Early Spring 01 Broken Flower

by V. C. Andrews

  embarrassing to me.

  "Blood came out of you? Where?" I shook my head and turned away.

  "Precocious," he repeated to himself. I thought he would turn and walk out of the room, but he surprised me by sitting on the floor beside me and folding his legs. He looked very excited and even more interested now. ''Did they tell you why the blood came out of you?"

  I shook my head. They hadn't really. There was just that long word Mama used. She had yet to explain it and for some reason didn't want to.

  "Did they tell you that you had a period?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "Holy schmoly," Ian said, which was his favorite expression for something amazing to him. "You had a period. You menstruated," he said, and I widened my eyes. How did he know so much? In any case, from the expression on his face. I realized I was suddenly amazing, to him, maybe as amazing as any of the creatures he studied or experiments he performed.

  "Yes, that's it," I said.

  "Of course. That's why they used precocious. You're just going on seven," he said, but more to himself than to me. "What else did the doctor do?" he asked, drawing himself closer. "Tell me everything."

  I was embarrassed about the way Dr. Dell'Acqua had looked between my legs so I skipped that and told him about the special X-ray. I described the machinery and how nice everyone was to me.

  "You had a CAT scan?"

  "Yes," I said, now remembering what it was called.

  "Holy schmoly." He thought a moment more and then he stood up quickly. "If they gave you a CAT scan, they were looking for an abnormality, probably cerebral. I'll research it all up on my computer," he declared with great excitement. I couldn't remember ever seeing him as happy about anything that involved me. "I'll know all about it in minutes. Hang in there."

  Actually, I was glad Ian would do that. I knew he would eventually tell me more than either Mama or Dr. Dell'Acqua had told me. He walked out quickly, but a moment later, he walked back into my room to tell me he could hear Mama crying in her room.

  "You'd better go see if she's crying about you," he said. "Maybe she heard something from the doctor already."

  My heart started to pound so fast and hard. I couldn't get up. If Mama was crying because she heard something from the doctor about me, then it wasn't good.

  "Go on," Ian ordered. "And then come to my room to tell me everything she says. I'll be on my computer. I know just where to look for information about all this." He marched out again.

  I stood up slowly, sucked in my breath, and walked out cautiously. Even though Grandmother Emma hadn't been here when we had returned. I worried she was here now and spying on us or had Nancy doing so. Daddy was always so sure Grandmother Emma could find out anything she wanted about us. Ian once said he thought she had little microphones hidden in our rooms and listened in to our conversations. Mama told him not to be ridiculous, but it wasn't often Ian was ever ridiculous about anything.

  I walked to her bedroom and listened carefully at the doorway. He was right. She was sobbing. I knocked on her door and she stopped.

  "Who is it?"

  "It's me," I said.

  A moment later she opened the door. She had a handkerchief in her hand and was wiping her eyes. "What is it, Jordan? Do you have stomach cramps or something?"

  "No. I heard you crying," I said.

  "Oh. Well, sometimes I can't keep it all locked away. Your father's not coming home tonight."

  Although she tried to make it sound like that was the only reason. I knew that wasn't enough to make her cry. There were many nights he didn't come home and she didn't cry or even seem to care.

  "I told him about you and he still went off to do whatever it is he does," she added angrily.

  Was I supposed to be angry at Daddy, too, for not being concerned about me? Should I cry?

  "It's nothing," she added when she saw my face. "It's adult talk," which was what she usually said when she didn't want me to know why she and Daddy were fighting. "I'll be fine. Don't worry. Just wash up, brush your hair, and put on your pink and blue dress for dinner tonight.' she said. "Make sure Ian's not late again for dinner, too, please."

  I wondered if I should let her know that I had told Ian, but then I thought it might make her sadder still and she was crying enough as it was

  "Okay," I said, and left, relieved at least that she wasn't crying because of something terrible that Dr. Dell'Acqua had said about me.

  I went to Ian's room. He was at his computer as he said he would be. He didn't have to turn around to know I had entered his room. He kept his eyes on his monitor screen and asked, "Why is she crying?"

  "Adult talk," I said.

  He turned and squinted. "Why?"

  "Daddy's not coming home tonight. I think they had an argument."

  "Was he with you and Mother at the doctor's office?"

  "No."

  He smiled and shook his head. "Why am I not surprised?" he asked himself. "Okay. Forget about all that now. I'm learning about your problem. I'll tell you about it later," he said. "Don't bother me right now." He waved at me to shoo me off.

  "Mama wants me to get ready for dinner and she said to tell you not to be late again, Ian. Grandmother Emma will be upset.'

  He didn't answer.

  "She said you can't be late."

  "I won't," he said. I knew that I could talk and talk and even stand on my head and talk, but he wouldn't answer me anymore or turn away from his computer so I left to do what Mama had asked.

  For my birthday last year, my parents had bought me a small vanity table and mirror. When Grandmother Emma saw it being delivered, she said it was the most ridiculous birthday present for a sixyear-old she could imagine. At my birthday dinner. Daddy looked surprised about it, too, which made it seem like it was all Mama's doing and fault. I don't know why Grandmother Emma thought it was silly to buy it for me. I loved having it. I often watched my mother at her vanity table doing her makeup or brushing her hair, sometimes for hours when we lived in our own house. I used to ask her questions about her makeup, the creams and the shampoos she used. She did it here, too, during the first few months, and then she did it so infrequently or for so short a time. I rarely watched her anymore. But even though all I could do was brush my hair, I loved imitating her in front of my own vanity mirror.

  A few times at our house, she let me put on lipstick and nail polish, too, but she would never let me do any of that here. She said Grandmother Emma would have a tantrum and only make us feel terrible. When I complained about it, Grandmother Emma told me her mother didn't permit her to wear lipstick or nail polish until she was sixteen. That seemed a long way off, and I did have girlfriends at school whose mothers let them wear nail polish at least.

  I sat brushing my hair, which my mother liked long on me. Grandmother Emma wanted it to be cut and styled, but that was an argument Mama wouldn't lose.

  "I'm not turning, her into a proper little mannequin," she said.

  Daddy tried to get Mama to have my hair cut, too, but she wouldn't budge on it.

  "She pulls your strings. Christopher, not mine," she told him, which started another bad argument.

  After I brushed my hair. I got undressed except for my panties and went into my bathroom to wash up well so Grandmother Emma would have nothing bad to say about me at dinner. While I was washing my face. Ian came to my bathroom door.

  He had reams of paper in his hands.

  I had forgotten my promising Mama to never let anyone else set me undressed. I quickly raised my arms to cover my buds, as she had called them.

  Ian looked at his papers. "Yes, you are suffering from something called precocious puberty, all right. Actually, it's becoming something more and more common. Nearly fifty percent of all black girls and at least fifteen percent of white girls have or would be diagnosed with the condition this year," he continued. "There are various theories about it. One idea is that all the growth hormones in meat and poultry are having an effect on humans."

  I
an could sound just like Mr. Milner, the elementary school principal who also spoke through his nose when he was saying very important things.

  Ian looked up from the papers. "I have noticed how tall you've gotten. In fact, I recall telling Mother not that long ago, but she didn't appear to hear me or care at the time. Since both she and Daddy are tall people, they would just assume it was natural for you to be tall. I'm not tall for my age," he added. "However. I could suddenly grow faster, taller. My shoe size would suggest it.

  I looked at his feet and then at mine, which were not very big or long.

  "The important thing is we'll have to keep track of your development on a nearly daily basis. From what you've told me. Dell'Acqua is following the correct protocol."

  "What's that?"

  "Medical procedure for diagnosing the problem. She'll soon come up with a treatment. I'm glad Mother found out about you quickly."

  It wasn't that quickly. I thought, but didn't say.

  He stared at me and then he walked up to me. "How developed are you?" he asked.

  "You'd better go away, Ian," I said. "Mama will be mad."

  "Don't be silly. I'm your older brother. Let me see," he said. "I'd like to compare you to this picture I brought up on my computer."

  He showed it to me. It did look like my chest. I lowered my arms and he studied me.

  "Holy schmoly," he muttered. "That's not baby fat. I assume you have pubic hair as well."

  I nodded. That's what Mama had called it the night in the bathroom.

  "Don't tell Mama I let you see my chest," I said.

  "Of course I won't," he said, looking insulted that I would even suggest such a thing. "My research and observations are not something anyone else should know about, not even Father or Mother for that matter, much less Grandmother Emma. It will be something kept solely between you and me. Let's both swear to that. Put your right hand over your heart. Go on."

  I did so and so did he.

  "Do you swear never to reveal my research and involvement concerning your condition of precocious puberty?"

  It sounded very official. "yes," I said.

  "So do I and that's that," he said with his characteristic firmness.

  He turned and left my bathroom.

  How amazing, I thought. I had another special secret, this time with Ian, sealed with an official oath. I had never shared anything as important with him as this.

  I didn't know if I should be sad or happy anymore.

  I looked at myself in the mirror again. Ian had been very impressed with my buds. I slowly brought my right finer to my nipple. It wasn't the way Dr. Dell'Acqua had touched me, but it gave me a strange, new feeling, which both frightened and interested me. I had never thought to do that before and I had never felt like this before. My face even reddened.

  I was staring at myself so long and so intently. I didn't hear my mother come into the bathroom and had no idea how long she was standing there.

  "Oh. God," she said. She whimpered like a puppy and I immediately stopped touching myself, but it was too late because she began to cry again.

  I started to cry, too.

  She quickly embraced me. "It's all right, Jordan. It's not wrong for you to be curious about yourself. I was as well when I was growing up. I just can't fathom...can't get myself to accept it so quickly in relation to you. But don't worry. Dr. Dell'Acqua will help us."

  "Okay," I said.

  She didn't know it, but if Dr. Dell'Acqua was unable to help us. Ian surely would.

  5 Whispers on the Stairs

  . Mama rushed me along to get dressed. She seemed to have a need to be as busy as she could. Maybe it kept her from crying. Even though she had stopped at Ian's room to knock on his door and tell him to come down to dinner, he was late again. Grandmother Emma was furious, not only because of Ian, but because Daddy had not come home for dinner either and it was the third night this week,

  "Why isn't he coming home this time?" she asked Mama.

  "You'll have to ask him. I'm tired of making excuses for him."

  "Excuses for him? When a man doesn't come home for dinner as often as Christopher doesn't," she told my mother, "something is sick in his marriage."

  Mama stared at her. I could set something very explosive building in her fact. Her cheeks had turned the shade of crimson like cheeks turn when someone is in a very hot room. Her eyes tightened and it looked like she had stopped breathing. I glanced at

  Grandmother Emma and saw that even she was a little frightened by my mother's reaction. She had no idea how much flammable tension and sorrow was swirling about in my mother's heart, otherwise she might not have been so quick to snap a spark in her fact. Mama's shoulders rose slowly, as if her whole body was being pumped with air like a party balloon.

  'Did it ever, ever occur to you, even for a moment. Emma, that Christopher might be finding something sick in this house and not in his marriage?'" she began, speaking in a rather controlled, calm voice, which surprised me.

  Suddenly, she brought her fist down on the table and the plates and glasses jumped like animations that had just been brought to life.

  "Did it ever occur to you that your constant needling might be destroying all of us!" she screamed.

  I had never seen Grandmother Emma back away from an argument with Mama as quickly, but this time she just calmly set down her napkin and rose.

  "I will not take my dinner with such insolence and primitive behavior," she said, turned, and started out.

  Nancy had just entered with the platter of sliced filet mignon.

  "Bring my dinner to my office. I have lost my appetite in here," Grandmother Emma told her, and continued to walk out of the dining room.

  Nancy stood there gaping at us.

  Mama looked stunned herself at what she had accomplished: driven Grandmother Emma out of her own dining room.

  "I guess I'll never hear the end of this one," Mama muttered. She looked at Nancy. "Well, you can serve us here, Nancy. I haven't lost my appetite."

  Just as Nancy brought the platter to the table. Ian entered, oblivious to everything as usual. However, he immediately noticed Grandmother Emma was not with us.

  "What, she sick?" he asked, nodding at the empty chair and sitting.

  Mama sucked in her breath and brought her hands to her head, resting her elbows on the table.

  Ian looked at me for an answer. I didn't know what to say or how to begin to describe what had just happened.

  "Just eat your dinner, Ian," Mama finally said, lifting her face away from her hands.

  Ian shrugged and began to serve himself. Mania looked at me and I started to eat as well. We said little to each other. It was as though Grandmother Emma was still sitting there glaring at us. I saw that Ian suspected Grandmother Emma had found out about me. He gave me some quizzical looks and then waited patiently for his opportunity to talk to me after dinner.

  Mama went right up to her room, first telling us not to make any noise or touch anything forbidden. "I don't want any more trouble with your grandmother tonight," she said.

  After she started up the stairs. Ian suggested we go outside. "I want to talk to you," he told me. He looked around and added, "It's safer outside. C'mon, Jordan."

  I followed him out. We continued down the steps. I gazed down the driveway at the street, anticipating the possibility of Daddy's arrival, but the street was quiet with barely any traffic.

  All the time we had been living at Grandmother Emma's house, Ian and I rarely took walks together. Ian was too interested in making discoveries in nature and if I tagged along, it would be as if I were walking alone anyway. He wouldn't say much to me and I could stay interested just so long in his lectures about a stick of weed or a new species of bug. We were always warned about leaving any toys around the grounds or disturbing the flower beds, bushes, or lawn furniture. We never had any friends over to play with us here either. My mother had been considering having my seventh year birthday party outside by the pool, but it wa
s only five days away now and she had done nothing about invitations or planning.

  "With all that's happening." she told me, "I just can't concentrate on it. We'll have our own little birthday party for you, Jordan.'

  I hadn't had a birthday party with school friends or preschool friends since I was four anyway, but I had been invited to many parties--in fact, to Missy Littleton's just two weeks ago--and even at this young age. I felt a sense of obligation to return the invitation to those who had invited me, I was very disappointed. Grandmother Emma wasn't, I was sure.

  "Did Mother tell Grandmother Emma about you?" he asked immediately. "Or did Father tell her?"

  "No," I said. "They argued about Daddy's not coming home and then Mama banged the table and yelled at her and she wouldn't stay at the dinner table. She went to her office to eat."

  "Banged the table and yelled at her? Holy schmoly. Sorry I missed it," he said. He wasn't even interested in the details of their argument. His mind was already traveling on another highway. "Anyway," he said, "I thought I should help you understand more about precocious puberty."

  Ian had more of his computer-printer printouts with him in his back pocket when we walked out of the house. It was still light outside, the final minutes of twilight making it seem like the sun was hanging on for dear life before sinking below the horigon. Stars were just showing, popping out of the darkening blue like bubbles rising to the surface. This year spring was much warmer than it had been last year and I thought the birds especially were a lot happier about it. There seemed to be more of them and they were charting louder and more frequently.

  "How do the birds know when to return?" I asked Ian once, and it was like the best question I had ever asked him. I could see the respect and

  appreciation in his face for asking a question he didn't consider childish.

  "Lower animals and birds have something called instinct," he told me. "It works better than clocks. It doesn't stop until they die."

  "Can you see it?"

  "No, no. Look, can you see your hearing, your tasting, your smelling? We know about the world around us from our five senses, but the animals and birds have a sixth sense, their instinct. It just clicks in their bodies and they know nature has told them it's time to return. When you're older. I'll help you understand it better," he promised.