Her mother was silent for a long time. Izzy could hear her clearing her throat. Finally she said, “Sweetheart, I do the best I can. We’ll discuss this later. Let me talk to Henderson now.”
Uh-oh. “Um, he and Oliver went into the woods to…get some branches to make a fire. I’ll tell him to call you as soon as they get back, okay?”
Reluctantly, her mother agreed. “You can tell Ben I’m calling Michael this minute.”
Ben took his phone back and waited. Not two minutes passed before it buzzed angrily. From what Izzy could tell, Ben’s conversation with his father was quite a bit worse than the one she’d had with her mother. Ben said almost nothing. In fact his clenched jaws seemed determined not to let any sound escape at all. Izzy was pretty sure Dr. Gustino was not telling Ben he was more important than anyone else.
“They’re leaving Coolidge now,” Ben reported after he hung up. “They’re coming in your mom’s car so my dad can drive Uncle Steve’s car back. They’ll stop somewhere overnight and be here before noon tomorrow.”
“Is he really mad?” Izzy asked.
“What do you think?” Ben flopped into the lawn chair and leaned forward, the palms of his hands holding up his head. “I’m grounded until after Christmas, I’m only allowed to use my computer for homework, and I’m not allowed to see Uncle Steve again. Ever.”
“That’s not fair!” Izzy said. “It wasn’t your uncle’s fault!”
Ben choked out a laugh. “You didn’t like him at first, Izzy. You thought he was some kind of deviant. Admit it.”
She blushed. “Well, Oliver told me about the beer and the pot. And he’s got that big beard and everything.”
“Yeah, facial hair is terrifying.” Ben was teasing her, but at least the scowl had lifted off his face. He picked up Uncle Henderson’s guitar and strummed it idly.
Izzy saw them first as they reappeared from the stand of trees, silently checking their surroundings like cautious woodland animals. Uncle Henderson looked right at her, his head sitting solidly on his shoulders. “Uncle Hen!” she cried.
Oliver still held tight to his father’s hand, but he looked calmer than he had when they left. “It’s getting dark,” Uncle Henderson said. “How long are you guys gonna sit outside?”
“We were waiting for you,” Izzy said.
Ben put down the guitar and stood up. “I shouldn’t have talked to you that way,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Uncle Henderson said. He brushed a sleeve over his face, and Izzy could see the gleam of tears in the fading light. His lips curled into something resembling a weak smile. “You were right. It was time I heard it.”
“We talked,” Oliver said as he looked up into his father’s face. “Dad’s talking again. He’s gonna come home.”
Uncle Henderson nodded. “I’m gonna try my best, for Oliver’s sake.”
* * *
It sounded to Izzy as if her mother were giving Uncle Henderson a lecture, but he was speaking to her in full sentences, which seemed like a step in the right direction.
“They’ve got sleeping bags with them,” Uncle Hen said calmly. “There’s enough room for everybody in the trailer for one night. They made it this far, Mags—they’ll be fine until you get here.” He listened to his older sister for another long minute and then said, “I know, Maggie. I’m sorry I scared everybody. I get it. I do.”
Izzy was curled up on a corner of the musty futon that served as Uncle Henderson’s bed and couch, a heavy feeling in her chest that she recognized as sadness. It seemed like she and Ben and Oliver had been on this journey together for weeks instead of only days. So much had happened, but tomorrow their adventure would be over and they’d be separated, Ben going home with his furious father, and she, Oliver, and Uncle Hen with her mother. The scoldings would be rough, and Ben would no doubt get it worse than she would, because he was the oldest, and the driver, and because he’d gotten in trouble before. Izzy wished she could ride with him so he didn’t have to face his father all alone.
Why couldn’t Dr. Gustino see how responsible Ben had been? Maybe he did a few things he wasn’t supposed to do, but he also took care of Oliver when the grown-ups weren’t. And he took care of her too, buying her shoes and fixing her stupid hair. They should be thanking Ben, not punishing him.
It seemed to Izzy that she was a different person now than she’d been the night they sneaked away from her house and hitchhiked to Eastman with the red-headed truck driver. She didn’t want Uncle Henderson and Oliver to go back to Wilton anymore. And she didn’t want to go back to her old life either, the one where she rattled around in that big old house with only her mother for company. She wished Ben could come back to their house and live in the basement again. She and Oliver could hang out down there with him and watch Monty Python, and he could help her with her comedy routine. But all that, she knew, would not happen.
Uncle Henderson, who hadn’t seemed able to do much more than open a bottle of beer for the past few months, heated up a can of soup and got out a pan to make them grilled cheese sandwiches. He noticed the marker mess on Oliver’s arm and made him clean it off with soap and water instead of just spit. When the soup was hot, he poured it into the only three mugs in the trailer and handed one to each of them.
“I’ll eat when you’re finished,” he said, just like a normal parent might. Oliver sat on his father’s lap while he slurped up the soup, and Uncle Henderson kept an arm around his waist. “It’s good to see you,” he said to his son, brushing the hair back off Oliver’s forehead. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too,” Oliver said, leaning into his father’s chest. “I like it here.”
“Next time we’ll come out together. We’ll go fishing.”
Oliver beamed. “Can Ben come too? And Izzy?”
“Sure,” Uncle Henderson said. “We’ll have a fishing party.”
Izzy was going to make sure that he kept that promise.
When they finished eating, there was a pleasant silence in the room, as if they were all happy to be where they were—here, in the middle of nowhere, one more night together before all hell broke loose. Ben collected the plates and mugs and put them in the sink. “Henderson,” he said, “do you think you could teach me to play the guitar sometime?”
“Sure,” Uncle Hen said. “I’ll give you a lesson now, soon as I wash up the dishes.”
“I’ll do the dishes,” Izzy said, jumping up. “I like to listen to you play.”
“Can you teach me that song you wrote, the one you sometimes play at night?” Ben asked. “The one that goes, ‘It’s not a weakness if your heart breaks—’”
“Just a little!” Oliver finished the line.
Uncle Henderson’s face paled, and for a moment it seemed as if the lights in his eyes had gone out again, but then he sat up straight and nodded at Ben. “That’s a pretty good song, isn’t it? Hand me my guitar, Oliver.”
And that’s how they spent the rest of the evening in the old trailer—Uncle Henderson teaching Ben the chords to his favorite songs, and Oliver and Izzy singing along. They sang “Be Always Tender” over and over, all four of them together, their voices getting stronger every time.
As Izzy’s mother’s car crossed New York State, heading for home, Uncle Henderson sat in the back seat with Oliver, his arm firmly around his son, watching him sleep.
The front seat was silent at first too. The rain came down steadily, and Izzy’s mother stared out the window through the wiper blades. She and Dr. Gustino had both exploded at their children the minute they walked into the trailer, and now she seemed exhausted. Izzy was still thinking about her mother’s lecture about the dangers of hitchhiking (which had kind of terrified her) and imagining what it would be like to be grounded for a month (which she knew could have been an even longer sentence).
The Malibu had left the lake first, Ben and his father both silently furious. Oliver had given Ben a hug, and Izzy had waved as he got into the car, but there was no
thing either of them could do to make his drive home any easier.
They weren’t more than ten miles down the road when her mother said, “Get the phone out of my purse and call your father, Izzy. I told him you would.”
“Does he know about this?” Izzy rummaged through the purse at her feet and pulled out the smartphone in the plain black case.
“Of course he does. He’s your father. I’ve talked to him half a dozen times in the past two days.”
Huh. That must be more than she’d talked to him in the past two years. Izzy placed the call, wondering what on earth she’d say to her father, or what he’d say to her.
“Izzy, is that you?” His voice sounded rough, like his vocal cords had been sandpapered.
“It’s me.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. All I did was ride in a car for a couple of days.”
“Well, your mother was very worried. And so was I. And so was Emily. You can’t just take off like that without telling anybody where you’re going.”
“I left a note,” Izzy said. She tried to imagine her father and Emily sitting around their beautiful condo worrying about her. What would that even look like?
“Well, not a very instructive note,” he grumbled.
“I’m sorry Mom called you. I didn’t think she would.”
For a moment he was silent. “Why wouldn’t she call me?” he said finally. “I’m your father.”
“I know, but…you’re not my father the way you used to be,” she said, her voice just barely above a whisper.
Suddenly he was yelling. “I can’t believe you think that, Izzy! Just because I don’t live with you now doesn’t mean…I’m still your father!”
“Okay,” she said, sorry now that she’d brought it up.
“It’s not okay. I feel terrible that you think that.”
He sighed deeply, and for a moment neither of them said anything. When he spoke again, his voice had changed, softened. “Maybe this is all my fault.”
“What’s your fault?”
“Everything. You ruining your hair and running off with Oliver and that teenage boy.”
“It didn’t have anything to do with you. Ben and I wanted to help Oliver.”
“Your mother said you hitchhiked.”
“Only once.”
“Well, that’s one time too many!”
“I know. Mom already gave me a big lecture about it.”
“Your mother also said you’ve been upset about the new baby. Is that what’s behind all this?”
God, when had the two of them gotten so chatty?
“I should have known that would be hard for you, Izzy. Sometimes I’m kind of stupid about things like that, you know?” She didn’t answer him.
He sighed again. “Anyway, I’m glad that you’re safe, and that Henderson is coming home. I hope we can…talk more. Emily and I would like you to be part of your brother’s life. We really want that. Okay?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” Why did he always have to say “we”? “Emily and I” was not her father.
There was an awkward silence for a moment, but then her father broke it. “Oh, by the way, I wanted to tell you—guess who we saw last weekend? Live and in person! Jerry Seinfeld!”
Izzy tried to keep the excitement out of her voice, but it was hard. “You did? You always wanted to see him!”
“You can imagine how thrilled I was. It was a last-minute thing. One of Emily’s friends had tickets, but she couldn’t go, so she gave them to us. I wish you could have come with us. You still like him, don’t you? When he tours here again, I’m going to take you. That’s a promise!”
Jerry Seinfeld, in person! “Was he great? Did you fall out of your chair laughing?”
“I did, Izzy. He was so funny.”
“Dad, you know what?” She was just going to tell him, even if he didn’t care. “I’m making up a comedy routine. You know, stand-up.”
“Really?” He sounded excited. “You didn’t tell me you were doing that! Wow, Izzy, I can’t wait to see what you’ve got! Maybe you can come for a visit before the baby arrives. We could watch some of our favorite old CDs—early SNL from the Gilda Radner days! We haven’t done that in so long.”
“Could we rent the new Melissa McCarthy movie too?” she dared to ask. “I haven’t seen it yet.”
“Great idea! Let’s do that!”
“Okay.” And then, so he wouldn’t hear that her voice had suddenly gotten all waterlogged like some weepy little kid, she said, “I have to go now. I’ll talk to you later.” She turned her face to the window and pretended to look out at the soggy scenery, but she kept the phone cradled in her lap as if all the best moments of her childhood lived inside it.
It hadn’t occurred to Izzy that going missing for a few days would make her an instant celebrity at Coolidge Middle School. Cookie and Pauline were waiting for her out front when her mother dropped her off. Apparently they’d reinstated Izzy as a best friend during her absence, and as such they felt it was their right to be the first to pounce on her. Within seconds a dozen other girls surrounded her too, all of them eager to hear about her experiences as a runaway.
“What happened to you?” Cookie asked. “We were so worried about you, Izzy!”
“Oh, your hair!” Pauline said. “You fixed it! It looks good now.”
“Ben cut it for me,” Izzy said, trying to sound nonchalant.
A murmur went through the crowd of girls. Cookie’s mouth fell open, and Pauline put out her hand to touch Izzy’s cropped hair, as if feeling it with her own fingers would help her to believe the unbelievable.
“He did not!” Cookie said.
Izzy shrugged. “His mom was a hairdresser. She taught him how.”
“But we heard Ben kidnapped you and made you drive to Pennsylvania!” Pauline said, crinkling up her eyes.
“That’s the silliest thing I ever heard,” Izzy said. “Nobody kidnapped anybody. We wanted to go. And it wasn’t Pennsylvania—only New York.”
“But why would you run away with him?” Cookie wanted to know.
“We weren’t running away. We went to find my uncle.” Izzy had a feeling she was never going to be able to explain the trip to her friends. They’d never be able to understand the journey she and Oliver and Ben had been on, because neither of them had ever felt so desperate. They’d never lost anyone. They’d never felt hope leak out of a hole in their hearts. Suddenly they seemed so young, and Izzy wondered if maybe she’d outgrown them.
“I heard Ben Gustino stole a car,” Cookie announced to the gathering crowd. “Somebody said he robbed a man in Eastman!”
Izzy was getting more than a little annoyed by these exaggerations. “Ben’s uncle lives in Eastman, and we borrowed his car.” Okay, that wasn’t entirely true either, but it was the story she was sticking to.
Comments flew wildly around Izzy’s head. “I heard they hitchhiked to New York.” “That Ben kid isn’t old enough to drive.” “My brother said they had an accident.” The circle closed in on Izzy more and more by the minute. This was not the way she wanted to be the center of attention.
“I heard Ben Gustino is on drugs,” one girl said, and a murmur of agreement went through the crowd.
Izzy whirled around and glared at her. “That’s a horrible lie!” Izzy yelled. “You’re spreading rumors about somebody you don’t even know!”
The circle of girls hushed and stared at Izzy, shocked. She grabbed Cookie’s and Pauline’s arms and pulled them away from the larger group and around the side of the brick building. “I don’t want to talk about this in front of everybody,” she said. “They’ve got it all wrong.”
“But, Izzy, you must have been scared, weren’t you?” Pauline asked. “You were gone for almost three whole days with Ben Gustino!”
“God, Pauline, he’s not Dracula. He’s not who you think he is at all. He’s really…nice. More than nice. He…he bought me these shoes.” All three of them gazed down at the gray a
nd pink sneakers. Just thinking about the shoes made Izzy’s throat hurt. Had she thanked Ben enough? Not just for the shoes—for everything. Did he know how sorry she was for being so hard on him at first? Sorry for being just as dumb as all these other girls who pretended to know who he was, when all they really knew was gossip and rumors. Ben was in so much trouble for doing such a good thing. She hoped he knew how much she appreciated it.
Cookie and Pauline glanced at her sneakers, confused. They had sad-puppy looks on their faces, as if they thought she’d been brainwashed by aliens.
“Why did he buy you shoes?” Pauline asked quietly, as if she were a little afraid to hear the answer.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Izzy said. “You guys don’t get it.” She started to walk away, but Cookie caught her arm and dragged her back.
“We’re trying to get it, Izzy. We really are. Do you, like, have a crush on Ben or something?”
Izzy sighed. “Oh, Cookie, no.” She should have known that would be the way Cookie would see it. How could she explain to them that there were other ways to be close to people, ways that could be even more important than holding hands in the hallway or giggling together in study hall? “Ben took care of us, Oliver and me. And we tried to take care of him too.”
Cookie and Pauline exchanged puzzled looks. This was not the conversation they had expected to have with Izzy this morning, and they were stumped.
Finally Pauline said, “Well, at least you’re home now, and everything can go back to normal.”
Izzy nodded, but she couldn’t make herself smile. “Back to normal” was not where she wanted to be anymore.
Tonight would be the first time Uncle Henderson was back onstage in six months, since the night he’d come home from his gig to find Aunt Felicia dead. He would have put off performing for longer, but when Patsy Kennedy had had to cancel her December concert at the Bellwood Theater with only a week’s notice, the booking agent had called his friend Fred Dumont. Fred had told him Henderson Hook was living right there in Coolidge these days and was back on his feet, ready to play. Which was not entirely true, but Uncle Henderson had taken a deep breath and agreed to do it.
Someone Else's Shoes Page 17
