by Hantz, Sara
“Mom, don’t worry. I’m not messing either of them around. Ryan and I are just friends. That’s all.” And when we go out it won’t be like going out in the strictest sense, so it doesn’t count. “Call me when dinner’s ready, please. I’m going upstairs to do my homework.”
***
“Suzy,” Lori calls when I walk into the class. “Sit here.” She pats the chair beside her. “I’ve got something for you,” she says, once I’m seated. “Here.” She hands me a big ivory colored envelope, which feels very expensive—not that I’m an envelope expert—with Suzy written on the front.
“Thanks.” I take it from her. “What is it?”
“Open it and find out.” She has this silly smirk on her face and is wriggling all excitedly in her chair. If I didn’t know better I’d say it was an invitation to a bouncy castle party, or something equally childlike.
I slide my finger under the seal, open the envelope and pull out a big card. On the front, in fancy gold lettering, it says Marlene and Bruce.
“Who are Marlene and Bruce?”
“You’ll see.”
I open it up. Wow. Suzy and Partner are invited to celebrate the silver wedding anniversary of Marlene and Bruce Baker on—I turn to face Lori.
“This is your mom and dad isn’t it?” Lori nods. “And they’ve invited me?” She nods again. Holy crap. Why me? According to the invite it’s being held at the Ocean Breeze Country Club on the bay.
“They said I could invite a few of my closest friends. You will come won’t you? You can bring Guy. His parents will be going too. They’re friends of my parents.”
“Um, yeah. Thanks. Sure. What does it mean ‘black tie’? Surely I don’t have to wear a tie.”
Lori throws back her head and laughs. “You’re so funny. Men wear a tux. Women cocktail dresses. We’ll have to go shopping. What about Saturday?”
Cocktail dress? That will cost hundreds of dollars. I hope Mom and Dad are okay with it. Unless they let me borrow something of Rosie’s. I bet she’s got a cocktail dress or three stashed away. I’ll sneak a peak when I get home later.
“Great. And you reckon Guy will come if I ask him?” Lori nods her head. “How come you didn’t invite him anyway?”
“Mom said I could only invite three friends and whoever they want to bring. So I chose Rachel, Jana and you thinking you’d want to bring Guy. I wanted Jamie for my partner but Mom said no. I think that’s really mean but she was adamant.”
Yay for Lori’s Mom. The thought of an evening with Jamie. No thanks.
“So who are you going to bring, then?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I know who you want to bring,” I whisper in case anyone’s listening. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“No, don’t.” Color floods her cheeks. I seriously think she’s only saying no because she doesn’t want to be let down. But I don’t want to upset her if she really does mean it. I’ll see what Maddie says.
“Well thanks so much for inviting me.” I say brightly. “It’s going to be great.”
“That’s what best friends are for.” Excuse me? Best friends? Since when? She can’t be my best friend. I already have one. And we tell each other everything (almost). I know Lori and I get on well but it’s not like we confide in each other—apart from when we talked about doing it and other stuff, I suppose.
“Yeah.” I laugh. Well I can hardly say sorry but best friend position already taken. Anyway, I can be hers even if she isn’t mine, especially if I don’t tell her. Which is a bit mean. Or a lot mean. Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt her feelings but really, she knows about Maddie. Though she has made the occasional snide remark about her. Mind you, Maddie’s done the same about her, too.
“So you’ll ask Guy?”
“I guess. At break, if he’s around.” And if I dare.
Hopefully he won’t say no. If he does I’ll look a prize dick.
I could always ask Ryan—I can just imagine his face if I ask him to wear a tux and accompany me. It’s almost worth asking just to see his reaction.
Really? I’m doing all I can to prevent him from disclosing my innermost secrets and now I’m thinking of inviting him somewhere all my friends are going to be.
For goodness’ sake Suzy.
Chapter Fifteen
As soon as I get home I charge into the kitchen, drop my bag on the floor mid-flight, and open the connecting door into the garage. I say garage loosely. It’s huge, as in the size of a small aircraft hanger.
Ever since Lori gave me the invitation this morning I’ve been itching for a nose into Rosie’s boxes of clothes. We’re virtually the same size and build so there’s bound to be something really cool I can borrow. I vaguely recall last year seeing photos of her when she went to a rich guy’s party and wore a black clingy dress—very tasteful. It would be perfect, if I can find it.
Rosie’s things are stashed right at the back, which means clambering over years of accumulated trash before I can get to them. Whoever designed the garage as a place for keeping the car clearly doesn’t know our family. The only car in here is Rosie’s, an old mini so doesn’t take up much space, and the rest is family junk. You’d have thought moving might have encouraged us to pare down our belongings. But no. I come from a family of hoarders and unfortunately both Rosie and I inherited the hording gene.
Rosie’s boxes are all sealed with brown parcel tape. Luckily Mom labeled them so I can ignore the ones not containing clothes. Even so, that still leaves about ten for me to look through.
Trembling slightly, from excitement or anxiety I’m not exactly sure, I pull one toward me and begin to carefully pull back the tape. Suddenly I’m hit by a pang of guilt, and I freeze. Should I leave Rosie’s things alone? Mom put them here out of the way for a reason. If she’d wanted me to go through them she’d have said, wouldn’t she? Unless she was so upset at the time she didn’t think to say anything. She packed up all Rosie’s things only a couple of weeks after the accident. It bothered me at the time, it was as if Mom wanted to put Rosie in a box too. So we didn’t keep bumping into her, if you get what I mean. I wanted to say something, but couldn’t bring myself to. Then other events took over and Rosie’s clothes were the last thing on my mind.
If only Rosie could give me a sign. Let me know it’s okay. Maybe the fact Lori gave me the invitation is the sign. Because Rosie knows I’d straightaway come to look at her clothes. Yes, that’s definitely it.
I give the tape one more gentle pull and as the top begins to part the smell of Rosie hits me and I reel backward, scraping my arm down a treadmill keep fit machine Mom bought, and is determined not to give away because she will definitely use it one day, and landing awkwardly on the floor.
My head pounds and I close my eyes. Images of Rosie dance before me. Rosie as a girl, Miss Perfect I remember Dad calling her. Clothes always immaculate, food never daring attach itself to her cheeks, and nothing but a smile on her face. And she didn’t change as she got older. Teenage tantrums weren’t for her—though I more than made up for that. Whenever I’d done one of my famous stomps up the stairs declaring my hatred for everyone, she’d knock on my door, come in and placate me—not that I’ve had a tantrum since I was about fourteen. Well, maybe only the odd one every now and again, when it was something I felt strongly about—like the time Mom and Dad refused to let me go to an all night party held in an old warehouse one New Years Eve.
I clasp my legs and lean forward, resting my head on my knees. Why? What did she ever do—
“Suzy?” My head jerks upward at the sound of Mom’s voice. I must have been in here longer than I thought, she said she wouldn’t be home until after five.
“Over here. At the back” I stretch out my legs in front of me.
“What are you doing?” She sounds cross. A shiver runs down my spine. I can’t face an ear-bashing. Not now. Maybe I should pretend I was doing something else—what exactly I don’t know. Except she’ll see the open box. Unless I can q
uickly push it to one side before she gets here. I glance across at the box and notice all the other boxes are out of place.
“Suzy. Answer me.”
I guess I better tell the truth. Before she starts accusing me of all sorts. Maybe I’m being a bit melodramatic. She trusts me now. At least I think she does.
“Looking through Rosie’s clothes, but—” My words are lost as suddenly a huge lump forms in my throat and all that comes out is a strange choking noise.
From behind me I hear her scrambling over the boxes. When she gets here she drops down and squeezes in next to me. “Suzy, are you okay? Is it Rosie?”
I nod slowly and she wraps me in her arms.
“Mom. Why?” I say my voice all muffled as I bury my head.
“I don’t know love,” she says quietly over the top of my head.
I can feel her shoulders gently bobbing up and down and I know she’s crying. Which sets me off. We stay like this for ages, neither speaking, both absorbed in our own thoughts. Suddenly Mom gently eases me away and she pulls out a couple of tissues from up her sleeve and wipes my eyes with one then her own eyes with the other.
“Thanks,” I say sniffing. “I better put this box back.” I lean over and bring the tape back across the box and start to push it along the floor to where the others are.
“Wait,” Mom says. “What made you want to look at Rosie’s clothes?”
“I wanted something to wear for Lori’s parents’ silver wedding party. I thought Rosie might have something I could borrow. But I think I’ll just buy something, if that’s okay with you.”
“You can do either, love. If Rosie was with us now she’d let you borrow whatever you wanted.” The wistful tone in her voice set me off again and tears spill furiously down my cheeks.
“I know,” I say between sobs. “She was so perfect wasn’t she?” Mom frowns and opens her mouth as if to speak then changes her mind. “What?” I pause for a moment waiting for her to reply but she remains silent. “Mom? What were you going to say?”
“Suzy. As much as I love your sister with all my heart and nothing or no-one could ever replace her. She did have faults. She wasn’t perfect. She was human.” She reaches out and rests her hand on my arm.
“No.” I shake my head. “She was perfect. Dad used to say so. Miss Perfect was what everyone called her, including you.” I don’t get it. Why would she say that about Rosie?
“That was a nickname Suzy, something your dad said in fun when she was a tiny girl. No-one is perfect. Everyone has some failings. Remember the time Dad caught her smoking in the shed at the bottom of the garden?” I shake my head. I’ve never heard that story. “Well he did. And the night she came home drunk and threw up over Dad’s roses?” Well, I do remember that. It was so funny. Dad got really cross. I don’t know why, he could have started a whole new craze with vomit smelling roses. You could send them to people you hate.
“Come on,” she continues. “Let’s get a cup of tea. We can look at the dresses later.” Oh yes, a cup of tea. The answer to everything. Well, it is in our household. Personally it’s times like these when a stiff drink would be of more use. Except bearing in mind my past behavior I don’t think suggesting that would go down too well. Plus Mom and Dad don’t drink, if you don’t count the odd beer and sherry at Christmas.
Mom pulls me up and keeps hold of my hand while we make our way back to the kitchen—which is a mission in itself as it makes it even harder to balance.
My mind’s a mass of thoughts. Rosie was perfect. I don’t care what Mom says. And I know that deep down she believes it as much as I do. And those silly smoking and drinking incidents are so trivial they don’t count.
Chapter Sixteen
“Don’t wait up,” I call into the sitting room after I see Guy pulling up in his car at the bottom of our drive. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?” Dad asks, looking up from reading his newspaper.
“I told you earlier. There’s a local band playing at McGinty’s. We’re all going from school.”
I’m really looking forward to tonight. I haven’t seen a live band in ages. And Guy’s been raving about Twice Bitten ever since I met him. His father’s best friend manages them. Which is how come we got free tickets. According to Guy they’re on the brink of making it big. Just about to sign a recording contract.
“Do you want me to pick you up?” I don’t think so. He means well, but really.
“No thanks, Dad. Guy will bring me home.”
“Well, make sure he doesn’t drink. And if he does phone and I’ll come and get you.”
“Dad. This is Guy we’re talking about. He won’t drink and drive. Anyway, no-one will be drinking they’re really strict at McGinty’s and always check ids.”
“Good.” He returns his gaze to the paper. “Have fun. And don’t be too late.” He suddenly looks up again. “Does your Mom know where you’re going?”
What is it with the twenty questions? I thought we’d moved on from that. I’m only going out with my friends. And I’m going to behave myself. Surely he realizes I’m different now?
“I told her yesterday.” My tone is decidedly sullen and a frown flies across his face. Uh oh. I think I might have overstepped the mark. He’s normally fairly placid, leaves most things for Mom to deal with. Every now and then, though—
“Suzanne.” Told you. He never calls me Suzanne unless he’s getting cross. “I hardly think asking whether your mother knows what you are doing warrants that sort of tone. We’re only concerned about you. Is that such a problem?”
“No. Of course not. I’m sorry Dad.” I go over and give him a hug, which usually does the trick. “Mom’s okay about it. She knows what I’m doing and who I’m with. Don’t worry.” I kiss him on the cheek then walk back toward the door.
“Try telling your mother that,” he mutters, more to himself than me, I think.
Whatever, I can’t hang around or Guy will get cross. He hates bad timekeeping with a passion. I slam the front door behind me and race down the drive. Well, not race exactly as I’m wearing a pair of black heels that are totally crippling me. Not sure how I’m going to dance. I suppose I could always take them off.
***
“Hey,” I say to Lori when we get into McGinty’s.
She’s managed to grab one of the big tables at the back, which is great as it means we have a fab view of the whole place. I slide along the bench and sit next to her.
“Hi,” she says. “Don’t look now but guess who’s at the bar.” My head swings around before I have time to check it. George. I wonder if I can do something tonight?
“Suzy,” Lori shouts—so loudly I spin back in double quick time. “I said don’t look. He’ll know we’re talking about him now.”
“Don’t worry. He didn’t see me. And why would he know? It’s not like he suspects we’re up to anything.” Yet.
“Drink, girls?” Guy asks on his return from chatting with the band’s manager. “Mark will get them for us.”
“Beer for me please,” I say. “Lori?”
“Same. No, make that lemonade. I said I’d share the driving to Mom’s friend’s house tomorrow morning. Mom will freak if she smells beer on me when I get in, and give me one of her you-shouldn’t-be drinking-lectures ending with alcohol-stays-in-the-system-for-over-twelve-hours. Even if I do have only one.” And I thought sometimes I had it bad.
“Have a Vodka-ice. Vodka is smell proof.”
“Is it? I didn’t know.” She pauses a moment. “No. I better not.”
I glance away from Lori and scan the place. McGinty’s is so cool. It’s part of a chain of restaurant bars. This one reminds me of the one Maddie and I used to go to in Dallas, only it’s smaller. But they have the same muted lighting and décor. There’s a small stage at the side near the back door where the band is setting up. Four guys who look decidedly ordinary. Can’t say there’s a hot one amongst them.
“What do you think of
the band?” I ask Lori, nodding toward the stage. “Have you seen them before?”
“They’re okay. They played at Guy’s birthday party last year.”
“That would be so amazing once they’re famous to say they played at your house.” I am suitably impressed. If I’m still going with Guy maybe they’ll play at my eighteenth. Hey, maybe Guy will let me use his house for the party.
“If they become famous.” Lori laughs. “Guy’s told you about the recording contract, I take it?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“They’ve been on the verge of signing one for two years. I think it’s wishful thinking on Guy’s part. He was probably trying to impress you.” Well it worked. I’m so gullible.
“Surely they can’t be that bad if they’re playing here. Look at the place it’s packed. They must have a lot of fans.”
“They have, locally. And really they’re not that bad. Anyway, looks like you won’t have to wait much longer. They’re just about to start. Want to go down to the stage.”
“Sure.” We scramble out from the table and head toward the stage, along with most other people here by the looks of things.
We manage to find a space slightly to the left of the stage which gives us a great view. You know what, they’re not bad. Not sure whether they’re going to be as huge as Guy thinks, but I’m no expert. The drummer’s amazing that’s for sure. I’ve always fancied learning the drums, but Mom wouldn’t let me. I think the couple of years Rosie learned the violin put her off musical instruments forever. I’m not saying Rosie was bad, but in the end Mom made her practice in the garden shed. We all breathed a huge sigh of relief when she decided to have tennis lessons instead. Mom even bought a net for the yard.
“Come with me to the bathroom,” Lori says while the band are taking a break.
I agree and follow as she wends her way through the crowds. When we finally get there the line is huge. I hope she’s not desperate.
“I’ll wait out here for you.” I say.
There’s a red leather sofa close by so I drop down onto it. My feet are hurting so much I’m tempted to take off my shoes, except if I do I’ll never get them back on again. I haven’t seen Guy in ages. I wonder what he’s doing? Probably chatting with the band. I’ll find him once Lori comes back.
