July Exclusive - "Plans" - Part 2

6:32 AM

Cassie wakes up, certain that she has slept in. A mix of anxiety, grief, and shame makes her mouth feel as dry as the desert. She has missed the ride to Blountville, Tennessee. She has missed her flight to Atlanta. And she is absolutely not going to Paris.

She sits up in bed, feels dampness in her protective underwear, and knows that for the first time since it began, bedwetting is the least of her troubles. She looks over at the Paris map; she has missed everything.

One look toward the window tells Cassie otherwise; the beginning of sunshine creeping through the gap in the curtains.

It’s still early. She woke up before the alarm.

Take it easy. Deep breaths.

She gets out of bed, pulls open the curtains. There is the yard, just starting to brighten. Another day, but this one will have to proceed without her. As soon as she’s showered and dressed, ready for Sara Beth to arrive with her father, to drive them the 73 miles to Tri-Cities Airport.

She stretches her hands above her head, reaching for the ceiling on tiptoes, and then she turns around to discover that her suitcase has gone.

Sand returns to her mouth, air locked in her throat, shoulders tight. Her future has been stolen, hidden away. She imagines her father, creeping into her room in the night. Dammit, they had a deal!

And then her eyes adjust to the dark, and the suitcase appears, there all along.

Cassie exhale, long and slow. She imagines smoking a cigarette, a forbidden habit.

Chill out.

There’s a fantastic French expression…

Her forehead wrinkles. Four years of French and Cassie comes up with nothing. She pads over to the Paris map for inspiration.

And then she understands that the problem is something entirely different.

As her eyes travel from word to word, hot panic and shame returns.

Because Cassie can’t read any of it.

She backs away from the map, as if it might contain a virus, one that is making her illiterate.

Chill out.

Her French hasn’t gone, there’s no way.

She goes to the nightstand and sees the gift her father had given her. She had left it open overnight. Fallen asleep to it. She gently closes the lid and then she picks up her phone.

She’ll call Sara Beth. It’s early, but her friend has the same plane to catch, and maybe the same anxious feelings, although there’s no way Sara Beth wets the bed. There’s no way Sara Beth sees things that aren’t there.

Her fingerprint wakes up the phone, but after that, Cassie is lost.

It’s not just French that’s gone.

She stares at the screen, where nothing makes sense, and she drops the phone. It will do nothing for her.

And that’s when she calls out.

“Dad.” She runs to the bedroom door, yanks it open. “Dad!”

“Honey?” His voice from the bottom of the stairs. “Time to get up. I’m making pancakes.”

“Daddy!”

That name works better. He thumps up the stairs, snapping on the light as he enters the bedroom. “What is it?”

He’s already dressed, blue polo shirt and khaki pants, with a fleck of shaving foam above his ear.

“Daddy,” Cassie says, her voice a tight whine, “I don’t feel good.”

He touches her forehead. “You don’t have a fever. How’s your throat?”

Cassie shakes her head impatiently. “No, Daddy, I mean the…” She waves at the map. I forgot how to read, she doesn’t say. I forgot my numbers. Because that’s too much, that’s down the tunnel with no way back. “My eyes are a little…things are kinda fuzzy.”

Her father stops. He looks into her eyes.

“How do you mean?” he asks softly. “What can you see?”

She bites her lip, looks up at the map, traces streets with her finger. “It’s…” She shrugs her shoulders, and what she wants to do is collapse in a heap, what she really wants is to burst into tears. And then Daddy can take care of her. Daddy can make it all better.

They can begin their day like the good old days, with Daddy brushing her hair, helping her get dressed. And then pancakes for breakfast. 

Instead, she turns to her father and says, “I think I’m just nervous. About the flight and stuff.” She gives another shrug. “I’ll be better after I take a shower.”

“Oh, honey,” Dad says. “Oh, my girl.”

“What?” Cassie asks. “What is it?”

He puts his hands on her shoulders. “Honey, this is how it started with your mom…”

Cassie pulls away. “No! I’m not like that!”

“It’s not something anyone chooses, honey. It’s not your fault…” He sighs. “I’m just glad this happened before you got on the plane.” He rubs the back of his neck, retrieves his phone with the other hand.

“Who you calling?”

“Imagine you being all alone in Paris, and then…”

“Daddy.”

Dad shrugs. “I’m sorry, Cassie, I have to call Sara Beth’s father. You can’t travel.”

Cassie’s mouth opens wide, as if she will scream. Instead, she shakes her head. “No. Dad. Please. I’m not like Mom.”

Dad points at the map. “This is exactly how it started with your mother. She had all that anxiety and then she started forgetting thing. And you’ve been like that, the last few days, haven’t you.” He gives his daughter a soft smile. “You’ve been a little bit addlepated.”

Somehow, Cassie smiles back. It’s the word, that silly tease, it reminds her that Dad is here to help. Because Daddy knows best, after all.

But the idea of not going to Paris! Of Sara Beth leaving without her?

Cassie shakes her head. “I’ve just been distracted, Dad.” She wishes in the moment that she wasn’t in her pajamas, and she wishes even more strongly that she wasn’t wearing her damp Depends.

As if reading her mind, Dad says, “I knew it was bad when your mom forgot…” He pauses, looks at his daughter. “Honey, have you been having…accidents?”

Cassie’s face warms. “What do you mean?”

“You know…like maybe you forgot to go to the bathroom.”

The hot shame comes back, warming her chest, prickling her scalp with heat. “No,” she lies in a whisper. “No way.”

Perhaps her father will pursue the point. He will insist on pulling down her shorts, checking for dryness. He will find the damp Depends, and that will be that. Because it will be proof positive; Cassie is addlepated, she is just like her mother.

He doesn’t. “Well, that’s something,” he says. He strokes his chin thoughtfully, which is better than using his phone to call Sara Beth’s father.

“Dad, I think it’s just, I got a little panicky, about traveling.” She smiles. “I’m actually feeling a lot better now.” She points above the map. “Impossible n’est pas français,” she reads. “Like, nothing’s impossible.” Except, she doesn’t read it. It’s just what she remembers.

Dad puts his phone away. “Okay,” he says, “I’m sorry. I guess, with  what happened to your mom, I over-reacted.” He nods. “Let’s give it a next few minutes, see how you’re feeling.” He goes over to the nightstand and picks up last night’s gift. “Did you listen to your music box last night?”

“Yes, Dad. It’s pretty.”

He winds the brass key.

“Dad, I like the music but I don’t think we’ve got time for-“

“It was the only thing that calmed your mom,” replies Dad. “She got into such a state, got so overwhelmed with her responsibilities, and then she was seeing things that just weren’t there, she was acting like…well, you know.” He finishes winding and then opens the lid, resting the box on the nightstand. He steps back and takes Cassie’s hand as the music begins to play.

It’s a twinkling melody that Cassie can’t identify. As she listens, it occurs to her that the tune doesn’t really go anywhere, just seems to loop back and repeat. Like the little ballerina in the box, she supposes, twirling around and around and around. Like Rapunzel stuck in her tower, she thinks fleetingly, remembering a Disney movie she watched again and again when she was little. Like Cassie stuck in…

She blinks. She finds herself on her knees, staring at the ballerina.

“It’s okay,” says Dad. He crouches next to her, strokes her back. “It’s good to relax. I wish your mom had done the same.” And then Mom would be home all the time, and not just on holidays. And then Mom wouldn’t be dressed like a little girl. And then Mom….would really be Mom.

Cassie blushes, closes the music box, and feels a curious mixture of relief and regret when the music stops.

“I do feel better,” she says, “I think the music helped,” which is true.

“And my reading’s coming back,” Which is a lie, but she’s not going to let her father believe that his daughter has gone the same condition as his wife. Because this is about more than a trip to Europe. It’s Cassie’s entire future, from Woke Forest and beyond. She’s about to start university, not a special school for the mentally-challenged. She’s going to have adventures and meet boys, not dress and act like a giggling fool.

No. That’s not right, thinking of her mother that way. How does the town describe those women? Forever innocents.

Yes. That’s better. Because they really are blameless. Still, Cassie doesn’t want to end up as one of them.

“I’m calm,” she says, as much to herself as to her father.

Dad nods, strokes her hair. “You have to tell me, Cassie, if you start having strange thoughts. If you start seeing things like you’re…” He doesn’t finish the sentence.

He doesn’t have to. If she starts seeing things like Mom. Seeing herself as a little girl. Just like all the forever innocents.

“Promise?”

Cassie nods. “Yes, Dad.”

Dad chuckles. “I’m not letting any addlepated young ladies leave the house.”

Addlepated. The word echoes in Cassie’s head for a moment, bouncing off the music box melody. She giggles. “I’m not addle…I’m not mixed up, Daddy.” And she hugs her father, her heart filled with affection.

Dad returns the squeeze. “Get dressed, then. Got your travel outfit picked out?”

Cassie nods, points at the closet. “All set.”

“Okay, then. See you downstairs for pancakes.”

Cassie watches her father leave, and then looks at the Paris map. The letters are no more than squiggles, but then again, French is a tough language to learn. She’ll be better later, as long as she doesn’t get overwhelmed. As long as she stays calm. She considers opening the music box again, but decides against it. She doesn’t need to be soothed like a child. She’s eighteen years old. She can take care of herself.

She takes the deepest of breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. She rolls her shoulders.

She’ll take her clothes to the bathroom and then take her shower. Wash off last night’s accident, begin the day clean and refreshed. Cassie smiles. By the time she gets back to her bedroom, she’ll be back to reading like a champ.

Cassie smiles, opens the closet, and she gasps.

To be continued...