Julia's Daughters

by Colleen Faulkner

  When we spot a bright green VW Bug from the seventies and I mention the guy who took me to my junior prom in just such a vehicle, Haley seems to return to us.

  “His name was Rudolph?” she asks. “Like the reindeer?”

  I smile, remembering Rudolph Lexington. He’d been a nice boy, despite what my parents had thought about him. “No.” I laugh. “As in Valentino. The film actor. You know, The Sheik, The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

  “Izzy doesn’t know anything more than she did a minute ago,” Haley says with a poker face.

  I had forgotten how funny she could be. How could I have forgotten? Haley’s humor is something I always adored about her.

  Izzy ignores her sister. “Did you wear a dress?”

  “Of course I wore a dress.” A sense of nostalgia comes over me. “In fact, I wore two dresses.”

  “Two? At the same time?”

  More wit from the one sitting next to me. I wish I could figure out how to bring out more this side of Haley. She’s been distant all day and now suddenly she’s engaged. This is the Haley I knew before Caitlin died.

  I cut my eyes at Haley, trying to keep up the lighthearted banter. “Not at the same time. There was a cute, short, skimpy dress I really wanted, but my mother wouldn’t let me buy it, even though I had my own money. Instead, she bought me this ugly navy dress with a collar that went to my knees.”

  “For a formal dance?” Izzy cackles from the backseat.

  “And you wore it?” Haley asks.

  “The way it worked in my house was you did exactly as you were told or you didn’t go. The dress code was my stepfather’s making, but my mother enforced it. No cleavage, no bare arms, nothing above the knee. No skirts or shorts.”

  “Was he Mormon?” Haley.

  I shake my head.

  “Amish?” Haley again.

  Izzy laughs at her sister’s joke, and I realize that even though none of my orchestrated conversations came to pass today, something is definitely happening between Haley and Izzy. It seems as if Izzy is on the verge of speaking to her sister. Of saying something, even if it is F-off, as she would have put it. I think Izzy wants to speak to Haley; she just can’t quite get over the hump.

  “So, I wore the blue dress my mother bought downstairs,” I go on, “but I had a different dress in my bag. A friend loaned it to me. I stood for a picture in front of the fireplace in my mother’s living room with Rudy in the ridiculous sailor dress. He had good enough manners not to say anything about how awful it was. Then, once we drove away in the green punch buggy, I changed into the other dress.”

  “Right in the car, in front of a boy?” Izzy asks.

  Haley rolls her eyes in her sister’s direction, but doesn’t say anything.

  “The dress was a pale pink. Short.” I touch high on my thigh. “And sleeveless. Like a little tank dress, only it was lacy, sort of a flapper-style thing. It was pretty demure for nowadays, but daring for me.” Remembering the dress and how tickled I’d been that Rudy had asked me to the prom makes me feel warm inside. “I had a great night. At least until I got caught.” I watch cars zip past us, going in the opposite direction, and enjoy the memory. I’d been so infatuated with Rudy. I’d thought I was in love with him. He was my first serious crush. “After the prom, I was allowed to go out to this diner we used to go to with my friends, as long as I was home by eleven forty-five. I was going to change back into the navy getup in the car on the way home. But my stepdad came to the diner to see if I was really there and he caught me in the hussy dress.”

  Izzy leans forward. “What’s a hussy?”

  “It’s an old-fashioned word for a girl who puts out,” Haley explains.

  “Mom!” Izzy exclaims.

  I glance at Izzy in the rearview, amused by Haley’s definition and a little concerned that my youngest knows what it means to put out. “I was grounded for weeks. And when my prison sentence was almost up, I got caught lying about an SAT prep class I was supposedly taking. I was actually hanging out with Rudy, and my stepdad added weeks to my punishment. I spent half the summer before my senior year in high school in my bedroom.”

  Haley stares at me, a bit of a smirk on her face. “I can’t believe you did those things. You actually lied to your parents? Sneaked around?”

  I feel my cheeks grow warm. I’ve never told my children much about my teenage years because I didn’t want them to think what I did was okay. The lying, the sneaking around, the thinking I knew what was good for me more than my parents. Which I probably did, but that’s neither here nor there.

  “I was pretty disrespectful. They were doing what they thought was best.”

  Haley sits back in her seat and rubs her forearm, lost in her thoughts.

  I glance at her several times, trying to gauge her mood. Finally, I just ask, “Are you feeling like you want to do it?”

  She answers without hesitation. “A little bit.” She thinks on it. “But . . . it’s not too bad.”

  “Rubbing will irritate it,” I say before I think. “You’ll be bleeding again. And you used that whole box of Band-Aids. We’ll have to get more.”

  “I’m trying not to cut,” she says sharply, and looks out the window. “That’s going to have to be good enough for you right now, Mom.”

  We ride for a half hour in silence. I’ve killed the mood in the car. I’m annoyed with myself. Why couldn’t I just let it go? And Haley is right. She’s trying. That’s the first step.

  It’s after sunset when I take the exit off the interstate to go to the hotel where Haley made reservations for us.

  Haley holds the iPad over her head to pass it back to Izzy. “Can we stop at a drugstore? I better get some more Band-Aids. And some other stuff.”

  “Do you want to eat first? Stop at the drugstore first?” I make my tone light. “Or should we go to the hotel and drop off you know who.” I tilt my head toward the backseat, trying to be funny. Or at least amusing.

  “Mom, you can’t leave Izzy alone in a hotel room. She’s too young. Somebody will call child protective services.”

  I laugh out loud.

  Izzy looks annoyed. “I could stay alone if I wanted to.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t know why she has to be mean to me all the time.”

  The comment isn’t directed exactly to Haley, but it’s close. We’re definitely making headway. And I’m pleased. Now, if I can just keep Haley in the hotel room tonight, I’ll feel like we’ve had a good day. “Okay,” I say. “So drugstore first, then we’ll check in so we don’t lose our room, and then we get dinner. You guys decide where we’re going. My brain is fried.”

  I signal and pull into a chain drugstore parking lot. The minute the car stops, Haley opens the door and hops out. She leans back into the car. “We need anything else?”

  I wonder if I should go in with her. Just to keep an eye on her. But I feel like . . . I need to give her a little space. She could have taken off this morning if she’d wanted to. She didn’t and I need to have a little faith. “You need money?”

  “Of course.” Which sounds more like her than anything else she’s said today. Or maybe more like Caitlin. Caitlin always had her hand out for money. But that’s just teenagers, isn’t it?

  I grab my wallet out of the bag I’ve stashed behind her seat and pull out a twenty. “Enough?” I hold up the bill.

  She grimaces. I give her a ten, too, glad I thought to get money from an ATM when we made a bathroom stop this afternoon.

  “Be right back,” Haley says, and closes the door before I can say anything else.

  I let the interior light go out before I say anything to Izzy. I turn in my seat to look at her. She’s got her bare feet up on the seat, the cat on her lap. “You okay?” I ask.

  “She treats me like I’m a baby. You treat me like I’m a baby. No one gives me any credit for being as mature as I am. Did you know that Macy in my tae kwon do class still sleeps with her light on? She has bad dreams about Monsters, Inc. monster
s coming out of her closet.” She makes a face. “Which is stupid because who’s afraid of those kinds of monsters? Sulley’s cute and cuddly.” She gestures with one hand. “That was the whole point of the movie, right?”

  “I don’t think you’re a baby.”

  She doesn’t say anything.

  “Izz, if I thought you were less mature than you are, I wouldn’t have brought you on this trip. Your sister is dealing with some serious problems. Problems girls your age aren’t usually exposed to.”

  “Because she killed Caitlin.”

  “I told Haley,” I say sharper than I mean to, “and I’m telling you.” I check my tone and go on. “Haley didn’t kill Caitlin.” My voice cracks when I say her name and I pause a beat before I go on. “The word kill suggests premeditation. Do you know that word?”

  She doesn’t answer.

  “Do you keep a list of words? Like Haley and Caitlin used to? If you do, you should put it on your list. To do something premeditated means you intended to do it. You made plans ahead of time to see it through. Haley didn’t enter that intersection intending to run the stop sign. She didn’t intend to get hit by another car. She didn’t intend—”

  “For Caitlin to go through the windshield,” Izzy says softly.

  She’s staring straight ahead. I can see her face in the light coming from a sign advertising shingles shots free to all Medicare patients.

  She rubs her chin across Mr. Cat’s head. She won’t look at me. “Did she know Caitlin didn’t have her seat belt on? We always wear seat belts.”

  It’s a good question. I never posed it to Haley. I’m not sure if I want to know the answer or not. It won’t change anything. Of course if Haley didn’t know Caitlin wasn’t belted in, I might be able to convince her that that’s a good reason not to blame herself. But what if she did know?

  “It dings if you don’t buckle,” Izzy points out, still avoiding eye contact. “She should have heard the dinging and told Caitlin to put her seat belt on. Unless the dinger was broken. Do you think it was broken?” She looks at me hopefully. “It was a lame car. You think maybe the dinger was broken?”

  The look on Izzy’s face makes me want to lie to her. What if I told her the signal that alerted passengers to an unbuckled seat belt was broken? Would she talk to Haley then? But I can’t lie to her. Of course I can’t. “I don’t know if Haley knew Caitlin wasn’t buckled in. It could be that she unbuckled to get something.” I feel a heaviness coming over me. The weight of Caitlin’s death returning to sit on my shoulders and in the pit of my stomach. “I guess you could ask her.”

  Izzy doesn’t say anything; she just keeps petting the cat.

  I lean back in my seat and close my eyes for a minute. I’ve driven a little over six hundred miles today and I had the pants scared off me this morning. I’m tired. So tired I wonder how the girls would react to the idea of just grabbing something at a grocery store, checking into the hotel, and skipping the restaurant. We could have a picnic on one of the beds: good bread, cheese, olives, some gourmet cookies. It could be fun. And I could eat in the SpongeBob PJ bottoms Izzy loaned me. I sit here contemplating a long shower for a couple of minutes.

  Then I open my eyes. “How long has Haley been inside?”

  “I don’t know,” Izzy says.

  I pick up my cell phone. Laney’s texted me.

  Scouts. Home by nine. Call me when you get in. Hope you had a good day.

  I’ll call her later. Or maybe just text her.

  It’s 8:43. Has Haley been in the store ten minutes? Or has it been more than ten? It doesn’t take ten minutes to buy Band-Aids. And the place isn’t busy. I haven’t seen anyone go in since she did and only one person come out.

  I set my phone back on the console. I wait another two minutes before I pull the keys out of the ignition. “Stay in the car,” I say.

  “You’re leaving me here?”

  I hear Izzy release her seat belt. “I don’t want to stay here. I want to go in with you.”

  “Stay.” I get out of the car. “And keep the doors locked until I get back.”

  “I don’t think it’s legal to leave kids locked up in—”

  I close my door and lock the car with the key fob in my hand. I take one look at Izzy, watching me from the backseat, her face anxious, and I turn away. Then hurry to the sidewalk and through the automatic doors into the bright lights of the store. I glance at the checkout counter. No Haley. In fact, no customers. There’s a young man in a blue smock with a nametag texting on his cell.

  “Welcome to happy and healthy,” he greets in a Midwestern accent, sounding entirely too cheerful.

  I face the brightly lit store, trying to get my bearings. I scan signs. First aid is on the far side of the store. I walk quickly down one of the main aisles running perpendicular to the shorter ones. She’s not in hair care. She’s not in dental care. The makeup was up front. She wasn’t there either. And the aisle of Band-Aids and topical ointments is empty. I take the other main aisle, back toward the front door. There’s a man trying to figure out what diapers to get in the baby aisle. There’s not another soul in the store, except for the guy up front and another clerk, an androgynous someone, who’s stocking toilet paper.

  The young man at the front counter looks up and slides his cell into the pocket of his smock. “Can I help you?”

  “Was there a girl in here, just a minute ago? Black hair.” I touch my stubby ponytail and scrutinize his face, praying he’s an honest soul. “Bought Band-Aids?”

  He nods. “Sure was.”

  I plant both hands on the counter. “Do you know where she went? She’s my daughter.” I feel that sense of panic coming on again. But she doesn’t even have her backpack. She couldn’t have left. “I was outside waiting for her. I didn’t see her come out the front.”

  “She asked where the restroom is.” He points. “Near the pharmacy.”

  I exhale, realizing only now that I’ve been holding my breath. “Restroom,” I repeat. “Right. Thanks.” I give him a quick smile and hurry in that direction.

  At the back of the store, there’s a small hallway right off the pharmacy waiting area. The pharmacy’s closed. I push the heavy door labeled LADIES and it swings open. I hear the water running before I see her.

  She looks up from washing her hands, surprised.

  I inaudibly heave a sigh of relief. Am I being paranoid? I think I am. “Have to pee.” I give my daughter the same smile I gave the guy out front. I don’t want her to know I’m checking up on her.

  “Again? We stopped an hour ago.”

  “Hour and a half.” I make a beeline for the closest stall. Luckily, I really do have to pee.

  Haley’s waiting near the door for me when I come out of the stall. She’s got a small plastic bag dangling from her wrist. She isn’t wearing her usual black eyeliner today and I realize how young she looks without it. Younger than she is. Is that why she wears it?

  I flip on the water and soap my hands. “Get what you need?”

  “Yup.”

  I rinse and walk over to the paper towel dispenser. It’s not the automatic kind. I pull several brown paper towels out and dry my hands. There’s a small, open waste can near the door. As I drop my damp paper towels into it, I see a white and pink box on the top.

  Even without reading the words, I know what it is. A pregnancy test. And I’m so naïve . . . such an idiot that the first thought that goes through my head is aww, isn’t that sweet? Whoever bought the test was so excited, she couldn’t even wait to get home to find out.

  Then it hits me . . . as hard as if Haley reached out and slapped me in the face.

  It’s Haley’s pregnancy test. My daughter just took a pregnancy test.

  I meet her gaze and I know I’m right. And then I don’t know what comes over me. She has the door halfway open and I reach out and shove it shut, practically having to wrestle it because it’s on a pneumatic drive.

  “You’re pregnant?” I shout, loud enough for
the young man in the front of the store, no doubt, to hear me. “You’re fucking pregnant?”

  Chapter 32

  Haley

  51 days, 22 hours

  Mom startles me and I take a step back. Her voice echoes so loud in my head and in the tile bathroom that I want to cover my ears with my hands.

  I don’t think she’s ever yelled at me like this before. She certainly never hollered the F word at me. Moms aren’t supposed to say that. That word’s for punky teenagers like me. Isn’t it?

  So it scares me.

  She scares me.

  As she pushes the door shut, trapping me inside the bathroom with her, I take another step back, without even meaning to. It’s just what you do, I guess. You try to get away from the crazy person, even if she’s your mother.

  When Todd didn’t show up last night, when he didn’t even bother to text me to tell me he wasn’t coming, I was weirdly okay with it. Now, I wish he’d come. I wish I could have made him come for me. I wish I were headed for Alaska right this minute. Even being in a car with loser Todd would be better than being trapped with my mother in a bathroom off an interstate.

  “Are you pregnant?” she repeats through gritted teeth.

  “No,” I whisper. You’d think my response would be to holler back. I think my response should be to holler back, but I don’t. “It’s negative. See.” I point at the box.

  I can’t believe I was dumb enough to put it in the trash can. But there wasn’t one of those personal hygiene receptacles in the bathroom stall and she wasn’t supposed to come into the store. She was supposed to be waiting in the car for me.

  “Look for yourself.” I take the two steps to the trash can, grab the box, and pull the pee stick out. I hold it up so she can see. My hand is shaking. I don’t know why. “Negative. See?”

  She grabs it out of my hand, which is kind of gross, because I peed on it. She stares at it for a second. “Did you follow the directions?” She’s still loud. And still really pissed. “Because if you didn’t follow the directions—”