Survival Strategies of the Almost Brave (22 page)

I let the curtains go, not wanting to think those thoughts. I liked it better when they stayed in hibernation. But still, they crept out. What would happen now? Would we stay together? What if Billie wanted to stay here in Pirate Doctor's hospital forever? He seemed to maybe want a Billie girl who was shiny gold and sometimes had angel wings. What would happen to me? Who would ever want me, so serious, and plain, and non-shiny?

Billie sighed in her sleep.

I turned toward her and noticed a light shining from underneath the door. My throat was sore with what-if questions; I could barely swallow. When I pushed on it, the door slipped open, everything quiet like the inside of a clamshell.

Pirate Doctor must have been asleep. And maybe the nurse was, too; she hadn't been in for a few hours. I crept forward to the living room / lobby. And there it was: the phone. Suddenly I wanted to use it. I had to try at least one last time before I gave up hope completely. I'd call Julie.

I picked up the receiver, smooth and cold in my hand, and dialed Julie's cell phone number, and expected to hear the weird beeping, when the phone began to ring. And before I could talk myself into hanging up, I heard Julie's voice. Her voice mail for sure …

“Hello?”

I hesitated.

“Hello? Liberty, is that you?”

My voice stuck where my heart was, and for a second even my cranium couldn't compute what was happening.

Finally I said, “Julie! It's me.” Tears streamed down my face like I had a leak. I couldn't speak, except for what sounded like weird gulping noises.

Then she said, “Liberty? Is that you? I was just in the middle of listening to my messages. Are you okay?”

And then instead of crying, I laughed. And the phone slipped out of my hand because it was covered in snot and tears and sweat. And then Pirate Doctor was there, standing in the doorway. His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth turned down. He was mad.

No.

He wiped underneath his eye patch. He was sad.

And he let me talk to her until there was nothing else to say. And the heaviness fell away. And for a second I felt like I was glowing and maybe I could fly. Because Julie said she was sorry. Julie didn't know Dad had gotten bad. Julie had been in Guatemala taking care of sick kids. But she was back now.

And she would come get us.

 

Survival Strategy #49:

MAKE YOUR OWN POD

After all that glowing and floating, something happened the next day that made me fall back to the Earth's crust.

1.
He
had been found.

2.
He
was back.

3. I could go see him right now, if I wanted.

I put on a different shirt from the used hospital clothing pile. The nurse had washed my other clothes and tennis shoes, so I put on my old shorts, but my shirt was too stained to ever wear again. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. My face still felt tight and alien because of all the crying I did last night. But for once, it felt nice to be the one who could act crazy. Maybe I didn't have to be in charge all the time.

I pulled the drawstring tight around my waist and tried to focus. But there were too many thoughts in my head at once; my head felt cramped.

Last night on the phone, Julie said she had been away in the jungles of Guatemala working as a nurse and giving kids shots and stuff. It had something to do with the free clinic where she volunteered. And she didn't have electronic communication sometimes, that's why her cell phone made that weird noise when I had tried to call her.

Before she went to Guatemala, she had called Dad and left him a message on his cell phone telling him where she would be and to check in on us. But he never called her back.

She was coming to get us. She said she was five hours away. And she would leave early the next morning.

After I had talked to her, Pirate Doctor got on the phone and gave her the phone number and address of the little hospital and Officer B's phone number, and they talked about other things, but I don't know what because I fell asleep on the living room / reception area couch.

And if that wasn't enough to make my brain feel suffocated, this morning, Pirate Doctor came into our hospital room while we were eating. He said, “I have something important to say.” He paused, and his good eye got all twitchy.

“Just say it,” I said, because all I could think about was Julie smashed somewhere across the road. Without Julie, what would we do?

Finally he said, “Last night, they found your dad. He's at the police station now.”

That was not what I'd expected to hear. Dad left us at the Jiffy Co. Gas Station, and he wasn't coming back. He had disappeared like all those years before, and if he didn't want to be found, then no one would find him.

Sometimes you don't really know how you feel about something until it happens. And right there in that moment, I needed to sit down.

It wasn't fair.

He shouldn't be allowed to come back.

But he was here.

Pirate Doctor asked, “Do you want to see him?”

I shook my head. But then, what was I supposed to do?

“You don't have to,” he said.

All I could think about was what had happened three days ago, the morning Dad left us. And no matter how I tried, I couldn't keep the memory away. It was here. Loud and demanding, having a full-on Billie meltdown, forcing me to decide what Billie and me should do.

 

Survival Strategy #50:

IF YOU CAN, BE BRAVE

“You don't have to go,” Pirate Doctor said again.

I stared at him. I knew that. I knew I didn't
have
to see Dad, but—

“I don't have to go, right?” asked Billie, rubbing her hand along her cheek; you could hardly see a bruise anymore. Now it almost looked like a regular cheek. But that cheek knew what it had been through, and so did Billie.

Nurse Janice took Billie's temperature again. She smelled like Nesquik.

“No,” said Pirate Doctor. “You can just stay here with Nurse Janice and me.”

“Maybe I should go,” I said.

Nurse Janice said to Pirate Doctor, “Old Ben's in room two. I think it's bronchitis.”

Pirate Doctor nodded, but his eyes were still on us. “There's no
should
s about it. You don't have to go. Officer Buck said they have all the information they need for now.”

“I know,” I said, trying to wrestle on my shoes.

Billie came over and sat next to me on the bed. She patted my knee. She seemed a lot older than she had a few days ago. Like maybe I didn't always have to protect her, even though I wanted to. Maybe sometimes she could protect me, too.

She asked, “Are you going, Liberty?”

Everyone looked at me. Even Janice stayed for a second to hear.

“I probably should,” I said.

“I'm not,” said Billie.

She had so wanted him to be a real dad.

“It's your choice,” Pirate Doctor said. “But before you go, make sure you finish your breakfast. You don't want to go over there all empty,” said Pirate Doctor.

I stared at Billie, and back at Pirate Doctor, and even at Nurse Janice. I thought of Mom in her ocean heaven, and of the Lavender Lady and Orson, and Caterpillar Eyebrows at the shop at the hotel, and Apron Lady in the breakfast room, and Roger in his bush tunnels. And then I thought of Tattoo Guy and his lonely sister surrounded by rats. And Officer B and Carla, who had promised she would keep Billie and me together. And finally Julie, driving to get us right this minute, and how she would actually be here in a few hours, standing on the steps of this weird little hospital with Pirate Doctor inside.

All of those faces bumped around in my cranium, smiling at me, wishing me well. And instead of pushing my feelings away, I let them come. Happiness from the ends of my hair, all the way down to my toenails. I had people watching out for me, my own mixed-up pod, wanting good things for us.

I was ready to face Dad.

 

Survival Strategy #51:

FACE IT

“Right through that door,” said Officer B, pointing. “Wait, wait, I got it.” He pushed the door open for me. “I'll go in there with you, if you need me.”

“All right,” I said. So maybe police officers weren't all bad.

Officer B took off his hat—his bald head was bright and glossy. He followed me through the door.

Dad stood up from his folding chair.

He looked the same. But he had on clean clothes, and his hair was combed. And it didn't look like he had stopped eating or anything. I guess I had imagined maybe he couldn't look normal because he had left his two daughters alone at a gas station three days ago, where just about anything could've happened. People shouldn't look normal after something like that. But no, he looked regular.

Except for the handcuffs. Real steel handcuffs. Trapped. He was the prey.

I had sat in this same room with Carla and the Gray Guy about what felt like a million years ago, but it was only yesterday. And of course the table was in the same place, even though it felt like it should be somewhere different.

Officer B walked across the room and sat on the couch. He picked up a magazine and pretended to read, but his eyes peeked over.

“Is this really necessary?” Dad asked Officer B, holding up his wrists. He still seemed normal, except when I got up close, he looked really tired; his eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles underneath. Like he hadn't slept in days.

Good.

Officer B nodded. “It's for everyone's safety. I'm sorry.” But he didn't sound very sorry.

Dad sighed and sat down.

I walked over to the other folding chair across the table and sat down, too.

Dad stared at the bandage on my forehead. Then he cleared his throat. “How are you?”

This is what I wanted to say:

1. How do you think I am?

2. I hate you.

But instead I said, “Fine.”

“Good,” he said. “That's good.”

We sat for another minute. Officer B cleared his throat and turned the page of his magazine.

“What happened to your head?” he asked.

“I hit it.”

“Does it hurt?”

I nodded. Tears came to my eyes, but I pushed them away. I would not cry in front of him.

“How's Billie?”

I could feel the tectonics. All those questions. All those things never said.

“Fine.”

“Good.” Dad cleared his throat again.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Everything inside me might burst into pieces.

I stood up. I couldn't be in this room anymore, staring at his frozen face and eyes, which wouldn't even look at me. Faking it all over the place. “I'm leaving—”

Dad stood. “Wait. Just wait.”

I stopped.

“I told the police officer I wanted to see you girls. Obviously Billie isn't here, and that's my fault. So let me talk to you. Just give me a minute.” His hands shook even more. “Please.”

For a second, things felt different. He had never talked to me like that before, like I was a real person. And when he finally looked at me, I saw something unfamiliar. Was he sorry?

I sat down.

“It just got so crazy,” he began. “I mean, everything just got to be too much. You know?” He looked at me, his eyes kind of pleading. “I never thought I'd find myself in this situation. Then, there you were. I thought I could do it. After all this time, I really thought I could.…” His voice trailed off. “You get what I'm trying to say?”

He wasn't going to make me feel sorry for him. I would not be his prey. I would not fall victim to obvious pretending. “Officer B said you were sick or something?”

Dad nodded.

“You don't look sick.”

He scrunched up his face and sighed. “I know, but I am. I have these, uh, disorders, you know, inside my brain. You know what a disorder is, right?”

“Yes,” I said. I couldn't tell if he was making it up. I folded my arms across my chest and tried to pretend I was ice.

“That's why I left in the first place. I have some problems … I mean, I've known I have them. It's just, they get worse with stress. And that's why I don't like to be around a lot of people. I shouldn't be around people.”

“Then why did Julie let us go with you?”

“I convinced her I was fine. I really thought I was better. I thought I could do this. I wanted to take care of you girls, like I should have years ago. When Julie called and told me what had happened, I thought this was my chance to fix everything. I really wanted to be the dad I should have been. I was feeling healthy. I feel pretty good when I'm on my own program, with no one to answer to or interrupt me.” He cleared his throat.

I folded my arms across my chest. I have a talent. A gift, you could say, where I can actually sit in silence for a long time and feel totally normal. I mean, I can sit and not say a word, not even when someone expects me to. It's amazing how much you can learn about someone when you stop talking.

Dad cleared his throat again.

I sat.

Silence really can be your best friend, if you can stand it. Most people can't.

He continued, “I was supposed to see this therapist, but he's a joke. I travel all the time, so it's too difficult. It doesn't help. None of it does.” He ran his hands through his hair, like he might pull it out. “What I really like, more than anything, is to be left alone.”

He shrugged, now staring off into space. “Every doctor has a different opinion. They say I'm bipolar, borderline narcissistic personality disorder, depressed, anxiety, I have social phobias. I've been diagnosed with a lot of things, but they don't really know. Doctors think they're so smart, but they don't know anything. They don't know anything about me.” Now he was breathing hard, like he had been running a race.