“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, though I knew that his look carried something with it.
“You want lemonade?” I asked.
He kept staring into the street. I stood up.
“I could use a beer,” I said.
Lars had asked me not to serve Joshua alcohol so long as he was under house arrest, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t indulge, even if it was mostly for show. As I opened the screen door, Joshua buried his head in his hands again.
“Fuck me,” he muttered. And then louder, like he was really angry, he yelled it. “Fuck me!”
“Hey,” I said to him, walking back near. “About the swearing. You can’t be doing that. You can’t be swearing like that around the house.”
He turned to me. “What?” But I could tell he had heard me, because he sounded fed up. I suddenly got all nervous.
“It’s just…you can’t…you shouldn’t…not around the house.”
Joshua looked like he didn’t know where to begin. “People swear in prison,” he finally said.
“On account of Beau Ray,” I explained. I told him how Beau Ray had this bad habit—more annoying than bad, I guess—of mimicking. Especially with swear words. “We’ve all trained ourselves not to,” I told him.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks,” I said, and went to get my beer. From behind the screen door, I heard Joshua again.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered.
The house was quiet that night, but I didn’t sleep well. Joshua’s door was closed, and Momma had closed hers, too. As I padded down the hall, ready to crawl into bed, I wondered what Momma was really thinking. She’d been fairly closemouthed on the subject of Joshua up to then. All I knew was that she saw his house arrest as an extension of my fan club duties, as if Joshua were a hobby of mine I had to keep neat and in the right place, like the plastic horses I’d collected when I was little. She’d already told me that I’d be the one driving him to AA. I would also be the one to buy groceries and whatever else he might demand. That night, Momma had gone to bed before dinner, saying that she was tuckered and had a big day ahead. I wondered if it hadn’t been the arraignment and being civil to Judy and Lars and worrying over Beau Ray. Or maybe it was just having someone in Vince’s room after all that time.
I had always slept with my door open. When I was younger, it was so I could look into Vince’s room and see his feet sticking up under the covers and know that he would hear anything awful or scary and could rush to my side in seconds. Not that anything awful or scary ever happened—not that he could prevent at least. And after Vince left, I’d kept my door open so that I would be able to see if he came back in the night. And years after that, it was habit. But that night, that first night with Joshua, I’d closed my door, and with all the doors upstairs closed, it felt like a different house. Like my family wasn’t my own anymore. I wondered if we’d made a mistake.
Often when I couldn’t sleep, I called Sandy late at night. But that night, she was with her family at the beach—would be for the next week, too—and I was afraid I’d wake everyone. Sometimes when I couldn’t sleep, I’d sit on the porch and listen to the crickets. But closing my door seemed so final, and I didn’t want to take a chance on running into Joshua while I was in nightclothes. So I stared at the ceiling and wondered how long ninety days would last. Start slow, I told myself.
I’ve been an early riser since forever—or at least since my teens. Usually I’m up around six. I don’t know where it comes from, since no one else in my family gets up so early. Beau Ray had long been one of those guys who’d sleep until noon in a bright room. And Momma was more of an eight o’clock riser—earlyish, but not early. But me, I’ve never even had to set an alarm. I could always tell myself “get up at five forty-five” or “get up at six-fifteen” and my body would obey (although daylight saving time would have me off-kilter for a couple days). So even though I didn’t sleep well, I still woke up by six-thirty that first morning after Joshua moved in.
I got up, got dressed and took Momma’s station wagon to SpeedLube for an oil change, and then I drove into Charles Town and it was still but seven forty-five. I had a key that got me into the county clerk’s office, no matter what the time, and I went to my desk and organized my things like I’d meant to do the day before, except the arraignment had gone longer than I’d figured. For the next eighty-nine days, I was only going to be working half-time, since it turned out that we would be getting paid for taking care of Joshua.
I hadn’t been thinking anything about money, I’d swear on Susan’s fancy Bible, when I offered up Vince’s room. Heck, I hadn’t even known it the day Momma signed the guardianship papers, though I think Momma might have. Momma had told me that Judy and Lars were fixing to pay her $200 a day for the use of Vince’s room and meals and laundry and not killing him (that last part being a joke). Judy said that it was like paying for a hotel, which they would have been doing had there been such thing as hotel arrest. Judy even asked Judge Weintraub whether he thought that was fair, and he said he didn’t see anything wrong with it.
Two hundred dollars a day was a lot more than I was making at the county clerk’s office. It was probably more than what Momma and I together brought home. And Momma said that if we were getting paid like that to take care of Joshua, we sure as hell better take care of Joshua, which meant she wanted me to be around more.
This is the way Momma would talk: “Leanne, I’m wanting you to stick around the house more this summer.” It sounds polite and all, but if I’d ever said no, all of that niceness would be gone and she’d start in with how ungrateful I was and didn’t I see how hard it had been for her, and I’d end up doing what she wanted anyway. I knew it, and she knew I knew it. But it still irked me because I also knew that it was awful convenient that Beau Ray would be watched over at the same time. And that screwed me, since summer was when Momma usually did more watching so I could take my extension courses. It’s like she had forgotten that I was the one she’d pushed to think about college, well, me and Vince. I remember wondering whether Vince had found his way to college, wherever he was, as I straightened my desk in case Mr. Bellevue assigned someone else to sit there on Mondays, Thursdays and Friday afternoons.
I saw that Mr. Bellevue had left a note for me.
Leanne, it read, I’m terribly excited for you!!! Enjoy this experience—but of course you’ll have to tell me everything! I’m sure it will be unique and memorable!!
By his use of exclamation points, I had to assume that Mr. Bellevue meant memorable in a good way. But President Kennedy’s assassination was memorable, too. And the space shuttle coming down in flames. And my dad dying, even that was memorable on a smaller scale.
Of course, I hoped the summer would be memorable in a good way. For heaven’s sake, Joshua Reed was going to be living in my house! He was there even as I folded up the note. He was there even as I walked out of the county clerk’s office. I wondered if he’d sleep late. I wondered what he’d want to do on his first full day under our roof. I had no doubt that after a good night’s sleep, he’d have relaxed some and feel more himself. Maybe I’d suggest that we rent a few movies. Maybe he’d let me listen to him practice his Musket Fire lines.
With the first, awkward night behind us, I felt hopeful. Ninety days was ample time to get to know someone. Sandy and I hadn’t needed a month to become fast friends when we’d met in the third grade. At the end of ninety days, Joshua and I might well be inseparable. We might have private jokes. We might realize that we both hate runny eggs and love Mounds bars. Maybe he’d introduce me to some of his friends—on the phone or if ever a few of them decided to fly in and surprise him for a weekend.
I knew that Joshua and I already had things in common. Like the fact that we’d both excelled in English in high school. And that we were both allergic to cats. And like me, he’d grown up in a small town, even farther from a big city than we were in Pinecob. Although he’d sur
e made it clear that he preferred city living.
In the parking lot, my keys fit in the car lock the same as usual. The steering wheel felt in my hands like it always did, as I spun it away from the municipal building. The road beneath the tires was smooth where I expected smooth, and the stoplight by the post office shone red, then green, as always. But back at my house, Joshua Reed was sleeping between the same sheets I sometimes slept between. How crazy was that? It felt like remembering a dream, the sense of everything just a step beyond belief. My house, but not my house. The feel of life, but not quite. Joshua Reed, movie star, was sleeping between my sheets.
I knew that a lot of women would have killed—or at least scratched and bit—for the chance to take my place. Back when I was sixteen or seventeen, I might have done the same. But at twenty-five, I wasn’t holding on to the crazy fantasies I’d harbored in my teens. And besides, I knew that Joshua was dating Elise, the Belgian supermodel with aqua eyes.
I looked into the rearview mirror. My eyes were as brown as ever. And anyway, I’ve always been one to respect an existing relationship. I don’t know what the feminine equivalent of chivalry is, but maybe you’d call it that. Sandy, on the other hand, would probably call it me not having the gumption to hold my hand out for what I wanted. But I knew what it felt like, someone moving in on your boyfriend when you’re not around. The same thing had happened to me with Howard Malkin. I wasn’t going to be like that.
It was around eight-thirty in the morning when I got back home, and Momma was making blueberry cottage cheese pancakes, which sounds weird, but they’re the best pancakes ever. She almost never made them, so it must have been Joshua who brought out the act. She told me to get Beau Ray up and to offer Joshua more coffee.
“Judy said we shouldn’t be catering to him,” I told her.
“Judy’s not here,” Momma said. “And Judy don’t make the rules in this house, so git.”
I’d bought a Charles Town Register on my way home, and I dropped it on the dining room table as I passed. Joshua looked up at me.
“Hey sleepyhead,” I said, at the door of Beau Ray’s room. I was glad to see that Beau Ray, at least, had slept with his door wide open. His closet door was open, too, and a huge pile of clothes and books and sporting equipment spilled out onto his floor. “Momma’s making pancakes,” I said. “You don’t want to miss pancakes.”
Beau Ray turned over. “Pancakes?” he asked and started to sit up.
“Blueberry. Come soon,” I said.
Beau Ray followed me into the dining room. He took a seat across from Joshua and smiled at him. Joshua looked up from the paper.
“Morning, Beau Ray,” he said.
“Morning, cool man Joshua Reed,” Beau Ray said. “Fuck me.”
“Beau Ray!” I snapped.
Joshua seemed surprised, then amused.
“Beau Ray, you know we don’t say that,” I said.
“Fuck me! Fuck me!” Beau Ray said. Joshua started laughing.
“It’s not funny,” I told him, but Beau Ray looked so pleased with himself and with Joshua that I found myself fighting a grin.
“Shh,” Joshua said to Beau Ray. “We don’t want your mother to hear.”
“Shh,” Beau Ray said back, nodding and winking.
Momma brought a plate of pancakes to the table. “Who’s ready for the first round?” she asked. “Morning, angel,” she said to Beau Ray. She kissed him on the head.
Beau Ray was already poking at the pancakes with a fork. “Yum. Pancakes,” Beau Ray said. “Fuck me!”
Joshua and I went silent.
Momma turned to me. “Leanne,” she said, frowning.
I shrugged and turned to Joshua, who started to laugh.
Momma looked pissed. “It’s not funny,” she said to him. “I don’t know how you live your life out there in California, but here, in this house, we don’t use bad language.”
“Fuck me,” Beau Ray said. “Cool man don’t use bads.” He giggled.
“See what I mean?” I told Joshua, who was still laughing.
“It’s not funny,” Momma said again, even angrier.
“I know,” Joshua said. But he wasn’t doing a very good job of looking sorry. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. It won’t happen again.”
“Joshua Reed say sorry,” Beau Ray said.
“I am sorry,” Joshua said to my mother.
He had found his focus and was wearing his apologetic look. I guess Joshua Reed always played guys who messed up, because I swear I’d seen that same look in every one of his movies. His eyes were wide open and sad, and his chin was tilted down, so that he was looking up at Momma through his lashes. After he spoke, his lips stayed slightly open, and the effect was a much younger, more innocent Joshua Reed. I couldn’t look away. It was a complete transformation. I don’t know whether Momma bought it, but she shook her head and left the room. Once she was gone, Joshua’s face returned to normal—or to the sour version of normal he’d worn from the moment he’d walked into our house. He took a bite of pancakes and turned back to the paper.
“I want to ask you,” Joshua said. Breakfast was over. Beau Ray had gone to take a shower, and Momma had left for work. “What’s the deal with the TV?”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. “Is there something wrong?”
“Well, I couldn’t figure it out. Where’s the cable box? How does it work?”
I cringed. I’d forgotten to mention it, because it had never been a big deal before. But I had a feeling that it was about to become one.
“We don’t have cable,” I told him. “It hasn’t come up the road yet.”
Joshua blinked at me. “You’re kidding,” he finally said. “You’re not kidding?”
I shook my head. “There’s cable in Charles Town—but that doesn’t help you,” I said.
“You can’t get cable? Who can’t get cable?” Joshua seemed confused. “Then what about satellite? You could get a dish. Satellite.”
I shrugged. Sandy’s parents’ new house in Charles Town had cable, so I’d always gone there if I wanted to watch something that didn’t come in on one of our five stations.
“Maybe,” I told him. “Momma has this thing about TV. You’ll have to ask her.” I left it at that.
“Jesus. You live in the absolute sticks,” Joshua said. He sounded amazed, but not in a good way.
“You act like someone told you Pinecob was a big city,” I said. “No one told you that. I know I didn’t tell you that. Besides, you know what a small town is like. You grew up in Rackett, Texas. Population three thousand.” I knew this from his fan club biography.
“Don’t talk to me about Rackett. I left that rat hole as soon as I could,” Joshua said.
I swallowed hard. “Some of us haven’t had that luxury,” I said. I hated that I felt so shaky.
Joshua looked around the empty room, then calmly back at me. He didn’t look at all ruffled.
“Apparently everyone else had the good sense to leave,” he said. “I’m going to call about getting satellite TV.” He left the room. Me, I left the house and didn’t come back again until after dinner, if only because I could.
When I came back—I would have caught hell from Momma had I stayed out any later—Joshua was up in Vince’s room, reading one of the ten scripts Lars had left with him. I walked down the hallway and saw Joshua glance at me before he kicked his door closed. Momma was in her bedroom, lining up square after square of calico cotton.
“We’re not getting no satellite TV,” she told me, before I could say a thing.
“Okay,” I said.
“Joshua asked, but I just…” She paused. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Even if he pays, you know television is addictive. I don’t want Beau Ray watching more than he already does.”
“Okay,” I said. “It wasn’t my idea. I don’t care.”
“Okay, then,” Momma said. “Beau Ray said you were out all day. You told me you’d already cle
aned things up at work.”
“I just had a few more things to do there,” I told her. It was a lie. I’d gone and watched the same movie twice at the Charles Town Cinema.
Momma nodded. “I’m going out Thursday night, so I’ll be wanting you around here then,” she told me.
“You’re going out? Who with?” I asked. Momma almost never went out. I tried to think of the last time she’d socialized and who it had been with. “The Williamses?” I guessed.
“No.”
“Church potluck?”
“I’m going out to dinner with Bill Weintraub,” she said. I didn’t recognize the name at first, and then it hit me.
“Judge Weintraub?”
“He seems like a very nice man,” Momma said.
“You have a date with Judge Weintraub?” I asked. “Or is it some sort of meeting about Joshua?”
“I’m going out to dinner with him,” Momma said. “That’s all.” And I could tell that she wasn’t going to say anything more.
On Wednesday, day three of the ninety, there was a knock at our front door. I was doing dishes in the kitchen, so I pulled off my gloves and went to answer. A tall, skinny woman was waiting outside. She wore sunglasses even though our porch was shady and it looked like a storm was about to blow in. Behind her, in the driveway, a big black car sat idling.
“Is Joshua here?” she asked. She took off her sunglasses then and blinked. “I mean,” she continued, “I know he’s here. Can I see him?”
I stepped aside and let her into the house. “I think he’s sleeping,” I told her. “Come on up. You’re his girlfriend, right?” I asked.
I knew who she was. She was the model for All-American Cosmetics, among other things. I’d seen her in magazines. Her name was Elise.
“And you are?” Elise asked, following me up the stairs.
“I’m Leanne,” I said. “I live here.”
Mean Season Page 6
