Sitting on the edge of my bed, I set the smoothie on my nightstand and flipped open the phone. Two messages. The first one was from Kylie: “Rae, very important. Call me the instant you get this message. I have something huge to tell you. Huge.” The next message was also Kylie: “Where the hell are you? I’m sorry but I had to tell Mason the news first. I was dying. It’s about Allison. Call me.”
Kylie picked up on the first ring. Instead of the traditional greeting she said, “Where have you been?” Before I could answer she said, “You’ll never guess what I found out about Allison.”
My Allison news would have to wait. I eased myself back so that my head rested on my pillow. “Go ahead. I love gossip.”
“It’s not really gossip.” Her voice softened. “It’s actually pretty sad, and it explains a lot.” She sighed. I could picture her twisting a strand of that soft hair around her finger. “After the bell rang, I went to clean up Allison’s desk. You remember how we were looking at newspapers and magazines?”
“Yeah.”
“I was just going to pick up the stuff on her desk and toss it on the pile up front. I’m not even sure why I looked at it, but I did. She was looking at the daily paper from a few weeks ago, and it was open to an article about her and her family. It was in that column that has news from around the state.”
I sat up. “What did it say?”
“Oh it was so sad, Rae, so sad. It was just a small article, a few paragraphs, really, but it said that her whole house was destroyed by a fire. Her parents were sleeping in a bedroom upstairs and were killed. It said their only child, daughter Allison Daly, age sixteen, was the sole survivor.”
“Oh my God.” I thought about Gina’s words: Would it have killed you to be nice to her? I felt terrible.
“I found another article about it online. It had photos. I sent you the link.”
“Now I feel awful that I wasn’t nicer to her.”
“You were nice to her,” Kylie said, defending me to me. “You showed her around, told her about the school, included her at lunchtime. You did all you could.”
Her words relieved my guilt somewhat. “I guess.” I looked up at the light fixture on the ceiling above my bed. It was a frosted glass bowl with a brass screw-on thingy in the center. Gina said it looked like a breast.
“Plus,” Kylie continued, “you had no way of knowing what she’d been through. We can put more effort into making her feel welcome tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. That reminded me of the sleepover looming later in the week. “Hey, Kylie,” I said, “do you have any plans for Friday night?”
Chapter 12
Black and White and Read All Over
After I hung up with Kylie, I went straight to the computer, which sat on a beat-up desk Gina had acquired from a coworker who was moving. The same person also “gifted us” with a bread maker we’d yet to use and a clothing steamer we used all the time. Gina was a pro at getting something for nothing. Every time we moved, we left behind more than we took. Generally we only moved what we could fit in the car and a Hertz rental trailer. At each new city we started over, my mom scouring secondhand stores and curbside garbage piles for furniture. She was all about the challenge of putting together a new life, while I was the one yearning for what we’d left behind.
The computer was one of the things that always came with us. Gina didn’t use it much at all. She craved human interaction—a metal box didn’t do much for her. Even the TV couldn’t hold her interest for long—before the first commercial she’d get up from the couch to make popcorn or check her voice mail. She was like those flies that spin around in circles on windowsills.
Kylie’s e-mail was among others offering investment opportunities and penile enhancement. I deleted the spam before opening the one from Kylie and clicking on the link. It took me to the site of a small-town newspaper—the Gazette.
Even with Kylie’s forewarning, the photos were a shock to me. Allison was featured in one of them—her freshman yearbook photo, from the look of it. The caption below it read, “Allison Daly, age 16, sole survivor of tragic fire.” Next to her picture was another photo showing the firefighters trying to put out the fire. Even in the black-and-white photo the image was horrifying. Photographed at night, every window glowed against the dark of the sky. Fire haloed over the top of the roof and smoke surrounded the house like dark spirits in a horror movie.
A fire at 612 Magnolia Drive has claimed the lives of Steven and Tammy Daly, who were sleeping in an upstairs bedroom at the time. Their 16-year-old daughter, Allison Daly, the sole survivor of the fire, was found wandering disoriented in the adjacent woods. She was admitted to Memorial Hospital and treated for shock.
A neighbor, Jim Benson, driving home from a dart tournament, called 911 after spotting flames coming from the residence. Southfield firefighters were assisted by volunteers in fighting the fire, which broke out at approximately 3 a.m. Sunday, destroying the home, with an estimated $175,000 in damage. The cause is speculated to be a candle left burning on a wicker table on the front porch, according to Fire Marshall Fred Hanks.
At the height of the fire, firefighters were forced to exit as the roof started to collapse, Hanks said. “My men were heroic in their efforts, but we just got there too late. Every one of them was devastated that we weren’t able to save Steve and Tammy,” he said. “You couldn’t find a nicer couple. This is a small community, and we’re like family. It’s just so tragic.”
Funeral arrangements for the couple are undetermined at this time.
A link to a new page took me to a companion article headed by a photo of Allison’s parents. They looked nice, really nice. He had his arm around her, and they both wore sunglasses and were laughing. A vacation photo, maybe? The article below the picture was a tribute to the Dalys. Their pastor said Steve was fond of telling how he met Tammy as a high school freshman. According to the pastor, Steve said that the minute he laid eyes on Tammy, he knew there was no other girl for him. I wondered how that felt, to know something like that instantly. Here I had trouble predicting which line would be fastest at the grocery store. The idea of picking a life partner by sight was beyond my comprehension.
The article said the couple was involved in their church: Tammy sang in the choir, and Steve was the treasurer. They took pride in their home and were always willing to lend a hand to neighbors, friends, and family. A few friends were quoted as saying that Steve loved to grill and have friends over, and Tammy used to be a Girl Scout leader. For Allison’s troop, I wondered? The article didn’t say.
In fact, Allison wasn’t mentioned at all, except for one line at the bottom: “The couple is survived by their only child, daughter Allison Marie, a sophomore at Eisenhower High School.”
I went back to the first article, the one describing the fire, and read it over and over again. Each time I felt a little sicker. I thought of Allison wandering dazed and confused, watching her house engulfed in flames from a neighboring field. Had she staggered out of the house thinking her parents had already escaped? I tried to imagine the acrid smell of smoke, the panic she must have felt.
I thought of how I’d feel if I lost Gina, and tears came to my eyes. Oh, I didn’t want to feel this way. I wondered how Allison could stand it.
I wished I could rewind and do the day over again. I’d spent every minute of our day together wishing I could shake Allison off. I’d been mean, so mean, maybe not in the way I was acting, but in what I’d been thinking. I hoped it didn’t show too much.
I thought too about what Gina said, how none of the relatives wanted Allison. That Blake’s family took her in, but only reluctantly. How selfish was that? They had that big house and a housekeeper and everything and couldn’t be bothered? And what was with Blake and his attitude? You’d think he’d be nice to his cousin, considering everything she’d been through.
I looked at the photo of Allison and searched her face. It wasn’t a typical school picture. She wasn’t even trying to smile, and her head was
tilted down with her hair curtaining her face. Her expression was odd too, almost a little angry. No, not angry—more defiant, like she was determined not to cooperate with the photographer.
I stared at the photo and tried to remember where I’d seen that expression. Something about it was so familiar, like from a movie. No, not a movie. Where had I seen that look before? I concentrated. How frustrating not to be able to put my finger on it.
And then suddenly my mind put all the fragments together. Like kaleidoscope pieces they shifted in my memory, starting with the photo on my computer screen and going back to Allison sitting at the kitchen table with Gina. And before that, seeing Allison in Mr. Smedley’s office, bored and remote. And coming finally into focus, that same expression from a distance, staring at me from behind a chain-link fence at the Mental Health Unit for Children and Adolescents, urging me to keep moving.
Allison was Paranoid Girl.
Chapter 13
And Then Again, Maybe Not
When I got up the next morning, Gina was already sitting at the kitchen table, her hands around a mug. A plume of smoke rose from a cigarette on a nearby ashtray, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the room. Why is it that coffee smells so good, yet tastes like crap? “Morning, sunshine,” she said, turning to me with a smile.
“Kind of early for you, isn’t it?” I asked. My mom was not a morning person. For years she’d staggered out of bed to see me off in the morning, but she never hid the fact that she found it painful. One day, in the middle of eighth grade, her birthday in fact, I released her from that obligation as a sort of gift from me. Truthfully, I liked having solitary time in the morning to eat, go online, and double-check my backpack. And she appreciated the extra sleep. I usually went into her room to say good-bye, but most of the time she didn’t even remember me doing it.
Today was completely abnormal. Not only was she up, she was already dressed and ready for the day—her curly hair smoothed down and makeup perfectly done. She looked a little tired, but otherwise good.
“I didn’t sleep very well,” she said. “After you told me about Allison last night, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. That poor girl! Her house burns down and her parents die and then she gets put in a mental institution?” Gina shook her head and tapped her cigarette against the side of the ashtray. I crossed the room to open the window a crack. The early morning October air had a bite to it, but it smelled fresh and crisp, like dew on leaves.
“It had to be horrible,” I agreed. I got the milk out of the refrigerator and sat down to my place where a bowl, spoon, and my box of Lucky Charms sat waiting.
“I just keep imagining her in that terrible place. No one deserves that.” She shook her head. “You have to find out how she wound up there. Did her aunt and uncle have her committed, or what? I’d love to know.”
“I wasn’t really planning on bringing it up,” I said. “At least not right away. I don’t really know her that well, and it’s kind of personal, don’t you think?” Truthfully, I wasn’t sure how I’d bring up the subject, if I ever did. What would I say? By the way, I just happened to remember that you’re the one I spotted at the mental health unit two weeks ago? Yeah, that would go over well.
Maybe if Allison hadn’t been so indifferent to me yesterday it would be easier to connect with her. Despite the fact that she’d singled me out in the lunchroom, she didn’t radiate goodwill in my direction. Things might get better with time, but I wasn’t counting on it.
Gina took a drag from her cigarette. “I guess asking at school isn’t such a good idea. Maybe when she’s here for the sleepover?”
“Maybe,” I said, pouring my cereal and then adding milk. “We’ll see.” I was starting to regret telling Gina my findings about Allison. She was taking it too much to heart.
“I have something for you to give her.” Her forehead furrowed, and she reached down to the floor, lifting a filled plastic grocery bag the size of a throw pillow onto the table. It was sealed shut with clear tape.
“What is it?”
“Clothes.” Seeing my questioning look, Gina said, “Allison told me that she didn’t bring anything with her when she moved to her uncle’s house. She’s been wearing her aunt’s things.”
Well that would explain the middle-aged soccer mom look.
“Her aunt promised to take her shopping soon, when she’s not,” here she made finger quotes, “so busy.”
“Where did you get the clothes?”
“They’re yours.”
“Hey!”
“Don’t worry,” she said, grinning. “It’s stuff you don’t want. Those two pairs of jeans Grandma got you from the Gap, the ones that never fit right, and some tops that aren’t black. I promise you, I didn’t put anything in there you’d ever wear.”
So that’s how Allison went from standing out in the halls of Whitman High School to blending right in. I handed her the package first hour right after the bell rang. I had my doubts she’d even take it, frankly. I envisioned her rejecting it right off—saying she wasn’t a pity case, or telling me that she actually liked dressing like she was forty-six. In my imaginings she threw the bag back in my face.
But she proved me wrong. I gave her the clothes, still sealed in plastic, and said, “My mom said to give you this.” She looked suspicious, but opened it anyway. When she saw what was inside, she got a big smile on her face. It was the first time I’d seen anything resembling happiness. “They were mine, but I never wore them,” I said.
“Okay,” she said, nodding, and then she asked the teacher for a hall pass to go to the bathroom. Maybe part of her eagerness was due to what she was wearing: tan corduroy pants and a chocolate-colored turtleneck. The perfect ensemble for a luncheon with the Garden Club, but again, not so good for a high school sophomore.
When she came back, she had on my jeans, the ones I’d never quite liked. They fit her perfectly, none of the butt sagging I’d experienced. The shirt she’d chosen was a light blue V-necked tee, made to look like it had a lacy thingy underneath. Gina had gotten several of these cutesy tops from a coworker who’d cleaned out her closet and thought they’d be perfect for me. They were not. I knew as soon as Gina had brought them home there was no way I’d ever wear them, but on Allison the combination looked sort of good, and I got that sinking feeling you get when you give something away and then later wish you could take it back.
“Thanks, Rae, and tell your mom thanks too,” Allison whispered. She crammed the package on the shelf under her seat next to her hideous patent leather purse. Today the purse held notebooks, folders, pens, and a calculator—the senior citizen version of a backpack. Maybe when her aunt’s schedule eased up she could take her shopping for a new bag.
During the next two days, Allison opened up a little. At least she wasn’t rude to me and listened when I talked. In class and at lunch she seemed to take part in things. Still, even though she was generally right next to me, I couldn’t shake the feeling she wasn’t quite there.
“Allison fits right in, don’t you think?” Kylie asked on the phone one day after school.
“I guess.”
“I give her a lot of credit, considering all she’s been through.”
“Yeah,” I said. I had to give Allison that much—she’d lost her parents and her former life and yet gave no outward sign of any trauma. No public tears, no rage at the world. In the same situation, I’d be curled up like an embryo.
“I told her I admired how she was doing and said if she wanted to talk we’d be there for her.”
“Wait a minute, you told her we knew about the fire?”
“I didn’t say it like that—no, I just said I knew she’d been through a terrible time and that she was coping a lot better than I would. I said she could consider us friends she could talk to, if she needed someone to confide in.”
“What did she say?”
“She just nodded and kind of gave me this sad smile. I think she appreciated that I brought it out in the open.
I thought it was better that way. No secrets.”
Thank God for Kylie. Clearly Allison needed all the support she could get, and Kylie was so good at that. Yes, she was just the right person to help a girl with emotional issues. They’d be friends long after I’d moved on.
Chapter 14
Tell Me a Secret
Our Friday night sleepover started with the arrival of Kylie carrying a Nike duffle bag almost as big as she was. Her dad came to the door with her and introduced himself to my mom, and then he gave Gina one of those real firm, serious handshakes. He was tall, more than six feet tall I’d guess, but he had the same sort of look as Kylie—big eyes and curly hair. Anyone could see at a glance they were father and daughter.
Kylie’s dad gave her a big hug and kissed her forehead before he left. The kiss was extreme, he even made one of those “mwuh” noises, but Kylie wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. She just laughed and hugged him back. It was kind of weird. Later I said, “Does he always do that loud kiss thing?”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “God, yes. It’s this thing he started at bedtime when I was little. He called it a magic kiss and told me it would keep bad dreams away. The funny thing is that I really think it works because I’ve never had nightmares.” I must have had a funny look on my face because she added, “I’m sort of special to him. My mother calls it the only daughter syndrome. It really irritates my brothers—they say he favors me.”
I always felt an empty twinge when girls said things like that. I wondered if I was some man’s only daughter. And if that man even cared. If you were a guy who had a child out in the world, wouldn’t you want to know how they’re doing? Gina always bristled when I asked about my dad. She’d say things like, “I’ll tell you about him when you’re an adult,” or “He’s chosen not to be involved.” I always felt like saying, What about me? Don’t I get a choice in the matter? But I never said it. I could tell by the look on my mother’s face when the conversation was over.
Life On Hold Page 6
