The Term Sheet | Wattys 2016 Winner

Chapter 4

"Sophia, I don't know what you want me to do. You don't know how hard it is to get a job out there, you have no idea. You will though, oh boy will you ever. You'll see. You will all see."

These words were ingrained in David's memory, chiseled as if on a tombstone. They were the last words his dad—Richard Alexander (his friends called him Dick)—said before walking out on his family. Dick was a car mechanic who spent more time at the horse track than he did with his family.

David grew up in Springwood, a small mobile home park outside of Beaverton, one of Portland's biggest suburbs. It was a clean place to live with an odd mix of old hippies, cat ladies and disabled veterans. Richard and Sophia were the only family with young children.

"Davie, don't worry, we'll figure it out. We always do. We always will."

When Dick left, Sophia hadn't had a full-time job in nearly twelve years. She had done a little subbing on and off at Highland Park Middle School, but the pay was pocket change. She used to spend it all on carnival rides for the kids at Oaks Park. David never knew that rent was past due or where the food came from. Sophia got a job cleaning hotel rooms at the Embassy Suites and within a few years, she was able to move the family into a small apartment a few miles from school.

At thirteen, David became the man of the house. The day he turned fifteen, he got his driver's permit. Even though he wasn't legally allowed to drive without an adult yet, he often drove Heather to school and occasionally to the doctor too.

"Aren't you a little young to be here without your mom?" said the receptionist.

David's heart skipped a beat and then sped up to try to make up for it. His stomach cramped.

"Of course. Mom's just downstairs at the OB-GYN. What's an OB-GYN anyways?" asked David. He knew the question would shut down the line of inquiry fast, but he still didn't know the answer.

Lying to adults made him feel big inside. When he drove past a police car, the thrill was nearly unbearable. He would stare in the rearview mirror waiting to see if the lights would turn on. But under all the excitement was an empty feeling. And as driving became more like a chore than a rebellious act, the thin veil of thrill disappeared.

"Hey Davie." Sophia had just come home from working a double shift. "How was school?" It was dark outside and David was finishing his math homework at the kitchen table. Heather was asleep. David didn't look up from his work.

"Okay."

"What do you mean okay? You might be big enough to drive, but you're still my little boy."

"Yeah, love you too," he said absently.

From the corner of his eye, he could see his mom's sadness. But he had a big test the next day that he wasn't ready for and it was cram time. Sophia slipped off her shoes and put on her kitchen gloves. She began washing a full sink of dishes quietly. When she finished, David still had his nose in his book.

"Davie."

He looked up from his book with an annoyed frown.

"I know you do a lot for us. More than any kid your age should have to. But promise me you will always take care of your sister. She thinks she is stronger than she is. I worry about her. I worry she is going to get in trouble and I won't be around to take care of her."

"Sure."

"No, I need you to swear to me you will always be there for your sister."

"Okay fine, I swear. Can I get back to studying now?"

"Yes. I do love you."

David bowed his head and closed his eyes, as if he were about to pray. His mother came in and gently kissed him on the forehead. The warmth David felt inside grew, and he knew beyond a shadow of doubt that everything would be okay.

Sophia died the year David turned nineteen. Heather was only seventeen. Sophia had gone to the hospital three days after her stomach started hurting. The doctors successfully removed her appendix, but she got an infection. For the first time in his life, David did not have a plan.

Davie, don't worry, we'll figure it out. We always do. We always will.

"Someone at the funeral told me that Zen philosophers say you can never step into the same river twice."

"Dave, I am sorry to inform you that I think we disproved that a few times already this morning."

David and Andrew were fishing on the Washington side of the Columbia Gorge, just past Multnomah Falls.

"I think he was trying to tell me to move on or something. Jesus, can't people just give me some space?"

Neither of them said anything for a long time after that. They hadn't caught any fish that morning. Andrew had flown back from college for spring break to hang out with David and give him his support.

"Dude, you know I could keep camping and fishing with you for weeks, but don't you have to check on your sister or something?"

"Heather can take care of herself. We don't need help. And I definitely don't need anyone telling me what to do."

"But didn't she fall last week?"

"Yeah, but she's a trooper. She got her driver's license and doesn't need me driving her around anymore. She might have needed me when we were younger, but she is seventeen now, she's basically an adult. Can you get off it, mom?"

"Fine, jeez, just checking. Want to try another spot? I think this part of the river is dead."

David wondered about Heather's muscular dystrophy. It hadn't flared up for years now, but she had been falling more frequently since their mother died. Last week, she fell halfway down the concrete stairs leading to their second-floor apartment. Her bruises were always worse than regular people's bruises. The muscles were progressively loosening their grip on her bones.

David had caught Heather hiding bruises from him. She wore long-sleeved baggy sweaters and long loose pants. She tried to hide her pain too. She thought she did a good job, but he knew that when she smiled from the left side of her face, it wasn't a smile of happiness. Her pretty blue eyes and soft features fooled most people, but not David.

* * *

"I'm going to Seattle," said Heather. "See you when I see you."

"Heather, wait. I don't want you to go out, you've been going out too much lately."

"I'm fine. What do you care anyhow? You disappeared for a week and didn't tell me you were going."

"Now that Mom's gone, I'm in charge. I don't want you going out tonight."

"Bro, I love you, you know I love you, but don't act like you are in charge, it doesn't suit you. Go shoot pool with Andy or something. In a year, I'll be in college and you won't be able to stop me from going out then. I'll see you tomorrow."

As Heather turned to grab her purse, she winced and smiled with half her face and sat down again.

"Mom left me in charge," said David, surprised by his insistent tone. "She made me promise to take care of you. You are not allowed to leave. That's final."

David turned back to his computer, resuming his search for the bug in his code. He heard the slam of the front door.

She'll be fine.

* * *

"Heather. Heather. Hey sis. Hello."

Heather's eyes opened slowly. She was lying in a hospital bed. She tried to respond but her lips wouldn't move. Her hips, thighs and stomach were wrapped tightly with a wide bandage. Her eyes were tired and bloodshot.

"I know you can't talk, the doctors have you on all sorts of medicine and they say your lactic acid levels are through the roof. You are in the middle of an acute muscular attack. I should have known better, I should have noticed. I am so sorry, Heather. I..."

He trailed off, bowing his head and staring at the floor. He sat silently. Heather fell asleep.