November 14, 2006
Chapter 15
(Filed under: The Novel)Anwyn remembered that the trip to the library became even more interesting after she spotted Isabelle and the boy from the bus making out. After Nick spotted Anwyn spying she ran off and Isabelle did the same, stalking away from Nick.
Anwyn showed up at the front entrance 20 minutes early, not wanting to run into Nick in some far-flung corner of the library. Isabelle showed up in exactly two hours, completely unaware that her sister had witnessed the entire scene with Nick.
"Ready to go?" Isabelle asked, full of pep and smiles. Anwyn just nodded. The two started out the door, walking side by side.
"Did you get all the info you needed?" Isabelle asked.
"Yep," Anwyn said. "How about you?" Of course she knew the answer.
"I got enough," Isabelle said. "I may need to do some more later, but this will get me started." Anwyn didn't say anything.
There was a drug store across from the bus stop and while they waited Isabelle offered to go inside and get them something to drink.
"You want anything?" Isabelle asked, as if she always bought her sister something.
"Sure," Anwyn said. Isabelle popped into the store and came out with two soda pops. She handed one to Anwyn and looked down the street to see if the bus was coming yet.
"Thanks," Anwyn said, a little baffled. It was as if Isabelle were trying assuage her guilt. Isabelle just nodded. The ride home was quiet, no incredible sister bonding, but the drink had been unexpected and odd. It always went that way back and forth with Isabelle. Sometimes she was nice and sometimes she was something else.
Sitting in her bedroom in Richmond, Kansas—which used to be her dad's bedroom when he was a child—Anwyn realized how often Isabelle had chance encounters with strange guys that turned into more than a simple conversation. But that's the way she was. She always pranced around getting the attention of guys and then flirted with them mercilessly. Isabelle never had a steady, consistent boyfriend. She just bounced around from fling to fling, date to date, guy to guy.
Oliver was probably right. One random guy from four years ago probably wouldn't know anything about Isabelle. There had probably been so many random guys—more than Anwyn had spied on and could ever know about. It was doubtful any of them knew Isabelle any better than Anwyn did.
She tried to find reassurance in this fact, but it didn't mean a lot. The question of why still nagged at her.
The rest of that week at school went by in a blur and Anwyn found herself eating cereal on Saturday morning after another early run. Her dad had just staggered out of bed and was now in the shower. Oliver would be by soon to pick up Anwyn so they could go visit Grandpa Frank and Guadalupe.
She set her milky bowl in the sink and went outside to wait on the porch. It was warmer today, much warmer than when she had gone running. It was one of those warm spring days when everyone back in St. Paul would break out their shorts and celebrate the departure of winter, even if it was only in the high 40s.
Oliver finally pulled up in his rusty pickup.
"Hola, chica," he said, leaning over and unlatching the door for her.
"Hey, Oliver," she said. The truck lumbered out of the driveway and towards the highway and the town of Truss.
It was a quiet ride, a few pleasantries and gentle ribbings exchanged, and then they drove in silence most of the way. The pickup pulled up in front of the nursing home and shuddered to a stop.
"You ever worry if this truck is going to just up and die on the side of the road?" Anwyn asked as they slammed the doors shut and walked inside.
"Every day," Oliver answered.
The nurse manning the station by the door said both Guadalupe and Grandpa Frank were still in their rooms and hadn't yet come out into the common area. She told Anwyn and Oliver they welcome to go visit. If they could manage to coax their grandparents out of their rooms that'd be even better.
"We're talking about Grandpa Frank, right?" Anwyn said.
"Oh, we know all about his stubborn tendencies," the nurse said. "But sometimes the codgy ones will listen to their granddaughters."
"I'll see what I can do," Anwyn said. Then her and Oliver went their separate ways.
Anwyn knocked on her grandfather's door and slowly pushed it open.
"C'mon in, c'mon in," Grandpa Frank called from his chair in the corner. He was wearing the same faded bathrobe and wrapped in the same blanket as last week. He set a different book aside as she walked in. "Ah, it's good to see you, girl,"
"Hi Grandpa Frank," Anwyn said, leaning over to give him a hug and kiss his sandpaper cheek. She sat down in a chair opposite him.
"So how have you been?" she asked.
"I'm fine, forget about me," Grandpa Frank said, adjusting his blanket and pulling the bathrobe a little tighter. "How have you been? Are they teaching you anything at that high school?"
"I do OK," Anwyn said. "I'm in mostly sophomore classes, so it's challenging enough."
"Good, good," Grandpa Frank said. "So they have a few years before you outgrow them and they don't know what to do with you but let you teach the classes."
"I doubt that will happen, Grandpa."
"You never know," he said, nodding his head as he thought about it. "If you're in sophomore classes as a freshman, what's going to happen when you're a senior? They'll have no choice but to graduate you early." Anwyn just smiled and looked at the floor.
"How's your dad doing?"
"He's good," Anwyn said. "Working hard as usual."
"Good, good," Grandpa Frank said. "Your father always was a hard worker. I never quite understand what he works hard at, but he seems to be good at it. He doesn't work too hard, does he?"
"No, he usually quits by 5," Anwyn said, "Just in time for dinner." Grandpa Frank smirked.
"Dinner?" he said. "You eat dinner awfully late." He smiled at her, enjoying his role as kidder.
"Supper," Anwyn corrected herself. "Just in time for supper. Sorry Grandpa, I've only been here a few weeks—my vocabulary hasn't had time to adjust."
"You'll catch up," he said. He always loved to chide Anwyn and Isabelle about the differences in language between Kansas and anywhere else. They'd ask about dinner in late afternoon and Grandpa Frank would give them the strangest look and ask if they weren't sitting at the table with him eating cold turkey sandwiches. They'd roll their eyes and sigh and plead and try to convince him that supper and dinner were interchangeable, but he refused to budge, insisting that the noon time meal was dinner. They didn't seem to have lunch in Kansas, though Anwyn argued they should add it and have four meals.
"Good—your father not working late that is—he's a hard worker but he also knows what's important. I'm afraid that was your mom's problem. She's also a hard worker—too hard, I'm afraid." Anwyn nodded. She always remembered her mom bring her work home and staying up late, papers and file folders consuming the kitchen table. If her or Isabelle tried to sit down and chat while they had a snack their mom would shoo them away, muttering about KoolAid stains on her papers.
"Mom called earlier this week." Grandpa Frank just waited for her to continue. "I haven't talked to her since before we moved. She sounded happy—talking a mile a minute about New York and her new clients at the firm and how it was going. Sounds like she's still working too hard."
"That sounds like your mother," Grandpa Frank said. "Always jabbering faster than you can listen and always working too hard. I'm worried about her. No matter how far you run away or how you try to busy yourself your problems will always find you."
Now it was Anwyn's turn to nod and wait for her grandfather to continue. It felt weird to hear her Grandpa talk about her mom like this. It was a perspective she didn't normally see, the rough patches in her mother's life.
"What your sister did was a time bomb for your family, that's for sure. Something like that is hard for everyone to recover from, no doubt. But at some point you have to deal with it. You can't just runaway. One of these days it will come back to haunt your mother, you'll see. It will probably be too late, but it will haunt her just the same."
"But what about you," Grandpa Frank said, turning now to Anwyn. "Have you been able to cope with Isabelle's suicide?"
"I guess," Anwyn shrugged. She wasn't used to talking about it so suddenly and so openly. It felt awkward, like the last time she visited and her Grandpa just blurted out his sympathies. But it also felt reassuring in a small way.
"It's OK," Grandpa Frank said, "It's rarely something you feel sure about. I reckon you'll have questions and doubts about it for much of your life."
"That's not very reassuring," Anwyn said, raising her eyebrows but still managing a smile.
"No, it's not," he said. "But it is honest." He rubbed his scruffy chin and looked up to the ceiling, suddenly lost in thought. Anwyn readjusted in the chair, pulling her feet up on to the edge of the seat and wrapping her arms around her knees. She looked back at her grandfather and he was still lost in thought, contemplating what could possibly be reassuring and honest.
Posted by kevin at November 14, 2006 8:12 PM
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