Page 10 of Everything We Give

He shuffled into the kitchen on his way upstairs. The room smelled of molding bread and sour milk. An opened carton of half-and-half sat on the counter, forgotten. Beside it, his mom’s planner lay open to Sunday. Yesterday.

If the heels on hardwood last night hadn’t already confirmed it, the planner opened to the wrong date did. Jackie had been the one who came home last night. Ian guessed she was also the one who woke up this morning. His mom must have shifted back to Sarah earlier today. She’d have twenty-four hours of lost memories from the time Jackie was dominant, and no awareness that the date had changed.

Ian flipped the page in the planner. On the line by five p.m., his mom had penciled CHEERSWEATERS DUE TOCOACHTAMMYPENROSE. A phone number followed. He left the planner on Monday, then opened the fridge. Fermenting vegetables assaulted his nose. His nostrils twitched and he pinched his nose to stop the sneeze. He grabbed the plated ham sandwich and went upstairs, passing his dad’s home office on the way to his room.

He stopped and backed up a few steps.

Pinned to the bulletin board beside the desk was a Kansas City Chiefs calendar opened to October. RedXs crossed off the days through the seventeenth. Last Thursday, the day his dad left to photograph the Chiefs game against the Saints. He’d be home late tonight.

An idea formed in his head like an image revealed on instant Polaroid film. Dropping his pack, he set down the sandwich and sat at the desk. He opened drawers, removing paper, a ruler, and pencil. He drew a grid that mimicked the calendar, writingOCTOBERat the top. He added a few more details, then returned downstairs.

In the kitchen, his mom hung up the phone. “Mrs.Penrose gave me an extra day to finish. I have to work late tonight so we’ll eat early.” She filled a pot with water, intermittently dabbing the corners of her eyes.

“Don’t be sad, Mom. You know how you sometimes forget what day it is?” Ian tacked his makeshift calendar to the fridge door with a magnet.

“What is that?” she asked.

“A calendar. Mrs.Rivers makes us cross out the days in our school planners so we know what day it is. Dad does it, too.”

His mom traced Sunday’s bold redX, then made a fist, hiding her finger. She brought her hand to her chest.

“I’ll cross out the days on this calendar. That way you’ll know what day it is and you can cross them off on your calendar.” Ian pointed at the Monday, October 21, square, then tapped the same box on his mom’s planner.

His mom looked at him. Her eyes welled.

Ian glanced away, fixing his eyes on the dishes left from breakfast still on the kitchen table. He’d upset her. She didn’t like his idea. “I’ll take it down.” He reached for the magnet.

“No. Don’t.” She touched his shoulder.

Tears burned his eyes. He pressed his mouth flat. He scratched his head, then folded his arms tightly over his chest.

“I’m sorry I left you alone last night. I’m sorry I keep making mistakes. I’m so sorry.”

His mouth twitched. He clamped his lips tighter, holding in the sob. His mom always apologized. He hated how she forgot things. He wished she could be normal like the other moms.

His mom cupped his jaw, forcing Ian to look up at her. He noticed that her cheeks were blotchy and her nose red. “I’m sorry I didn’t make you breakfast,” she said.

“It’s OK.”

“No, it’s not.” His mom lowered to her knees and clutched his shoulders. “I should have seen you off to school. The thought of you waiting alone for the bus ...” She inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Ian was used to feeling alone, something else he hated. He flicked the calendar. The corner caught under his thumbnail. He pressed against the paper’s edge until the tender nail bed burned. “What time will Dad be home?”

“Late, after you’re in bed. Do you wish he was home more often?”

Ian nodded, his attention on the spot of blood blooming under his thumbnail. He wouldn’t feel as lonely if his dad didn’t travel as much. But he had to work. Medical bills had to be paid and mouths fed.

Ian could feel his mom watching him, but he couldn’t look at her. He’d cry and that would upset her. It might make her shift and forget again. The pain of the paper cut helped keep the tears from falling.

“I’m doing my best to take care of you. You know that.”

He slowly nodded even though he didn’t always feel like his mom did her best. How could she? With hours, even days, missing from her life, the constant shifting from her to Jackie, Ian felt like he spent more time caring for her. If only she could be normal like other moms. He wouldn’t feel so worried all the time.

CHAPTER 4

IAN

Aimee keeps her gaze averted, staring out her side of the front window as I drive back to Los Gatos. She’s quiet and feels farther away than the cup holders that separate us. I bet I could touch the wall she’s erected were I to reach for her.

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