Page 48 of Wildfire
“I’m in San Francisco right now. I’m not bluffing, Russ. Ignoring your phone isn’t going to work this time. Show up for your family. You don’t get to bow out because shit’s difficult sometimes.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or scream. I want to tell him that bowing out is exactly what he did to me when he moved across the country and left me to navigate everything alone. Ethan says I’m stubborn and closed-minded. That I don’t truly understand what it’s like to deal with an illness so corrosive and that he understands better than I do because he’s in the music industry.
He told me once that he has more memories of when things were good and that’s why he isn’t as angry as me. It’s easy to say you understand and you’re not angry when you’re on the other side of the country most of the year.
“I don’t want to talk to him, Ethan. You don’t get it. He’s so unpredictable. He can be nice as pie or he’s awful and I hate it.”
“He’s sedated. Do it for Mom, Russ. It isn’t her fault.”
“Fine,” I snap. “I’ll see you later. You’ll be there, right?”
“You’re doing the right thing. Drive safe, little brother.”
The familiar sense of dread fuels my run back to my cabin. It’s early so there’s nobody around and the kids won’t be awake yet. Xander did the night shift, so he’s in the Brown Bears cabin with Maya and I don’t want to risk going in to explain.
After a quick shower, I throw a few things into a backpack and head toward the main building. It takes five minutes for me to work up the courage to knock on the door for the overnight leader’s door. Jenna is half asleep when she pulls the door open and I’m standing there, backpack slung over my shoulder. “I’m really sorry to wake you up,” I say when I can’t find the words to explain why I’m going.
“Don’t worry about it. Is everything okay?” she says carefully.
I wipe my sweating hands against my shorts and force myself to focus. “If I tell you something, will it stay private? Because you’re my boss?”
She nods slowly, tightening her dressing gown around her waist and leaning against the doorframe. “It can stay confidential if you need it to. As long as it’s not a safeguarding issue. What’s happened, Russ?”
“My dad is in the hospital and I need to go home for a day or two. I can work back the missed shifts or something. I’m really sorry, Jenna. Is that okay?”
“Oh my God. Of course it’s okay. Are you okay to drive? Is home far for you? I’m so sorry! What’s happened?”
That’s the moment it occurs to me I was so busy arguing with Ethan that I didn’t even ask. When there’s always something, sometimes asking about specifics gets lost in my order of priorities. I’dfeel bad, but I could probably think up a handful of scenarios and be close to the real reason.
“No, my parents don’t live far from Maple Hills. But I don’t really like to talk about my family, is it okay if this just stays between us? I’d rather the team don’t know I’m going to the hospital.”
She nods and I instantly feel better.
“Can you just tell them there’s a personal emergency or something? But that I’m okay. I don’t want anyone to worry.” It’s not that I don’t want my fellow counselors not to know I’m going back to Maple Hills, but there are tons of excuses I can come up with that don’t involve my dad being the topic of conversation.
“Sure thing. I hope your dad is better soon. If you’re going to be any longer than two days, can you call me?”
“Yeah I’ll call, but I’ll definitely be back soon. Thanks, Jenna.”
MY STOMACH SINKS THE SECONDI see Maple Hills appear on the highway signs, and now that I’m taking the exit, I’m not sure it’s even still in my body.
The gas station coffee I’ve been sipping on is burned and bitter, the perfect representation of how I feel right now. I ignore the signs I normally take to campus, instead following the ones toward the hospital.
As the building comes into view, I consider that I could turn around now, turn my phone off, head back to Honey Acres, and play pretend. I want to run away from this, not have whatever conversation I’m about to have, avoid the people I work so hard not to speak to—but I don’t. I park my truck in the short-stay lot, like the action alone will manifest a quick visit and I’ll be able to head back to a life I’m actually starting to love.
I spot Mom before she notices me in the family waiting area.She looks more tired than the last time I saw her, whenever that was. Four months ago? Five? The bags under her eyes are dark and striking against her pale skin, her hair grayer, face more gaunt. She’s clinging to the coffee cup between her hands as she stares into the distance, and once again I’m wondering if I should turn around and leave.
My feet keep carrying me forward until I’m standing in front of her. No part of me on the long-ass drive here considered that I’d have to say something when I arrived, and now that I’m facing her, I don’t know how to start.
She doesn’t say anything as she stands, throwing her arms around me. With her face buried in my chest, she begins to sob.
“What happened?” I ask, keeping my voice steady.
“He’d offered to pick up some groceries for dinner and he was hit by a drunk driver,” Mom says, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.
“He was hit? Was he drunk, too?”
“No! He wasn’t!” She sounds appalled, like it’s totally unbelievable I could ever suspect he might be in the wrong. She gives me a full play-by-play and I know from where the crash happened that he was on his way home from the track. There isn’t a grocery store near that intersection. “You can go in and talk to him in a minute, the doctor shouldn’t be much longer.”
