_*_ 62 _*_
When I finally rolled out of bed that afternoon, they were watching football in the living room. Trish was curled up in the recliner, rocking slightly back and forth, a thick book in her lap and hideous reading glasses pinching the end of her nose. Dad sipped a beer on the couch. A half-eaten sub rested on the table in front of him, and the dog was sprawled at his feet. An ugly, wooden cuckoo clock hung on the wall above his head, ticking loudly.
“Look who’s up,” Dad said.
I pointed to the clock above the couch. “Where did that come from?”
“Trish found it in the basement,” he said.
She looked at me over the top of her reading glasses. “You look tired, Lee-Lee. Did you get enough sleep?”
Without any warning or asking for permission, my eyes teared up again. I should have ignored Finn. Should’ve walked to the bus station and gotten on the first bus without looking back. Spock rolled over and whined for a belly rub. When Trish looked at him, I wiped my face on my sleeve. Not that I was going to tell her, but she was right. I needed more sleep to deal with all of this, to deal with the bite of the blade, the ripping sound, and the flood
. . . she handed me the pen and I signed my first library card and they let me take out eight books that I could read as many times as I wanted . . .
. . . the snip of scissors and the smell of the glue, chaining one loop of paper to the next, red, green, red, green to hang on the tree . . .
. . . rows of M&M’s laid on the scratched kitchen table, her trying to teach me that multiplication and division could be fun . . .
Trish looked up at me. The light from the window was behind her and made it impossible to read the expression on her face. Focusing on the shadows made it easier
. . . she threw an ashtray at him and he ducked and it exploded into an ice storm of glass . . .
. . . finding her passed out on the couch with a stranger, both of them missing clothes . . .
. . . the sound of the door slamming the last time she left
to lock down the memories that kept trying to seep out.
Trish held up her book so that I could see the cover. “The new Elizabeth George. Do you like mysteries?”
Spock whined again and thumped his tail. He could smell the bullshit, too. Trish was already acting like she lived here. If I ran away, she’d make him fall in love with her again and God knows how that would end this time. But if I stayed and she stayed, I’d have to kill her and murder was still illegal.
Dad and Trish exchanged one of those grown-up looks that meant whatever happened next, I wasn’t going to like it.
He turned off the game and cleared his throat. “We need to talk.”
“I don’t think so,” I said, heading for the door. “I’m going to mow the lawn.”
“Not yet,” Dad said.
“Please,” Trish added.
I stopped. Crossed my arms over my chest.
“Don’t look at me like that.” Dad scratched his head. “Should have told you she was coming, I know. I tried to the other day when we were shooting hoops, but I got distracted.”
Trish rocked faster. The recliner started to squeak.
“And I’m sorry I lost my temper last night,” he continued.
“Well,” I said, “as long as you’re sorry, I guess that makes everything better, doesn’t it?”
“I screwed up, okay?” Dad cracked his knuckles. “You weren’t exactly on your best behavior. Anyway. Trish needs to stay here.”
Trish jumped in. “Only for a week or so.”
“No sense in her wasting money on a hotel room,” Dad said.
“What about the pig barn down the road?” I asked.
The squeaking recliner sounded like a mouse caught in a trap. They exchanged another annoying glance and my last nerve snapped.
“Don’t look at her like that!” I yelled.
“Hayley, please,” Trish said.
I whirled around. “Shut up!”
“Hayley!” Dad said.
Trish shook her head. “Give her some space, Andy.”
“Give me space?” I echoed. “Did you learn that from a fortune cookie?”
“You can’t have it both ways,” she said.
“What does that mean?”
“You tell me to shut up and then you ask me a question. You can’t have it both ways. You have to choose.” She pushed the reading glasses into her hair. “I’m an nurse now, Hayley. Got my degree. I’m up here for some interviews. Andy offered me a place to stay, as an old friend, nothing more.”
“Just as a friend,” Dad repeated. “She’s staying in Gramma’s room.”
I hoped Gramma’s ghost heard that. I hoped she was gathering her dead lady friends together to haunt and terrorize Trish. Maybe she could get Rebecca to help, along with the Stockwell family and everyone else from the graveyard, hundreds of dead people to crowd into the bedroom, Gramma tapping Trish’s shoulder and politely suggesting that she get the hell out and leave us alone.
Spock jumped up and shook himself, raising a cloud of fur and dander that hung in the sunlight.
“All right then.” Dad slapped his knees and stood up, as if everything was decided and I wasn’t on the verge of running in the garage to get the splitting maul.
“Where are you going?” Trish asked him.
“The choke on the lawn mower sticks,” he said. “I’m going to start it for her.”
“Don’t bother,” I said. “I’m going to Gracie’s.”
_*_ 63 _*_
“Tell me this is a nightmare.” I sat heavily on the swing, making the chains jingle. “Maybe that bacon we ate last night was spoiled. Maybe food poisoning is screwing up my brain.”
Grace moaned. “Please don’t talk about food.” “It’s like Halloween got stuck or something,” I said. “I wake up and there’s a witch in the living room and my dad is wearing a mask that almost looks like him, but not totally. Everything is weird.”
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised.” Gracie carefully sat at the bottom of the slide. Her little brother was playing with his friends over on the new climbing equipment. We’d headed for the old stuff to get away from the noise they were making. “Trish and your dad were together for a long time, right?”
I spun the swing in a circle, twisting the chains around each other. “That’s not the point.”
Gracie’s little brother, still wearing his Iron Man costume, came running over. “Kegan’s mom brought oranges. She said I can have one if you say yes.”
“Yes,” Gracie said. “But eat them over there, okay?”
“Can I have a bologna sandwich, too?” he asked loudly.
“Shh!” Gracie hissed. “My head hurts, remember?”
Garrett leaned close to her face and whispered loudly, “Can I have a bologna sandwich, too? Kegan’s mommy makes them with mayonnaise and ketchup.”
Gracie blew out a slow breath. “Eat what you want, buddy. Just don’t tell me about it.”
I waited until he was out of earshot. “You should puke and get it over with.”
“I hate puking.” She licked her lips. “What’s the point about Trish?”
I spun in one more circle. “The point is that she’s a terrible person.”
“Fix her up with my dad,” Gracie said as she leaned back on the slide. “That would solve both of our family’s problems.” She groaned. “Can a person die of a hangover?”
“If that was true, Trish would be dead by now.” I unspun quickly, the ground whirling beneath my feet. “Dad, too, I guess.”
“I can’t believe I did this to myself,” Gracie said.
“The worst part is that she’s in our house.” I dug my toes into the dirt and spun in the other direction. “Why can’t he see what she’s trying to do?”
“Stop stressing. You can’t change anything.” Gracie winced as the little girls chasing each other around the sandbox shrieked. “Parents get to do whatever they want. Will you stop talking and let me die now?”
“I didn’t realize what a whiner you are. Be grateful you didn’t get arrested.”
“I wasn’t going to drink anything.” She covered her eyes with her hands. “What was I thinking?”
“You weren’t thinking, dumbass, you were drinking. They’re opposites. Now focus: How do I get rid of her?”
“You don’t.” Gracie sat up, grimacing. “The world is crazy. You need a license to drive a car and go fishing. You don’t need a license to start a family. Two people have sex and bam! Perfectly innocent kid is born whose life will be screwed up by her parents forever.” She stood up carefully. “And you can’t do a damn thing about it.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Then you’re the dumbass.” She sat on the swing next to me. “Maybe this is a sign.”
“Of what?”
“A sign that you need to look ahead. At college and stuff. You gonna apply to Swevenbury?”
“Funny,” I said.
“Too close? What about California, lots of schools there. Get as far away as you can.”
“What about our commune?” I spun in another circle, bringing the twisted chains so far down that I had to lean forward so my hair wouldn’t get caught in it.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“Last night you said the four of us—you, me, Topher, and Finn—should raise goats on our commune.”
“Liar,” she said. “I don’t even like goats.”
“Sissie!” Garrett ran over to the swing set and shoved half of his bologna and mayonnaise and ketchup sandwich in Gracie’s face. “Want some?
“Oh, God,” Gracie said, lurching for the trash can.
“Give it to me, buddy,” I said. “Sissie doesn’t feel so good.”
_*_ 64 _*_
Finn was less Finn-like in the days after Halloween, distracted and quiet. His junkie sister was playing head games with his parents, but he didn’t want to talk about it. His phone was usually turned off (or maybe he was screening my calls), but he showed up faithfully to drive me to school every morning and home in the afternoon. We didn’t joke as much in the library or in the halls. Sometimes we barely talked, but his arm was always around my shoulders and my hand liked to slip into the back pocket of his jeans.
(Honestly? I was relieved. The secrets we’d shared at his house belonged in the dark. Seeing him in the light of day or the light of the cafeteria, made me feel like my skin had become transparent and the whole school could see inside me.)
Wednesday morning, he picked me up late, yawning and bleary-eyed. He said he hadn’t gotten any sleep, but when I asked why, he shrugged and turned on the radio. I leaned against the seat belt strap and tried to doze.
Having Trish around was making Dad worse. He’d woken up screaming around two thirty that morning. It was the third time in four nights that he’d woken up like that, hollering that the truck was on fire or trying to call in air support to take out a hornet’s nest of insurgents. After he settled down, he and Trish had spent the rest of the night talking in the living room. I tried to hear what they were saying, but the ticking of that damn clock made it impossible.
I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew we were at school.
Topher took one look at the two of us, bleary-eyed and yawning, and bought us both huge cups of coffee to go with our deliciously greasy breakfast burritos. He waggled his eyebrows. “What were you guys doing last night?”
“Nothing fun,” I said.
“We had a family Skype meeting.” Finn blew on the coffee. “Chelsea and Dad in Boston, me and mom here.”
“Really?” It was the first I’d heard of it. “Sounds nice.”
Finn shook his head. “It wasn’t. Chelsea wants to go to rehab, but there isn’t any money. Mom is thinking about selling her jewelry and her car.”
“Dude,” Topher said.
Gracie scratched at a piece of gum that had hardened on the table. She was short on sleep, too, from eavesdropping on her parents’ custody arguments. Her father was demanding Sundays through Wednesdays. Her mother was demanding that he not be allowed to introduce his girlfriend to Gracie and Garrett.
“What happens then?” I sipped the coffee and burned my mouth. “Will she take your car?”
“She said she’ll take the bus to work.”
“What about grocery shopping and stuff?”
“My car,” Finn admitted.
Grace looked up. “Did you trying saying no to her?”
“What about the insurance bullshit?” Topher asked. “What did she decide about that?”
“Something’s wrong with your insurance?” I asked, confused why Topher knew more than I did.
“Last week she said I have pay for it. Gas, too. Yesterday, Coach hired me to lifeguard during swim practice. I start this afternoon.”
“When were you going to tell me?”
“Sorry.” He looked into the coffee cup. “I forgot.”
“Sounds stupid if you ask me.” Gracie stole a sip of my coffee. “Your mom’s enabling your sister and screwing you over.”
Finn shrugged and bit into his burrito.
“Not to mention the obvious holes in her plan,” Gracie continued. “What if she gets fired? What if her boss doesn’t want employees who ride the bus, ’cause they’re always late?”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Finn said.
“You should,” Gracie said. “You’re enabling your mom the way that she enables your sister.”
“Your family calls it enabling, we call it taking care of each other.” Finn looked at Topher. “Changing the subject now. Did you hear about the shooting at the middle school in Nebraska?”
“The news is too depressing,” Topher said. “You should watch more cartoons.”
“Why do we have to change the subject?” Gracie asked. “We all have crazy parents, except for Topher.”
“They are pathetically well-adjusted.” Topher shook his head. “It’s so embarrassing.”
“Shut up, goof.” Gracie punched his shoulder lightly. “Shouldn’t we talk about this stuff and help each other?”
“She has a point, Finn-head,” I said.
“No, she doesn’t.” Finn turned to face me. “She’s being nosy and pushy. So are you. I seriously do not want to talk about this anymore.”
“Nosy?” I asked.
“So!” Topher said loudly. “Sports! Who wants to talk about sports?”
I should have stopped there, but I couldn’t. I was tired, frustrated, possibly a tiny bit in love and horrified by the thought. Plus, I was tired. (Did I mention that already?) My irritation was growing fast, the way a cartoon snowball gets bigger and bigger as it rolls down a mountain.
“The first thing you did when we sat down was to tell us about your family’s Skype visit, Chelsea wanting rehab, your mom selling her car and jewelry,” I said. “You told us that without anyone sticking their nose in your business.”
He didn’t say anything.
“And then you casually mention that you got a job that starts today, not that my life could possibly be impacted by that at all.”
“I already apologized for that.”
The snowball was the size of a dump truck.
“Apologies mean nothing if you don’t mean it.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” he asked.
“Not yelling at her would be a good start,” Gracie said.
Finn pointed at her. “Nosy and pushy, see?”
“Don’t yell at her when you’re pissed at me,” I said.
“I’m not pissed at you, but you’re picking a fight.”
Conversations at the tables around us were dying down. Zombie heads turned, smelling blood. My irritation had snowballed big enough to crush an entire village.
“I’m not picking a fight!” My fist pounded.
“Stop yelling,” Finn said.
“Okay, kids,” Topher said. “Time out.”
“Stop lying and I will!”
“I didn’t lie,” Finn said.
“You didn’t tell me about the insurance or the job, or the latest Chelsea disaster.”
“You don’t exactly give me minute-by-minute updates about your dad, but I don’t make a big deal about it.”
“Don’t talk about him,” I said. “Not here.”
He acted like he didn’t hear me. “I figure when you’re ready, you’ll tell me what’s going on. Why can’t you do the same thing for me? My family’s not half as crazy as yours. It’s not like you have to worry about my mom swinging an ax around or getting wasted and doing something stupid, right?”
“Stop it!” I stood up and pushed the table, sending the coffee cups flying and everyone scrambling to rescue their burritos and books.
“That’s enough!” called a cafeteria aide, pushing his way through the crowd to our table. “You boys need to move.”
“Whatever,” Finn muttered as he walked away.
The aide handed me a roll of brown paper towels, the kind that don’t absorb anything. “You caused the mess,” he said. “You clean it up.”
“Whoa,” Gracie said after the zombies in the cafeteria stopped staring. “You guys just had a fight.”
I ripped a useless handful of towel from the roll. “Shut up, G.”