection. I closed my eyes tightly and took several long, deep breaths to calm myself. When I reopened them, the shaking slowed but the glow of my eyes remained.
One final time I closed my eyes, counted to thirty and reopened them. The shaking had stopped, my face was no longer red and staring back at me were my clear, blue eyes. Over my shoulder, sunlight streamed into my room through the window. Had the sun reflected off my mirror causing the glow or was I hallucinating?
After several more minutes and countless deep breaths, I opened my door intent to calmly plead my case again. I heard whispers and then crying. Had I made Mom cry or was she crying over the babies that died? I wanted her to care more about me. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe I was selfish.
I walked down the hall and peered into the kitchen. Jon wasn’t the best stepdad in the world. He had an annoying know-it-all way about him. He acted like he was in charge. We all knew that Mom was in charge, but she tolerated his posturing, so we had to as well. But when Mom was upset and needed comfort, Jon knew exactly what to do. He held her close and smoothed her long hair from the crown of her head to the middle of her back over and over. I heard him whisper words of comfort while her body heaved in anguish. Jon was her rock. Dad used to be her rock. I went from rage to guilt to empty. I hurt my mom terribly, and I ached for my dad.
During dinner, Mom broke the news to my brothers. She would leave in the morning and be gone for a couple of weeks. She told them about the babies still to be delivered and how their due dates were a couple weeks apart. I knew my brothers still didn’t understand ‘why her’ either, but they knew better and didn’t ask – and after making her cry earlier, I refused to make this any harder on her.
Still, this wasn’t the summer they had promised us. I understood life isn’t always fair – but for the last five years, it seemed disproportionally unfair to me. I didn’t have any friends. I’d never had a boyfriend. If it wasn’t for technology and television, I’d be completely out of touch with the life of a teenager. And if I didn’t love to read, I’d be bored out of my mind. I hated my life.
Two or three weeks with Jon; could my life get any worse?
Chapter 2
I didn’t want to be at the beach. If I had a normal life, I’d spend my Saturday sitting with my friends talking about who the cute guys were and what we wanted to buy at the mall. But my life was anything but normal.
We’d been in Kilkenny, South Carolina for eight days. Mom had gone back to Savannah that morning to take care of people more important to her than her family, I guess. That probably wasn’t fair to say, but it was how I felt. Why couldn’t my brothers and I have stayed with her in Savannah? Jon could still do his work here. That would have been a better idea. They disagreed. Now Mom was alone, and we were with Jon, the poster child for the Awkward Boy Scout Leader, if that isn’t redundant.
That morning we had finished priming the rest of the kitchen cabinets, then headed for Clowder Beach – more of a local beach than a gathering spot for tourists, not that Kilkenny had many, from what I could tell. Jon insisted on making the 10 minute drive to the beach, a 90 minute torturous, boring field trip through our new hometown. My little brothers were their typical immature selves – they mocked each other in the back seat and knocked me in the head with their rafts. By the time we reached the beach, I was close to being car sick, sick of my family and sick of smelling Jon’s cinnamon gum.
Finally we parked at the beach, and Boy Scout Jon led us through the sand in search of the perfect spot. Besides being a fashion emergency in his dark plaid shirt and short khaki shorts, he had my old Little Mermaid backpack slung over his shoulder and dragged our cooler ineptly behind him. I wondered if the cooler was too heavy for him to navigate or if he was just naturally ungraceful. I should have been thankful he didn’t bring a Boy Scout whistle… that would’ve been the cherry on top.
“Come on troop, let’s stay together. Tess, you’re laggin’
