cost would easily be three times as expensive as an
off-the-rack dress, but once again, Daddy surrendered
before any battle and to my surprise, put away his
famous measurement of "What's the bottom line?"
This time, there was no bottom line.
I had to admit Belinda looked beautiful
graduation day. It was a perfect afternoon for an
outdoor graduation ceremony, too. A gentle, warm
breeze came in from the ocean, and the sky was
turquoise with puffs of clouds moving imperceptibly
across the horizon.
It had been decided that Belinda would attend
the same finishing school I had attended, only she
would go immediately and start with their summer
session. Daddy thought it was wise to get her away as
quickly as he could, and get her into formal training to
make her more of a lady. His intentions were clear: he
wanted her to be a prize for the right young man. My graduation couldn't be held outside. It had
occurred on a rainy day. The auditorium was stuffy
and very uncomfortable with dozens of small children
crying, flashbulbs going off everywhere, proud parents and grandparents waving and gaping like visitors at a zoo. I had felt like a caged animal, squeezed in with my classmates, waiting for the
speeches to end.
Belinda's graduation was more like a grand
picnic.
Streamers and balloons decorated the grounds.
Sunshine made everyone look bright and alive, full of
happiness. Young children could go off and play, out
of the way of the adults. The "Pomp and
Circumstance" march flowed melodiously through the
warm air. Everyone rose and the graduates, all
looking cheerful and excited, came down the aisle to
take their seats on the platform.
Maybe because it wasn't my graduation, it also
seemed to go a lot more smoothly. The speeches
weren't as long and before we knew it, they were
handing out the diplomas. Daddy surprised me with
his excitement, behaving just like all the other proud
fathers, rushing down the aisle to take a picture of
Belinda accepting her diploma. When I graduated, he
relied on the professional group photographer and
never moved from his seat. Belinda took her diploma
with her usual flair, practically spinning completely to
beam a smile in his direction.
"Thank heavens," Mother muttered beside me.
"I had my fears."
Afterward, we celebrated at the Clam and
Claw, a seafood restaurant near the Point. Daddy
invited some of his business associates to join us and
pretty quickly into the celebration, I saw that Belinda
was getting bored. She exploded with happiness as
soon as Peter Wilkes appeared at the restaurant. "Oh, good," she said as he approached. "I
thought I would die of boredom."
"What's this?" Daddy said interrupting his
conversation to look up at Peter.
"I guess I'm a little early," Peter said. "That's all right. Isn't it, Daddy?" Belinda
followed with exuberance.
Daddy smiled with embarrassment at his
guests. "Well . . . you haven't finished your meal yet,
Belinda."
"Oh, I can't eat anymore, Daddy."
"Where are you going?" I asked when she
stood.
"To the beach party, silly. Remember? Daddy
said it was all right," she added.
I looked at Daddy. His eyes met mine and then
slipped away quickly.
"Well, now you get home early, Belinda.
Graduation or no graduation . ."
"Oh, Winston, don't be an ogre," Mr. Collins
said. He was one of Daddy's business partners. "A
young girl graduates high school only once." "Thank heavens for that," Mother said and
everyone at the table but me laughed.
Belinda rushed around the table to give
everyone a hug and a kiss. She even stopped to throw
her arms around me.
"Thank you, big sister," she said. "I love the
suitcase."
I had given her a quality piece of luggage for
her trip to finishing school. It was a practical gift, one
of the few she had received.
Peter gave me a weak smile and hurried along
as Belinda tugged on his hand.
"Bye," he called.
I gazed at Daddy. He watched, them go, looked
at me, and then turned to talk to Mr. Collins. We left the restaurant a little over an hour later.
The night proved to be as beautiful as the day. It was
actually balmy. I looked out toward the ocean as we
drove home and thought how wonderful it must be to
be at a beach party right now. A nearly cloudless sky revealed so many more stars. The Big Dipper never
looked as clear or sharp.
When we arrived at home, I went directly to my
room. All I wanted to do was fall asleep, fall asleep
and forget, fall asleep and dream I was someone else,
someplace else. It took me a long time because I
tossed and turned, lying there at times with my eyes
wide open. Sleep was behind a locked door and not
ready to embrace me.
You have to suffer first, I thought. You have to
suffer with your loneliness.
I finally fell asleep only to be woken by a
gentle and then loud knock on my door. At first I
thought it was part of a dream. Then I sat up and
heard it again.
"Yes?"
Daddy poked his head between the door and
jamb. "I hate to bother you, Olivia, but . . . well, your
mother's worried, too."
"Worried? Why?"
"It's nearly three in the morning and Belinda
has not come home."
"That never worried you before," I said sharply.
He hesitated.
"Yes, well, considering what happened . ." "We aren't supposed to talk about it, Daddy," I
snapped. I wasn't feeling very charitable.
"Please, Olivia."
"What do you want me to do, Daddy?" "Could you go look for her?"
"At the beach?"
"Yes," he said. "We don't want her to get into
any more trouble."
"I can't believe she would do anything like that,
Daddy," I said. He remained in the doorway. "I'm more worried about your mother," he said.
"All right," I said. "I'll go find her."
"Thank you, Olivia."
I rose and put on a pair of slacks and a sweater.
I grabbed my light jacket on the way out and hurried
down the corridor and stairs, driven mostly by anger.
How could she be so insensitive and selfish? She
knew what Daddy and Mother had suffered. No
matter how generous and forgiving they were, Belinda
always took advantage.
I got into my car and headed for the beach road
I knew they had taken. There was one area on the east
end that the school kids always favored, even before
my day. Sure enough, as I started down the road, I
saw cars were still parked there. This was going to be
an all-nighter.
I found a space and parked and then plodded
over the sandy beach toward one of the bonfires. I
heard laughter to my right and radio music caught in
the wind. It whipped at my hair and spit some sand
into my face. The ocean roared in on a line of
whitecaps.
I saw couples wrapped in blankets around the
fire, but none of the girls was Belinda. They gazed up
at me curiously. Some even had bottles of whiskey
and wine.
I continued toward the next bonfire, my anger
boiling over like a pan of hot milk. Once again, I did
not see Belinda, but I did recognize Marcia Gleason
and Arnold Miller. Arnold nearly jumped out of his
blanket when he saw me bearing down on them. "Where's my sister?" I demanded.
"Belinda?" he said stupidly, sitting up slowly. I
could see Marcia was topless under the blanket. "No, my other ten sisters. Of course, Belinda.
Where is she?"
"I'm not sure . ."
"Someone is going to get into a lot of trouble if
I don't find her within the next minute," I threatened.
"Do your parents know where you are and what you're
doing right now, Marcia?" I asked pointedly. "I thought she went home," Marcia whined.
"The last time I saw her she was going for a walk with
Quin over the hill," she added, nodding toward the
bank behind them. I glared down at her a moment. "I hope I don't have to come back," I said and
started toward the small rise in the beach. I heard
Arnold chastising Marcia for telling me anything. For a long moment after I reached the peak of
the small hill, I saw nothing. Then, I caught a
movement to my right and spotted two heads popping
out of a sleeping bag. I drew closer. The movement
within the bag was not hard to translate. It brought the
blood to my face.
"Belinda!" I screamed, but my voice was
carried off by the wind. I screamed it again as I
approached and finally, they both stopped and
hesitated. I called her again.
"Olivia?" I heard her say.
"Damn you," I cried and they scurried like rats,
Quin groping for his clothing on the sand. He was
pulling up his pants by the time I stepped up beside
them. Belinda hadn't moved. "How can you be doing
this?" I demanded.
"We were just . . ." Quin scrambled for his sneakers. "I know what you were just doing, Quin
Lothar," I said.
"I gotta go. It's late," he said and lunged to his
feet, not taking the time to put on his sneakers. In a
moment he had disappeared into the darkness. Belinda whimpered.
"You ruined my graduation night," she said
through her sobs.
"I ruined . . Do you know Mother and Daddy
are beside themselves with worry and now that I've
come for you and have seen what you were doing,
they had every reason to worry. How could you do
this after what's happened?" I asked, my voice filled
with amazement. Was there no bottom to Belinda's
descent?
"We were being careful," she said.
"Oh, that's a relief to know. Do you just jump
into anyone's sleeping bag on the beach, Belinda?" "No. It's graduation night!" she declared as
though that was a license to lose all morality. "Just put your clothes on and come home with
me immediately," I said.
"But everyone is staying out all night." "Daddy sent me to get you," I declared to
impress her. She didn't move. "Belinda, I'm not going
home without you."
"This is horrible," she cried. "You were happy
to come get me. You don't want me to have a good
time because you never do."
"If this is what you call having a good time,
you're right," I snapped back. "Just get dressed.
Now!"
She got out of the sleeping bag and began to put
on her clothes. I couldn't watch her. It filled me with
too much disgust. Instead, I turned away and looked
toward the sound of the ocean.
Was she right? Did I come here to get her
because I was jealous? If I had met someone to whom
I was attracted in high school and who was attracted
to me, would I have been on the beach too?
Something inside me told me no, I would have
been more sensible, but at the moment, that didn't
make me feel better or superior. It put a rock of
sadness into the bottom of my stomach.
Belinda sulked as we trekked over the beach
toward the car. The music followed us along with the
laughter.
"I'm not going to be around all the time to save
you from yourself, Belinda," I told her when we
reached the car.
"Good," she fired back.
She was fuming all the way home. After we
entered the house, she marched up the stairs and
slammed the door to her room. Daddy came out. "She all right?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. I decided not to give him any of
the gritty details. He didn't seem to want to hear them
anyway.
"Thank you, Olivia," he said. "You're the
strength, the steel spine of this family. You always
will be," he added with a nod. It was as if he had
declared me heir to his throne, whether I wanted it or
not.
It was who I was to be.
I fell asleep dreaming about that sleeping bag
we had left empty on the beach.
3
A Wolf in
Sheep's Clothing
.
For a while I thought Belinda wouldn't attend
the finishing school or that Daddy would give in to her and postpone it until the fall. A few times, he tottered on the brink of caving in to her pleas. She tried desperately to get him to do so, moaning and groaning about not having the summer free to enjoy with her friends.
When Daddy vacillated, I helped prop him up again.
"You know she needs it more than ever, Daddy. It was your good idea. Don't let her pull the wool over your eyes. She'll be more than a handful for all of us if she has nothing whatsoever to do with her time," I reminded him. He pressed his lips together and held tight, but Belinda didn't give up.
"Who goes to school in the summer? Only people who have failed classes. I didn't fail any classes," she wailed, choosing to make our dinner hour as unpleasant as she could every night until she got her way.
"It won't be like going to school, Belinda," Mother told her. "It's a special school with beautiful grounds and dormitories, isn't it, Olivia?"
"Yes," I said, "with the finest facilities and some of the best teachers."
"It's still a school. I still have to be in stuffy classrooms while the sun is out and my friends are sailing and having fun back here, don't I?" Belinda moaned. She pouted, refused to eat, stomped about the house, sulked and made everyone else miserable as her day of departure closed in on her.
All during the week before she left, Belinda insisted on having her boyfriends and girlfriends come to the house and bid her good-bye as though she were off to war and they all might not see her ever again. Every time someone left, she was in tears.
"No one will write me or call. They all say they will, but they won't. They'll forget me quickly," she complained through her sobs.
"If that happens, that will show you they weren't very good friends anyway," I told her.
"That's right: Mother echoed.
"Oh . . . poop!" she cried, her face red with frustration, and ran up to her room.
Actually, I enjoyed her last minute antics, enjoye
d her stream of complaints, her sobbing and sulking. From my expression, she saw she could find no sympathy in me, and no matter what she said to Mother, no matter what disaster she predicted, Mother found a silver lining.
"You'll meet new people, make new friends, see interesting new things, learn so much. What an opportunity for you, Belinda, dear. I wish I was young and going off to finishing school, too."
"And I wish I was old and past all this," she fired back with the tears flying off her cheeks.
That made me laugh: Belinda wishing herself old. "You don't know what being old is," I told her. "As soon as you see the first wrinkle on your face, you'll threaten to commit suicide."
"I will not. You're being dreadful to me, Olivia. You'll miss me when I'm gone," she threatened, which only made me laugh harder and make her sulk more.
Finally, the day of her departure arrived. She did little to make herself ready. Carmelita had to pack everything with Mother's supervision. She wouldn't even pack her own toiletries. We were all supposed to go up with her in the limousine, but I managed to get out of the trip. Daddy was disappointed. No one could handle Belinda in our family as well as I could; however, I was determined not to sit in a car for hours and hear her whine about how cruel we were all being to her.
She put on an award performance when Daddy told her to come out and get in the car. She stood on the walkway and looked back at me, her eyes filled with tears.
"Good-bye, Olivia," she said with her hands clutched at her heart. "Good-bye house. Good-bye good times and childhood and being young and having fun. They're turning me over to ogres and teachers with whips in their eyes who will make me feel like some sort of mistake. I'll have no one to go to for help either when I'm tired or lonely." She paused and looked at me. "Stop smiling, Olivia. You know I'm not exaggerating. You were there. You know what it's like."
"Belinda, you will stop being spoiled, if that's what you mean, and for once, you might have to consider someone else's feelings before you consider your own," I said.
"You're just being mean as can be. I hate you," she spit at me and turned to the car, but before she got in, she looked back at me. "Please call me, Olivia. Call me tonight. Please," she pleaded.
"I'll call you," I promised. "Now stop being a spoiled brat and make things easier for everyone," I ordered.
She sucked in her sobs, took one deep breath like someone going under water, and got into the car. I had to smile. Maybe I would miss her, I thought, but I hoped she would change a little, grow up just a little, and do just what I said: make life easier for us all.
A deceptive period of calm did follow Belinda's departure. Daddy and I were busy with his companies. Belinda called and cried over the telephone for a few days and then gave up. It looked like we might have an uneventful summer after all.
Logan 05 Olivia Page 5
