I Am the Wallpaper

by Mark Peter Hughes

  “Wow, Floey,” she said. “I’m impressed. I guess my baby sister is having herself quite a summer.”

  “I guess so,” I said, happy that she thought so.

  “Wen, Calvin and Dean Eagler?” She shook her head at me, pretending to be shocked. “This won’t do. You’ll have to tone it down or you’ll catch up to me. We can’t have that, now, can we?”

  Actually, I wasn’t worried. I knew I’d never catch up to her.

  Just for a laugh, she leaned over and gave me a bright apricot lipstick kiss on my forehead. “More power to you, kid. Dealing with multiple guys is like juggling. No matter what happens, keep them all up in the air.” Then she made fish lips at me. She thought she was so funny.

  “Do you really think,” I asked her, wiping my face with a tissue, “that you and Helmut will be in love forever?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Of course. What a question.”

  “It’s not so weird. If you look around at the people we know, doesn’t it kind of seem like it’s hard to stay happy for a whole lifetime?”

  “Listen, little girl,” she said, frowning. “You don’t know anything about anything.” She took out her lipstick again, leaned into the mirror and pursed her lips.

  I stared at her, amazed. I had to laugh.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “It’s just that I like your answer. It’s very Zen.”

  She frowned again.

  Frank Sinatra nibbled on my toes while I sat on the front steps. He was acting friendly, but only because he wanted my breakfast. Every now and then I tossed him some of my cereal. The humidity had passed, the sky was bright and cheerful and I only had a few more hours until Aunt Sarah would be gone gone gone.

  Things were looking up. Everything was coming up roses.

  Except not really.

  I hadn’t been able to bring myself even to think about Wen all week, let alone phone him. And in the past few days somebody had called at least seven times and then when I said “Hello” they hung up. I knew it was Azra. On one of the last calls I could hear her mother in the background. I wondered what she wanted. Why didn’t she talk? I even called her once. I’d decided to tell her that I missed her and that we should stay best friends. I got her machine, though. And while I listened to her mother’s voice I found myself thinking about Azra and Wen and how they were probably together right then. Before the machine got to the beep, I hung up.

  I didn’t really want to talk to her anyway.

  I wondered miserably if we would ever be friends again. Or if I still wanted us to be.

  And that’s what I was thinking about when the door opened and I felt a cold, gloomy presence hovering behind me. Aunt Sarah. I didn’t say a word, and neither did she. I went back to eating my cereal. Eventually, she sat down beside me.

  Frank Sinatra ran as far as his harness would take him. Smart ferret.

  “So, what are you eating, kiddo?” she asked. She was obviously trying to start a casual conversation with me, but she sounded uncomfortable. No surprise. What a stupid way to begin. And why pretend we were friends? Why couldn’t she just leave me alone? The woman was a loon.

  I tipped my bowl in her direction so she could see. Then I kept eating.

  “Listen, Floey. I was talking with your mother. She said you worked hard taking care of Richard and Tish. I want to thank you for that.”

  “Mmmm.”

  There’s a Zen saying: When left with nothing to say, rest content in the knowledge that there is really nothing to say.

  “No, I mean it. I really appreciate it. And I hope they didn’t give you and your mother too much trouble while I was gone.”

  Oh, if she only knew.

  After another uncomfortable silence, she blew out a long breath and shifted her weight. I still kept quiet. If she was here to apologize, which she absolutely ought to be, why should I make it easy for her?

  “So anyway,” she continued, “I just want to tell you that I don’t think you’re a delinquent. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

  Blah blah blah.

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me what you think. You can think whatever you want. Okay, so I’m not a delinquent, I’m just some terrible, ungrateful person. I don’t care.”

  “Floey, I don’t think you’re a terrible person.”

  Yeah yeah.

  “Whatever. You have no idea what I’m really like. How could you when you haven’t seen me in years? You don’t know me at all.”

  She stared at me. “I know,” she said finally. “I know.”

  I went back to my cereal.

  “So you think I haven’t been a very good aunt, is that it? Maybe I should have visited more often?”

  I shrugged. What was I supposed to say to that?

  “Floey, you don’t know me, either. We all have our own problems. Your mother knows that airplanes fly in both directions, you know.”

  All right. That was true.

  And then she totally and utterly surprised me.

  “Well, in case you’re interested, I have an idea. The summer isn’t over yet, so why don’t you come and stay with us for a week or so sometime before school starts? I’ll pay for your flight and I’ll show you around Chicago. It’d give us a chance to get to know each other.”

  I nearly fell off the stairs.

  What was she thinking? Why would I want to do that?

  “You don’t have to answer now. Think about it.”

  “Thanks,” I said, amazed. “Only I don’t think I can do it. I … I have a lot going on.”

  “Fine,” she said. “If it doesn’t work out this summer, you have an open invitation. Just let me know.”

  I gaped at her. Could the woman making this suggestion really be my aunt Sarah, the woman who hated me? I had visions of arriving in Chicago and immediately being locked in her basement and tortured.

  She took off her floppy hat and fiddled with the edges. “I guess a training bra is kind of a dumb gift, isn’t it?”

  I studied her face. Was she telling me that she knew it, or was she asking me? Finally, I said, “Yes, it kind of is.”

  One side of her mouth smiled.

  “But you were just trying to be nice,” I said.

  “That’s true. I was.” She fanned herself now with the hat. “I thought I knew something about thirteen-year-old girls, but I guess I only remembered how it was for me. At thirteen I certainly didn’t need a real bra, like you. After all,” she said, “I barely need one now.”

  And then she laughed.

  And I smiled, but just a little.

  Helmut set up chairs and blankets in the field behind our house and we all helped bring out the food. Even before we’d finished setting everything up, Lillian’s friends started to arrive. Rebecca Greenblatt came first, followed by other friends and admirers. God only knew where Lillian had met them all. Some of them I recognized, some I didn’t, but Lillian greeted them all like they were her best friends. Frida and Digger waved to me. Almost everybody brought food. Thankfully, Billy Fishman never showed his face.

  It was a beautiful summer day. For a while, Mrs. Horowitz and I talked about the wedding. Nearby, Helmut was too busy eating to say much to anybody. I wondered if he forgot to eat in Mexico. Admirers crowded around my sister. She looked comfortable and happy and in her element. She was the queen bee, a completely different animal than me.

  I was deep in thought, watching her, when somebody put a hand on my shoulder. “Hiya, Floey. What’s the news?”

  “Oh, hello, Gary,” I said.

  Something over my shoulder caught his eye, so I turned to see. At the other side of the crowd, my mother was talking to somebody in front of the table with the paper plates and plastic cups and utensils. She noticed us and waved. Gary waved back.

  I thought of the Old Naked People. Maybe Lillian was right and I didn’t know anything. One thing I was sure of, though, was that I wanted my mother to have somebody to go skinny-dipping with in
her old age.

  “Keep working on her,” I said to him, taking his hand and walking him over to her. “I’ll start working on her too.”

  He turned bright red.

  Everybody pretty much stopped talking as soon as Lillian began telling stories about her trip. By then, I’d drifted to the back of the crowd, unnoticed again. But this time it was okay—I wanted to sneak away for a while. In the house, I grabbed the two things I’d prepared before the party and put them into a plastic bag. I was going for a bike ride.

  I had some things to do, things I needed to set right.

  First, I pedaled toward the secret beach. Once I turned down the path, I got off my bike and crept up to the little cottage. I carefully slipped a letter into the mailbox.

  To the People Who Used This House for Most of July (Please Forward as Appropriate):

  I’m sorry I disturbed you while you were swimming the other night. Actually, there was one other time, maybe you remember it, and I’m sorry about that too. I won’t do it again. I promise.

  I hope your true love lasts and lasts.

  Sincerely,

  Anonymous

  I got back on my bike and continued.

  With no camp on Saturdays, I figured I might find Azra at home. By the time I reached her house I was feeling pretty anxious. At the end of her driveway I stopped, still straddling my bike.

  Leaning against her garage door was Wen’s bicycle.

  If he was in there too, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to see them. Maybe someday I’d be okay with them being a couple, but not yet. Still, I’d already come all the way over here with Smiley Quahog. I decided to leave him on the front step and then ride away. She’d find him and get the message, but I wouldn’t have to see them together. Not just yet.

  I set my bike down on the lawn and crept up to the front door. I put the little swordsman directly in front of the welcome mat so she wouldn’t miss him. Then I turned and started running back to my bike.

  Before I got halfway down the driveway, I heard the screen door squeak.

  “Thanks,” Azra’s voice called out.

  I turned around. She’d seen me, so there was no point in trying to get away now.

  She picked up the quahog and held it in her hand. “Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

  I didn’t say anything right away. I shrugged. “I don’t know. Does that mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

  She just stood there.

  I felt like running away again.

  But then Wen stepped into view behind her. He looked a little uncomfortable, but at the same time he seemed happy to see me. “Why don’t you come inside?” he said after a moment. “We’re just goofing around.”

  “Can’t.” I took a couple of backward steps toward my bike. Leslie Dern appeared in the doorway then, looking different from how I’d ever seen her. In the emotion of the moment, I didn’t notice why. “I have to go,” I said.

  Nobody said anything else for a few seconds. It was really strange.

  Finally, I said, “Bye.” And then I left.

  A block away, I started to hate myself for leaving. But on the other hand, I was the one who’d biked all the way out there. Azra should have made more of an effort.

  Halfway home I heard another bike racing behind me. It was Wen.

  I stopped for him. “Floey!” he called. “I’d really hate it if we ended up not being friends anymore!”

  I didn’t want to admit it, but I was incredibly happy that he’d followed me. I looked behind him to see if anybody else was coming over the hill. Maybe Azra?

  As soon as he was close enough for us to talk, he stopped. He was a little out of breath. As if he’d read my mind, he shook his head. “Just me.”

  I tried not to look disappointed.

  “Look,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry for causing so much trouble. I never meant to hurt you. Azra didn’t either. Right now I think she’s only acting hurt and angry because she doesn’t know what else to do. I think she’s really more sad than anything else. She wants to fix this, but she doesn’t know how. Me neither.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  He leaned forward on his handlebars. “I … I hope you don’t hate us forever.”

  “I don’t hate you,” I said. “Look, it’s okay. I’ll get over it.”

  “I just want us to be friends, like before.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t think that’s really possible, do you? Everything is kind of different now.”

  He looked so sad. “Different, okay. Maybe not like before. But still friends?”

  I shrugged again. “I guess I’d like that. I don’t know if Azra would, though.”

  “Floey, why don’t you come back with me to the house?”

  “No, I really can’t. Lillian’s home and my cousins are leaving. We’re having a goodbye party and I have to get back to it.” After a few more seconds of staring at each other I couldn’t stand it anymore. “I really have to go,” I said. I hopped back onto the seat of my bike. “Listen, there’s a lot of food. You guys should come on over, if you want. Leslie too.”

  He didn’t say anything at first, but then he said, “I’ll have to work on Azra. Maybe.”

  “Either way,” I said, pedaling off. “It doesn’t matter.”

  As soon as I was out of sight I had to stop. My hands were shaking.

  I’d been gone less than an hour but for once my mother noticed. As soon as I got back she found me. “There you are! I was just looking for you. One minute you were here and the next you were gone. Come back with me. Wait by that tree. I asked Gary to take some pictures.”

  It took her forever to gather my extended family, especially Lillian. My sister loves to have her picture taken but hates to wait. She kept wandering away and gabbing. Eventually, Gary managed to position us around one of the big trees at the side of our field. He put Richard and Tish on one of the two big low branches and Lillian, Helmut and me on the other. In front of the trunk he put my mom and Aunt Sarah.

  I got it. A family tree.

  Richard had brought Frank Sinatra over to Lillian so she could put him in her lap, but when she tried to take him he hissed at her and ran away. By then there was a big crowd in our yard, bigger than at the wedding. Lillian should run for president someday. She’d win. I scanned the heads for Azra or Wen but didn’t see them yet. I craned my neck to see the road, hoping I might catch them when they arrived. If they arrived.

  Which they probably wouldn’t.

  “Hey!” Lillian shrieked. “Floey’s not even looking at the camera! Floey!”

  Suddenly and unexpectedly, I felt a wave of emotion for my sister. She was really leaving home for good. I’d had almost four weeks without her, but it hadn’t really seemed final until now. But now I missed her even though she was right next to me. I wasn’t the only emotional one either. Gary’s eyes were tearing up again.

  I forced myself to smile so he could snap the picture.

  Just then, though, Richard tried to push Tish off the branch, but she kept her balance. She pushed him right back. When he hit the ground, Aunt Sarah and my mother gasped and started yelling at Tish. But Richard wasn’t hurt. I couldn’t help laughing. Tish laughed so hard she snorted.

  That’s when I had another sudden strange realization: when Tish left, I was going to feel sad. I kind of liked the way she followed me around and kept me awake with her stupid, nosy questions. It was kind of like having a little sister.

  Back on his branch, Richard the boy genius crossed his eyes and flared his nostrils at me. Would I miss him, too?

  Probably not.

  Later, I was talking with one of Lillian’s friends when somebody tapped my shoulder.

  “How many Zen masters does it take to screw in a lightbulb?”

  I turned around. Azra looked nervous, but she was holding out Smiley Quahog for me. “None,” I said, grinning. “They’re already enlightened.”

  Over her shoulder, at the
end of the yard, I saw Wen watching us. I wondered if this meant everything was going back to normal again.

  But then I spotted Leslie next to Wen. Finally, I noticed what was different. How could I have missed it before? Her hair had new streaks of color. Violet.

  Then I remembered.

  Normal didn’t mean much anymore.

  chaptereighteen:

  impermanence

  There had already been seven separate toddlers tearing around the waiting room. They’d climbed behind the desk, pulled open the stationery boxes and screamed at their parents and each other. Gary had asked me to cover the reception area. Sunday morning is always a busy time for family portraits, especially families with small children.

  It was my job to be pleasant.

  Now, two little kids waiting with their tired-looking father were throwing their shoes at each other and shrieking. I was standing behind the desk, using it as a shield.

  Another hour to go and my nerves were already shattered.

  That’s when I noticed Calvin standing outside. He was peering through the window, his cowboy hat touching the glass. When he saw me notice him, he grinned.

  I’d been thinking about him a lot, wondering if he was ever going to write to me again, maybe even send me more of his poems. I’d searched the mail every day, hoping to find an envelope with his name on it. Now here he was, walking through the door and up to the desk.

  I wished I were wearing something nicer.

  “Floey, is that you?” he said slowly, staring at my head. “Wow.”

  “I know, I know,” I said, ready for the comments. “I look like a giant grape Popsicle, right?” I’d been considering dying it brown again, but that morning I’d decided to keep it violet for now. Not because it made me stand out—I didn’t care about that as much anymore. I just liked it.

  He smiled. “No. I think it looks great, I really do.”