by Tish Cohen
Jojo didn’t move, so Olivia scooped him up to get a better look at how dead he was. She squinted at the little hamster. He was just as dead as Georgie Boy, even before she dug him up the second time. And Georgie Boy’s spirit was with Mommy, so that must be where Jojo decided to go when Olivia kicked him.
This was very bad.
Olivia sat back on the carpet. Her dad got real mad when she didn’t keep dead things in the ground. And if her dad caught her holding another dead rodent, he might think she dug it up. She needed to bury Jojo beside the broken Georgie Boy parts under the bush.
She looked around the room for something warm to wear, something without buttons or zippers, because buttons and zippers were too hard to do. Spying her dirty orange ski jacket under the bed, she set Jojo down on the cage and pulled the jacket over her pajamas. Then she picked up the hamster and headed down to the kitchen for a spoon.
Outside it was dark and cold, and sticks on the ground pricked Olivia’s bare feet. She found a big spoon on the counter beside the oven and put her pet in it. It was a pretty good spoon for digging because the tip was sharp. She walked across the yard and crawled under Georgie Boy’s bush, setting her hamster down on the dirt. Then she looked for the popsicle stick that marked the gerbil’s grave and began to dig right beside it. At least they could talk to each other…no, actually they couldn’t. Dead rodents don’t talk.
The ground was a little bit wet, so it was easy to dig the hole. Once it was deep, Olivia picked up Jojo and kissed his nose. “You’re a good boy,” she whispered as she lowered him into the ground. After a couple of shovelfuls of dirt, she heard a squeak and a scuffle. Then Jojo jumped out of his grave and raced across the grass into Tabitha’s yard.
He didn’t stay dead! And if he didn’t stay dead, that meant he wasn’t dead. Because only dead things stay dead.
Which meant Olivia hadn’t killed anybody.
“Jojo,” she called, crashing through the bushes and chasing after him in the moonlight. “Jojo!” The hamster slowed down for a moment in a small garden near the patio and she caught up with him, diving into the autumn flowers and scooping him up in her hands. She made a sack out of the bottom of her jacket and dropped Jojo in it, closing the hem over the hamster’s head in case he tried to escape again.
As Olivia turned back to Rachel’s, she heard a noise at Tabitha’s house. No lights were on and it looked scary, so she started walking backward. The patio door swung open and a man stepped outside, dragging something with him.
It was the man from the other night…the one with the cigarette. But the something he was dragging wasn’t a something. It was Tabitha.
Tabitha was bent over, trying to pull herself back toward the house, but he was too strong and got her out onto the patio. She jerked herself back and he almost let go; he only had her by the wrists now. “Little bitch!” he said and yanked her closer. He looked mean and Olivia didn’t want the man to see her. She crouched in the garden. Tabitha kicked the man in the legs. The man grunted and yanked Tabitha’s face upward by the forehead.
Tabitha’s mouth was gone.
A cloth was wrapped around her face and Olivia couldn’t see her mouth—not even one single solitary part of it.
As loud as she could, maybe louder than ever before, Olivia screamed.
She screamed until she ran out of breath, then screamed again. The man looked up and said, “What the fuck?”
Lights turned on in Tabitha’s house.
Lights flashed from Rachel’s house and another neighbor’s house.
Janie appeared out of nowhere.
The man dropped Tabitha and started to run and suddenly people were all around Olivia, all around Tabitha.
Her father picked her up and, still, Olivia screamed. She tucked her knees close to her chest so her father wouldn’t squish Jojo, and then Rachel pulled the cloth off Tabitha’s mouth. There was her mouth and her whole face. Her mouth started talking to her mother and Rachel and then Tabitha’s eyes and mouth started crying.
Curled in a ball in her father’s arms, Olivia didn’t need to scream anymore. Tabitha had her mouth back.
CHAPTER 53
Monday in the Boardroom
Abandon any fantasies of the perfect life. Perfection is vastly overrated.
—RACHEL BERMAN, Perfect Parent magazine
Rachel stood at the head of the boardroom table next to the wilted fichus tree and watched as her staff filed in. All the excitement over the weekend—with Olivia wandering outside, and her exquisite scream stopping the abduction, and the police milling around the two houses all day Sunday, meant she’d had no time to prepare for this meeting, other than a quick breakfast with her bank manager.
Some employees sat in boardroom chairs, others leaned against the walls. All wore the same expression. Dread. To most of these people, losing their jobs meant much more than losing a paycheck. Perfect Parent employees, many of whom had never worked anywhere else, were like a big, grumbling, extended family.
They griped about whomever was spiking the air-conditioning. They complained when someone else got a raise. The women moaned about the men pouring the last cup of coffee and walking off without making more. The men complained about the women never emptying the dishwasher in the lunchroom. But they never missed each other’s weddings and baby showers, bachelor parties, or family funerals.
Linda Haas nodded to Rachel that everyone was present.
Rachel breathed deeply and began. “Change is never easy. In fact, studies have shown that whether it’s good or bad, people experience an equal amount of stress until they adjust.”
She opened a folder and took out a stack of papers, handing them to Mindy and motioning for Mindy to pass them along. “It’s no secret that Perfect Parent has been going through some rough times. So rough that I’ve been forced to consider taking significant measures, like cutting the size of the book again. And, as many of you have suspected, layoffs.”
People shuffled miserably. Some whispered, others nudged.
“Both of these things would help push our numbers back toward profitability.” Rachel pulled a sheet of paper off the easel behind her. The words PERFECT PARENT were written in large block letters. “But we’re not going to do either.”
Linda looked over her glasses. “What?”
“We’re switching direction. I want you all to write down every parenting issue that’s come up in your household, your sister’s household, your neighbor’s household. Because that’s what this magazine will cover. I want learning disabilities, ADHD, autism, anxiety, and depression. I want gay teens, self-esteem issues, and eating disorders. Forget average parenting for average kids. I want us to cover the issues our readers are really dealing with. Our advice will no longer focus on the optimal number of strokes of the toothbrush at bedtime. Real parenting doesn’t work that way. Real parents think it up as they go along. Real parents don’t have time for perfection.” Rachel dropped into her chair and kicked off her shoes, tucking her feet under her. “We’ll need a new title.”
Mindy shook her head and laughed.
“What?” asked Rachel.
Mindy stood up and wove her way through the crowd, stopping in front of the easel. After pulling the cap off the marker with her teeth, she crossed out PERFECT and wrote REAL in front of the word PARENT. “We have one now.”
CHAPTER 54
Olivia’s Army
Be prepared, in an instant, to drop what you’ve learned as a parent—even your most tightly held convictions—and give your child what he or she needs most.
—RACHEL BERMAN, Perfect Parent magazine
Monday after school, Janie stood on top of a kitchen chair, affixing a foil streamer to the living room wall. “You better hurry up with those balloons, Dustin. People will be here soon.” Dustin’s legs were barely visible from beneath a mountain of inflated blue latex. He rubbed his jaw and groaned. “I can’t even feel my cheeks. I’m so done.” He held up his cast and wiggled his fingers. “I wond
er if the doctors would consider this child abuse…”
Janie pulled a roll of tape from her pocket and tossed it to her brother. “Mom wants you to start sticking the balloons all around the house.”
He groaned. “Everywhere? All the bedrooms, too?”
“You really think the guests want to see your reeking lair? The balloons are for the main floor.”
Rachel walked into the room, her fingers covered in icing. “Looks wonderful,” she said as Olivia tore past, her hair now shorn into a cheeky chin-length bob, tangled with ungovernable waves, and thicker than it was long. The child craned her head around to watch her fluttering cape—a threadbare towel Janie had safety-pinned to the back of her shirt when she got home from school. “Not so fast in those socks, Olivia. We can’t have our hero slipping and bumping her head. Put something else on your feet.”
The girl skidded from side to side for dramatic effect before racing out of the room.
“I don’t think she gets this whole hero party thing,” said Janie, waving toward the decorations. “She just wants to look like one of The Incredibles.”
“That’s okay. We’re doing it anyway.”
“Whatever,” said Janie.
Rachel sat down beside her. “Sweetie, I know it’s been a crazy day and a half, but I think we need to talk.”
“Can we do it later? I didn’t get much sleep this weekend.”
“The weekend is what I wanted to discuss. When we were out-side Saturday night, I saw Cody Donovan out by the bluffs.”
“I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Well, we’re going to talk about it. My daughter, sneaking out of the house when I think she’s in bed? To meet a boy?”
“What can I say? We were young and we were crazy and we were in love,” Janie recited with all the enthusiasm of someone reading the fiber content on a box of cereal.
“I don’t think so.”
“Our feelings could not be contained.”
“Janie…”
“Nor could the fire in our loins.”
“Janie, I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”
“Okay. I met Cody and Olivia screamed. I came back. End of story.”
“That’s not exactly the end of the story.”
“It isn’t?” Janie asked.
“I don’t think so. First of all, he’s not your type.”
“How would you know?”
“Honey.” Rachel laid a hand on her leg. “I know.”
Janie looked away.
Rachel pushed the hair off Janie’s face and leaned closer to see tears rimming her daughter’s eyes. “I really should have clued in earlier. Here I was, so worried about you being with boys, and all the time it was their sisters I should have been watching. I feel like such a…such a terrible parent.”
“I didn’t want you to know.”
“Maybe you did, just a little.”
“I didn’t want anyone…I didn’t want you to look at me all different. I couldn’t handle that. I figured you’d think I was just going all ‘Fuck mainstream’ on you.”
“Janie.”
“Or that I wasn’t me anymore. That I was suddenly all butch and tough…”
“Not for one moment since I found out have I thought of you as ‘butch’ or ‘tough.’”
“Or a perve,” Janie added.
Rachel smiled to herself. “Or a perve.”
“I’m still the same old me.”
“Same old you. Same old me.”
“Oh God! You aren’t going to write about me in the magazine again are you? Like the time when we drove to visit Dad’s college and I saw all the cows in the field and took my juice bottle out of my mouth and said—”
“Fucking cows!” called Dustin from the next room.
“Dustin!” said Rachel. “Don’t repeat it in front of Olivia.”
He sighed out loud. “I wish I’d been born earlier. I missed the trucker-mouth toddler years.”
“That’s our Janie,” said Rachel. “It was an article against washing kids’ mouths out with soap.”
“What were the parents supposed to do instead?” asked Janie.
“Reason with the child. And if that didn’t work, take away television for an afternoon.” Rachel gazed out the window, narrowing her eyes. “I probably should have tried the soap.”
“Wouldn’t have worked,” called Dustin. “For her mouth you’d need turpentine. Hey look!” He and Olivia appeared in the doorway. He rubbed two balloons in her hair and held them over her head. Olivia’s bob exploded like a hairy display of rusty pyrotechnics. They both giggled and disappeared, balloons billowing in their wake.
“That brother of yours is going to drive her crazy.” Rachel turned back to Janie. “There’ll never be another article about you. I promise. But there will be articles about gay teens in general.” She took Janie’s hands in hers. “Sweetheart, I love you no matter what. You’ll be you no matter what. Nothing’s going to change.”
Janie leaned into her mother, burying her face in Rachel’s shoulder. She didn’t move, didn’t speak for a moment.
“Mom, it’s worse than you know. I was so stupid with Tabitha. I trusted her and now everybody at school knows…”
“Shh. It’s okay. It’ll pass. In a couple of weeks they’ll be on to something else.”
“I should have realized it was never going to work with her. Anything you have to work that hard at is going to suck.” Janie sat back. “Want to hear the craziest part?”
“Sure.”
“I was pretending to be you.”
Feigning insult, Rachel fell against the couch cushions. “I’m offended and grateful at the same time.”
Len wandered into the room, wearing a burned oven mitt. He dropped down onto the couch and closed his eyes. “Something in the microwave is smoking and the oven timer is buzzing.”
“I’m sorry, love.” Rachel smoothed his hair, letting her hand rest on the back of his head. “I left you in there all alone.” She looked from the kitchen to Janie and back again, and called to Piper. “Mom? Would you mind turning off the oven and pulling out the lasagna? Just set it by the window…”
“Already done.” Piper came out of the kitchen, pushing the shiny wheelchair. She looked at Len. “You’re going to swallow that pride of yours and use this today. Otherwise you’ll exhaust yourself.”
Len didn’t open his eyes. “I’ll be fine in a minute.”
Piper winked at Rachel. “Stubborn man.”
He opened one eye, his lip twitching. “Interfering woman.”
Olivia galumphed back into the room, not only caped, but now booted. On her feet were a pair of black, unlaced army boots that could only have come from Janie’s closet.
Len winked at Janie. “First you, now Olivia. Have you girls no concern about the scuffmarks on these floors?”
“They were my first Docs,” said Janie. “She thinks they’re just as comfy as boot liners.” She stopped to watch Olivia, who had paused to pull her tube socks over her knees and admire the effect in the hall mirror—now, caped, work-booted, and well-socked, the child appeared to be prepared for anything. “They’ll look a whole lot cooler than winter boots at school, don’t you think? More of a statement than a fashion catastrophe. I didn’t want them going to just anyone. I was saving them for a…” she looked at Len, “a special person.”
Len’s face seemed to liquefy. He stared at Janie, smiling. He took her chin in his hands and kissed her young forehead, whispering, “Thank you.”
Another buzzer rang in the kitchen.
Rachel shook Janie’s knee and jumped up. “We’ll talk later, sweetheart.” When she reached the kitchen, she called back, “Sorry Janie, but could you be a doll and run out to the end of the driveway and drag the trash cans back to the garage?”
“Right now? We have this big…moment and you send me out for the trash?”
“I know. But people will be here soon. We’ll talk later. I promise.”
&n
bsp; She heard Janie stomp out the front door.
In the kitchen, Piper dumped a store-bought Caesar salad into a large bowl, tore open a package of dressing, and squirted it over the greens. She put it in the fridge and said, “If anyone asks, I made it from scratch.” She turned around and saw Olivia dancing past. “Olivia, you must be quite proud of yourself. You saved that girl’s life.”
Olivia scratched her toweled neck and stared at a plate of cookies. “Can I have one?”
Rachel watched in the reflection from the microwave door as Piper checked to see if anyone was looking. Assured they were not, she handed the child two rather large cookies and shooed her out of sight.
When Olivia was gone, Piper said, “I feel responsible for Janie’s…issue.”
“You?” said Rachel.
“Ever since Arthur left me, I’ve done nothing but insult the dignity of men. You know what sort of influence I’ve always had over the child. I’ve turned her off the entire gender.”
Rachel looked from Piper’s gleaming patent loafers through the window to Janie’s unlaced Docs, “God Save the Queen” T-shirt, and plaid pajama bottoms. “It’s sweet of you to look inward, Mother. But it’s pretty safe to say Janie knows her own mind.”
Piper wasn’t convinced. “Still, I think I’ll just have a few words with her. Tell her about a few of the decent men I’ve known…”
Watching her mother leave, Rachel shook her head. “Maybe I won’t ground Janie for sneaking out. This might just be punishment enough.”
Len pulled a spinach lasagna from the oven and set it on the island to cool. He looked at her with questioning eyes.
“I’d give it about fifteen minutes, then slice it up,” Rachel said, winking. “Please. And thank you. Dearest.”
“Into smallish pieces, I presume? Party-sized?” Len said.
“You’re pretty handy in the kitchen.”
“Mm. So now you kind of wish I was sticking around?”
She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “Not if you tell a single guest I didn’t do every bit of this myself.”
