Breaking the Seventh

by Allie Gail

  Well, there you go. I might have known she couldn’t find it in herself to pay me a compliment without stopping to highlight my shortcomings. Nothing I ever do is good enough for her. I think I could be awarded a Nobel Peace Prize and she would want to know why I didn’t get a Pulitzer as well.

  “I know I’m not a boy,” I mutter. What a silly thing to say! Just because I’d rather ride my bike than sit around in a dress hosting tea parties for a bunch of dolls…what’s wrong with that? A few skinned knees and scraped elbows don’t make me any less a girl.

  Ignoring my comment, Mom picks up the overnight bag I dropped on the floor and steers me toward a door I hadn’t even noticed was there. “Well, let’s get you situated and then we can all go eat. I’m getting hungry, how about you? You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

  I shake my head as she opens the door and pushes it open to reveal another bedroom.

  “It’s a suite,” she explains, gesturing inside. “See, you’ll have your very own room in here. Plenty of privacy. Your own TV and everything, just like at home.”

  I want to ask her where she is sleeping, since there is only one bed in each room. But I think I know and right now I’d rather not have it confirmed. The very idea makes me want to blow chunks all over her boyfriend’s dorky leather sandals.

  “Does Dad know about Retardo?” The words pop out of my mouth before I can stop them. Sure, I know I’m pushing my limits, but something about insulting the man gives me a small measure of satisfaction.

  Her eyes narrow icily. “It’s Renaldo, Leah. Don’t be a smart aleck.”

  “Well…d-does he?”

  Instead of answering the question, she gets all flustered and changes the subject. “What’s the matter with you? Did you leave your manners at home? Now go wash your hands and brush your hair. It looks like a rat’s nest. And put on a clean shirt – that one has something all over it. What is that, ketchup?”

  I look down at my Mickey Mouse t-shirt. There is a small stain on it, but I didn’t think it was all that noticeable. “No. I had chili cheese fries for breakfast.”

  “Figures.” She drops my bag on the neatly made bed and unzips it, rooting around inside until she finds a ruffled pink and yellow top with an eyelet collar. “Here. Put this on. And listen, I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight, is that understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I try my best to make myself presentable. But if I think the evening’s going to improve any, I’m wrong. Things only go from bad to worse and then even worse than that.

  The restaurant we go to is nice and the food looks good, but I can’t enjoy it. Mom won’t even let me order what I want. I want fried shrimp, but she says fried food is fattening and I should get something grilled instead. What do I care if it’s fattening – everyone is always telling me I am too skinny!

  After that I become the invisible girl. It’s like I’m not even here. Mom doesn’t even sit beside me. She sits by him on the opposite side of the booth, and I think it’s just so they can rub all over one another and play footsy under the table. Can’t they keep their clammy paws off one another for five minutes? Those two are making me sick!

  I don’t think it’s going to matter that I am eating grilled seafood instead of fried. It all looks the same coming up.

  “We should pick up something for Gabriela while we’re in town,” Mom is saying. “A cute little purse or something. I think she would like that. Maybe we could go to the outlet mall tomorrow. How’s that sound to you?”

  I feel my stomach muscles clench, and I poke miserably at the steamed vegetables on my plate. She didn’t bring me anything from Lisbon, but she wants to get this girl I’ve never heard of a present? Why is this Gabriela person so special? Just because she’s his kid. I didn’t even get anything for my birthday, unless you count getting ditched!

  “We should get something for you,” Renaldo murmurs to her with a sleazy grin. “Something from that Victoria’s Secret store you like so much.”

  “I think you like it more than I do!”

  Gag me – did I just hear my mother giggle? I think I really am going to throw up. I almost wish I would. Maybe if they thought I was sick, they’d take me home. Or call Daddy to come get me.

  “I cannot help myself, minha flor. I love to see you wearing lace and ribbons…”

  “Oh, stop it. You’re an animal, you know that?”

  “I think you like the animal in me. As a matter of fact, I am certain of it.”

  “You’re so bad! What am I going to do with you?”

  “I can think of a few things you can do, my pretty one...”

  Gulping down some tea, I nearly choke on a piece of ice when he says that. Do they think I am deaf? Or that I’m not old enough to comprehend innuendo?

  As if suddenly noticing me, Mom clears her throat and says, “Don’t drink your tea so fast, Leah. It isn’t a race to see who finishes first.”

  Well, nice to know she finally remembered I am here.

  Across the table, Renaldo hides a smile behind his napkin. I wonder what he finds so funny. Does it entertain him to see how uncomfortable he can make me? Ugh, he makes my skin crawl! How could Mom leave my handsome father for someone so shifty? This man reminds me of a snake, and I don’t like snakes.

  “Stop playing with your vegetables and finish them,” Mom prompts me.

  “I thought you said it wasn’t a race.”

  Her eyes narrow threateningly. “I didn’t say inhale them. I said finish them. You need to eat something besides junk food.”

  “I don’t just eat junk food. Dad fixes broccoli sometimes.”

  “Hm. Drenched in cheese sauce, no doubt.”

  “It’s still a vegetable,” I point out.

  “Don’t argue with me, Leah. Just finish the vegetables.”

  “They’re slimy.” Giving her Portuguese plaything a meaningful look, I add, “I don’t like slimy things.”

  In a tight-lipped voice, Mom warns me, “If you want to go to Destin with us tomorrow, I suggest you tone down the sass. You’re not impressing anyone.”

  “What I wanted was to go to Sea World with y-you and Dad!” I remind her irritably. “I don’t w-want to go anywhere with Retardo!”

  Her mouth drops open, and the brown eyes that look so much like mine begin to blaze with disbelief and fury. “Leah Marie Whitfield – you know better than that! What on earth has gotten into you? You ought to be ashamed! Now I think you owe Mr. Madeira an apology, and I expect to hear it right this minute, young lady!”

  “Fine. I’m sorry.” I cross my arms and glare at him defiantly. “I’m sorry you have a s-stupid name and your cheap cologne is stinking up the p-place and giving me a headache!”

  Mom gasps. “Leah!”

  “Ellen!” I have never in my life called my mother by her first name, and I know that I am going to be in a world of trouble for talking to her this way, but right now I am so angry I have no control over what’s coming out of my mouth. I’m shaking all over, I’m so mad. Why is she doing this? Everything was perfectly fine and then one day she just decides, hey, why not ruin my daughter’s life? Not to mention my dad’s!

  Looking uncomfortable, Renaldo stands up, mumbling, “Ah…perhaps I should go pay the check.”

  “P-perhaps you should go back to Lisbon!” I yell, not caring if anyone hears. This guy is a pervert – why can’t my mom see it? I’m only ten and I can see it as plain as day!

  “That’s it.” Snatching the linen napkin from her lap and throwing it on the table, my mother grabs me by the arm and jerks me up. She is squeezing so hard I’m sure I will have a bruise there tomorrow. “Let’s go. I’ve had enough of this. Your father may be letting you run wild, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to put up with this kind of nonsense.”

  Sulking, I stumble along as she drags me outside into the parking lot. She’s walking so fast I almost have to run to keep up with her.
Boy, is she mad! I’ve never seen her this pissed off before. Not even that time I filled the microwave with marshmallows just to see what would happen.

  And some deep-down, mean-spirited part of me is glad. I’m glad she’s ticked off. Glad her scummy boyfriend knows that I think he’s gross. Glad her evening was spoiled. Now maybe she knows how it feels!

  As I’m getting in the back seat of the Tucson, she leans in to point a finger at me and say, “I don’t want to hear another word out of you! Not one word. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life – how dare you act this way in public! Who taught you to be so disrespectful? No, don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear it. Just keep your smart mouth shut. I am done with you, do you understand? Done!”

  The ride back to the hotel only takes ten minutes but it seems like forever. The atmosphere is charged with awkward tension. They ignore me the whole way there, only talking to one another occasionally in quiet voices. That’s fine with me. I don’t want to hear anything they have to say. And I definitely don’t want to talk to them!

  Once we’re back in the hotel room, I immediately storm into the other bedroom and slam the door behind me. I wish there was a lock on it, but there isn’t. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised – nothing else is going my way, is it?

  I kick off my shoes and stretch out on top of the bed, linking my fingers behind my head, gazing up at the ceiling without really seeing it. My stomach hurts. I barely ate any of my dinner so I know it wasn’t the food. It’s my nerves. I’ve had a lot of stomachaches over the last month, thanks to my mother.

  She comes in about an hour later, after she’s had a chance to cool down some, I assume. But she isn’t ready to call a truce, or even to hear my side of it. I wish she would just talk to me. That’s all I want. For her to open up and explain to me what’s going on, rather than trying to put up some ridiculous act like everything’s fine and normal. Because it isn’t, and she will never be able to convince me that it is.

  Instead, she just crosses her arms and proceeds with the usual lecture on what a disappointment I am to her.

  “I hope you realize how selfish you’re being, Leah. Selfish and inconsiderate and unbelievably rude. The world doesn’t revolve around you, just so you know. There are other people to consider. It’s time for you to grow up and realize that. Now I want you to think about that tonight, and hopefully in the morning you’ll be ready to apologize and make an adjustment to your surly little attitude. Because I can tell you this – I am not putting up with that kind of childish behavior from you. I am your mother and I deserve a little respect. I don’t deserve this!”

  Ignoring her, I turn over on my side to face the wall. I am relieved when I hear the door close, knowing that she has left me alone. I could almost laugh at her self-pitying, poor-me spiel. She doesn’t deserve this? What about me, I’d like to know! Do I deserve this?

  I feel like crying, but somehow I can’t. The tears don’t come. It’s like I’m empty and all dried up inside. I don’t move. I don’t undress for bed. I don’t turn on the TV. I don’t do anything.

  I just lay there for hours, staring at the wall, trying to make sense of my life.

  But I don’t have much luck with that. And all I really want right now is to go home. So sometime very late in the night, I grab my bag and very quietly slip out. Mom and Renaldo are sound asleep in the next room, curled up in bed with their arms around one another, and the sight makes my chest hurt.

  That should be my father beside her.

  But it isn’t, and it never will be again.

  For once, luck is on my side. They don’t wake up when I steal quietly out of the hotel room and take the elevator down to the lobby.

  My heart is pounding the whole way. I keep expecting someone to suddenly jump out of the shadows, point at me and yell STOP, but it doesn’t happen. The hotel is pretty much deserted this time of night. There is only one woman at the front desk, and she has her nose buried in a book and doesn’t notice me. For once, I am glad. Maybe being the invisible girl has its benefits.

  Once I am outside, I start walking along the side of the road in the direction of home, silently praying that I don’t get picked up by a cop. Or worse, some random serial killer out for a midnight drive, looking for someone to slice up into people jerky. Every time a set of headlights flashes past me, I cringe. But there is no use trying to crouch down and hide – there are too many cars passing by to do that. I’d never get anywhere.

  The grass is knee-high and wet and it’s so dark out I can’t tell what disgusting things I might be stepping on. I try not to think about poisonous snakes and bulbous hairy spiders. It’s easier than I would have thought. I’m not afraid. Not really. I am driven with a determination that surpasses my fear of the dark and whatever creepy, crawly things may be lurking in it.

  But after what seems like hours of walking, my feet are soaking wet and squishy, my bag is getting heavy and I am tired and I don’t even think I’ve made that much progress. So when I see an all-night diner, I stand outside for a full ten minutes before finally making the decision to go inside. I slip into a booth, trying to come up with a plausible excuse for why I’m there alone in case anyone asks.

  There is only one other customer, a gray-haired man who is sitting several tables away with his back to me, reading a newspaper while he drinks his coffee. He doesn’t pay me any attention. As far as I can tell, there is only one waitress working. She is a middle-aged woman with freckles, reddish-blonde curls and a friendly smile.

  I try to play it cool as she comes over and places a menu in front of me.

  “Out kinda late tonight, aren’t ya, sugar?” Her turquoise eyes are twinkling, and I think she seems really nice.

  “We’re on vacation,” I tell her, feeling guilty for lying. “You know, just passing through. We’re on our way to Sea World.”

  “Is that right? Sea World, huh. Sounds like a lot more fun than I’m having in this boring ol’ place. Got room for one more?”

  I smile back at her, but I can’t help noticing that her eyes are scanning the parking lot as if she’s checking to see who else is with me.

  “My dad’s outside in the car,” I volunteer. “He’s on a very important phone call but he said he’d meet me in here when he’s done.” I figure I’ll just rest here for a little while and then leave before anyone gets suspicious.

  The woman’s gaze returns to me and hovers over the bag that’s resting by my side. I can’t tell whether or not she believes my story, but all she says is, “I see. Well, would you like to go ahead and order something? No telling how long he’ll take.”

  Embarrassed because I know I don’t have any money, I stare down at my folded hands. “Do you think I could maybe just have a glass of water while I wait?”

  “Of course, honey. Gimme just a minute.”

  I watch as she disappears into the kitchen. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but it seems like she takes longer than necessary just for a glass of water. I decide that if I see a police car pull up, I am going to run through the kitchen and find a back door to make my escape. If anyone thinks they can make me go back to that hotel, they’re crazy!

  Tense and suspicious, I practically jump out of my skin when the waitress bursts through the swinging kitchen doors with a glass of ice water in one hand.

  “There you go,” she chirps as she sets it on the table in front of me. “One complimentary glass of ice cold water. You just give me a shout if you want anything else, okay? My name is Penny. So all you gotta do is holler ‘Yo, Penny’ and I’m bound by duty to be at your beck and call.”

  “Thank you.” Glancing up at her, I hesitantly add, “Penny.”

  “You’re welcome, sugar.”

  I expect her to head back into the kitchen, but instead she goes over and sits at the booth with the gray-haired man. They talk for a while in quiet voices before she gets up and goes back into the kitchen. A few minutes later she comes back out with some food and sets it in front of him. Then, with a smi
le and a wink at me, she disappears into the back again.

  Sipping my water, I pick up the menu and start reading it just for something to do. But all it does is make my stomach growl, reminding me that I didn’t eat my dinner. I’m digging through a side pocket in my overnight bag, hoping to find a stray piece of gum, when I am startled by a deep voice beside me.

  “You care if I grab some of your napkins? Ain’t none on my table.”

  Trying to avoid looking at the man, I duck my head and mumble, “No, sir. Help yourself.”

  He slides into the booth across from me and reaches over to pull some napkins out of the dispenser. “That Penny. I tell you what, she’s a nice gal and all, but if you ask me she’s about the worst waitress I ever did see.”

  Surprised by his complaint, I lift my head to stare at him. The man’s face is weathered and worn and though he still has a thick mane of hair, it’s almost white. But his pale blue eyes, even with the crinkles around them, seem oddly younger than the rest of him.

  His mustache twitches as he huffs a sigh of disgust and plops a glass dish on the table. “You know, I been comin’ here for months and that dadburn woman never once gets my order right. Never! Look at this. What’s this look like to you?”

  I check out the dish in front of him curiously. “A banana split.”

  He claps his hands together before raising them to the heavens. “Thank you! A banana split. Why, anyone can see that. Anyone with half a brain, that is. You know what I ordered?”

  Fascinated, I shake my head.

  “Plain vanilla ice cream. That’s all. Now how hard is that? You reckon this looks anything like plain vanilla ice cream?”

  I shake my head again.

  “Look at this monstrosity. All drownin’ in chocolate fudge and strawberries and whipped cream…you’d think she was deliberately tryin’ to make my ulcer flare up. Sometimes I wonder if she’s hopin’ to kill me. Or maybe she’s got stock in Pepto-Bismol. What do you think?”

  I hitch my shoulders, baffled.

  “Well, I hate to complain and get Penny in trouble. Wouldn’t wanna see her get fired. I don’t like to waste perfectly good food, though. Reckon you might wanna help me out with this thing so I don’t wind up with a killer stomachache?”