Wild Child

“Jeff, listen to me. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, but you need to stay put until they let you go.”

“To hell with that!  I’m going.”

I walk to the closet to get the clothes Mom brought me a few days ago.

“Jeffrey, this could set you back. It could—”

Angrily, I whirl toward her.  “I don’t give a shit, Mom. It’s Jenna.”  When she does nothing but stare at me, I repeat.  “It’s Jenna.”

I pull on the jeans I was going to wear when they let me go.  Turns out I’m going to wear them today.

When I go find Jenna.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE- Jenna

I hear the honking again.  I wonder vaguely why people keep honking at me.  I’m driving straight. I’m within the lines.

Another car goes flying past as though I’m standing still.  It’s then I realize that I am.  Again.  For the fourth time, I’ve stopped in the middle of the road and not even realized it until a car honks its horn angrily and then speeds by like a bat out of hell.

The nurse in the ER asked if there was family she could call for me.  I stared blankly at her as I went through a mental list and came up with no one.  My mother is dead.  My father is dead. My brother is…well, he’s somewhere.  But not here.  My answer to her was no, I have no family for her to call.

I could’ve had her call Cami, but she feels far from me today.  Her life is happy and perfect, not a place for all my troubles and woes, let alone a place for death and loss.

Without her, I really am alone.  All alone.  The only other person who means anything to me in this town couldn’t care less that my world just exploded.  He made his feelings about me very clear.

As I pull off the road onto the long drive that leads to my house, I remember how, just a few weeks ago, I was enjoying the feelings of comfort this part of the drive was bringing me.  Now, it feels empty.  Hollow.  Painful.

Once I park in my usual spot at the house, I get out of the car and, on stiff legs, make my way up the steps to the porch.  The door is slightly ajar; I didn’t even bother to close it before I left to follow the ambulance.

I push it open and stop just inside the foyer to listen, to smell, to experience home the way I always have.  But I can’t.  This isn’t the home that I’ve returned to every year for so many.  This is just the place that my dad no longer inhabits. It’s just a series of rooms alive with only the ghost of his memory.  Nothing more.

I hear a slow, steady clicking and look up to see Einstein standing in the kitchen doorway.  His eyes are sober as he watches me.  He drops to the floor and lays his head on his paws, a soft whine screeching at the back of his throat.  He knows something is wrong.  So, so wrong.

I walk past him to the kitchen.  I see my father reheating fried chicken for me and scrubbing me on top of the head in that loving way he used to do.  I turn away, back toward the den.  There, I see my father laughing and eating popcorn, and giving me philosophical advice.  I turn back toward the stairs and know that, at the top, is his bedroom—now and forever empty and cold.

There is no longer any happiness here, any comfort.  There is pain and loss and a future without my father.  The floorboards don’t ooze peach syrup anymore; they ooze the most hideous kind of heartbreak.  The walls don’t shake with laughter anymore; they shake with grief.  The air doesn’t smell of home anymore; it smells of my own personal hell.

So I run.

I run back through the house, back out the door, back out into the driveway.  And I stand there.  Looking at the house.  Knowing I can’t go back inside.  Not now.  Maybe not ever.

Little by little, this town has taken every bit of happiness I’ve ever had.  It has swallowed it up and left me standing, broken and alone, staring at an empty house with an empty life.

I feel the first drop like a cool tear to my cheek.  I look up at the sky, at the dull gray clouds that mirror the bleakness in my chest, and I see the rain begin.  Slow at first, like the sky itself is suddenly feeling my pain.  And then, like the break in my heart, it opens up and weeps for me, pouring rain over my upturned face.

Impervious to the downpour, I stand in the driveway, in the rain, looking at the house.  I wish with all my heart the drops would just wash it away.  Along with the pain.

I glance up at the windows, gaping black holes staring back at me, mocking me with what is no longer behind them, with who is no longer behind them.  And never will be again.

One second the tenuous hold I have on my emotions is intact, the next it’s gone.  And the damn breaks.

With a scream that echoes through my head like a coyote’s cry echoes through a canyon, it is torn from my lungs, from my chest, from my lips in one long, agonizing wail.  The rain steals the sound and carries it to the ground, where it’s as dead as my father.  And I’m once again all alone in the deafening silence.

Turning from the house, I take off at a run for the gate, for the orchard that took my father’s life.  If I had a knife, I would cut the bark of every tree I pass until they bleed their life in thick, sticky rivulets.  Penance for the life they stole.

I can’t see past the tears, past the rain.  Past the pain.  My foot finds a hole and my balance is lost. I see the ground coming toward my face with alarming speed.  My knees hit first, the impact jarring my teeth.  I close my eyes and throw out my arms to brace myself.  But before I make contact with the ground, strong fingers are winding around my upper arms, stopping my descent.

One heartbeat brings confusion.  The next, recognition.  I don’t have to look back to know who’s got me.  Who caught me.  Who saved me.

Rusty turns me toward him. I stare up into his eyes.  They’re deeply pained at the moment, as though they’re a reflection of my own.

“Jenna,” he whispers softly.

“What are you doing here?”

His eyes search mine.  “I came for you.”

“But why?” I ask, unwilling to give in to the hope that has left me so devastated so many times before.

“In case you need me,” he responds simply.

Bitterness rises to the surface to mix with the pain. It blurs the lines of my feelings.  “You shouldn’t have,” I spit.  “I don’t need you.”

I see hurt flash through his eyes.  “What if I need you?”

“But you don’t. You made that all too clear.”

“I was an idiot, Jenna.  I was a proud, arrogant idiot.  But I’m here now. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“No, it doesn’t. It can’t.  It can’t,” I hiss, my voice getting louder and louder as my emotions churn.  “I can’t wait for you anymore, Rusty. I can’t lose anyone else.  My heart can’t take it.  You had your chance and you blew it.  Now let me go and get the hell off my land.”

I twist my body, trying to wrench free of his iron grip, all to no avail.  Despite the fact that one arm is in a cast, Rusty is still stronger than me.

“I can’t,” he growls down into my face.

“What are you even doing here?” I scream, channeling my rage at the world, my rage at life into fury at Rusty.  “Aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital, forgetting about me?”

“I was, but I left.”

“Then go back. I don’t want you here.”

“I can’t,” he says again.

“Why not?”

“Because I came here for you, Jenna.”

“Why? I didn’t ask you to come here.  I never asked you for one thing.  But now I am. I’m asking you to leave.  Just leave.  Leave me alone!”