A World Away

by Nancy Grossman

  I brought my quilting to Aunt Beth’s house on Sunday, and we stitched together after dinner, talking animatedly about color values and pattern arrangements as our needles rose and fell. In the late afternoons, when Janie’s homework was done, I helped her measure and trace the shapes, and cut them carefully so the edges were neat and straight.

  Quilting was always waiting for me when Ben and Janie were at school and my list of chores was checked off, or at night after the children went to bed. By the time the weekend came around, I had finished the twelve squares I needed for the quilt top. Aunt Beth took me to the quilting store on Saturday to buy the batting that would provide the soft cushion between the quilt squares and the backing. My date with Josh would be later that night, and I was surprised to realize how quickly our time apart had gone by.

  It had to be a cheap date, Josh had explained; just coffee and dessert at the Bean Scene. I wore blue jeans and a pink sweater, and I let my hair hang loose over my shoulders. When I answered the door, he was waiting there with a smile that was a little bit shy. His hug was warm and tight, the way it used to be, and I felt the heat deep inside me. I was still angry, but it was a thinned-out anger, not quite as sharp as it had been two weeks ago.

  We walked to the Bean Scene holding hands, the October night cool and fragrant around us. Josh talked about his extra shifts at work and how it wasn’t so bad after all because he was learning so much about the new products. We got to the coffee shop and settled into a corner table, each with a steaming cup of tea and a cookie. He talked about history class and how he was sure Mr. Rozey gave more homework than the other history teacher. He talked about the French teacher he just calls “Madame” and how he wants to spend a semester in Paris when he’s in college. He stopped and looked at me as though for the first time. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been doing all the talking.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “I like hearing about your school.” But it wasn’t okay. He was talking about a future I couldn’t have. He said it all so casually, like it was nothing to go to high school and then head on to the university and then hop on a plane and study in Paris. And where would I be during all of this? I took a long sip of tea. I’d been so eager to see him again, but this wasn’t what I was expecting.

  “Look,” he said. “I have to explain some things about the dance.”

  “I already know.”

  “Valerie?” he asked. I nodded. “I was wrong not to tell you about the party. I just really wanted to be with you. And I was afraid if you knew that everyone was sleeping over, you wouldn’t be allowed to stay. So I thought that if you didn’t know…” His voice trailed off. “It sounds pretty lame now that I’m trying to explain it, right?”

  I nodded my agreement. “It does sound pretty lame.”

  “So, anyway,” he went on, “I’m really sorry for everything. I shouldn’t have lied to you about the party. And I should never have let you get drunk and sick.” He reached for my hand, and I let him take it. “I promise to be a better boyfriend from now on.”

  I felt his hand, warm and firm around mine. “Thanks,” I said. Then I remembered my talk with Aunt Beth and Uncle John. “And there were some good parts of the night, you know. I want to remember getting all dressed up and dancing with you.”

  He smiled. “So do I.”

  “And I don’t want to be mad at you,” I said. He leaned back in his chair, looking grateful. I smiled. “But is it all right for me to be mad at Valerie?”

  He picked up his cup and clicked it against mine. “That’s a deal.”

  We chewed on our cookies and sipped tea in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. A guitarist was in the corner strumming gentle tunes. Quiet conversations hummed through the place, and I felt peaceful again. Josh broke the silence. “So tell me about what you’ve been up to.”

  I couldn’t think of what to say. The colors sang in my quilt squares and I was all caught up on my letters home. But I didn’t think Josh would be interested in any of that. So instead I asked him questions about his friends and his job at the Apple store. And the evening went along just fine.

  But not really.

  The next weekend we met Greg and Valerie for ice cream. I hadn’t seen her since the afternoon at the Bean Scene, and I felt a wave of nervousness when we slid into the booth while the boys were placing our order. Valerie was fidgety, tugging on her hair.

  “So,” she said, as though continuing a conversation, “I guess I owe you an apology.”

  I looked back at her, surprised, and waited for her to continue.

  “I shouldn’t have made you feel like you got us all into trouble after Homecoming.” She ran her hand through her hair, shaking it with her fingers.

  I waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. “Thanks,” I said.

  “So, are we okay?”

  I thought about “okay.” It was not bad and not good. A teacher wrote “OK” on your homework if you completed it, but she wrote “Good” or “Excellent” if you had done it well. “Yes,” I said. “We’re okay.”

  “Good,” she said, smiling.

  And I thought, not good, Valerie. Just okay.

  Halloween was ringing through Rachel’s house, and it was all the children talked about. Janie was dressing as Madeline in a costume Rachel had ordered from a catalog. Ben was going to be a baseball player.

  In the days before the holiday, I helped the children scoop the slimy insides out of their pumpkins and carve them into jacko’-lanterns. Janie used marker on hers to draw brows and lashes around the carved-out eyes. Ben just wanted his to look creepy, and he thought that the more eyes it had, the better. We baked the pumpkin seeds in shallow pans, though no one wanted to eat them. Janie helped me decorate the front window with dark streamers and cutouts of pumpkins and witches’ hats, while Ben sat by us complaining that it wasn’t scary enough.

  On Halloween morning the children were up early, excited to go to school in their costumes. They stood in front of Rachel’s camera, Janie in a blue dress and yellow hat, and Ben in his Little

  League uniform and Cubs hat. After school they burst off the bus, ready to go trick-or-treating.

  “And we’re not going to the Robbinses’ house,” said Ben, as Rachel gathered their bags and flashlights.

  Rachel smiled at me. “Dr. Robbins is a dentist,” she explained. “Instead of candy he gives out toothbrushes.” I felt the airy sense of held-in laughter as I watched them leave the house.

  I tried to imagine how I would describe this event to my parents. It all seemed harmless enough. The begging for candy would be hard to explain, but maybe if they realized that the entire community participates, it would seem more like trading than begging.

  When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, I opened it excitedly. On the doorstep were two boys dressed as dinosaurs.

  “Trick or treat!” they cried in unison.

  “Well, don’t you look scary,” I said as I plunked a tiny Milky Way bar into each extended bag. But by the time my words were half out, the children had dashed from the stoop, their tails flailing behind them. It continued like this for the next hour. I opened the door to a variety of dark creatures and colorful characters, all with bags extended, all anxious to catch their loot and trot off to the next house. After I gave candy to a small pirate, I closed the door only to have the bell ring again. Josh was standing on the stoop, his backpack slung over his shoulder. “Trick or treat,” he said.

  He stepped inside, and I put down the candy bowl as he pulled me into an embrace, his lips and tongue searching for mine. I smiled against his kiss. “They’ll be coming home any time,” I said.

  He stepped back and looked at me in that hungry way that made me feel a little bit pretty and a little bit mischievous. The doorbell rang again, and I dropped a piece of candy into the bags of two girls dressed as fairies. After I closed the door, I turned to Josh. “I wasn’t expecting you so early. Rachel’s still with the kids, and she and Sam won’t be going out until la
ter.”

  “That’s okay,” he said. “I brought some homework, and I thought I’d keep you company during the trick-or-treating.”

  A warm contentment filled me as I answered the door to a doctor and a ninja and a cowboy. An evening with Josh awaited me after the children were in bed, and I was looking forward to it. The holiday was getting boring, with all the outstretched bags and ungracious retreats. The next time the doorbell rang, I considered not answering, but Rachel had told me that older children sometimes vandalize houses where they don’t get treats.

  While I opened the door, I absently reached for the half-empty bowl of candy. Then, facing the two figures on the doorstep, I froze. The smaller girl was dressed as a princess, a shiny crown atop her blond head. The taller girl had a different costume. The first thing I noticed was the kapp, the one I hadn’t worn since I’d left home. My eyes traveled down the familiar purple dress and the starchy white apron, then up to Valerie’s face.

  “Trick or treat,” said the little girl.

  “This is my sister Michelle,” said Valerie, her grin spreading up her face. “How do we look?”

  I stared in silence at the image before me. There on the doorstep

  I saw myself and my mother and sisters and friends, and all the Plain people who filled my other world.

  “Well, you said I could borrow it, didn’t you?” said Valerie, shifting her weight. “And don’t worry. I’ll clean it before I give it back.”

  Still I couldn’t speak. I stepped back from the door and felt the smoothness of the bowl against my palms before it slipped from my fingers in an explosive crash. Michelle looked startled at the sound, and Valerie reached for her hand. Ignoring the fragments of glass on the floor, and the scattering of candy at my feet, I looked at Valerie, the reflection of myself, and saw what she saw. Someone in a costume, someone to be mocked.

  “Liza?” came Josh’s voice from the kitchen. “Is everything all right?” I couldn’t answer.

  Bending down, I began to pick up the shards of glass, almost enjoying the roughness of the jagged edges against my skin. In front of me, Valerie and her sister stood quietly on the stoop. Josh was beside me now. I sensed him looking down at me and then out at the scene before him. I heard his intake of breath before he spoke. “Valerie, seriously?”

  “Eliza knew about this,” said Valerie. “She said I could borrow her dress to show my sister. Right, Eliza?”

  “Yes,” I said in a small voice. “To show your sister.” I could feel something stinging the palm of my hand, and saw a red drop fall on the floor. I was thinking that I needed to clean up this mess and that I needed to get fresh candy and that the children would be back soon for their dinner. I looked up and saw that the smile had slipped from Valerie’s lips. The kapp was slightly askew, her hair hanging past her shoulders in limp strands. She didn’t have it right, I was thinking. Her hair should be tied back or braided. She couldn’t even mock me right. Valerie tugged her sister’s hand and they hurried off the stoop.

  Josh slammed the door and turned to me, the expression on his face inching from anger to concern. He stooped beside me and reached for my hand. “Come on,” he said. “We have to take care of this.” He led me to the kitchen and held my hand under the faucet. The cut stung under the water, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. It wasn’t like seeing the fake Amish girl who was sometimes my friend looking at me with blank amusement. “It doesn’t look too deep.” He pressed a piece of paper towel against the cut. “Here,” he said, his voice tender. He guided me to a chair and placed my other hand where his had been. “Hold this with pressure while I clean up the mess.”

  He opened a fresh bag of candy and brought a broom and dustpan to the front door. Listening to the clinking sounds of the broken glass, interrupted by the doorbell ushering in more trick-or-treaters, I thought about what a silly holiday this was.

  A few minutes later, Josh was back, the dustpan brimming with glass pieces and miniature candy bars. He emptied it all into the garbage with a clattering sound and then returned to my side. “Looks better,” he said. We went upstairs, and Josh helped me wash the cut and apply first-aid cream. Then he carefully covered the wound with a bandage. “All better?” he asked. I nodded, swallowing back a trembling feeling. He paused before adding, “Listen, I don’t know what Valerie was thinking. I’m sorry this happened.”

  I looked at Josh, and he met my gaze. “So am I.”

  He reached for me. I felt the reassurance of his arms wrapped around me, my head against his shoulder.

  Back downstairs, I went to work making the children’s dinner—macaroni and cheese from a box, the noodles shaped like one of their cartoon characters. The cheese was nothing more than a packet of powder, but it was their favorite meal and I wanted everything to be easy. When Ben and Janie tumbled into the house, with Rachel following wearily behind them, I served them dinner.

  Sam came home and smiled as he listened to their descriptions of Halloween. Later, with the children bathed and busy sorting their candy, I found Josh at the kitchen table with Rachel and Sam. They all looked up when I came in the room.

  “I’m so sorry about what happened with Josh’s friend,” said Rachel.

  Josh interrupted her. “My former friend.”

  His face was firm and unsmiling. A feeling of satisfaction crept over me.

  Sam cleared his throat. “I don’t know Valerie, but I think she’s either completely clueless or just very self-involved.”

  Josh laughed. “I guess you do know Valerie. And she’s both.” We joined in Josh’s laughter, and I felt myself beginning to relax.

  Rachel and Sam left for their evening out, and I put the children to bed. When I came down to the family room, Josh was waiting, a smile wide across his face. “Here,” he said. “I brought you a surprise.”

  I looked at the DVD in his outstretched hand. On the cover was a picture of a woman in a black dress and striped apron, her arms outstretched, beautiful mountain scenery in the background. The words sprang out at me: The Sound of Music. I threw my arms around Josh’s neck, and he kissed the top of my head. “Now don’t tell Greg about this. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  We settled on the couch and started to watch. I was quickly pulled into the story of the nun who didn’t fit in with the others and was sent away to care for a widower’s seven children.

  It was a wonderful movie, and Josh and I watched it bundled together like we were melting into each other. When it ended we stayed together on the couch, neither one of us wanting to reach for the remote, the picture now only a bluish glow. “What are you thinking?” Josh whispered, his hand rubbing my back in soft, slow circles.

  My voice was a murmur. “I’ve been wanting to see this movie since I was a little girl and my mother told me about it.”

  “And?”

  I paused, trying to figure out exactly what I was feeling. “And now I’ve seen it.”

  I waited, thinking that there must be more to say about this moment. But there wasn’t. That was all I could think of. Now I’ve seen it.

  A few days later, as I was getting Janie into bed, Rachel called up the stairs to me. “Someone’s here for you.” I stepped out of Janie’s room and looked down the stairs to see Valerie standing in the hallway by the front door, the hook of a metal hanger looped over her fingers. Beneath the transparent plastic, I could see my dress, apron, and kapp.

  I went downstairs, and Valerie stepped forward, extending the hanger to me. “I had it dry-cleaned.” Her voice sounded squeaky, her words measured. I felt the soft stickiness of the plastic as I took the hanger from Valerie’s outstretched hand.

  The chemical smell wafting from the dress was clean but not fresh. I thought of wash days at home, when my mother and I cranked the wet clothes through the wringer and hung each item in a row on the clothesline.

  At the sound of a cough, I looked up, surprised to see that Valerie was still standing there. “Was there something else you wanted?”

  �
�Yeah, I thought you’d like to know that everyone’s mad at me. Again. And you did tell me I could borrow your dress, didn’t you? And I did take good care of it, didn’t I?”

  I cleared my throat. “I guess I didn’t like being turned into a joke.”

  Valerie nodded. “Well, to be honest, I’m tired of worrying about what you like and don’t like. You know, things haven’t been too wonderful for me since you got here. I didn’t just get in trouble after Homecoming. I got in trouble for corrupting an AH-mish girl.” She flicked her hair behind her shoulders with a toss of her head. “And Josh. It’s ancient history, so I shouldn’t really care, but when we were together he always looked bored. Or he rolled his eyes like I wasn’t worldly enough for him. Then you come along, and he’s totally fascinated by you. Go figure that out.”

  “So you decided to embarrass me?” I asked, my voice gaining strength.

  “Not exactly. I just wanted to take my sister out for Halloween, and I needed a…” Her voice trailed off.

  “A costume?”

  Valerie paused and squinted at me, as though trying to see me more clearly. “Well, isn’t that what you’re doing here? Aren’t you dressing like us?”

  I sucked in a breath, but I didn’t have an answer for her.

  “I thought I was being pretty nice to you, taking you shopping, introducing you to my friends. Then you go and say that I can’t be trusted. Well, I just want you to know that you aren’t the only one who’s been insulted.”

  This was a lot for me to take in. Valerie had been hurtful, and I would never forget that. But in her own way she had been hurt, too.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “When I came here, I thought we could be friends.”

  Valerie didn’t answer. Her eyes looked far away, her features flat. Her thumbs hooked through the belt loops of her jeans, and her sneakered foot tapped the floor. She wasn’t going to return the apology. She was waiting for me to release her.