Read Online Tell Me Something Real by Calla Devlin - Free Book Online

everything before.”
    â€œBefore getting sick?”
    â€œYeah.”
    He stares at his sneakers. “It’s messed up because he left, but I miss my dad more than anything.” He rubs his scalp. “Even my hair.”
    The thought of losing Dad is as inconceivable as Mom’s leukemia. I close my eyes and wish I could take back my question. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œWhat about you?”
    I miss my healthy Mom, the mom in the photo, the one who smiled and led us through the amusement park, the last one wanting to leave. The mom from the movies and the pier, only cancer-free. “I want her to get better.”
    We sit on the bed until Barb shouts that dinner is ready.
    We haven’t had company since Mom got diagnosed, so imagine my surprise when I see the dinner table decorated with place mats, cloth napkins, and candles—not as many as the day of the storm, but a few.
    Mom emerges from her room, looking a little better, but not much. She’s coated her chapped lips with a soft pink lipstick, a shade I’ve never seen before, and she gives us all a tight smile, which I recognize immediately. She’s pushing herself too hard. She’s trying her best to be normal, but she’ll pay for it later with nausea and fatigue. I remind myself to give her some medicine right after dinner. Maybe a sleeping pill, too. I watch her rally. She takes a deep breath, samples the hippie food, and returns her fork to the plate. She doesn’t take another bite. I want to hijack a car and buy her clam strips, even if it just gives her the memory of something she loves. As if she reads my mind, she gives me a knowing smile.
    While the rest of us eat, Mom quizzes Barb about different natural health treatments. As she explains her own poor appetite, Mom asks what food helps which symptoms. They go on and on until Adrienne and Marie clear the table and wash the dishes. They keep out a plate for Dad, who is stuck at work again.
    Caleb and I escape to the family room to watch Wonder Woman . Halfway through the show, he puts his hand on mine. I hold my breath, not wanting anything to move. I’veheld hands with boys before. I’ve been kissed, even underwater at the public pool. I’ve had crushes, both requited and not. I may be a wallflower compared to Adrienne, with her devoted cult following, but I know that boys see something in me. Some boys—not the ones like Zach. Mine are in Model U.N. or band or orchestra.
    None of them gave me vertigo or tremors or heightened nerve sensitivity, though. Not a single one made me feel like I wasn’t so alone.
    Caleb squeezes my hand. I look up and find his eyes on me—not the crime-fighting supermodel—and he smiles. There isn’t anything bashful about him. Without thinking, I inch closer, just enough that our shoulders touch. I’m so distracted by the heat of his palm on my skin, I can’t tell you how the program ended.
    Later, after I feed Mom her pills and we have all gone to bed, I whisper to Adrienne about Caleb holding my hand.
    â€œJesus Christ, Vanessa, you’re sixteen years old with a live-in boyfriend. Now you really have something to brag about when you start school.”

Five
    The house is quiet, but not in the captive way it once was. Small sounds of life fill the rooms, reassuring sounds, sounds of string beans snapping, iced tea pouring, and breezes swaying kitchen curtains. The sounds of the living.
    Over the course of two weeks, Barb has renovated our day-to-day lives. With her in charge, we wake to a warm breakfast, orange juice, and herbal tea. She bans coffee, much to Dad and Adrienne’s dismay, but they keep the complaints to themselves and frequently sneak in steaming Styrofoam cups.
    Dad built our house on a hill, with a solid foundation and good bones, filled with strong weight-bearing walls that would survive a major earthquake. Barb, with her equally solid frame, adds a layer of