Cinnamon

by V. C. Andrews

  I shook my head. Was I supposed to tell her?

  "Please, honey. We don't keep things from each other," she reminded me.

  "You thought you hadn't had the baby. You thought you were having labor pains."

  I decided to leave out the bizarre drawing she had made on her body.

  "Oh."

  "Then you thought you gave birth prematurely and the baby was in intensive care. You kept asking me how she was,"

  She nodded took a deep breath to keep her tears back and shook her head.

  "Is your father terribly upset?" she asked,

  If I have any acting skills. I thought, now we'll see. My slight hesitation already had triggered some concern in her and her eyes snapped open and turned to peruse my face.

  "He's been working harder to keep himself from thinking about it all,' I said."I haven't seen much of him."

  She nodded.

  "I don't blame him for working harder and not wanting to think about it. He wanted the baby very much."

  I nodded, smiled and took her hand again.

  "You must get stronger and come home as quickly as you can. Mommy. I need you."

  Her eyebrows rose at the urgency in my voice.

  "Grandmother Beverly making things hard for you?"

  "Let's just say you've got a lot to do at home. Mommy." I replied and she laughed.

  "Let her have her moment in the sun, gloat about what happened and how right she was. That's all she has, all she's ever had: her own self

  righteousness," Mammy added. I felt my heart fill with joy. We were conspirators again, a team, turning the world into our stage, putting the lights where we wanted them, desiring the set, filling it with our own props, writing the script as we went along.

  "You mean you won't ignore her as much?"

  "Exactly. I'll do exactly the opposite: pay too much attention to her. We'll agree with her, but of course, we won't."

  "We'll haunt her. We'll even ask her opinions," I suggested. She smiled gleefully.

  "About every little thing. anything."

  "Weigh her down with more responsibilities, more decisions."

  "We'll yes her to death." Mommy said. "We'll overwhelm her with respect and cooperation until she runs off exhausted into the wings."

  I laughed.

  "Oh Mommy. I can't wait for you to come home."

  She asked me about school and I told her about the play and Miss Hamilton's giving me a script.

  "It's a wonderful play. Do go out for it, honey. I'd love to see you on the stage, a real stage with a real audience and not just our little attic room of makebelieve, okay?"

  "I'll think about it," I said.

  "Good." She closed her eyes. "Good."

  Her condition made it possible for her to turn on sleep in an instant. I saw her breathing become regular, slow, and felt her on my hand soften. Gently, I pulled away and sat back, watching her for a while.

  She's coming home. I thought, Mommy's coming home.

  I left the hospital with bounce in my steps. I felt I could do battle with anyone or anything again. I would go out for the play. I wouldn't be afraid of competing. I could even handle Grandmother Beverly until Mommy came home, and as for Daddy... I would pretend I knew nothing and let his own conscience boil in his heart.

  Grandmother Beverly was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. I hated to admit it, but the aroma of the roast chicken and baked potatoes made me hungy. It all smelled so good. She greeted me and told me Daddy was coming home and would visit Mammy after dinner.

  "So we're eating as soon as he arrives." she informed me. "Put your things away and come down to set the table."

  "Mommy's better," I told her. "She's a lot better." She nodded.

  "I know all about it," she said as if that was the least important thing and went back to preparing dinner.

  I hurried upstairs. I wouldn't return to the hospital with Daddy later. I thought. I didn't want to ride with him. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to keep what I knew to myself. Anyway, tomorrow were the auditions for the play and I did want to study the part, even memorize some of it to impress everyone.

  Just as I put my books down and started to change my clothes, the phone rang. It was Clarence.

  "I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner," I told him as soon as I heard his voice. "I went right to the hospital. My mother is better. She'll be coming home soon. She's better. Clarence."

  "I'm glad." he said, but the heavy tone in his voice told me something was very, very wrong.

  "What happened? Why did your father come to school for you?"

  "Your grandmother called him this morning at the office," he said. My heart stopped and started.

  "What?"

  "She told him everything she saw. She threatened all sorts of things, including a lawsuit. All this after I cut school and he had grounded me, too," he added. "Then he saw the letter about my fighting and it was like lighting a wick on a stick of dynamite. I never saw him this angry. My mother's just as angry. They had a meeting about me and they've decided to send me to the Brooks Academy. My father's always threatened to do that."

  "Boarding school? When?"

  "Immediately," he said.

  "How can they do that?"

  "You don't know my father. When he makes up his mind, he goes to work and moves mountains out of his way." Clarence took a breath. "I'm leaving tomorrow.'"

  "Tomorrow! You're kidding?"

  "I wish I was," he said.

  "Well, why are you going? Don't go, Clarence."

  "I've got to go. They've already removed me from school here.'

  "But--"

  "He even suggested he might send me to a military school if I don't cooperate."

  "Oh, Clarence."

  "Maybe you can come up to Brooks once in a while. It's only about two and a half-hours' drive. I'll call you whenever I can, too. I can take my computer. Maybe we can e-mail each other every day."

  "My grandmother did this," I groaned.

  "I never saw my father as angry or afraid of anything or anyone,"

  I was quiet. I didn't know what to say. Who could I turn to for help and sympathy? My father? Hardly. I couldn't tell Mommy about this yet. I had to give her a chance to fully recover. Never did I feel as trapped and alone. I held the receiver to my ear. but Clarence was becoming fainter and fainter, a voice drifting away, a face diminishing, a memory thinning until it was nearly impossible to revive. He was on a boat floating into the darkness.

  "I'm sorry," was all I could offer.

  "I'll call as soon as I can," was his weak and despondent reply.

  When I hung up. I felt as if I had closed my last window and was shut up in a room with no door.

  "Cinnamon!" I heard Grandmother shout up the stairs. "Set the table. It's getting late."

  You have no idea how late it is. Grandmother. I thought. No idea.

  I decided to say nothing about Clarence at dinner. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing she had succeeded in getting exactly what she intended. Daddy was buoyant when he returned. He knew about Mommy's recovery, of course, and talked about how we were going to make things pleasant for her when she came home.

  "When she's stronger, we can think about a nice little holiday, perhaps. In the spring. She's always wanted to go to Disney World. What do you think?"

  "Ridiculous," Grandmother Beverly said. "Adults wanting to go to a children's playland.'

  "It's not only for children. Besides, the child in you never should die," Daddy countered.

  I raised my eyebrows. It was rare to see or hear him disagree with her.

  "You'll like it too. Mom." he said.

  "Me? You want me to go to Disney World?"

  "Why not? You'd be surprised at how you would enjoy it."

  "Surprised for sure," she said.

  He turned to me. smiling. "I spoke with Mommy late today and she told me you said you were going out for the school play."

  "Maybe," I said.

  "It would
make her happy," he told me.

  I glared at him.

  "I know what makes her happy and what doesn't. Daddy. I know better than anyone."

  His smile held, but lost its glow.

  "Sure you do. Cinnamon. I know that." He glanced at Grandmother Beverly.

  "What do you think, Mom?"

  "She dresses like she's on some stage an' way." she said. "And she certainly needs more to do. Idle time leads to trouble," she added turning to me, her eves small and hot with accusation.

  I looked away, my lips struggling to open, my tongue thrashing about, anxious to fire off the furious words.

  Don't give her the satisfaction, I told myself. Pretend nothing she does or says can have an effect on you. Defeat her with in' difference.

  That took all the control I could muster. Perhaps it was my greatest performance.

  I smiled at both of them.

  "Yes, I have decided," I said. "I'm going to win that part and be in the play."

  "Good," Daddy said clapping his hands. "I have something wonderful to tell your mother tonight..."

  Of course, it was easier for me to say it, but even with Miss Hamilton's encouragement, winning the part was going to be a formidable task. The two other girls who I knew were Going out for it were both veterans of the school's stage. One of them was Iris Ainsley, the prettiest girl in the senior class by far. I had to admit to myself that she looked the part more than I did. She had soft hair the color of fresh corn and eyes that looked as though God had taken them from the purest sapphire. She was an inch or so shorter than I was, but she had a dream &ire, lithe with soft turns from her neck to her shoulders. When she walked through the school, she seemed to float. It was easy to see the looks of appreciation and longing in the eyes of some of the male teachers as well as the boys in school. She had a very pleasant speaking voice and she was an honor student.

  If I had anything over her, it was my stronger desire to win the part, to win it for Mommy. Iris didn't have the same hunger, the same need and

  determination. She couldn't raise herself to the level of intensity.

  She was too comfortable being Iris Ainsley to really step out of herself and be the woman in the play. I only hoped others saw it as I did.

  Auditions were held after school in the auditorium. I had been having a horrendous day. Rumors encircled me like a ring of fire now that everyone knew Clarence had been taken out of school. A little truth was mixed with a lot of exaggeration to create a recipe for disgrace. My role attracted the most exaggeration, especially from the lips of the boys. According to what some of the kids were saying. I had either raped poor innocent Clarence or taught him some nasty satanic rituals. Dirty remarks were cast my way in the halls and in the cafeteria. I found

  disgusting notes on my desk and shoved into my locker. I ignored it all and kept my focus on what I had to do: remain within that spotlight so that I couldn't see the world around me.

  Most of the students who were going out far the play looked genuinely surprised I was there. Miss Hamilton handed out scenes from the play. She began by explaining the story and setting up the characters.

  "Don't think about one character or another. Just read what I give you to read and leave it up to me to decide who fits each character the best. I appreciate you all coming out it takes courage. And I would like to state right now that if you don't find yourself with a part, please consider being a member of our set crew, prop crew, lighting crew or publicity committee. My advice to all of you is to get involved any way you can." she added looking directly at me.

  It filled me with dread. Was it a foregone conclusion that Iris would get the part I longed to have?

  The readings began. Iris had done what I had done: she had memorized the lead's lines. I could see from their faces that everyone assumed she was going to get the role. I felt it was almost futile when I was called. The others didn't smile with disdain as much as they stared with curiosity. None of them had ever seen me do anything in front of an audience. I read in class, of course, and I made reports when I had to, just like they did, but this was different. This was truly being under the spotlight.

  I stepped up on the stage, Dell Johnson was reading the role of Death. He had a very mature look and a deep, resonant voice. He sang lead in the chorus and had been in three major musical productions at the school. None of the boys frying out deluded themselves. They were here to get some other role. Dell owned this one by his mere existence.

  He looked at me and smiled as if my daring to challenge Iris was a childish act of bravado. It stirred heat under my breasts. I straightened my shoulders and closed my eyes for a moment, conjuring up the very scene Miss Hamilton had chosen to be read.

  And then I began, reciting, illustrating I had memorized the lines as well. I could hear a very audible gasp of surprise and a stirring in the group. Dell, who I knew had intended just to read his lines without much feeling, suddenly found himself actually acting. Later. Miss Hamilton would tell me when someone is good, very good, it makes everyone else reach for his highest capability.

  I looked at Dell. I moved toward him instinctively when the lines called for me to do so. I raised and lowered my voice, gazed into his eyes, drew him into the scene. We did so well together, we went beyond the pages we were given, and for a few seconds, no one. Not even Miss Hamilton realized it. Then she clapped her hands and we stopped.

  "Well, thank you. Cinnamon. Thank you," she added with audible appreciation. I glanced at Iris. She looked shocked, surprised, and angry at the same time, but that quickly turned to panic when she looked at Miss Hamilton and saw the depth of pleasure on her face. Then Iris turned back to me, long, glaring looks of envy delivered and redelivered as a series of visual slaps on my face. I walked off. feeling her eves like two laser beams burning the back of my head. I ignored her and sat down to listen to the others, choosing whom I would select to play the various roles just to see how close I could come to what Miss Hamilton would do.

  Surprisingly. I was nearly right about every one of them when I looked at the cast list posted the following morning. My name was prominent. I had won the part and that took over as the main topic of conversation in school. Most of my teachers congratulated me. Some looked genuinely surprised and impressed. Even Mr. Kaplan, the principal, stopped to wish me luck and encouragement. I was on pins and needles, anxious to rush out to the clinic to give Mommy the good news. Our first rehearsal was on Monday. Miss Hamilton assigned the pages to be memorized.

  "I'm glad she chose you," Dell Johnson told me just before school ended. "I was afraid she wouldn't give you the chance."

  "Thank you. Actually, she asked me to try out," I told him. That raised his eyebrows.

  "Really?" He paused and looked around us to

  be sure what we said wouldn't be overheard. "You

  know, you'd better be careful about her." he advised. "Why?"

  "I've heard things, and I've got to warn you...

  Iris is pretty upset. She's already suggesting..." He

  rolled his eyes.

  "Suggesting what?"

  "Dirty stuff." he said. "Between you and Miss

  Hamilton." he added.

  "She better not do it in front of me." I said. "Don't worry, she won't. She doesn't work that

  way." He leaned toward me to add. "Just ignore them

  all. Cinnamon. Concentrate on the play. You'll be

  great," he said.

  He sounded sincere. but I wondered if I could

  trust him. It was the beginning. I thought, the

  beginning of all the little intrigues that would

  surround and invade every dramatic project with

  which I would become involved. As always, the

  hardest part was acting in real life and the easiest thing was doing the actual performance. The line between the real and the imagined was blurred. Once again, I understood that life itself was an ongoing play. Shakespeare was right: the world was a stage

  and al
l of us merely players.

  Well, it was my time to play and. I was now

  determined. I would.

  Mommy was so ecstatic over the news. I

  thought she might get up, ask for her clothes and walk

  out of the clinic with me right then and there. "I knew you would be chosen. Cinnamon. She

  would have had to be a dullard not to see your

  talents," Mammy told me.

  "Sometimes, talent isn't what determines who

  does and does not get the good roles. Mommy," I said.

  "You taught me that."

  She stared at me a moment. her eyes darkening. "Of course you're right, honey," she said. "But I

  never meant to cause you to be cynical at so young an

  age. We need our childhood faiths sometimes. We

  need to believe in magic and wonder and have pure,

  innocent hope. Otherwise, the world out there is a

  very dark, disappointing place and frankly, it's the

  only world we have."

  "I believe in the magic. Mommy, but it's magic we make for ourselves. Those who trust and have too

  much faith suffer the most," I said.

  What she didn't know was that I was talking

  about Daddy and how much faith and trust she had in

  him. How would she react when she found out about

  him? Would she crumble and end up back in here? I

  would hate him forever, I thought.

  "You're right. Cinnamon. I just want you to find

  a good balance."

  "I will," I promised.

  She wanted me to read from the play script and

  talk about the part. She was determined to get better

  quickly now and be there to help me give the best

  possible performance.

  "When are you coming home. Mommy? Has

  the doctor told you?"

  "He wants me to stay a few more days, to grow

  stronger and to be sure I am all right," she said.

  "Daddy thinks that's best. too."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. He seems so troubled these days, so

  distant. I feel sorry for him, sorry for what all this has

  done, to him." she said.