AN: Few messages before the start of the chapter. As some of you might know, I started a livejournal community for JD/Elliot fiction. We're looking for more readers and writers to post their fics there too. If you're interested, the link is on my profile page. There are a quite a few fics on there that aren't posted on here, as well. Looking forward to seeing you there.
Secondly. This chapter - I'm nervous about it. I'd just like to make clear that I'm writing for fun. Also, my medical knowledge is basically next to none. I will respond to any comments you might have later. Thanks.
With no further comment, I walk into my grandparents' living room, which is surprisingly busy. There's Grandma, Uncle Barry, Uncle Bradley, Uncle Billy and…
Oh, my god, is that my dad?
"Alyssa?" Yep, that is my dad and the bastard is smiling at me.
"Dad," I snarl. I'm not being nice. Why should I be?
Just then, my aunt Elliot also walks into the room. "Brian," she dryly says. "I thought you were out of the country."
"Yeah, isn't that why you dumped me on Aunt Elliot's doorstep?"
My dad is still smiling. "Yes, I have been out of the country," he replies. Although not replying to the comment about me being dumped on a doorstep, I see. "I'm just back for Christmas."
"How convenient," Elliot growls. She's not his biggest fan either, unsurprisingly.
I'm digging my own fingernails so far into my hand I think I'm actually drawing blood. Funny how just this morning I was saying that my dad could rot in hell for all I cared, and now that my dad is standing there in front of me, I might actually want him to rot in hell more than I already did. Is that wrong?
"Uh, why don't you two put your cases in your rooms?" My Granddad says, clearly trying to act as a distraction. "It seems like you two have had a long day."
I send another glare in my father before leaving the living room. Quietly, I follow my grandfather through the house, up to where the spare rooms are.
"Take your pick of the rooms," my grandfather says, before walking away.
Once my grandfather is out of earshot, my aunt speaks to me. "Alyssa, I'm so sorry. I had no idea your dad was going to be here."
"It's okay. But that the hell is he doing here?" I ask, not really expecting a response. "And where's my mom?"
There are four days left before Christmas. Kelso did have a point: the hospital is crazy. Mostly just some broken bones, sprained ankles, a few cases of the flu. Just the general winter stuff. But nevertheless, I have been run off my feet, as has everybody in this hospital. It's a madhouse. I haven't even had a chance to call Elliot and see how it's going in Connecticut.
I'm walking along the ward corridor when Turk approaches me. "Dude," he suddenly says. "What time does your shift end?"
"Six-thirty," I respond. "Why?"
"Okay," Turk says. "After your shift, meet me at the mall."
"Why?" I repeat.
"Just do it." Turk walks away.
O…kay…
I did not sleep well last night, even though I was shattered. Travelling is tiring. But, as it turns out, being angry about the fact that your dad, who you pretty much hate, is here makes it quite difficult to sleep. Probably didn't help that I spent all night thinking of ways I could kill him. If you couldn't already tell, I'm extremely angry. And thinking happy thoughts just isn't cutting it.
My extreme anger is why I didn't go down for breakfast when I was called. Every time someone shouted on me, I said I'd be down in a couple of minutes. When I was shouted on again, I'd say I'd be another couple of minutes. You get the idea. Well, it's been an hour since the start of breakfast. I should probably go down now…
To be honest, I don't plan on spending a lot of time with my family, at least not today. I text a couple of my old school friends to say I was in Connecticut for the week and they invited me to the mall to catch up. That is, of course, providing my grandparents don't have some big plan that involves everybody.
I walk into the breakfast room (yes, that's right, my grandparents have what they call the breakfast room. You only eat breakfast in it. Not lunch, not dinner, just breakfast. I know, they're weird) and everyone is sitting around the table. The breakfast is like something you'd get served in a hotel. The layout of it, I mean. There's toast in the toast holder things. Cereal in those big bowls, a nice tablecloth on the table. Of course, this will not have been set out by any of my family. My grandparents still have a maid…
"Morning," I cheerily say (even though I don't actually feel that cheery) as I walk into the aforementioned breakfast room.
"Morning, Alyssa," my grandfather replies. "Are you feeling okay?"
Sceptical/Confused face. "I'm feeling fine," I answer, sounding every so slightly confuzzled. "Why?"
"Your aunt just mentioned that she isn't feeling well. Thinks it might have been plane food."
I glance to my aunt, who wears a facial expression as if to say 'just go with it'.
"Um… yeah, I'm feeling fine. But then again, I didn't eat any of the plane food."
"You didn't eat anything for over six hours?" My uncle Barry asks sceptically. Yeah, he might have clicked that there's a whole lotta lies going on here.
"Yeah. I had a big lunch at the airport, so I wasn't hungry."
"Right," Uncle Barry says in the same tone he used a few seconds ago.
This is going to be a fun, fun week. Please note the use of sarcasm. And now, for the all-important question: "Aunt Elliot, is it cool if I meet up with some of my old school friends? You know, if there's nothing else planned. They invited me down to the mall."
"Yeah, sure," my aunt cheerfully replies. "There's nothing else planned anyway."
"Thanks."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a slightly bewildered look on my dad's face. "Uh… shouldn't you be asking me if you can go out with your friends?"
"Well," my aunt snaps, before I even have a chance to apologise. I know I shouldn't, but he's my dad and it's like a reflex reaction. "Since you left her on my door step five months ago and have made next to no contact, I'm gonna say no."
That shut him up. But I don't know what to say either, so I sit down and quietly eat my toast.
---
My shift now over, I've headed down to the mall to meet Turk, still completely oblivious as to the reason. And I'm also oblivious as to where Turk is.
"Hey, Vanilla Bear," a voice comes from behind me.
Narrow eyes. "Where did you come from?" I shriek.
Turk raises a puzzled eyebrow. "Well, originally…"
"Yeah, yeah. Shut up before you give me your life story," I interrupt Turk. "Why are we here?"
"If Carla asks, we're getting things for the New Year's Eve party she's planning."
"Why are we really here?"
"Because I forgot to get Carla a Christmas present."
"How the hell did you do that?"
"I was just so busy at the hospital that I didn't realise it was so close to Christmas. And the last time I was so busy, I ended up giving Carla a pen from the Ass Box."
I laugh. "That was funny. She's gonna kill you, you know?"
"Not if I get her something really really good," Turk stubbornly replies. "Which is why you're here to help me!"
This won't go wrong….
----
It was really weird meeting with my old school friends. They haven't changed a bit. There was Phoebe, who still spent nearly an hour in a bookstore like she used to. Then there was Robin, who was having another boyfriend drama, as she always seemed to be having. And lastly there was Alice, who was cracking jokes at every little thing as she always did. None of them had changed a bit. But here's the funny thing: I didn't feel like I fit in with them any more. Those girls used to be my best friends, but I didn't feel like I fitted in with the group any more. It's not that they've changed. It's that I have. I know in five months away, that's bound to happen; I just didn't expect to have drifted from the group so much.
I did manage to spend nearly all day with my old friends though, so that was good. Five-thirty it is now, and I need to go back for family dinner. Oh joy.
The house is quiet as I open the door. Not just quiet, deathly silent. Normally there's an incomprehensible buzz of chatter or music or something. It's really quite eerie. Me no likey. I can actually hear my own footsteps as I walk along the hall. Of course, that could be because I'm wearing kitten heels and I'm walking along wooden flooring, but it's creepy nevertheless.
I turn in to the living room. Chances are if everyone has gone out, somebody will have left a note to say where they are. Aunt Elliot might have tried calling me, but my cell receptions was playing funny buggers in the mall. Glancing up at the mantelpiece, I don't see a note to say where everyone is like I was looking for, but instead that my dad is there, staring right at me.
"Where is everyone?" I ask coldly, not wanting to get into anything resembling small talk. To be honest, I'm not even looking at him when I ask the question.
"They're all outside," my dad responds in a tone that he wouldn't have normally used even when I was living with my parents. It's too friendly. Before I was left at my aunt's, any time I would ask a question or even say anything, he would respond in a more formal, authoritative tone. More like a principal speaking to a student than a father speaking to a daughter. "They're trying to get a barbecue sorted."
"A barbecue?" I incredulously blurt. "It's December!"
"I know, but your Uncle Bradley and Uncle Barry insisted. Your Aunt Elliot didn't seem so keen though."
Once silence descends on the room, I rotate myself and begin to make my escape out of the living room to the garden where some of my crazy nutjob family are trying to have a barbecue. In December. Seriously.
"You've gotten taller since the last time I saw you."
I stop immediately in my tracks, my get away interrupted. "That might have something to do with the fact you haven't seen me in over five months." I could have said something about how he looks thinner and paler than I remember him being, but that would be making small talk, and I have been determined not to do that since I arrived here.
"How are you doing at school?"
"Fine," I state simply. "I recently organised a charity disco, and I applied for pre-med."
"That's good," my dad smiles. "Do you have good friends?"
"Yeah, they're great."
"So, do you have a boyfriend?"
I hate these kinds of questions. "Yeah, I do. His name's Michael."
"Is he good to you?"
"Yeah, he is."
My dad is smiling. Weirdly. After a few seconds of silence, he speaks again. "You're really growing up fast, aren't you?"
Considering I have no idea how to react to that, the silence falls upon the room yet again. But this time, it's my turn to break it. Apparently.
"I'm gonna go outside," I quietly say.
"Okay, honey."
----
Turk managed to get something for Carla's Christmas. And he managed get some things for their New Year party. Although when I say party…
"It's just going be a few friends over for something to eat and seeing in the New Year," Carla explains casually, as she sorts some charts.
"Doesn't sound like much of a party," I mutter, more to myself than anything else.
"Trust me, in a year or two, you'll be calling that a kick-ass party," Carla knowingly says. "So will you guys be coming or not?"
"Yeah, probably."
"Thank you," Carla says, before walking away into a patients' room.
"Dude," Turks says. I didn't realise he was standing behind me. "You didn't say anything about my present for her, did you?"
"No," I respond. "Why would I do that?"
"I was just checking. You're off tomorrow night, right?" Turk asks.
"Yeah."
"Wanna go to bar after work? It's been ages since we hung out like we used to."
"Hells to the yeah!" I reply. "What time? Eight?"
"Hells yeah. See you there?"
"Yep."
That should be fun.
----
Two days down. Five more to go. And one of them is the travelling back day, so really it's only four more days being spent with my family. Woop woop.
I just had to go back to my room to put my cell phone on charge. It was dying on me. Frown. But it did buy me a few minutes away from the breakfast table. Every cloud has a silver lining and all that.
There is the flip side of that phrase, however. Every sliver lining has a cloud. And the cloud to my silver lining is that I have to return to the table. Damn.
One of the doors along the hall is slightly ajar, and I can hear the faint mumble of voices that grows louder as I approach the door. Well, this is a good opportunity to eavesdrop if I ever did see one. Come on, if you had a family as dysfunctional as mine, you'd do the same. I quickly recognise the voices as belonging to my dad and my granddad.
"You have to tell her. And soon," my granddad mutedly says.
My dad responds with an angst filled "I know. I just don't how to."
My prying is then disturbed by the startling noise of another door opening, which causes me to jump in fright.
Once I regain my startled composure, I notice my Uncle Barry looking at me perplexedly.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Nothing," I quickly respond. "Certainly not listening in to a private conversation."
"Come on, you need to have breakfast before we all go to Mass."
"We're going to Mass?" I ask with annoyance. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," Uncle Barry replies with a similar tone to my own. "Your Granddad is insisting we all go."
"Dear God…" Then I realise the irony. "Whatever."
I follow my uncle into the breakfast room, where everyone - minus my father and grandfather who I assume are still having their weird conversation, and my grandmother who is god knows where – is sitting around the table. Since I'm last in the room, I ask everybody if they would like their coffees topped up. Most agree, except for an obvious person.
"None for me, thanks," my aunt Elliot replies.
Uncle Barry pulls a face. "Since when did you turn down a cup of coffee?"
Clearly trying to act nonchalant (or maybe it's just more obvious when you know someone's lying), my aunt shrugs. "I just don't feel like it this morning."
"Or yesterday morning, apparently," Barry adds with a little hint of curiosity.
The random chatter about nothing in particular continues for a few minutes more before my grandparents and my father walk back into the room.
"So are we ready to go?" My grandfather asks everybody.
We all respond with enthusiasm in one way or another, but really nobody particularly wants to go.
Suddenly, my grandmother scoffs.
"What?" Almost everyone simultaneously says.
My grandmother looks my aunt Elliot up and down with a look of disgust. "Oh honey, what are you wearing?"
Aunt Elliot rolls her eyes. "Um… I'm wearing jeans and a sweater."
"I can see that," my grandma sarcastically replies. "But the sweater? You'll never keep a guy wearing something like that. It's so baggy. So unflattering."
Just at the end of that exchange, I glance at my uncle Barry, who has a very weird expression on his face. Then it suddenly changes to one of realisation.
"Uh-oh spaghetti-oh," I quietly mutter.
"No way," he says.
That statement is answered by a very evil glare from my aunt, which luckily, nobody else seemed to notice. "Look, it's cold outside and the sweater keeps me warm, okay?" Aunt Elliot snappily says.
"Uh… so are we all ready to go?" My grandfather repeats, trying to change the whole conversation.
Everyone makes their way out of the room, while my uncle Barry continues to shake his head.
Mass was, well, awkward to be honest. Aside from Father O'Neil talking to me like I was still that six-year-old in Sunday School, my uncle Barry kept giggling which meant my aunt Elliot kept elbowing him… which then made me laugh because she was basically beating him up in church.
We're all back at my grandparents' house now. More specifically, I'm in the kitchen helping my aunt Elliot to prepare lunch. But it isn't long before someone else walks into the room.
"So Mom and Dad sent me through to make everyone coffee," uncle Barry says. "But I'm guessing you won't want any, what with you being pregnant and all."
Quick as all hell, aunt Elliot spins around to face Barry, with a look of absolute venom on her face. "I swear to god, Barry, if you tell Mom or Dad or anybody else, I will end you!"
No joke about it, uncle Barry actually looks scared. "Okay, relax, I won't say anything." After a pause my uncle Barry then says: "So who's the daddy, so I can go kick his ass." And he's being serious.
"Hey!" Elliot snaps back.
"What? You really expect me not to kill the guy who knocked up my baby sister?"
"There will be no killing of anybody," snarls my aunt. "Look, he's a guy from work. I've known him for nearly eight years, we've been together for nearly five months."
Barry raises an eyebrow. "And how many months pregnant are you?"
"Um… almost three."
"Yeah… that sounds responsible," uncle Barry says, but I think he's joking slightly.
My aunt Elliot rolls her eyes. "Shut up. Just… please don't tell Mom and Dad, okay? I'm gonna tell them at some point this week, I am. Just when the time's right. Like… three minutes before I leave to go home."
Uncle Barry shakes his head, pulling a disapproving face. "I think three minutes before you leave is still too early. They would still have a chance to tear you a new one. No, I think you should tell them three minutes before you board the plane. That way, you can tell them you're pregnant, hang up, turn off your cell, fly six hours and speak to them again after they've had a few hours to cool off."
"You know, that plan's not half bad," I chime in.
Aunt Elliot frowns. "They're going to kill me aren't they?"
"No they won't," Barry reassuringly says. "They might be pretty pissed at first, but they're not going to kill you. Give them a bit of time to cool off and by the time your kid is born they'll have completely forgotten that they were even pissed."
"Thanks," Elliot quietly responds.
"And if they've got any sense they'll realise that you seem happier than anyone's seen you in a long time. Maybe even ever."
My aunt Elliot laughs just slightly, then says, " I am."
"Then I'm happy for you, sis." Uncle Barry walks over and hugs Aunt Elliot.
"Awww, cute," I mutter. "Although, Uncle Barry, I have to ask, how did figure that out so quickly? That was impressive."
Uncle Barry raises an eyebrow. "Dude, I'm an obstetrician."
I knew that. "That is very true," I pensively say, thinking of my own stupidity.
A second later, my grandfather walks into the kitchen. "What are y'all talking about?"
"Nothing," all of us who were previously in the kitchen say.
"All right," my grandfather responds, although I'm not completely sure he believes us. "I was just checking up on the lunch and tea."
"They'll be ready in a few minutes," uncle Barry replies, which my granddad to leave the room.
Three days down; four more to go. Yes, I am going to keep doing that until I'm out of here. It's my mental countdown.
Having spent the best part of today visiting relatives who I haven't seen for years (to be perfectly honest, I thought my great-grandmother was already dead, but never mind) we're now back at my grandparents house eating dinner, once again. Dinner or meal times in general are quite strange when the whole family is together, there's no talking about anything in particular. Mostly medical talk, one of the disadvantages of being in a room with six doctors. It's quite annoying for the two of us in the room who are not doctors.
Once the talk about a surgery or a guy or something else I wasn't really listening to has died down, my granddad turns his head towards my aunt Elliot. "So, Elliot, where's John?"
"Oh, the chief would only let one of us have the time off. He's working."
My grandmother raises a sadistic eyebrow. Uh-oh… "Really, honey? Are you sure you didn't just scare him away?"
Aunt Elliot rolls her eyes with annoyance. "No, Mom, he couldn't get the time off work or else he'd be here."
Shaking her head, my grandmother continues her onslaught. "You should be careful. With you gone, he'll be out at some club with some other girl."
"Mom." My uncle Barry says. It's loud enough that everybody in the room heard it, but not loud enough that it acts as a real warning to my grandmother.
"Come on, she never could keep a guy," My grandmother continues. Oh she's so sadistic. And evil. Thank goodness I don't see her much any more. "And with the dress sense she's been donning of late, she has no chance."
"Mom!" Uncle Barry's voice is louder this time, and it really startles every one in the room. "Knock it off, for the love of god!"
There are, really, only two words I can use here: Holy crap! That was awesome. And it has given my grandmother one hell of a deer-in-headlights look.
"Sorry," Grandma sheepishly says, although I'm not convinced she really meant it because, well, she never does.
Anyone looking at my aunt Elliot right now would know that she is pissed. In fact, she's about three miles past pissed. She's just plain angry. I would not be surprised if she just got up and left right now. I would if I were her.
"So, speaking of missing spouses," aunt Elliot bitterly says. Clearly she's taking a different approach than I would. "Brian, where's your wife?"
"That's a good question. Where is Mom?"
Suddenly there's a tense atmosphere in the room. My dad and my grandfather exchange serious glances, while the rest of us look at each other with confusion.
"She, uh… she's gone to Guatemala with Doctors Without Borders. She left two weeks ago."
"I thought you and Mom had been out of the country this whole time."
My dad solemnly shakes his head. "No. In fact, we weren't out of the country at all."
"Then… where were you?"
"We were in Florida."
"Why were you in Florida?" I ask coolly, although the wheels in my head really are working overtime. "And why didn't you go to Guatemala with Mom?"
Dad just looks me in the eye. "We got divorced."
It's Aunt Elliot who asks the question I honestly can't ask myself. "You and Emily got divorced?"
"Yeah. Two months ago."
"Why?"
"It was just… for the best."
"For the best. What the hell?" I angrily say. "Okay," I continue, trying to be calmer than I was a second ago. "Let me get this straight. You and Mom left me at Aunt Elliot's hospital, because you were leaving the country, but apparently you weren't out of the country at all. You were in Florida, for reasons I'm not particularly sure on. And you and Mom took me to Mass and Sunday School every week since I can remember and you wanna know one of the things I learned there. Apparently, divorce is a sin. Yeah, I remember when I was eleven and I came home and told you and Mom that Sarah Stevens' parents were getting divorced. I think your exact words were 'That means her parents are going to hell'. And now, five-ish years later, you tell me that you and Mom got divorced. So I'm guessing that makes you a hypocrite. But then again, I'm neither shocked nor surprised. Just confused. And what's confusing me more than anything is why you and Mom were in Florida when you basically abandoned me. Why did you tell me – and aunt Elliot for that matter – that you were out of the country? And this reason better be good or I'm going to be really pissed off."
My dad is silent. Funny that.
"Brian," Granddad says. "You have to tell her. Now."
I raise an eyebrow. "Tell me what?"
Sighing, my dad says, "Alyssa, there's something that I haven't told you."
"Something?" I sarcastically ask. "Or a lot of things?"
"Do you remember when you were four and you stayed with Grandma and Granddad?"
"Yeah," I snap. "What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"Well, your Mom and I told you it was because we were going to Mexico for a while. We weren't in Mexico. We were… in Florida. The truth is, when you were four years old, I was diagnosed with a brain tumour."
"You… what?"
"At the time it was operated on. I underwent chemo and radiation therapy, and a few months later I was given the all clear. But, unfortunately, a few months ago, around about the time that you went to live with your aunt Elliot, I was rediagnosed. I had another tumour. Your mother and I decided that it would be best for you if you didn't know about this. Especially when we weren't all that close and you didn't know the first time. And it wouldn't matter if you knew when I was given the all clear again."
"So… why are you telling me now?" I don't think I want to hear the answer to this.
My dad frowns. And I'm looking down at the ground. "Because now there's nothing more that can be done. The tumour is not reacting to any treatments, and it is inoperable."
"Um… how… how long…"
"Six months," my dad quietly answers. "That's if I'm lucky."
"Okay…. I…. Um… I just… need to not be here…"
As long as it feels since I hung out with Turk, it feels just as long since I even hung out at the bar. Not that the place has changed, mind you, it's still the same old bar with same old drunk people with the same old damn good appletinis.
"Dude," some random guy standing next to me says. "Why don't you drink beer?"
"I'm allergic to barely, thank you for asking," I pleasantly respond.
Once the guy is out of earshot, Turk speaks. "Still going with the barely allergy thing then?"
"'Till the day I die."
"Cheers," Turk says, lifting his beer glass slightly, which I clunk my appletini glass against.
"I've missed this, dude," I say a few seconds later. "The two of us hanging out like we used to."
"Me too," Turk replies, sighing. "It just seems like nowadays there's just so much going on nowadays. I've got Carla and Izzy. You've got Elliot and in a few months you'll have your kid too. Not to mention the fact that you and Elliot have become the main carers to a sixteen-year old."
I sigh. "Ever feel like life is moving at such a fast pace you just can't keep up?"
"All the freaking time," Turk responds in a similar tone. "This morning Carla and I were talking about getting Izzy christened. Just seems like yesterday we brought her home from the hospital. And she's beginning to walk."
"My Mocha Cub's starting to walk? That's awesome!"
"Yeah, it is," Turk smiles. "You know, we're gonna have to think of a name for your kid."
"Vanilla Cub?"
Turk shakes his head. "Not original enough."
"You know, maybe we should wait until after Elliot and I have named the baby before you and I give them a nickname. Maybe there'll be something there to work with."
"That is true," Turk says. "Have you and Elliot even spoken about names yet?"
"Not in the slightest," I reply. "Can I be honest with you, Turk? I am completely, one hundred percent, never-been-more-scared-of-anything-in-my-life terrified of having this baby. But … at the same time… I can't wait. It's like… this was always supposed for Elliot and me. Like we were always gonna end up together, it just took us a while to get there."
"It's true," Turk says. "You and Elliot have grown up a lot, even just in the last few months. Carla and I have hardly seen you. But… I've really missed hanging out with you."
"Me too. How about we make a pact that at least once a month we hang out like we used to?"
"Sounds good," Turk hesitantly says. "But what happens if I'm too busy with surgery or you're too busy with Elliot and a newborn?"
"Dude, it's once a month. We have to do that for the sake of our friendship. And, if we need a way to sell the idea Carla and Elliot, we'll just tell them that it's their chance to hang out and do all that girly stuff they do."
"Alright, you're on!" Turk says. Then he contorts his face slightly. "Dude, I think your cell is ringing."
It is. "Elliot," I quietly mutter, reading the caller ID. "Hello? Elliot, are you okay? What's wrong?"
The conversation doesn't last long. Elliot, in her own distressed way, tells me what has happened before saying she needs to go. "Call me when you know something more, okay?"
"Dude, what's happened?" Turk asks, with concern. "Elliot sounded really frazzled, from what I could hear."
"Alyssa's gone missing."
I ran away.
After… you know what… I ran away. It's one of the few times I've ever cared that my grandparents owned and orchard. It's a good place to hide out when you don't want to talk to any one. God only knows how long I've been out here for. But it was really light at first and now it's starting to get dark. Which, I guess means maybe I should go back. Not going to happen though.
A few minutes later, I hear footsteps approaching from behind me. I don't know who it is.
"I don't want to talk."
The footsteps stop. "That's okay." The voice is that of my uncle Barry. He sits down next to me. "I'll just sit here with you. You know, this is where I used to sit when I was angry about something, I'd just sneak out of the house and come and sit out here. Nobody would ever find me. Either that or they just wouldn't come looking. Whatever. And then, by the time it started to get dark, I'd maybe think about going in. But I normally didn't, because if I stayed out here, I could get some peace and quiet and then I'd feel better."
"I don't think sitting out here for a while is really going to make me feel any better. Really. It just buys me some time away from my dad 'cause I really don't want to talk to him. Or about him."
"That's fine," Uncle Barry says. "You wanna know who's really worried about you? Your Aunt Elliot. Yeah. Before I left she kept calling your cell, even though it was still upstairs in your room. And she's been calling your friends to see if you'd contacted them."
"Yeah, she asked me to give her Kate and Michael's numbers in case of an emergency," I quietly respond. "But wait, how would I have been able to contact my friends if my cell phone was upstairs in my room?"
"Yeah, I didn't tell her your cell was upstairs. She was stressed out and everyone knows you never stress out an already stressed out pregnant woman. That's why I gave your uncle Bradley a note to give to her. Let him deal with her wrath."
I laugh. "You realise that will result in you getting your ass kicked, right?"
"By Bradley? Please, I could whoop his ass any day."
"That would be hilarious to watch. I'd actually pay to watch that."
"The going rate is twenty bucks," Barry jokes. "So, Aunt Elliot's pregnant, huh?"
"Yeah."
"I know I said I wouldn't beat theu guy up, but you've got to give me some info."
"Fine."
"Is he a huge jackass?"
"No, he's really not. He'd do anything for aunt Elliot, he really would. And they'd already known each other for years before they got together."
"That's good. So I really won't have to kick his ass?"
"You really won't."
"Okay, then."
It's quiet for a couple of minutes before my Uncle Barry speaks again. "So do you want to talk about… this thing with your dad?"
"What the hell am I really supposed to say… about it? Really?" I quietly ask rhetorically. "I mean… now, am I not supposed to angry that he's basically ignored me for years? Am I now supposed to be the doting daughter because my dad is… dying?"
"Look, I'll be perfectly honest without. Just because you know what you know now, it doesn't make anything else he did to you any better. Or any more forgivable. Nobody would blame you if you didn't forgive him and if you just wanted to leave things how they are just now, with you staying with Aunt Elliot in California and not having a lot, if anything, to do with him."
Another minute or so of silence passes. "The one thing I want to know though is why. Why did he think that leaving me with Aunt Elliot was the right thing to do? Why wasn't he honest and tell me from the start what was going on?"
"I just want to say now, before I tell you what I know, that I don't condone anything that he did," uncle Barry quietly says. "But after you first ran, your dad received what cannot be called anything other than an interrogation. According to him, the reason he and your mom didn't tell you was because you were too young. They didn't want you to deal with something you didn't understand. You were only four. And, when the cancer returned, he thought it would be best for you if you went to live with your aunt Elliot. He knew that you and your mom quite honestly hated each other, and that you and Elliot were pretty close. He, for some twisted reason, thought it would be easier on you if just hated him rather than finding out the truth."
"That… that doesn't make any sense."
"I know, kid."
"And… why, after the first time he got sick, make sure that we were all closer and it didn't get to the stage we're at now, where he abandoned me for five months without telling me why, barely getting in contact and me getting to the stage where I hate him and feel guilty as all hell for saying that."
"I really don't know," Barry sighs.
It's quiet again. There isn't anything I can think to say.
Uncle Barry speaks. "So how's school?"
"It's good." That conversation continues like that. A few minutes of just small talk
and random conversation. It's good, not to think about what's going on, just for a little while. Unfortunately, the conversation dies down.
"Do you want to go back inside? Let everyone know that you're okay?"
I shake my head. "Another few minutes, please?"
"Sure. Whenever you're ready."
It another half-hour, maybe, before I go back inside. The reason I actually go in being that it's now pitch black outside, and I was freezing being outside in December with a thin sweater on that barely keeps me warm at night in California.
But just because I'm inside, doesn't mean I want to talk to anyone, which is precisely why I'm in my room alone, and not downstairs where everyone else is.
There's a knock at my door. "Alyssa, honey, it's me. It's Aunt Elliot. Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
I hear the door opening, but I don't look up.
"Aly, sweetie, I just wanted to say that we don't have to stay here, if you don't want. We can go back to California early or we can go stay somewhere else if you'd like."
"Really?"
"Yeah, if you want to. It's up to you."
"I want to go home."
"Okay. I'll go and make some calls."
I have kept my cell phone near me at all times since Elliot called earlier. I'm really worried about Alyssa. I hope she's okay; it doesn't make sense for her just to run off. Elliot must be going out of her mind. She sounded so frazzled when I spoke to her earlier. That was about two hours ago.
Turk texted me twenty minutes ago to see if there was any update. I had to reply that were was none. He responded with 'She'll show up soon. It'll be okay. Alyssa's a sensible kid; she'll show up soon, man. Try not to worry yet." I could say that I wasn't worrying, not yet anyway, but the way I'm tapping my fingers on the counter top would contradict that.
Than my phone rings, and I answer it more quickly than I think I ever have before. "Hello?"
"JD, it's me." Elliot's voice is calmer than it was when I spoke to her earlier. I'll take that as a good sign.
"Hey. Have you found Alyssa? Is she okay?"
"Yeah, she's… she's as okay as can be expected. Listen I need you to pick us up from the airport tomorrow morning, at 2AM."
"Tomorrow is Christmas eve…you're coming home early? What's happened out there?"
"I'll explain everything when we're home. Can you pick us up, please?"
"Yeah, I'll be there. Just… is everything okay?"
"I'll explain at home, okay?"
"Okay. I love you."
"I love you too."
The call clicks off.
Since before I cam here this week, I was so looking forward to leaving. I thought I'd feel relieved when I left, feel like I should be getting one of those 'I survived' t-shirts. But it feels nothing like that. I just want to be out of here.
I'm standing at the front door, just waiting to leave. I said goodbye to everyone (minus my dad. Did you really think I'd speak to him?) in the living room, but my granddad has come to the door.
"So, I'll call in a couple of days," Aunt Elliot says to my granddad. "Talk about… everything."
"Yeah," Granddad quietly replies. "Well, have a safe flight."
My granddad then hugs me, but when he does it's like he's apologising, which, to be honest, is not helpful.
I'm just about to step out of the door when I hear… you-know-who's voice from behind me. "Alyssa, I know you're not going to talk to me, but just listen. I bought in apartment out in California, near where Aunt Elliot lives. I'll be moving out there next week. I'm hoping that when I go out there, I'll get to see you and hopefully make up for some of the time I lost and for some of the things I've done. But I would understand if you didn't. I've written the address and phone number on this piece of paper. Just in case you want it later."
I think he might be holding the piece of paper out, but I'm looking down at the ground so I can't be sure.
"Lys, do you want me to take the paper?" Aunt Elliot quietly says.
After I few seconds, I nod just slightly.
"I hope you'll get in touch," my dad says once Aunt Elliot has taken the piece of paper.
"I wouldn't hold your breath," Aunt Elliot snarls.
After that, I walk out of the front door, not bothering to even give my dad one last look.
You'd think I'd be happy that Elliot's coming back from her parents' early, but really I'm not. It's not that I don't want to see her, of course I do, but something is obviously wrong. That's what is worrying me. And what's worrying me more is I don't know what is going on. I'm really concerned about Alyssa. Something serious must've caused her to disappear for that time, because she's not the type of girl to run away for no reason. I hope everything is okay, but it's obviously not.
Unsurprisingly given that it's 2AM, the airport is practically dead. That fact makes it so easy to spot Elliot and Alyssa when they walk through to the main hallway. I'm not kidding, my heart sinks when I see them both. They could easily be different people from a couple of days ago. Alyssa is just looking down at the ground as she walks, dragging her suitcase behind her. She looks… lost. Not in the she doesn't know where she is way, but like she doesn't know anything. And Elliot, she just looks so worried, but about what I really don't know.
"Hey," I solemnly say when they're both close enough to hear me.
Alyssa doesn't respond. I'm not sure she even heard me, because she's still starting at the ground. "I'm going to the bathroom she says a second or two later. Her voice is low, not cheery like it normally is.
Once Alyssa is out of earshot, I ask Elliot, "What happened in Connecticut?"
"It's such a mess, JD," Elliot quietly replies. "I'll explain it all at home, but Alyssa's parents got divorced. And her dad is dying."
"Oh my god."
Tears start rolling down Elliot's face. "I have no idea how to help Alyssa through this."
"It's okay," I soothingly say, as I hug Elliot. "We'll help her through it together. How, I don't know, but we'll do it. Somehow."
"So much for a Merry Christmas," Elliot quietly remarks.