Everything But the Story
Sam Goldsmith
The Plot Thus Far
Riley never asked for any of this. She follows the rules, gets good grades, hangs out with her best friend Haley during her free time, and, most of all, doesn’t stand out. So why is it that Zach, the heartthrob captain of the baseball team, won’t leave her alone? What part of “I’m not interested” doesn’t he understand? It’s not as if Zach’s starved for attention, with Haley’s not-so-secret crush on him and Josie from the cheerleading squad hanging on his arm all the time.
One evening, after a student council meeting on disaster preparedness runs long, Riley happens to spot Josie in an empty classroom and discovers her secret: a long, red scar down the bottom of her calf. She’s rolled down her tights to press an ice pack to it, breathing hard through her teeth. Riley hurries to the bike rack and pedals home, hoping she wasn’t seen. She wasn’t, was she?
Author’s Note
Embarking on a new series never fails to saturate me with a blend of terror and excitement. Riley’s story is no exception, especially owing to the circumstances in which I currently find myself. I’m tempted to write that I’m coming home, but calling California “home” would be a hint disingenuous. Like how, if I described the white noise of the airplane engine as soothing, it would neglect the cheap headphones I wore from departure to arrival. But it is soothing even when I can’t hear it, and California is a sort of home even if I can’t recognize it, after the years and the fire.
Airplane travel is made for diminutive artists like myself. An undersized creative has room and time aplenty to chase off feelings of dread with typing.
I took the shuttle from the terminal to the wrong rental car lot. A stranger who was also here for family helped redirect me. Sometimes, for brief flashes, not everything is horrible. Even when it is, sometimes I have the privilege of visiting Riley’s mom instead of my own, in a chapter penned at 30,000 feet.
The Plot Thus Far
Riley never wanted to draw so much attention, least of all from Zach. So why won’t he leave her alone? And now Haley, who has a crush on Zach, won’t even talk to her. Great. Just great.
But she’ll have to make up with Haley sooner than she thinks. During a game of Scrabble with her mom, Riley learns that Haley’s family is coming over for dinner tomorrow night! The adults are going to make plans for the tropical storm that’s headed fast for the coast. Unbelievable. Riley’s whole life is starting to feel like a storm these days.
Will Riley be able to patch things up with her best friend? And why, in class the next morning, does Josie demand to talk with her alone after school?
Author’s Note
I envy Riley for her stable relationship with her hometown. Although Riley cannot relate, it must be common for small-town teens, horny for a world big enough to quench them, to wish their hometown would be swallowed by the earth. I too harbored fantasies of flames repelling Mom and me to the city. Instead, as an adult, the mega-fire that made charcoal of my hometown pulled me back, to supervise medical care and manage whatever items my comparatively young but mentally hobbled mother was able to bring 85 miles northward, where I write this now.
I find working to be tricky in current conditions. Mom keeps the television volume at a level so abrasive it has to be a manufacturing mistake. She watches a full diet of cop shows — I am besieged by blaring sirens and baritone narration. The tube’s tyranny continues into the night, and my little headphones cannot compete with the cacophony. I silenced it on the first night, prompting Mom to startle awake and wail as if from the depths of a well. I accommodate her as she loses her mind even though — or perhaps because — she would do nothing of the sort for me if our roles were reversed.
The Plot Thus Far
Riley was supposed to not stand out, which meant she definitely did not want to attract Zach’s attention. And now Josie, too? Doesn’t she understand that Riley’s not interested in Zach? But Josie drops a bombshell: even though she flirts with Zach all the time, she doesn’t even like boys — she likes girls! Her family would cut her off if she dated other girls, so she puts on a big show of liking Zach. When Josie begs Riley in tears to leave Zach alone, what can she do but nod? She also makes Riley agree not to tell anyone about her foot surgery. So Josie did see her after all.
Riley’s head is swirling at dinner with Haley’s family, but somehow, while the adults are busy planning for the incoming tropical storm, Riley manages to convince Haley that she has no romantic interest in Zach. When Haley asks Riley to help with Zach, how could she say no to her best friend? But how can she stay away from Zach as Josie asked, while also getting him to like Haley? And what should she do the next day as school’s letting out when another kid bumps into Josie by accident, and she falls to the floor, clutching her leg?
Author’s Note
I make phone calls to FEMA, the insurance company, and Mom’s doctors from the little balcony, to escape the television’s police sirens. Most families aren’t as knowledgable about disaster preparedness as Riley’s and Haley’s, but I’m comfortable making this narrative stretch, if it helps even one reader to have an easier time than me. I take a perverse pride in writing what is possibly the only light serial romantic comedy featuring a thoughtful discussion of advanced directives and powers of attorney.
I’ve heard that dementia patients can descend into mean streaks. Lucky for me, Mom’s the opposite, especially when she is unable to recognize me. This is the first time I can remember not wanting to leave her. Still, I can’t continue to pay rent for an empty apartment back east.
Mom saved just one photo album in the evacuation, which I flip through with her on the couch again and again, her thighs touching mine with a warmth that strikes me as out of character. She mutters about the figures she sees, but it’s lost under Code Blue.
The Plot Thus Far
Riley never asked to keep Josie’s secrets, but here we are. After Josie hurts her leg at school, Riley rushes her home on the back of her bicycle, to keep the secret of her foot surgery hidden. They play a game of Scrabble with Riley’s mom, Josie icing her leg on a chair. Was Josie always so quick-witted and considerate in the way she talks? Did Riley always laugh so hard in front of the Scrabble board? Popular girls are really something else. She even gets Riley’s mom to tell her about the woman who helped adopt and raise Riley until, when Riley had just started to crawl, she suddenly died of undetected ovarian cancer. Riley’s mom never talks about those days anymore, but she opens up with Josie as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
What’s with this anticipation Riley feels the next morning? Why is she scanning for Josie wherever she goes? It has to be because she’s worried about her leg. Yeah. That has to be it.
Author’s Note
I secured a subletter, which allows me to stay here with Mom. They’re a friend of a friend back east, an indie filmmaker who appreciates the low rent. Yet, the actual benefits of my decision to extend my stay might be overstated. I’ve slept on the couch facing the television long enough that I’ve begun to dream in blue.
The comparative intensity of this month’s chapter reflects not just the story’s natural progression, but my preoccupation with non-physical trauma as I administer Mom’s advancing life. I catalogued most of Mom’s material things that survived and a fraction of those that were left to the inferno. I’m not cataloguing her sanity; insurance would never cover it. Perhaps it should. Dragging her from the heirloom home in which she was born and lived nearly six decades (I have to remind myself her body appears to have lived longer than she has) has surely accelerated her decline. The physical layout of her current habitat seems to defy her every expectation. She would get lost on the way to the bathroom if I weren’t here to guide her. Some nights I hear her wake up screaming that she’s been kidnapped — “Where am I?”
Nevertheless, on the whole, Mom seems to be a calmer, more comfortable person without the mind she’s losing. Much of what’s left of her cares deeply about others, even me, her stranger of an offspring. One morning in particular stands out to me. Flipping through the photo album together, she placed the skin of her hand on mine and said something to my eyes. I couldn’t hear over the television, but I could see genuine concern in the clench of her wrinkles. I could only begin to weep. Mom slid her arm behind my back, about the fullest extent of hug she could manage, and let me cry into the padded shoulders of her blouse. She wasn’t making amends for our past; it was genuine humanity.
Her mind must have caused her intense pain. Although I had promised myself never to do so, now I can’t help but pity her.
The Plot Thus Far
Riley never asked for any of this. Not for her classmate Josie’s secrets. Not for Zach’s interest. Not for the tension between her and Haley. And definitely not for these nerve-wracking jitters whenever her eyes meet Josie’s. And now, did Zach really just invite her and Haley to hang out this weekend? Sure, it would be a great opportunity for Haley, but what about the tropical storm that’s about to land? Riley and her mom are already packed to evacuate after school tomorrow! So what if the baseball game’s been cancelled and his teammates are going to be out of town for safety? He must’ve seen Riley putting up the student council’s safety posters all over school, right? He can’t seriously think he’ll be fine with just a week’s worth of bread and milk and a dry place for his AR-15 ammunition, can he?
Haley can’t tell Zach to take the storm seriously without looking like a square, so she asks Riley to do it. How could she say no to her best friend? So, she pulls Zach aside, and he tells her he’ll plan his evacuation if she gives him a kiss! Thank goodness Josie walks in on their conversation, letting Riley run out to the bike rack in tears. She hears footsteps behind her and turns to see… Josie?
Author’s Note
I bought Mom a little television for her bedroom. But now, without her cop shows in the living room, it’s the quiet that disturbs my sleep. I do most of my writing in the darkness of early morning.
Cohabitating with an elderly relative experiencing dementia is not ideal for a diminutive artist like myself. This place is a conclave of unreachable things — this is also a metaphor that, no matter how heavy-handed, I must accommodate with the same trepidation as I would a second roommate. The walk-in closet is filled to bursting with the physical indicia of Mom’s long life, stacked floor to ceiling, well beyond the capabilities of my outstretched arms to summit. At the top of that tower, I found a Scrabble set I’d received from a high school friend. It was still wrapped in plastic. Why did she save it?
The Plot Thus Far
Riley is in way over her head. When she tried to get Zach to follow a hurricane evacuation warning, he asked for a kiss in exchange! Riley runs to her room to process her feelings with Josie. They begin to relax together, and Josie bubbles over with even more secrets. Wasn’t Riley already carrying too many? She doesn’t need to know that Josie’s never had a kiss she really wanted, with a girl. Well, one girl in particular.
What’s this sharp disappointment Riley feels? She’s not sad it’s not her, right? Riley’s not actually wishing that Josie’s sheepish, red-faced expression is for her. No way. But suddenly Josie grabs the front of her shirt and kisses her! It’s an earthquake of a kiss.
Right as Josie’s hand starts tracing the thighs of Riley’s jeans, her mom comes home. Josie quickly leaves, and Riley’s mom can tell something’s off. Riley tells her about the incident with Zach, and her mom suggests they evacuate tomorrow morning instead of waiting until evening, if Riley feels uncomfortable going to school. With such a caring offer from her mom, how could she say no? She goes to sleep wondering, will she ever see Josie again?
Author’s Note
Thank you for following Riley through this tumultuous week in her life. To be frank, I didn’t much enjoy writing her series, because I had to don a rubber suit and trudge through the ashes of my own teenage years. But writing isn’t meant to be enjoyable for the writer; just necessary. Your support makes the self-abuse worth it.
Subsequent to the unopened Scrabble box I described in last month’s note, I found two other items among Mom’s things that may help contextualize my thought process for writing this story. In Mom’s files, I encountered a medical record from my pediatrician, in which a block of ink from a purple ballpoint pen obscured some of the doctor’s writing. With effort, I peered into the text below the redaction: Diagnosis: Asperger’s Syndrome. It felt as if my entire life had been summarized in that purple ink, and my eyes burned and my fingers compacted into fists.
The second item was a book that, as an adult, I’d bought for Mom when I’d just been diagnosed for what, until now, I thought was the first time. I had started, finally, to learn this part of myself. The book was titled Living With Asperger’s as an Adult, and even though the term “Asperger’s” is now outdated, I still find the book’s insights invaluable. When I mailed the book, I had hoped it might present an opportunity to reignite some connection with Mom, which had been allowed to remain cold and damp throughout my adult life. Like the Scrabble game, this, too, was still wrapped in plastic.