Pages 37-50. Through July 6.

. To: katie@dundee.net
From: sarah@sarahspage.com
Date: 7-5
Subject: Knocked Out & Dragged Out

Kate-ophile,

Once again I am flat on my back because of a horse. Only this time it involves stitches and gauze. I’ll start from the beginning.

I put Traverse on the lead rope for his first big walk and took him out of the barn. It’s real sandy around the barn. Michigan is actually a really sandy state in general. It has to do with the glaciers. Too much to explain here. Go to the Web page if you want to know more.

Anyway, I put the chain over his nose (I wasn’t TOTALLY stupid), and I walked him out. My first hint that things weren’t going to be completely calm was that his eyes got real HUGE. Like, "Wow, I’m on the other side of the WALL." Then he notices his feet and how they’re squishing in the sand. Then he starts to paw. Then he sinks to his knees.

He rolled as if he hadn’t been able to roll in years. Horses love to roll (see the site). They do it sometimes several times a day. So he’s rolling and groaning and I’m trying to give him enough lead. And I’m thinking. How great. That must feel like THE BEST.

Then this movie starts to play in my head. It’s a movie of a horse rolling in a pasture and it’s like:

When a horse rolls...
in the pasture...
he rolls...
and rolls...
and rolls...
and then he...
gets up...
shakes off...
and...

RUNS BUCKING AND KICKING AND FARTING TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PASTURE.

Only, a horse in the pasture doesn’t have SOME IDIOT on the other end of the lead rope.

I realized what was GOING to happen about a nanosecond before it actually did. So Traverse DRAGS me, legs flying, bumping on the ground to the other side of the pasture.

You know, when you’re in pony club, they teach you NEVER to wrap the lead rope around your hand. You’re supposed to hold the excess in your left hand while you hold the rope with your right. And so you go through pony club constantly being reminded, but never really caring. You do it because you’ll get in trouble when you don’t. Then when you quit pony club, you stop doing it because you never knew WHY you were doing it in the first place. Well GUESS WHAT? There’s a reason.

It’s because when your horse drags you to the other end of the pasture on the lead rope and you have the rope wrapped around your hand, it rips your PALM TOTALLY OFF.

I sort of half realized that my palm was ripped to shreds. But I was really more like numb. And my legs couldn’t stop shaking, and my heart was pounding so hard I SWEAR Traverse could hear it. And there was this roaring in my ears. And all I could think of was — don’t let him see you’re afraid. It’s really bad to let a horse see you’re scared. I’m not really sure why. I only know it’s REALLY BAD.

Lucky for me the movie in my head picked up again:

and when the horse...

gets to the other side of the pasture...

he will snort...

let out a big sigh...

and start to quietly eat grass.

Which Traverse did on cue. So at least for the moment I could gather my wits. I took a rag from my pocket and wrapped it around my hand (my left hand luckily). Then I just concentrated on standing up, breathing, not falling down and not crying. I was moderately successful with the standing up and breathing stuff. Traverse was cool. He just continued eating.

I know I shouldn’t have been that scared of him. It wasn’t his FAULT, after all. Any horse that’s been cooped up would’ve done the same thing. But it was dusk, and standing there, he looked like a huge hooved monster. I was terrified he was going to take off again. And then all I could think of was what COULD have happened. While he was bucking, he could have kicked me in the head. I could have fallen and he could have stepped on me. I could have broken my hand.

My HAND. All of a sudden it started to throb and I realized the rag was soaked with blood. So I thought, Guess it’s time to go in.

Man, let me tell you. Putting one foot in front of the other was a real feat. And I’m thinking — Come on Traverse. Please come with me. Because I don’t know what I’m going to do if you don’t.

Good thing for me he followed me right in with no problems. I think he even scared himself a little bit.

So I went into the house and Amy takes one LOOK at me and goes, "OH MY GOD!"

"Traverse kind of dragged me on the lead rope," I said.

"Get in the car," she said.

So we like MOTORED to the local emergency room. Turns out Jeff was on duty. So Amy like skids to a stop in the nearest parking space and hauls me in by my good arm.

You know, I’ve never been to an emergency room in Manhattan, which must be a million times worse than one in Reed Lake, Michigan. But, I gotta tell you, what a screwed-up place!

My hand hurt like HELL, and let me tell you it looked like HELL. It looked like my arm had been sucked into a printing press or something because my shirt was totally soaked with blood. So I’m thinking we’re going to walk in there and they’re going to move into ACTION — doctors running around, hooking me up to monitors, wheeling me away at a dead run.

But NO. I walk in there soaked with blood and they sit us down at this nice registering station and start in with a million questions. They ask Amy to produce a million plastic cards and to fill out a million forms. And I’m thinking what do I have to DO to get SERVICE around here? I swear to GOD, both my eyeballs could have dropped from their sockets and fallen splat on the paperwork and that nurse would have set them aside and continued with the forms.

I can only IMAGINE what it’s like to go into a hospital like Montefiore in the Bronx because they must see the most ghastly stuff all the time and not think ANYTHING is an emergency. Too bad if you’ve got a bone sticking out of your leg. First we’ve got to help this guy who walked in holding HIS BRAIN in both hands.

Finally, Jeff walked by the waiting room door and saw us. I think he was actually more terrified by Amy’s face than he was by my hand.

And WHAT does Amy wail at him? Not, "My poor baby sister! Help her! She’s in pain!" No. Instead she wails, "What’ll I tell Mom?!"

That’s love for you.

So, unwrapping that rag was a trip to the seventh circle of Hell. Amy even went so far as to faint when they were washing the wound. It was pretty grisly, with all the flaps of flesh going everywhere. I nearly passed out, too, from the pain. Then they numbed my hand and Jeff sewed it up. 17 stitches. I’m a regular quilt. Jeff was really cool, though. He calmed Amy down and even joked around with me. He said I’d better be careful with my right hand or else I’ll be typing on the computer holding a pencil between my teeth.

So we got home and I HAD to go look at Traverse’s leg. It wasn’t swollen, so I guess he didn’t hurt himself with all that running around. I was feeling pretty gross, so Amy helped me take a bath. Then we both collapsed. She looked like she’d been through the war. I guess she really DOES feel like she’s responsible for me, even though we’re sisters and we’re supposed to be really indifferent and not care about each other at all. She really does. And she’s right. Mom would KILL her if anything happened to me.

It’s really hard typing with just my right hand. I should go to sleep now. After all, I’ve been maimed.

S


. To: katie@dundee.net
From: sarah@sarahspage.com
Date: 7-5
Subject: Dogs Heal All Wounds

Kate-meister,

I can’t sleep. I’m just lying here thinking. You know what’s really touching? — Ellie.

When we came home, we could barely open the back door. It was like there was something blocking it — like a rolled-up carpet or something. Actually, it was Ellie. She had her whole body lying up against the back door — like, "Nobody’s getting in HERE unless they go through ME." I guess she’d fallen asleep. Then, she wouldn’t leave me alone. She always follows me around anyway, but tonight it was intense. While I was taking a bath she was hanging over the tub LOOKING at me. Then she kept lying down at my feet while I was brushing my hair and stuff. I kept tripping over her because she was right THERE all the time.

Then, I tried to go to sleep and she was right there next to me. My hand is all wrapped up in gauze — just my fingers sticking out. It’s not dirty any more, because Jeff washed it in the Emergency Room, but the whole hand smells like a hospital because of all the antiseptics and stuff they put on it. So, one by one, Ellie starts to lick my fingers clean.

I know you just want to scream "GROOOOOOSSSSS" and stick your fingers in your ears. Like, "Sarah, you’re going to get some WEIRD disease like E-COLI or something if you let the dog do that!" And, yeah, I’m sure the hospital nurse wouldn’t have approved. But remember she was the one who didn’t care about my eyeballs lying on the desk in front of her. Anyway, all the stitched-up part was under so many layers of gauze Ellie couldn’t have gotten to it in a million years. She just very slowly and methodically licked the fingers that were sticking out.

And she was SERIOUS about this job too. I got a little tired of it, so I said, "Thanks, Ellie," and put my hand back under the covers. But she just dove under the covers and started to lick it there. So then I brought it outside the covers, but then she just moved again. THIS time she put one of her paws across my forearm to pin it down. Get this, when I tried to take it back, she GROWLED at me. So, Amy was good enough to put the laptop right on my bed — so I can surf the net and stuff if I wake up. So I just booted it up and let her lick away. When she saw that I wasn’t going to struggle anymore, she let out this big sigh like, "Puppies. When will they ever learn?"

Well, I guess in addition to having to face my parents, I have to face Traverse now too. Know what? I’m not really scared. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m SCARED and all that I’m going to do something wrong and get hurt. But I’m not REALLY SCARED — the way you get when you can’t control the situation and you know no matter what you do, bad stuff will probably happen anyway. This time I feel like — well — like Dave and Matt said. No one knows this horse better than I do. And I think he was just playing around and not trying to hurt me. And I think I’ve learned a lot about horses and how to care for them and how to learn who they are and what their needs are. And I think things WILL go wrong, but I’ll be able to figure out what to do. So THAT’S what I mean. Not like things won’t be HARD and SCARY, but when they are I have like a CHANCE to DEAL with it.

So THEN there’s the Mom and Dad topic. And with that we’re back to the can’t-control-the-situation-bad-stuff-will-probably-happen-anyway-scenario. Oh well.

I promise. Just let me get through the week, get over the loss of blood, etc. etc. and I will deal with the M&D issue.

Ellie seems to have finished my nightly ablutions. Still won’t let the hand go, though. She’s got it pinned down like it’s her favorite bone and she’s sleeping with it.

Nitey-night.

S


. To: katie@dundee.net
From: sarah@sarahspage.com
Date: 7-6
Subject: Showdown at the OK Corral

Katie,

I got up. Hand was THROBBING. And I went downstairs to get some coffee. The coffee in this house is GREAT. I mean, it almost makes me get over the fact that there’s no Starbucks within walking distance for a quick latte. Jeff’s got this OLD percolator coffeepot. It must have belonged to the original settlers. It’s kinda gross-looking, you know, with little rusty dents in it and stuff. It’s not at all like those yuppie glass coffee makers that everyone has now. You know, the little French jobbies with the plunger that you pay $300 for. This coffeepot is so ugly, I didn’t even want to drink the stuff that came out of it. But then I tasted it. YUM. Pioneer Coffee.

Anyway, we were all drinking coffee, and I got some oatmeal and started to put my boots on. Ellie was still guarding my hand pretty intensely. But she was also looking at me like, "Don’t think just because I care, you’re excused from my walk."

So Amy says, "Sar," She musta got that nickname from Dave, "Aren’t you going to take it easy today?"

"Yeah. I guess. I’m just going to walk the dog and take care of the horse. Then I’ll lie around." I really didn’t feel too bad — once I took some of the painkiller Jeff gave me.

"What do you mean ‘take care of the horse’?" You could tell Jeff was trying to stay invisible behind his paper. It’s funny how people who aren’t even, like, 30 can seem so much like really OLD people. Here Amy is sounding like Mom. And there HE is hiding behind the paper like some 60-year-old guy.

"Where have you been the last few weeks? You know. Feed, hay, brush. Shovel manure. That’s taking care of the horse.’"

"And walk him."

Wow. Stress. Had to think. "Yeah. I’m going to walk him." You know, if she hadn’t turned into MOM all of a sudden, I probably would have said something different, like, told her maybe we should call Dave for help. I mean this wasn’t just losing a roll of tape. I’d been wounded. Dave wouldn’t have minded. But, of course, I got my PRIDE all involved. So now I HAD to stand my ground.

"I’ll use the lunge line, so if he runs off, I can just feed him the line. All I’m going to do is let him eat grass and bring him in. The whole thing will take 20 minutes. I’m doing it this afternoon. THAT’S when we walk." Of course I made that last part up. I could have walked him anytime. But I didn’t feel like getting all into this right after I’d had my coffee. Besides, I needed time to think things through.

I’ve already said that Amy feels arguing is right-wing. So she didn’t say anything. Guilt is, of course, extremely PC, so she employs that all the time. She LOOKS at me. Then she LOOKS at Jeff. Her eyeballs must’ve seared right through that paper, because he put it right down.

"If you want my medical opinion, here it is: her hand’s okay as long as she keeps it out of harm’s way. If she can shovel manure and walk the horse one-handed, there’s no medical reason she can’t."

Well, lemme tell ya, Jeff’s just lucky Amy’s eyeballs CAN’T sear through the paper, because if they could, he would’ve been a PILE OF ASHES with just this little puff of smoke wafting up. I’ve already told you what it’s like being in the middle of an argument between married people (actually eloped people), so I just skedaddled.

Feeding, grooming, and mucking went well — though it WAS really hard with just my right hand. Then I had a lot of time to think how I was going to work out the walking thing. My spur-of-the moment idea about the lunge line was a really good one. A lunge line is really long — like maybe 16 feet or something. You use it to exercise a horse when you don’t want to ride him (see the site). I could use that as the lead rope. I’d hold it PROPERLY this time, and if he ran away, I could just let out the line. Cool.

So, that figured out, I spend the rest of the morning in the attic. You know, Jeff’s great aunt’s got a TON of cool stuff packed away in that old trunk. I mean, at first you DON’T think it’s cool stuff as you go pawing through. At first you think, this is just a bunch of old dusty stuff. But THEN you actually LOOK at some of the stuff. I’ve described it on the site. For example: there was this BEAUTIFUL lace handkerchief I came across. The lace was totally hand-done. And it had these initials embroidered into it, "IMR." And it was tied up like a little sachet with a little bit of blue ribbon. So of course I had to undo the ribbon. And what’s inside? These LOCKS of HAIR. There were 5 separate locks, each tied with a different color ribbon. So HOW COOL. The really eerie part is that you know there’s a story behind that somewhere.

Well, the afternoon arrived. I had to keep my word. I gotta tell you, I was REALLY scared. Especially when I looked up and saw that Amy’s truck was NOT in the driveway. How could she desert me at a time like this? I mean, who was going to drive me BACK to the hospital?

Well, I DEFINITELY could NOT wait until she got home, because that would say she was right like almost NOTHING else. So out I went. You could tell Ellie was not in support of this plan. While I’m grooming Traverse and stuff, she usually prowls around the barn, looking for mice and sniffing. This time she just lay there like a sphinx looking at me.

Well I groomed every mote of dust out of his coat before I put the lunge line on him. Then we walked out. As we were walking I had this intense conviction that the whole thing was going to happen AGAIN. I just knew it.

And of course it did. Only it wasn’t so bad this time. I was prepared. He started to squish in the sand again, and got this I-need-a-fix look in his eyes. So, down on his knees, roll, roll, roll, roll, up, shake and RUN.

But this time he only ran a few strides and gave a half a buck. And with the lunge line, I could bring him right back to me. Then we walked out and he grazed.

It was great to see him grazing in the late afternoon sunshine. He was chowing down on that grass big-time. His coat still looked dull. I guess it’s going to be a lot of months before he’s in really good health again. I had tucked a book in the back of my pants, so I sat down on the grass in the sunshine and started reading. Now I’m into Anne of Green Gables. Cool book. Forgotten how much I’d enjoyed it.

BTW — you know what’s awesome about Anne and that whole Avonlea place? First, she’s like an orphan and isn’t totally screwed up, which proves you can have some really bad experiences as a child and like not end up in prison or an institution or something. She’s not perfect — in fact she does really stupid stuff all the time. Which is why I, madam lead-rope-wrapper-around-the-hander, like her a whole lot right now. But the other thing too is that her pseudo-parental units — Marilla and Matthew, who adopt her — aren’t totally perfect either. I mean, get this. Marilla makes her wear totally UNCOOL clothes to school because they’re practical. Can you IMAGINE your Mom MAKING you dress really stupid, and going to school? I’d DIE. But then the pseudo-parental units realize they’re being really dumb and not fair to Anne and they change their minds. So it’s this whole you’re-not-perfect-we’re-not-perfect thing.

So after a few chapters, I decided Traverse had eaten enough. Time to go in.

Remember yesterday I wrote that you’re not supposed to EVER let a horse see you’re afraid. I couldn’t remember why at the time. But now I remember.

It’s because when he sees you’re scared, he thinks, maybe you’re not in charge. Maybe HE’S really in charge. Horses are funny. You’d think they’d know all the time that they could REALLY be in charge if they wanted to. But in a horse’s mind it all comes down to one word: ATTITUDE. In a herd of horses, you’d think the biggest and strongest horse would ALWAYS be the boss. But really, it’s the horse that has the most attitude that usually is. He goes up to all the other bigger horses and says, "Hey man. This is MY pasture. And if you get out of line, I’ll kick your butt." And the other horses go, "Whoa, man. He’s got a lot of attitude. He’s small, but I bet he could really kick some butt." And that’s how they work out their social order. You know — it’s kind of like the way New York gangs function.

And if a person strikes the right attitude with a horse, then the PERSON is in charge, no questions asked. And the horses just kind of go around meekly following these little bitty people like, "Man, that human’s just a pip-squeak, but what an ATTITUDE." Kinda silly, huh? I mean, horses are SO big, they could like ALWAYS kick your butt. But in their world, it makes sense. I mean the equine with the most attitude is probably the smartest and SHOULD lead the herd. Even if that equine is really a human.

Well, the one thing that really destroys attitude is fear. And in Traverse’s eyes my reputation had really taken a beating. So when I asked him to go in, he just looked at me like, "Go away. You bother me."

So then I got more insistent, pulling on the lead. He got irritated and pulled back and stomped his foot like, "Can’t you SEE I’m EATING. Now be a nice little human and toddle along." When I tried to make him walk, he just trotted around me in a circle. He REFUSED to go in a straight line, no matter how hard I tried. We just kept on going in these circles and went nowhere. Then he’d stop and eat more grass.

I had absolutely NO IDEA what to do. He was so clearly in charge, and here I was, maimed and helpless. I suppose I could have just unhooked the lead and left him there. But that just felt like FAILURE.

Something inside me told me I couldn’t just give up. He was MY horse after all. For years I’d had people present me with TRAINED horses. Okay, so the last one was trained to kill, but still. I’d never had to do it myself. Now I think I realized why fully trained horses cost so much. Because you have to spend WEEKS on something as simple as walking in and out of the barn. Anyway, I KNEW if I gave in, I’d be toast. He’d NEVER do what I wanted, and it would get worse every day.

But here’s the MOST FRUSTRATING THING. Horses aren’t like dogs. You just can’t MAKE them do what you want. They’re bigger and stronger than you are. They’re kind of like LIFE. You just can’t force it to be the way you want. In a brute force match between a person and a horse, the horse will win every time. Unless you, like, get a GUN, but that kind of defeats the whole PET concept. (Been there. Done that.)

So you have only ONE advantage. Supposedly, you’re smarter than the horse. Also, horses RARELY lash out. In the wild, they RUN from danger. They’re mostly avoidance-type creatures. (Sound familiar? Funny, I’d rather deal with a 1000-lb. beast than my parents. But hey.)

So I started to think about all of this. I thought about something I’d seen at a horse show once. This guy could NOT get his horse to go into the ring. So, instead, he asked people to clear a small area for him OUTSIDE. THEN he REALLY made his horse work. Around and around and around. Finally, the horse was like, "Let me IN that ring. It CAN’T be any more work than THIS."

So what I had to do was make staying outside LESS COOL than coming with me. Well, I couldn’t make him work because of the whole broken leg thing. I couldn’t make him walk where I wanted. But what I could do was hold his head up and keep him from eating grass.

I pulled his head up, and he looked at me like, "Oh, you again." Then he went back down to eat. But I held the lead tight and braced my arm across my waist. He jerked his nose on the chain. He looked at me, "Oh, come now." He made more attempts and each time yanked the chain across his nose as he went down. I could see him try to work it out in his mind. He was frustrated. He started to circle me on the short lead. I said to myself, "Be a post. If he thinks he’s hooked to a post, he’ll stop."

And he stopped, and just stood there. He really couldn’t DO anything. There wasn’t enough lead for him to walk away. He couldn’t eat grass. His only option was to just stand there. I was feeling pretty cool. I mean, what I was doing was working so far. At least it was making him think like, "Wait. I thought the boss lady had lost her ATTITUDE."

After a few minutes, I tried again to make him walk nicely to the barn. I think it took him a minute to catch on to what I was doing because he took about 5 steps just perfectly. Then the lightbulb goes off in his head again like, "Hold on a minute..." and he starts to trot around me again. But I was really encouraged. So I made him stop and stand there. And he’s like, "Jeez! Not THIS again."

The next time I let him move, I got like 50 feet more before he started to misbehave. Then we went back to standing. By this time, I was getting pretty cocky. So while Traverse was standing there being one frustrated horse, I was just like humming a tune, admiring the trees, and the sky. That’s when the toe of the boot in the hayloft caught my eye.

Now, I suppose there are OTHER people in the world who wear purple lizard skin cowboy boots under perfectly pressed Ralph Lauren jeans. But at that moment I couldn’t think of anybody but Dave. And I KNEW that behind those purple-lizard toes HAD to be some Amy-canvas-sneaker toes.

They were WATCHING me.

I tried really hard to keep from smiling and really hard to not look for their eyes peering through the cracks in the barn wood. I just kept up with what I was doing. The third time I stopped Traverse was the last. He trotted half a circle, looked at me real bummed like, "Man, this is NO FUN anymore," and just kind of gave up and walked nicely the rest of the way.

Let me tell you. I was SO PROUD of myself. All those years riding but never knowing this whole mystery world of horses. You think you’re just not good enough or smart enough to understand. You’re just a rich kid who lives in Manhattan and rides on weekends. Actually, the way you feel is kind of like the way you feel being a kid in general. There’s this whole adult world that is this big SECRET. And you CAN’T figure it out until you get the adult SECRET DECODER RING. Well, who KNEW? I actually CAN! And the BEST part about it was that DAVE had seen the whole thing.

I was BURSTING by the time we got into the barn. I just yelled out, "Hey DAVE! I like those purple boots!"

So Amy and Dave come thundering down the old barn stairs from the hayloft. Amy just FLIES down the aisle and gives me this HUGE hug. The hug was part — "Wow! I’m glad you’re okay" — and part — "Man, my little sister is AWESOME with that horse." After Amy was finished slobbering, I looked up at Dave. He was a few paces behind her with a Marlboro Light elegantly dangling from his fingertips. You’re not usually allowed to smoke in a barn, but with Dave it’s part of his whole STYLE thing, so you really can’t say anything. Anyway, he’s grinning and he just gives me this broad, open-armed gesture like — gimme a hug. So I handed off the horse to Amy and gave him a big hug.

He says, "You are just awesome." And I felt like, yeah, I pretty much am.

The expression on Traverse’s face was really funny. He was like, "Man it STINKS to be the loser and have everybody gloat." But I could just tell, in his eyes I was Ms. Attitude.

As I was putting Traverse away, Dave kept telling me what was great about what I’d done. That’s what’s really super about a good teacher. They don’t just tell you when you screw up. They tell you when you DON’T screw up and WHY it was totally NOT screwed up.

"I was really worried about you," he said. He looked down at my gauzed-up hand. "And then Traverse started to be such a butt-head. That was a really tough situation."

"Yeah," I said.

"And any really experienced horseperson" (Dave’s really PC and says horseperson, not horseman, which is totally cool with me) "would have had trouble figuring out what to do, but I could see those wheels whirring. And you did just the RIGHT thing. You knew you had to face it and figure it out. You had to DEAL with it right there. That’s what I like best about you Sar. You take on the challenge and you deal with it. You don’t run away. You are going to make some GREAT horseperson some day."

I felt GREAT. We put the horse away. And Amy asked Dave and Matt to come over for dinner to celebrate. I HAD to come up here and tell you as soon as I could. But, you know, all of a sudden as I type this, I don’t feel as GREAT as I did before. Dave was all geeked about my dealing with the horse and facing things head-on. What he was saying was right — about the horse stuff — but totally NOT RIGHT about anything else. I guess I really WOULD rather deal with a misbehaving 1000-lb. animal than with the truth about my parents.

So now I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to talk to Amy about Mom and Dad. I’m going to DO IT. I’ll write you later and let you know how it goes.

For now,

Sar


. To: katie@dundee.net
From: sarah@sarahspage.com
Date: 7-6
Subject: Really Hard

Dear Katie,

I guess writing that e-mail this afternoon took longer than I thought because by the time I had finished and showered for dinner, Dave was back. Matt had some vet emergency, so he couldn’t come. And Jeff was on duty, so it was just the three of us.

After we ate dinner, that’s when I had to bring it up. I know it was weird wanting to bring it up with Dave there and all. I know you’re supposed to be closer to your family than like to anyone else, but sometimes it’s easier when there’s this really understanding outsider around. It’s what therapy must be like. And then, Amy and Dave are so close, part of me felt that he probably knew anyway.

"Amy," I said, "can I ask you a question?"

Amy HAD to know what was coming because she started to look REALLY uncomfortable. But I was maimed and all, and she’s supposed to be the adult.

"Sure," she says with this totally false enthusiasm. "What’s up?"

I took a deep breath. All of a sudden I had this really stomach-fluttery feeling like when I was first wrapping Traverse’s leg. "I want to know what’s going on with Mom and Dad. And I KNOW you know."

So Amy gets this really horrified, wide-eyed look and says, "Oh my God."

Then I got really panicky. I had been trying so HARD to avoid the topic and repress the whole thing that I never really gave much thought to what COULD be wrong. All of a sudden all those things came FLOODING into my mind. It was HORRIBLE.

"OH MY GOD," I said jumping up, "Does Mom have CANCER?"

Amy kind of laughed and Dave kind of laughed and said really quickly, "No, Sar. Your Mom doesn’t have cancer. Not your Dad either. Everybody’s physical health is fine."

So I guess the fact that I had mentioned like almost the WORST thing that could be wrong gave Amy a little perspective. It’s like she was thinking, "Well, at least I don’t have to tell my baby sister that her mom has cancer."

"Sarah," she starts, "I don’t know if you notice it or think about it — because you’re around a lot of private-school, New York City kids all the time — but Mom and Dad spend a lot of money."

"Duh," I said. The only possible response.

"I mean, with the private school tuition and the apartment on the Upper East Side and the house in Southampton. Then there’s Mom’s shopping, and Dad’s private club. And the beach club. And the horse." She was starting to ramble.

"Double Duh," I said.

"It all adds up to a lot of money."

"Yeah," I said. "I thought Dad made a lot of money at the publishing company."

"Well, there was that 8 months when he was laid off and had to find another job. And, yeah, he makes good money, but a lot of people make good money and don’t have a house in Southampton. And it was GIVEN to them. And then they had to support it...I don’t know how to explain this." She was rambling again.

Dave was obviously getting impatient.

"Sarah. Your parents are broke."

"Broke! What do you mean broke!"

"Well, not TOTALLY broke. Just broke enough to not live the life you’ve all been living," Amy said.

"Amy, you need to start making some sense here. One minute I’m with Mom and Dad in Southampton and we’re doing what we always do, and the next minute I’m here and you’re telling me they’re BROKE?"

"It all started with the hurricane. I think Dad’s been holding this in for a long time. You know, they decided to take that house instead of Grandma’s money. And Uncle Jim got the money. And we all thought that was a good deal. But I guess no one ever thought that was a really big house. On a lot of property. And it took a lot of money to maintain it. I mean, Sarah, I don’t think you and I ever knew how much it cost to have a year-round caretaker looking after the house even if we weren’t there."

"Wow," I said.

"And I guess while Grandma was alive, she gave Dad the money to keep us both in private school. So then, when she died, Dad had to do that himself, and the house was just this big burden. So, it’s like, for a long time he’s been sliding more and more into debt."

Amy took a deep breath.

"So, after the house went into the ocean, I think Dad just broke down. He told Uncle Jim everything. And together they came up with a plan. Dad would take the insurance money and it would be just enough to get them out of debt and to put aside some money for your college — which they haven’t done. And then they’re going to take a big chunk and put it aside for their retirement — which they REALLY haven’t done."

"At least they have a plan," I said.

"But what it means, Sarah, is that there will be no house in Southampton any more. They’re going to keep the property because it’s been in the family for years. That would kill Dad to have to sell his family’s land. He and Uncle Jim agree on that. But unless one of us strikes it rich, there’s not going to be any house on it."

"Oh," I said. That really sucked.

Amy took another deep breath. Obviously the worst wasn’t over.

"And Dad has made this promise to Mom and Uncle Jim that the family’s going to live within his means."

Amy got this posture like she’d just dropped the REAL bombshell, and looked at me for my response. I had NO IDEA what she was talking about.

"Means? What do you mean MEANS? I have no idea what MEANS means."

"What means means is that he won’t dip into savings to pay for things. Like his paycheck carries the family month to month. Mom has even considered getting a job."

Mom? Working? Wow, things were bad.

Dave intervened. "Amy, I think you need to get to the point. Tell your sister what it means for HER."

"Okay, okay." Another deep breath. "Your private school does not fall within their means. Neither does your horse. And maybe not even a private college."

I felt like I’d turned to stone.

Dave urged Amy on. "Mom and Dad may even think about moving to a cheaper apartment. Or even moving out of the city. Once they started to think things through, a lot of things came up for debate.

"So, the point is, right now you have a choice, Sarah. New York public schools aren’t the worst. They’re really different from what you’re used to and a little scary. And since we don’t know where Mom and Dad will decide to live, we really don’t know what school you’d be going to next year. But you can decide to do it and still go to school in New York, or Long Island or New Jersey or wherever they end up. And you’ll see all your old friends — on the weekend. Just not every day in class."

"Or."

"Or," Amy looked like she really didn’t want to say this because she didn’t know what I would say, so she looked at Dave mostly while she talked. "Or you can stay here with us. It would just be while Mom and Dad decide what to do. I mean it’s taking them some time. It’s like there’s this whole LIFETIME of stuff they’ve had to really reevaluate. It’s going to take more than a couple of months. And the school system here is really good. It’s rated really highly and it’s small so it’d be more like what you’re used to. And maybe after 6 months or so Mom and Dad will have things sorted out and you’ll want to go back. But if you didn’t that’s totally all right with Jeff and me. We really like having you here and want you to stay if you did want to. And if you went to school here, you’d be a resident. So if you wanted to go to U of M, which is a really good state school, you could. Who knows. Mom and Dad aren’t really sure they want to deal with the whole New York scene when they have to give up so much. THEY might even end up out here. Dad’s talking like all his options are open. Though I really can’t imagine the two of them out of New York. But anyway. That’s the choice. And it’s your choice. And I’ll REALLY understand whatever you decide to do. Really I will."

Dave rubbed Amy’s shoulders — like, "Good job. I know that was really hard." It WAS really hard for her. I could tell.

But then, things are going to be REALLY HARD for me. I do feel like stone. I can see Amy wants me to stay. And I know how much it took for her to tell me all that. And for her to have dealt with it alone all these weeks without me knowing. And I really loved her for going through all that. It was a lot for her to offer to have me move in. And after all that I have said about Michigan. I mean, I know she’s totally afraid that I’ll feel forced to stay but be rejecting the life she loves the whole the time. So somehow I thought of something to say.

"Amy. You are the best. It’s like the most generous thing in the world for you to want me to live here. I really don’t know right now. I really don’t. It’s just a lot to deal with. I need some time to think."

So I squeezed Dave’s hand, smiled at Amy and said, "Thanks guys," and came upstairs.

So, after telling you all this, I know you’re going to be totally sad like I am. And really, Katie, I can’t think of anything to say. I can hardly write. I really DO feel like stone. So I need to go now.

S

© 1998 Sleeping Bear Press. Used with permission of the publisher. All rights reserved.