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CHAPTER FOUR

“I have some bad news. I was going to wait until after breakfast but I might as well tell you now. My dad—” Ryan stops for a moment as the bus boy cleans the table next to us, banging dishes together. When he leaves, Ryan continues. “Dad went to the hospital in the middle of the night in an ambulance.”

“Why? What happened?” I swallow hard as my feet continue to anxiously tap the floor.

Before he can answer, the toddler behind me goes into total tantrum mode, stomping repeatedly on the seat of the booth and screaming even louder than before. I can’t take another second of it. It’s so much noise and I need it to be quiet right now.

I whip around and glare at the parents who don’t seem to notice the excruciating sounds coming their child. “What the hell? Can’t you make that thing be quiet? I mean, seriously? Are you not hearing this?”

They stare at me as if I’m the rudest person on the planet. I turn back around. Ryan’s red with embarrassment, trying not to make eye contact with the people behind me. Meanwhile the kid continues to scream.

“Let’s just leave. I’ll be at the car.” I get up and storm out the door, not waiting for him. I’m doing all I can not to break down into a sobbing mess. I can’t handle Frank being this sick. I can’t handle something bad happening to him. He’s my family. He and Ryan are all I have. They’re the only people in the world who care that I even exist.

I take some deep breaths and wipe away the liquid that has pooled on the inside corners of my eyes. Ryan meets me by the car and unlocks the doors.

“My freaking allergies are acting up with all these trees everywhere.” I reach down and grab a tissue from the box on the floor of the car. “God, can you believe that kid? And what the hell is wrong the parents?”

Ryan doesn’t answer. He remains quiet as we drive back to campus. I wish he’d just finish telling me about Frank and get it over with. His silence makes me worry even more.

“Do you want to go sit somewhere?” he asks when we’re back on campus.

“Yeah, but let’s stay outside.”

I feel like I might throw up the pancakes I just ate, so there’s no way I could go in my residence hall with its old, musty stench.

I lead Ryan to the open grassy area in the middle of campus. We take a seat on one of the benches under a giant oak tree. It’s a beautiful late summer morning. The humid air has been replaced by a light, almost cool breeze, as if fall has decided to make a brief appearance before summer finishes up.

“So how bad is it? Is he going to die?” I blurt it out. It’s completely selfish of me to mention Frank’s possible death like that. I know it’s the last thing Ryan wants to hear or even consider. But I hate bad news and if it’s bad news I want to be told quickly. Like a bandage being ripped off, not slowly peeled away.

“No, it’s not like that. He got dizzy and fell when he got up to use the bathroom in the night. He wasn’t using his wheelchair.”

“So why is he in the hospital?”

“It was a bad fall. He bruised his ribs and has a stress fracture in his arm.” Ryan takes a deep breath and lets it out. “The doctors said his disease is progressing faster than they expected. Plus he has some other health issues and the MS only complicates those.”

“I don’t understand. What are you trying to say? That Frank won’t be okay?”

“They’re running some tests today and tomorrow. They should know more after that. They’re keeping him in the hospital until at least tomorrow afternoon.”

I get the feeling Ryan’s only telling me part of the story. He always worries about his dad, but he seems even more worried than normal. I don’t know what to say to him. I’m terrible at comforting people. Probably because nobody ever comforted me.

He leans forward resting his forearms on his knees. “I did some thinking last night and I decided to take this semester off.”

“But, Ryan, that’ll mess up your plans for med school. You’ll have to wait another whole year to start.”

“Med school might be on hold indefinitely now. I have to take care of my dad. As you witnessed yesterday, I can’t count on those home health care people. And I can’t afford it. We have medical bills that—” He stops. “Never mind. It’s just that med school is expensive and I need to take care of my dad. I’ll finish college later. Maybe I’ll go back in the spring. I just need to take this semester off and get a job to help pay bills.”

“Have we always been in debt like this? Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve got a job and helped out.”

He sits up and lays his arm along the back of the bench. “You had a job. Going to school, getting good grades, and getting into college.”

“I mean a real job. A paying job. Sacking groceries or waitressing. Anything.”

“Enough talk about money. Let me worry about that. I want you to have a normal college experience. Have fun. Don’t even think about this. I’m sure everything will work out.”

“Not if Frank doesn’t get better,” I mumble.

Ryan gets up. “I really hate leaving you so soon, but I need to get on the road. I have to pick up Dad when he’s released tomorrow.”

“You’ll have to drive all night in order to make it there. That’s like 22 hours hours of driving.”

He laughs. “I know. I just drove it. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ll stock the car with caffeine on my way out of town. Do you need anything before I leave?”

“No, I don’t need anything. But you’ll call me later, right? Let me know how he’s doing?”

“Yeah, I will. Set up the voicemail on your room phone so I can leave a message if you’re not home.”

“I’m sure I’ll be home but I’ll get it set up.”

“I’m really sorry I can’t get you a cell phone, but I can barely pay for this one.”

“It’s okay. I don’t need one.” My eyes are pooling with liquid again, infuriating me.

Ryan waits for me to get up, then pulls me into a hug. “I’ll miss you, Jade.”

Dammit! Why did he have to say that? And what the hell’s with this hug? We never hug! I feel more tears building. My face hurts and my throat burns as I try to hold them back. Ryan starts to pull away, but I don’t let him. I have to get control of myself first. I close my eyes and think of my mom yelling at me, telling me I’m weak and how weak people never go anywhere in life. Thinking of her shuts off the tears completely and I’m finally able to let him go.

He smiles. “You annoy the hell out of me, but I’ll still miss you.”

I punch him. “Like you’re not annoying with your constant safety reminders and junk food bans?”

“You know you love me, even when I nag you about shit.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Here.” He hands me a stack of twenties. “When you need more, just call.”

“I’m not taking this!” I shove it back in his hand. “You just told me you had no money. You need that for gas to get home. I don’t need money here. Everything’s paid for.”

He takes my hand and places the money in it, forcing my fingers to close around it. “You should always have cash. What if you need to take a cab or a bus somewhere? Or maybe you’ll need it for laundry or to feed your potato chip addiction.”

My stupid eyes get watery again as I look down at the wad of cash in my hand.

“Thanks, Ryan.” Now my voice is shaky. God, I hate this. I hate people being nice and I hate saying goodbye. A tear escapes my eye and runs down my cheek. I pretend it isn’t there, but I know he sees it.

He puts his arm around my shoulder. “Hey, I know it’s tough being so far from home, but you’ll get into a routine and everything will get better. Call me whenever you want, okay? Even if it’s the middle of the night.”

We walk slowly back to the car. I want to act like that toddler at the restaurant and scream and cry at the top of my lungs, begging him not to leave me here. But I can’t, so instead I say, “Have a safe trip.”

“It won’t be as fun without my travel companion, but at least I can pick the radio station now.” He gets in the car and rolls the window down. “Go to the party tonight. It’ll be good for you. Don’t hide in your room, okay?”

“Yes. I know. Bye, Ryan.”

“Bye, Jade.” He backs out and I watch as he drives away.

I’m left feeling empty and alone and completely out of place. My chest is so tight that just the simple act of breathing is difficult. I look around at the open quad, focusing on the lush, green grass, trying to relax.

It’s only 10 in the morning. I have the whole day left in this strange place with nothing to do and no one to talk to. And even more days after that. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone to school so far from home. I can’t handle it. Maybe I am weak, just like my mother said.

I go back to my room and dump all of my garbage bags out on the floor. I find some running shorts and a t-shirt and put them on, then head back outside. There has to be a track somewhere on this campus.

I run past the buildings down a small hill and there it is, next to the gym and the tennis courts. I breathe a sigh of relief. I need to run. It’s the only thing that will make me feel better. When I run, I almost go into a trance. I listen to the rhythm of my breath and the sound of my shoes hitting the ground and together they form a pattern that’s oddly soothing.

I usually don’t like to run on a track, but today it’s exactly what I need. I like how predictable it is. Straight then curved, then straight, then curved.

As soon as I start running, I feel the calmness I was craving. I get lost in the repetition of my movement around the oval track and lose all sense of time. After a while, the sun is really hot and I realize that it’s probably way past noon. I take a break and sit at the side of the track, completely soaked in sweat.

“Have a good run?”

I turn and see Garret walking toward me in navy athletic shorts and a gray t-shirt. It looks like he’s been running, too, although he’s not nearly as sweaty as me.

“It was all right,” I say. “I don’t usually run on a track.”

“You should’ve come with me. I ran a couple miles around campus.”

I shake my head, sweat dripping off me like a wet dog. “That’s not far enough. I usually run 8 or 9 miles.”

He sits down next to me. As in right next to me. Can he not see how sweaty I am? I’m sure he can smell me from 10 feet away. I can’t even stand the smell of myself.

“Eight or 9 miles? You must be a serious runner. I’m a swimmer. I only run to improve my cardio for the pool. I do a couple miles at a normal pace and then I do sprints on the track.”

So that’s why he has that body. He’s a swimmer. That explains the broad shoulders and narrow waist V shape he’s got going on.

“Go ahead.” I point to the empty track. “It’s all yours.”

“Why don’t you do them with me?” he asks in a challenging tone. “Let’s race.”

I never turn down a challenge. Well, sometimes I do, but it’s rare. “I’m a distance runner, not a sprinter. But a distance runner can beat a swimmer any day. This should be easy.” I stand up, stretching my legs which are stiffening up after my short break.

“You think you can beat me, huh?” He stretches as well. “So what’s with the insults? You don’t like swimmers?”

I shrug. “Swimmers are okay. I just don’t think they have to work that hard. I mean, the water makes you basically weightless. It’s easy to go fast when you don’t have to drag your body weight around. You don’t get that benefit with running.”

His jaw basically drops to the ground. I’ve just insulted both him and something that’s near and dear to his heart. Apparently this has never happened to him before. Pretty boy must be used to only getting compliments.

“Are you shitting me? Did you just say swimmers don’t work hard?”

“Yeah, why?” For some reason, I’m really loving insulting this guy.

“Game on, Iowa girl. Get your ass in position.”

He sets himself up in lane one of the track. I take my sweet time walking over to lane two, yawning just for added effect.

“Do you need a head start?” I ask him, stretching my arms behind my back.

“Damn, you’re annoying.” He smiles when he says it. “We do one lap around. Ready? Three, two, one. Go!”

I take off down the lane, my eyes straight ahead, pretending he’s not there. I quickly round the first end of the track and hit the straightaway. I imagine myself running far away from this place. Running back home and seeing Frank and Ryan again. I round the next end and keep running.

“Stop! We’re done!” I hear Garret’s voice and slow down, noticing that I’m already halfway through a second time around the track. I finish the loop and meet up with him again. He’s bent over, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

“Okay, I admit it. You’re fast,” he says, panting as sweat drips off his face.

“Fast? That was my normal pace.”

He glances up at me, trying to figure out if I’m kidding. Then he stands up straight and wipes the sweat off his forehead. “Remind me never to do that again.” He walks over to the edge of the track and gets his water bottle. “You should sign up for cross country or track. You’re really fast.”

“Nah. I ran cross country in high school. Now I just run when I’m stressed.” It’s true, but I wish I hadn’t said it. It makes me sound weak and I hate sounding weak, especially around a guy.

“What are you stressed about? School?”

“No. I didn’t mean that I only run when I’m stressed. I run for all kinds of reasons. Like today I ran because it’s nice outside and I’m bored.”

“You want some?” He offers me the water bottle. I’m a little hesitant to drink out of it, assuming pretty boy has herpes or some other contagious STD. But I’m dying of thirst, so I take it from him. “If you’re bored, let’s do something. I’ll show you around and we can grab lunch somewhere.”

“I can’t. I have stuff to do. I need to unpack and make my bed.” It sounds really pathetic, but I don’t have any other excuse. I gulp the water and hand him the bottle back.

He takes a drink and a drop comes out. “You drank the whole thing! What did you do that for? I’m dying here.”

“You didn’t say how much I could have. You should really be clearer next time.”

He stares at me like he’s never come across someone like me before.

“Fine. Give it here.” I hold my hand out. “I’ll go fill it up for you.”

“Forget it. I’m heading back now anyway. I can’t do any more sprints after that.” He starts to leave the track, then turns back. “Aren’t you coming?”

What is with this guy? He won’t leave me alone. “You go ahead. I’ll stay here and stretch.”

“We’re having lunch. Come on. Let’s go.”

I find myself following him as he walks up the hill. Why am I following him? It makes absolutely no sense. And I don’t like it. I never follow. I lead. But for some reason I’m intrigued by this guy, even if he is a swimmer.