I Grew My Boobs in China (6 page)

“I’m going to take really good care of him. You don’t need to worry about a thing, darling,” she continued, not noticing as Harrison secretly made his way across the wood floor to duck his head beneath my bent knees. He looked out from beneath my legs, his big, sad eyes prompting the most gut-wrenching sense of guilt I’d ever experienced.
But what more can I do to make this right?
It’s not permanent. Don’t make this any harder on us!
My nostrils flared as I took a shaky breath and reached down to scratch the top of his head. While I took a few more minutes to comfort Harrison, Mom did the talking.

“Oh, of course! Savannah can call me anytime.” Kathy smiled as she turned to me. “If you want to see him, we’ll arrange a date. You don’t have to worry about a thing. You can even have him come over for sleepovers. We live just up the street.” Turning back to Mom, she continued, “And I gave you my address. You know where that is, right?”

“Yes, yes. It’s really close, only a block,” Mom confirmed. With everything apparently having been said, not much remained to be done.

“Ok, so I guess we’ll be keeping in touch and seeing you soon,” Mom gestured her towards the door.

“Oh wait, I need to get a few things first,” I said, running off to my bedroom. Harrison dashed behind me as I raced upstairs to collect the few items lying around which I knew would be useless to me now. Grabbing his few coats in one hand, bundling his booties, brush, spare collars, and a leash in the other, I glanced around my room. Everything I could think of, every trace of him, was gone. I had to take a moment to regroup, but I couldn’t think too much about what was happening.

As I approached the living room to face the hardest challenge of all, I heard her telling Mom, “When you get back from your trip, just make sure you give me a call. We’ll keep in touch.” Seeing me slide in, Harrison in tow, she reached for him at the same time I leaned down to pick him off the floor. Nearly bumping heads, I hesitated with my open hands in mid-grab. I lowered them and stood up, letting her take him. I had to fight this natural instinct. Attaching my favourite leash to his collar, I reached over and kissed the top of his head, gripping his ears in my hands. Just as he had sensed my sadness before, I deeply feared that he was confused and didn’t understand a thing about what was happening. I saw the question in his big brown eyes.
I just got here. Why am I going back with this person?
He wasn’t the type who bonded with just any human – he was very selective, like me. He had been such a loyal companion. I couldn’t believe I was sending him away after missing him so much already.
How could I do this to him? How can I make him understand when I’m not sure if I understand it myself?

Holding the door open, Kathy turned back one last time to reassure me, “Call me any time and we’ll arrange a date. We’ll come by and say hello when I take him on walks.” I smiled, but I didn’t dare try to choke a word out. Harrison paused and looked over his shoulder as he walked. Unsure, he needed a tug or two to get him to follow. Shutting the door, I spun on my heels and didn’t stop running until I had collapsed on Mom’s bed, whereupon I immediately burst into yet another flood of tears. Marshalling every last bit of strength I had to keep from running after him, I buried my face into a pillow, clenching it so hard it nearly split at the seams. I just wanted to evaporate into that pillow as I stifled my cries; there was no point in upsetting everyone else.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this!
It was the only way to anchor myself to the earth.
Oh please Heavenly Father,
I begged in silence,
Please. Please. Please.
I didn’t know what I was asking for, exactly; “please” was all I could think of. Then I heard a loud voice, rough and direct.

“SAVANNAH!” Perhaps I was expecting God or some heavenly guidance, but what I got was Bree. “Do you want me to get him back? You don’t HAVE to do this.” She could hardly stand to see me in this state.    

Completely spastic by this time, I could not respond, but I felt her green eyes on me. The mere task of breathing was too much of a struggle between gasps and chokes. Unwilling to act without my approval, she became frustrated. Being somewhat claustrophobic with her own emotions, she reverted to anger, her usual way of dealing with pain.

“I’m going to go get him,” Bree decided, enraged by my evident distress. I rolled onto my back, the pillow still attached to my face.

“No, no, no,” I whispered through quivering lips. My mind spoke over my heart. I couldn’t rationalize getting him back so I couldn’t
take
him back. From the corner of my watery eyes, I could see that Mom was crying, too, but I quickly clenched them shut again. I had to reassure myself I hadn’t lost him forever, that it shouldn’t be as painful as it felt because I would see him soon. A part of me even felt stupid over the level of my grief, but I couldn’t avoid the gnawing pain.
I did the right thing. I’m going to see him soon. He’ll be back soon. I did the right thing.
I told myself over and over.

“Just tell me if you made the right decision or
not
. Did you make the right decision!!?” Bree demanded, her words ringing in my already throbbing head.

“I don’t know!” I screamed at her before once again weeping myself into a stupor. My gasping cries finally died down to nothing more than occasional whimpers before I fell into an exhausted slumber.
I should have seen in those helpless eyes that he was telling me to hold him close and protect him.
Had I known that was the last time I would
ever
see him, I’d have run out that door myself.

Chapter 6

Shots

Mom was consumed with buying backpacks and supplies, packing, having business meetings with Dad and arranging everything else that has to be done before you shut your life down. Our landlord miraculously allowed us to back out of the five-year lease agreement she’d signed only months before, when Dad moved out. Understandably amazed by Mom’s plan, he generously offered nothing but good wishes for us on our travels. Everything was falling perfectly into place, giving her even more blind-faith-driven confirmation that she was doing the right thing.

Ammon, the devil’s commander-in-chief, was busy researching the most effective vaccines for tropical diseases I’d never even heard of, applying for visas, and planning the safest, most convenient travel routes. Bree was, well, Bree! She was still spending every last waking moment with Fernando who was making his own preparations for his two-year religious mission. I, on the other hand, was working my butt off to finish a few grade eight/nine correspondence courses.

We were in the midst of getting a series of about twelve inoculations to protect us from all sorts of different viruses and illnesses – meningococcal meningitis, for example.
Like,
s
eriously, what the heck is that?!
The four of us headed downtown to the health and travel clinic for yet another vaccination. I didn’t feel like talking during the drive or when the doctor came into the room where we waited; my heart still ached over Harrison’s loss to Kathy/Cruella de Vil (who had thus far ignored every one of my calls). Comparing her records against Ammon’s
travel health log-book, the doctor brought us up to date. “Okay, so you’ve had the Japanese B encephalitis, typhoid, and hepatitis A and B. That was all of them?”

“So far, yup,” Ammon responded.

“You must be so excited about this big trip!” I looked away at this. “I’d love to get out of the office and get on the road again,” she continued with a sigh. I hadn’t ever realized how many people wanted to travel, and that awareness still amazed me.
What could be so phenomenal about running around other peoples’ countries?

“The nurse will be back in with the yellow fever and diphtheria vaccines shortly. You can pay at the front desk on your way out. I wish you guys the best of luck on your adventure.”

Bree jumped up to grab more suckers before the door closed. She ended up with one in each hand and a few more in each pocket. I’d be raiding her stash later, but right now, she needed them more than I did.

“Dip a theory? Diaper-ia? What did she say this one was?” Bree asked, her cheeks bulging like a chipmunk.

“Diphtheria,” Ammon corrected patiently.

“Seriously, that’s bizarre. What’s it for?” I asked.

“It’s---” he began but then the nurse came in to prepare our inoculations, interrupting our conversation.

Bree had, as usual, wrapped her ankles around her chair legs in anxious anticipation. Her white-knuckled fist grasped the now soggy stick of her second lollipop as she sucked even more frantically. I had actually been banking on her almost desperate fear of needles to save us from this crazy expedition, now that Ammon was apparently determined to keep on living. I was sure she would chicken out and run out of the office, sealing the deal and forcing us to stay put. But nooooo! Not this time. Where was her fear when I needed it? She was sitting there with arm extended, her pits sweating but present nonetheless. Her eyes rolled back as the white surgical gloves snapped into place around the nurse’s wrists and the wet cotton ball encased in her gloved hand swabbed Bree’s goose-bumped flesh clean.

Bree came by her fear naturally enough. Mom was an avid needle hater too, so for her to be taking this step meant my hopes were truly shattered.
This harebrained idea of hers is only going forward from here, not backwards.
I mused, finally recognizing defeat,
I’m really gonna have to find a way to survive this next year.

I was not used to being at this end of the needle. Usually it was Mom and me giving our puppies the necessary shots and inserting microchips before they left for their new homes while Bree ran to hide at the other end of the house and get beyond audible range. She’d literally go flying up the staircase with her hands suction-cupped to the side of her head. I caught myself smiling cruelly as I saw the sharp end of a tiny needle puncture Bree’s upper right arm and watched her face turn white for the fifth time. At least it made
me
feel better.

Shortly afterwards, we were all standing in the office, well, all except Bree, who’d collapsed into the nearest chair, exhausted from her ordeal.

“OK. That’s two hundred and fifty-eight dollars for the three girls, and yours will be eighty-six dollars,” the receptionist told Ammon. “The diphtheria combo is covered.”

Collecting the money from Mom, who continued to complain quietly about the price, and then putting the bills on the desk, Ammon said, “And I guess we’ll still need a few more appointments for rabies, tetanus, and the rest. As soon as possible, I’d think. We still have a few left to do and we should get the rabies started if it’s a triple series.” As the heavy, wooden door closed behind us, Ammon said almost to himself. “At least we don’t need anything for tuberculosis. But, oh right, I was explaining what diphtheria---”

Bree whipped around, cut him off and said, “A Tubular Colossus? What now?! That sounds like some huge, peanut-butter-tube shot! The kind you get in the arse,” she said, freaking herself out once again.

“No! You don’t need a shot! Tuberculosis, it’s---” Ammon began what would only have been a long, drawn-out, scientific explanation.

“AND rabies shots?! What kind of trip are you taking me on?” I demanded.

“Yah!” Bree backed me up, “I don’t want that one! I’m not taking anything involving a triple whammy!!”

“You’re going to have to. You don’t want to risk getting rabies, believe me,” Mom said.

“Well, actually,” Ammon explained in a way which only meant bad news, “those ones won’t prevent it or even save you from it. It’s not something that’s preventable with a vaccine.”

“Then there’s no freaking way I’m getting it! Why would I want to do that if I’m just going to get it anyway!?” Bree concluded, crossing her arms with a loud and final-sounding “hrmph!”

“ ’Cause it buys you more time to get to a hospital and THAT is where they’ll hopefully be able to give you an anti-rabies shot. But if you’re out in the boonies, you’re right. You’re probably doomed anyway.”

“Wonderful,” I said simply, stepping from the elevator.

Chapter 7

Packrat Rehabilitation

The walls inside the house were now stripped bare and seemingly shamed by their nudity, though our pictures hadn’t even been up long enough to leave their faded outlines behind. The halls echoed, and what had once been the most popular and heavily visited driveway in the “hood” lay naked and exposed in the sun.
It’s as though we never even lived here.

Whispers started and rumours spread as we’d condensed what was left from a seven-bedroom house, load after load, into a nine-by-twelve foot storage unit. Some considered it running away from our troubles, while others deemed it to be pure nonsense. With a heavy heart, I co-operated in giving and throwing away, selling and packing up everything I owned at the time. Only a few people we knew believed we could pull it off. I understood how hard it was for family and friends to understand how we could just drop everything and give up our secure, relatively luxurious life for the unpredictable road ahead, challenging the world and backpacking through places most considered dangerous! I had never thought about China that way, but then, all I really knew about China was that I was supposed to get there through my backyard, something that had never held any particular appeal. I found myself learning all sorts of new things from my helpful peers and relatives, mainly how “smelly,” “dirty,” and “uncouth” the country was. “They will kidnap you for your hair,” and “Just don’t let them see your retainer; braces are a sign of wealth,” and other stuff like that. But now the last of our remains were being consolidated into green Rubbermaid buckets, and we’d soon be closing the door behind us forever.