And then I said the thing I thought I’d never say out loud to her, or to anyone, really. I couldn’t help it. It just slipped out. “I just feel like when you have a choice between me and Barry, you always pick Barry.”
“Stephanie!” Mama’s jaw dropped and her brown eyes went wide. “I can’t believe you would think that!”
My face got hot, and I looked away from her. I almost said I was sorry, because I never want anyone to be upset with me. But what I said was true, and then I thought about the way Diana doesn’t back down. I set my jaw and glared at Mama.
The server came. “May I take your plates?”
I had hardly eaten any of my ravioli and Mama had barely touched her chicken piccata. We had him box them up and then we didn’t speak the whole way home. I was so mad I could cry. When I got out of the car, she didn’t say anything. She just looked straight ahead.
“Thanks for dinner,” I said in a flat voice. Then I slammed the car door.
Mama had texted me several times since then, but I ignored her.
3
DIANA
A few days after our “family talk” about Mom and Norm’s weekend, I called Noah.
“¡Caramba! Se me olvido mi cuaderno,” he said. (Which means, “Shoot! I forgot my book!”)
“¿De veras? ¡Que lastima! Usted puede pedir prestado de minas,” I answered, laughing. (Which means, “Really? What a shame! You can borrow mine.”)
This was the way we always opened our phone conversations. He’d been in my Spanish class last semester, and the first time he called me, we’d practiced a Spanish dialogue.
“What are you doing?” he asked now.
“I think my parents are going to marriage counseling.” I straightened the horse statues lined on the bookshelf beside my desk. They were kind of babyish, I guess, but I still liked them. Then I lay on my bed, making a pillow from a big stuffed horse Mom had given me years ago for my birthday. “They didn’t tell us, but we’ve figured it out.”
“My parents went to marriage counseling. Before they got a divorce,” he said.
“That went well.” I laughed loudly, pretending it was funny. The reason Noah had moved here in the middle of the year was because his mom had married Kevin’s dad.
Then there was a silence between us.
“Noah?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“Me neither.”
Last semester, when people were calling me names, and Noah was new, he was the one who asked me why I didn’t just punch somebody. After I got back to school from being suspended, I went up to Noah in the hall and yelled at him.
“It’s your fault I got suspended!”
“Excuse me?” he said, ducking away from me, pushing his longish, wavy blond hair behind his ear.
“You made me throw my book at her!” I followed him down the hall.
“How did I make you?” He stopped and turned to face me.
“You know what I mean! You’re the one who told me to punch somebody.”
“I say a lot of stuff,” he said. “You shouldn’t pay attention to me.” We were standing still and people flowed around us like fish in a river. “No one else does.”
“I did. I paid attention to you,” I said. He was looking at me funny, with these intense greenish-blue eyes.
Two nights later he called me to practice our Spanish dialogue for class, and gradually, we started talking a couple of times a week. And he always said the same thing when I picked up the phone. “Caramba! Se me olvido mi cuaderno.” And then one Friday night at a basketball game, when we all went to watch Stephanie’s squad perform during half-time, he showed up by himself. Came over and sat next to me on the bleachers. He alternated between two flannel shirts, one mostly green, the other mostly red. His mom was a nurse and worked the night shift, so a lot of times he was on his own for dinner, and Mom started inviting him over. He was teaching himself to play guitar, and he’d bring it and play songs for us. I remember the first song he played for us was “Hey Jude,” by the Beatles.
He wasn’t my boyfriend. We just hung out. It was cool to have a guy friend. It was cool to have a friend, period.
The next day, work was crazy. By the end of my shift, I was so sweaty from skating into that hot kitchen that my shirt was sticking to me, and the skates were killing my feet. Right before I was about to get off, I brought a burger to some guy with big teeth and he opened it and said, “It’s not cooked enough. Take it back!”
I took it back. Brought it back out. He ripped it open, and, without looking at me, said, “Still not done enough.” He threw it back onto my tray.
I almost said, “What do you want me to do, buddy, light it on fire?” But I heard Dr. Shrink’s voice in my head telling me to count to ten. “I’ll get the manager,” I said, and skated away from him before I exploded.
By the time Mom picked me up, I was ready to throw something. As I opened the back door to drop my skates on the floor, Mom said “I can’t help it, Norm!” into her phone, and then tossed it into the cup holder. Her mouth was set in an angry line. She moved to the passenger seat so I could drive home. “Whew,” she said. “You smell like greasy French fries.”
“I love you, too.” I climbed into the driver’s seat, and put on my seat belt. “Oh, my feet are killing me! And why are people so rude to servers? They don’t even treat us like humans.” I backed out of the parking space and pulled into the lane leading out of the lot.
Normally Mom would commiserate with me, but today she didn’t answer. “Look left and check traffic before you pull out,” was all she said.
“I know, Mom. You don’t have to tell me. I got it!” I said, glancing left..
“I do have to tell you! You haven’t got it!” Mom’s voice rose. “Or else you already would have done it!”
“Okay, okay! What’s with you these days, anyway?”
She glanced at me with a guilty look on her face and swept her short blonde hair behind her ear. “Oh, nothing.”
“Then why do you and Norm keep fighting?”
“We’re not fighting.”
“So the yelling and the hanging up the phone are just my imagination.”
Mom sighed. “Diana, Norm and I are trying to balance everything and sometimes … sometimes there’s not enough of us to go around, that’s all.”
I almost told her that I knew about the counseling weekend. It was on the tip of my tongue. But I didn’t. Instead, I said, in a voice imitating Dr. Shrink, “Just remember, Stephanie and I are vulnerable to insecurities about our home and family because of the divorces.”
Mom laughed. “Maybe we’ve had you in therapy too long, Diana.”
“It wasn’t my idea.” Though I didn’t like therapy at first, now I kind of enjoyed spilling my guts to Dr. Shrink. Who else would sit and listen for fifty minutes while I talked about myself? I’d learned the whole counting to ten thing like I did tonight with the guy with the big teeth. She’d taught me how to rate my moods. I called it the Moronic Mood-o-meter, but it worked. She’d taught me to think about stuff that relaxed me, like being at the barn.
“Don’t forget to put on your left turn signal,” Mom said. “So many drivers these days don’t put on their signals.”
“I’ve got it!” I flipped on the signal.
“Diana, I’m not going to let you drive if you keep acting like this!”
“Okay, okay!”
Sometimes life felt like one big argument.
4
STEPHANIE
Diana and I peered out the windows from the back seat as Lynn turned onto a winding road. It sloped gradually downhill as it meandered toward the water, with these really big oaks and pines shading it from either side. Some of the houses along the shoreline looked old, from the seventies, while others looked new. Little tiny trailers stood next to big two story houses with peaked roofs and circular driveways. In each back yard, graying wooden docks with boatslips stretched in
to the water. Aluminum pontoon boats floated in some of the boat slips, while cigar boats, ski boats, and sailboats were in others.
“Lake Norman is a huge manmade lake,” Lynn told us. “It was made when Duke Power dammed up the Catawba River about fifty years ago. Underneath the water are houses and farms and roads that the rising water swallowed up.”
“Weird,” I said. “Imagine riding along in a boat and looking down and seeing a chimney or a roof. Or think about the rooms in the houses, with fish swimming through.”
“Freaky,” Diana said. “And maybe some skeleton with algae sitting in a rocking chair on the porch.”
“Don’t say that!” I said. Diana was always trying to creep me out. It didn’t take much. “Now I won’t go swimming!”
“Stephanie being afraid to do something …” Diana said. “That would be different.”
“Anyway, it took a long time for the water to rise to its peak,” Lynn said.
“And then they named it after me,” said Daddy with a laugh.
Lynn didn’t laugh at Daddy’s joke. Was she mad at something Daddy said? Was I reading too much into it?
I’d been watching them every minute to see if they were fighting. I’d started praying at night that they wouldn’t get a divorce. I wondered if God was tired of me always asking for things. But I couldn’t help it.
I didn’t talk to Diana about it because she’d just make fun of me for even praying. For thinking God might find time to listen to my prayers.
Next to me in the back seat, Diana looked out the window into the woods, and I got a text from Colleen.
Guess who’s having a party Saturday night?
Who?
Hunter Wendell.
My heart tripped. Hunter had been in my biology class, and I had had a secret crush on him all last semester. He was a swimmer, with big shoulders and small hips. Very quiet and cute. But not even Colleen knew about my crush. No one did.
Hmm … Are you invited?
I knew I couldn’t go, but still, I wanted him to invite me. Had he even noticed me?
Yeah.
The heat of jealousy raced up my neck to my cheeks.
You can come with me.
No — can’t. Parents gone. Staying with D’s grandparents.
I looked up as Lynn started turning into a gravel driveway. “How long are we staying again?” I asked.
“We’ll be back on Sunday night,” Lynn said, as we approached a two story cottage with gray shingles. It nestled on a wide sloping lawn leading to a glass-like expanse of greenish-blue water.
Just as we turned in, I got another text. It was from Diana.
I’m going to invite Noah over.
I looked at her while she raised her eyebrows. I shook my head.
She texted me again.
Why not?
Noah and Diana had gotten to be best buddies. I didn’t think he should come over while we were visiting with Grandpa and Grandma Roberts. I just didn’t. But I couldn’t think of a reason.
You say you don’t like him like that.
Just then we came to the end of the driveway, and a big silver-haired man with a ruddy face came out of the side door, waving enthusiastically, using broad arm motions to direct Lynn where to park. He looked just the same as he did two years ago when I met him at Daddy and Lynn’s wedding. His eyes and smile looked like Lynn’s.
“He always tells me where to park,” Lynn said under her breath to Daddy. “It’s like I’m still learning how to drive.”
“Now you know how I feel,” Diana said.
“Oh, just roll with it.” Daddy squeezed Lynn’s arm.
Did he say that in a mad voice or a joking voice? Was that arm squeeze a sign of affection, or a sign of annoyance? I wished I could stop overanalyzing every little thing.
“Hi, Dad!” Lynn called as she climbed out of the car. She ran to him, and Grandpa Roberts enveloped her in a hug.
Then he started hugging everyone, even me. “Now let me give this beautiful young lady a hug, too,” he said, and soon crushed me in his warm, muscular arms.
Grandma Roberts, a tiny white-haired lady, came out onto the porch. “There you are!” she cried. “I thought you would never get here!”
“But we’re not late, Mom,” Lynn said.
“I know, I was just so eager for you to come I hardly knew what to do with myself. Come on and eat lunch! I have food ready.”
“I told you we wouldn’t have time to eat,” Lynn said.
“You have time for a little something.”
“Norm and I have to get on the road. We have to check in this afternoon.”
“At least you have time to come see the goose eggs we have down on our pontoon boat cover,” said Grandpa Roberts. “There’re seven of them. I think they’re going to hatch any day now. And then we’ll have little goslings!”
“Goslings?” asked Diana. “Cool!”
“Come in, come in,” Grandma Roberts said. “Grandpa’s early tomatoes are in, and I have some soup or you can just have tomato sandwiches.”
Diana glanced at me and made a comical face. “I forgot to tell you about the tomatoes. The tomatoes that ate New York.”
“Lynn and I can only stay a few minutes,” Norm said. “We really appreciate you all keeping the kids.”
“Oh, we love it!” exclaimed Grandpa Roberts.
There was no saying no. In a few minutes, we were sitting around Grandma Roberts’ table eating tomato vegetable soup. Grandma Roberts said how pleased they were to have me here with them, and she laid her small, cool hand on my arm.
“Well, I just think every married couple needs to have a little time together,” said Grandma Roberts. “I’m so glad you two are going away for a few days. And don’t you worry about the girls one bit, we are going to be fine, aren’t we?”
I studied Daddy’s face, then Lynn’s. Had they told Grandpa and Grandma Roberts they were going to get marriage counseling? When they kept it a secret from us? Didn’t they think we were old enough to understand …?
“So, Stephanie, what do you say?” Grandpa Roberts saying my name brought me out of my daydream. “Can you waterski? Kneeboard?”
“No, sir.” I felt confusion and a twinge of panic. What had I missed? I didn’t dare even look at Daddy. I looked at my soup bowl. Daddy would think it was a fantastic idea for me to be an expert water skier when I came home from this weekend.
“Excellent!” Grandpa Roberts said jovially. “We’ll go skiing late this afternoon, then, when the lake traffic has died down and the water is like glass. You’ll pop right up and be skiing like nobody’s business.”
“Sounds great, Steph,” said Daddy. “Isn’t it great to have an experienced boat driver willing to take the time to teach you? Thanks, George.”
My chest tightened. I knew it! I knew he would love the idea.
“We don’t have to go today,” Diana jumped in. I shot her a look of gratitude.
“Of course we do!” said Grandpa Roberts. “You girls are going to have the time of your lives this weekend. We’ll have you kneeboarding and slaloming and jumping the wake by Monday, Miss Stephanie. Why, when your parents come to get you, you won’t even want to go home! In fact, you two just head on back home Sunday night, just leave them here.”
My heart squeezed hard, like somebody was standing on my chest. I fake-laughed with everyone else just so I wouldn’t cry.
“Dad,” said Lynn, laughing. “When we get here on Sunday, we’re going to want our kids back.”
“Well,” said Grandma Roberts. “You just may not get them.”
Our goodbyes felt rushed. My throat got dry, and my stomach started to hurt. Jumping the wake? Staying with grandparents who were practically strangers? Waiting for Daddy and Lynn to talk to Jon and Olivia about whether our lives would change? How was I going to survive this weekend?
Before I knew it, Daddy and Lynn backed out of the driveway. Their car rounded the bend and then drove out of sight. I had to set my jaw. Somebo
dy who’s fifteen shouldn’t cry when her parents leave.
“Diana, Stephanie, come down to the dock and see the mother goose,” Grandpa Roberts said. I felt so glad to have something to do that I ran through the grassy yard all the way to the dock.
I followed Diana and Grandpa Roberts out onto the long dock, looking through the slits between the wooden boards at the shifting brownish-green water a few feet below. The sun was shining and the surface of the lake sparkled in sweeping patterns, feathered by the wind. Some people drove by in a boat, waving. We waved back. The wake from their boat rippled toward us, gently vibrating the dock, and then lapped onto the shore.
At the end of the long dock floated a smaller dock and a boat slip with a metal roof. In that boat slip bobbed a pontoon boat with a canvas cover. In an indentation of the cover toward the front of the boat sat a Canada goose, with her full gray body and long dark neck and head, with white markings on her throat and chin. As we approached she lowered her head, opened her black beak, and hissed at us.
“She’s sitting on seven eggs,” said Grandpa Roberts. “She never leaves the nest. There’s the male right there. He goes and gets food for her.”
Sure enough, swimming just along the edge of the dock was a dark-headed goose a little bit bigger than the one on the nest. He gave us a searching look and swam in a wary circle, ruffling his wings.
“They’re used to Grandma and me, and eventually they’ll get used to you, too,” Grandpa said. “But we’re not going to be able to use the pontoon boat for awhile!”
Just then Grandma Roberts joined us with a plastic bag of bread in her hand. She tossed some small pieces to the male, which swam forward quickly, stuck his neck out, and gobbled them down.
“Can I feed the female?” Diana asked.
“Sure.” Grandma Roberts handed Diana some bread, and she tossed it close to the female sitting on the eggs. The female ignored the bread at first. Then, cautiously, without moving her body, she stretched her neck to reach the morsel. She grasped it in her bill, jerked her head rapidly to gulp it down, then sat back upright, eyeing us with suspicion.
Season of Change Page 2
