“Yeah, but who would know?” Nash asked. “It’s not like Jake’s gonna tell or Mike. I mean Mike is a crazy mof . . . um . . . guy sometimes. And . . . ”
“You’re worried I’ll destroy your property,” Aden laughed.
“This isn’t very funny,” Nash said. “I bought my laptop with my own money that I made working hard at Lipson. And Sandy gave me my phone because I worked really hard to get caught up in school. And . . . ”
“Okay, okay,” Aden smiled at Nash. “To answer your question: No, I have no plans to mock you in public and take away your property.”
“Oh,” Nash said. “Why?”
“Ask yourself this,” Aden said. “Why haven’t you blocked me or Sandy from your Facebook account?”
“Because you told me you’d delete my account if I did,” Nash said.
“Respect,” Aden said. “You respect me; and I respect you.”
“Riiiiggghhht . . . . but saying all that stuff and complaining isn’t very respectful,” Nash said. “That’s why that guy was so mad. He felt disrespected.”
“Disrespected isn’t a word,” Aden said.
“It’s not?”
“No,” Aden said.
“Oh,” Nash said. “But I still do it.”
“Do what?”
“Write disrespectful stuff on my Facebook page,” Nash said.
“Of course you do,” Aden smiled.
“Of course I do?”
“You’re thirteen,” Aden said. “Thirteen year olds feel burdened by life and responsibility. They complain to their friends about what they have to do. You complain on Facebook. I complained on the telephone.”
“Sandy said she never complained,” Nash said. “I asked her if she complained when she was my age. She said no.”
“Sandy is unique,” Aden said. “Think of her situation. She’d been living with her Dad for three years when she was thirteen. Her life was a lot better than it was before she met him. Would you complain?”
Nash was silent for a moment.
“I didn’t think so,” Aden said.
“Maybe I should be more grateful,” Nash said. “That’s what Melinda’s father says. We kids should be more grateful.”
“Maybe you should be,” Aden said.
“I’m not very grateful.”
“You’re thirteen,” Aden said. “There’s no question things haven’t been super easy for you or Noelle. But you’re just starting your life. You don’t know anything about anything.”
“I know some things.”
“Okay,” Aden said. “Let’s make a deal. When you’re my age, let’s answer the question of how much you know now.”
“You won’t tell Sandy, will you?” Nash asked. “I really love her. A lot. And I’m really glad she’s my Mom. You won’t tell her about my disrespectful Facebook updates, will you? She’ll probably cry and . . . ”
“How do you think I know about them?” Aden smiled. “Sandy checks your page every day. She checks all you kids Facebook pages and your email.”
“My email too?” Nash looked horrified.
“What did you think she would do when you gave her your logins?” Aden asked.
“I should change it,” Nash said.
“Do you trust Sandy?”
“Yes.”
“Do you believe Sandy loves you?”
“Yes.”
“She checks your page and your email to make sure you’re safe,” Aden said. “That’s all.”
“But what about when I disrespected her?”
“You mean, when you complained about her breast feeding Rachel on the living room couch? And all your friends agreed that it was gross? That time?”
“Um.”
“Does she still breastfeed on the couch?”
“Yes.”
“Is it still gross?”
“Yes,” Nash said. “But why . . . ?”
“Because Sandy knows that family-life is filled with things that make us uncomfortable. We complain when we’re uncomfortable. That doesn’t mean anything has to change. It just means that you’re uncomfortable.”
“Oh,” Nash said.
“She’s not going to get mad at you for complaining about the things that make you uncomfortable,” Aden said. “That’s your job as a teenager.”
“I’m kind of an asshole,” Nash said.
“Only kind of,” Aden smiled. “You could be a lot worse.”
“Right, I could be Charlie,” Nash said.
Aden laughed.
“Actually, he’s okay,” Nash said. “And really, everything’s okay. I like having Sissy and Charlie living with us and I love Rachel and Sandy and Noelle and . . . We’re okay.”
“Glad you know that,” Aden smiled. He pulled up to Colin Hargreaves’s house. “Love you Nash.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Nash said and got out of the car.
Laughing, Aden went to get Sissy to take her to dance practice.
~~~~~~~~
Thursday evening — 5:10 p.m.
“Why are we here?” Sissy asked. She was wearing what she called her dance uniform – black tights, a lycra top, sports bra, and a heavy gray cable sweater. “I’m not supposed to be here.”
“Ivan called to ask if you’d meet him here,” Aden said.
“We’re supposed to go to the Castle,” Sissy said. “We’re supposed to dance today. I have to dance today. I’m way behind and . . . ”
Aden pulled up to the loading zone on Fourteenth Avenue.
“Why are you stopping?” Sissy’s voice screeched with anxiety. “Why are you stopping?”
“Because Ivan is standing right there?” Aden asked. “Next to the building.”
“Why are we here?” Sissy’s face was a mask of panic.
Aden put his hands on her shoulders.
“Listen to me,” Aden said. “Sissy, look at me.”
With her mind spinning stories of her worst fears, Sissy’s eyes glazed over.
“Did you eat your lunch?” Aden asked.
Sissy nodded.
“Snack?”
“I have it with me,” Sissy said.
“Let’s have it now,” Aden said. “We’ll eat our snack, take a few breaths, and go meet our friend Ivan.”
Aden leaned across her and opened the glove box. He nodded his head toward the box. Sissy looked over at the glove box. There was a pink napkin wrapped around something in the box. Sissy took it out and opened the napkin. Inside, there was a sugar cookie in the shape of a ballerina. Sissy smiled and bit the head off the girl.
“Good luck cookie from Sandy,” Sissy said. Flecks of crumbs flew out of her mouth. Aden held out a carton of milk. “Thanks.”
Sissy ate the ballerina’s feet and then her arms.
“I can never resist these. Sandy’s made them for me all my life. But, wait.” Sissy finished the last bite. “Why do I need luck?”
Aden held out the protein bar that was her snack. Sissy opened it and took a bite.
“Ivan will tell you,” Aden said.
“I hope it’s not anything bad,” Sissy opened her mouth to show Aden she’d eaten her protein bar. Aden nodded.
“It’s something really neat,” Aden said. “Sandy will be here as soon as she finishes.”
“And everybody else?” Sissy asked.
“They’re waiting for you at home,” Aden said. “Sandy thought you might like it if she came alone.”
“Ok,” Sissy hugged Aden. “Thanks for the ride and the cookie and . . . ”
Sissy turned to open the door.
“Do I have to go?” Panic returned to Sissy’s voice.
“No, you don’t have to go,” Aden said. “But, as scary as it is, you’ll be really glad you did.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Aden said.
“Okay,” Sissy said. “Can you come with me?”
“Sure,” Aden said. “But we talked it over and Sandy and I think you’ll want Ivan to be there with you.”
>
“Okay,” Sissy said.
She hugged him again and got out of the car. She waved and he drove off. Ivan met her near the stairs.
“Did you eat?” Ivan asked.
“I just had my snack,” Sissy said.
“Good,” Ivan said. “That’s good. Come on. We have a very special treat.”
Ivan took Sissy’s elbow and they went up the stairs.
“You will be polite,” Ivan said in her ear. “You will do exactly what you’re asked to do.”
Having heard this speech before, Sissy nodded.
“You will do your very best no matter what,” Ivan said.
“And I won’t embarrass you,” Sissy smiled at him.
“You never do,” Ivan said. “Come on.”
They entered the Ellie Caukins Opera House. Sissy was so nervous that she had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Ivan opened the door to the auditorium and Sissy stepped inside. Terrified he would leave her, she flipped around. He smiled and came in after her. He touched her shoulder and took her arm again.
Sissy turned and looked up at the stage. A woman was standing under a stage light. She was small, short really, and had darkish skin as if she was Hispanic or maybe African American. She wore her long hair in a ponytail.
“Who’s that?” Sissy whispered.
Ivan nodded toward the stage and Sissy turned back. The woman was muscular and curvy. Self conscious, Sissy put her hand to her own growing breasts. The woman went through a few warm up dance moves.
“She’s really good,” Sissy said. “But . . . she . . . ”
“She’s a soloist,” Ivan said. “She came all this way to dance with you, Sissy.”
“But she’s not tall or skinny and she has big . . . ” Sissy pointed to her chest.
“Doesn’t seem like that mattered to the American Ballet Theater,” Ivan said. “Your friend Tanesha’s father arranged all of this. This dancer is here to see you.”
Ivan took her arm and escorted her to the steps leading to the stage.
“Go, little bird,” Ivan said. “This is your chance to fly.”
He gave Sissy a little push and she went up the stairs.
“Hi,” Sissy was so nervous her voice came out as a croak. “I’m Sissy.”
“Misty,” the woman turned and gave her a big smile. “Would you like to dance?”
~~~~~~~~
Thursday evening — 6:10 p.m.
“Tanesha?” Gran opened the front door.
Tanesha’s eyes were swollen from crying. Her lips were dry and red. The clothing Jeraine had forced on her was slightly twisted and her hair wasn’t combed.
“Oh Gran,” Tanesha walked into her Grandmother’s arms and began to cry.
“What did you do?” Gran asked Jeraine over her shoulder.
“Wasn’t me,” Jeraine said.
Her Gran gave him a dangerous, angry look.
“I swear,” Jeraine said. “It wasn’t me.”
Tanesha’s grandmother guided Tanesha into the living room. Tanesha never lifted her head from her grandmother’s shoulder. They sat her down on the couch.
“Get us some water,” Gran commanded.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jeraine said.
He trotted into the kitchen to get a couple of glasses of water. When he returned, Tanesha was weeping with her head on her grandmother’s lap. Gran took the glasses. She set hers down on the side table and convinced Tanesha to drink some water. Tanesha had a drink and buried herself in her grandmother’s lap again.
“What is it that you didn’t do that has my baby so upset?” Gran gave Jeraine a hard look.
“It wasn’t me,” Jeraine said.
“Right,” Gran said. “This one time in all the billions of times she’s cried her eyes out over you; this time you didn’t do anything.”
“It was you.”
“You better watch yourself,” Gran said. “I don’t have any problem throwing your behind on the street and changing the locks.”
“Tell her, Tanesha,” he said.
“Tell me what?”
“Tell her what you see when you close your eyes,” Jeraine said.
“What’s that fool talking about?” Gran smoothed Tanesha’s hair away from her face.
“Tell her what you see,” Jeraine said.
“Would you shut up?” Gran said to Jeraine. “The girl needs some air.”
He held up his hands and backed into the dining room.
“What is it, baby?” Gran said.
“I see . . . I see . . . blood . . . everywhere . . . and this tattoo.” Tanesha sat up and made a crescent around her belly button. “It says Forever, in green script, but I think it says Forever Miss T. And someone’s crying and . . . ”
“Oh.” Gran said.
“That’s it? That’s all you got?” Jeraine asked. “Your baby’s been crying her eyes out since last night. She barely makes sense. She won’t eat or sleep or . . . And all you can say is ‘Oh’?”
Gran gave Jeraine a dark look and Tanesha lay back down with her head in her lap.
“Tell me again,” Gran said. “What do you see?”
“I see blood . . . ”
“Everywhere,” Rodney Smith stepped into the living room. “And a crescent tattoo that says Forever.”
Tanesha and Gran looked up at him. He nodded to Jeraine.
“It’s time,” Rodney Smith said.
“But . . . ” Gran said.
“No more buts,” Rodney Smith said. “It’s time to tell Tanesha the truth.”
Chapter One Hundred and Ninety-Seven
Yesterday
Thursday evening — 6:25 p.m.
“Go ahead,” Gran raised an eyebrow in challenge. “You tell her the truth.”
“It’s your story,” Rodney Smith said. “I wasn’t even there.”
“This is private business,” Gran said. “If we have to tell the story, then we tell Tanesha alone.”
“Oh no.” Jeraine walked to stand between Rodney Smith and Gran. “You are not doing this. Not today. Uh huh. No way.”
Shocked by his tone of voice, they stared at him. Tanesha sat up from her Gran’s lap.
“What are you talking about?” Gran asked.
“All this mess, all of it, Tanesha has had to live with it festering inside her,” Jeraine said. “While you’ve kept your secrets locked behind your closed lips, the rest of us have to deal with it like it’s a member of the family.”
Gran flushed. She looked away from him.
“You want to tell your story. Good for you,” Jeraine said. “But you’re going to tell her where she’s safe and surrounded by the people who have lived with your secrets, the people who’ve loved her through it.”
“Are you saying I don’t love my daughter?” Rodney Smith asked.
“He’s a fool,” Gran said.
“No,” Tanesha’s voice cracked. She swallowed hard. “He’s right. He and I . . . We live with this, whatever it is, every day. I can’t believe him, commit to him; he feels betrayed and acts out. We live with your secrets like they’re precious antique figurines we step around so we won’t break.”
Her father and grandmother turned to look at her. Tanesha was watching Jeraine.
“Miss T’s girls are waiting for my call,” Jeraine said. “You want to lay out your bullshit? This time you do it when Tanesha has her support team with her.”
“I appreciate your concern, child, but this is not your business,” Gran said.
“I’ll be damned if it’s not,” Jeraine said. “She’s a tiny three year old when this stuff comes up. I’m not going to leave her surrounded by all this toxic waste. I won’t leave that little girl alone with you. There’s no storytelling unless she has us.”
Gran gave him a dark look and looked away. Rodney Smith looked him up and down. The room was painfully quiet. Jeraine caught Tanesha’s eyes and she gave him a soft smile. He was just about to tell her it was time to leave when Rodney Smith shifted in place.
>
“He’s right,” Rodney Smith stepped back. “Call the girls.”
“Rodney . . . ”
“He’s right and you know it,” Rodney Smith said to Gran.
“You want to spread our private business . . . ” Gran started.
“Gran . . . ” Tanesha started.
“They already know,” Rodney Smith said. “They might not know the specifics. They might not know the whens and wheres, but he’s right. They have lived with this as long as they’ve known her. We owe them the truth for being there for Tanesha this whole time.”
Gran scowled and shook her head. Rodney Smith gave her a firm look.
“I’ll do all the talking,” Rodney Smith said.
Gran began to cry.
~~~~~~~~
Thursday evening — 6:25 p.m.
“One, two, three . . . that’s right Sissy,” Ivan said. “Turn, bow . . . yes, Misty, but remember to . . . yes, that’s right.”
Dancing to Ivan’s specifications, Misty and Sissy worked on point. Ivan had put them through an hour of the hardest ballet work Sissy had ever done. She had known this workout would be hard. With Misty here, he made it that much harder.
“You may stop,” Ivan said. “We have a little more than a half hour before the girls arrive. You need to rest and get some nutrition.”
“I just had my snack!” Sissy said.
“I haven’t eaten,” Misty smiled. “Why don’t you come with me to get something? We can talk.”
Sissy smiled and followed her off stage. Ivan gave them each a towel.
“You have a text message from your sister,” Ivan held Sissy’s phone out to her. “I must speak with the others.”
He leaned into Sissy and went through his ‘you will not embarrass me’ speech again in a low voice. Sissy nodded.
“Your sister brought smoothies for you,” Ivan said. “I hope that’s all right with you Miss Copeland. We checked with your people to find out what you liked and . . . ”
“That’s perfect,” Misty smiled.
“Sandy was here?” Sissy asked. “She didn’t stay?”
“Read your text,” Ivan put the phone in her hand, gave a little bow, and left the stage.
Sissy looked down. Her phone said: “Emergency w Tanesha. Sorry Sis. Call if you’re not okay. Wouldn’t go if I didn’t believe you’d shine! Will be there when I can.” Sissy nodded. She was okay and Tanesha never had emergencies. Plus Tanesha’s Dad had set up this chance to dance today! She stood a little straighter. She could do this.
Gold Hill Page 10
