by Judy Blume
Eileen told me this is the best way to try to hear something you’re not supposed to.
It works too! First I heard them laughing. But then they switched on the record player and that was the end of it. All I got was an earful of music. If you ask me, Petey Mansfield can talk when he feels like it.
Debbie says if only I liked Petey we could have a double wedding. Meaning her and Jeff and me and Petey. I told her, “Ha-ha! I wouldn’t marry Petey Mansfield if he was the last boy on earth.” And anyway, I’m not getting married.
My mother is eating again. She goes around the house singing now. I still wonder if she’s in love. I would like to get a look at this Mr. Hague because my mother has gone to his office a few more times, and once when I answered the phone it was him. Last week Val told me that women getting divorces always fall for their lawyers.
Tonight at dinner Mom gave us some big news. “I’m going back to school,” she said.
Amy practically spit out her lima beans. “To school?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “That way I’ll be able to get a better job.”
“A job?” Jeff and I said together.
“Yes.”
“You’re really getting a job?” Jeff asked.
“I hope so,” Mom told him.
“Doing what?” I asked. “Refinishing furniture?”
“No,” Mom said. “That’s what I’d like to do but I have to be more practical right now.”
What kind of job will she get? What can she do? Maybe she’ll be a cashier in the supermarket. Or maybe she’ll be a cocktail waitress. That’s what divorced women on TV always turn out to be—cocktail waitresses. Imagine my mother dressed in a skimpy costume! Suppose Debbie comes over while she’s getting into her waitress clothes. Debbie will say, “Why is your mother dressed up like a Bunny?” And I won’t tell her the truth. I’ll say, “She’s going to a costume party.” Then Debbie will say, “Oh. She looks cute.” But I’ll know that she looks terrible.
“I don’t know what kind of job I’m going to get,” Mom said. “That’s why I’m going back to school. To take a course in typing and shorthand. I’ve signed up for an evening class at Seton Hall too. In English literature. The semester’s half over, but I can still learn a lot.”
“English literature!” Jeff said. “Why?”
“Because I only had one year of college before I got married. I had you when I was just twenty,” she told Jeff. She finished eating her salad. Then she said, “I think I might like to get my degree. I never really had a chance to find out what I might be able to do.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you!” Jeff said. “I can always go and live with Dad.”
My mother’s face turned very red. “Did he tell you that?”
“He said any time I want to I can stay there.” Jeff stood up. “At least he’s not sorry he had us!” He clomped out of the kitchen and slammed the front door.
Mom pushed her chair away from the table. “Jeff is wrong,” she told me and Amy. “You know I’m glad to have you.”
Maybe you are and maybe you’re not. Who can tell any more?
Tuesday, April 6
Can Jeff really move out of our house? That would be awful! Even though I can’t stand him sometimes, I would still miss him a lot. I like just knowing he’s around.
But the next morning Jeff was back and Mom was furious. She threw our breakfast at us. “Where were you last night?” she asked him.
“That’s my business,” Jeff said.
“Just who do you think you’re talking to?” Mom asked. “From now on you’re not to run out at night without telling me first. And I want you home by nine thirty during the week.”
“Says who?” Jeff asked.
“Me!” Mom hollered.
“Since when are you the boss?”
“Jeff … stop it!” Mom said. “What’s gotten into you?”
By the time Jeff left for school my mother was on the verge of tears. But when she saw that he had forgotten his lunch she ran after him calling, “Jeff … Jeff … you forget your lunch.”
He yelled back, “Eat it yourself!”
Wednesday, April 7
I hate Jeff today. He’s making everything worse, just when it was getting better.
Fifteen
I have been trying to get sick. I don’t wear a sweater when I should, and two days ago I walked in the rain without my boots and my feet got soaked. But so far nothing has happened. Debbie once told me about a girl in her cabin at camp who liked to stay overnight in the infirmary. She used to rub the end of the thermometer until it went up to 102°. Then she’d stick it in her mouth and the nurse would think she was really sick.
This morning I tried doing that but it never went above 94°—and I rubbed it for ten whole minutes. So I held the tip of the thermometer next to the light bulb in my desk lamp and it went up to 105°. I figured I’d put it in my mouth and walk downstairs like that. Then my mother would take it out and wouldn’t she be surprised when she saw what a high fever I had!
The only trouble was I didn’t know the thermometer would be so hot. As soon as I put it into my mouth I burned my tongue something awful! I spit the thermometer out. It fell on the floor but it didn’t break.
I will have to think up a better way to get my mother and father back together. I can’t waste my time trying to get sick. That could take forever.
I had my piano lesson right before dinner tonight. Mrs. Lennard told me to cut my nails shorter. She says she can hear a click-click sound when I play. And that from now on Mew can’t sit on top of the piano when I take my lesson. I told her my cat is very musical and that she always sits on top of the piano when I practice.
Actually, Mew is almost human, but I didn’t say so.
Mrs. Lennard looked at me kind of funny. I’ll bet she wishes she was still teaching Jeff and not just me. It’s no secret that he’s the one with the talent. But this year he quit piano. I don’t think I play so bad. It’s just that my fingers don’t always do what I want them to.
Before Mrs. Lennard left she told me to practice the same songs for next week. She said I wasn’t ready for anything new. I felt like asking her how she would play if her parents were getting divorced.
As soon as we sat down to dinner Amy said, “Wendy, my friend in school, has a Talking Jessie Doll. She brought it in for Show and Tell. I want one too. The kind with the hair that grows.”
“Maybe for your birthday,” my mother said.
“My birthday’s not until the end of June,” Amy told her.
“Well, that’s not so far away,” Mom said.
“Oh, please, Mommy! I can’t wait until my birthday!”
“I’m sorry, Amy. But you’ll have to.”
“Why?” Amy asked.
“You know Mom doesn’t have a lot of money to throw around,” I told Amy. “Stop being so selfish.”
“I’ll bet you Daddy would get it for me.”
“That’s enough, Amy!” Mom shouted.
“I hate you.” Amy screamed. “You made Daddy go away just so you could be mean to me!”
My mother reached across the table and smacked Amy. Then she sent her to her room.
“I thought you said there wouldn’t be any more fighting once you and Daddy were apart,” I said.
Jeff laughed and got up from the table.
“Try to understand,” Mom told us. “Won’t you please try to understand?” She put her head down right on her plate and started to cry. She got gravy in her hair.
Thursday, April 15
Sometimes I feel sorry for my mother and other times I hate her. And besides all that, I didn’t laugh once today!
Sixteen
Gary Owens wrote our class a letter. Mrs. Singer found it in her mailbox in the office. It said:
Dear Mrs. Singer and Class 6-108,
Texas is neat. It’s warm enough to play baseball even in the winter. We got a dog. His name is Alexander, like the Great. We call him Al for short. Most of the ki
ds here are okay except for a few. They call me the new kid. Here’s my address in case anybody feels like writing.
Gary Owens
16 Sanders Road
Houston, Texas
Mrs. Singer said we should all write to Gary and that would be our English lesson for the day. I wrote:
Dear Gary,
It must be nice to be where it’s warm. We made Viking dioramas. Did you learn about the Vikings yet? Your dog Al sounds very nice. I still have my cat Mew, but I like dogs too. By now you’re probably not the new kid any more. Well, that’s all the news from here.
Your friend
Karen Newman
(I hope you remember me!)
Mrs. Singer made me copy my letter over because I didn’t make paragraphs. There are a lot of things I would have told Gary, if only he had liked me before he moved away.
Seventeen
My mother got a job! She’s going to be the receptionist at the Global Insurance Company in East Orange. She’ll probably get to bring home a million Day Books next year. She says this is just a stepping stone—something to get her going until she decides what kind of work she wants to do permanently.
Aunt Ruth and Uncle Dan came over tonight.
My mother was in the basement working on an old trunk she picked up at some sale. She’s refinishing it and lining the inside with flowered material. It’s going to be for Amy’s toys, she says. So Aunt Ruth and Uncle Dan went downstairs to see her. So did I. I wanted to hear what my mother had to say because I am almost positive Aunt Ruth doesn’t want her to go to work.
“The children need you at home, Ellie,” Aunt Ruth said.
“They’re in school all day,” Mom told her. “They won’t even know I’m gone. I’m only working from nine to three and Karen will watch Amy until I get home.”
“Except Wednesdays,” I reminded her. “Don’t forget I have Girl Scouts on Wednesdays.”
“Amy can play at Roger’s for half an hour on Wednesdays. I’ll be home by three thirty.”
“Suppose one of them gets sick?” Aunt Ruth asked. “Then what?”
“Mrs. Hedley can come. I’ll make some kind of arrangement with her. Besides, they don’t get sick that often.”
Isn’t that the truth? And I’ve been trying so hard.
“Ellie …” Uncle Dan said. “I wish you’d think this over for a while. Are you sure you can handle the responsibility of running a house and keeping a job?”
“Not to mention the children,” Aunt Ruth added.
“I think I can manage,” Mom said. “At any rate, I’m going to give it a try.”
“What will people at work call you, Mom?” I asked. “Will you be Mrs. Newman or Miss Robinson, like before you were married?”
“I think I’ll call myself Miss Newman. I’m used to being Ellie Newman. After all, that’s who I’ve been for fifteen years.” Mom opened another can of shellac and started painting the trunk.
After Aunt Ruth and Uncle Dan went home I asked Mom, “How come you didn’t give in to Aunt Ruth this time?”
And Mom said, “I don’t always give in to Aunt Ruth.”
“Yes you do.”
“That isn’t so, Karen.”
“Well, I think it is. Every time you go shopping Aunt Ruth tells you what to buy. And when Amy had all those sore throats Aunt Ruth made you go to her doctor.”
“You’re wrong,” Mom said. “I may have listened to Aunt Ruth a lot of times but I don’t always do what she thinks is right. And from now on I’m going to be much more careful to make up my own mind about everything.”
“Mom …”
“Yes?”
“What do you really want to do?”
“I don’t know yet. But I’m going to try to find out.”
My mother is grown up. So how come she can’t decide what she wants? Does she want to go to work or does she want to go to college? “I sure hope you find out soon,” I told her.
“It has nothing to do with you, Karen. It isn’t going to change your life one way or another.”
“That’s what you say!”
“Look … some day you and Jeff and Amy will grow up and leave home. Then what will I have?”
“You see!” I raised my voice. “That proves it! All you care about is yourself! You never think about me.”
“That’s not so and you know it!” Mom said.
“Oh, yes, it is so! You never ask me what I think or what I feel or what I want.… I wish I was never born!”
I ran upstairs, picked up Mew and took her to my room. I closed my door and put a chair up against it.
Pretty soon my mother knocked on the door and called me. I knew she would. “Karen … this is silly. Let me in. I want to talk to you.”
“Go away,” I told her.
I’ll bet anything that Mom will change her mind about her job just like she did about Daddy.
A few days after my mother started her job I had a dental appointment. Mom said from now on she will schedule our appointments later in the day, but just this once Aunt Ruth would pick me up at school and drive me to Dr. Harrison’s.
I am the only one in my family who has never had a cavity. I don’t know if this is because I am a better tooth-brusher or because I was born that way. Whatever the reason, I’m glad.
Dr. Harrison sings while he looks at your teeth. He has a terrible voice. He makes up his own words too. Usually they don’t make much sense but they always rhyme. When he cleans my teeth I laugh. I can’t stand that tickle on my gums. And when I laugh he tells me not to, because I open my mouth too wide.
Today he said that my teeth are in good shape and that I don’t have to come back for another six months. But he gave me a fluoride treatment and I almost threw up. I hate fluoride treatments!
When I was through I told the nurse my mother would call to make my next appointment. Aunt Ruth put away her needlepoint and asked me if I would like to stop for a snack on the way home. I said, “Sure.”
We went to Grunings on the hill. They have the world’s most delicious ice cream. Aunt Ruth ordered a hot-fudge sundae with whipped cream and nuts. I guess she’s off her diet this week. I ordered two scoops of coffee ice cream. I don’t like sundaes. All that goo gets in the way and it makes you very thirsty.
When we were served and I took my first bite of ice cream I remembered that my teeth are very sensitive to cold and hot after a cleaning. The ice cream nearly killed me. I had to mash it all up and then lick it off the spoon so it wouldn’t hurt my teeth.
“How are things going at home?” Aunt Ruth asked.
“Okay, I guess. Next week is Mom’s and Dad’s anniversary.”
“That’s right,” Aunt Ruth said. “I forgot all about it.”
“Are you sending a card?”
“No … when a couple is getting a divorce they don’t want to be reminded of wedding anniversaries.”
I don’t agree with that but I didn’t tell Aunt Ruth. I think if we remind Mom and Dad about their anniversary they will feel very bad about getting a divorce. They will remember how happy they were when they first met and all that. Then they will see how silly it is of them not to get along. “They’ll be married sixteen years,” I told Aunt Ruth.
“That’s right. I remember it very well because Mark had the chicken pox and the wedding was at our house and your grandfather never had chicken pox so the doctor gave him a shot. But two weeks later he got it anyway.”
“Garfa had chicken pox?”
“All over him.” Aunt Ruth laughed a little. “You know … I haven’t thought about that in a long time. Sixteen years ago … Mark was just a little boy and now he’s all grown up.”
“How long have you and Uncle Dan been married?” I asked.
“Twenty-six years.”
“That’s really a long time!”
“Yes, it is.”
“Do you ever fight?”
“Sometimes.”
“But then you make up?”
“Either that
or we forget about it.”
That’s like me and my mother. We have just forgotten about the fight we had the other night. Neither one of us has mentioned it. Why couldn’t she and Daddy have done that? “You know something? I don’t remember my parents fighting when I was little.”
“I suppose they got along better then,” Aunt Ruth said. “It’s only in the last six or seven years that things have been bad.”
“That long?” I couldn’t believe it! How could two people not get along for so many years?
That night I was sitting in the den with Mew on my lap. Her fur shed all over my sweater. I got up to get her brush, then settled on the couch again. She doesn’t always like me to brush her. Sometimes she gets mad and tries to bite the brush. Tonight she purred and let me do whatever I wanted.
Mom and Amy were watching TV. Jeff never sits with us any more, except at mealtime. Amy was snuggled up close to Mom, which is really unusual for her. She always used to do that with Daddy. When I am cuddling Mew I never feel bad that my mother or father is paying attention to someone else.
As I brushed Mew’s fur I started to think about what Aunt Ruth had said—that my parents haven’t gotten along for six or seven years. And that’s when it hit me! If the trouble between Daddy and Mom started that long ago, maybe it had something to do with Amy. That would have been around the time she was born. Maybe they didn’t plan to have her. Maybe they only wanted two kids—me and Jeff. But then when Amy was born, Daddy liked her best. Mom was angry that he picked a favorite and she got back at Daddy by making Jeff her favorite. So really, if Amy hadn’t been born they’d still be very happy.
I wonder if Amy knows about that? Probably not. She is too young to figure out such a thing. If you ask me Val has it all wrong. I might be the middle child, but it looks like I am the only one who is normal. Amy and Jeff have the problems. Poor Amy! No wonder she can’t sleep at night. I am lucky to be no one’s favorite.
Eighteen
On Friday night Mrs. Hedley came and Mom went rushing off to her class at Seton Hall. When Mrs. Hedley opened her knitting bag and pulled out a pile of yarn I left the room. Amy could help her make wool balls tonight! I had more important things to do.
