She’s not even paying any attention to me. I feel a desperate need for her to know that I’m not impressed with her cinnamon buns, for her to know I’ve had lots and lots of them. That my kitchen is fragrant in the morning with baking and sliced fruit, and not messy and sticky with stale gin and dirty ashtrays.
She’s already stood up, and suddenly I’m afraid that if I open my mouth at all, I’ll burst into tears, and how will I explain that?
She hurries out to the patio, where she grabs our bathing suits that are now dry and hang over a low brick wall in the spot between the purple and red vines. We walk into the garage and get on our bikes, and I notice Annie doesn’t take her tennis racket.
We pedal fast, especially up the last hill to the club. For a second, my paralyzing anxiety descends again about putting on the bathing suit. Then I remember that everyone’s already seen me in it and I’ll just come up with more interesting stories about being a kind of Kennedy.
We lock our bikes at the rack. I follow Annie’s quick walk inside the club. Gray clouds press over the pool, squeezing out the blue. Humidity curls the ends of my hair. A glint of cool sharpens the air, and goose bumps rise up on my arm from a slice of breeze.
It feels as if something dangerous might happen today, like maybe motorcycle boys will screech into the club and beat up Annie’s rich-kid friends, or someone will get hit on the head just before they dive into the pool, and one of the moms will scream, “Does anyone know CPR?”
Annie grabs a Diet Coke from the snack bar so I do too, even though I like regular. We head up the redwood stairs. There are no adults on the sundeck today and music blasts like fists. We make our way to the far end of the deck where huge pines make a fragrant wall of green. I try to imitate Annie’s walk, where her waist leads and her hips swing out. Eva and Emily are already lathered up with suntan lotion, lying on their towels. Leslie stands at the edge of the deck, tanned and plump in a white bikini, sneaking a cig.
I scan the boys, trying to act like I’m not. I see Andrew and I know my face is turning beet red, so I look away quickly and say, “Hi” to the first person I see. It turns out to be Carl. This is not good because I have a fake smile on my face and Carl could think I’m smiling at him because I kissed him last night in Bump Around and that I like him.
I lose the smile.
Annie and I drop our towels next to Emily and Eva. Brian and Matt are staring at the girls’ backs, acting like they keep finding spots where the girls forgot to put suntan lotion, even though it’s so cloudy they probably don’t need it at all. Brian touches a total inner-thigh area on Emily and goes, “Yup, it’s gonna fry. Maybe if I could just put a little lotion on it for you.”
Emily squeals and swipes his hand away, and I hope by the end of the summer I’ll be able to squeal like that.
Ben, the guy who did the finger thing with Leslie, comes up the sundeck and tosses her a bag of chips, and it’s funny how it’s cool to eat junk instead of meals when you’re rich, but sad if you’re poor and your mother burns any meal she tries to make because she’s too drunk.
Leslie drops her cigarette onto the ground and steps on it with her sandal. It’s brown with a little jewel strap and I figure it must have cost a couple hundred dollars. She picks up the cigarette butt and tosses it into the redwood garbage container, and then walks over to us with her fingers poking into Ben’s shoulder like she’s trying to see if he has a sunburn.
Ben has shaggy blond hair and plays air guitar. He gives Leslie a kiss right on the lips and says to her, “I gotta take a leak.” When he gets to the stairs I ask Leslie if she thinks I should lie out first on my back or my stomach.
I’m waiting for her to examine the front and back of my legs like she did for Emily yesterday to compare the tans. Instead she just goes, “Whatever,” and I feel humiliated and cheated, furious at Ben for diverting her attention from what I thought was trusted girl stuff.
Annie lies on her stomach and unhooks her bathing suit top. A voice from behind us says, “Need help with the lotion?” and I don’t have to turn to know it’s JKIII.
“Stephanie will do it,” Annie says loftily and I scuttle over to her like a trained puppy.
I pour out the lotion carefully, happier about my job when I see Eva looking over, irritated that she wasn’t asked. I rub the white lotion on Annie’s glistening skin until it is perfectly melded with her tan, an invisible armor against sunburn in case the sun comes out.
I use my thumb to push the little opening of the top of the lotion closed and Annie’s lids drop, dismissing me. My face shows nothing of the slight as I fall onto my towel and rub lotion on the front of my legs.
I wanted to lie on my stomach to keep my chest shielded from view because it flattens out even more when I’m lying on my back, but no one has asked me if I need lotion on my back, and I don’t know who to ask. No one ever asks Annie to put lotion on them, and I would eat glass before I asked Eva.
JKIII lies right on the deck next to Annie’s head. It’s obvious he wishes he could speak to her privately, but she clearly isn’t done punishing him yet. I finish putting lotion on my stomach and arms, then lie back and close my eyes. I don’t want to miss a word. The stakes are high; she already let him put his hand in her pants.
“So, did you get my message last night?” he asks.
“Um, I think I did. I didn’t have my cell with me and I got home pretty late and there were, like, ten of them to listen to.” Her voice is lazy, unconcerned. I wonder if I’ll ever get to act like I don’t like a boy I do like and who likes me back.
“I really miss you,” he says in an even quieter voice. “I was hoping we could play tennis today,” he continues when she doesn’t say anything.
I feel movement beside me. She sits up. “Bummer, I didn’t bring my racket,” she says, then adds, “But I’m soooo thirsty. I’d love it if you got me another Diet Coke.”
I’m dying to see the look on his face, and I can feel the other girls waiting for his reply. I lift my lids just a fraction so I can get a read on where the other boys are standing. I know vaguely that their ability to hear this conversation will weigh into his decision to comply. I do a full scan of the deck. None of the other guys could have heard Annie’s request.
JKIII is silent for a minute. Annie, his prize, shimmers just out of reach, attainable only with his total submission in getting the Diet Coke. More clouds bunch in the sky while he weighs and considers. I already know what he will do.
“I’m totally parched,” he announces getting to his feet. “Can I get any of you ladies anything?”
I open my eyes fully now and sit up. My “No, thanks” slides out of my throat, skipping up to him over Annie’s face, which is beaming in a smile of the purest pleasure.
I pour more lotion into my hands because I want to look busy and not like I’m waiting for somebody to say something. Out of the corner of my eye I see Andrew walk over to our towels. I want to quickly lie back down and close my eyes so I can be lazy and disinterested if he says anything to me because of his kiss with Eva last night, but it’s too late. He already saw my eyes looking at his.
When he stops in front of my towel and says, “Morning, Senator,” I can’t help but smile and say, “Hey.”
I can’t see Eva’s face, but a bottle of lotion comes flying from her towel right at his chest. He catches it. “You’re blocking my sun,” she says to him.
He barely looks at her and just says, “Sorry,” then drops down at the end of my towel. “You going to Mulholland tonight?” he asks me.
I have no clue how to flip my hair so I just shrug and keep my voice as Annie-like as possible. “Maybe.”
He looks frustrated, like he thought I was going to say something smart like I did the other day and instead I acted all girly. I’m totally confused so now I say in my normal voice, “Probably.”
“Good,” he says and does a friendly squeeze of my big toe like you would on a baby’s cheek. “I’ll see you there. I’m going t
o get my cast off right now.”
He stands up and ambles off. My toe soars to the clouds, taking me with it, when Annie’s voice cuts like diamonds, “Who is that?”
I turn to look in the direction she’s looking. Two girls have come up the deck. One is not much taller than I am, sort of plain with long, dusty red hair. The other girl is as tall as Annie, and she is a dark goddess of unparalleled curves and bounty. They walk to our end of the sundeck and I can’t take my eyes off of her breasts, which are winged and wide and fill up the front of her one-piece bathing suit in such an effulgence of fertility, I expect drums to be beaten and every male in the club to leap forward in worship.
No one in our group speaks. Annie looks like a shotgun went off in her face. I’m wildly glad Andrew isn’t here. I hear Matt whisper, “Holy crap,” and Emily looks like he slapped her.
The girls put down their towels. The redhead lies down first on her stomach and unhooks her top. Everyone is silent as the goddess leans over her friend’s back and pours lotion into small white pools. A groan escapes Matt when she starts to rub in the lotion in smooth, round strokes. Her breasts heave with her movement, stunningly attractive even though her suit is plain, boring and cut to cover as much of her body as possible.
When she’s finished, she lies on her back and closes her eyes. Her double Everests settle only slightly at her sides, the majority of their bulk rising up so high that when I squeeze my eyes half shut, I see them blend with the clouds.
Even Annie is awestruck.
CHAPTER TEN
We didn’t stay at the club very long. Annie said she was bored and that it was too cloudy to get any sun anyway. We ended up going shopping. Everyone bought clothes except for me. I just acted like I didn’t like anything, because I didn’t have any money. Now that we’re home, Annie says she’s exhausted and going to take a nap. I hear the TV in her room and her bustling around in front of her door where her mirror is, so I figure she’s trying on all her new outfits.
I’m just glad she didn’t ask me to watch her model them. There’s a bookcase in my room and I really need to read.
I’m lying on the soft carpet, reading the titles on the bottom shelf of the books, when there’s a knock on my door. I sigh, waiting for Annie to blow in with yet another request to discuss the treachery of JKIII. “Ye-ah,” I mutter halfheartedly. The door opens and Uncle Michael walks in stiffly. The briefcase is in his hand.
I sit up straight and swallow hard. His face is tight and closed, not like it was the last time I spoke to him, when we sat on the patio and talked about law.
He closes the door and faces me. I feel very small. Small and bad. Wrong at my core.
He opens up the briefcase and takes out a handful of bumpy, ruined documents. “I want you to tell me,” he barks with no “hello” or anything, “what the hell you were up to.” He is very, very angry, with a stranger’s face. He is not at all Carson Drew.
I open my mouth wanting to be strong and own up to my mistake, but no sound comes out. Like my father, I’m passive in the face of an attack. I just look down, shame burning hotly through me.
My guilt is obvious. A hiss of disgust steams out of his mouth. I pull my knees up to make myself smaller.
“Look,” he says harshly. “I owe a debt to your family and I’m going to honor it. I’ll pay to feed you and clothe you until your father can straighten out the mess he has going on in Boston. But the one thing I won’t tolerate is you stealing from me, or anyone else in this house. Are we clear?”
“Stealing?” I mutter weakly and risk a quick glance at his face. I see him now as he must have always been, before I fastened my pathetic, father-hungry Carson Drew fantasy on him: a rich man living a smug, rich life with his smug, rich family.
I don’t even try to defend myself. I’m just a crumb under the weight of his privileged righteousness. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that he was paying for me to live there. I don’t really even eat that much.
He turns and walks silently out the door.
I lie on my bed staring up at the ceiling. I’m too humiliated to even cry. There’s another knock on my door and I steel myself for any comments he may have forgotten to make the first time.
Annie flies in, talking a mile a minute as usual. “Come on, I’m dying for a cig. And, I have some major new dish on that girl, Amal. Leslie’s sister met her and said she’s like really stupid.”
I’m still lying there frozen. She slaps me in the leg. “Earth to Stephanie. Come. On.”
She turns to go. I stare at her back dumbly. She turns around and glares at me, silent.
Somehow, my body gets up and I follow her downstairs and outside, praying that we won’t run into her father. We don’t run into anyone as we cross the patio and climb down some rocks to a path, about five feet below the yard, that winds around her property. We walk all the way to the back and break through some bushes. There are three big flat rocks in a semicircle totally enshrouded by green.
Annie sits down first and motions for me to sit on the rock next to her. She takes a pack of cigarettes out of the little purse she has over her shoulder. She hits the top of the pack expertly on the back of her hand and three cigarettes pop out ready for smoking. She lights hers first, then throws me one and the pack of matches. I’m still in shock so I just numbly light mine and clamp my teeth over the cough that lunges up from my throat.
Annie inhales deeply and throws her head back to make smoke rings above her head. Part of my brain is spinning, trying to think of how I can secretly call my father and beg him to fly me out tonight; the other part simply watches the way her mouth forms O’s right before the smoke comes out.
She blows another smoke ring, then says, “Jesus, my cramps are killing me.”
Her words hover above my head, mixing with the smoke. I can’t really focus on her because I’m too preoccupied with the stark fear of running into her father later. I keep thinking that I should have said something, should have, at least, told him I wasn’t stealing. But what could I have said—that I was looking for a case to solve? That I thought I could be Nancy Drew?
That I had wanted to make him my father?
Annie is looking at me now with what I recognize as her peevish pout since I haven’t responded to her. I know I’d better say something, or, on top of everything, she’ll know I haven’t gotten my period, and if I still have to stay here, I can’t have her knowing that.
“Midol’s the best” flies out of my lips, and I’m glad I’ve seen the commercial with the concerned mom.
“Yeah, I’m out,” she says, and I feel like I’ve just gotten away with a theft.
I’m about to try to make a smoke ring like she does so I don’t have to talk when Uncle Michael’s voice comes from over our heads. “Isn’t Carmen supposed to keep this clean?” Silently we both press our cigarettes into the ground.
Aunt Sarah says, “I’m sure she did it last Friday.”
“That’s not often enough,” Uncle Michael answers in the new angry voice I heard tonight. The voice of the entitled stranger, used to nothing but the best, forced to deal with the incompetence or dishonesty of lesser beings.
Annie points up but I’ve already figured out that they’re sitting in the gazebo, practically right over our heads.
We hear the tinkle of ice. Annie presses her hand over her mouth not to laugh. If the ugliness hadn’t happened in my room, this would be one of those moments I’ve always dreamed of, girlfriends spying on the adults. Instead, I’m filled with dread.
“I wanted to come out here,” Uncle Michael says, “so the kids wouldn’t hear.”
Annie raises her eyebrows in a face like, tell-us-more. I think I can guess what’s coming. I frantically motion for us to go, but she swats at my arm, like, are-you-out-of-your-mind?
“I think she may be a bad influence on Annie,” Uncle Michael opens.
We both know whom he’s talking about. Annie bites on her hand to keep from laughing, like she can’t be-li
eeeeve we’re getting to hear this. I bite on my hand too because I think I’m going to throw up. My eyes feel hot. I want us to get out of here.
“I found something spilled all over the inside of my briefcase when I went in it this morning. It’s never happened before so I knew it had to be her. I think she may have thought I had money in there and gone in to get it.”
Annie looks at me, puzzled. My heart is beating so loud I’m afraid she’ll hear it and know my half smile is the hardest face I’ve ever made.
“That’s absurd,” Aunt Sarah says. “Megan probably wanted to get some paper to draw on.”
I wait with the breath in my mouth turning old and sour from fear. I’m begging silently that somehow they will just drop the discussion and Annie and I can leave now.
Ice tinkles from one of their glasses. A few raindrops fall. That could save me. Maybe now he’ll say, “Jesus we’re in for a storm,” and they’ll both run into the house.
I let my breath out slowly and cross my fingers behind my back so tightly they almost break each other. Uncle Michael sighs heavily like someone with really bad news. “I didn’t tell you the whole story about why she’s here because I was afraid you’d say no and I owe her uncle Sean. His family pretty much raised me when Ma got sick. Even after she came home from the hospital. Hell, I was over there more than at my own house.”
There’s a little murmur from Aunt Sarah as if she’s nodding with recollections of stories told and retold about Uncle Michael in his younger days, hanging out at the O’Hagens’, thick as brothers.
“Anyway, Stephanie’s mother just walked out on her and her father. A total alkie. Ugly as it gets. Liam met her years ago over a couple of shots. Classic bar slut. Shirt down to here, always smashed. He knocked her up and, of course, being the good Catholic, married her. Think that daughter’s going to be just like her. Bad news. Confronted her tonight when I got home about going into my briefcase. Didn’t even deny it.”
Invisible Girl Page 8
