It was early April now, and still no Izzy. Mom seemed good as new, but she had a regimen of pills to take every morning now. She was right about baseball—when I was on the field, well, I didn't feel the pain as much. A motion, down by the creek caught my attention as I stared out my bedroom window across the moon-bathed backyard. My heart jumped with anticipation, but it was only the raccoon that played havoc with our trashcans. Yeah, baseball was good, but only a momentary distraction to dull the pain. I walked back to my bed and flopped down on the cool sheets.
"You're human." That's what Cathy said in what seemed like a changing point for her. I hadn't seen her since that day, but Alex said she seemed completely like her old self. Her mother was skeptical—still not letting her out of her sight for any length of time because of her past relapses. "Human," I mumbled. What, did she think I was a vampire, or was she just hallucinating? And why was she back to normal now? And I don't even want to think about the strange contact between us, electric, magnetic, whatever it was.
I blinked, the momentary flash of darkness bringing with it the image of Izzy's perfect face. I closed my eyes so that I could see her. "I miss you," I whispered. "I'm so sorry, please forgive me." Our short time together raced though in a stream of images ending with my terrible mistake in the family room. It always ended that way—I screwed up. Dad was gone, Izzy and that had almost taken Mom too. I opened my eyes and sat up. Outside my window the sky was starting to lighten. Might as well take a shower, I wasn't going back to sleep anyway.
Mom was at the kitchen sink when I came downstairs. "You're up early for a holiday."
"Hey, Mom."
"The game isn't until this afternoon, or did I mark it on the calendar wrong?"
"Game's at one o'clock, but Coach wants us there at ten to prep the field."
She tossed a handful of pills in her mouth and swallowed them with a glass of water.
"You doing okay?" I asked walking up behind her.
She smiled. "I'm fine Jason—as a matter of fact, I was thinking about planting some flowers along the tree line out back before the game."
"Mom," I groaned. "I don't think that's such a good idea, you haven't—"
"Nonsense, the doctor says I'm fine."
"Tell you what, how about you buy the flowers today and I'll help you tomorrow—Saturday's supposed to be warmer."
"You're going to help me plant flowers—tomorrow?"
"Sure, it's the least I can do."
"Alright, tomorrow it is. What can I make you for breakfast?"
"I think I'll just have a bowl of cereal if that's okay?" I grabbed the box of cereal out of the pantry and then the carton of milk from the fridge on my way to the table.
"Jason."
"Yeah, Mom."
"You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened—"
"Mom, we've been over this—"
"No, you won't listen. Get this through that stubborn head of yours; what happened probably saved my life. I'll admit I'm a little fuzzy on the who and how part, but the doctors said my heart was a ticking time bomb and it was an absolute miracle that I survived." She walked over to the table and set a bowl and spoon on the table in front of me. With a hug she said, "You actually saved my life."
I patted her arm.
"Have you heard from her yet?"
I shook my head, not wanting to risk my voice and expose the pain.
"I went down to the police station yesterday. They didn't know anything about the witness protection process, but said they'd look into it."
I twisted out of her arms. "You shouldn't have done that," I said, trying to keep my voice calm.
"I know you need closure—"
"I don't need closure, I need Izzy." My voice broke on her name. I fended off her attempt at a hug. "Let me eat, Mom, I have to get ready."
She retreated to the sink. "Make sure you take a key, I think I'll stop and get the flowers after the game."