Callie's Sister

Chapter 21

As I walked back into my house, I saw my mother and the nurse lifting Callie and rolling her onto her side. The nurse, a large African-American woman was giving the commands and my mother was following them. Thank goodness they had hired a nurse so I didn't get roped into turning Callie and cleaning her and who knows what else. I picked up my pace and hurried past the room. My eyes hurt and my head was spinning as I went upstairs to my room. It had been a long, long day.

I hopped in the shower and washed my hair three times. The first shampoo was to get rid of the sand and the second two were to avoid getting out of the shower. Good hot showers were like running – they totally took you away from your problems. I soaped once with regular soap and again with scented body wash. Warm Vanilla Sugar. It was like breathing in liquid caramel. I shaved parts of my body that didn't have hair. Anything to stall getting out. I knew once I was out and my head hit the pillow I'd be reviewing the events of the day.

Though if I thought about it, it hadn't gone as badly as I thought. Callie was home and that was weird, but maybe it wouldn't be too weird. On the positive side, my parents wouldn't have to run to the rehab place all the time.

Maybe Dad would finally teach me to drive. My sixteenth birthday had come and gone and no one besides me seemed to think it was a priority for me to get my learner's permit. Maybe Mom would finally start asking me about school and take me shopping for back to school clothes--it was only October, no hurry. Maybe I'd call Jess and Lara and see if they wanted to hang out on Friday night.

Feeling renewed with the possibilities, I turned the water off, grabbing a towel and drying. I threw my old blue terrycloth robe on, squeezed the extra water from my hair and brushed it through. It hadn't been cut in a while, another thing to add to the list.

Pulling the door open, I dashed out into the hallway and into my room. The door closed with an unexpected slam. Oops.

A minute later, my mom poked her head in to my room.

"Maddie, did you slam the door?" she asked.

"Accidentally," I admitted.

"You have to be more careful," she said. "You'll disturb Callie." I looked at her, speechless. Disturb Callie? From what? From her vegetative state? I didn't think a door slam a floor above her would really register if she didn't even react to our voices when we were sitting right next to her. "We need to make this a peaceful house. For your sister's sake. For her recovery."

"So if I accidentally make too much noise she may not recover? Are you really laying this on me?"

"Just try, Maddie. It's not that difficult."

"I don't think that any noise I make up here is going to matter. Are we going to tiptoe around for the rest of our lives?"

"You're overreacting," Mom said. "I just want you to think about your sister."

"That's all we've been doing. Don't you think?"

She took my hand, but I jerked it away. Our eyes met and I saw how tired she was.

"Okay, Mom," I said, angry and aching—for my mother, for Callie, for me. "Whatever Callie needs."

"That's a good girl," my mother said. "I knew you'd understand." And she closed the door. Probably went back to Callie's room. Was she going to sleep there, too?

Whatever Callie needs. Let's engrave it on a plague and hang it above the door. "Welcome to the Knowles. We do whatever Callie needs."

When my dad told me we were bringing Callie home, I'd been shocked. He sat me down on the family room couch. That should have been alarm bells right there. We hadn't watched TV together or even sat in that room since the accident.

"But why?" I asked. "How could we possibly handle that?"

"We're going to have round the clock nurses to help your mother." He started fiddling with his cell phone, like he was hoping it would ring and save him from this conversation.

"But why?" I asked again, starting to panic. "Can't they do more for her if she's in the hospital? Do people do this?"

"Not many," Dad admitted. "But if there's anyone who could pull it off it's your mother."

"And you think this is normal?" I asked, searching for something in his face that would tell me he also thought it was crazy.

"None of this is normal, Mad."

"Did you tell Mom she was crazy?"

He chuckled. "At first, yes," he said. "But she told me we can do as well as the rehab facility, if not better. She thinks being home will help Callie get better."

"I'm not a scientist, but can being home or in any specific place, help heal her brain?"

"No," he said, looking down at his phone.

"Then why?" Look at me, Dad. Help me make sense of this.

"Your mother..."

"You know, Dad, it's one thing to humor Mom by going on an educational summer trip instead of going to the beach and it's another to move my brain dead sister into the living room."

Dad winced.

"PVS," he said softly.

"Does it matter what you call it? She's got no medical training."

"Knowing your mother, she'll master it in a week. She's already learned a lot from the nurse. And the nurses will still be here."

"Living with us? There's going to be a stranger living with us?" This was getting even worse. Now I'd have to deal with my sister and a stranger in our house.

"There will be two 12 hour shifts. So not technically living here. You won't even know."

"Because we live in such a giant house that an extra person would be invisible?" Was he kidding? "Where's she going to sleep?" I asked.

"Since Callie has a sleep cycle and there's less to do at night, the night shift nurse might sleep a little in my office."

"Get out! You're giving up your office?"

"Only when the nurses need to rest," he said.

"And that's not a deal breaker for you?" Dad's office was his second home. Heck, his first home. It's where he spent his every waking minute. Why would he want to allow someone to use it?

"No, Maddie," he said. "We're all sacrificing a little for this. That part wouldn't have been my first choice, but it's fine."

"Did the doctors and the people at rehab think it was okay to do this?" I asked.

"They thought it was a little unorthodox but your mother and I have had lots of long talks with them and they've come around."

"The rehab place was gross," I said.

Dad smiled at me. "Yes, you made your thoughts on that very clear."

"When is this going to happen?" I asked.

"We have to get the paperwork together to hire the nurses."

"Isn't that going to be really expensive?" I asked.

"You don't have to worry about that," he said, taking my hand and squeezing it. "Just be a good girl and help your mother."

Be a good girl. That's what they needed from me.

Where did it get you, Callie?