Dandelions

you.

Chapter 1

I sat at the kitchen table. We had been here exactly one week – our new home in Kilkenny, South Carolina. I was homeschooled because we moved so much. Today I was taking my last final exam of the year as I had done so many times before, at so many other kitchen tables, in so many other homes, in so many other cities.

My pencil was pinched between my thumb and index finger, tapping one end on the table, then the other. Absently, my other hand pressed random buttons on my calculator. My mind had drifted far away from my calculus exam.

Tessa, you’re daydreaming.

My mother sat opposite me, pushed back from the table, her eyes fixed on a page in her Southern Living magazine. Her long, strawberry blonde hair twisted into a bun with her pen stuck through it.

Thinking, I corrected.

Daydreaming, she said, now with understanding eyes.

Maybe just a little, I admitted. It’s so perfect, Mom.

Mom glanced around the kitchen. The cabinets are orange, Tessa. The counter tops are olive green. It looks like a ‘70’s nightmare. She shook her head, returned her gaze to her magazine and muttered, brown-tiled backsplash.

I like the brown tile. It will look great with the wood floor once we paint the cabinets white.

Good goddess, daughter, are you ever going to finish that final?

Finished, I said and pushed the papers toward her. I twisted my hair into a bun like hers, using my pencil to secure it. Mom and I were exactly 20 years to the day apart in age. Her hair had lightened over the years, but when she was young it had been red like mine. We had the same porcelain skin, the same blue eyes and the same fiery temperament. My dad—real dad—used to say the temper went with the hair.

She flipped through the packet quickly. You left the last five problems blank. The final is 20 percent of your grade.

Which right now is an A+.

If you don’t finish the final, the best you can do is…

B+ in the class.

She let out an exaggerated sigh. Do two more problems. That will be an A- if they are all correct.

They are.

Finish two more problems, change your clothes and grab a paintbrush. I can’t eat another meal surrounded by these colors.

In twelve minutes I had finished the two problems, changed my clothes and was back in the kitchen. Mom was waiting. She watched my brothers through the sliding glass door. They were exploring the old rusty shed in the far left corner of our backyard. What wasn’t rusty was a faded metal gray. It had no windows and the two doors were secured with a padlock. The roof was fairly flat, pitched like a barn and the shed was big enough to hold an elephant.

What are they doing? I asked.

They are working hard to break into the shed. When my ten-year-old brother, Gabe, hoisted my seven-year-old brother, Max, to his shoulders and launched him onto the roof, my mother added, or break Max’s neck.

Max had an incredible sense of balance and no concept of fear, broken bones or death. My mother merely shifted her weight. She was used to my brothers climbing to unsafe heights. This was mild for Max.

What’s in it? I asked.

I have no idea. The previous owners were very old. I doubt the shed has been opened in the last decade.

Judging from the overgrown weeds surrounding it, I would have guessed at least a decade, maybe two. Scattered around it were a couple old tires, some wood thingies and other junk. After surveying the roof, Max stepped to the edge ready to jump. At this point, I would expect most mothers to frantically fling the sliding glass door open and charge, screaming warnings of broken bones or certain death. Not my mom. She calmly banged on the glass door and wagged her finger. It worked. Max turned around and eased his legs over the side until they connected with Gabe’s shoulders. Ready to paint? she asked, walking toward the cabinets.

Last week we picked up all the supplies and took the cabinet doors off their hinges; 26 of them. Mom decided to put my brothers to work, brought the lower cabinet doors outside and laid them on a plastic sheet face down. She gave my brothers a gallon of primer, paint brushes and instructions not to paint anything or anyone but the doors.

In less than two hours, with a music mix of Dave Matthews, Michael Bublé and John Mayer keeping us company, we had covered all the orange wood in the kitchen with primer. We took a short break to goof around singing ‘All of Me’ by Michael Bublé.

My mom had a beautiful voice. She said mine was better, but it wasn’t. We sang together and danced around the kitchen… "All of me, come on take all of me; oh mama, can`t you see? I`m no good without you…"

This was the beginning of the best summer in years. So many things would be different.

Our energy filled the air as my mom and I danced, sang and laughed. We chatted about everything we would do this summer. Then Jon came home. The scent of his cinnamon gum entered the room with him. He looked annoyed. He held his cell phone up toward my mother and it acted like a fun-sucking device, draining all joy and enthusiasm from the room. Or maybe it was Jon doing that.

You’re home early, my mother said without emotion. My stepdad’s moods didn’t affect her like they did me.

Yes, I am. I’ve been calling you for hours. Where is your phone?

Upstairs, she said. Tess and I were homeschooling earlier. When my mother was in teacher mode, she insisted on no distractions.

You don’t appear to be homeschooling now, Jon said, stating the obvious like it was his job. When, in fact, his job was turning around failing manufacturing plants. He also specialized in uprooting our family every few months, or weeks.

What is it, Jon? She asked turning her back on him to study our handiwork.

When they couldn’t reach you, they called me.

Mom turned around and huffed. "Spit it out, Jon. Who called? What do they need?"

Jon gave me the eye like I was supposed to leave the room. Not a chance. Well, not unless my mom insisted on it. ‘Savannah,’ was all he said. It wasn’t what my mom had expected. She paled.

What happened?

Two more babies were, he hesitated, lost. The second one was this morning.

My mother was a nurse practitioner, specifically a midwife. She helped women deliver their babies at home and without drugs. We moved every few months because of Jon’s career, and Mom easily found work no matter where we lived. She had a reputation of specializing in complicated pregnancies and wherever we moved, she was in instant demand. We had only lived in Savannah, Georgia for five weeks.

Mom? I questioned.

I may have to go back to Savannah, she answered.

Jon had left the room now that he had successfully destroyed the mood. It took me a moment to realize my mom had said ‘I have to go back,’ not ‘we.’

"You mean we have to go back?" I corrected.

No, just me.

Why can’t we go with you? I was speaking for my brothers too, knowing we would all much rather be with my mother than Jon.

You need to stay here and settle in, finish painting, she said forcing a smile and pointing outside where my brothers had abandoned their painting duties. This is going to be our home, Tess. Jon went to a lot of trouble to find a contract that would last a couple years instead of a couple months. We have a home now.

Jon re-entered the room hearing her statement regarding his work. He held out her cell phone smiling as if he had done something spectacular by finding a long-term contract so we wouldn’t have to move in a month or inhabit another hotel. I watched as she read her text messages.

When she finished I asked, How long?

There are two women with complicated pregnancies. They need me there for their deliveries. Their due dates are only a couple weeks apart.

How long? I asked again.

Two, maybe three weeks, but Jon won’t have to go to the plant every day.

And when he does go, you’re leaving us alone? For as long as I could remember, Jon worked days. Mom worked nights. That way my brothers and I wouldn’t be left alone. Suddenly, that wasn’t a priority? Not that I couldn’t handle the responsibility. I was almost sixteen. The fact remained, I could watch my brothers as easily in Savannah as I could here in Kilkenny, but that wasn’t the question that came out. Why you, Mom?

Tessa, we’ve been through this before.

We had. I knew she would give me the same answer she always did when she had to stay overnight with a patient who had a high risk pregnancy. If the pregnancies were that complicated, why didn’t the mothers go to the hospital? My mother never liked that question, so today I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to fight. I just wanted to know why we couldn’t go with her. This time I stated my preference matter-of-factly. We’ll go with you then.

Jon pointed outside where my brothers were setting up an obstacle course with the trash they found by the shed.

Your brothers will have much more fun here. We have a huge yard and a forest behind our property with more trees than they can climb in a month. This is exponentially better for you kids than a hotel, and you can continue to fix things up while your mother is gone, he said.

I wished he’d shut up. He only wanted us here so he wouldn’t be alone and so he’d have someone to cook, clean and do his laundry. I would be Cinderella while my mother was away.

It’s safer too, Mom added. The house is set back off the street and the backyard is fenced in. It’s much safer than having you hang out at a hotel swimming pool all day without a parent around.

You work nights, Mother. We can be with you during the day and be inside at night. I was losing the argument. I had to control my temper. It was time for guilt. "You promised you wouldn’t work this summer. Promised we would decorate and paint and go to the beach. This summer was supposed to be different. It isn’t fair!"

Life isn’t always fair, Jon said like I was a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. This isn’t the time for you to be selfish.

"Easy for you to say, Jon, since our lives revolve around you and your job. I’m the one without friends. I’m the one without a social life, without any life. If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to at least be with my mother." Clear anger pulsed through my words, and I barely kept from shouting. I really wanted to scream; scream how much my life sucked and that things would be different if my dad was alive. My fists were balled up, and rage bubbled up inside of me. I saw a hint of guilt cross Mom’s face. Then it was gone. Why wasn’t she sticking up for me? My mother studied me with a curious look waiting for something; possibly my final eruption.

Jon said, Tessa, go see what your brothers are doing.

And he wondered why I didn’t like him. He didn’t care what my brothers were doing. That was Jon’s way of telling me to go away. He and Mom needed to talk.

His comment sparked my final outburst. You just don’t care! I screamed. Then I stormed away and slammed my bedroom door.

How could Jon call anyone selfish? The word was invented to describe him. Disappointment, resentment and pure, seething rage swirled through my brain like never before. I felt my emotions combust and burn through my entire body as if it were on fire. My body temperature rose, my hands shook and my eyes ached. Not like the ache just before I cried, I was far from crying. It was a different kind of ache that surrounded my eyeballs – like the fury I felt was literally emanating from behind my eyes. I turned to see my reflection in my bedroom mirror. My face was so red I thought I’d burst a blood vessel any moment, but that wasn’t the scariest part. My eyes had turned to yellow glowing orbs like an angry fire. I moved closer to the mirror. I shook so badly it was impossible to focus on my reflection. I closed my eyes tightly and took several long, deep breaths to calm myself. When I reopened them, the shaking slowed but the glow of my eyes remained.

One final time I closed my eyes, counted to thirty and reopened them. The shaking had stopped, my face was no longer red and staring back at me were my clear, blue eyes. Over my shoulder, sunlight streamed into my room through the window. Had the sun reflected off my mirror causing the glow or was I hallucinating?

After several more minutes and countless deep breaths, I opened my door intent to calmly plead my case again. I heard whispers and then crying. Had I made Mom cry or was she crying over the babies that died? I wanted her to care more about me. Maybe Jon was right. Maybe I was selfish.

I walked down the hall and peered into the kitchen. Jon wasn’t the best stepdad in the world. He had an annoying know-it-all way about him. He acted like he was in charge. We all knew that Mom was in charge, but she tolerated his posturing, so we had to as well. But when Mom was upset and needed comfort, Jon knew exactly what to do. He held her close and smoothed her long hair from the crown of her head to the middle of her back over and over. I heard him whisper words of comfort while her body heaved in anguish. Jon was her rock. Dad used to be her rock. I went from rage to guilt to empty. I hurt my mom terribly, and I ached for my dad.

During dinner, Mom broke the news to my brothers. She would leave in the morning and be gone for a couple of weeks. She told them about the babies still to be delivered and how their due dates were a couple weeks apart. I knew my brothers still didn’t understand ‘why her’ either, but they knew better and didn’t ask – and after making her cry earlier, I refused to make this any harder on her.

Still, this wasn’t the summer they had promised us. I understood life isn’t always fair – but for the last five years, it seemed disproportionally unfair to me. I didn’t have any friends. I’d never had a boyfriend. If it wasn’t for technology and television, I’d be completely out of touch with the life of a teenager. And if I didn’t love to read, I’d be bored out of my mind. I hated my life.

Two or three weeks with Jon; could my life get any worse?

Chapter 2

I didn’t want to be at the beach. If I had a normal life, I’d spend my Saturday sitting with my friends talking about who the cute guys were and what we wanted to buy at the mall. But my life was anything but normal.

We’d been in Kilkenny, South Carolina for eight days. Mom had gone back to Savannah that morning to take care of people more important to her than her family, I guess. That probably wasn’t fair to say, but it was how I felt. Why couldn’t my brothers and I have stayed with her in Savannah? Jon could still do his work here. That would have been a better idea. They disagreed. Now Mom was alone, and we were with Jon, the poster child for the Awkward Boy Scout Leader, if that isn’t redundant.

That morning we had finished priming the rest of the kitchen cabinets, then headed for Clowder Beach – more of a local beach than a gathering spot for tourists, not that Kilkenny had many, from what I could tell. Jon insisted on making the 10 minute drive to the beach, a 90 minute torturous, boring field trip through our new hometown. My little brothers were their typical immature selves – they mocked each other in the back seat and knocked me in the head with their rafts. By the time we reached the beach, I was close to being car sick, sick of my family and sick of smelling Jon’s cinnamon gum.

Finally we parked at the beach, and Boy Scout Jon led us through the sand in search of the perfect spot. Besides being a fashion emergency in his dark plaid shirt and short khaki shorts, he had my old Little Mermaid backpack slung over his shoulder and dragged our cooler ineptly behind him. I wondered if the cooler was too heavy for him to navigate or if he was just naturally ungraceful. I should have been thankful he didn’t bring a Boy Scout whistle… that would’ve been the cherry on top.

Come on troop, let’s stay together. Tess, you’re laggin’ a bit.

I tried not look around at who was staring at him or me. I stuck my eyes to the ground and hid my face with my hair. Would they know I was Tess and lagging on purpose?

Luckily I looked nothing like Jon. He had muddy brown hair, hazel eyes and a medium skin tone, unlike my skin that needed SPF 2000 to keep from burning. My brothers both had a mop of blonde, curly hair and our dad’s olive skin. The only trait we had in common was our eye color, blue.

Anyone up for exploring? Jon asked after obsessing over our setup for easily 20 minutes. Even Max was exasperated. I looked at my brothers who were clearly as interested in a break from Jon as I was. Their eyes pleaded at mine. I was momentarily tempted to sacrifice their sanity for my serenity.

I’ll keep an eye on them while you go for a walk, Jon. Take your time. I have my cell phone, I said, and I patted the pocket of my shorts.

All-righty then.

Geeze…who says all-righty?

I’m going to head north toward the rocks. I think it divides this little beach from the main one. Jon pointed toward a jagged rock wall far in the distance. I didn’t care what he was doing as long as it took him a long time.

Yeah, we’ll be fine here with Tessie. Go find out what’s on the other side of the wall! Gabe had excitement in his voice, but I knew the excitement was for being Jon-less for awhile. Jon didn’t catch on. He walked about twenty feet away and then looked back waving goodbye at us, as if he was leaving for weeks. We should be so lucky. We stood with smiles plastered on our faces talking to each other through clenched teeth.

How long do you think he’ll be gone? Gabe asked without changing his expression.

Not long enough, Max answered with an oddly stoic look for a seven year old.

I held back my laughter to defend Jon. I know he annoys us, but … I was stuck…but what? I asked myself. Gabe echoed my internal question.

But what, Tess? They both looked at me. When I didn’t speak up my brothers took turns finishing my sentence.

Max led the assault. But not as much as he annoys Mom?

But he doesn’t know he’s annoying? Gabe lowered his voice, looked around and put his hand up to his mouth as if he was going to tell a secret. If we’re lucky, he’ll find someone else to annoy on the other side of the wall!

If we’re lucky, they’ll…

I held my hand up to stop Max from another insult. We weren’t just laughing; we were howling and calling attention to ourselves. I caught my breath.

But we need to give him a break, especially while Mom’s gone.

They responded to my statement with sneers. Neither of my brothers bought into my act of compassion.

Allllll-righty? I asked, imitating Jon. We all broke down into hysterics again. "But really, we need to try not to do anything to make him annoy us any worse." They both smiled and nodded in agreement. Then they didn’t waste any more time and cut to the water.

Now, finally, I could spend time with my friends. The only friends I had. Their lives were exciting, filled with love, adventure and danger. My friends were loyal, beautiful and smart. They were strong and fierce and courageous. They lived in caves and castles, jungles, space and the sea. I read all kinds