Dana's Valley Part 13

The youth were already gathering. They seemed excited and challenged about being called to pray. I wasn't feeling that way at all. I guess I got off easier than I should have, though. Everyone seemed to think that my212.long face and slumped shoulders were because of Dana. And they were, in a way, but my resolve not to believe that G.o.d loved me or sought to do anything on my behalf was what really made me sullen.

We started off by singing several praise choruses. Normally I liked to sing, but the words didn't come easily now. Interspersed among the songs were little sermonettes and reminders from our youth pastor-things about the greatness of G.o.d and the power of prayer and all that. I tried not to listen, but I couldn't help but hear. After about half an hour we went to a prayer time. One after the other of the youth group prayed for Dana-that she would be healed, that it would happen quickly. That she wouldn't have as much sickness with the chemo as she'd had before. That she would continue to have her faith strengthened, even in the midst of her pain and suffering. They prayed for the rest of the family too. Even for Brett. Maybe especially for Brett. The youth pastor even dared to wonder if G.o.d may have allowed Dana's illness to bring Brett back to Him. It made me angry with G.o.d all over again. Why take it out on Dana just because Brett was being dumb? Besides, I reasoned, if it hadn't been for Dana's illness, Brett would still be fine.

Yet deep in my heart I was glad they were praying. Surely-surely G.o.d would listen with so many people bringing sincere requests. Maybe He wouldn't even notice that I was stubbornly refusing to join in.

After the prayer session, in which I had not said one word, we took a break. We went down to the church kitchen, where Mrs. Fallen had snacks set out for us. Then it was back upstairs. We started with singing again. Then we switched to giving testimonies. That went on for some time. I sat numbly and listened to the voices bounceDANA S Valley * 213around me. I purposely tried not to understand the words. Then the pastor was speaking directly to me.

"Erin." I think he had to say my name a second time before he caught my attention.

"Erin, would you like to share your feelings with us?"

I didn't.

The words that I wanted to say, I would never have dared. I could have said, Yes, I feel like I'd like to go home. Put an end to this farce.

"How can we better pray for you?" our youth pastor persisted.

I didn't think I cared how they prayed. But just as I looked up, I saw Graham. He was looking directly at me, and there was such care and pain in his eyes. I lowered my head and tried hard to sort out my confusion. Our friendship had become very special to me. I couldn't let Graham know what I was thinking. How I was feeling. How angry I was with G.o.d. I just couldn't-Graham would never speak to me again.

The whole group seemed to interpret my struggle as being part of my grieving over Dana. It made me feel even more of a hypocrite. But I used it. I looked up and brushed away at make-believe tears. I let my voice drop low and broken and said, "It's . . . it's so hard to explain. I can't even put it into words."

The words were true. The message was not. Girls started to cry and boys shifted uneasily. Graham even crossed over beside me and put his arm around my shoulder. It wasn't really a boy-girl hug-just the comfort of a friend. Still, it was heady. I was very conscious of the fact that he was pulling me up close against his side while the whole youth group looked on in silent sympathy. They started to pray again, and this time I was mentioned in214.their prayers just as much as Dana. I took a deep breath. It was going to be one long, long night.& & &.Mom and Dad left for the cancer treatment center with Dana. Grandma Walsh-no, Grandma Paulsen, I needed to remember-came to stay with us. Of course she brought her new husband with her. They were staying in my parents' room. He was very nice to us-but mostly he just sort of stayed out of the way.

Dad kept us in touch through phone calls. Mom even talked with us a few times. Dana was not doing well. The scans and probes and all the stuff they were doing to her already had her sick. I didn't ask any questions. I really didn't want to know.

The only thing that really kept me going was the fact that school was almost over and summer break was ahead. I knew Mom would be busy and that my summer activities would have to be accomplished without her available to drive me anywhere. I also knew that Brett would virtually disappear again, especially once he'd graduated from high school. But Corey and I could enjoy each other. I determined in my heart not to think about the cancer treatments this time.

On the day of Brett's eighteenth birthday, Dana, Mom, and Dad were all away. I quizzed Corey about what Brett might like to do, and we decided to take him miniature golfing. We secretly invited Travis and Graham to meet us at the little golf course at seven in the evening. 1 had to tell Brett part of our plans to be sure he'd beDANA S Valley * 215there. In fact, I reminded him twice. His reply was barely audible.

We waited for him for half an hour before accepting the fact that he hadn't bothered to come. Corey wanted to wait longer, but I knew in my heart the whole idea had flopped. Travis and Graham gamely tried to cover the awkwardness and offered to do a round anyway, but my heart wasn't in it. I tried to imagine whether or not I'd have done the same thing in his place. But I don't think I would have been able to disappoint Corey. His tears nearly broke my heart.& &.I listened only halfheartedly when Dad called to update us about Dana's condition. She had stayed longer at the treatment center this time-there being some kind of complications. Mom had quit trying to explain it all to me, and Dad seemed resigned to let me back away.

Just before Dana's expected arrival home, Dad rearranged some of the rooms. Her bed was placed in the bedroom of Grandma's former suite and a futon was purchased for the sitting room. I presumed that this was for Mom to use on the nights she was needed near Dana. I wondered if anyone knew that Dana requested to stay with me. I chose not to offer the information. Even though I felt bad about reneging on my promise, I was grateful that another arrangement had been made.

Brett helped Dad move the furniture, but he didn't talk much. I figured he had hoped the suite would be given to him. They were huffing and puffing to get the216.futon frame through the doorway when it occurred to me that I could make an offer.

"Dad, what if Corey moved in with me, and then Brett could have his old room back."

The furniture paused midair, but Brett's answer came immediately from where he was hidden behind it. "No."

"But then you wouldn't have to be in the bas.e.m.e.nt anymore. Why not . . . ?"

"No." The frame lurched a little as Brett gave it another tug.

I turned to Dad. "Don't you think . . . ?"

My words were cut short by Dad's voice. "The decision is Brett's to make." I could read the uncertainty in his eyes. "Thanks for offering, Erin." Dad picked up his end of the futon and continued to heave it forward.

So I went back upstairs to gather the bedding. Dana's pretty blue comforter would now be separated from mine. I tried not to let it matter to me, but it didn't work. Something about the move didn't feel right.

When Dana finally returned home in July, she was emaciated and slow. Even her bones seemed to have shriveled. I tried not to show any outward emotion, but I'm afraid I cringed more than I wanted to as Dad helped her into the house. She smiled when she saw her new room and didn't mention the fact that we wouldn't be sharing. I hoped she didn't read between the lines and know I felt relieved.

In August, just before school was to begin again, Brett moved out. We'd come home from church, and I'd decided to take care of the stacks of clean laundry from the laundry room. There were only a few items of Brett's, but the trip downstairs revealed that everything else he owned had been cleared out-and he was gone.DANA S VALLEY 217.I stared for some time and then put the socks and change of underwear on the empty dresser. My heart sank. I couldn't pretend I hadn't noticed. I would have to go back upstairs and give the news to Mom. Brett wouldn't be the one to see the hurt in her eyes that his leaving would cause. No, it would be me. So many things fell to me. It wasn't fair. I wondered where he would live. And then I just didn't care.

I tried to hide that fact when I brought the news to Mom. She was seated at the kitchen table thumbing through a recipe book, but she didn't look as though she were really studying the recipes. She had a far-off look in her eyes and a tired slump to her shoulders. I just hated to add to the burden she already carried.

"Mom," I said, trying hard to keep my voice even. "Brett's gone."

By the panic that came quickly to Mom's eyes, I knew I hadn't chosen my words too well. "What do you mean?"

"All his stuff is gone."

She was up off her chair and down to the bas.e.m.e.nt before I could even turn around. I didn't know whether to follow or to stay put. Before I could make up my mind, Dad came in, the newspaper in his hand.

"Where's Mom?" he asked, noticing the open recipe book on the table. I'm sure he thought it must be something to do with Dana again.

"In the bas.e.m.e.nt." I wondered if I should say more. At length I did. I figured Dad could handle it. "Brett's gone."

"Gone? Gone where?" For just a second Dad's face reminded me of Corey when he came to our room in a thunderstorm.

I shrugged my shoulders, but I don't think he saw it.218.He was already heading for the stairs.

As I stood alone in the kitchen, I labored through all the ways Brett's leaving would affect us. Then I found myself thinking of Corey. He would be devastated. He would take it as personal rejection. I allowed myself to loathe Brett for his selfishness, even while I knew I was becoming increasingly tempted to follow him away from the gloom and chaos and pain of our home.

They were gone for a long time. When they did reappear, I could tell that Mom had been crying and Dad didn't look much better. It made my anger at Brett even more intense. Why did he do this to them? Why now?

I was about to blurt out something about Brett's selfishness, which I'm sure would not have helped the situation, when I noticed Mom was carrying a rather crumpled bit of paper. She lowered herself slowly into the kitchen chair again and pushed the recipe book aside. "He left a note," she said, seeming to imply that it was terribly considerate of him. "He's found a little apartment in town. Closer to his work."

I wondered momentarily if my parents were buying that excuse. I certainly wasn't.

"It's on Maple Street-in that little apartment block."

I knew the building. It wasn't the fanciest place in town. But I sensed that Mom was pleased Brett had chosen to go back to our old neighborhood.

"Number 112,," Mom went on. All the time she talked, her fingers kept smoothing out the piece of paper. "He doesn't have a phone yet, but he'll let us know. . . ."

"You gonna let him stay?"

Dad had just been sitting in the chair beside Mom rubbing his two palms together. He was staring at his hands, but his eyes weren't really focused on them. HisDANA S Valley * 219head came up when I spoke. He just nodded. It was Mom who answered me.

"Brett is going through a tough time right now. Maybe it's best that he has a bit of s.p.a.ce. At any rate, it might only make him more . . ." Mom hesitated, probably searching for a word that would describe Brett's att.i.tude without branding him a rebel. "... more upset," she finally continued, "if we put pressure on him to come back right now. He's having a difficult time growing up and dealing with a sick sister-all at once."

"But his friends," I interrupted. "He sure hasn't picked ..." I choose a different tack. "They aren't that good for him. They might-"

Mom stopped me. Her shoulders fell, then lifted, but when she looked up she looked a.s.sured, even though fresh tears glistened in the corners of her eyes.

"Erin . . . there comes a time when as parents we have done all we can do. The Bible says to train up a child in the way he should go. We've done that ... to the best of our ability. G.o.d knows that. Now . . . now we have to trust. Just trust. We don't like what is happening in Brett's life right now, but we can't force him to make good choices. We can just continue to pray that he will know how much we love him . . . how much G.o.d loves him and . . . and decide ... to make the right choices himself. We need to have faith. In G.o.d. In our teaching. And in our son."

Dad reached out and clasped Mom's hand. "Brett's a good kid at heart. He has so many qualities we're proud of. And remember, he still has much of G.o.d's Word hidden in his heart, Erin. That's powerful stuff. And, as your mother said, G.o.d still loves him. Satan hasn't won yet. Not by a long way.

> >.220.I think, by their words, they were encouraging each other. Mom sort of leaned up against Dad's shoulder and even managed a bit of a smile. I just shook my head. I guess at the moment I would have been happy to see Brett suffer a bit. That wasn't the way they seemed to feel. Way down deep inside I guess I felt good about it. Unconditional love was something to really hang on to.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

with Dana at home again, the only time I could really forget her suffering and just be a teenager was at school. And as cla.s.ses began, I threw myself into my studies. It was a chance to get out of the house and feel alive. My grades soared, and I became more involved in other activities besides basketball. Now that I knew many of my cla.s.smates well, it was easy to make arrangements for someone else to stop by and pick me up for school events. It made me feel independent and in control. Things that I hadn't felt for a very long time. And Corey was back in Mom's care. That gave me mixed feelings because, in addition to this energetic third grader, she had Dana to nurse. But I tried hard to set those feelings aside. I was more and more repelled by the morbidity that seemed to hang over our home, and I had twinges of guilt for leaving Corey there.

One of my ninth-grade teachers took me aside one day and suggested that I get involved in the school newspaper. He said I might even try running for an office in our student government. He had nice things to say about222.my being a leader. I liked that. It was great to be looked at as special in some way.

But near the end of September, Dana went back to the cancer center due to more complications she'd experienced, and I let the whole idea of student government go. I let all the other extra things go too. How could I be a leader at school when I never knew when I'd be needed at home to help with Corey, or keep up with laundry, or cook our meals, or other responsibilities? With Mom gone and Grandma not there, I knew enough not to bother to ask if I could be absent as well.

Basketball, though, was something I couldn't possibly give up. The season started again, and Graham came to all the games. I guess I was more conscious of the fact that he was there than I would have liked to be. Occasionally I could hear his voice over the noise of the crowd, cheering me on. Sometimes, if the game didn't go too late, we went out for a c.o.ke with a group of other kids before I caught my ride home. It sort of made up for the fact that Dad and Mom were hardly ever able to be there. I didn't miss them nearly as much anymore. Maybe I had just gotten used to it.

The team had a special meeting after one of our practices, and the school princ.i.p.al came down to talk to us. We couldn't believe what he had to say. Since our junior varsity team had been doing so well, the school had decided to enter us in an out-of-state tournament in two months' time. We would all be required to have our own spending money for meals and snacks and whatever else. The school would pay for transportation and lodging.

We were ecstatic. Never had we dreamed of such an opportunity. But even as we celebrated, I knew I'd never be able to ask Dad for the money. With everything thatDANA'S Valley * 223was going on with Dana, there would never be money for a basketball tournament. For a moment I felt really down . . . and angry. Too much was disappearing in my life. Too many things I'd had to give up.

And then a new idea dawned on me. I'd earn my own way. Surely Mom and Dad couldn't object to that. I'd take babysitting jobs, and I'd save every penny and still be able to go on that trip. At least it was something to look forward to.

But it was more difficult to manage both school and work than I had thought. True, Brett had managed a job, but he'd made little effort to keep up his grades. I wouldn't allow myself the same casual att.i.tude. But it wasn't to be worked out easily. I couldn't begin my cla.s.s a.s.signments until after my charges were settled for the night, so many nights I found myself still up at midnight completing homework a.s.signments.

The extra advantage of work was that it kept me away from home even more. Many nights when I was dropped off after sitting, I dreaded opening the door and going inside. I didn't want to hear the report of Dana's problems as relayed by Dad, and I didn't want to see Mom ragged and tired. The sleepless nights that Dana and Mom spent together were far enough away that it didn't waken the rest of us. I hated to admit such selfishness, but I had grown weary of all the nighttime noises and bustle.

I was aware, too, that I had become very distant. Dana was behind closed doors now, and it was far easier to shut her out of my life. True, I still, though at times reluctantly, gave up many of the privileges I could have experienced if she hadn't been ill, but that was no reason to withdraw from her. She was my sister, so I tried to visit224.her at least once a day when she was home, but I just couldn't bring myself to ask about how she was feeling.

Instead, I talked about school and games-even Graham. She asked a steady stream of questions when she was feeling well enough to talk with me, and I hoped it wasn't dreadfully wrong to be so self-centered in our conversations. It had become easier and easier for me to cover up my true feelings-the conflicted, desperate ones-and pretend that I was happy. The truth was, I cried often when I was alone in my bedroom.

I hated the feeling of being deceitful, but it seemed to be the only merciful thing to do. I couldn't be honest. That would only cause everyone more pain. So I feigned cheerfulness and helped out whenever I could. That made me feel a little better. But I wondered if Brett's road to decline had started out in the same way that I was allowing myself to go-bending the truth by pretending, and shutting out my family.

During the winter months Dana had begun to look far worse than she ever had before. Though I tried not to absorb the details of her situation, I did realize that her medical problems had escalated. She was experiencing almost constant fevers, sores, and nausea. She had also developed a horrid lung infection. I could hear her rattling cough from downstairs throughout the night, and I pressed my pillow over my head in an attempt to block it out. It never seemed to bother Corey-he slept soundly- at least he never came into my room during the night.

My meager bank account began to grow. I scrimped on all my expenditures, saving every little bit I could toward the trip with the basketball team. If only I would be able to save enough.

One night, long after he had been put to bed, CoreyDANA'S Valley * 225appeared at my elbow as I sat doing homework at the kitchen table. I pa.s.sed him some of the potato chips I'd been eating and chided him gently for getting up.

"I couldn't sleep. I just got thinking."

I stood to get him a gla.s.s of water, and he followed me to the sink. "What were you thinking about?" I asked.

"Misty told my cla.s.s that her grandma got cancer. I wish she didn't. It made me feel really bad for her."

"We know about cancer. Don't we, Corey?"

He nodded, not looking up. A moment pa.s.sed and then he spoke again. "Is Dana gonna die?"

The gla.s.s I was holding slipped into the sink and shattered. I left it where it lay and dropped down to eye level with Corey. "Why would you ask that?" My words sounded harsher than I had intended.

"Misty said her grandma is dying."

I swallowed the lump that was rising in my throat. "She probably has a different kind of cancer. I don't think it could be like Dana's." Tears were already welling in my eyes. It must have been obvious even to Corey that my words were shallow and empty.

"But she's sicker this time. I hear her. She coughs a lot. And she doesn't breathe good. I think she might be dying too." There were tears running down his cheeks.

I pulled him close and held him as tightly as I dared. All my thoughts were churning, wondering when it would ever end. How much longer would we have to face this disease? How many more of our growing-up years would be spoiled?

At last he pushed away from me. "Can I sit with you, Erin? I'll be real quiet."

"Of course. You can even get your pillow and a blanket, and I'll move my books into the living room. Then226.you can lie on the sofa. Okay?"

He nodded and headed back to his room. I was numb as I turned to clean up the broken gla.s.s from the sink.& & &.My parents were visibly pleased when I finally had enough money for the trip. Dad even slipped me a ten- "a little something extra." Our team had continued to have a winning season, and we seemed primed to sweep the finals. This invitational tournament would arrive just before we headed to the last games, and our coach had lectured us over and over again on the importance of taking it seriously, even though it wouldn't count for or against us on the season's record. Psychologically, he insisted, it was important that we win.

We were also told that we were to get extra sleep during the week before the tournament. I tried, but between my studies and my jobs, I found myself coming up short. On Thursday night, the last night before we were to leave, I had finally been able to get to bed early. I was hoping to make up for the time I'd lost during the week. Dana had been doing better. Mom was even back in her own bed, attempting to get some much needed rest.

In the middle of the night, I was startled awake. There had been a noise. A sound that had registered to my unconscious mind as being wrong-terribly wrong. I rushed to the door and pulled it open, searching the hallway in one direction and then another. But there was no one there. By now my adrenaline was pumping. I was certain I'd heard a sound. I moved softly toward the stairs.

Then I heard the sound again. It had come fromDANA S Valley * 227below-from Dana's rooms. Without pausing to wonder further, I called out to Dad and Mom and raced down the carpeted steps. For some reason, I knew without a doubt there was a problem. And I was afraid.

She was there, seated on the bathroom floor of the little suite, her arm bent at an odd angle and tucked against her. Her face was contorted in pain. I dropped down beside her and called to Dad again. He appeared in the doorway.

"What happened? Erin, what's wrong?"

"It's Dana's arm. It's bent wrong. I think it's broken. She must have fallen-but she won't talk to me."

Dad squeezed past me and bent down where he could see for himself. Dana still couldn't answer us. Her pain was too great. But we could both see clearly that her arm had been badly injured.

Mom arrived and then Corey. I stepped out of their way and back into the bedroom, trying to draw Corey away from the scene. Then Dad shouted out to me that I should call the ambulance, so I grabbed Corey's hand and dragged him along.

"My name is Erin Walsh. I live at I4-41 Walnut Lane. My sister fell in the bathroom and broke her arm. Please hurry.

The emergency operator did not understand. "Are your parents home with you?"

"Yes, they're with Dana, but they need help."

"Are they able to drive her to a medical clinic?"

"No. Please! You've got to send an ambulance. My sister has cancer-leukemia. She's very sick. You need to send someone right away. She doesn't even breathe well- and now with her arm, I'm not sure-"

The woman on the phone cut me off. "We'll send228.someone right away. I'm already sending the call through our system. Try to calm down so you can talk to me. Can you repeat your address please?"

I was grateful to hear that they'd come. "I441 Walnut Lane." I said it as slowly and clearly as my labored breathing would allow. "It's the house right at the end. You can't see it through the trees. Just follow the paved driveway. I can even stand on the road if you think it would help."

"No. No, wait in the house with your parents. What was your name again?"

"My name is Erin."