by Jo Ramsey
“So it’s my fault she left?” Even though he’d said exactly what I was thinking, it pissed me off. My voice rose, and I didn’t care, even though Jillian and Cece both looked at me. Dad couldn’t blame this on me. If anyone should be blamed, it was him.
“No, no, of course not.” He rubbed his face and sat at the opposite end of the couch from me. “It isn’t anyone’s fault except your mother’s. I’m sorry, Chris. I’m so stressed right now trying to figure all this out that I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“It’s okay.” It wasn’t, but I figured he needed to hear me accept his apology.
“I should go home,” Jillian said. She stood up. “Lyle, I didn’t mind staying here with Cecelia. Everything went fine. Chris is sixteen. He should have the chance to spend time with his friends.”
Dad nodded. “I know he should. Thanks, Jillian. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye,” I added.
Cece, of course, didn’t say anything.
Jillian went out the door, and I got up to engage the lock before Cece recognized the chance to escape. Instead of sitting down again, I wandered into the kitchen to see what we had for supper. I doubted Dad had given any thought to it, and even if he had, he didn’t know what Cece was likely to eat. I would have to cook.
“Chris, we need to finish talking.” Dad came into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “How often did your mother go out on these errands?”
I was going to downplay it, then figured I shouldn’t bother. I’d already told him about the errands. There wasn’t any point in lying about how often she took off. “Pretty much every day. She’d say she had to go to the store or something and go off for a couple hours. Then she’d come home before you.”
“And you never said anything.” He sighed. “I understand you wanted to protect your mother, but I wish you’d been honest with me. She wasn’t running errands all those times. She couldn’t have been.”
“I think she just went for drives or something, so she could have a break from Cece.” I crouched down to look in the meat drawer of the fridge. “Maybe we should have eggs and bacon for supper.”
“That’s breakfast, not supper.”
“It’s something Cece likes.” I glanced over at him. “You’ve always been working and stuff. I don’t think you understand how hard it is to take care of Cece sometimes. That’s probably why Mom left, and I know that’s why she went out so much. She was tired. Cece’s a lot of work. If you don’t follow her schedule, or you don’t give her just the right food, or don’t do half a dozen other things just right, she flips out.”
“I know she does. I thought she’d gotten better.” He slid off the counter and went into the living room. “She’s sitting here watching TV like nothing’s changed.”
“She knows Mom isn’t coming back,” I said. “I don’t know if it makes a difference to her.” Mom had said once that she didn’t think Cece even knew the rest of us were real people. She just considered us the ones who did things for her. I didn’t know if that was true or if it was just another of Mom’s complaints.
“Your mother will be back,” Dad said firmly. “We just don’t know when.”
“Okay, you just keep telling yourself that.” I took a carton of eggs and a package of bacon out of the fridge and set them on the counter beside the stove. “Meanwhile, we’re having bacon and eggs for supper, and you’re going to have to go to the grocery store soon because we’re running out of a lot of the things Cece likes to eat.”
“Make me a list,” he said in a tired voice. “Can you cook supper?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I’m going to go change, and then you can explain that schedule to me again.” He headed downstairs to his room.
I started cooking the bacon. Cece came into the kitchen and stood beside me, so I let her help me flip the strips with the long-handled fork we usually used for barbecuing. It wouldn’t hurt her to learn how to cook, but I didn’t want to take a chance on grease spattering her.
“Dad’s sad tonight,” I said to her, wondering if she even knew what “sad” meant. “He misses Mom, and he doesn’t know how to help you.”
“Sad,” she repeated. “Dad sad, dad sad, dad sad.” She kept saying it. I should have known better than to say something that rhymed. Rhymes always got her going.
I didn’t bother trying to stop her chanting. I just made sure we kept cooking while she did it.
After the bacon was done, I broke several eggs into a mixing bowl and added some milk, then showed Cece how to stir the gunk. She stirred a little too hard, and some of the stuff splattered onto the counter. She looked up at me with wide eyes.
I smiled. “It’s okay. We can clean it up.”
Without being asked, she tore off a chunk of paper towel and wiped at some of the splatters. I figured somewhere along the line, Mom must have taught her how to clean up spills. I knew Cece spilled stuff a lot. Which didn’t make Mom too happy.
For the first time, I wondered how Mom had treated Cece when no one else was around. The way Cece had looked at me when the egg goo spattered on the counter had seemed an awful lot like fear. I didn’t think she would have been afraid for no reason.
We finished mixing the eggs, and I poured them into a large frying pan. Cece watched while I used a spatula to keep mixing them until they were cooked.
“Can you get me three plates?” I asked her as I moved the frying pan off the hot burner.
Mom kept the plates in a cupboard Cece could reach. She’d regretted it a few times when Cece had thrown plates and other dishes around during tantrums, but she’d insisted that someday she would teach my sister how to set the table and stuff, so she wanted the dishes where Cece could get to them. I didn’t know whether Mom had ever taught Cece about table setting, so I was a little surprised when my sister took three plates out of the cupboard, counting under her breath.
“Put them on the counter,” I said. If I hadn’t included that direction, she probably would have stood there holding the plates all night.
She did, and I started dishing up eggs and bacon. Dad hadn’t come back upstairs yet. I started to ask Cece to get him, then decided that might be a bad idea. She probably wouldn’t have been able to tell him that supper was ready, if she even followed the direction. Mom had claimed lately that Cece could talk more than she did. I didn’t know whether that was true. Or how Mom knew whether Cece was able to talk more if Cece didn’t do it.
I went over to the top of the stairs. I didn’t want to go down to Dad’s room and leave Cece upstairs by herself, so I just bellowed, “Dad! Supper’s ready!”
“Be right there,” he replied.
I put all three plates on the table and told Cece, “Sit down, please.”
While she followed that direction, I got her a cup of juice and myself a can of soda. Then I sat down in my usual seat, and Cece and I started eating.
Dad didn’t come upstairs until we were about halfway finished. He sat down in his chair and picked up his fork, but he didn’t eat anything, just poked at the eggs.
“I was on the phone with your mother,” he said after a few seconds.
“You called her?” I asked.
He shook his head. “She called. She said you left her a voice mail she wasn’t happy about.”
I’d almost forgotten about that. “I called her a selfish bitch. If she doesn’t like being called that, she shouldn’t act like one.”
“Chris, you can’t say things like that about your mother.” He glanced at Cece, who as usual didn’t seem to have heard anything that was said. “I don’t care how angry you are with her, you have to be respectful.”
“Why?” I demanded. “She isn’t being very respectful of us right now. Haven’t you always told me that respect has to be earned?”
“Your mother should have your respect.” He sighed. I had the feeling he’d be doing that a lot from then on. “I understand you’re angry, but don’t say things like that to her, at least.”
“She said—” He kind of choked. “She said she isn’t coming home. She’s met someone else, and she’s going to live with him in Worcester. She said she’s been seeing him a while.”
He gave me a look, and I realized what he was saying. “The errands.”
He nodded. “She wasn’t running errands. She was having an affair.”
I pushed my plate away. I felt like someone had just sucker punched me. There was no way I could eat anything else. My mother had been lying to everyone, including me, and it made me sick to my stomach.
Cece kept eating like nothing was going on.
Chapter Eleven
THE NEXT morning, I woke up still feeling like I’d been punched in the gut. My stomach ached, and when I tried to sit up, a nasty taste rolled up my throat into my mouth. The worst part was, I didn’t remember at first why I felt that way.
Then it all rushed back, and I wished I hadn’t woken up.
My mother had been having an affair. I had no clue with whom, because she’d never mentioned any guys. She’d never mentioned any friends, for that matter. Before we’d moved, she’d had friends she visited once in a while or who came to our house. Most of them had been other parents of kids on the autism spectrum, so Mom had had something in common with them. She hadn’t met anyone since we’d moved to Wellfleet as far as I knew. That had been one of her major complaints; she didn’t have anyone to talk to.
Obviously she’d found someone somewhere. And they’d done a lot more than talk.
I hated her. If I could have taken a steak knife and jabbed her in the heart, I probably would have. She deserved pain after what she’d done to us.
I didn’t stay homicidal long. She was still my mother. I hated her for what she’d done, but I still loved her too. Basically I was a mess as far as figuring out how I felt, so I decided not to bother trying.
The last thing I wanted to do was go to school. I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything, plus I was afraid I’d end up throwing up during class or something. The nausea was because I was so pissed off, but Dad would have bought it if I’d tried to convince him I was sick. He was kind of gullible. And I knew he felt guilty about Mom leaving and about her leaving me to take care of Cece so much, so he would have given in even if he hadn’t believed me.
If I stayed home, I probably would end up staring at the TV and being pissed off all day. If I went to school, at least I’d have other people around. They might help distract me from thinking too much about my mother.
I grabbed some clothes without paying attention to what I picked out and went into the bathroom.
When I went to the kitchen after my shower, Dad and Cece were sitting at the table, each eating a bowl of cereal. Cece had dropped more pieces of cereal on the table than she’d probably managed to swallow, but at least she’d eaten something.
I decided I didn’t want cereal, so I microwaved a frozen mini-pizza. Dad gave me a look but didn’t say anything about my meal choice.
“I talked to my boss yesterday,” he said when I sat down. “I think I forgot to tell you. My new hours at work are going to be eleven to seven, so I’m going to need you to help out here for a little while. I’m going to try to find someone to come in to clean and take care of your sister. Until that happens—”
“What about Jillian?” I interrupted. She couldn’t have given up after only one day. If she had, I’d have a few choice things to say to her.
“Jillian will still be coming over to help for the time being,” he said. “It isn’t fair to ask her to spend so much time here when she has her own house and family to take care of. I want to hire someone.”
He probably didn’t want to feel guilty about taking someone else’s mother away from them. I understood that. I just didn’t like the idea of having a total stranger taking care of my sister. “You’d better be careful about who you hire,” I said. “You know Cece will have a problem adjusting to someone new. We’re lucky she gets along with Jillian as well as she does.”
“I’ll make sure to find someone who has experience with autism. Maybe one of her therapists can recommend someone.” He ate a spoonful of cereal. “That might take a while. That’s why I’m talking to you now. I know it’s going to be hard on you to have to bring Cece home every afternoon, and I’d prefer you staying home most of the time just in case Jillian does have a problem. I don’t mean you can’t ever go to a friend’s house. Just maybe not often, and not for long.”
Which meant he didn’t want me leaving the house and just didn’t dare to say so. The anger I’d already had grew by an exponent of about fifty. It had sucked enough that Mom had made me take care of my sister. Now my father was doing the same thing, and he was trying to cover it up by making me sound like Jillian’s backup.
He didn’t think Jillian could handle Cece. For that matter, Jillian probably didn’t think she could handle my sister. And we already knew Dad didn’t have a clue, which left me as the only person who knew what he was doing.
It wasn’t fair.
I shoved the plate of pizza away and stood. “I feel like crap. I’m staying home.”
“Are you sick?” Dad studied me. “You look okay.”
“Yeah, because you can tell by looking at me whether I’m about to puke or not,” I muttered. “I feel crappy, I don’t want to go to school, and I’m staying home. Call me in.” I hesitated, then added, “Please.” I didn’t feel like being respectful right then, but I knew Dad wouldn’t make the call otherwise.
“Fine.” He stomped over to the counter and grabbed the phone. “Don’t think you’re going to make a habit of this, Chris, because you aren’t. School is important. I know what we found out last night hit you hard. That’s the only reason I’m doing this. Tomorrow you’re going to school. I don’t care how you feel.”
“Yeah, whatever.” I didn’t care about the next day or much of anything else right then. I’d woken up thinking school would be a good thing. Dad’s comment about wanting me to stay home after school had pissed me off so much that I figured if I did go to school, I’d end up punching a locker or something. Maybe even punching Jonathan or any other jerk who gave me a hard time. I didn’t want to deal with any other human beings that day.
Except maybe Noah. He would be home all day. I didn’t know if his parents would be, but even if they were, the house was big enough that we’d have some privacy. As long as his mother didn’t barge in on us with snacks again, anyway.
Noah would definitely take my mind off all the crap with my mother and Cece.
“If you stay home, I’m still going to need you to get your sister off the van,” Dad said.
He still hadn’t called my school, and I knew he wouldn’t if I didn’t promise to pick Cece up. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”
“Don’t take this out on her,” he warned.
That shot my temper higher than I could manage. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” I shouted. “I’ve never in my life taken anything out on her! All the times you and Mom ignored me because of her, all the times you couldn’t do stuff with me because you had to take her to an appointment or something, all those times, I’ve never taken anything out on her. It isn’t her fault she’s the way she is, and I know that. So don’t you frigging stand there saying I’m going to take things out on her. I’m not. You and Mom are the ones who are screwed-up, not Cece!”
He stared at me, mouth open. I’d gone way too far, and I didn’t care.
I grabbed my coat and sneakers and whipped open the front door. “Call my frigging school or don’t. I don’t give a crap. I’m done.”
I stormed out, slamming the door behind me so hard the house shook. My feet immediately froze, because I hadn’t taken time to put my shoes on. I didn’t care. If I stopped to put them on now, that would give Dad enough time to catch up with me, and I w
as through dealing with him.
I was through dealing with everyone.
I practically ran down the slope to the cove. That would probably be the first place Dad checked if he came after me. Then again, he couldn’t follow me. He couldn’t leave Cece alone. So whatever I did and wherever I went, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until after he put Cece on the van.
The sand on the little strip of beach between the slope and the water was cool through my socks. I knew I should put on my sneakers, but I didn’t want to stop walking. I could go up around the point then down the other side and all the way to town if I wanted. The tide wasn’t high enough yet to cover the route along the harbor. Walking would clear my head, and I might be able to stop hating my parents for a little while.
Walking that far without my shoes on would have been stupid, so once I was out of sight of the house, I stopped for a minute to sit on a rock and put them on. Grains of sand rubbed against the bottoms of my feet, since I hadn’t bothered brushing off my socks. I decided it didn’t matter.
“What are you doing out here so early?”
At Noah’s voice, I jumped and almost fell off the rock. I turned to see him smiling at me.
His smile faded. “Are you okay? I hope I’m not the one you’re so mad at.”
“Nope, you aren’t.” I stood up. “What are you doing?”
“Taking a walk.” He nodded up the beach toward the point. “I like being out here early. Sometimes I see animals I don’t get to see when there are a lot of other people around, and at this time of day, I’m usually the only one here. Besides, walking is good exercise, and exercise is supposed to be part of my education.” He rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I think I’d have less rules in public school.”
“You only think that because you’ve never been to public school.” I spotted a bright blue shell in the sand and picked it up. “Cece will like this. She loves walking on the beach and picking up shells and rocks.”
