Lucy Unstrung

by Carole Lazar

  When the chair and couch are where Mom wants them, she and Gina stand back to have a look.

  “Very retro,” says Gina.

  “Depressing,” says Mom. “But it won’t be for long. Come see your room, Lucy. It’s a bit better.”

  I follow her down the hall. I’m afraid to look. She opens the door.

  “Ta-da!”

  She has painted over the paneling and the room is now a very pale yellow. There is a single bed and the spread has a design of small blue and yellow flowers against a white background. Mom has made curtains of the same material and hung them so they extend over part of the wall on either side of the window, which makes the window look bigger than it is. The poufed valence is blue and matches the flowers in the print. There’s a white wicker chair and a small white dresser.

  “There’s not enough room for a desk,” she says. “I guess you’ll have to use the kitchen table to do your homework.”

  “Where will I put my computer?”

  “I think you should probably leave it at your dad’s,” she says. “I don’t have internet access here anyway. I can’t afford it.”

  I realize from the tone of her voice that she’s still feeling bad. I look around the room again. There’s no TV either.

  “It’s sure a lot cheerier than it was when I saw it last time, isn’t it? Neat what you did with the window.”

  She smiles. “You really think so?”

  “Definitely.”

  There’s a lot of noise coming from the kitchen and living room area. Gina, Ian, and the two guys are sitting around the kitchen table. Each of them has an open beer. Of course, the dog is there too. She is running around like she doesn’t know what to do with herself. She’s going to get stepped on if she doesn’t smarten up. This trailer isn’t big enough for three full-grown men. It feels way too crowded.

  As soon as we come into the room, one of the men stands up to let Mom have his chair. No one even bothers to introduce me.

  “Sit down, Randy,” says my mom. “I’m going to make some sandwiches. Lucy, come give me a hand, will you?”

  We use up a whole loaf of bread making sandwiches. I spread the butter, mustard, and mayo. Mom piles on meat, cheese, and lettuce. By the time we get them to the table, everyone’s having a second beer. They’re very noisy. I can tell it’s upsetting the dog. No one is paying any attention to her.

  I’m not hungry. I decide the dog would probably be happier somewhere quiet. I pick her up, planning to take her to my room.

  “Oh, Lucy, thanks so much,” says Gina. “Kate, where’s Lucy’s leash?”

  “Oh, are you going to take her for a walk?” Mom asks. “She’ll appreciate that. She hasn’t been out since first thing this morning.”

  I had not planned to take the dog for a walk. If she hasn’t been out since this morning, she’s sure going to need to poop soon. Why should this be my responsibility when Gina is just sitting around drinking beer? But I’m standing with the leash in my hands, and the dog isn’t smart enough to know what I’m thinking, so she’s on her hind legs, twirling around in front of me like a ballerina. How can I say no? I snap the leash to her collar and head for the door.

  “Don’t forget a baggy,” Mom says. She hands me one.

  We walk around the trailer park. There’s a community hall in the middle of it and a tiny park behind that. I’m heading in that direction, but then I see three girls sitting at a picnic table there, smoking cigarettes. They look older than me, but probably not by that much. I don’t know what I’d say to them if I went that way, so I turn right and walk down a different lane. It’s maybe ten minutes later that I get home again, proudly carrying my plastic bag of dog poop. I hope everyone’s happy.

  They certainly sound that way. Ian is telling jokes. Everyone is laughing except my mom, who just looks tired.

  I take the dog to my bedroom with me. I leave the door open a bit, and when I see my mom passing by on her way to the bathroom, I call to her. “We’re going to get kicked out of this place the same day we moved in,” I say as she stands in my doorway. “They’re being so noisy. What will your landlord say?”

  “Randy is the landlord.”

  “Who’s Randy?”

  “The guy with the blond hair. The one with the ponytail.”

  I’m stunned. “You pay him rent and everything?”

  She nods and then says she really has to go to the bathroom. When she leaves, she closes my door behind her. The dog and I are glad. We can use what little privacy we can get.

  The bunch of them carry on partying in our kitchen all afternoon. I wander out of my room a little after five o’clock. There’s no sign of dinner. There are still some sandwiches left. I take a couple from the plate and find a can of pop in the fridge. I go back to my room. I share the sandwiches with the dog. She likes the ham and cheese, but she won’t eat the lettuce.

  Everyone finally leaves about eight o’clock. I still have the dog. Gina didn’t even come to say good-bye to her. I can hear Mom moving around in the kitchen, then her steps pass my bedroom door and I hear her turn on the shower. A few minutes later, she sticks her head into my room. “It’s been a really busy weekend, Lucy. I’m going to call it a night.”

  It’s eight-thirty. She never goes to bed this early. I wonder how much beer she’s had.

  After Mom’s asleep, I call Siobhan and tell her all about it. “The first day we move in and here she is having this big drinking party. What do you think of that?”

  “It doesn’t sound good,” says Siobhan.

  I agree.

  “But moving is really stressful, and if all those people were helping her, maybe she felt she had to give them a beer and a bit of something to eat.”

  “I could understand if she’d given each of them one beer, but she had Ian buy a whole case, one of the big ones. It had fifteen bottles of beer in it, and they drank them all!”

  “Well, at least your mom was alone when she went to bed.”

  I’m confused. “What does that have to do with how much beer they all drank?”

  “My parents always say that if they didn’t drink so much, they’d have a way smaller family.”

  “You’re joking!”

  “No, it’s that way with lots of people. Drinking gives them ideas.”

  I start wondering about this landlord of ours. I hope he isn’t going to be bringing beer over all the time. And what about Jake? That’s the name of the other guy, the one who was working on his car the first day I came to see the place. How did Mom meet him? What was he doing here tonight? I wonder if I really should visit Dad on the weekends. Maybe I should stay here and keep an eye out for Mom. I definitely don’t want her getting ideas like the ones Siobhan’s parents get.

  “Maybe we should join Alateen,” Siobhan says.

  “What’s Alateen?”

  “Mariah goes. They meet in the basement at Saint Ignatius every Friday night. It’s for teenagers whose parents are alcoholics.”

  “Do you think my mom’s an alcoholic?”

  Until the last two weeks, I’d never seen her drink anything except a glass of wine with dinner. Even that was only on very special occasions. Now, all of a sudden, she’s guzzling beer.

  “Mariah has this sort of test,” says Siobhan. “I’ll get it for you. But she says it doesn’t matter if your parent is a real alcoholic. The club is for any teen who’s being affected by a parent’s drinking.”

  “Like having to spend all day in my room to get away from the noisy party?”

  “Yeah, like that. I’m sure they’d let us join. And it’s on a Friday night, so you’ll be staying at your dad’s place. It will be cool. That way, even though you have to go to a new school, at least we’ll get to see each other once a week.”

  I like the sound of that.

  Monday morning, I’m not worrying about my mom’s drinking anymore because I have bigger problems. I’m so stressed about my first day at this new school that I’m a total wreck.

  “W
hat am I supposed to wear?”

  Mom and I stand in my room, looking into the pokey little closet. It isn’t crowded. When you wear the same old uniform for school every day, you don’t need many clothes.

  “Probably jeans and any top you want would be fine,” Mom says.

  I put on the clothes I’d wear if I were going to Siobhan’s on a Saturday. Trouble is, I look like I’m about ten.

  “The school is close enough that you can walk,” Mom says. “This will be quite handy.”

  “I’m not walking.”

  “But if I drive you, you’ll get there way earlier than you need to.”

  “I have too much stuff to carry.”

  So she drives me to school and takes me up to the office. The school is horrible. The place is huge. The kids are huge. It’s not like going to high school with all your friends from elementary. There’s no orientation where everyone is really nice and shows you around. The secretary takes me in to see the counselor.

  The counselor doesn’t seem all that friendly. She just works out a timetable for me. Then she finds me a locker, and when I have my books sorted out, she takes me to the class that’s going to be my homeroom. The teacher is a man. She introduces us. I forget his name the second she says it. I can’t remember the counselor’s name either. It’s still early. I’m the only kid in the classroom.

  The teacher shows me to a seat and then goes back to the marking he was doing when I came in. I sit there and try to pray. Where’s God when you need Him?

  I’m there maybe five or ten minutes when the bell rings. Kids start pouring into the room. They’re all talking at once. A lot of them have drinks or are eating something. There’s lots of pushing and shoving. At first, no one even notices me.

  Then this one guy looks at me and says, “Hey, Babe, wrong class.”

  That catches the attention of some other kids. A big girl with the world’s shortest skirt and black-and blue-striped hair says, “Wrong school, honey. The elementary’s two blocks over.”

  She and her friends laugh. The teacher is telling them all to sit down. It takes forever, but finally things are quiet enough that he can introduce me. I feel like a specimen. He points at me and tells everyone my name. They’re supposed to make me feel welcome. Good luck. Of course, he doesn’t tell me their names – not that I could begin to remember them. No one even says hi.

  The teacher takes roll call and reads some announcements. The bell rings again.

  Chaos breaks out. Everyone is talking and jostling. I don’t know where I’m going, so I just sit there. The room has almost emptied, but I see one girl who seems to be hanging back.

  Finally, she comes over to me. “What class do you have first?” she asks.

  “Science,” I say. “Room 216.”

  “Follow me.”

  I do. She’s an Indo-Canadian girl with hair down past her butt. I don’t think she’s really had a proper look at me yet. Any time I look at her, she looks down right away. She’s really shy, I think. I don’t know where I’m going and I don’t know this girl’s name, but what do I have to lose? I couldn’t be any more lost with her than I would be on my own.

  The class she leads me to has high benches and stools instead of desks and chairs. The posters on the walls list all the safety rules you’re supposed to follow when you’re working in the lab. Definitely a science class. I smile my thanks.

  “You can sit here,” she says, pointing to a stool.

  When the teacher comes in, my new friend calls her over. “This is Lucy. She just moved here.”

  The friendly girl makes sure I get to all my morning classes, and she sits down at an empty table with me at lunch.

  “You know how you introduced me to all the teachers?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she says without raising her eyes from the lunch bag she’s just opened.

  “Well, there’s one important person you forgot to introduce.”

  She looks up at me, all worried. Then she looks around the cafeteria.

  “Who?”

  “You.”

  She’s been so serious all morning, but suddenly her face lights up in a smile. “I’m Harbie. Harbie Grewal,” she says.

  Another girl comes up to our table, carrying a tray. She looks at me, and for a second, it’s like she can’t decide whether to sit down or not. Harbie looks up from her lunch and sees her.

  “Kuldeep, this is Lucy.”

  The girl nods at me. She sits down next to Harbie.

  “Lucy just moved here,” Harbie says.

  “Where from?” Kuldeep asks.

  “From Surrey,” I say. “I used to go to Holy Name.”

  Kuldeep nods again.

  We compare timetables. Kuldeep will be in my art class, which I have right after lunch. She says she’ll show me how to get there.

  They don’t talk much, but they’re friendly, and I’m thinking this might all work out. Then four boys approach the table. They just stand there beside us, looking me over.

  “You the new girl?” one of them finally asks.

  I nod.

  He shrugs and smirks at his friends. Then he looks back at me. “We always have to check out any new girls. Hoped you might be a hottie.” And just like that, they all walk away.

  I am a hottie. My face is so hot I’m surprised I haven’t set off the sprinkler system.

  I look at Harbie. She just shrugs.

  “Why do I feel so insulted?” I ask. “I don’t want to be a hottie.”

  “Probably don’t want to be treated like a piece of meat either,” Kuldeep says. Then she takes another bite from her sandwich.

  *

  All things considered, it isn’t such a bad first day. I stand in front of the school for a minute or two after I come out, waiting. Then I remember I’m on my own. I have a key to our trailer, and I have responsibilities at home.

  The first thing I do when I get there is take the dog for a walk. It’s not like I have much choice. It’s either that or feed her valium. When she’s all happy and calmed down, I walk her home, get comfortable on the couch, and call Grandma. While I’m talking to her, I get up to get a cola from the fridge. As I head back to the couch, I see the girl from my homeroom class, the one with the black and blue hair and the skirt up to her crotch who told me to go find the elementary school. She’s walking by, almost under our front window. She must live in the trailer park.

  I tell Grandma about the girl. I’m wondering now if she was one of that group I saw smoking down at the park the day we moved in. Grandma doesn’t think I should go out of my way to make friends with her. I don’t think Grandma has much to worry about.

  ten

  By the end of our first week in the trailer, I’m pretty sure I won’t have to go to Alateen. There are no more noisy parties. None of the men come over with cases of beer. It’s just me, Mom, and the dog. It can’t be too exciting to watch us, but that’s what the lady who lives in the pig house does. She must spend all day sitting at her window.

  Friday morning, I’m just coming back from walking the dog when she comes out onto her deck. I’d have expected her to be plump and pink, but she’s skinny and everything about her looks gray. Her hair is tightly permed and reminds me of steel wool pads. Her face is wrinkled and ashen. She’s clutching at the gray cardigan that she’s wearing over what I think is her nightgown. She’s smoking a cigarette.

  “So is it party time again?” she asks.

  I look behind me, wondering if there’s someone else around who she might be talking to. There isn’t. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Well, it’s the weekend. Does that mean you’ll be having another party?”

  “It wasn’t really a party. It was just the people who helped us move.”

  “Humph! And I suppose you’re going to tell me they stayed for coffee. Don’t bother even trying that one. I saw the empties your mother was trying to sneak out the next morning.”

  “I don’t think we’re expecting any company this weekend.”
/>   “Good!” She stubs her cigarette out in a small ceramic pig ashtray and stomps back into her trailer without saying good-bye.

  My mom drives me over to Dad’s on Saturday morning. She’s planning to stay awhile to do some cleaning. When we get to the house, we see the real estate lady’s car in the driveway.

  “Oh, darn it,” says Mom. “She must be showing the place to someone. We probably shouldn’t go in.”

  “Want me to check?” I ask.

  “Okay.”

  I get out of the car and let myself in through the front door. I can hear voices coming from the kitchen. It sounds like it’s just Amy and Dad.

  “Dad?” I call.

  “In here, Lucy,” he says.

  They’re sitting at the table, drinking Starbucks coffee.

  “Who bought the coffee?” I ask.

  “Me,” answers Amy. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, the tall is expensive, but Dad says you can get the same thing from McDonald’s or A&W for a whole lot less.”

  “I prefer Starbucks,” says Amy.

  “Can Mom come in and clean?” I ask Dad.

  “Sure, that will be great.”

  “Your ex comes in to clean the house?” Amy asks.

  “She thinks it will show better if it’s kept up right,” says Dad. “It’s not like I’m leaving my dirty clothes on the floor or anything like that, but Kate notices things I don’t. She sort of has an eye for detail.”

  He’s still explaining, but I go to the front door and motion to Mom that it’s okay to come in.

  Mom has brought the vacuum from our place and she’s carrying it as she walks into the kitchen. When she sees Amy and Dad sitting there together, she looks kind of shocked, probably because of the Starbucks coffee.

  “I thought you were showing someone through the house,” she says.

  “Oh no,” says Amy. “This is more of a social visit.”

  “How nice. And will the noise of the vacuum bother you?”

  “I told Amy I’ll be wanting to buy a smaller house once this place sells,” Dad says. “She just dropped by with a few listings she thought I might be interested in.”