The Passing Storm. Emily Rennie

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СКАЧАТЬ bed, I heard a strange voice coming from another room. It was low and soft; a heavy drawl. I thought it was the TV, because it sounded like the newscaster Grandma liked to watch. I shuffled down the hall, and as I drew closer to the family room, I realized the voice belonged to a real person. Not sure if I should make myself known, I hunkered down against the wall and listened.

      “I’ll come get you at nine,” Grandma had said.

      “I’m fine,” the man protested with a raspy voice.

      “You are not fine. You’ve got a nasty bug and you’re going to Dr. Hutchinson’s. Hang on a minute and I’ll pour you some orange juice to take back.”

      Tentatively, I poked my head around the corner. Grandma moved around the kitchen, still talking to the man whose back was turned to me. He was only slightly taller than Grandma. His gray hair was greasy, and in need of a trim. One hand rested on his hip, as if he planned to defy Grandma’s plans for the morning.

      It’s Gil! I thought with panic. I had heard enough about him to guess that’s who the man was. I quickly ran back down the hall to my room. Grandma must have heard something, because she appeared in the doorway only seconds after I’d gotten back in bed. I was afraid I’d seen and heard something I shouldn’t, so I pretended to be asleep. Grandma kissed me on the forehead and straightened the covers before heading back to the family room. After another few minutes I heard the back door shut. I knew Gil must be going back to his house, but I was too scared to peek out the window to find out.

      I shook myself from the memory and turned back to the picture I still had in my hand. I didn’t know who the rest of the people in the photo were, but I noticed that a tall, handsome athletic-looking man behind Ginny was resting his hand on her shoulder. I wondered if he’d been her boyfriend, but the way Ginny was standing so close to Grandma it didn’t appear she was even aware of his gesture. Next to him was another young man, and when I looked at him I felt uneasy. At first glance he looked like a normal guy with dark blond or light brown hair. He was shorter than the tall man behind Ginny, but the rolled-up sleeves of his checkered button-up revealed tan, muscled arms. His mouth twisted in a slight grin, but his eyes were hard, blank, and unfeeling. It’s his eyes. I felt as if he were staring straight at me, daring me to find out who he was—daring me to find out his secrets. I was reminded of the bad dream I’d had on the plane. With a shiver I put the photo down and looked behind me, suddenly afraid someone else was in the room.

      I could hear Grandma herding Gabby down the hall to bed. I began to brush my hair to look busy. For some reason I felt guilty looking at that photo, even though I knew Grandma loved for us to look at her photos.

      I climbed into my bed as Gabby climbed into hers right across from me. I wasn’t too sleepy—especially since my body was still two hours behind on California time. I figured I’d read some more of my book while Gabby fell asleep. Grandma tucked us in and kissed us goodnight. “Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite,” she sang, shutting the door behind her.

      I opened my book to where I’d left off, noticing out of the corner of my eye that Gabby was restlessly moving around in her bed and peeking under the covers. After a few seconds, she whispered, “Anna, there aren’t really bed bugs in here, are there?”

      I laughed out loud. “No, of course not. Did you think Grandma meant it literally?”

      “What does ‘literally’ mean?” she asked.

      “Nothing, never mind. Just go to bed. Grandma’s sheets are bug-free.”

      I read for a while, drawn into the eerie world of Jane Eyre. Mom had given it to me for the trip. I was fascinated by the description of the English moors. I wondered if Crisper, Texas felt like that in the winter—flat, lonely, and damp. After a while I began to grow sleepy. I put my book down and turned out the light. The sheets were soft and cool. I could hear the rattle of the air conditioner outside under our window, and the distant humming and revving of the cars at the demolition derby racetrack at the edge of town. Above it all I could hear the crickets chirping an insect symphony in the warm, dark night. Jetlagged and unable to sleep, I got on my knees in the bed so I could peek through the blinds. I could see the old house in which great Uncle Gil lived. No lights were on, but I could see the flicker of faint blue light from a TV through the curtains.

      “Anna,” Gabby whispered. “Is Uncle Gil out there?”

      “I thought you were asleep!” I whispered back.

      “I was, but I woke up. Is he out there?”

      “No, he’s in his house safe and sound, just like us.”

      “Will he ever come out? Will we ever see him?” she asked.

      “No, remember, he’s sick. He doesn’t like to leave his place. Everything’s fine, just go to sleep.”

      “Okay,” she agreed, satisfied with my explanation. I didn’t know if I was, though. I wondered myself if we’d ever see Gil.

      As I thought about the people from Grandma’s past I contemplated whether Grandpa’s spirit still roamed around the house. Or Grandma’s sister Ginny—cut off in the prime of her life. I knew that I was scaring myself so I snuggled back down under the covers and tried to think happy, benign thoughts to make me feel better. I could hear the TV from the living room, and Grandma’s hearty laugh as she watched a late night comedy show. The sound of her voice made me feel better, and suddenly the long day of traveling overcame me and I fell fast asleep.

      Old Photographs

      After only a few days I began to get a little bored. The excitement of flying halfway across the country without my parents had worn off, and I’d grown tired of TV and my book. It was too hot to play outside, which bothered me immensely because I played outside all summer back home. Mom had talked me into not bringing my soccer ball, anyway, since it would take up too much room in my suitcase. Despite my boredom I tried to keep up a positive mood for Grandma, because she tried hard to keep us entertained.

      I also missed Mom and Alex, even though we had already talked to them twice. Mom said they were painting my room the burgundy color I’d picked out, and that it looked really cool. I also missed my friends, especially my best friend Chelsea. I made a mental note to write her a letter later that day.

      I cracked open a soda and picked up my mp3 player. Grandma had surprised me the night before by giving it a listen as she cooked dinner. She listened for about fifteen minutes, set it down, and said thoughtfully, “Not bad for crazy kid stuff.” I had to laugh.

      The house was quiet without Grandma and Gabby, who had gone to the grocery store. Gabby was excited because Grandma’s neighbor Libby Watson had invited us over to swim, and Libby’s granddaughter Ashley was only a year younger than Gabby. I looked forward to being outside and floating around in the cool water, but was a little disappointed that there weren’t any kids my age around.

      I sipped my soda and walked into the living room, where we didn’t spend much time. It was white and sparse—a stark contrast to the comfortable wood-paneled family room stuffed with plaid sofas and rocking armchairs. The white shag carpet of the living room seemed out of place compared to the plain brown carpet throughout the rest of the house. The shag was thick and cool, and I dug my bare toes into it. I sat down at the upright ivory-colored piano, took my headphones off, and tinkled out a few simple tunes I recalled from memory. I’d had several years of piano lessons, but I really wanted to learn how to play the guitar. Mom had promised that I could start taking guitar lessons before school started.

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