Avalanche Dance (16 page)

She wails, holding herself. “And he got hurt so bad … and he might never get better … and it’s all my fault!”

“Gwen –”

“And I hardly got hurt at all!” She strikes her leg as if trying to inflict more pain.

“Gwen, stop it.”

“It’s so unfair –”

“Gwen –”

“I can never make up for it. Never!”

I don’t know what to do to get her to stop, so I do the first thing that comes to mind. Grab her shoulders and shake her. “Shut up!”

She looks at me, stunned.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was.”

“No –”

She shakes her head. “I don’t care what you say, I know what I did.”

“You
didn’t cause the avalanche!”

“But I wouldn’t come down.”

“So? Would it have made any difference? If you came down when your dad said you should, would you still have got caught in it?”

A pause. I watch her eyes flick back and forth, as if she’s replaying the scene, calculating. “Yes.”

“See?”

“But – but it’s not fair that he got hurt so bad and I didn’t.”

“Yeah. It’s not.”

Gwen nods. “That’s why I –”

“You’re not God. It’s not
your
fault your dad got it worse.

Things happen.”

Gwen’s eyes fill with tears. “But if I hadn’t –”

“Enough already. Stop blaming yourself for something you didn’t do.”

This look comes over her face. A lightening. A lifting. It’s as if I can see inside her head. I can see her mind go toward that thought, then skitter away, afraid to trust it.

“There’s only one way to get over this, Gwen,” I say.

“What?”

“Talk to your dad.”

A pause. “I can’t.”

“You’ve got to.”

“But he’s – he’s not well enough.”

“No excuses, Gwen.”

“But – but what if he won’t talk to me?” Then, softer, “What if he doesn’t forgive me?”

“He will.”

I can feel her holding her breath. “Do you really think so?” It’s a whisper.

I nod.

Her face cracks. It melts. Then, without warning, she throws her arms around me and starts sobbing. These are sobs from deep in the belly, wracking, grunting cries. She clings to me, and I cling to her, and then I’m crying too. I’m bawling, pressing my face into her skinny, frail shoulder.

“Oh, Molly … Molly …” she gasps.

She cries, her slender body shaking until, gradually, her sobs lessen and hush and finally stop. Heaving a sigh, she pushes herself away. Her eyes are red, her nose is running, tears cling to her lashes, but she gives me a tremulous smile.

“Molly?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Embarrassed, I wave a hand. “I didn’t –”

“No. Really. Thanks.”

I stand. Put out my hand and pull Gwen up. I can see that there’s a lightness, albeit a tired one, about her – and I’m happy for her, really I am, and I’m glad I helped. But at the same time, I feel funny. Now what? Where do I stand? Are we friends again? Or will we go back to the way it was? And what then? What if Gwen turns away again? Who do I have?

I feel that yawning hole again. The emptiness.

I put my hands in my pockets and feel a paper there. I pull it out. It’s the form from Cal.

I’m free
, I think bitterly.

“What’s that?” Gwen asks.

“My release form. Saying I’ve served my probation. Finished my community service work. I’m through here.”

Yeah, I’m free all right
. I shove the paper back in my pocket.

Gwen’s face hardens. “So go,” she says harshly. “I’m not keeping you.”

“What?”

“Go,” Gwen says again. “You’ve done your time. You have the paper to prove it.”

“Gwen –”

“You don’t want to be here, Molly. So just go back to your new friends!”

I jerk.

“They’re waiting for you to
have fun
, right? And I’m no fun, remember?”

She glares at me. I turn and run out of the house. But once on the porch, I can’t go any farther. I collapse on a chair and bury my face in my hands.

Gwen sank into a living room chair, heartbroken. She had thought that she and Molly were pulling back together. Molly had reached out to her, and Gwen had confessed her darkest secret and cried on Molly’s shoulder. And now, all Molly cared about was that she was finished with her community service work and didn’t have to stick around any longer.

Tears stung Gwen’s eyes.
Stupid
, she scolded herself,
to let this hurt all over again
.

Wiping her eyes, she heard something. Percy? No, quiet upstairs. Seemed to be outside.

She listened. A bird? An animal crying out?

She crossed to the kitchen door and opened it. A shape huddled in the dim light.

“Molly!”

She was curled on a chair, arms wrapped around her legs, sobbing.

Gwen reached out a hand. “Molly, what – “

Molly pulled deeper into herself.

“Molly, what is it? What’s the matter?”

Molly jerked away. Deep wrenching cries came from her.

“Molly, please … I’m sorry I said that about your friends.”

A wail. “I … have … no … friends.”

Gwen hesitated. Then she lowered herself onto the chair, squeezing beside Molly. She put her arms around her. She didn’t say anything, just held Molly as she cried.

Finally Molly began to speak. She told Gwen about how much fun she’d been having, how she’d thought she was part of the group, how she’d felt even more in the thick of things when she’d found them a place to party.

“Oh, Gwen, I’m so sorry about the cabin!” she said, weeping again.

Gwen waited.

“When the fire started, I was so panicked, I didn’t know what to do. We just had to save the cabin – I couldn’t let it burn down! – but it spread so fast … and they didn’t do anything. They were so freaked out … . They batted out a few sparks, but then they just took off.” Molly sniffled. “I was so hurt. I mean, they left me there in the flames! But at the same time, I couldn’t blame them. It
was
terrifying. I was freaked out too.”

After her arrest, Molly explained, she kept waiting for the others to come forward and share the blame.

“No one did,” she said in a heavy voice. “No one even called to say they were sorry or see how I was.” She dashed tears from her eyes. “But I told myself they were just afraid. I mean, Tony had been busted before, and Zach had been picked up for underage drinking, so they couldn’t risk getting in trouble again. I told myself they were just lying low, that as soon as
my probation was over they’d all come back, and it would be just like before.” Tears filled her eyes. “But today …” Her lip trembled. “Today …”

“What, Molly?” Gwen touched her shoulder. “What happened?”

Tears rolled down Molly’s cheeks as she told Gwen what Constable Sawchuk had said. “They never cared about me, Gwen! They were never really my friends. I was just someone to party with … someone to find them a free place to get drunk in … and then … forget about.” She put her hands over her face. “Oh, Gwen, how could I have been so stupid?”

Gwen stroked her shoulder. “You’re not stupid.”

“I am!” Molly moaned. “And now … now …” She pulled her legs up into a tuck position, lowered her head to her knees, and sobbed, “ I have no one.”

Gwen waited until Molly’s cries were stilled. For a brief moment, she thought about what her other friends would say. Carley and Susie and Janelle would think she’d gone off her rocker, hooking up with Molly again. But she didn’t care. They all used to be friends. Maybe they could be again. In the meantime, it didn’t matter. Molly was back. That was what mattered now.

“Molly,” she said softly, “you have me.”

“H
ey.” Molly nudged Gwen. “We’re here.”

Gwen turned with a start, looking out the bus window. She saw a parking lot full of buses, a huge stone terminal, and warehouses across the street.

“C’mon,” Molly said, pulling Gwen’s sleeve, “we get off here.”

As if in a dream, Gwen followed her off the bus. That was how she had been all the way down the coast, in some kind of unreal, numb, this-isn’t-me-and-I’m-not-really-doing-this state.

Her mother didn’t know she was here. Bridget was actually on her way home. Gwen had left a long explanatory note and arranged for Percy to stay with Sally. She knew her mother wouldn’t be happy.

But it wasn’t her mother she was worried about – it was her father. All during the ride, she’d run through scenarios. He’d be near death, too weak to see her, and she’d never get a chance to talk to him. He’d be angry. He’d be having another operation. He’d refuse to see her.

In the bus depot, Molly asked directions. They caught a city bus south, then transferred to another going west. Storefronts and low-rise apartments gave way to classy old houses, a shopping district, city hall. Then – the tower of Vancouver General.

Gwen stopped at the entrance, leaning on her cane. Her leg throbbed.
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t
–

“Come on,” Molly said, taking her free arm. Then, more gently, “It’ll be all right.”

Gwen followed her inside. Lobby. Reception desk. Phones ringing. People. Lots of them. Even at night. People in wheelchairs. People clutching bouquets of flowers, magazines, fluffy stuffed animals. Over the PA a voice said, “Doctor Robinson, call 1-2-4. Doctor Robinson.”

Molly guided her down the hallway, past reception, the nurse looking curiously after them but too busy to do anything about it. Past X-ray. Pediatrics. Ultrasound.

Then – Intensive Care Unit.

Gwen stopped, her mouth dry.

“Can I help you?” asked a nurse. She sat at a desk; behind her, double glass doors marked the entrance to the ward.

“Andrew Torrance,” Gwen managed to say.

The nurse shook her head.

“This is his daughter,” Molly asserted.

“Gwen?”

Gwen nodded.

The nurse smiled. “He’s told me about you.”

Gwen’s mouth was too dry to smile.
What did he say?

“Can she see him?” Molly asked.

“He’s not here anymore,” the nurse said.

“Where is he?”

“Moved to a surgical unit a couple of days ago,” the nurse said. “He had renal surgery – yesterday, I believe. Should be out of post-op by now.”

Oh God, was that good or bad?

Down the hall, up another elevator, down another hall. Trolleys of empty food trays. Patients pushing IV stands. “Doctor Sharpe to Emergency. Doctor Sharpe,” said a voice over the PA.

Another nursing station. Molly spoke to the nurse.

“Are you family?” the nurse asked.

“I am,” Gwen replied.

“Only family allowed,” the nurse said to Molly. “You’ll have to wait here.”

Gwen turned her terror-filled eyes toward Molly.

“Go on,” Molly said softly, “you’ll be fine. I’ll be right here.”

Gwen turned, limped down the hall to the room the nurse had pointed out. The door was slightly ajar. She took a deep breath and pushed it open all the way.

He was sleeping, propped up on pillows. Green hospital gown, IV drip in his arm, head lolling to the side. His beard was longer, his face thinner – no, not just his face, his whole body, like a shrunken version of his old self. Even in sleep, his face looked more lined.

His eyes opened. Stared a moment. “Gwen!” Raspy, hoarse.

“Daddy!”

He held out his arms. She rushed in. The cane fell to the floor.

“Dad –” She burst into tears.

“Gwennie, my sweet girl, you’re okay, you’re okay. I’m sorry, I’m so terribly sorry –” Tears slid down his cheeks.

Choking off a cry, Gwen lifted her head. “What?”

He paused a moment, regaining control, then seemed to make an effort to speak. “For letting you get hurt. If you only knew what I’ve been going through, worrying about you –”

“Worrying about
me?
But Dad, it was
my
fault.”

“What do you mean?”

Gwen forced herself to look in his eyes. “For arguing. For refusing to go down. For making us stay up there too late –”

The flood burst. She lay her head down on his chest and sobbed.

“Oh, Gwen, is that what you’ve been thinking?”

She nodded against his chest.

“Gwen, you’re wrong, completely wrong. It was my fault.”

Gwen began, “But –”

“No,” he said sharply.

She lifted her head.

“Now, you listen to me, Gwen. You’re a kid, I’m an adult. I was responsible. I should have known better. God, I
did
know better, that’s the hell of it. I knew, when we were talking to
Simon, even before then, when the weather changed, that it wasn’t safe, that we should get down. When my skis were sticking – remember? – I knew the conditions were changing. But I didn’t want to, I was having too much fun –”

“But I argued. I skied away –”

“It was too late long before that. And I knew it.” His voice cracked. “When Mom told me you hurt your leg, you couldn’t dance, you were depressed –”

“But you were hurt so bad.”

“Lucky to be alive.”

“Daddy, I’m so sorry.” She started crying again.

“Gwen, have you been blaming yourself this whole time?”

She nodded.

“Oh, honey, what you’ve gone through! Listen. We didn’t get caught because of that argument. We got caught because I was a fool, and because we had bad luck. That’s all. Do you hear me?”

She looked at him. Hesitantly, she nodded again.

He took her hands. “Gwen, will you forgive me?”

“Oh, Dad!” Arms around each other, they cried, then finally dried their eyes and sat looking at each other.

Gwen put a hand on his arm. “What about you? Will you be okay?”

He sighed. “It’s been rough, I won’t deny it, and it’s going to take a long time to get my strength back. But yes, I think so. My other kidney seems to be okay, and my collapsed lung is
better, and I seem to be fine without my spleen. Won’t be doing any telemarking for a while, though.”

Gwen managed a smile.

“What about your leg?” he asked.

She shrugged. “It hurts.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. They can’t find anything wrong.” When he didn’t answer, she added, “They think it’s all in my head.”