I’m competent Georjie on the outside, the girl who has it all under control; good grades, nice manners, bright future. But inside, I still just want to know my mom will be there to cry into a bucket of cookie dough ice-cream with me when I have a crap day.
Targa lives in a trailer with her mom. I practically died tripping over the crack in their front step the first time I visited. The front door sounds like its going to fall off the hinges whenever it gets slammed, which is all the time (I suspect her mom might be on steroids) but I’d happily live in that falling down love-stuffed piece of shite if I could have Mira for a mom instead of Liz. Mira is a busy work-loaded parent too, but when she looks at Targa you can drown in the love oozing out of that woman. When I look at Liz (if we’re ever in the same room together) I see laptop screens for eyes and a stiff case-winning smile. She has perfect hair though, yay for perfect hair. And she almost never loses a case. Dad vanished when I was 6 and Mom promised she’d always be there for me. That was before she made partner. Then she vanished too, emotionally speaking.
A hollow feeling buckled my knees. I plopped down in one of the deck chairs. The dark sky, so beautiful in its star-spackled glory while my friends were here, now looked like it was going to swallow me in its cold gaping maw. I stared into the dying embers. The insects had stopped singing and the fire had run out of heat. Silence stuffed my ears in one of those moments where you wonder if you’ve actually gone deaf. The dwindling fire gave a snap and confirmed I hadn’t lost my hearing, just my besties for the summer. Bugger me timbers.
The grinding hum of our garage door alerted me that Liz was home. I’d stopped thinking of her as Mom years ago. When ‘Liz’ slipped out of my mouth instead of Mom, she didn’t bother to correct me. I was eleven. “I need your signature on this permission form for the trip to the Natural History Museum, Liz.” She didn’t even blink. I hadn’t meant to say it, it came out as random and unexpected as hiccough number one. The memory of it still stings. It was a confirmation that I hadn’t been dreaming up the ravine between us, she knew it was there and she was ok with it. When Liz changed back to her maiden name - Sheehan, she asked me if I wanted to change my name from Sutherland to Sheehan, too. I declined just to see how she’d react, ready to be convinced otherwise. She didn’t even try, she just shrugged.
Liz was about to get some happy news. Targa’s last-minute decision to go to Poland with her mom meant that I’d be leaving too. Decision made. Ireland, here I come. I hadn’t been planning on leaving. It had been ten years since I’ve been to visit my Aunt Nelda, she’s practically a stranger. Then again, so is Liz. So what’s the difference? Stay home in Saltford with my laptop? Or get on a plane and visit the emerald isle for the summer? At least in Ireland I could take some pretty pictures, have something to write about for my blog. At least in Ireland I wouldn’t have to eat microwave dinners, binge-watch TV by myself, and avoid messing up the freshly cleaned everything once Martha had been through the house with her NASA-worthy cleaning weapons.
I loaded my arms with blankets and took them inside the house. “Liz?” I closed the patio door behind me with my toes.
“In here, Poppet,” she answered from her home office, in her aristocratic English accent. Poppet. Why is it that when a term of endearment isn’t delivered with any actual affection it sounds like you’re calling a barnyard animal? Perhaps a piglet?
I dumped the smoky blankets in the laundry hamper and padded down our plushly-carpeted hallway, silent as a panther. I swear you could drop a dead body down our stairs and you wouldn’t hear a thing. Targa takes off her socks just so she can feel the thick softness of our carpet with her toes. I can’t bring myself to do the same, I hate the feeling of bare feet.
“Hey,” I poked my head into Liz’s office. She was already pecking away rapid-fire on her laptop, a stack of file folders at her right hand, her Prada bi-focals perched on the end of her nose. Her hair looked like it hadn’t budged since she left at six this morning. “Got a minute?”
“Just. What is it?” She didn’t look up from the keyboard, her fingers flew even faster if that was possible. Any moment now, they could start smoking.
“I’m going to go to Ireland for the summer. Like you wanted.”
That got her attention. She looked up, lines creased her forehead as she peered over her glasses at me, her bionic fingers momentarily paused. “You are? What happened, I thought you and Targa were going to hang out, camp, that sort of thing. Isn’t that what you said last week? I’m sure that’s what you said.”
Camp? I hate camping. Seriously?
She took off her glasses and put the end bit in her mouth. I could see the gears turning, the drawers of files opening and closing in her mind as she searched for the most up to date information. “Did you and Targa have a falling out?”
Targa and I never fight. If Liz had ever seen us together or bothered to ask me anything about my best friend, she’d know that.
“No. Targa is going to Poland. Last minute decision. No point in me hanging about the house by myself all summer. I thought you’d be happy.” I stepped inside and sat in one of the two matching leather chairs facing her desk, like a client. I crossed my legs and folded my hands in my lap. Might as well play the part, make her feel at home. My physical sarcasm was lost on her.
“I am happy, Poppet. That’s great. Call Denise on Monday and she’ll set you up with flights. She’s updated your passport already, so you’re good to go.” She put her glasses on and attacked her keyboard again. Denise is Liz’s secretary. She makes sure I don’t miss a PAP test or a dental cleaning, both happen like clockwork. Thanks Denise.
“Are you going to talk to Aunt Nelda? I mean, she already said I can come, right?”
Liz didn’t look up. “Yes, Poppet. She’s good with it. Denise will settle everything with her next week. She’ll even pick you up from the train station. Nelda, not Denise, obviously.” Liz was especially adept at clarity-to-go. Maybe its a lawyer thing.
“I have to take a train?”
“Fly to Dublin, train to Anacullough. You don’t remember?” Type. Type. Type.
“I was seven.”
“Denise will explain, it’s easy. Ireland’s public transport is excellent.”
“Excellent.” I watched her type. I cleared my throat.
She blinked up at me, then back down. “You’ll have fun. Jasher will be there too, your cousin. You’ll have a friend to play with.”
Wow. Did she really just say that I’d have a friend to play with? What was I, three?
“What’s he like?”
She frowned. “I don’t know, never met him. You know that. I’m sure he’s lovely.”
“Well, how old is he? I know he’s older than me but by how much? What does he do? Is he a slo-pitch kind of guy, or a movie-buff?”
She blinked. I’d bewildered her with these questions about her adopted nephew. She wasn’t prepared. She hated not being prepared. “Ah,” she said, holding up a finger. She opened one of her many desk drawers. Rummaged. Closed the drawer. Opened another one. Rummaged. She pulled out a stack of envelopes wrapped with an elastic band. She plopped them on the edge of her desk with a thwack and set her shoulders back triumphantly. “There you are.”
“What are these?” I crossed the expanse to her desk and picked up the stack of letters. Elegant handwritten scrawl. Postmarked from Ireland.
“Letters from your Aunt Nelda. Once you’ve read those you’ll know everything I know about Jasher, and you’ll be all caught up on the goings on over there,” she waved her fingers as though doing a spell. Embarrassment magically averted.
“Looks like I’ll know more than you, Liz. Half of these aren’t even open.” I thumbed through the stack.
“Good!” She looked up and flashed me one last winning smile.
“Good,” I echoed. I stood there for a moment. For her, I was gone already. “Ok, I’m going to go numb myself with technology now.”
She glanced up as briefly as blinking. “Ok, Poppet. Have fun.”
I left, the carpet muffling the sound of my exit.
Born of Water Excerpt