Falling Up (3 page)

And I can tell she's still depressed. Oh, she tries to act as if she's not, especially when she's trying to “encourage”
me. But I can see right through her. And instead of feeling better after her little “pep talks,” I feel more depressed than before. But I can't tell her this. I mean, at least she's trying, right?

I guess I'm just feeling pretty bummed tonight. And going to youth group did not bolster my spirits one bit. Maybe it's just me. Or maybe things are changing. I'm not sure. But for starters, Josh had someone else give the message tonight, and it was pretty lame, or at least I thought so. And Cesar wasn't there, so I didn't even have someone to review it with afterward. Usually Cesar and I see eye to eye on most things, and when we don't, it can be a pretty interesting discussion. Anyway, the whole evening was pretty much a letdown.

Oh, I don't know what I really expected, but sometimes it's so cool to be there, and I feel so much at home. And I guess I thought, well, especially after losing Mom…that I'd get some kind of encouragement.

As a result I probably seemed a little moodier than usual when I got home. I walked right past where Shannon and Maya were sitting in front of the TV without even saying “hey” and headed straight to the kitchen. And of course, Maya jumped right onto this.

“So your little youth group didn't cheer you up tonight?” she said when she found me standing in front of the window of the dark kitchen, a can of unopened soda in my hand.

Without turning, I told her that it wasn't their job to cheer me up.

“Then why do you go?” She pulled up a chair, as if I'd invited her to join me.

Okay, normally on a good day, I might see this as an opportunity to share my faith, but this wasn't exactly a good day. To be honest, I had no desire to have a conversation with this girl. So I said nothing.

“Oh, I get it,” she said. “You go because it's the right thing to do. I know people like that. They do all kinds of crud they don't enjoy, but it's the RIGHT thing to do. So without questioning and acting like preprogrammed robots, off they go just so they—”

“That's not how it is.” I turned to look at her. Okay, I wish I'd taken just a split second to pray—to ask God to help me say something helpful or enlightening or even kind. But I did not.

“How is it then?”

“I go because I want to go.”

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I get that too. Some people get this weird kind of pleasure when they do things they don't enjoy. Is it like that for you?”

“No.” The impatience in my voice must've been obvious. “It's not.”

“So what then?”

I shook my head. “I guess it's a personal thing, Maya. Maybe someday when you're older you'll understand.” Then I took my soda and went up to my room. And naturally, once I was up there I felt bad. So ungracious. So unkind. So unlike my mother. I think I am a total failure.

Wednesday, May 8

It was a relief to return to school this week. A kind of mind-numbing relief of being in my element, my comfort zone, where I could go through the paces and perform with perfection without hardly even trying. The only times I got uncomfortable were when someone offered me sympathy for losing my mom. I could've done without that. Still, after the first day, I managed to come up with some pat responses that made these moments pass more smoothly.

“Kim,” someone would say, “I'm so sorry to hear about your mom. Are you doing okay?”

To which I'd respond. “Yes, I'm sorry too. I appreciate your concern. Thanks.” And somehow that just stopped it all right there. No more explaining or hugging or tears. A relief to me, because I just don't think I can take much more.

And going to school provided a nice escape from my relatives too. At least during the day. After that, I get pushed to my limits every night. Shannon really believes that she can cook now. But just like before, she makes these big horrible messes and shanky food that no one, even someone starving, would want to eat. And I end up cleaning it all up.

Last night, as I was scrubbing down the stove Shannon had turned into a grease pit, enjoying a bit of solitude since no one besides Dad (and I always tell him no) offers to help me, I felt somewhat reassured that at least it would be the last time for this kind of KP.
Shannon and Maya would be leaving the next morning. So I was in a little bit better spirits.

It even occurred to me that I'd probably found a tiny bit of solace while working so hard to put Mom's kitchen back in order every night. In a way, it was like a small connection to her. Almost like when I'm practicing violin. So I suppose I should've been thankful for Shannon's “cooking efforts.”

Just as I was finishing up, Maya made an appearance. “Need any help?”

I kind of laughed. “Good timing. I'm just about done.”

“Oh.” Now she actually looked slightly disappointed. Sorry.

“Here.” I handed her a sponge. “You can wipe down the microwave if you want.”

So she did it. I finished up the sink, and then we really were done. “Thanks,” I told her.

“Yeah, right. Big deal.”

I wasn't sure how to respond. “So…are you guys all ready to go? Dad said you have an early flight in the morning.”

She shrugged. “Yeah. I'm ready, but then I travel light. Don't know about Mom. She just went up to start packing. I'm guessing she'll be up past midnight, but knowing her, she might stay up all night anyway. Hope she hasn't disturbed you guys, although I'm sure you've noticed by now she's kind of a night owl.”

I nodded without mentioning that Shannon has, in
fact, woken me several times, or how Dad and I would both be relieved to see our guests leaving tomorrow. No need to be rude. “It does make me curious though.

“About what?”

“Well, I know you're homeschooled, but if Shannon stays up all night and it seems like she sleeps a lot during the day, how do you do homeschool?”

Maya just laughed. “Oh, I have my books and my computer and the assignments I get online. And if I'm in the mood, I sometimes get them done.”

“But what if you're not? In the mood I mean?”

“Then I get behind.”

“So, are you? Behind?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Does Shannon know?”

Maya shrugged. “She doesn't pay much attention.”

“Maya?” I began, knowing that I was getting onto shaky ground. “Is it true what you said about her, that time you said she was high? Was she really on something?”

She smirked then said, “Well, yeah,” like she was stating the obvious.

“Does she take a prescription? Like antidepressants?”

“Not exactly a prescription,” she said, “But something like that. It's her own little formula. Some are from various doctors. Some are from the street. Whatever it takes to keep Shannon going, Shannon will take.”

“So is she like an addict?”

Maya threw back her head and laughed.

“I take that as a yes.”

Sobering, Maya nodded. “Yeah, Shannon's an addict.”

“Has she ever gotten help?”

“Help?” Maya looked slightly puzzled. “You mean like rehab or counseling?”

“Yeah, some form of addiction therapy.”

“Well, according to the research I did a while ago, back when I was young enough to think things could change, I heard that an addict can't be helped until she admits she has a problem.”

“And your mom hasn't done that?”

Maya firmly shook her head. “No way. Shannon thinks that Shannon is perfectly fine. It's the rest of the world that's messed up.”

I sighed and actually put my hand on her shoulder. “I'm sorry, Maya.”

And to my surprise this simple gesture seemed to touch her, and she even got tears in her eyes, but she didn't say anything.

“If there's ever anything we can do,” I continued, not even knowing why, “please, let us know. I mean, we are your family after all.”

And so we agreed to stay in contact via e-mail. And then I even hugged her. “You are my only cousin,” I told her with actual tears in my eyes. “And while we may not be related by blood or genetics, we are related by mothers, and I know my mother would want to help you—if it's at all possible.

And now that they're gone—Dad said he took them to the airport in plenty of time for their early flight—I am even more certain of this. If Mom were here, she would do whatever it took to help Maya. And of course, she'd want to help Shannon too. That's just how she was.

Not that it would be easy to help Shannon, since I've heard the same thing about addicts that Maya heard. I do think it's true that they have to want help, and they usually don't. But I told Maya I'd be praying for Shannon to wake up and figure things out.

Of course, I didn't tell Maya that I'd be praying for her too. That might've overwhelmed her and been enough to intimidate her and keep her from e-mailing me. And for some reason, I think this communication link may be important.

So as much as I've blown it with Shannon and Maya this past week, this is one thing I might've done right— reaching out to Maya. And I think maybe Mom would be happy with it. Of course, I'm sure she'd be sad to find out that her little sister is a drug addict. Or maybe she'd had suspicions all along. Anyway, she must know these things by now. It's not like there are secrets in heaven, are there?

It's probably because ofthat conversation with Maya that I decided to answer a couple of letters about addiction tonight. And I'm thinking that when the paper comes out, I'll forward them to Maya, pretending like, “hey, look at this.” And who knows? It might help.

I'm thinking a gambling addiction couldn't be as harmful as drugs. I know it's bad and that it can bring financial ruin on a family, but drugs can literally kill. The next letter has to do with just that. It came right after
Mom died, and the subject was so heavy I just couldn't force myself to answer it. Today I will.

Now I'm feeling seriously guilty that I didn't answer this sooner. Those poor kids! What was I thinking? I will definitely be praying for them—with all my heart. What kind of parents act like this anyway? Putting themselves and their children at such huge risk? Oh, yeah, ones like my aunt. But then she doesn't actually cook dope in her home—at least I don't think so. Maya didn't mention anything like this.

Anyway, I plan to show Dad this pitiful letter tomorrow, and I'm hoping he can keep an eye on the news and keep me informed if there's a bust that fits the description of Over Her Head's stupid parents. And while I'm on the subject with Dad, I plan to tell him about Shannon and her little problems too.

Man, life can be so sad sometimes.

Friday, May 10

As much as I hated having Shannon and Maya here with all their yelling and cursing and bickering, I have to say that I almost miss it now that they're gone. Our house is so freaky quiet that sometimes I feel like I'm going to scream, just so I can hear some noise. Oh, its not as if it was really noisy while Mom was alive, but there were sounds…comforting sounds I miss.

Like the way she'd have the morning news show playing on her little kitchen TV while she tried to talk me into having something for breakfast, or the public radio station she sometimes listened to in the afternoon, or just the sound of her working in the kitchen, sometimes humming to herself if she didn't know anyone was listening. But now I come home from school, and its perfectly still and quiet. And even though it's May, it feels cold to me too. Like our house is dead.

I tried playing my violin for a while today, but the sound of it echoing throughout the silent house just got to me—it was so lonely and desperate sounding that I had to stop. I put it away and closed the case and just wandered around until I came to my parents' room.