Heat Wave

by Nancy Thayer

  So, good. Carley liked that about the house, how it provided hiding spots and private nooks for conversation.

  She turned to search out the other boudoir chair, and her foot hit something. She looked down.

  There on the wide old floorboards was an object of heavy glass, so wrong here in this place that for a moment her mind wouldn’t make sense of it. Then she did make sense of it.

  A glass ashtray. Full of cigarette butts.

  Suddenly she was so angry she could have slammed her fist into the wall.

  She and Gus had warned and warned the girls about the connection between smoking and cancer. They watched Thank You for Smoking together on a DVD. Cisco knew better than to smoke!

  And to smoke up here in the attic! She might as well light matches in the middle of a haystack. All this old dry stuff, newspapers, books, photo albums, hats with feathers …

  “Cisco, you idiot!” Her hands shook as she bent down to pick up the ashtray. She wanted to throw it hard against the wall. Instead, she carried it down to the kitchen and plunked it in the middle of the table: Exhibit A. When Cisco got home from school, Carley would have the evidence ready. She needed to decide on a suitable punishment. It really was a serious offense, smoking in the attic! How could Cisco, usually so intelligent, do something so stupid?

  The smoking wasn’t so very awful, Carley decided as she paced the room. All kids tried it sooner or later. It was almost a rite of passage. But to smoke in the attic! She didn’t want Annabel or Russ to find out about this. As much as they adored their granddaughter, they were emotionally, symbolically, personally attached to their houses. They would freak out.

  She couldn’t focus on the tag sale now. She was too upset. She concentrated her energy on routine tasks: laundry, vacuuming, mopping the kitchen floor. She could do all this without thinking, which allowed her mind to rampage around the problem. She needed to find the right way to react to this. It had been a long time since she’d had a real confrontation with Cisco. She could tell that her older daughter was changing—her period had started just last month, and she was beginning to develop breasts, which had Cisco nearly ill with embarrassment. Carley wanted to handle this just right.

  “Hi, Mom!” Cisco banged in through the back door as she always did, dropping her backpack on a kitchen chair and heading directly for the refrigerator. Another issue—diet soda—was an ongoing problem for Carley, who didn’t want to buy the empty calories for her children, but who felt sympathy for Cisco, who begged and pleaded for them. They’d compromised. Cisco could have one a day.

  Cisco’s new friend Polo came in, curvy and smug, exuding a lazy sensuality. Polo had breasts, for sure. Carley told herself she ought to be thankful for Cisco’s new friend—Polo was anything but anorectic.

  Carley stared at them, feeling like a witch with a hairy wart growing on the end of her nose, gnashing her teeth and rubbing her hands together as she prepared to roast a child. Yet her children’s safety was her responsibility and being a parent meant setting limits.

  “Hello, Mrs. Winsted,” Polo purred.

  “Hello, Polo.” Carley was sitting at the head of the table. “Cisco, Polo, sit down. We need to talk.”

  The girls exchanged glances. Cisco handed Polo a can of soda. The girls sat down as far away from Carley as they could get.

  “What’s up?” Cisco asked.

  Carley nodded toward the ashtray in the middle of the table. “That.”

  To her surprise, Polo giggled. That made Cisco’s mouth twitch. The girls shared a brief conspiratorial glance.

  “Oh, Mom,” Cisco said, as if she were bored.

  Cisco’s attitude took Carley’s breath away. How had this happened? How had her daughter changed so enormously without Carley even noticing? And why did this make Carley feel so violently angry?

  She kept her voice cold and in control. “This isn’t some silly little prank, Cisco. You were smoking in the attic. You could have burned the house down.”

  “But we didn’t.” Cisco lowered her lids and slid a look over at Polo, who seemed to be stifling a laugh.

  “No, you didn’t, not that time. But you could have, easily. That attic is a tinderbox, dry and full of old materials. Oh, Cisco, you don’t need me to spell it out, you know it’s dangerous to smoke in the attic. And for heaven’s sake, you shouldn’t even be smoking at all! It’s terrible for your health. Your father and I have warned you about it, and they’ve warned you about it in school, too.”

  Cisco stared steadily at the surface of the kitchen table. Her attention had switched away from Carley. Polo’s hand was on the tabletop. Her index finger was moving in a definite beat. Da da da da da da. Cisco wasn’t looking at Polo, her gaze was fastened to the table, but her index finger began to move in the same beat. Cisco’s mouth curved in a slight smile. Polo didn’t smile, but she looked smug. She looked sly.

  In a flash, Carley understood. The girls were beating out the rhythm of a song by The Ting-Tings, which actually was a song Carley loved to dance to. Shut up and let me go.

  Like prisoners, Cisco and Polo were tapping a message to each other.

  Cisco and Polo against Carley.

  Carley knew her mouth was thin-lipped as she spoke and she hated herself for it. But she knew, rationally, this was the right thing to do. “Since you two girls were the ones smoking together, the most sensible punishment I can see for this is to prevent you from spending any more time together. Cisco, you are not to bring Polo home for a week, and you can’t go to her house for a week. No phone calls between the two of you, either.”

  “Mom!” Cisco erupted from her chair, her face red, her hands clenched at her side. “That’s not fair!”

  “It’s my decision, Cisco, and I’m not changing my mind. It’s obvious that you two think you’re clever and cute with your smoking and your tapping, but smoking is a serious problem and it has to—”

  “I won’t smoke anymore, Mom! I promise! I won’t smoke!” Cisco had tears in her eyes.

  Polo looked bored. She sat very still, rolling her eyes to the ceiling, as if anything there were more interesting than what was in the rest of the room.

  “Polo, perhaps I should phone your mother and explain why I’m imposing this restriction,” Carley said.

  “Go ahead,” Polo countered smugly.

  “Mom, NO!” Cisco was almost screaming.

  “I’m out of here,” Polo said. In one smooth move, she rose, shouldered her backpack, and loped out the kitchen door without another look at Cisco or Carley.

  Cisco watched her friend go with amazement. When she turned to face Carley, her eyes blazed with disgust. “I hate you,” she hissed. “You have no idea how much I hate you.”

  “Cisco, calm d—”

  “You have just ruined my life.”

  “Oh, Cisco, I doubt that—”

  “You know nothing about my life, nothing. You have no idea what you’ve just done. I hate you. I wish I didn’t have to live with you. I wish I never had to see you again.”

  “Cisco, honey—”

  “Don’t touch me!” Cisco ran from the room. She stomped up the stairs and slammed the door, but the noise of Cisco’s furious crying carried through.

  Carley clasped her own hands together to try to stop them from shaking. If only Gus were here to help her make the rules. To help her take the force of Cisco’s fury when Carley enforced the rules. At times like this, she felt alone and hopeless. The loneliness of her adult life would, like a river finding a crack in a dam, break through, flooding her with misery. She went into the living room, intending to curl up on her side on the sofa, just for a moment, just to catch her breath.

  The front door slammed and two little giggling girls skipped in, Margaret and her best friend Molly.

  “We’re going to have tea with our babies,” Margaret informed her mother.

  As fast as Superwoman in a phone booth, Carley transformed herself into a calm and smiling mommy. “Great, girls. Do you want to take som
e juice and cookies up to your room?”

  “Yay!” Margaret jumped up and down, then caught herself and stood quite still. “We’ll be very careful not to spill,” she promised solemnly.

  Carley put together a doll-size picnic basket of cookies and juice in a thermos. She followed the little girls to the bottom of the stairs and waved to them as they went up. Really, she was listening for sounds of Cisco. The wailing had stopped. There was silence. Perhaps Cisco had fallen asleep, exhausted by her emotions. Or perhaps she was talking to Polo on her cell phone. Fine. Carley would phone her own friend.

  “Maud, can you talk?”

  “For a while. I’ve got to get the monsters from The Boys and Girls Club. What’s up?”

  Carley explained about the smoking, the insolence, Cisco’s tantrum.

  “Oh, sweetie, and you have to do this by yourself.” Maud sighed. “My mother used to say to me, ‘Just wait until your father gets home.’ All I can say to my boys is, ‘Just wait till your father gets home—oh, never mind, your father is three thousand miles away and doesn’t give a shit.’ ”

  Carley laughed, and relief flowed through her. “It’s easy for me to fool myself into thinking Cisco and I are friends, equals, and sometimes we really seem to be. Other times, and this is definitely one of them, I’ve got to stand up and be a parent, even if she does hate me.”

  “Tough love is the best kind, especially with the smoking issue. Cisco’s peers are going to be sampling drugs and alcohol pretty soon.”

  “Oh, Maud, don’t even say that. It’s terrifying.”

  “Yeah, but settle down. Cisco’s got ballet. That will keep her steady, give her something to dream about, something to organize her life. I think I’ll register my guys in karate this winter. If anyone can break boards with their bare hands, it’s my two.”

  Carley laughed again, then added more soberly, “Isn’t it hard, making and enforcing rules without another adult to help?”

  “Actually, no. John was so hopeless. His head was always in a book, and when he wasn’t reading, he was reciting poems to himself in his head. Sometimes I was certain he was looking at us and wondering who we were. I do miss being able to go out of the house at night, just to run down to the library or the convenience store. John at least would have protected the boys. I mean, doesn’t your house seem awfully big to you sometimes, in the middle of the night?”

  “Yes,” Carley agreed solemnly. “Yes, it does.”

  “Back to the smoking thing. I think you did exactly what you should have done. Stand firm on this issue, and she’ll get it that you’re going to stand firm on the harder ones down the line—staying out late, drinking, all that.”

  “You’re right, Maud. Thanks.”

  Cisco didn’t speak to Carley at dinner that night. Afterward, she shut herself in her room and when bedtime came, Carley knocked on the door and looked in to find Cisco already tucked in bed and sound asleep. Or pretending to be.

  The next morning Cisco went off to school still in high dudgeon, mouth set, eyes cold, posture stiff. She didn’t hug Carley, but as she went out the door, she said, “I’m going to Nana’s after school. Okay?”

  “That’s fine.” Carley made her voice mild, and smiled at her older daughter, as if everything was good between them.

  That afternoon, Carley’s phone rang.

  “Darling, it’s Annabel. Do you have a moment to talk?”

  Carley was on her knees at the back of the linen closet, digging out all the delicate lace-embroidered tablecloths she hadn’t used in all the years of her marriage. She sat up straight and leaned against the wall. “Of course.”

  “Cisco stopped by on her way home from school. She told me about her and Polo smoking in the attic.”

  “Oh, gosh, Annabel, I should have told you. I—”

  “I really think you’re being too strict with her, Carley. Cutting off communication with her best friend for a week? That seems cruel, especially when her father died only two months ago.”

  “But—but—” Carley sputtered. “I thought you’d be just as upset as I am. Smoking in the attic?”

  “All kids her age try smoking.”

  Reluctantly, Carley agreed. “I suppose. Still, parents have to make it clear that we disapprove. We don’t want it to become a habit.”

  “Don’t be such an alarmist. It’s not going to become a habit.” Carley was speechless.

  Annabel continued, her voice full of warmth and love. “Darling, I’m sure they won’t do it again. I’ve told Cisco that the attic was a stupid, dangerous, place to smoke. She understands. She said she won’t do it again. I promised I’d speak to you. I told her I’d suggest that you consider lightening her punishment. The poor child lost her father. She needs her friends.”

  Carley took a deep breath. Wasn’t it only yesterday that she bemoaned the loss of Gus’s point of view, his opinion of how to raise the girls? Why did she feel so resistant to Annabel’s suggestion? Perhaps because Annabel had sided with Cisco against Carley, because Cisco was Carley’s child, not Annabel’s. Because Annabel was making herself the good guy and Carley the bad guy.

  Annabel obviously believed it was her place to interfere. Hadn’t Annabel and Russell asked Carley to bring the girls and live with them? The hairs stood up on the back of Carley’s neck at the thought of her charming, powerful mother-in-law so silkily, smoothly, relentlessly taking over.

  “Annabel, I appreciate your concern, but this is a matter between Cisco and me. I am quite concerned about her smoking, and very worried that Cisco, who is twelve, would be foolish enough to smoke in the attic. There are times when I need to set limits to stress my rules with Cisco, and this is one of them.” She was glad she wasn’t in the same room with her mother-in-law; her knees were shaking. Always before Gus had been the perfect buffer. Anything he said brought smiles of approval to Annabel’s face.

  “Well.” Annabel cleared her throat. “It seems then I have nothing more to say than that I think you’re making a mistake.” With a faint click, the connection ended.

  Did she just hang up on me? Carley wondered. But she didn’t have time to worry about it. She had too much to do.

  Just before dinner, Cisco came in, hugging her books to her chest, humming to herself.

  “Hi, Mom.” She was all sweetness and smiles as she slipped out of her parka.

  “Hello, darling. Want to wash your hands and call Margaret? I’ve made tacos.”

  “Oh, yum.” Cisco went out of the room, then turned back, as if she’d just remembered something. “Um, did Nana phone you?”

  “She did, yes. We discussed your smoking in the attic. She is much less inclined to discipline you than I am. On the other hand, she’s your grandmother and not responsible for your welfare and safety, not to mention morals. I thanked her for her advice but told her I’m not changing my mind.”

  “Mo-om!” Cisco’s face darkened. “You are such a stick!”

  “Probably,” Carley mildly replied. She set the bowl of chopped tomatoes and shredded cheese on the table. This was one meal Cisco found impossible to resist.

  Cisco’s jaw clenched with anger. “I can’t believe you don’t—honor—Nana!”

  “I do respect and esteem Annabel, of course,” Carley said. “But Cisco, you are my daughter.”

  Cisco stomped from the room, muttering. Carley was sure Cisco said I wish I weren’t.

  10

  • • • • •

  Very early on the morning of the tag sale, Carley woke, jumped out of bed, and pushed open the curtains to check the weather.

  The sun shone down on a bright, clear day. The Weather Channel had predicted temperatures in the forties today, and no precipitation.

  Murmuring prayers of gratitude, she hurriedly pulled on her clothes and rushed down to the kitchen. At seven-thirty, Maud and Vanessa and Toby would arrive to help set up the sale. Until then, Carley could bake one more batch of cookies.

  Cisco came thumping down the stairs, dressed i
n jeans and a red sweater. She headed robotically to the refrigerator, completely ignoring Carley’s presence, took out the orange juice, and poured herself a glass.

  “Sit down and have breakfast with me first, Cisco.” She was worried about how thin Cisco was, but not ready for a fight first thing in the morning.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “We’re going to be busy today. It’s cold out. Our bodies need fuel and we won’t have time to eat. Just some cereal.”

  Cisco hesitated, then slumped into a chair.

  Carley put a bowl of granola and fruit in front of her daughter. She took a bowl for herself. “I’ve got the chart made out. I’m glad we’re so organized. I hear people show up early for these sales, wanting to be the first to get to the good stuff.”

  Cisco couldn’t resist. She was excited about the tag sale. Her friends were coming; strangers were coming, it was going to be like a party. She gobbled her breakfast down, then pushed back her chair. “Shall I go tie the balloons to the mailbox, Mom?”

  As Carley and her friends were carrying out the tables and baby furniture and setting up, they heard the thud of car doors. Clusters of strangers bustled eagerly toward the yard. Toby, large and male and a figure of authority to those who knew him, took on the job of standing at the end of the driveway, warding people off. “Not open until eight o’clock, folks. Let them get set up.”

  For just a moment, before the sale began, Carley looked around the garage and the yard and was seized with a terrible panic. So many beloved or at least familiar objects, lying naked for strangers to touch and take. It was like having the inner life of their family revealed. It was like selling memories.

  Suddenly Maud was at her side, whispering in her ear. “They’re only things, Carley. Life is fluid. You have to let go and move on.”

  Carley threw Maud a grateful glance. “You’re right. Thanks, Maud.”