The Clay Lion (19 page)

Facing his death for the third time, now without
any hope at all, was more than I could emotionally or physically handle. 
I had absolutely no idea what Branson had been exposed to which triggered the
disease and that realization crushed my spirit.  I tried over the course
of the first several days after the coughing began to maintain my
composure.  I attempted to portray a façade of ignorance about what was to
become of Branson. This became a daily struggle.  One to which I would
eventually succumb.

Knowing that I chose to enter the timeline later
during my second trip than I had on the first also meant that I would be forced
to stay to watch his disease progress further than I had during my original
journey.  I would be there to witness the diagnosis and the
aftermath.  I would see the anguish on his face as he learned he would
die.  This knowledge was a burden I carried with me morning, noon, and night.

In addition to the loss of hope, I was battling
yet another demon, which also fueled my downward spiral.  Self-loathing
consumed every waking hour.  I had failed my brother not once, but
twice.  And the second time, instead of maintaining constant vigilance for
other possible exposures, I cast off my duty to my brother and indulged in my
own frivolous behaviors with Charlie.  I despised myself.  And that
hatred quickly found its way to Charlie in the form of resentment.

The morning following the return of Branson’s
cough, Charlie called immediately after breakfast to ask about spending the day
together. 

“Do you want to hike out to the lake in an hour
or so?” he asked.  “It’s supposed to be a nice day.  I thought maybe
we could stop at the deli and pick up some sandwiches to take along.”

“I don’t think I can,” I responded.

“Oh.”  He paused. 
“Why
not?”

“I think I may have been exposed to the flu the
other day.  I don’t want to make you sick.”

“I’m not worried about catching anything from you
Brooke,” he laughed.

“Also, I have a ton of homework to finish before
tomorrow.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.
 
Lots.
  It’s just not a good day.”

“Okay.  Well, do you want me to come over
and we can just do homework together?”

“No Charlie.  Not today.”

“How about after school tomorrow then?”

“I’ll let you know,” I replied.

When our conversation was over, I was sure that I
left Charlie feeling rejected.  However, I found that I was suddenly able
to separate myself from him emotionally as I was clearly unworthy of his
love.  Over the course of the next several days, I repeatedly avoided
contact with Charlie, either over the phone or in person. 

Finally, on Friday, Charlie showed up at my
school.  We had not seen one another since his grandmother’s birthday
celebration the weekend before.  As I exited the building, I saw a figure
leaning against the hood of my car and knew immediately that he had come for
me.  My initial reaction was to return to the building and wait for him to
go away, but I knew him far too well.  He would wait for me.

With Branson by my side, I crossed the parking
lot slowly, giving myself a few precious moments to concoct an excuse for my
behavior.  As soon as Branson recognized that Charlie was in the parking
lot, he jogged the rest of the way to the car, leaving me in his wake.  By
the time I caught up, Branson was doubled over, coughing and gasping for
air.  Charlie was kneeling beside him, clearly distressed at seeing my
brother struggling to breathe.

“Is he okay?” he asked with genuine concern in
his voice.

“No,” I said flatly, desperate to add that he was
dying.

Charlie looked at me as if I had slapped him
across the face and returned to Branson’s side.

“Branson, sit down buddy,” he consoled him,
helping him to the ground and patting him gently on the back.

Within a few minutes, Branson was breathing
normally again and he was able to muster the strength to climb into the
passenger’s seat of my car.  However, he continued to cough repeatedly and
each time it was as if a knife was piercing my heart.  Tears welled up in
my eyes and I was suddenly no longer able to maintain my composure.  I
slumped to the ground, bracing myself against the trunk of the car and wept
openly into my arms.  Instantly, Charlie was upon me and I was wrapped in
his embrace.  As he smoothed my hair, he whispered words of comfort
quietly in my ear.  I have no idea how long I sat there sobbing on the
ground, but Charlie remained by my side.  When I was finally able to raise
my head, I was devastated by the love I saw in his eyes being poured out on my
behalf.  I shook my head forcefully, pushing him away with my arms.

“No, no, no!” I cried.  “Please Charlie, I
can’t!  It’s not fair!  I’ve ruined it!  It’s
all
my
fault!” 

I beat my fists repeatedly into his chest as he
sat stoically before me and accepted every blow.  When at last my energy
was completely spent, he lifted me carefully off the ground and placed me
gently into the back seat of my car.  Sliding into the driver’s seat, he
buckled his seatbelt and without another word, drove Branson and me home. 

As we pulled into the driveway, I buried my face
in my hands once again, unable to face either of the boys after my
outburst.  Charlie parked the car and walked with Branson into the house,
leaving me alone in the backseat.  I waited for Charlie to reappear, but
as the minutes ticked by, I decided to make my way into the house on my own.

As I entered the kitchen, I could hear low voices
coming from the family room.  I eased through the doorway carefully so as
not to alert the boys to my presence.  Tiptoeing to the opposite end of
the room, I was able to listen to what they were saying.

“I don’t know.  It’s weird.  It just
kind of came out of nowhere.  I’ve been sucking on lozenges all week, but
it’s not helping.  It’s not like a tickle in my throat.  It feels
like it’s in my lungs,” Branson was explaining to Charlie.

“Could be pneumonia,” Charlie speculated, “or
bronchitis.
  Have you
been to the doctor?”

“No, not yet.
  I think Mom was planning on taking me in
the morning.  I don’t have a fever or anything.  I haven’t been
sick.  It’s just my lungs are driving me crazy.  And you saw what
happened when I tried to jog.”

“You don’t have asthma, do you?” Charlie
inquired.

“Nope.”

They were silent for a moment.

“Brooke hasn’t called me all week,” Charlie
commented.

“I know,” Branson said sympathetically.

Charlie paused. “Have I done something?  Did
she say anything to you?”

“No.  She’s barely spoken to any of us all
week.  She came home after your grandmother’s party Saturday and was
singing as she came up the stairs.  That’s how I knew she was home. 
I’d been out with Chad, but I was tired, so his mom brought me home
early.  The next thing I knew she was in my room looking at me like she’d
seen a ghost.  She’s been a wreck ever since,” explained Branson. 
After a moment he continued, “Did she act weird at the party?”

“No.  She was amazing,” Charlie responded.

“She loves you,” Branson confided.

“She loves you too.”

“Guess we’re both pretty lucky.”

Furious with myself for destroying everything beautiful
in my life and on the verge of yet another full blown meltdown, I held my hands
over my face to keep from giving away my location.  I maneuvered carefully
through the kitchen toward the staircase but was tripped up by the cat lying at
the foot of the steps.  She mewed, alerting the boys to my presence. 

“Brooke?” they called simultaneously.

I took off at a run up the steps and retreated
into my room, slamming the door behind me.  Of course, it was only a matter
of seconds before Charlie appeared in the doorway, his eyes full of compassion.
 Compassion that he saw fit to waste on me.

“Please
talk
to me!” he begged.

“I can’t!” I yelled at him, hysterical again,
burying my face in my pillow.

“You can,” he reasoned, sitting next to me on my
bed.  “You can tell me anything.”

I remained silent, sobbing between gasps of air.

“Have I hurt you?”

“No.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Not you.”

“Then who are you mad at?”

“Myself.”

“Why?”

“Because people were counting on me and I’m a
selfish brat.”

“You don’t have a selfish bone in your
body.  You are not a brat.  And who was counting on you?”

“Everyone.”

“The whole world?”

The tiniest of smiles formed at the corners of my
lips and I took a deep breath.

“No.”  

“Then who?”

I filled my lungs to capacity and slowly, very
slowly released the air through my mouth.  Finally, I turned to face him,
picking up my chin and squaring my shoulders.

“I can’t tell you.  I want to but I
can’t.  It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way, but it has and there is
nothing anyone can do about it.  I thought I could fix everything, but I
couldn’t.  I didn’t try hard enough.  And you are partly to blame
because you… you… you made me love you.  I didn’t stand a chance against
you.  If you’d left me alone, maybe I would have done better.  But
it’s too late now.”

My cat appeared on the bed, nuzzled my face and
curled up on my lap.  Her fur was silky and she purred lazily as I stroked
her head.  The sun warmed my face through the window and I closed my eyes
and accepted the moment of peace I had been granted in the tempest.

Charlie broke the silence saying, “I don’t know
what has happened.  I don’t know what you think is going to happen. 
I don’t know how I kept you from doing whatever it was that you thought you had
to do.  But I love you Brooke Wallace, and I want to help you. 
Please don’t shut me out.”  He paused to take my hand. 
“And Branson too.
  That kid worships the ground you
walk on.”

The mere mention of his name elicited yet another
round of hysterics, and with that, Charlie slowly began putting the pieces of
the puzzle together.

“It’s Branson, isn’t it?” he asked.  When I
did not respond, he continued to travel along his own line of thinking. 
“This all started last weekend.  This week he has a cough.  You think
he’s sick?”

I refused to look at his face for fear that I
would surely give myself away. 

“Brooke?  He’s fine.  He’s going to be
fine,” he consoled me, pulling me into his chest and wrapping me in his
arms.  After a moment, I wriggled free from his embrace and walked across
the room.

“I need to be with him alone for a while.  I
need to sort some things out.  Please know that you are the only miracle
I’ve ever had in my life and that, if for some reason, things don’t work out
with us, it wasn’t your fault.  It wasn’t because you weren’t
amazing. 
Because you are.
  Okay?” 
Charlie did not respond.  “Okay?” I repeated.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

It is possible to shatter a heart twice in one
lifetime. I know because just when I thought there was not a shard of my heart
left that was large enough to break, I felt it explode inside my chest into a
thousand tiny pieces.  The pain was excruciating.  I forced myself to
look at Charlie and found that he had tears streaming down his face.

“I love you,” I said, “I’m so very sorry. 
Please, I just need some time.”

Charlie took my face in his hands as he had on
our very first night together and he pressed his lips tenderly against mine.

“I’ll wait for you,” he said and with that, he
walked out of my room and out of my life.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY
F
OUR

In the subsequent weeks, Branson’s illness
progressed as it had in both previous timelines.  He visited doctor after
doctor and was subjected to test after test.  For my part, I attempted to
appreciate having his spirit around for what I knew would be the final
months.  I kept close to him always, apparently to the point of
suffocation.  Eventually, he asked for space, saying he wanted to be alone
- a devastating blow as now I found myself being forsaken.

Finally, mercifully, Branson received his final
diagnosis.  Only I remained stoic.  As the report findings were
disclosed, I remained dry eyed.  Numbness had taken
over.    

I gave up completing schoolwork, as I had no
regard for my future endeavors.  My grades dropped and I skipped more
classes than I attended.  Lost in a sea of my own pain, I was unable to
provide any solace to my parents or my brother.  I moved through the days
as a ghost, transparent and unnoticed.