Chapter Nine: Rushed
Three months seemed to fly past. We’d had five successful broadcasts—each
one widening the fan base according to the activity online—and another one
scheduled for the week before Christmas. During the work week, Caroline surfed
the web, finding amusement in all the bloggers pretending to be her. She even
had fan groups and followings on social networks.
To further spread the word, she bought a new mechanism that would extend
the reach of the broadcast by 150 miles, making her total live outreach over a
200 plus mile radius. With the internet bloggers on her side, she was
worldwide. And for those people lucky enough to have a system setup to record
her broadcasts, her messages were available directly for free replay online. Most
of those were viewed well over a million times each. Needless to say, her ideas
were spreading and her optimism of a better future was infectious.
Myself? I was swept up in the research, trying to keep everything in some
semblance of organization, and attempting to find myself in the chaos along the
way. It had been so long since I had lived without him, I wasn’t sure who I was
on my own anymore. I doubted I had ever known. But Caroline and Ian insisted
the sooner I figured it out, the better I would feel about his decision. Then I
could be happy and move on. Unlike how Caroline made it sound, however, it was
anything but easy.
Over Thanksgiving, she left for home, saying there were too many family
things to discuss, but she’d drag me along for Christmas. Ian invited me to his
place for dinner, promising he wouldn’t make me cook too much. He already had
most of it started when I reached his loft. It was an open, artsy studio with
cement walls and floors, painted in splashes of color as though there had been
a paint war at some point in time. But it was homey. I made a mental note that
an apartment like this wouldn’t be half bad—when Caroline let me move out, of
course.
I had tried a few weeks after my high speed driving experience—I still didn’t
know how fast I had driven—and she nearly blew my head off. She insisted I
wasn’t emotionally fit to live on my own, and if I even thought about it before
she asked, she would start rationing how much of my paycheck was available to
me. I was fairly certain that was illegal, but there were worse things in life
than having a roommate.
But, back to Thanksgiving; Ian had already started a smoked turkey breast—since
a whole turkey didn’t make sense for two—stuffing, and gravy. He allowed me to
set the table while he checked to make sure the corn wasn’t overcooking in the
oven. When it was done, he opened a bottle of sparkling cider, explaining he
didn’t like to drink. I had no problem with it as I hadn’t been drunk in my
lifetime and the idea of alcohol was unappealing—considering the last time I
had any was in high school on a night I could live without ever remembering.
Neither of us spoke much while we ate; the company was healthy for us but
we had never really talked about anything unless Caroline was there to
instigate it. After Ian cleared the table and I washed the dishes, we sat down in
his living area with more cider.
“Why don’t you go home like Caroline?” Then realizing I might sound
ungrateful, I added, “Not that I haven’t enjoyed this; it’s really nice to have
someone to spend the holiday with.”
He nodded, grinning slightly at my worried babbling. “I could ask you the
same thing;” he sipped from his glass. “The short answer is I don’t know where
my family is.”
“What’s the long version?” I asked, curious as to why that statement
didn’t cause even a hint of sorrow in his voice. It felt more relaxed now that
the silence between us had been broken.
He sighed, shaking his head. “Basically, my parents always moved around a
lot when I was younger. I got tired of never being able to meet anyone or do
well enough in school not to be considered special needs, so I opted to crash
with my grandparents. They passed away a few years ago—within a few months of
each other.”
“I’m sorry,” I said instinctively. I winced, knowing it probably sounded more
habitual than sincere.
“Don’t be;” he waved it off like a cloud of smoke. “It happens. But,
that’s my excuse.”
“I can’t spend it with my mom because it’s not possible. As for my dad
and his wife—my other mother—I ran away years ago and haven’t talked to them
since. I don’t even know if I’d be welcome anymore.”
“You probably are,” he said, leaning forward on his elbows. “Welcome,
that is. They probably miss you.”
Gazing out the huge floor to ceiling windows, I wondered if I would try. If
one day I would decide to go home and see them. Would Mother think I was only
there for money? Would Dad even talk to me? Or would he be so reclusive that
would be impossible? I remembered him saying I was the only reason he could
stand missing Mom, and I couldn’t help but think if he was worse off, it was
because of me. If I explained, could he forgive me? Or would the only way to
fix things be to reunite him and Mom? Was that even possible?
“I don’t know if it would make things easier or more difficult,” I said,
trying to toss the thoughts from my mind. Things didn’t need to be more
complicated; I needed everything to be simplified. It was the only way I could
think of to put my life together enough to be useful to anyone.
“When you’re ready,” he said, sitting back again as though we had been
talking about something as simple as taking college courses or moving out.
From there, we talked about Caroline and the next broadcast, as well as
random points from her speeches. I discovered he and I actually thought about
things in much the same way. If he had been an elemental, I bet he would have
been air. Mostly because he put others first and himself second when thinking
about the consequences of actions—which seemed to be a trend I’d picked up
during my studying. He agreed there needed to be a change, but also that
rallying the people into anger wasn’t necessarily the best way—considering how
many people become uncontrollable and unpredictable when enraged.
I knew then that if I ever led my own revolution—if that’s what it was
supposed to be—I wanted Ian on my side. When I second guessed myself, he would
be someone who would see my dilemma and actually work towards helping me solve
it in a way with which I was comfortable, versus letting me work it out alone (and
possibly screwing everything up) or attempting to convince the only way was
something contrary to my beliefs. That was something I knew I would need, especially
if I wanted to succeed. And I did.
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