Everything

by Williams, Jeri

  I sat for another five minutes, giving Opal enough time to collect herself, then made my way back into her driveway and made a show of knocking on her kitchen door.

  “Did you forget some—” she started. “Oh,” she said, when she saw it was me. “It’s just you, chile.”

  “Were you expecting someone else?” I pushed past her with a raised eyebrow and a knowing look.

  “No, ’course not.” She looked flustered. Even for Opal.

  “So,” I leaned on the counter casually, “how was your morning?”

  “Whatcha mean, chile?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.

  “Oh, you know. You seemed really busy a little while ago when you threw me out of your house,” I smirked.

  “Wipe that smirk off your face, chile. I’m an a-dult. If I don’t wantcha in my house, then I don’t wantcha in my house.”

  “Umm hum. Okay, Auntie.” I continued to smirk. “You just seem...different, that’s all,” I finished.

  “I’m still me.” She went about the kitchen getting things ready for breakfast—eggs, butter, cheese, bacon, and peanut butter.

  “Why do you need peanut butter?” I turned my head to the side quizzically.

  “To put on my pancakes. Don’tcha know nothin’, chile?” she asked.

  “Apparently not,” I muttered, shaking my head. Not exactly crazy Aunt Opal, but not exactly sane, either.

  “Don’t talk bad ’bout what you don’t know,” she said snootily.

  “Okay, okay.” I put my hands up as I backed up. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’ll leave now. Call me if you need anything.” I gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  It had been so long since I had seen this side of Opal. Granted, I didn’t think having a boyfriend was the all-magic cure, but it was a start.

  I had some time to kill, but I didn’t want to go to school early, I also didn’t want to go home, since I was going to have to be there later anyway to see Mick, which reminded me—I hadn’t told Tina about Mick. I still decided to wait until later on that one. I headed over to the library to do some research on my creative writing essay. Might as well get a head start, I thought. I had no idea what I was going to write about, but I figured if I looked around the library, an idea would come to me. Besides, it was a quiet place to think and I was guaranteed not run into anyone I knew, as no one I knew was up that early, except Trevor’s mother, who worked at the library.

  Jennifer Martin looked just like you would think a librarian was supposed to look. She was small and round with a messy bun always on top of her head and numerous pencils sticking out of it any given time. She had black-rimmed reading glasses attached to a chain that was either always pushed halfway down the bridge of her nose or dangling from her neck. Don’t get me wrong—she was a very beautiful woman, but she did the librarian look very well and never deviated from it. I saw her deviate from it once at the request of Trevor when he took her out for her fiftieth birthday to a fancy restaurant in the next town over, about forty-five minutes away. He regretted it later, as too many men gave her too much attention that night because she apparently was “hot.” I smiled as I went up to open the door and found her at the information desk behind a big pile of books. She pulled off her reading glasses and smiled back at me warmly.

  “Hi, Dacey. Oh, you know Trevor isn’t here, dear,” she said absently.

  “Yes, I know. Hi, Ms. Martin.” I smiled innocently.

  “Oh, then what can I do for you, dear?” Coming out from behind the desk, she was in full librarian mode.

  “I’m actually here hoping to get a head start on my creative writing final that’s due at the end of this semester.”

  “Oh, well you’re a tad early. I like that. You have gusto.” She gave a thumbs-up sign.

  It’s funny. I always thought she didn’t like me.

  “Oh, well, thank you. I had some time to kill this morning, so I thought I’d start looking into what I want my topic to be. I’m just going to take a look in the fiction section, if you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all, dear. You know where it is?”

  “Yeah, I remember from when I used to come here a few summers ago with Aria.” She used to be on a Goosebumps kick when she was eleven, and Mom used to make me go with her to the library.

  “Oh, how is your family doing these days?” She was making small talk, but I could see her eyeing her stack of books.

  “They are great. I’ll tell them you said hello.” I started toward the back of the library, and that was her cue.

  “Okay, dear. Well, yell if you need anything. It’s usually pretty quiet in here this early in the morning, so I’ll be able to hear you if you holler out.” She gave me a wink. “Just not too loud—this is still a library.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I smiled to myself.

  I stayed in the fiction section, and then it dawned on me that I should be looking in the nonfiction section as this was a creative writing topic paper, but it was supposed to be on how I had changed. I had no idea how to write a creative writing paper, since I normally just wrote about how I felt. So I decided to just look up books on how to write a creative writing paper and found a few of those. They mostly showed me how to format my paper and structure it, but none gave me ideas on what to write about. I checked out the ones I thought were most helpful, told Ms. Martin good-bye, then made my way to school. In my first class, I remembered that I still needed to tell Tina about Mick, so I discreetly took out my cellphone and sent her another text message.

  So mick is back

  Must be Thursday

  We R all having family dinner. Yay

  Ooh sorry mamma

  I need my buffer

  Would if I could

  I know

  Take Opal, Enough buffer for whole year

  Pass

  It was a thought

  Keep thinking

  I could text u during dinner so u have 2 leave early

  Can’t, promised to help A run lines for ply

  Damn! What about the lump?

  I assume u mean Trev?

  Whatev

  Busy

  With what ur his girl

  Mom date night

  Humm

  Don’t start

  Kill him w/kindness

  Or just kill him

  That 2

  I’ll B OK

  U sure?

  Yea, go bk 2 class

  Text me l8tr

  OK

  I put my phone away and tried to pay attention to the rest of class, but I kept going back to tonight and how awkward it would be at dinner, all because of jerky Uncle Mick.

  Try as I might, I couldn’t stretch the day out any more. When the end of the day rolled around, I met Aria in the parking lot.

  She was playing the death march on her phone, laughing.

  “Really?” I shot her a look.

  “What? It’s funny!” She pressed a button on her phone, and the tone stopped playing.

  “And you want me to help you tonight, right?” I asked with upraised eyebrows.

  “Okay, okay, okay.” She rushed to hug me. “I’m sorry, and I love you.”

  “That’s what I thought.” I crossed my arms over my chest. I wouldn’t admit it to her, but it was funny.

  “Okay, let’s do this.” She cracked her neck from side to side like she was going into battle.

  “Okay. Well, wait for me when you get home so we can walk in together.”

  “’Kay.” She got into her car, loud pop music blaring as she pulled off.

  I got in my car, and before I started the engine, I sent a text to Tina letting her know I was going into the lion’s den and to wish me luck. My phone buzzed back right away with a text that said, “knock em dead, really.” I rolled my eyes and pulled off.

  When I pulled up to my house, I had to park on the street because there was a new edition Chrysler 300 parked in the driveway, red. I wondered whose ostentatious car that was.

  Aria had pulled u
p right behind Mick’s car and was dancing in her seat and singing along loudly with some pop song about a DJ playing her song. Not a care in the world. Lucky her.

  “Come on, Miley,” I tapped on her door as the song came to an end.

  “I know, right? I could totally give her a run for her money.”

  “Oh yeah, totally.” I rolled my eyes. “Let’s go in.” I mentally steeled myself and walked in to find Mom in her normal spot in the kitchen, Dad on the couch reading his paper, and Mick leaning against the counter in the kitchen with a beer, talking to Mom and laughing.

  Mick was a semi-beefy man at about five feet ten, not muscular but not all flab either, and because of his booming voice, people found him imposing. But mostly, I just thought of him as loud and obnoxious.

  “Hey, there’s my girl.” He stretched out his arms for Aria.

  “Hey, Uncle Mickey.” She went into his open arms and gave him a hug.

  I went over and gave Mom a hug and kiss on the cheek so as to escape the awkwardness of not getting nor not wanting a hug from Mick. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Dacey.” She returned my kiss. “I’ve missed you this week.”

  “You talked to me on the phone, Mom, three days ago,” I said, refraining from rolling my eyes.

  “It’s not the same.”

  “I guess.” I turned to Mick before Mom could accuse me of being rude.

  “Hey, Mick. How are you?” I asked ever so sweetly.

  “Dacey,” he grunted out, “things are good with me, and yourself?” he asked as he gave me that look he’s known for. Like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe.

  “Good, good.”

  “So, kiddo, how’s school for you?” he turned to Aria.

  “It’s good. I have a play that I am auditioning for that I hope I get a part in.”

  “A part? Don’t you want the lead?” he asked piercingly.

  “Oh, well, this is my first year and there are people there that are more experienced and older than me. I just want to be able to kinda get in there, you know. See what it’s all about.” She shrugged. Aria didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, and she just wanted to have fun and not make it competitive.

  “No, no, no. No niece of mine is going to settle for just ‘see what it’s all about.’ You try out to get the lead!”

  “Oh, Mick,” Mom cut in, “it doesn’t have to be so cutthroat. It’s her first year. Let her have fun, get her feet wet. She may want to change her major next year. Dacey did. It’s normal.”

  “Yeah, well,” he said, giving me a dirty look, “what’s your major now, Dacey?”

  “Um, journalism,” I hedged.

  “And I forget, what was it before?” He had a tone in his voice that said he didn’t forget, he just wanted to make me say it.

  “Nursing,” I supplied

  “Oh, well, that’s a big career change. But it’s not for everyone. I get it,” he said condescendingly. Bastard.

  “Well, I want to get into something and stick to it, you know. Make my mark and not depend on other people to help me along the way. So I want to be great at what I do, not meh,” I said. Swallow that, you jerk.

  He didn’t respond, just gave me another one of his famous smug looks and turned to Mom.

  “Well, you know our family always succeeds in everything we do, that’s why I know Aria will get the lead even if she doesn’t try, right, Annie?”

  “Um, and Dacey will be great in journalism.” She smiled at her impolite ass of a brother.

  “Yeah, she’s going to be awesome,” Aria chimed in.

  I loved them.

  “Oh, yeah, sure, Dacey. I can’t wait to read your first column in the local paper,” he mocked.

  “Dac is going to write novels, Uncle, and they’re going to be epic!” Aria proclaimed proudly.

  Really, could you ask for a better sister?

  “Way to pimp me out there, little sis.” I punched her lightly on the arm.

  “I’m only doing it because I want half the book sales when you make it big.”

  “Well, if you’re that good, then you’ll need an even better agent,” Mick cut in, ears perking up at the sound of money. Of course. “I’m your guy. I could get you a really good deal.”

  “First, let me actually get out of school, and then we will see.” We won’t see—not with you, anyway.

  “Yeah, you know where to find me. Let’s just hope you don’t change majors again,” he laughed sarcastically.

  “Yeah, let’s hope.” Just for that, I thought, I should change majors, you dick.

  I went in to say hi to Wally, and Aria followed me while Mom finished up dinner and Mick finished up his beer.

  “Hey, Daddy. How was work?” Aria dropped a kiss on his cheek, and he accepted.

  “Hey, kiddo. Work was work. How was school?”

  “It was good. I’m trying out for a play. Dac is going to help me run lines tonight.”

  It was then that he noticed me. He didn’t look as though he was going to speak first, so I did. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Here for another free meal, I see.”

  “Yeah, Mom invited me again, you know. She wanted us here because Mick was in town so we could have dinner together so...” I trailed off. I didn’t even know why I bothered.

  “Yeah, Mick.” He grunted something about him being an asshole.

  Our disliking of Mick Holmes was probably the only thing Dad and I had in common. The guy just made everyone’s skin crawl, and the fact that he had hurt Mom in the past just made Dad want to punch him in the neck every time he saw him. But he refrained because Mom asked him to, as she and Mick were trying to rebuild their relationship. It did make me feel somewhat connected to him the times that Mick was around to know that we both wanted the same thing on some level—for Mick to leave.

  Mom came out to say that dinner was done, and we all made our way around the table to eat.

  Dinner was as I thought it would be: Mick talking about himself way too much, not letting anyone else get in a word. When he finally shut up, Aria got a chance to tell everyone about the play she was auditioning for.

  “It’s called The Frost. It’s a contemporary play based off a collection of Robert Frost poems. Get it, The Frost?” she said, animatedly.

  “Oh, yeah, I see what they did there,” I replied amusedly.

  “Well, anyways, it’s split up into different acts or poems, and I’m auditioning for act 5, or poem 5, his ‘Fire and Ice’ poem.”

  “I love that poem,” Mom mused.

  “I know, it’s why I picked it,” smiled Aria, as she winked at me knowingly.

  “Do you girls remember that one year we had those series of real bad hurricanes and we had no power for a week? All I did was read books to you, mostly poem books because that’s all I had. That poem was my favorite, and Dacey, if I recall, you wanted me to read it at night until you fell asleep.”

  “I don’t remember that, Mom,” I said quickly but smiling—showing her I did remember.

  “Oh, I do. Every time she would go to close the book, you would whine and ask her to read it one more time,” Aria said, starting to laugh.

  “How do you even remember that? You were six!”

  She pointed to her head. “Steel trap. I remember everything.”

  “No, you don’t.” I laughed because she really did have a horrible memory.

  “How does it go?” asked Mick, putting me on the spot. “It sounds like it was your favorite too, and if you’re good at journalism, you have to be good at recall as well. So let’s hear it.”

  “Oh, I haven’t read it to them in years. I’m sure she doesn’t remember it, Mick.” Mom tried to save me.

  Aria had a huge grin on her face and mouthed the words “just do it,” rolling her eyes from across the table.

  I looked Mick dead in the face and begin to recite the poem I knew by heart. After I was done I looked over at Mom and saw she had tears in her eyes, as I knew she would.

  “I can’t belie
ve you remember, after all these years,” she said softly, as she dabbed at her eyes.

  “Yeah, well, it’s a classic, and it’s your favorite. And I only heard it a million times that week.” I tried to act as though it wasn’t a big deal, when really it had meant the world to me. It was truly when I knew she loved me. It was only a year after the marriage, and I was still calling her Ann when the storms had hit. I had been terrified of the dark, and to be without electricity for a week was traumatizing for me. Wally was no help. The only thing that helped was for me to know that I wasn’t alone, so Ann would read to me until I fell asleep, and I just happened to like that poem. I felt it kind of fit the occasion at the time, with the hurricane winds blowing and everything, and I guess we bonded. When it was all over and the lights were restored at the end of the week, she was telling me good-night one night and, instead of saying my normal “Good night, Ann,” I said, “Good night, Mom.” I’ve been calling her that ever since, so I knew she would cry when I recited the poem, because in a way it was our poem, and Aria knew that as well. I looked over to her and mouthed the words “thank you,” and she smiled big and proud.

  Wally and Mick just looked at us, then back at Mom, and then asked why she was crying, to which she replied that it was just a moment she had with her girls, it was nothing.

  After dinner, Aria and I helped Mom clear the table and Wally excused himself to his bedroom while Mick just hung back and watched. Then he and Mom went to the living room to talk, and Aria and I went upstairs to work on her play.

  “Surprised?” she said as soon as we got in the room we once shared, her room solely now.