Diary Two: Dawn, Sunny, Maggie, Amalia, and Ducky

by Ann M. Martin

Wednesday 7/29

  6:09 P.M.

  FOUR MESSAGES ON my machine when I came home:

  1. Zeke saying that I should check my e-mail and answer him.

  2. Justin saying he was sorry I wasn’t at the rehearsal and would I please call him.

  3. Amalia saying same as Justin.

  4. Dawn calling from Stoneybrook. Said she misses me. Wondered how I was and what was going on in Palo City. She wants me to call her back too.

  I don’t feel like talking to anybody. Think I’ll take a nap before dinner.

  8:30 P.M.

  Dinner started out on a bad note. Pilar was grumpy with me because I asked her not to put dressing on my salad or sauce on my grilled fish. Mom was drinking her dinner. And Dad was grumpier than Pilar.

  I told Mom that the hotel called with some questions about the benefit dinner. Mom paid attention for a little while and I got the information I needed. I’ll pass it on to Janice tomorrow and hopefully she’ll take care of it.

  I ate the salad and half the fish. For once, no one tried to make me eat more.

  But Mom did notice how I looked. She scowled at me. “I thought we were going to do something about that hair.”

  “I got a haircut last week,” I told her. “You said you liked it.”

  “Did I?” she asked. “Well, now it looks limp.”

  She poured herself more wine. Dad winced.

  “What are you wearing to that blasted dinner?” Mom asked me.

  I had been so busy I’d forgotten about buying a dress. The last thing I wanted to do was go shopping with my mother. When she’s drinking, she can really embarrass me.

  “I’ll wear the outfit I wore to Dad’s last premiere,” I said. “Okay?”

  “Fine. I’ll just wear any old thing too.”

  “Why don’t you two buy yourselves something special,” Dad said. “And, Eileen, have a beauty day at the Hollywood Spa. It would be good for you.”

  I knew Dad was suggesting the spa because it would be hard for Mom to drink during a day of beauty treatments.

  She glared at him. “How can I do that and manage the benefit? Sometimes you are very dense, Hayden.”

  My stomach churned. I wished I hadn’t eaten the fish.

  The front doorbell rang.

  Pilar poked her head out from the kitchen. “Want me to get it?” she asked.

  I jumped up and said I’d go.

  Amalia was at the door.

  I was surprised. She’d never just “dropped by” before. I gave her a big hello. Amalia has the most beautiful smiling face. It glows.

  My father yelled, “Who is it?”

  I yelled back that it was someone to see me. He came into the hall, said hi to Amalia, and told me that he was going back to the office. I asked him what Mom was doing and he said quietly, “She’s gone out. Bring Amalia to the dining room for something to eat before Pilar cleans up.” He smiled at Amalia. “Make Pilar’s day and eat something, will you?”

  “I already ate, Mr. Blume,” she said. “But I might be able to help out in the dessert department.”

  We went into the dining room and Pilar gave Amalia a huge piece of lemon tart and a glass of milk.

  “Maggie used to love my lemon tarts,” Pilar told Amalia. She turned to me. “But I suppose you don’t want any tonight.”

  “No,” I replied. “I don’t.”

  I know I sounded rude, but I don’t care. Pilar has to learn not to bug me about eating. I think she wants everyone to be fat like her.

  While Amalia ate, she explained that she could only stay a half hour. That her mother dropped her off and would pick her up when she finished the family food shopping.

  “I thought I’d stop by and see what’s going on with you,” she said. “You haven’t answered any of my phone calls.”

  I told her I’ve been really busy. I asked Amalia how her job was going. She told me all about the ice-cream parlor. I’ve secretly vowed never to eat ice cream again.

  Finally, Amalia finished her tart and we came up to my room. She threw herself across my bed and leaned on her elbows. “So tell me,” she said excitedly. “How was your date with Justin?”

  There was no way I was going to give Amalia or anyone else a blow-by-blow description of my disastrous night with Justin.

  “It was all right,” I said. “The film was really good. But I’m not that interested in Justin, not as a boyfriend.”

  Amalia looked surprised. “Does Justin know that?” she asked. “I mean, he was really disappointed that you weren’t at the rehearsal.”

  “We’ll still be friends,” I told her.

  I changed the subject by asking about the rehearsal. Amalia said that it didn’t go very well. “It wasn’t the same without you,” she said. “You were missed.”

  Truth Translation: Vanish needs a lead singer. Not necessarily me.

  “Rico said to remind you that they want some new material from you,” Amalia added.

  “I’m working on a song,” I lied.

  Truth Translation: I know that Rico and the rest of the band are sick of my old songs. So what makes them think they’d like any new songs better?

  Amalia asked when I would be able to go back to rehearsals. I told her not until after the benefit. She said that she wouldn’t schedule any rehearsals until I could be there.

  “You still haven’t told me what happened on the date or why you and Justin are ‘just friends,’” Amalia said.

  I just shrugged.

  “Have you talked to him since Saturday?” she asked.

  She wouldn’t give up. I never realized that Amalia was so nosy.

  “It’s no big deal, Amalia. And I really don’t want to talk about it. It’s sort of boring.”

  Truth Translation: Mind your own business.

  Amalia was quiet for a minute. I probably hurt her feelings. I hope she’s learned a lesson about prying into other people’s business.

  I changed the subject by introducing her to Zeke’s turtles.

  She picked up Zeus and asked me, “Did you go out to eat or anything after the movie?”

  I couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t giving up.

  The doorbell rang.

  Saved by the bell.

  “That’s probably your mother,” I said.

  I went downstairs with Amalia and said hello to Mrs. Vargas. She said what a great house we had and they left.

  HOME

  In this big house

  I am alone

  It’s a prison

  Not a home.

  I can’t stay here

  I want to disappear.

  Empty

  Light

  Free

  That’s how I want to be.

  © Maggie Blume

  What a stupid poem.

  I’m going to bed.

  One more day until the benefit.

  I’m not looking forward to it.

  I’m not looking forward to anything.

  Thursday 7/30

  8:13 P.M.

  WHAT AN AWFUL day!

  The only thing that’s going well is my diet. Lost another pound. All my jeans are baggy on me. Yes! I have definitely gone down a size.

  Dragged at work. Mom wasn’t here when I came home.

  I went to the kitchen. Pilar wasn’t there.

  A fresh loaf of bread was cooling on the counter and a chicken and vegetables were roasting in the oven. The bread smelled wonderful, but I had to ignore it. I wrote a note: Pilar, I already had dinner. Maggie.

  Took some carrot sticks and low-fat cottage cheese from the fridge and brought them to my room.

  9:12 P.M.

  Tried to work on song lyrics about abandoned animals, but they were awful. My writing stinks.

  Heard Dad come in around seven-thirty. He came up to my room and asked where Mom was. Told him I didn’t know. He said dinner was ready. Told him I already ate.

  11:04 P.M.

  Mom still isn’t home.

  Last year Mom did
n’t come home at all one night. Dad acted like it wasn’t a big deal and made up some story about how she probably had told him she was going someplace, but that he’d forgotten. He never forgets anything so I knew he was lying.

  Neither of our parents were there when Zeke and I got up the next morning. Pilar made us go to school anyway.

  When we came home, Dad was back, but Mom wasn’t. He said that she was on a trip with Janice. He said she had called his office the day before to remind him that she was going on this trip, but his secretary had forgotten to give him the message. She would be home the next day.

  Later I overheard Dad talking on the phone. He said, “Let her sleep it off, Janice, and I’ll come for her in the morning. I want to keep it from the kids.”

  I wonder where Mom is now.

  I wonder what excuse Dad will make up this time.

  Friday 7/31

  3:00 A.M.

  MOM STILL ISN’T home.

  Tried to sleep. No luck.

  I went downstairs around midnight. Dad and Pilar were in the kitchen. I stopped at the closed door and listened before going in. Dad was telling Pilar that he was going out to look for Mom and that she should call the hospitals. I wonder if Pilar did that the last time Mom disappeared.

  I pushed the door open. “Is there anything I can do?” I asked.

  Dad seemed surprised. I saw the saddest look in his eyes. This time he didn’t make up a story. He said that he was going to look for Mom, that he was sure he would find her, and that I should go to bed and get some rest.

  MOTHER

  Wanderer

  Alone with a bottle.

  Where will you go?

  Wanderer

  Alone with a bottle

  Are you happy? Don’t you love us?

  Mother

  Alone in a bottle

  Who do you love?

  Not me.

  Mother,

  Where are you now?

  I am alone.

  © Maggie Blume

  5:30 A.M.

  Dad just came in with Mom. I heard him trying to get her to go up the stairs to her room. She was crying. Dad was telling her to keep quiet. She yelled that he should leave her alone.

  What would have happened if he hadn’t found her?

  Friday, 12:31 P.M.

  Mom not up this morning.

  She was sleeping by the pool when I came home from work.

  Work. What a disaster.

  Piper noticed that I was tired this morning. She asked me if I was okay. I said I was fine. She said I looked pale. She was eating a bagel with cream cheese and offered me half.

  Told her I wasn’t hungry.

  Which I wasn’t.

  She asked again if I was okay.

  Doesn’t anyone mind their own business?

  Fed dogs. Put Laddie in run. Fed cats. Put another dog in run. Swept floor.

  Suddenly Piper screamed from the back of the shelter, “Maggie, bring two leashes. Quick!”

  I grabbed a couple of leashes. As I rushed toward the dog run I heard barking and snarling. Laddie and a black Lab were fighting. Piper was trying to separate them. “Stay there!” she yelled. “Throw me a leash.”

  I did. She managed to put it on the black Lab. Laddie ran to me. “Bring him in,” Piper ordered.

  I clipped on the other leash and led Laddie to his crate. A big tuft of hair was missing from his neck. I could see his skin, but he wasn’t bleeding. Laddie lay down in his crate, put his chin on his folded paws, and looked up at me. His eyes were loving, not accusing.

  Piper came in. She put the other dog in his crate. He growled at Laddie.

  Laddie whimpered.

  “Well, that was a pretty big mess,” Piper scolded me. “Don’t you know enough to clear the run before you put a new dog out?”

  I was surprised that Piper was scolding me. Didn’t she know how terrible I felt about what had happened?

  “Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “Of course you didn’t do it on purpose. I just don’t understand how you could make such a stupid mistake.” She studied me. She still looked angry but her voice softened. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You always look so tired.”

  “I told you I’m okay.”

  Piper has some nerve to criticize how I look. She’s not so great-looking herself.

  “Give Laddie some water and come back to my office,” she ordered. “I’m going to warm up some soup. I want you to eat something and take a break.”

  She headed for her office.

  As I poured water for Laddie, I started to cry.

  I couldn’t stop.

  I didn’t want Piper nagging me about eating. And I didn’t want her to see me crying. There was no way I was going to eat soup.

  I was all tingly and nervous—like small electric shocks were going through me.

  I couldn’t stay in that place another minute.

  I brushed the hair out of Laddie’s eyes. He looked up at me sadly. “I’m sorry I let that dog out when you were in the run, Laddie,” I said softly. “And I’m sorry about your hair.” I patted him and said good-bye.

  Then I walked out of the shelter.

  Maybe Dad’s right about me.

  Maybe I am a quitter.

  9:08 P.M.

  Mom came out of her room from a “nap” at around four o’clock this afternoon. She didn’t say anything about her disappearance last night. Neither did I.

  Her face was puffy and she had big circles under her eyes, but she wasn’t drinking. I told her there was a bunch of messages on her machine, reminded her that the benefit is tomorrow night, and asked if there was anything I could do to help.

  “Oh, I suppose so.” She sighed.

  We checked the messages together. She said she had a splitting headache and asked me to go over to the HCA office and do a few things for her.

  As we walked down the hall together she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and said sadly, “I look really awful.” I looked at our side-by-side reflections. “I hope we both look a little better by tomorrow,” she added.

  Mom’s right. I’m ugly. But at least I’m not fat anymore. And I’m going to be thinner. I may not be perfect, but I can try to look it.

  Message from Zeke on my machine when I came back from HCA. More kvetching. I don’t know why, but his message made me start to cry. I couldn’t listen to the whole thing. I miss Zeke. But I’m glad he wasn’t here for Mom’s disappearing act last night.

  Mom’s in the family room now. I peeked in a little while ago. She was reading a magazine and drinking a glass of wine. I hope that’s all she drinks tonight. It would be so embarrassing for Dad—me too—if Mom missed the benefit tomorrow.

  I wonder what would be worse: Mrs. Hayden Blume, HCA Benefit Chairperson, as a no-show. Or, Mrs. Hayden Blume, HCA Benefit Chairperson, shows up drunk.

  I’m sick of the benefit.

  I’m sick of life.

  I’m going to bed.

  Saturday 8/1

  1:34 P.M.

  JUSTIN JUST CALLED me on Mom’s line. He said he called on the family line because I hadn’t returned his calls and he wanted to be sure I was okay. “Are you sick?” he asked.

  “No,” I told him. I explained that I’ve been very busy with the benefit and my job. I didn’t know what to say next. But he kept the conversation going by saying he’d missed me at the band practices.

  “Maggie, are you not coming to band practice because of what happened at Juanita’s?” he asked.

  I didn’t know what to say. What came out was something like: “I wasn’t feeling very well that night. I’m sorry.”

  “If you were sick, then I’m sorry,” he said. “You had an upset stomach and I was pushing you to eat. I wish you had told me.”

  “That’s okay,” I assured him. I liked that he said he was sorry, even if his apology was based on a fake upset stomach.

  I was thinking Justin and I might try again. But then he ruined every
thing by saying we should go back to Juanita’s another time, when I can enjoy the food.

  I didn’t bother to tell him that I’ll never enjoy the food at Juanita’s.

  Why can’t people go on dates without making such a big deal about food?

  There was another call on my mother’s line. It was the HCA office with a last-minute question about the benefit. I told Justin I had to go. I was relieved to have an excuse to end the call.

  Now that I’m writing about the phone call, I realize that Justin had to call me. The band doesn’t like rehearsing without a lead singer, and we have a gig next Saturday night. Justin wanted to make sure he wasn’t the reason I wasn’t going to band rehearsals.

  Amalia probably told him to call.

  If I just skip a few more rehearsals, maybe they’ll replace me. I hope so. Justin can take the new Vanish singer to Juanita’s and they can stuff themselves to their hearts’ content.

  Feeling wonderfully thin today. I fit into a size-two black lace minidress that was tight two months ago. Now it’s loose.

  Had handful of dry cereal and some grapefruit juice for breakfast. Won’t eat again until benefit.

  Mom still sleeping. At least she’s home.

  Dad went into office for a couple of hours. Asked me to keep an eye on Mom.

  Be glad when tonight is over.

  5:29 P.M.

  Mom got up around two. She took a long swim and showered. Then her masseuse came and gave her a massage and a facial. After that, her hairdresser came to do her nails, hair, and makeup. “I feel like a new woman,” she told me. She looks it too. She’s a beautiful woman—when she’s not drinking.

  The hairdresser blew out my hair. I don’t look like a new woman. I look like the same sloppy, dull Maggie. I put on the black lace minidress, but it doesn’t look right. And the outfit I bought for my date with Justin isn’t dressy enough. Mom was right. I should have bought a new outfit. Now I’m wearing the dress I wore to the premiere of Dad’s last film. It’s longer than I remember. Too long. Nothing I can do about it now. We’re leaving for the benefit in ten minutes.

  As far as I can tell, Mom hasn’t had a drink all day. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it stays that way.

  11:30 P.M.

  The benefit’s over. Finally.

  I could tell Mom was nervous when she and Dad and I met in the front hall to go out to the limo. Dad said Mom looked beautiful. “What difference does it make?” she replied. “The benefit’s going to flop. That’s what they get for scheduling it the same night as three other benefits.”