by Emily Asad
Chapter 20: The Explosion
Statistic: The trend though is that men and women have more difficulty with parenting roles for the opposite gender. Thus, the mother relates better to her daughter after divorce than with her son, and vice versa with the father.
Some of life’s best and worst moments happen in the bathroom. At least, that’s how it always seemed to me. With four weeks left of school, most of the seniors were getting antsy and somewhat rowdy, too. We freshmen and sophomores tried to stay out of their way, especially when they strode down the middle of the hall as if they owned it. It was their last chance to cause mischief, and they took full advantage.
On Monday morning, just before school started, I was on my way to my locker when I saw a group of seniors gathered together. They were making spitballs, probably to launch on some poor, unsuspecting loner. I didn't want to be the recipient of their misplaced energies, so I took refuge in the bathroom.
The smell of vomit made me gag. I almost stepped back out into the hallway, but one of the seniors had seen me take refuge and knew how close I was standing to the door. She pushed it with a hard shove, and it knocked my books out of my hands. They flew everywhere.
“Ow!” I backed away, knelt down, and began to collect my pens, papers, and folders.
Whoever was vomiting had finished, and now came out of the stall. It was Naomi. She looked ill.
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked.
She glared at me. “Stomach flu. Maybe I’ll breathe on you.”
I stopped collecting my papers and turned to my backpack. “Want some gum?”
She hesitated. “Why are you always so nice to me?”
“Because you’re so mean to me,” I grinned.
She snatched the gum, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. She didn't say thank you, but she did kneel down and help me gather my fallen possessions.
And then, to my horror, she picked up my List.
Its corners were frayed, and it was obvious that it was frequently used. I could tell that she was intrigued by it. “Thanks, I’ll take that,” I said firmly, holding out my hand.
“What’s this?”
“It’s nothing,” I said, but the panic in my voice betrayed itself.
“Nothing? Looks like something to me.” She stood up and began leafing through the pages.
“Give that to me. It’s nothing important.”
“Oh, my gosh. This is so stupid. ‘No kissing until you get married… hear everyone’s side of the argument before making an opinion… always be optimistic…” She turned her laughing blue eyes to me. “What’s this? Some sort of rulebook?”
“Naomi, let me have that. Now.”
“Or else what?”
“Or else nothing.” I sighed. It was the same old game. “Fine! It is a rulebook. My own rules for my life. I’ve been keeping it since I was thirteen.”
“You’re such a nerd. I can’t believe how stupid you are.”
“Yeah, whatever. You’ve seen it. Now give it back.”
“I’m not done, Aristotle. What’s this? Romance, general observations… It looks like you have a rule for every possible situation.”
I stifled the urge to punch her flat on her butt. “I try.”
“What about my situation?”
“I don’t know. It’s for me. My personal use. I don’t write rules for other people. I only know what works for me.” I tried to snatch it away from her by force, but she shielded it with her body.
“Stepparents are not always the enemy,” she read. “Avoid arguments by not arguing…. Ooh, that’s real obvious… and it looks like you just learned that one, too. It’s dated February.”
My shoulders slumped. In another five minutes, she would know everything about me, and she would broadcast my peculiarities to the entire school. I was doomed. “Please, Naomi? What do you want? I’ll give you anything you ask for. Just let me have it back.”
She slammed it shut and faced me. “What about my situation?” she repeated.
I held out my hands, empty, pleading. “I don’t know. What situation?”
“My dad’s divorcing my mom. She’s an alcoholic. He can’t stand her anymore. And the stomach flu? I’m not sick. I’m pregnant. And I’m keeping the baby this time. Don’t act so surprised. What does your stupid little book have to say about that?”
I licked my lips, which had suddenly gone dry. “Nothing.”
“So it’s useless.” She threw it on the ground, and it slid over to my feet.
“It’s not useless,” I mumbled.
“It’s full of stupid ideas! It’s as useless as you are!” Tears began to leak out of her eyes. She made no attempt to stop them.
It suddenly struck me why she was baring her soul to me. She thought I could help. Somehow, although she mocked me, insulted me, ridiculed me, and detested me, somehow she must have respected me enough to ask for help.
I picked my List up off the floor. “It’s not useless,” I said again. “There might be a few rules in it for you, too.” I flipped it open to my general section, found one, and read it. “Life is shaped by decisions. What you do today affects tomorrow.”
She sneered. “That’s all?”
“One little rule isn’t going to solve your problems, Naomi,” I said. “You have to make a habit of making good decisions. You laughed at my no kissing rule. But, I’m never going to get pregnant until I’m ready. So it’s a good rule for me.”
“It’s unrealistic. Or maybe not, for you. Nobody would kiss you anyway.”
“That’s probably true,” I admitted, but the thought of Luke made me feel better. “So what are you going to do now, when you’re a mother? Have you told your parents yet?”
She folded her arms. “Of course not. They’d kill me.”
“Well, I’ve thought a lot about becoming a mother. I have several rules about that, too, but you’ll probably laugh at them.” I held my List out to her.
She looked at me in disbelief. “You want me to read that?”
“I don’t care what you do. Share it with the whole school, for all I care. You can’t possibly embarrass me further than you’ve already done this year.”
“You’re on. Boy, this’ll be a good one!” She seized it from me and left before I could change my mind.
I knew exactly what she was going to do. She’d probably tear out the pages and post them on every locker possible. Everyone in the school would chuckle, and then they’d shun me for being such an idiot. I truly didn’t care, though. I had my Mom to talk to, and Luke already knew about the List anyway. They both liked me for who I was. And Matt, and Mouser and Gallant Rose – I had more friends at the end of this school year than I did when it began. Naomi couldn’t take them away from me!
A few days passed, and when Naomi did not make my List public, I stopped worrying so much about being ridiculed. But worry is a part of my life, so I turned my worries to Matt.
His life wasn’t going so well. He had friends, yes, but the wrong sort. His buddies at the restaurant were a bad influence on him. I tried to point it out to him, but he couldn’t see it. Or didn’t want to. Or didn’t care. He was as lonely as I had been, and probably more desperate to belong.
Even his wrestling season had not gone well for him. He had only brought home one ribbon – a red ribbon for second place – and somehow he was ashamed of it. Having a car of his own increased his independence, which meant that he returned home at late hours, and left as quickly as possible in the mornings. At least I didn’t have to take the bus all the time, since I could bum a ride if I promised to pay for gas.
One night, a few weeks before school ended, he got caught. Mom usually stayed up late to make sure that we kids got home safely, but she rarely left her bedroom doorway. Tonight was different.
It was around midnight. I was in the living room, studying Hamlet for an upcoming final exam, reading by candlelight to add to the dramatic mood of Shakespeare’s’ play. The doorknob twist
ed, and the door creaked open. One thing about old houses is that you can always hear people going and coming, so his entrance did not frighten me. “Hey,” I said.
He jumped. “Oh my gosh. I thought you were Mom.”
“Nope, just studying.” I wrinkled my nose. “Have you been smoking?”
He shrugged. “Just a puff or two. Nothing bad.”
“Each cigarette takes one minute off your life,” I quoted.
“Shut up.”
“Good night.”
“Whatever.” He went into the kitchen for some water.
Whatever. My self-imposed identity. I was pleased to find that I no longer thought of it that way; it was an attitude, not a nickname. It had lost its power over me. I didn’t know when the change had occurred, but it was nice to find that I thought of myself as Beverly now. I was almost relieved to discover that fact.
Mom popped her head out. “Matt? Is that you?”
“Yeah. Sorry. I’m on my way to bed.”
She turned to me. “Why are you still awake?”
I held up my book. “Hamlet. I have an exam tomorrow.”
“Well, you’ll never pass it if you’re too tired to take it,” she said.
“Okay. Good night.” I gathered up my study items.
She disappeared into the bedroom. Only a fraction of a second later, however, she opened her door again. “Do you smell something?”
I froze. “No.”
“Something smells like… smoke… Cigarette smoke!” She wrapped her robe around her and came into the living room. She bent over me and took a whiff.
“It’s not me!” I protested.
She jerked her head toward the kitchen. Matt knew she was coming and tried to scurry up the back stairs, but she caught him. “Stop right there, mister!”
Oh, man. He was done for. I wanted to flee to my bedroom and avoid the whole thing, which I knew would explode, but I could not get my feet to move.
Mom pointed her finger at him. “You smell like smoke.”
“It’s from the restaurant. I work the smoking section. You get better tips that way.”
“Don’t lie to me. I can smell it on your breath.”
Matt backed up a few steps. “Get away from me!”
“How could you? Your grandfather died from lung cancer. Puffing on a cigarette is like puffing on a cancer stick. You may as well just swallow the whole thing!”
“It’s not as bad as chewing tobacco,” he countered. “I don’t dip. I just took a few puffs.”
“It’s bad enough that you’re endangering your own health, but you bring that stench home with you? What are Peter and Becky going to think? They look up to their big brother. They follow your example. What kind of life are you showing them?”
“Oh, look who’s lecturing who on leading a quality life.”
“I don’t smoke or drink, buster.”
“No, you just shout and scream all the time. Gee. Which is worse, I wonder.”
“That’s enough from you. You’re grounded. You’re not allowed to leave your room for a week.”
“But I’ll lose my job.”
“Then so be it. You have to learn that you can’t smoke.”
“You’re grounding me?”
She folded her arms. Her answer was obvious.
“I don’t believe this,” he snarled. “You’re so stupid. I’m making money so I’m not a burden to this family, and you’re gonna make me lose my job. What kind of a mother are you?”
“I will not watch you waste away from lung cancer.”
“I’m not gonna get lung cancer. Or any kind of cancer. You’re just trying to ruin my life!”
Becky’s voice floated down the stairs. “Mom? Is everything okay?”
“Now you woke up your sister. Go to bed,” Mom said, “before you wake the rest of them up!”
The rest of them being Peter and Roger, who could sleep through a tornado. I didn’t bother to point that out to her, though.
Matt set his jaw. I had never seen him so calm. It frightened me.
“Fine,” he said. “If that’s how you want it, then fine. I’m tired of you telling me what to do and what not to do. I suppose you want to know when I take a pee, too.”
“That’s inappropriate,” Mom said.
“Well, I’m fed up with you. You and Roger. I’m almost seventeen. You can’t treat me like a child any more.” He stamped upstairs. I heard his bedroom door slam. Even that wouldn’t have awakened Peter, though.
Mom’s shoulders slumped. I heard her sigh – a deep, long, heartbreaking sigh. She turned to me. “Do you think I was too harsh?”
Two months ago, she wouldn’t have cared. Or asked my opinion. But things had gotten so good between us that I knew she was really trying. “I would have grounded him,” I shrugged. “But with Matt, you have to do it differently. He’s like a pile of charcoal soaked in lighter fluid. He’s ready to ignite at any moment.”
She put her hand on my cheek. “You’ll make a good writer someday,” she sighed, and then returned to her room.
I dashed upstairs to Matt’s room. I scratched on the door. He flung it open. On his bed lay a suitcase and a duffel bag. His dresser drawers were open - and empty.
Fear gripped my heart. “What are you doing?”
“You know what I’m doing.”
“Oh, Matt. Don’t go. Don’t leave.”
“I can’t stay. You heard her. Telling me what to do.”
“She’s trying to keep you from poisoning yourself. You know what happened to Grandpa.”
“It’s not that,” he spat in disgust. “It’s everything. I can’t deal with it anymore.”
“So you’re leaving? Really, truly?”
“Yep.”
He zipped his duffel bag shut, and locked his suitcase. Within a matter of minutes, he had packed his entire collection of worldly belongings into those two bags. He looked at me, his blue eyes bright with anger. “Are you going to try to stop me?”
“You’d probably break my arm,” I smiled sadly. I stepped aside. “Where will you go?”
“Cory’s place. They’ll take me for a few weeks. I’m already enrolled in college courses for the summer, so I can move into the dorms in June.”
“You have money?”
“I’ve got a job.”
“What about me?”
“You can still come with me if you want. I have enough to pay for two of us.”
I shook my head. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t want to leave.”
He dropped his jaw. “You don’t? Why not? What’s wrong with you? I thought you hated Mom!”
“No. I was angry for a while, but we’ve worked things out. She’s not the enemy, you know.”
“You’ve been brainwashed.”
“Come on, Matt. She’s really great when you get to know her. She’s funny, and intelligent, and sweet. Give her a chance.”
“What for? So she can ruin my life again? I’ve had enough of her.”
“You need to change that attitude. I did. It was me that made fights for us. I was always ready to argue, so she was, too. But once I decided to stop being so quarrelsome, the fights stopped. It was me, Matt, not her. It was me!”
He held up his hand. “Okay, you know what? Stop. Right there. I don’t need any little trite rules from your list.”
It was my turn to be shocked. He had never attacked my List before. It was like attacking my soul.
He pulled it out of his back pocket. “Naomi gave it to me in class today. She was too embarrassed to give it back to you personally.”
I snatched it from his hands. “Did anyone else see this?”
“Nope. She did say that if she had read this last year, she wouldn’t be in such a predicament now. I didn’t know you two liked each other.”
“We don’t.”
“Well, I don’t need you preaching at me.”
“I’m not going to.”
“Okay. Goodbye, then.” He held out h
is hand.
I looked at it in disbelief. “A handshake? That’s all you can offer?” I threw my arms around his neck. “Good luck, Matt. I’ll see you in school.”
He patted my back awkwardly. “See you around. And I’m sorry that you’re gonna take the heat for this.”
I wiped my eyes. “It’s no big deal. They’ll be angrier with you for leaving, than with me for not stopping you.”
“It’s not like you could stop me anyway.” He lugged his bags down to his car.
I watched him through the window and waved goodbye. He waved back, and then rolled down the driveway.
He was gone. As quickly as Margaret and Erika had left, he disappeared, too.
Matt’s sudden departure left a hole in my heart – and in the family. Mom felt like a complete failure. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know how. I always knew that we would grow up and grow apart someday, but I wasn’t prepared for it happening so soon. This was preventable. Or was it? Matt’s problems went a lot deeper than smoking and red ribbons. They had been brewing for years.
We didn't share any classes, or even lunch period this semester. I rarely saw him after that. Sometimes I’d pass him in the hallway and try to strike up conversation, but he seemed harder somehow. Cold, distant. Different. It was as if we lived in separate states.
Boom. Just like that. Our Brady Bunch was down to three of its six kids. If Roger left too, the casualty count would rise to fifty percent – and I couldn't decide if those would be acceptable losses or not.
