“Uh. Yeah. Pizza would be good.”
“And maybe a game of Monopoly and then we can stay up and watch Letterman.”
I swear it was all I could do not to roll my eyes. I was thinking, I'm not your gal pal. Can't you have fun on your own? I was thinking, I don't like Letterman, I like Leno. But of course I kept my mouth shut.
I feel bad saying all this, because before I was bitching about how she was never a real mother. So it sounds like I'm just miserable and complaining either way. But there was something more to it. I just couldn't put my finger on it. It's like, when she's acting like a real mother, it isn't exactly real.
But I was trying hard to be supportive. Every time I started to lose it with her, I just thought, She's trying, so you try, too. She's reaching out, so the least you can do is meet her partway.
All I said was, “Double cheese and pepperoni?”
“Perfect!”
I took the phone in my room and locked the door and ordered the damn pizza. Then I called Pat.
“Pat,” I said, “she's driving me batty. She wants to have a freaking slumber party. I don't want to do this, Pat.”
She said, “Don't take this wrong, okay? Hear this the way it's intended. What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing.”
“Sounds to me like you're scared to death of something.”
“Really? I don't know. I mean, I don't think so.”
“Think it over before you answer,” she said. “You know how that fear thing can be.”
I breathed in and out real deeply for a minute, and some of the crazy feeling started to clear away. Next thing you know, I was answering her question.
“I'm afraid if I let her get close to me and really talk to me, she's going to tell me how sorry she is and ask me to forgive her.”
“And you're not ready to forgive her.”
“I guess I should be, huh?”
“Honey, if you told me everything between you and your mom was water under the bridge, I'd know you'd gone back to lying to me. It takes years to look at all that stuff from a different perspective. It's a whole long process. It's not just something you up and do because you figure you're supposed to. Oh, you can say ‘I forgive you' to someone. But real forgiveness—that's a life's work for most people.”
“So what do I do?”
She thought about it a minute. “Try cutting her a little slack on one tiny thing. One thing that's small enough you really can let it go. Volunteer something. Maybe she'll take that as a down payment.”
“Okay,” I said. “I'm going in. Wish me luck.”
I was sitting across the Monopoly board from her, and every now and then she would belch, and I was trying not to pass judgment. I'd had two and a half slices of pizza and she'd killed the whole rest of the damn thing. She even finished my crusts. I never saw anybody eat like that in my whole life. So much for my midnight snack. But I said nothing.
She was rolling the dice in her hand, not quite managing to throw them, and she looked up from the game, right into my eyes. Like a frog she was about to dissect. “How was school?”
I refused to lie. “I hate school.”
She looked disappointed. “Why?”
“Did you used to like school?”
“No. I hated it.”
“Well?”
That's when it hit me. Something else that scared me. Every time she tried to get to know me, I kept seeing this person who was, like, a total stranger. Even scarier, it seemed almost like this someone was even a stranger to her. It's like she was trying to get to know me and herself at the same time. And it was weird, and upsetting, because she was my mother. I recognized her voice, and I was used to the shape of her sitting around the house. But this was like a conversation with an adult stranger.
And then, underneath that, was something even weirder and scarier. This wasn't a stranger at all, and I knew it. This was my real mom, and part of me almost remembered her. We just hadn't seen each other for such an incredibly long time.
I tried to shake it off.
I said, “I'm sorry I was so hard on you about the job thing.” She just froze, her hand holding the dice. Yes, amazingly, she still had not thrown the damn dice. See how unnatural this whole thing was? She just kept looking at me.
I said, “I know it's weird and scary to have to think about going out and getting a job. So … I'm sorry I came down on you so hard about it.”
On the one hand, I'm not sure I would have thought to say that if Pat hadn't suggested it. But at the same time it felt like something that just bubbled up all on its own.
“Thank you, Cynthia.”
I closed my eyes and prayed Pat was right. That this would hold her for a while. I said, “Mom, throw the dice, okay?”
After Letterman, she wanted me to stay up and talk to her. And, I mean, there has to be a limit. I can try my best, I can really bend over backwards for her, but after a while it gets to be like abuse.
“Mom. It's late. I'm tired.”
“Oh, come on. It'll be fun.”
Yeah. Right. More fun than a barrel of scorpions. I said, “Why don't you just go to sleep?”
All of a sudden she looked at me like she was about to cry. “I haven't been able to sleep much. It's really hard. I just really wanted the company.”
“Oh.” Thank you so much. For making me feel like crap about it. “Want me to make you a glass of warm milk before I go to bed?”
“That would be lovely, Cynthia. Thank you.”
I got the feeling that she didn't care so much about the milk as getting me to stay up a little bit longer.
I said a little prayer that she'd stay in the living room and leave me alone while I heated it up. She followed me into the kitchen like an old dog. Sat at the table and stared at me. I was really at the end of my rope with the staring thing.
I stood at the stove and kept my back to her.
She said, “I know it broke your heart when I sent Bill away.”
It hit my back and just sort of bounced off me. I wouldn't turn around. I wouldn't answer. I would not forgive her for that. Not that. It was wrong of her to ask me to forgive her for that. It was asking too much.
I just kept stirring the damn milk. I didn't know what else I was supposed to do.
“I'm sorry,” she said.
I took down a glass and poured the milk into it. Set it on the table for her. Made sure not to look her in the eye.
“Let's just work on getting him back here,” I said. “That would be a good next step. You just stay sober and bring him back here for the summer and that'll go a long way.”
“I won't let you down,” she said.
She had to say it to my back. She had to call it after me fast as I was going off to bed and glorious privacy at last.
Next time I went to art club, Rachel was out sick, and that guy, the only guy in art club, tried to follow me home. Well, walk me home. I guess I shouldn't make it sound like he was stalking me. He just started talking to me on the way out. Then next thing I knew I was, like, halfway home and he was still there.
He was one of those guys whose face looked good enough, but since he carried himself like a nerd, you couldn't really say he was handsome. But he was okay, except his ears were a little too big.
I still didn't know his name. And he didn't tell me, because I guess he thought I knew. So it seemed way too late to tell him I didn't.
He talked about art, and I could hardly get a word in edge- wise. I just kept looking at the sidewalk and nodding. Then he was quiet for a minute, but I still didn't get any words in because I had no idea what to say. Before I could think of anything, he asked me if I had a boyfriend. I stopped walking and so did he.
I looked up at him, but by then he was looking down at the sidewalk. It seemed like we were taking turns with that.
“I'm not sure,” I said.
“How can you not be sure?”
“Well. There's this guy. But I'm not really sure if he's my boyfriend. But
if I had a boyfriend, it would definitely be him. Because we've been through a lot together. Know what I mean?”
He was still looking at the sidewalk. I looked past him and saw Snake walking down the street behind us. I felt really glad to see him. Like he was rescuing me. I waved really big and motioned for him to catch up.
The kid whose name I didn't know said, “Okay, then, thanks anyway.” And he walked off before Snake could catch up to us.
I looked at Snake, and I think he could see by the look on my face that I was glad to see him.
“I wasn't spying on you,” he said. “I just wanted to see if I could catch you on your way home from school.”
“I didn't think you were spying. I was happy to see you. I think that guy was trying to ask me out. But I told him if I had a boyfriend it would be you. And then when you were there, it was perfect timing.”
He smiled and looked kind of shy, and I could see that he had been worried. I could tell by the relief on his face when he got to stop.
He said, “Want to go for an ice cream?”
Not going home sounded like the most wonderful plan ever. I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it myself.
On the way down to the ice cream place he said, “You never really told me much about what happened to you. You know. After I took off.”
“Oh. Probably because it was all bad.”
“You don't have to if you don't want.”
“No, it's okay. Nanny and Grampop came and got Bill from the hospital. I never even got to see him. Or them. They didn't even poke their heads in my room and say ‘hi.' I had to go to court. Got probation, thank God. Because I'd never been in trouble before. I think they thought it was all your fault. Even though I kept trying to tell them I was the brains behind the outfit. No offense.”
“I knew what you meant.”
“Anyway, you know, older boy and all. I guess they figured you had me doing stuff that was unlike me. Little did they know.”
“So you just have to see a probation officer?”
“No, they also make me go to AA meetings. And they make me take pee tests, so they know what I've been doing.”
“So, are you, like, just dying to get that over with so you can go back to being yourself?”
“Yes and no,” I said. “I'll be happy to be done with probation, all right.”
And then we were at the ice cream place, and there was no line. I got one of those chocolate cones where they fill it up with a giant spiral of soft-serve chocolate and then dip it in a chocolate coating that freezes on. Snake got vanilla, which seemed weird. Why would anyone like vanilla? And why didn't I know he did?
We sat outside.
I said, “I'm trying not to go back to that. At all. I figure I'll keep going to the meetings and try to stick with it. Even after I don't really have to.”
I was all ready to hear him say something like, What the hell is that all about? Or, Wow, they really brainwash you, huh? That's the way I thought someone from the outside would see it.
“Good for you,” he said.
“You really mean that?”
“Absolutely. I was kind of worried about it. You know. That you'd turn out …”
“Like my mom?”
He put his hands—ice cream cone and all—in front of his face. Like pretend defense. “I'm not running down your mom. Not after what happened to Richie.” We both laughed a little. It was funny but kind of uncomfortable, too. Then he said, “But seriously, I was worried.”
“Did it seem like I was that bad?”
I could tell I was putting him on the spot. He didn't want to answer that. He stumbled around a little. “I don't know. Maybe. I mean, I don't know how bad it has to be. You know. To be bad. It just seemed … But I don't know, I could be wrong, too. I'm not trying to judge you.”
“No, it's okay. I want you to. I mean, I want to hear this.
Because I was so sure it wasn't that bad. But now I'm thinking maybe I was looking at it wrong.”
“Those bad habits have a funny way of making you look at them wrong.”
I wondered how he knew. Snake didn't drink, so far as I knew. I'd never seen him drink.
I said, “Here's the really weird part. This will blow you away. Now my mom is going to the meetings and not drinking.”
“You're shittin' me.”
I held up one hand like I was in court. God forbid. “May God strike me dead if I'm lying.”
“That sounds weird. I mean … is it weird? Or is it okay?”
“Well. There are okay parts. Like, if she stays sober, we're going to get Bill back for the whole summer. I'm looking forward to that so much I can hardly stand it. I was scared he was going to forget me.” I was surprised I said that. I didn't know I was about to say something so honest. “But mostly it's weird.”
“No way. That kid would never forget you. You're his whole world.” I thought that was a nice thing to say. “I know you really love that kid. I think it's nice, too. I know I was kind of nasty about it. But I was just being selfish. It was nice. It's like I knew you didn't care about school, or your mom, or me, but it was nice to see that you cared about something.” He licked some melted ice cream off the cone and the side of his hand. We were both quiet a minute. Probably a little embarrassed. Then he said, “What's the downside?”
“Of what?”
“You said there were bad parts to your mom not drinking.”
“Oh. That. Yeah, lots of them. She comes to my meetings, which makes it really hard to be myself. And she notices me now, and everything that happens in the house, and I feel like I'm being watched all the time. And she wants to be taken care of. She's feeling all … you know … like … fragile or something. And she wants me around all the time and she wants me to cook for her and bring her things and watch TV with her. It's exhausting. It's like having a kid. I swear, now I know what it feels like to be a mother. Well, I already did, because of Bill. But he was easy, compared to my mom. She's really tough to raise. Boy, I swear I could use a vacation.”
“How about just a little vacation? How about if Friday I pick you up and we'll go see a movie? There're about three good things playing downtown. I'll even let you pick the movie. Think she'd let you go?”
“It's not up to her. I'm the mother, remember?”
“Does that mean yes?”
“Yes.”
“Cool.”
We were pretty much done with our ice cream by then, so he walked me home. We didn't really talk much on the way. But it wasn't weird or anything. We just walked along and didn't need to keep filling up the air with chatter.
When we got to the end of my driveway he said, “I keep meaning to say something about that letter you gave me.”
“Yeah, I wondered.” My stomach felt a little scared.
“I've been meaning to say don't feel so bad. We both pretty much screwed up big-time. I mean, I don't think even you could make that big a mess all by yourself. But anyway, thanks for what you said.”
Then he walked away. Didn't try to kiss me or hug me goodbye or anything. Just turned around and walked home. Wherever that was.
CHAPTER 13
The Kind You Get
to Pick Out Yourself
Nanny and Grampop still hadn't written me back.
I called Pat to talk about it.
She said trust was hard. We break somebody's trust a few times and we can't get it back just like that. It takes time and effort. We have to give them time to see that we really are serious about changing.
She said if I wanted, she'd talk to them for me. Put in a good word.
“Thanks,” I said. “But I'd like to try one more time on my own.”
Then I got off the phone and sat there wondering what I could say to them that I hadn't already said last time. That's when it hit me, and I felt really stupid that it had never hit me before.
I called Pat back. I said, “I never made amends to Nanny and Grampop.”
She said, “Bingo.”
“You thought of that already? Why didn't you tell me?”
“I was hoping you would think of it on your own.”
“If I sit down and write them a letter for my amends, can I read it to you first?”
“Sure,” she said.
And then I got off the phone because I had a lot of work to do.
I spent the whole evening working on it and took it over to Pat's the next day.
She just sat quietly and listened while I read it to her. Which was really embarrassing. But I did it anyway.
“Dear Nanny and Grampop,
“I think I should have written this letter to you a long time ago. It's funny how the more I go along, the more I look back on what came before, like things I did in the past, and see them in a different way. So when it hits me that I owe amends to someone, I think it's because I'm finally able to see what really happened.
“I think when I took Bill I felt almost like he belonged to me. Because I felt like I was the only one who really cared about him. But now I know it isn't enough to care about him. You have to be able to take care of him. I don't know how I thought I was going to do that.
“I guess there were a lot of things I didn't think through.
“I just know that I shouldn't have stolen him in the middle of the night, no matter how much I love him and how much I wanted him back. I also know I took a big risk driving with him. So I can look back at the way I loved him then and see that it wasn't a very good kind of love if I was willing to take that much of a chance with his safety. I'm sorry I couldn't see that at the time.
“I'm not trying to steal him now. I'm trying to earn him.
“Whether you believe me or not, I'm trying to learn to be the kind of person who can take care of him. Just for the summer at first. Mom is trying, too.
“I know I've let you down before, and there's nothing I can say now that will magically make you trust me. I know that, and I really understand. Maybe if I were you, I wouldn't trust me, either. So if you want to watch me for a while to see if I really mean it, that's okay.
“I just need to ask again if you'll read letters to Bill for me if I write them. Because I'm just really scared that he'll forget all about me. Here I am working so hard to be able to get him back and I worry that he won't even remember me when the time comes. I don't know if you're not answering me because it would take time to read to him, or because you think I don't deserve it. Maybe I don't. But Bill does. He deserves to still have a sister.
The Year of My Miraculous Reappearance Page 15
