Switching Gears Page 4

  I shake my head. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

  “I think I can handle using a phone. And my dad has towing cables, so we’re fine.”

  He frowns, puts his phone away, and takes a step toward me. I can’t read the look on his face. “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Snap at me like that. When are you going to realize I’m not your enemy?”

  I fold my arms and refuse to answer. I don’t know. The fact that he took captain from me is a big deal. Not to mention, his bike is seriously worth way more than my bike and my car put together, which isn’t hard, but still. He’s all about money. If he can get the most expensive equipment, then he’ll get all the sponsors. I know it’s a stupid reason not to like someone, but I can’t get over it.

  “Thanks for the ride,” is all I say.

  “No problem.” He takes a step back, and his expression is curious as he searches my face.

  “What?”

  “No more sarcasm? Really? You’ve been on a roll tonight.”

  I try to come up with something, but fail. “Well, fortunately for you, I’ve run out.”

  “Good news for me.” He still stares, a smile creeping in as he tries to figure me out, I think. After a moment, he turns around and heads back toward his truck. He calls over his shoulder as he opens the door, “Later, Marty.”

  And just like that, my weird, confusing feelings evaporate. I’m still just Marty. Nothing more. I grab my bike. “Bye.” I feel his eyes on me as I walk away and several thoughts fly through my head.

  Stupid car. Stupid race. Stupid Cole. Stupid nickname.

  CHAPTER 4

  When my alarm blasts in my ear the next morning, I turn it off and make myself get out of bed. Most people would hit the snooze button, but I don’t. The snooze button teases you with the notion of giving you a few more minutes of sleep, but then wakes you up five minutes later with no apologies.

  I tend to avoid it at all costs. I don’t like technology playing with my feelings like that.

  Only when I’m halfway across the room do I remember it’s Sunday. Which makes me wonder why the heck I set my alarm to wake me up so early in the first place.

  Determined not to get up early, I get back in bed and snuggle in my covers again to try to go back to sleep. I give up after ten minutes. Unfortunately, I take after Dad. Once I’m awake, I’m awake for the rest of the day.

  I drag my feet up the stairs, heeding the call of my growling stomach, to grab something for breakfast. I’m not surprised to see Dad in the kitchen eating Cheerios in his pajamas. His dark hair is kind of crazy and he’s wearing his glasses on the edge of his nose while looking at yesterday’s paper.

  “Hey, Bug.”

  I roll my eyes. “Dad. No.” He’s called me that nickname ever since I was a kid, and no matter how many times I tell him not to, he does it anyway.

  He takes a bite and looks at me thoughtfully as he chews. “Why are you up so early this morning? It’s summer. You should be sleeping until ten like a normal teenager.”

  I smile. “Sometimes I wish I didn’t have your genes.”

  He chuckles as he moves his spoon around in his bowl to get the last remaining Cheerios before looking up at me again. “You want to join me? There’s plenty of cereal left.”

  I wrinkle my nose as he lifts the bowl to his lips to drink the milk. “I don’t do Cheerios.” Or drink leftover cereal milk. Gross.

  He sets his bowl down and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “I know.” He gives me a wink and stands to put his bowl in the sink. Once he’s done, he looks at me again. “Hey. You okay? I mean, with everything that happened with Lucas …”

  “I’m fine,” I say a little too quickly. By the look he’s giving me, he knows I’m not fine at all.

  “If you need anything, let me know.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Dad.” A sliver of light comes through the curtains and I peek through them. It’s going to be a beautiful day. A little chilly this morning maybe, but nice. “Actually, I was wondering if I could borrow your car.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to get a quick ride in this morning.”

  “You just went riding yesterday. Which, by the way, since we had to go get your car last night, I didn’t get to bed until one.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry about that. Maybe you can just get me a new car?”

  He frowns. “Nice try.”

  “Hey, it doesn’t hurt to ask.” I grin. “Please let me go. It will be a quick one, Dad. I promise.

  “Emmy … Sunday’s are family days.”

  Like we ever really do things together on Sunday. “I’ll be back before Mom and Gavin wake up and we can do something then.” I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet, itching to go outside before it gets too hot.

  He stares at me a moment, leans against the counter, and rubs his hand over his face. I didn’t notice before now, but he looks really tired. “Actually, your mother is already awake.”

  I give him a weird look. “Really?” Mom is notorious for sleeping in on the weekends. She’s not someone I would call a morning person. Ever.

  “We couldn’t really sleep last night.” He frowns and stares at nothing for a second before looking up at me again. “You know, why don’t you go wake Gavin? We need to … have a chat with you guys.”

  “Really? You want me to wake Gavin up? This early?”

  He smiles. “You can handle it. It will be good for him to get up early anyway.”

  “Okay …?” I frown as I walk down the hall to Gavin’s room. Something’s going on. There’s no way Dad would ever have me wake Gavin this early unless something’s wrong. Did someone die? Grandma? One of the neighbors? He seemed a little anxious, but not upset. Maybe we’re moving or something?

  I don’t bother knocking on Gavin’s door, just let myself in. He’s twisted in his blankets on the far side of his bed, his mouth open and drooling on his pillow. I can’t really tell if he’s drooling, but it wouldn’t surprise me. I’m sure he’s in his underwear under those blankets, so I avoid moving them at all costs.

  I decide to be nice instead of jump on him, so I push his shoulder a few times. “Hey. Gav. Dad wants you up.”

  He rolls over, pulling the blankets with him. “Go away.”

  “Wow. That easy, huh? I was thinking of going to get a bucket of ice water to wake you up.”

  He frowns, his eyes still closed. “You’d regret it.”

  “Probably. Now get out of bed.” I smack him on his bare back and he flinches. “Mom and Dad want to talk to us for some reason.”

  He yawns and opens one eye. “Do you even know what time it is? Or what day? I’m supposed to sleep in on Sundays.”

  “Of course I do. Now quit being lazy and get up.”

  He mutters a curse under his breath and wraps his blanket tight around him. Thank goodness. As he follows me out of the room, I can’t help but smirk at how sweet his blanket cuddling is.

  I glance over my shoulder at him and stick out my bottom lip. “Can’t go anywhere without your wittle bwanky?”

  He grumbles something I can’t understand under his breath.

  “Now who’s the third-grader?” I add.

  “Shut up.”

  We walk into the front room where Mom and Dad are already sitting on the couch. Gavin plops down on the floor and ends up on his side, half asleep and looking like a rolled-up burrito. His face is flat on the carpet and I wonder if there’s any possible way he can be comfortable there. I step around him and sit in the chair, wishing I had a blanket. It’s chilly this morning. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around my bare legs.

  Dad’s holding Mom’s hand. She still in her pajamas, her hair pulled in a ponytail. She looks exhausted and I wonder why she doesn’t go back to bed. She’s obviously not getting enough sleep. Whatever they want to talk to us about must be pretty important.

  “So?” I say, breaking the t
ension in the room. “What’s up?”

  Dad glances at Mom and she nods. “We … uh … I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Start at the beginning then.” Isn’t that where you’re always supposed to start when you tell someone something? And in this case, it’s something big. I can see it in Dad’s eyes. The nervous way they look at each other.

  He glances at Mom again before he continues. “About six months ago, your mother started having some … symptoms. I don’t know if you two have noticed, but she’s been forgetful lately.”

  I remember the cookies, so I nod. And I guess there was that one time she forgot to pick me up at school a few months ago, but that wasn’t too weird. I caught a ride home with Kelsie, so it wasn’t a big deal.

  “Well, one incident about three months ago finally made us go to the doctor to get it checked out.”

  “What happened?” I ask, glaring at Gavin, who’s practically snoring on the floor. I kick him in the side, expecting him to yell at me, but all he does is turn over.

  “She mixed up some medication at the pharmacy.” My eyes widen. “Everything’s fine, they got it figured out, but it could have been very bad for both parties involved.” He gives Mom a small smile and squeezes her hand. “The doctors did some tests, and we’ve … well, we’ve known the results for a while.”

  “What? You’ve kept this from us for months? Why?”

  “We didn’t want you guys to worry. We weren’t sure how bad it was. And at first, it wasn’t bad. And as we think back now, she’s had some of the symptoms even longer than six months.”

  I don’t notice how tense I am until that moment. I adjust my position in the chair, letting my feet down to the floor, but still sit on the edge of my seat. “So, what’s wrong?”

  The worst possible things go through my mind. Cancer. Heart failure. Lung disease. Stroke. By the way Dad’s looking at us, it’s bad. But nothing prepares me for what he says.

  He hesitates only a second before speaking again. “Mom has been diagnosed with early Alzheimer’s Disease.”

  It’s quiet. Dead silent. No one moves, no one speaks. I can’t even think, let alone say something, and it takes me a few minutes to do just that.

  Dad keeps talking, but I can’t understand anything he’s saying.

  I open my mouth and close it and he stops talking and looks over at me.

  “Emmy? Are you okay?”

  “Alzheimer’s? But … she’s so young!” That can’t be possible. Alzheimer’s is for old people. Like my grandparents. And they don’t even have it. How could Mom have it? It’s not possible. I don’t believe it.

  He smiles. “I know. It is uncommon for someone her age, but not unheard of.”

  I look down at Gavin. His eyes are open and he sits up, but doesn’t say a word. Just stares at the floor. For some reason I want to punch him. Make him do the talking instead of me, since every time I try to say something, emotion threatens to tear me open and let me bleed all over the floor.

  Dad’s watching me, concern etching his features. “We have some medication we’re going to start, so that can alleviate some of the symptoms, but we do have to be careful. She’s been in the early stage for a while now, but some of her symptoms are progressing into the middle stage, or moderate Alzheimer’s. She’s had some trouble remembering things, forgets where she is sometimes … we need to work as a family to protect her and make sure she’s safe at all times.”

  I glance at Mom as a tear slides down her cheek and know I’m about to lose it.

  She gives us both a shaky smile, all the while wringing her hands in her lap. Something I’d never seen her do before. She was never twitchy or nervous like that. “I’m going to be fine, you guys. They said the full effects of the disease may take a long time. Years and years. Don’t worry, okay? I’m okay. If I do something out of the ordinary, talk to me. Bring me back. I know who you are and I won’t forget you.” She looks at me then, like she’s talking to only me.

  “You didn’t tell us,” I whisper. I’m hurt. Betrayed. My parents knew about this for months and never said anything? How could they do that?

  “Honey,” she says. “I didn’t want you to worry. I still don’t. I’m still your mom. I love you both too much to—”

  “You kept this from us for six months?” I can’t believe it. I thought we were a close family. We don’t keep secrets like that. Why would they start now? What happened to break our family trust? Did I do something wrong? Did Gavin?

  She sits up straighter and focuses on me. “We wanted it to be the right time when we told you. But there’s not really a right time for something like this.” She twists her hands in her lap, over and over and over.

  I stare at them. I want to reach out and grab them, hold them still. “You could have told us right when you found out.” I’m shaking. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to think. I don’t know what to say to them. I can’t even look at them. Especially Mom. All I know is that I need to get out of here. Now.

  “I need to get some air.” I stand and almost trip over Gavin’s legs. I gather my bearings and walk past my parents, even as Dad protests. I run to the back door. I fling it open and hear it slam behind me as I run down the back porch steps and into the yard. I’m not sure where to go, so I run to the edge of the yard, sit down in the grass, and stare at nothing, breathing hard.

  My body’s still shaking. I’m fuming. Confused. Hurt. All my emotions are strung up in a knot in my chest and I can feel my heart breaking to pieces. I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know what to do with it, so I sit there and shake.

  The back door slams and someone heads across the grass toward me. It’s Dad. I can tell by the way he walks. His right foot stepping harder than his left because of an old injury from his teen years. He hesitates only a second before he kneels down next to me and doesn’t say a word. I feel his hand on my back and even though I try to fight it, try to ignore the fact that he’s trying to comfort me, the tears come anyway. He puts his other hand on my arm and tugs. I only resist a moment before he pulls me into his chest and I sob like a little baby.

  “It’s okay, Bug.” He strokes my hair and hugs me tighter. “It’s going to be okay.”

  I don’t answer. All I can do is continue to sob until I manage to get control of myself again. “How do you know? How do you know it’s going to be okay?”

  “I just do.”

  I pull away and look into his eyes. Dad has always been so strong. So wise. A perfect example of what a father should be. But in those eyes, I see doubt. I see the pain hiding underneath the surface. The reality of Mom losing her mind in the literal sense is hurting him, too.

  “She’s going to change. She won’t be herself anymore.” My mom. “She’s going to forget us. Forget … me.” The one person I can always count on for advice about anything. She’s slipping away and I had no idea. I wonder how much she’s already forgotten these first six months she’s had this stupid disease. I admit I don’t know a lot about it, but what I do know makes me shudder. People don’t remember their own family members. Their spouses. Kids. No one. Sometimes not even their own names. I don’t even realize I’m shaking my head until Dad grabs my hand, drawing my concentration to him again. “What am I going to do? What are you going to do?” I can’t stop talking now. Even though I wish I’d just shut up. “What are we going to do, Daddy?”

  His blue eyes swim with emotion and he squeezes my hand. “We’re going to support your mother and treat her like we did before we found out about this. She’s still here. She’s fine. She understands what’s going on, so we need to be here for her every step of the way when things start changing.”

  “She’s never going to be the same, is she?”

  Dad gets very serious and looks me straight in the eye. “No matter what happens with your mother, she’ll always be the woman I fell in love with.” He puts a hand on his heart. “Always.”

  CHAPTER 5

  After talking to Dad, I retreat to the
garage to work on one of my fixer-upper bikes. I need to clear my head. Do something instead of think and worry about Mom. The reality of it all is too much for me to handle right now. I can’t accept it. Not yet. Maybe the doctor made a mistake.

  First Lucas, now this? Why? Why is this happening to me?

  I grab my hairspray bottle and spray a stream of it onto the bike’s bare handlebar to attach the new grips I bought. I slide the right one on and then the left, making sure they’re where I want them. I wheel the bike to the backyard and let it sit in the sun for a while. Hopefully they’ll be good and dry by the time I get back from my ride.

  After the events of this morning, I have to go for a ride. I don’t want to sit around and sulk the rest of the day, and I’m kind of looking forward to getting away from my family for a while. Think about happy stuff. Avoid all thoughts of Lucas and especially Mom.

  Right.

  I run downstairs and change into my biking gear, taking extra caution to avoid Mom. I know she’ll want to talk, but I’m not ready. She’ll understand. I hope.

  I sneak back upstairs, notice my stomach rumble, and grab an apple from the kitchen before I head back outside.

  “I’m going for a ride,” I yell, hoping someone heard me. If not, oh well. I already told Dad I was going riding earlier.

  Thoughts from the morning’s conversation come rushing back in as I put my gear in Dad’s car, and my eyes water as I hook my bike up to my spare bike rack. The fact that my parents didn’t tell me about Mom for six whole months makes me so … mad. I don’t understand why they kept it from me. Or Gavin. I’d never keep something like that from them. There was a reason they did, I’m sure, but even if they tell me that reason it won’t take away the hurt.

  We’re family. Why keep life-changing things from family? We’re supposed to be there for each other to help get through things. Obviously my parents feel differently.

  My hands hurt from working on my bike, but I shake it off and get in the car anyway. I try to tell myself to enjoy the mountain and not worry about anything else. Block out the crap life throws at me and I’ll be happier. Pretend everything’s fine, even when it’s not.