CHAPTER THREE
Family Matters
Jennifer walks into her house, and, like clockwork, Becky immediately begins complaining about their brother. Jennifer closes her eyes and blocks it out. She vaguely recalls her mother telling her to watch Becky and Shawn. She needs some space and a quiet place to think. Volleyball practice was intense, but her exhaustion is more mental than physical.
She goes into the kitchen and sees that everyone has already eaten. There is a plate for her in the microwave. Jennifer grabs the plate, pours some juice, and goes into the living room.
Shawn is running around in circles with his arms out. Becky runs into the living room screaming at him about her makeup. Jen realizes she is nodding off and puts her plate beside her. Becky looks at her with tears streaming down her face.
“What is it, Becky?” Jennifer asks sleepily.
“Shawn found my makeup and he’s drawn all over my papers with it!” Becky is stricken and red. “Jennifer, look what he did!” She pulls Jennifer by the arm and practically drags her to her room. Jennifer complies groggily and walks with her sister.
She can see why Becky is so upset. Lipstick smears and marks drawn in great circles cover her vanity mirror. Foundation, creams and powders stain her bed and floor. Eyeliners and mascara lay in pitiful heaps on the floor. Little black streaks drip down her closet door. Her homework is covered in blush and lipstick as well.
“Hermanito…” Jennifer gasps. Her eyebrows crinkle as she frowns in disapproval. “Shawn!” she yells. “Shawn, get in here now!”
Her baby brother slowly creeps into the room, guilt strewn all over his face. He looks at Becky, who stops crying long enough to glare at him. He looks at her room and shakes his head.
“It wasn’t me, Jenny!” he screams in his defense, hiding his telltale hands behind his back.
“Look at the mess you made, papito!” Jennifer scolds. “You are going to help her clean this up, do you understand?”
Shawn begins to cry. “I didn’t do it!” he whines. “I just wanted her to play with me!”
“I don’t care,” Jennifer states firmly. “You know better, now go get a sponge so we can clean this up.”
Shawn knows exactly where to go. He makes messes like these regularly. He quickly returns with the necessary items and all three go to work.
They spend the better part of an hour cleaning up the mess. Becky solemnly picks up her makeup kit; now half empty.
She sniffs. “It’s not fair. Why does he have to be my brother?” She looks at Shawn when she says the word “he.” Shawn makes a face at her and sticks his tongue out. Becky’s eyes grow wide in fury, and she slings her makeup kit at him as he runs out of the room.
“I’ll get you, you little worm!” she shouts after him.
The kit briefly connects with Shawn’s shoulder before falling to the floor, spilling its recently reunited contents. Shawn cries, “You’re mean, Becky!” and runs to his room.
“I hate you!” she shouts after him. Jennifer wonders how her mom puts up with them.
“Becky,” she grabs her hand. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me is my stupid brother keeps messing with my stuff!” Becky cries.
Jennifer looks at her. “Becky, you don’t need all this stuff anyway.” She picks up the battered makeup kit.
“You wear it,” Becky sniffs.
Jennifer rolls her eyes. “Yes, but I’m in high school, Becky. I’m a teenager –”
“So am I!” Becky snaps. “I’m a teenager too, Jen! I need privacy just like you do. All the other girls wear makeup, and have cell phones, and go to the mall every weekend and have nice clothes. I have to wear your hand-me-downs and I’ll never have a cell phone or anything! I hate being in this family!”
Jennifer rolls her eyes. “Would you stop the drama, Becky? You may not have everything you want, but other people are worse off than you.”
“No they aren’t,” Becky frowns. “Everyone thinks I’m stupid, Jennifer. All the girls at my school see you and they say you’re the prettiest girl in the world, but look at me. I’m just your ugly little sister. Nobody wants to talk to me or be my friend, Jen. I’m not popular.” Becky puts her head down.
Jennifer looks at her sister in amazement. “Maybe if you’d stop trying so hard to fit in, you would have friends. Becky, if you want to be acknowledged as a grown up, then I suggest that you act a little more mature than this.” Jennifer places the battered kit on Becky’s bed.
“Life is not about being popular. It’s about doing what’s right.” Jennifer walks out of her sister’s room and into her own. She immediately dials Tammie’s number and ignores her sister’s knocking.
“Jen, can I talk to you?” Becky asks from the other side of the door.
“Not now,” Jennifer replies in annoyance.
“But it’s important,” Becky pleads. “Please, Jen?”
“I’m on the phone!” Jennifer yells. Becky continues to ask for her, but Jennifer ignores her. “Hello, Tammie?” she speaks into the receiver.
“Yeah, hey Jen!” Tammie greets. “What’s up? And what’s that noise in the background?”
“Ugh! My sister,” Jennifer replies. “Rebecca Maria Smith, knock it off!” The knocking stops and she hears her sister walk to her own room and slam the door.
“Finally,” Jennifer sighs. “Sorry about that Tammie. So, how are you?” Jen blows a strand of hair out of her face.
“I’m good,” Tammie gushes. “And girl, guess what?”
“What?” Jen asks.
“It’s official now!” Tammie squeals. “We’re a couple!”
Jen raises her eyebrows. Tammie never squeals. “You sure are getting worked up over this guy, Tammie,” Jen comments.
“Oh but Jen, he is just so amazing! I can’t wait for you to meet him! Would you like to come over this weekend?” Tammie asks.
“Like a sleepover?” Jen thinks about it. “Sounds great- oh I can’t,” Jen remembers her father. “My dad’s coming over to visit this weekend. My mom probably won’t let me stay over.”
“Well how about we just hang out Saturday?”
“That’s good, I think I can swing it,” Jennifer replies. “Hold on, there’s someone on the other line.” Jen clicks over. “Hello?”
“Jen, it’s Martin.”
Jennifer feels a mixture of emotions. She chooses to flow with the strongest of them. “What do you want?” she asks in annoyance.
“We need to talk,” Martin states.
“About what, Martin?” Jennifer scoffs. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”
“Oh, come on, Jen,” Martin is exasperated. “Why are you so mad at me?”
“Because you–” Jen can’t finish. Why is she so mad at him? Their argument doesn’t mean anything to her anymore; she has more reason to be upset with herself than anyone. Still, she can’t help feeling that he’s done something wrong.
“Because I what, Jen?” Martin asks.
“Because you’re a jerk!” she spews. Jennifer hangs up the phone and crosses her arms. Her face is red with emotion and she sits on her bed a long time, stewing.
When she realizes that she hung up on Tammie as well she quickly grabs the phone again. She redials Tammie’s number. It picks up after the first ring. “Hello? Tammie?”
“Can I help you?” Tammie asks, pretending to be hurt. “I don’t think I can help someone who leaves me hanging on the phone.”
“I’m sorry Tammie,” Jennifer says genuinely. “Martin was on the phone and I—“
“Uh huh,” Tammie hums knowingly.
“And we kind of got into it,” Jennifer finishes.
“What’s up with you two anyway?” Tammie asks.
Jen sighs, “I really don’t know. But hey, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you Saturday?”
“Yup! Later sweetie!”
Jennifer hangs up the phone and sits in silence for a moment. “God, what’s going on with me?”
/> •••
Max sets his papers on the kitchen table and sits down. He looks at the brochures and information packets on Leukemia that the head nurse gave to him. He asked her for them after one of the children kept asking him why he couldn’t go home.
“Was I bad?” the little boy had asked him. Max didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure if losing his own mother was God’s way of punishing him, so what could he tell this little boy?
He finally settled for a Sesame Street answer. “No, you weren’t bad. Sometimes bad things happen for no reason at all. We can’t really explain them. All we can do is hope that things will get better.”
This answer seemed to satisfy the little boy, but Max was a harder sell.
“Max!”
Max turns his head toward his father’s bedroom. Mr. Shaw sounds drunk. Again. His father drinks more now than he did before his mother died. His mother had been the only person keeping their family stable. As dysfunctional as they were, things were better when she was around. Now they were just… lost.
Max’s father still hasn’t found steady work. Without the support of his friend Martin and their family, Max isn’t sure what they would do.
“Max!” his father yells again. “Grab me a beer from the refrigerator!”
“All we have is water,” Max lies, hoping his father will believe him. Max hears his father muttering inaudibly in his room. Max walks to the fridge and opens it with a sigh. There is a case of beer, half of a turkey sandwich, and moldy potato salad. The turkey and potato salad are leftovers from the Thanksgiving holiday. The beer was probably purchased earlier that afternoon. Max hears his stomach growl and wonders if the West family would let him have dinner at their house.
His father receives an unemployment check every week, but Mr. Shaw has never been good with managing money. His mother had taken care of bills and did most of the cooking. Neither of them had bothered to learn to cook, so now most meals were fast food or tv dinners.
Max can’t help the tears that come, but quickly wipes them away.
“Suck it up, Max,” he says to himself. He wishes it were that easy. At least he and Martin are friends again. They used to be close before Martin became a Christian. He didn’t think they could ever be friends again after that happened, especially after he started hanging out with that snob, Jennifer.
Max remembers what she said to him in the lunch room. She’d called him trailer trash. She hadn’t said anything he hadn’t heard before, but she still managed to get under his skin. For Martin’s sake, he would try harder to be civil.
“Max!” his father calls again. Max hears his father get up and walk towards the kitchen. “What’s the matter with you, huh? Didn’t you hear me calling you?” Max winces as his father brushes past him gruffly and grabs a beer out of the refrigerator.
“Dad…” Max begins.
Mr. Shaw turns around and slams the refrigerator door. “What?” Mr. Shaw growls. “Do you think I want to be this way?”
“No,” Max says softly. “But there’s got to be a better way than this. I know you’ve been hurting since mom died—”
“No, you don’t know!” his father shouts angrily, fighting to keep back his own tears. “You don’t know what I promised her.”
Mr. Shaw lowers his head and speaks softer.
“You don’t know how I let her down.” His father wipes his eyes and is quiet for a long time. “I failed her, Max. I wasn’t a good husband.”
“Dad, I failed her too,” Max chokes on his words. “I didn’t treat her right either, but we can’t change anything.” He places his hand on his father’s shoulder, but Mr. Shaw won’t look at him. “Dad I know you’re hurting now, but I need you. You’re all I have. There has to be a better way than this.”
His father finally looks at him. “I don’t know another way, Max,” he whispers. Mr. Shaw pulls away from Max and walks slowly to his room.
Max watches his father leave and prays a desperate prayer. “God if you’re real, please help us. Please, help us get through this.”