The Winner's Game(41)
On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday the Oregon rain settles in again, meaning more time stuck indoors.
Meaning more fighting. I try to stay away from Bree and Cade as much as I can, because I really have no desire to argue with them over stupid things like who chews food the loudest or whose turn it is to fix the bunny ears so we can watch a show. Frankly, I’d rather be by myself. When I’m alone, in peace and quiet, I find it much easier to imagine what my life would be like if I didn’t have such a crappy heart. Maybe if I were healthy, I’d run a marathon. Maybe I’d even win! Perhaps I’d make it to the Olympics in the two-hundred-meter Butterfly. Who knows, maybe if I didn’t have this stupid heart condition, I’d have been willing to flirt a little with that cute boy at the candy shop.
Tanner. Oh, the possibilities!
Thursday brings sunshine, but I discover this much too early in the morning, thanks to my mom. “Cock-a-doodle-doo, slumber jacks! It’s time to greet the dawn!”
My body says that it isn’t time to get up yet. My mouth groggily says, “What?”
“Hurry up out of bed,” chirps Mom again. “C’mon, girls, up and at ’em.”
“It’s six thirty,” Bree moans. “And summer. Why are you waking us up?”
“I know, I’m sorry. But if we don’t get going soon, we may be late. After all, the early bird gets the cameo.”
I lift my head and pull at a tangle of hair. “What?”
“The early bird gets the cameo,” she repeats.
“It gets the worm.”
Cade is standing in the doorway. “A cameo is a worm?”
“No, it’s a—What do you mean, ‘Gets the cameo’? Cameo for what?”
Now Mom is all smiles. “It’s a secret until you’re downstairs ready to go. I’m not going to force you out of bed, but if you want to start enjoying this summer, I suggest you shake a leg. This early bird is heading for Astoria in fifteen minutes, with or without you.”
At a quarter to seven everyone is in the living room, ready to go, except for me. I need an extra minute to find my learner’s permit, which I hold up for all to see as I come down the stairs. “Twenty-one months I’ve had this,” I say, making sure Mom gets a good look at it. “In that time I’ve driven exactly seven times.” I lower the laminated card. “Can I please try driving today?”
“Oh, honey,” Mom replies, as though it’s the silliest idea in the world. “You know I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one thing you don’t even know how to drive that old car.”
“I can learn. If you can do it I can do it.”
“I know, but…your health, Ann.”
“Aren’t I healthy enough to drive?”
“Yes, I suppose. You’re physically capable, but…what if you get into an accident? Beginner drivers aren’t known to be safe. Let’s just wait until after your transplant. What’s so wrong with that?”
“I thought you’d say that.” I dig into my purse once more and retrieve my diary. “I wrote this down yesterday: We shouldn’t measure lives by their length. There’s nothing that says eighty years is better than fifty years is better than fifteen. It’s how we live that counts.” Looking up, I ask simply, “Sound familiar?”
My mother doesn’t respond.
“Mom, I want to start living. I’m not frail. I’m not bedridden. I simply need a new heart, and I’m either going to get one or I’m not. But until I do, I’m tired of doing nothing while I wait around to find out if I’m going to live or die.”
She takes several long breaths, studying me intently the whole time. Finally she gives a pouty frown but holds out the key to the car. “I can’t believe you quoted me.”
“Seriously? I get to drive?”
“Only if you promise to listen to everything I say.”
“I will! I totally will.”
“And we’ll have to go extraslow, so I can’t promise that we’ll make it in time for the cameo.”
Bree is dying to speak. “You still haven’t told us what kind of cameo you’re talking about. What’s it for?”
I’ve never seen such a giant smile grow on my mother’s face. “A movie,” she says with a bit of flair, complete with epic hand motions. “A real-life Hollywood film! I read in yesterday’s paper that they need more extras today for some big scenes.”
I feel an instant rush of butterflies. “Shut. Up.”
“Yeah, don’t joke,” warns Bree. “Because being in a movie would be beyond totes cool.”