Flood

It was cute watching Charlotte getting embarrassed. My mother wouldn’t let me live it down that night at dinner. Charlie had gone back to her dorm to work on her business homework. My mom told my dad what happened and he had a good laugh about it, too.

“Please tell me we won’t be having a Little Vance any time soon,” my mom said and I cringed.

“Trust me, you’re safe there.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

“How are things at the hospital?” I asked my dad, picking up the plates to put them in the dishwasher.

“Norman is the worst employee to ever step foot in that hospital,” he sighed. “He doesn’t get his work done on time and all he does is complain.”

I laughed. “I could’ve told you that. Has he worked with Zachary at all?” My dad sighed and put the casserole dish we had gotten our dinner from on the counter. “What is it?”

“Zachary is dying,” my dad whispered.

I sat down heavily in a stool we had for the island. “What?”

He sat in the other stool and ran a hand through his hair. “He has lung cancer. He refuses to accept treatment.”

“Why?”

“They found it too late.”

My mom had come in, avoiding our eyes. Zachary meant a lot to my mom. After her dad killed himself, Zachary had become like a father to her. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through right now.

“How long does he have left?” I asked.

My mom cleared her throat a couple times. “T-Two months.”

“Oh Mom,” I groaned and pulled her into a tight hug.

She cried into my shoulder. I had grown a few inches taller than her, something I teased her constantly about. Now, though, I made a promise to never tease her again. My dad hugged her from behind and we stood in the kitchen for several minutes, letting the news sink in and the grief pass.

“I have to start making preparations,” she whispered finally.

“What about his children? Doesn’t he have two?”

My mother’s face darkened. “Never talk about those two ungrateful little brats again,” she snapped and stormed up the stairs.

I cringed and looked to my dad.

“They called her two days ago,” he sighed, helping me put the dishes in the dishwasher. “Apparently they don’t want to come to the funeral.”

“Do they live in another state?”

He shook his head. “No; they’re more interested in the money. They called her to ask if she knew how much he was leaving them in his will.”

I whistled. “I bet she loved that.”

He chuckled. “I haven’t heard her yell that loud in a very long time. Are you okay?” he whispered and I shook my head.

“I’m going to go to bed early,” I muttered. “I have school in the morning.”

“All right. Good night.”

“Night, Dad.”

I changed into my pajamas and put my phone on its charger. I stared out the window. Zachary was a big part of all of our lives. I remember how he was the one who taught me how to shave because my dad was sick. He was at every birthday, every baseball game, every anniversary, and he had once bailed me out of jail and swore not to tell my parents. I rolled onto my back and closed my eyes, trying to sleep.

My alarm went off at 7 but it might as well have just not been on. I didn’t sleep at all. I got dressed, grabbed my books, and jogged down the stairs. My parents weren’t up and I didn’t want to bother my mom. I took an apple and drove to the nearest Starbucks to get a coffee to wake me up. Usually Professor Ferrell didn’t like us bringing in drinks like that but I needed it.

I ate the apple on the way to campus, my mind distracted. Even though it had been nearly 15 years, I hadn’t gotten over my aunt’s death. How would I ever cope with Zachary’s? I sighed and parked, gulping down my coffee. I was incredibly early; it was only 7:30. I let some tears fall. I didn’t want to cry while I was in class. I got out of the car at 7:50.

“You’re early.”

I turned to see Professor Ferrell walking up with his laptop tucked under his arm.

“Yeah, I thought I’d come and set up my stuff,” I muttered, opening the door for him.

“Are you all right?”

I sighed, taking a big drink from my coffee to give myself a chance to swallow my tears.

“Rough night last night,” I whispered and he stared at me with concern etched on his face.

“Is it from the bar fight?”

“No…. Family member is about to die,” I said finally and he sighed, giving me a quick hug.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.”

“Thanks….”

“We’re starting to paint the sketches today. You can skip if you want.”

“No. I want to see Charlotte.”

He smiled. “Are you two finally dating?”

I nodded as he hooked up his computer. “You made us partners on purpose, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t make you do anything,” he said innocently and I cocked a brow. He chuckled. “Yeah, I did. You’re a hard case, Mr. Vance, and she was new. I figured you two would work well together. I saw the sketch she did of the broken bottle. There’s more to it than over flowing beer.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He looked at me over his glasses. “Do you?”

I frowned but the doors opened and the rest of my classmates came in. Professor Ferrell had the custodians put up five white tables and we sat at each one. Charlotte walked in with a big smile on her beautiful face and I did my best to return it.

“What is it?” she asked.

I sat down and scratched my head with both hands. Come on, Spencer. She’s the last person you need to cry in front of.

“I’ll tell you after class,” I said finally.

She nodded but sat down without pressing the issue. Professor Ferrell passed around small canvases for us to begin painting. I didn’t make it far, though, before my grief took over and I gripped my hair. I heard Charlie stand up. She grabbed my arm and pulled gently. I let her pull me out of the building. I took a few deep breaths but fell to my knees, sobbing into my hands.

“Spencer,” she said in a pained voice. She wrapped her arms around me. “Spencer, tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

I couldn’t speak for a while and she kissed my head, whispering comforting words into my ear.

“Zachary’s dying,” I choked out finally.

“Who’s Zachary?”

“My grandfather,” I whispered.

Briefly, I explained his relationship with our family. She held me close and I continued to cry.

“Okay, sweetheart,” she whispered. “You need to calm down or you’re going to make yourself-”

I turned away and threw up on the sidewalk. She sighed and rubbed my back until I stopped. The door opened and Professor Ferrell came out with our things.

“Take him home,” he said softly, passing my stuff to her.

“I will.”

She helped me to my car and drove me home. My parents were both in the kitchen as I stumbled in, leaning against Charlie for support. My mother started crying but I had Charlie take me to my room. I sat down heavily and she took my shoes off for me. She put me under the covers then joined me.

“What about your classes?” I asked in a hoarse voice.

“You’re more important,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around me.