If This Is Home Page 3

  When my guests had arrived, Mom had poured them tall glasses of iced tea and fawned over their outfits. Nobody had seemed to mind how ugly our backyard was or how plain the party was. But I’d sat sullen, unable to shake the disappointment of my father not showing up. Didn’t he know how important birthdays were? And, of all birthdays, this one?

  I have friends here who think you don’t even exist! I wanted to scream.

  “Why don’t we open gifts?” Mom had said brightly. She’d gathered the gifts and set them before me. I’d stared at them without moving. My friends had shifted uncomfortably in their seats, wondering why I looked so miserable.

  “Go on, Jayce,” Mom had said, her tone serious. She’d given me a look to tell me to smarten up, but I hadn’t cared.

  I’d started ripping bright red wrapping paper off one of the gifts, but I hadn’t been able to muster the energy to look excited. Underneath the paper there had been a jewellery box covered in bright pink velvet. It had fake jewels glued on the top. It was from Monica, a girl I’d gone to school with since kindergarten.

  “That is SO beautiful!” my mom had oozed. She’d squeezed Monica’s shoulders affectionately. The girls had oohed and aahed at my gift.

  “Do you like it?” Monica had asked. She’d seemed puzzled by my lack of reaction to what everyone else thought was such a nice gift. I hadn’t meant to be so disrespectful, I really hadn’t, but all I could think about was how badly I wanted another life. One with a nice house and a pretty yard. One with a dad.

  I’d pursed my lips together when I’d started to feel them tremble, but the flood of emotion had been too strong. I’d burst into tears.

  “Mmm … maybe we should go,” Jaclyn had suggested. Everyone had looked very uncomfortable. Even my mom couldn’t keep acting as though everything was okay. All at once the girls had started to rise from the table and gather their things. A pile of presents sat unopened on the table. Even the cake was untouched, the candles unlit.

  “Are you sure, girls? We haven’t even had cake!” Mom had said, with panic in her voice.

  “How could someone be so ungrateful?” I’d heard Monica say as they walked toward the gate. Amanda had slowed her pace and turned toward me while the other girls continued walking.

  “Yeah, and see? I told you she didn’t have a dad!” Jaclyn had added.

  I’d wanted to sink into the ground. I’d wanted to die from embarrassment. I’d wanted to scream as loud as I could from all the hurt I was feeling. Instead, I’d sobbed uncontrollably.

  “Thank you for coming, girls!” Mom had called after them as they’d hurried out of the yard, grateful to be leaving. Then Mom had picked up the torn wrapping paper from the grass and stuffed it into a plastic bag. Amanda had stayed back to help her.

  “Thank you, Amanda,” Mom had said. Amanda had ran up to me and whispered sorry and patted my back before heading back home, but I hadn’t been able to say anything.

  “I’ll just go and get these glasses washed up,” Mom had said to me gently.

  I’d nodded through my sobs, unable to stop the flood of tears.

  “Where’s my little Jaybird?” Dad’s familiar voice had called out from the entrance of the gate. Mom had run out of the house toward him, throwing her arms around him.

  “Eleanor,” he’d breathed as he held her close. “Have I missed you.” I could just feel her excitement at being in his arms. They’d stood in a tight embrace for several moments.

  “Jayce —” Mom had turned in my direction, leading Dad toward me. She’d glowed with happiness. “I told you he’d be here.”

  My dad had released his grip on my mom’s hand and had come toward me with his arms outstretched.

  “Why in the world is my baby girl crying on her birthday?” he’d said, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. He’d stood waiting for me to jump into his arms like always, but I just couldn’t do it. Not this time.

  “You’re too late!” I’d shrieked.

  I’d stormed past him and run into the house. I’d gone straight to my room and slammed the door. He’d come after me and grabbed me before I could make it to my bed.

  “I’m here, J.J.,” he’d reminded me. He’d put his arms around me and squeezed me tight, sending me back into uncontrollable sobs. I’d wanted to hit him, push him away, and make him feel like garbage for not being around. But it didn’t matter how mad I was. The feel of his strong arms around me, holding me tight, and the smell of him, had made me crumple in defeat. No matter how desperately I’d wanted to hate him, I couldn’t. I actually have a dad. And he’s here. Finally.

  “Has she woken up yet?”

  My thoughts are broken by the sound of someone’s voice. It’s a nurse, coming to check my mother’s vitals. I rub my eyes and sit straighter in my seat as I watch her.

  “She’s been like this for hours,” I tell the nurse. She’s middle-aged, plump, and pretty. She gives me a sympathetic smile as she gingerly lifts Mom’s arm to take her blood pressure.

  “Rest is really important for her right now.”

  “Is she in any pain?”

  “I think she’s comfortable,” the nurse assures me. “I’ll be back to check on her again in a little while. Remember to buzz the nurse’s station if you need anything.” She holds the buzzer out for me to see, and I nod. She writes information on the clipboard at the edge of the bed.

  Joelle stirs from her sleep on the chair and stretches her limbs. Her hair has come loose from its ponytail and tendrils of curls sprout from every direction.

  “J.J., I’m hungry,” Joelle whines. I try to smooth her hair back.

  “I know, honey.” We haven’t brought any food with us and I have no money.

  “Would you like some toast?” the nurse asks. “I can make some for you in the kitchen.”

  Joelle nods and leaps off the chair. “Can I come with you?” she asks with her dazzling smile.

  “Of course, sweetie pie.” The nurse smiles. She holds out her hand for Joelle to take it and Joelle does so without hesitation.

  “I better come, too,” I say. I don’t want to let Joelle out of my sight right now. There’s no telling what she might say to one of the hospital staff.

  Together, we walk down the hallway to the kitchen.

  “Help yourself, too, honey,” she says to me, taking out a loaf of bread. “Can I leave you to prepare it?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  I put two slices of bread in the toaster. Despite the trauma of the day, my stomach growls at the smell of the toast. Joelle pulls out little packages of butter and jam from a bowl on the counter. When the toast pops, she rubs her hands in anticipation.

  I pass the toast to her and decide to make some for myself. I have no idea how long we’ll be here and fresh, warm food would be a welcome taste. We stand in the kitchen, chewing greedily. I take a paper Dixie cup from the cup dispenser and fill it with cold water from the tap. We take turns sipping the water as we chew our toast.

  “Can I have more, please?” Joelle asks. I don’t want to eat too much of the hospital’s food, especially since we aren’t even patients here, but I also don’t know when we’ll be going home and when we’ll eat next.

  “One more slice each,” I agree.

  We finish our third slices and wash our hands in the sink. I wipe the counter to clean away any crumbs, and together Joelle and I head back toward Mom’s room. We hear voices as we approach.

  “Do you have family you can call? Is there another relative who can take care of the girls?” The voice belongs to a doctor standing next to Mom’s bed.

  “I have a sister who lives close by. She’ll come and stay at the house,” is Mom’s hoarse reply.

  My heart thumps in my chest. Mom doesn’t have a sister. At least, not one I’ve ever met. We enter the room and I look at my mom wide-eyed. She looks at me, but doesn’t bat an eye.


  “Would you like one of the nurses to call her for you?” the doctor offers.

  “I can call her myself,” Mom says.

  I stand, confused. What does Mom mean? And why does someone have to come and take care of us? The doctor sees us and smiles.

  “Very well, then. It’s important that you make those arrangements right away.”

  Mom nods and smiles sweetly at the doctor. She waits for him to leave before smiling at me.

  “Mom, what’s going on?” I say, panic creeping into my voice.

  “Jayce, we need to talk,” Mom says seriously. “Shut the door.”

  I close the door to her room while Joelle races to sit on the bed next to Mom. She clings to her and Mom strokes her forehead, brushing Joelle’s crazy curls from her face. Sensing something awful, my stomach churns and my heart thuds wildly in my chest.

  “I’m sick,” Mom says simply. “Really sick.” Her voice is barely a whisper.

  I flop onto the chair beside the bed, and all the air seems to get sucked from my lungs in a split second.

  “I know, but you’ll be better before you know it.”

  “I’m not sure this time, J.J.”

  “What do you mean, you’re not sure?”

  “It’s not that simple. I’ve got a mass — on my lungs. It … it …” A sob erupts from her. It’s deep and aching and I can feel her fear. “It’s cancer.”

  “What?!” I shriek. “How?! You’re supposed to have a bad cold. You said so yourself.”

  Joelle hums to herself, oblivious to what Mom’s words mean.

  “I’m afraid not,” Mom says gently.

  “So, what does this mean?” I bark. “You’re gonna …” I can’t even bring myself to say the word. Especially not with Ellie right here. I mean, cancer? The only people I’ve ever known to have cancer are Terry Fox and Amanda’s grandpa, and they died. Died.

  “I’ll fight this, but it is stage four already. That means it’s pretty advanced.”

  I stand stunned. Her words are like a punch to the stomach. Suddenly I regret the toast I’ve eaten, because I feel like I’m going to vomit. Joelle plays with Mom’s fingers and continues humming, filling the awkward silence between us.

  “J.J., things are going to be fine,” Mom says reassuringly, but I’m no idiot.

  “No, they’re not!” I stammer. “How can you say that? And you don’t have a sister who lives nearby, so what is that all about?”

  Mom clears her throat and rubs her eyes.

  “The hospital wants to know that there will be a caregiver at the house,” Mom explains. “Both for you guys and for me.”

  “But I can do that!” I protest.

  “There will be lots of medications. It’s not going to be easy,” Mom says.

  “It’s fine. I can do it! I take care of so much already!”

  “I can’t afford a caregiver,” Mom replies. “But the hospital wants to know that I’ll be discharged into someone’s care. A sixteen-year-old doesn’t count.”

  “But we don’t have an aunt,” I remind her.

  “The hospital doesn’t need to know that.”

  “You’re lying? And we do so have caregivers. What about Mrs. Johnson? Can’t she watch you and Ellie? Or what about Dad?”

  Mom glances at me wistfully. “That is my plan, Jayce, to track down your dad and have him come.”

  I nod, numb.

  “Mommy, when can we go home?” Joelle interrupts.

  “Soon, Ellie, soon,” Mom purrs at her. Joelle snuggles back into her.

  “Why not now?” she whines.

  “Mommy needs a bit more rest,” Mom explains.

  “But I wanna go NOW!” she pouts.

  “I can just take her, Mom. We’ll take the bus back for tonight and return in the morning.”

  Mom looks back and forth at the two of us, deciding what to do.

  “What about school? What about Ellie?” Mom asks.

  Ugh. The thought of having to go to school tomorrow is unbearable. But if I don’t go, the school will call.

  “I’ll handle it,” I say. I have no idea how I’m going to handle it.

  “Get me my purse,” she says, and I reach for her purse in the cupboard beside her bed. “Here are the bus passes.” She hesitates before passing them over. “Oh, J.J., I just don’t know.”

  The doctor enters the room again. He glances at his watch and looks at Ellie.

  “Almost time for bed, isn’t it, little one?” he says. Mom and I exchange nervous glances.

  “We’re just on our way,” I say brightly, reaching for Joelle. “Our aunt is waiting in the lobby. She had to park in the front loop, so we have to run down and meet her before she gets a ticket.” The story tumbles out of my mouth before I can stop. How can lying come to me so easily? The doctor seems satisfied with this and Mom gives me a grateful smile.

  Ellie follows me and blows Mom a kiss. Although she’s used to spending a lot of time with me while Mom is at work, she definitely recognizes that there is more going on here than usual. I can feel her apprehension at leaving the hospital without Mom.

  Ellie falls asleep on the bus ride home. When we reach our stop, I scoop her up from the seat, and she barely flinches. By the time I reach our front door, my arms are shaking from the strain of carrying her and sweat is dripping from my forehead. I transfer her to one of my shoulders so that I can fumble for my house key, and luckily I make it inside without disturbing her. I manage to slip off her shoes with one hand and decide that she can just sleep in her clothes. I quickly place her in her bed and kiss her cheek.

  Poor Ellie. She has no real clue about what is going on and what is going to happen to Mom. How do we even explain this to her?

  I return to the living room and turn on the TV. I can’t seem to concentrate on anything, but it’s nice to have the background noise and something to distract my thoughts. Hanging over the arm of the couch is Mom’s sweater. I grab it like it’s my lifeline and hug it tight. I take a deep breath, inhaling her scent, and the familiarity of it sends me into sobs.

  What if I lose her? Oh, God. I can’t lose her. She’s my mother. We’re too young to lose our mother. I wrap myself in her sweater, desperate for some comfort. Mom is going to need me to be strong. She needs me to take care of things. I let my body unleash all of the terror and sadness I’m feeling. I roll into a ball and cry until my head throbs and there’s nothing left.

  I can do this. I can be strong for everyone.

  Just not tonight.

  Chapter 3

  This may sound crazy, but Joelle has never met our dad. The night of my twelfth birthday, after my party fell apart and Dad showed up late, Dad ended up staying for four whole nights. It was enough time that I even got my hopes up that he might be staying with us for good, but I should’ve known better. On the fourth night I overheard my parents talking. It sounded tense and heated. I tiptoed to my doorway so I could make out what they were saying.

  “We can’t keep doing this, Joe.” Mom sounded tired. “We keep waiting around for you, and for what?”

  “What do you mean, for what? What is that supposed to mean?”

  “We need more than this. We want you to stay. Jayce deserves to have her father around.”

  “You know how it is, Eleanor.”

  “No, I don’t. Not anymore. I think you owe us more than a few nights and a cheque once in a while.”

  It got quiet.

  “That’s how you see me?” Dad’s voice was sharp.

  “I think it’s time you make a decision. Us or the band.” Mom’s words made my stomach flop. I crossed my fingers and shut my eyes tight. I held my breath, hoping he’d agree to stay.

  “Eleanor …”

  “I mean it.” It was silent again, until I heard the kitchen chair leg scrape against the floor, a
nd then footsteps. I ran back to my bed and pulled the covers over myself, but my heart was pounding. I heard Mom’s bedroom door close and I knew that she’d left Dad in the kitchen.

  The next morning I woke up to find Mom wiping her tears at the kitchen table. Dad’s shoes were missing from the front door. My heart dropped.

  A few months later, Mom announced that she was pregnant. Joelle was born exactly nine months after my twelfth birthday. In a way, I suppose she was the best thing to come out of that day. Mom tried to get a hold of Dad for months to let him know that they were expecting another child, but she couldn’t reach him. She tried calling the numbers of different places she knew he’d stayed at in the past, but no one would tell her where Dad was or how to contact him.

  When Joelle arrived, she was a welcome addition to our family. She brought me and Mom so much joy. I knew it hurt Mom terribly that my dad had no idea he had another daughter. Sometimes I’d see her wiping tears as she rocked Joelle to sleep.

  In the end, Mom gave up trying to find him. I just kept feeling angry that he was missing so much. Yeah, he’d missed so much with me, but with Joelle being a helpless little baby, it seemed doubly unfair to her. I was already used to it.

  At school I’d google “Raven’s Spell” and try to figure out where he was. Maybe I could convince him to come home, and Mom wouldn’t have to do everything herself. I could never find current touring information, only old dates from years past. I’d see pictures of him online from various gigs or band cover shots. His eyes were often closed, and he was always smiling widely while he played his guitar. Seeing his picture was both comforting and painful. It was reassuring to know he still existed, but it was never enough. It was mental torture, the feeling of wanting something so badly that I knew I couldn’t have. And knowing that he’d chosen to have it this way — that was a whole other kind of hurt altogether.

  Dad never showed up again. Not even for one night.

  He chose the band. No matter how much time passes, that still feels like a punch to the gut. He doesn’t even know that Joelle exists. My hands ball into fists. He’ll get to know her now, I tell myself. We’ll find him. But how will we find him? And what if he is hiding from us on purpose? What if he doesn’t want to be found? What then?