Healing Rain (2 page)

 

 

It was only about a ten minute walk to our apartment from Dr. Hope's office, even though they were sort of on opposite sides of the town. That showed how small this town really was. It was hard to get used to a place this tiny; it was such a big change from where I grew up. We were surrounded by so much to
do
in St. Louis, Missouri – big movie theatres, multiple shopping malls, concert venues, an uncountable number of restaurants featuring any kind of food you could ever possibly want – you name it, the Lou had it. On the walk across Ridgewater, Illinois, population 1,121 people, I saw the local grocery store, a couple of gas stations, and one of the very few restaurants in the entire town. The restaurants were small, mom-and-pop-type places where you could always find the old farmer men sitting at their usual tables, eating their usual pieces of pie or cobbler and discussing their crops. My mom happened to work as a waitress in one of those restaurants, a small pizza and pasta place called Roxano's Restaurant. It was right in the middle of the town, right next to the
only stoplight in the whole town
. Crazy, right? She seemed to like the job just fine, but she would come home looking exhausted after her shifts and didn't have the energy to cook or clean very often anymore. I ended up doing most of the household duties, but strangely, I didn't mind. It gave me something to do, for one thing, but it was also nice to feel
needed
around the house.

I came home to find Tyler, my seven-year-old brother, watching TV in the living room. “Hey, Ty. Mom at work?” I asked him, looking at the clock.

“Yeah, she just left. You just missed her,” he said, not really looking at me. He was too focused on whatever he was watching.

“You had any dinner yet?” I asked him, already knowing what the answer would be.

“No. Mom was running late so she didn't have time to fix anything. She told me to make a peanut butter sandwich,” he replied, still not turning away from the TV.

“That's what I figured. You want me to cook something instead? I could make those chicken strips you like, and maybe some mac and cheese?”

“Yeah! Make it now; I'm starving!” he shouted. “I mean, please.” He turned to me, grinning sheepishly.

I smiled back and then walked to the kitchen. Though I really was not much of a cook, he was pretty easy to please. I took the bag of chicken strips out of the freezer, put a few of them onto a baking sheet, and turned on the oven. Then I put a pot of water onto the stove so that it would boil for the macaroni noodles. Scowling, I thought about what Tyler had said about Mom telling him to make a peanut butter sandwich. That was basically the only thing Tyler knew how to make, so he ended up making them a lot. Mom wasn't home for many meals, and like I said before, she was usually too tired to cook when she was. I understood that she was busy and everything, but did she think the kid could just
live
on those peanut butter sandwiches? Sometimes I just wished she didn't have to work so much so that she could be home a little more often. She worked almost every day of the week and often picked up double shifts.

I dumped the noodles into the boiling water and set the timer for the chicken strips. As I waited for the meal to cook, I sat down at the kitchen table with the newspaper. The piece on the front page about school registration made me wince. It was hard to believe it was that time again. Less than one week of freedom remained before I had to start my new life in a new school, full of new students and new teachers. My stomach lurched uncomfortably at the thought.

School had never made me nervous before. As cheesy as it sounded, I even used to
like
school. I was good at it. My grades were good and I had a lot of friends. Sports and school clubs like Student Council and Beta Club kept me busy. I took gymnastics once a week, and I had been in cheerleading since sixth grade. Since I could walk, I had played softball, and I had also gotten into volleyball since I started high school. Besides being active in school, I was also really involved in my church. My Christian faith was everything to me, and it carried over into who I was at school as well – I was president of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes Club, and led prayer circles and Bible study groups for my peers. And as if all that wasn't enough to keep me busy, I also took piano lessons. Luckily, I had gotten an ounce of my dad's natural musical talent, and by my teen years, I wasn't half bad.

Of course, all that was over at the end of my sophomore year. Every bit of it. The good grades, the friends, the sports, the clubs, my faith, everything. I grew up in this wonderful bubble with no idea how my world could be torn apart and how easy it was to lose everything I had worked for.

As I sat in fear, thinking about what my junior year at a new school might be like, I also felt a strange glimpse of…excitement. It might be nice to start over in a new school where no one knew me. No one knew what kind of person I had been at my old school. No one knew about my dad, and no one knew what I had done to myself. I could pretty much reinvent myself if I wanted; there would be no expectations.

As I considered this, the timer went off. The chicken strips were cooked, and the macaroni noodles were done boiling. I drained the noodles and put them back into the pot, where I added the cheese sauce and milk. I then got out two glasses and filled them with ice, and took out the jug of sweet tea. “Tyler, dinner's ready!” I called.

Tyler came running into the kitchen and sat down at the table. I filled his plate and put it in front of him before filling my own. Then I poured our drinks and joined him at the table. He was already halfway through his plate by the time I sat down. The boy could definitely wolf down some food.

Neither of us said anything for a while as we ate. After a few minutes of silence, Tyler stopped and put down his fork. “Hey Rain, are you going to get a car when you turn seventeen?”

I smiled at him. “I doubt it, buddy. I don't think that's something I can afford right now. I have a little money saved, but not enough for a car.” It was sad to say that out loud. I missed my old car – a fabulous white SUV that I had gotten as my sixteenth birthday present from my parents. Of course, after all the craziness, we sold the car because my mom could not afford to keep making the payments, and the measly babysitting money I made off the neighbor's kids back home was definitely not enough to help. When I offered to sell the car so that I could eventually get a cheaper one, I was really hoping to do so in time for my seventeenth birthday. But, with my birthday being only one month away combined with the fact that I had not gotten a new job since we moved to make any more money, I didn't see that being possible.

He looked at me with confusion. “Can't Mom buy you one?”

I sighed. Sometimes I forgot that he was only seven. I knew that he really didn't understand all of the financial trouble we were in, and I didn't
want
him to have to understand that. He was too young to worry about that kind of stuff. I tried to think of how I could phrase it delicately. “Well, Ty, I'm sure Mom will help me with one eventually. I just don't think it will happen right away. Cars are really expensive, and it takes time to get enough money together to buy one.”

He thought about that for a few minutes, and went back to eating his dinner. I thought I had satisfied his questions, but then he took me by surprise when he said, “But, we just sold that ginormous house we used to live in. Shouldn't that give Mom enough money to buy you a car?”

Man, he was smart for a seven-year-old. This was not really a subject I felt comfortable discussing with him. I thought for a minute, pretending to chew my food before I answered. “Well, buddy, here's the thing. When Dad died, there were lots of things that our family still needed to pay for. Credit card bills and stuff like that.” Boy, was that an understatement! If I was telling him the truth, I would have added that most of those bills were bills that Mom hadn't even known existed, because Dad had gotten the family into a lot of debt in secret. I also would have told him that Dad thought suicide would be the easy way out of it all, but that the ugly debt had followed us all the way out of our old “ginormous” house and into this tiny apartment five and a half hours away. I would have told him that the money from that house was not actually
ours
, because we were forced to sell that house when we couldn't afford to stay there.

But, obviously, I couldn't tell him all of that. He wouldn't understand, and I didn't want him to. I wanted him to remember Dad as the awesome guy that he had been – the guy that took us on vacations and rode roller coasters with us at amusement parks, who set up lighting equipment in our basement to make it look like a rock concert so we could jam out and pretend to be famous, who taught us how to fish and ride bikes and built forts with us. I didn't want him to know all the bad stuff.

So, I continued. “Well, we had to use the money from the house to pay for that kind of stuff instead. So, there's not enough left over to buy a car,” I concluded. I watched his face as I spoke, wondering what he was going to ask me next. Surprisingly, he just nodded. I guess my answer had made sense in his mind, but he was still frowning and seemed to be thinking. Before he could say anything else about it, I decided to change the subject.

“So, are you excited to start second grade?” I asked him, putting on my sunniest smile and trying to forget about our previous conversation.

It worked. His face brightened. “Yeah, I'm ready. I'm getting bored around here. I'm ready to make some friends. I don't know anyone.”

I smiled at his confidence about making friends. At his age, I guess, it was pretty easy to do. New kids were always accepted easily in elementary school. I knew that was not always the case in high school.

He finished his plate and stood up. “Do you care if I go play now?” he asked.

“Sure,” I replied. “It won't take me long to clean up here, and then if you want, I will come and play with you.”

His eyes got big. “Really? Awesome! Can we play pirates?” he asked, practically jumping up and down.

I rolled my eyes. “I suppose. Go get the bathtub ready and by the time you're done, I'll be there. We can play for a couple of hours, but then we need to get you to bed, mister. Just because Mom is working late doesn't mean you get to stay up late like last time.”

“I'll go get the tub ready!” he said, sprinting off and ignoring what I had said about going to bed early. His excitement about playing pirates with me made me feel guilty that I didn't play with him more often.

Pirates was a game that Dad had invented when we were younger. We played it by putting blankets down in the bathtub (when it was dry, of course) which served as the boat. We then put anything in there that we thought we might need, such as food or clothing or whatever else we wanted. I used to take dolls and stuffed animals as well. Tyler would usually take some of his action figures and toy cars. Then, once the bathtub was ready, we got in and shut the door, and we were sailing away in some ocean. Suddenly, the pirates (a.k.a. Dad) would come and attack the ship, and we had to abandon it, pretending to swim across the bathroom floor and into the rest of the house while the pirates chased us through the “water.” I always pretended to hate playing the game and acted like I only did it for Tyler's sake, but I had to admit, the game was a lot of fun. At least, it was in our old house, where there were plenty of hiding places. I wasn't sure how it would work in this small apartment. And I really wasn't sure how it would work without Dad.

I tried to push those thoughts out of my head as I cleaned up the dinner. There were enough leftovers to make a plate for Mom, which I did in case she was hungry when she got home late. Slowly I washed the few dirty dishes, allowing Tyler enough time to get the bathtub ready for our game. I could hear him down the hall, rushing around and grabbing things for the boat. He sounded so energized, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

I felt a pang of envy wash over me as I listened to him. He was so young; he didn't have to deal with our family situation the way I did. He didn't understand what Dad had done, and he didn't understand the severity of our financial problems. It had always been weird, having a nine-year age difference between the two of us, but in some ways, I used to like it. There was never any competition between the two of us when it came to school or our parents, and I never had to worry about him really getting into my business when it came to boys or any other private teenage issues because he was too young to comprehend. All my friends had brothers or sisters who were only a year or two apart from them, and they fought all the time and told on each other and generally made each other miserable. Tyler and I never had to deal with that kind of relationship. But, as much as I wanted to protect him from all the craziness that had taken place, I also sometimes wished he was older so that he could be aware of it all. It would just be nice to have someone to talk to about everything. It would also be nice to have a brother in high school so that I would not be going there alone in a few days.

Ugh. I was not going to start worrying again. With only a few precious days left before I had to face a new school, I did not want to spend that time stressing about it. I wrapped the plate of leftovers and put them into the refrigerator, and wiped down the stove. Once the kitchen was clean, I yelled down the hall in my roughest pirate voice, “Aye, maties, I think I see a civilian ship just ahead! I wonder what kind of loot there is on that boat that I can steal…”

Before I could say another word, Tyler squealed with delight. I took off down the hall after him, temporarily forgetting all of our troubles.

 

 

You know that old saying, “Time flies when you're having fun?” Well, the truth is that time flies even if you're
not
having fun. In fact, the only time that time does
not
fly is when you are sitting in one of Mr. Durham's history lessons. In his classroom, I'm fairly confident he actually found a way to make time stand still so that we could sit and listen to him talk forever. I really hoped my new school would not have a teacher like Mr. Durham.

Unfortunately, I was about to find out what teachers I would have. My last few days of liberty flew by, even though they were rather uneventful and not at all what I would call “fun.” In fact, they consisted of a lot of just hanging out around the house, besides the usual cooking, cleaning, and running to the grocery store. All too soon, it was Thursday – what should have been my last day of freedom. However, I woke up with a miserable feeling on Thursday morning for two reasons: first of all, I had to go register for school in the morning, and second, I had to go back to see Dr. Hope in the afternoon.

I hadn't thought about Dr. Hope once since I left there on Monday, and I really wasn't looking forward to seeing her again. Why couldn't she just tell my doctor I was healed or cured or whatever she needed to say so that I could eliminate this therapy stress from my already stressful life? Maybe if I just went in there and acted cheerful she would fall for it and do just that. I wondered how many sessions it would take to convince her.

I sighed as I realized I knew better than that. No doubt she would see through that act right away. She seemed to be pretty smart and, even though she had irritated me at the first session, at least she was honest. I owed her that much too, I guess.

Anyway, I first needed to face school. It was only registration, and would probably be over in minutes, but I was still nervous. For one thing, I had never been to school registration without my mom before. I knew that I was sixteen years old and old enough to go in and fill out a registration card by myself. In fact, the past couple of years, I
had
filled out the card by myself even though my mom was there with me, because I made her stay out in the car while I went in alone. No one took their moms into the school with them in high school. But this time, it would have been nice to have her with me as I went into this brand new place. Of course, she had to work and could not make it.

For some reason, it took me a long time to choose my clothes that day. I put on some rock music to relax as I stood staring at the clothes in my closet. Even though I knew I would probably not even get to talk to any other kids, I still felt like I was making some sort of an impression today. Finally I settled on a pair of jeans, a fitted pink T-shirt with a little pocket on the right chest, and my pink and white tennis shoes. I didn't want to dress up so that it looked like I tried too hard, but I didn't want to look like a bum either. After applying some light makeup, I brushed my thick dark red hair. Deciding not to straighten it, I let it fall in waves down my back.

When I walked into the kitchen I found Tyler with a bowl of cereal that Mom had poured for him. I poured one for myself, as well as two glasses of orange juice – one for Tyler and one for me. Mom came rushing into the kitchen in her waitress uniform with a Pop-Tart hanging out of her mouth. She was pulling her shoulder-length blond hair into a ponytail as she looked frantically around the kitchen.

“What's wrong, Mom?” I asked.

She finished her ponytail and took the Pop-Tart out of her mouth. “I can't find my keys anywhere. Have you seen them?” she asked, picking up the papers on the table to look underneath them.

“Mom, they're in the bathroom on the counter. I just saw them in there,” Tyler told her, rolling his eyes and smiling.

“The bathroom? How did they get in there?” she asked, sprinting down the hall.

Tyler and I looked at each other and laughed. We always secretly joked about how scatterbrained Mom was these days. It seemed like she was always running late and always losing something. Sometimes I felt like Tyler was more responsible than she was, but then I would remember how different her life was now too, and I figured she should be allowed some time to get used to it. After all, Mom had never worked when Dad was still here. She was the ultimate “soccer mom,” always taking me to whatever school event I had, volunteering at PTA functions and helping out in our classrooms for holiday parties. Snacks were always ready for us after school and we never had to worry about making dinner – she was a master cook. She always made sure I had the best slumber parties, because she would make all kinds of yummy treats and buy all these supplies to do facials and nails and take us shopping or to the movies or whatever we wanted to do. It was amazing how things had changed in the course of five months. I wondered if Tyler remembered how different she used to be.

She rushed back in, Pop-Tart and keys in hand. “I have to go, guys. I'm running late. You can tell me all about school when I get home,” she said, kissing us both on the forehead.

“Mom, it's just registration. There won't be anything to tell,” I reminded her as she started to walk out the door.

She turned back and smiled quickly. “You never know. You might meet some cute boys today, Rain.”

I could feel my face get warm as I gave her a playful glare. “In this booming town? Doubt it.”

“You never know,” she repeated with a laugh. “I'll see you when I get home. It should be around five. I don't think I have to stay for the night shift tonight.”

Tyler cheered. “Yippee! Maybe we can go back-to-school shopping when you get home!”

Mom and I exchanged glances. We both knew we did not need to spend money on new school supplies. “We'll see, kiddo,” she said with a flustered look before rushing out the door.

Before he could respond, I tried to distract him. “Hey buddy, you better go brush your teeth. It's time to go!” I told him, looking at the clock. He ran down the hall to the bathroom and was back into the living room in a flash – way too quickly to have properly brushed his teeth. He had his Spiderman backpack from last year on his shoulders.

I decided to ignore the teeth-brushing issue and took the opportunity to mention his backpack. “Ty, that backpack is awesome! I don't think you'll really need it today, but I really like it. It's in such great shape, I don't think you'll even need a new one this year! That one is so cool, and none of the kids at this school will have even seen you carry it before.” I was trying to talk it up so that he would not ask Mom for another one. It was true what I said – his backpack really was in great shape. But we had
never
used the same backpack two years in a row. It was always fun to get a new one.

I don't know if my attempt worked; he didn't really acknowledge what I said. He just seemed so eager to get to school that he wasn't really concentrating on anything else. “Come on, Rain, let's go! I'm ready!” he said with a huge smile plastered on his face. He grabbed my hand and started pulling me out the door.

Luckily, both mine and Tyler's schools were close. It was only about a five-minute walk from our apartment to the elementary school, and the high school was just a couple of blocks from the elementary. Tyler practically ran the whole way there, while I was in no hurry for what was to come. I was relieved to have to go to Tyler's school first. Anything to delay going into the high school.

We went into Tyler's school and followed the signs that led us into the gym. Students and parents scattered throughout the gym where there were tables set up for each grade. We found the second grade table and got in line. It didn't take long to get up to the front, where a small older woman with curly gray hair and big glasses smiled at us. “What's your name?” she asked us in a loud voice.

“Sawyer. Tyler Sawyer,” I told her. She looked through some papers until she found Tyler's card.

“There you are, Tyler. Oh, aren't you lucky! You will have Mrs. Morris this year. Every kid loves Mrs. Morris,” she assured him with a big smile. Then she turned to me. “You're his mother?” she asked hesitantly.

“Oh, no, no, no! I'm his big sister,” I told her.

She laughed with relief. “Oh, good! I didn't think you looked old enough to be his mom, but you never know these days,” she said with a wink.

Did she realize that would make me nine years old when I had him? I was tempted to make a smart remark back to her, but thought better of it when I remembered all the young kids around me. Instead I just blinked a few times, smiled and said, “Our mother couldn't get off work today; that's why I'm here. What do I need to do?”

“Well, just fill out this emergency contact information for us, and then take this supply list for Mrs. Morris's class. He doesn't have to have all this stuff by tomorrow since it's only a half day, but Mrs. Morris would like for the students to have everything they need by Monday,” she said, handing me two sheets.

I filled out the emergency contact sheet as quickly as I could. I started to put down Mom's cell phone number on the sheet, but then remembered she had it shut off. I put down our apartment number as the first emergency contact number, and then had to think for a minute until I remembered the number of the restaurant for the second contact number. I looked over the supply list for Mrs. Morris' class. He needed three notebooks, a three-ring binder, number two pencils, a box of colored pencils, a box of tissues, and a small container of hand sanitizer. I was relieved that we had most of those things at home, which would hopefully eliminate the need to go shopping.

“If you would like to see your new classroom, there are tour guides up at the front,” the old woman was saying to me. “That would probably be a good idea so that Tyler can get acclimated to the building and his new surroundings. I believe Mrs. Morris is in her classroom right now. Maybe he would like to meet his new teacher.”

I smiled. Something else to postpone going to the high school. “Sure! I'll take him right now.” We walked to where she pointed us to go until someone approached us to take us around the school.

The tour was over way too quickly; it was a small school. That made sense in a small town, I supposed. We saw his classroom, and Tyler fell in love with his teacher right away. He even managed to make a friend – there was another boy in his classroom who was also meeting the teacher. They bonded right away over the fact that they had the same backpack. (What a relief! He would forget all about wanting a new backpack.) Before we knew it, we were back at the front door and it was time to go to the high school. Tyler almost seemed sorry to leave; he was already right at home. Why couldn't things always be as simple as they were in elementary school?

Once we got out of the building, Tyler took my hand. I think he could tell that I was anxious, even though he probably didn't understand why. We dragged our feet as slowly as we could for the two-and-a-half blocks until we came to the high school. I stared at it for a few moments from the street. It was bigger than the elementary school, but it was still definitely nowhere near as big as my old school. I couldn't decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Finally, Tyler tugged on my arm. “Come on, Rain. I'm ready to go home and play. Let's go in so we can leave.”

“Oh, all right. Let's go,” I said with a shrug as we approached the building. I paused for a moment outside to look it over again. It really was so much smaller than my old school. There was a sign that said, “Welcome to Norris County High School – Home of the Pacers.” The Pacers? What kind of mascot was that? I realized I was only critiquing it because I was nervous, so I tried to shake it off. Taking a deep breath, I smoothed my hair and walked to the front door with my head held high. Might as well
look
confident, even if I didn't feel it.

At my old school, you could go in and register and be virtually unnoticed. There were so many students in the high school and everything was so chaotic that you could go in, fill out the registration card and get your schedule before you even saw anyone you knew or recognized. This was not the case at this school. Clumps of students stood around talking near the front door. There were various groups of girls, all talking about their summers and checking out each other's new highlights or tans. Groups of guys high-fived each other and tried to be subtle while they checked out the girls. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. I guessed that was something I should get used to in a school this size.

When I walked through the door with Tyler, a few students turned to look at me, but most of them ignored me. That was fine with me. I really wasn't up for any forced conversation. I pretended to be focused on an imaginary speck of lint on Tyler's shirt as I rushed him through the groups and into the lobby where registration was being held. I could feel a few stares as we walked by the other kids, but I avoided making eye contact with any of them.

The section for registering juniors was in the far right corner of the room. I was relieved to see that there were not many people in line. Maybe I could be out of there even quicker than I had hoped. Pulling Tyler that direction, I continued pretending to be focused on him instead of everyone around me.

My wait in line was only a couple of minutes. I reached the front to see a thin bald man sitting at the table. He smiled at me as I approached him. “You must be new here!” he said in a voice that was way too high-pitched to belong to a man.

I was taken aback by that statement. How did he know I was new just by looking at me? Did I stand out that much? I looked down at myself, trying to figure out what gave it away.

He must have figured out what I was thinking because he laughed and said, “I just knew it because I know all the kids at this school. I didn't recognize you, so I figured you must be new. In fact, you must be…Rain Sawyer,” he said, after glancing down through a list he had in front of him.