My life is coffee and this sofa."
From the kitchen I heard Dad laugh, fake and nervous, and then say, "Sharon?"
Grandma stood up, carefully folding the blouses she was holding across her arms, and glanced toward the kitchen. "I think I'll go to bed. Kate, darling, come with me."
"In a second," I said, looking at Todd, and as soon as Grandma left, I asked him, "What's going on with them?"
"What do you think? They're--" Todd said, and then broke off, a sad look on his face.
"This has been a pretty crappy year for you, huh?"
"You think?"
He sighed. "Fine. Don't forget to take out the trash in the morning and yes, it is your turn."
"You're so annoying," I said, but he'd already pulled the blankets back over his head.
I woke up late, and both the trash bags I lugged outside broke right before I could toss them in our bin, leaving me a pile of garbage to clean up. Not the best way to start the day of my date, and things only got worse from there. Mom wasn't up when Dad and I left for the mall, so I had to leave her a note asking her to pick me up at five, and hope that Grandma didn't lose it.
At work, Dad acted weird, and given how he usually acted, that was saying a lot. He'd seemed okay when we first got to the mall, but then Mom called the booth and whatever she said made him really upset because he said, "I'm going to get coffee," and practically ran away. It took him a long time to come back too, and when he did he just sat and stared at our display case, like he was looking for something inside it.
"Dad, if you need to go out for a while I can handle everything here," I said, and when he looked at me his smile was so painfully false I had to look at the floor.
"Are you kidding me? Miss out on a Saturday, the busiest day of the week?" he said.
"This is what I live for."
"Mom's still coming to get me at five, right? I know you guys must have talked about . . .
tonight, and I left a note, but I just wanted to make sure."
Dad was silent for a moment. "I don't know if she's coming," he finally said.
"You don't know?"
He shook his head. What was going on?
"Well, can you call her?"
"I really need to reorganize the display case, honey. But you can call and ask."
Great. Not only was Dad avoiding Mom, he was clearly not talking to her. Or worse, was afraid to talk to her. Weren't parents supposed to be, you know, adults? I called home. Grandma answered the phone.
"Hi, it's me," I told her. "Kate, I mean. Can you make sure Mom comes and gets me at five today? Because I need to come home. I--I'm sort of going out tonight."
"Darling, what did you say?" Grandma said. "Your mother's outside honking at me. Why on earth are car horns so loud? And how can she expect me to change my shoes so quickly? I mean, my outfit needs a certain kind of heel and--"
I ground my teeth together. "Remind Mom to pick me up at five, okay?"
"Darling, we'll see," she said, and hung up.
I slammed the phone down, which made me feel a little better, especially since I pretended it was Grandma's head.
"Did you talk to your mother?" Dad said.
I looked over at him, but he was kneeling, rearranging bottles inside our display case, and I couldn't see his face.
"No. Look, Dad, is something going on?"
"Everything's fine," he said, looking up at me, and he smiled so brightly I knew he was lying. I also knew that no matter how much I asked, he'd keep smiling and telling me that everything was fine.
Things went rapidly downhill after that, and by the time five o'clock rolled around, I'd decided I'd walk home if I had to because I desperately wanted to get out of the mall and away from Dad, who'd gotten quieter and quieter as people walked by, seemingly unaware of him standing eagerly by the box of free samples he'd put out. I'd wanted Dad to wake up and see that his dream wasn't coming true, but seeing him so drained, so unable to try to talk to people or even fake smile, was frightening.
"I'm going," I told him. "You want me to ask Mom to call you?"
"I'm sure we'll talk later," he said, skimming his fingers over all the bottles on display like he needed to remind himself they were there.
"Are you okay?"
"I think I can handle working by myself tonight," he said, and his smile was so sad I had to look away. He knew what I was asking, but he wasn't going to answer. I don't think that he could.
I headed out of the mall, determined to ask Mom what was going on, only to find Grandma waiting for me.
"Hello, darling," she said, motioning for me to walk beside her out to the car. "How was work?"
"Long."
"Where are you going tonight?"
"Out."
She laughed. "Darling, I was able to gather that from your extremely garbled speech on the phone earlier."
"I have a date. With the guy who called before, the one who had my shoe."
"That sounds lovely," she said, and I looked over at her. She was smiling at me, and seemed genuinely happy.
"I guess. Mom's going to be mad, though. I haven't said anything to her about Will or tonight."
"Darling, don't worry about a thing," Grandma said as we got in the car. "I'll talk to her." Nightmare visions of Mom freaking out as Grandma mentioned the night I'd arrived home in a rather disheveled manner, not to mention the phone call that made it real clear who I'd been getting disheveled with, danced through my head. "I'll do it."
"The thing is, darling," Grandma said, her hands tightening on the steering wheel, "your mother isn't feeling so well, and I think it's best if you let her rest. I'll talk to her for you later, all right?"
"Mom's sick?"
"She just needs some rest," Grandma said. "Besides, I'm sure she'd want you to go out and have a good time. What are you going to wear? How about those lovely purple boots I bought you?"
"I'm, uh, saving those," I said. "I think they might be better for later in the year." Or never.
At home, Mom was in her bedroom, but her door was shut. I could hear her moving around, though, opening dresser drawers and then closing them, but when I knocked and said, "Hey, Mom, I'm home," she just said, "Hi, honey. Can we talk later? I'm sort of busy right now."
"Oh," I said. "Sure."
By the time I was ready, I'd changed clothes four times. Well, four times plus two more.
Also, it was seven o'clock.
7:02, actually.
I went out into the living room and sat on the sofa, reminding myself that no one showed up for a date on time. Or at least, that's what I'd heard.
"What are you all dressed up for?" Todd said, coming out of the kitchen with a sandwich and sitting next to me. "Wait a minute . . are you going out?
Like, with another person?"
"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be working or out mooching off some girl?"
"You are going out! Awww, Kate has a date, how cute. What's his name?"
"Todd, darling, leave your sister alone and finish telling me about this customer who hurt your feelings," Grandma said, also coming out of the kitchen, a glass of soda filled with ice, just like always, in one hand.
"I didn't say my feelings were hurt," Todd said, flushing as I laughed. "I said . . . hey stop laughing, Kate."
"Why? Am I hurting your feelings?"
Todd threw a blanket at me, and I retaliated by kicking him and stealing the remote.
Soon we were yanking it back and forth, flipping through the channels at maximum speed and volume.
"Children," Grandma said, and then, when we ignored her, sighed dramatically and left the room. Todd and I grinned at each other for a second before we started fighting over the remote again.
"Is someone at the door?" Grandma called a moment later. It sounded like she was back in Mom's room. "I think I hear something."
"Just total silence from Kate's so-called date," Todd said as he yanked the remote away from me. "Admit you made the whole thing up and I'll let
you have half the sofa till I go out."
I took it back. "So, are you going to tell your date how a mean customer hurt your little feelings?" "Don't worry children," Grandma said, coming back into the living room. "I'll get the door."
Todd and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. I turned the television down, figuring that would make her happy, and made a face at Todd when he took the remote away again.
"Sucker," he said, and as I stuck my tongue out at him and jammed my elbow into his side, Will walked into the room, followed by Grandma.
Perfect. Just perfect.
"Oh, hey, your date did show up," Todd said, grinning at me. "I guess you didn't make the whole thing up after all."
If looks could kill, Todd would have died a slow, gruesome death. But they couldn't, so I settled for mashing my foot into his.
"Well, I can see we shouldn't wait for Kate to introduce us," Grandma said. "I'm Rose."
Thank you, Grandma. I glared at her, but of course she didn't see it.
"Hi, I'm Will," Will said. "I think we've spoken before. I called--"
"Oh yes," Grandma said, beaming. "The young man with the shoe. You know, you have really lovely teeth. Not that I'm saying you're unattractive or anything, mind you, although I do find young men's hairstyles rather odd these days."
"Um, thank you," Will said.
"Me and Will should probably get going," I said, but Grandma shook her head.
"Darling, we're chatting," she said, and smiled at Will. "Tell me, have you had braces?" I stared at her. Why, oh why, had the universe gifted Grandma with the power of speech? WHY?
Will shook his head, looking a little confused. Todd shot me a sympathetic look, which just showed how bad things were.
"Okay, we're going now," I said. "Grandma, will you tell Mom I left?"
And then, before she could say anything else, I grabbed Will's arm and headed for the door. I didn't run, because that would have looked desperate.
I just walked really, really fast instead.
Chapter Thirty- one
Outside, I dropped his arm, mostly because I
wanted to keep holding it and knew that would look strange or desperate or both. And right now I needed to appear normal. Or as normal as I could after what had just happened.
"Sorry about all that. My grandmother . . . well, it's like there's her world and then the real world."
"Hey, at least your grandmother talks to you," he said, heading toward a car parked at the end of our driveway. I followed, and then I was getting into a guy's car. I was getting into Will's car!
Normal, I reminded myself. Speaking is normal. Passing out because you have gotten into someone's car isn't. "Your grandmother doesn't talk to you?" He shook his head. "Nope. My mom's mom died when I was little, and my dad's mom hasn't talked to us in years."
"My mom and grandmother didn't talk for a long time when my mom was younger," I said. "Sometimes I think they should have kept the silence thing going. Family stuff is weird, isn't it? Everyone knows about my dad and his vitamin thing, but no one knows how freakish my grandmother is, and I've never heard anyone at school talk about your .
. ."I trailed off.
He grinned at me before he pulled out onto the street. "So, you listen when people talk about me, huh?"
"No! I mean, I hear stuff sometimes, but it's hard not to since you've hooked up with half the girls in school."
"I haven't hooked up with half the girls in school."
"Okay, a third."
He looked at me for a second, then back at the road. "Did your father get fired for trying to sell Perfect You stuff during a meeting, or because he sold his boss a bottle of vitamins that made him sick?"
"What? That's not what happened. He quit his job and then he started selling all the Perfect You stuff."
"But I heard--"
"You heard wrong."
"Exactly," he said. "Do you see what I mean?"
Now I looked at him, thinking about what he'd said.
"Just so you know, the ten-second rule is in effect," Will said. "One more and you officially agree with me."
"You wish," I said. "And okay, you're saying people make up stuff about how many girls you've hooked up with? You forget, I've seen you in the halls at school."
"How many girls have you seen me with this year?" He looked over at me, grinning. "I know you know."
"I don't!" I did. Four. "But why would people make up stuff about you?"
"Why do people make up stuff about your dad? I figure they need something to talk about."
"How profound."
"Is that your way of saying I'm right?"
"It's my way of saying you're full of crap."
He laughed. And then didn't say anything.
"Ten-second rule," I told him.
He looked over at me. "Okay," he said, his voice quiet. "I did hook up with a bunch of girls freshman year. Some stuff happened right before school started and I . . I don't know. I was hanging out with Sam a lot back then, and we'd go to parties where all these girls would be throwing themselves at him, and even Sam can only handle so many at one time, so--"
"Let me guess. You helped him out."
"I hate it when you look at me like I'm something you've found on the bottom of your shoe, Kate. I wasn't lying to you before."
"You just said you hooked up with tons of girls after telling me you hadn't."
"It was last year, and it wasn't tons, or a third of the school, or half, or anything like that.
But people talked, and you know how that is." "I suppose next you'll be telling me you only did it until you realized that, deep down, you hated yourself and that being with all those girls made you feel less empty inside. "
"Wow, that's insightful," he said, his voice low and furious. "You know what I don't get about you? Why you always think the worst about me, and why, in spite of that, you still seem to like me. At least sometimes." He turned the radio on, turning it up so loud there was no way he could hear anything I had to say.
But I didn't have anything to say. I just sat there, wondering if he was right about me.
Did I always think the worst about him?
I used to. But Will was the only person to ever ask me about Anna. He also hadn't ever said anything bad about Dad, or even laughed at him, and that horrible day when everyone at school found out about Dad's new career, he'd been the one person who hadn't cared about what had happened. He'd just wanted to know if I'd run off crying. If I was okay.
And when things with Anna started to change, when we became friends again, he'd been the one person--the only person--I'd thought of telling. That I'd even wanted to tell. Recently whenever something happened, he was the first person I thought of. The first one I wanted to talk to.
"I don't always think the worst about you," I said. Actually, I had to shout it, only I shouted when the song that was playing got quiet and so I ended up sounding like . . .
well, me.
His mouth quirked up at the corners briefly, and then he leaned over and turned the radio off. "Okay I heard that."
And then he didn't say anything else. "All right, what is this?" I said when I couldn't stand the silence any longer. I think I lasted about thirty seconds.
"What's what?"
"The whole silence thing."
He shrugged.
"Okay, so I'm, what, supposed to forget everything you said about last year? I mean, you admitted that--"
"Everything I said? Why would you even listen to a guy who'd use girls to forget how empty he felt?"
"Look, I was mad."
"Never would have guessed."
"And now you're mad."
"Let's just say your little speech didn't make my day."
"I don't think you're that kind of guy, okay? I just--" I took a deep breath. It was weird, but I really wasn't used to talking to anybody. Really talking, that is. "What happened last year? Besides the stuff we both already know about, I mean. You said something happened bef
ore school started . ."
He was silent for a moment.
"My father," he finally said. "I found out that the guy who'd left me and mom when I was six and hadn't ever bothered to send money or even call, was living in Alaska with a girl who's maybe five years older than me, and that they had a kid. He was so proud of that, of his new son, that he'd made a fucking website devoted to him and then had the nerve to track down Mom's e-mail address and send her a link to let her know he'd put his life back together, and hey, wasn't she happy for him and his new family?" "Oh."
"Yeah. And I . . . look, it messed me up. I'm not saying that as an excuse for last year because--well, because it sounds like something he'd say Or that I imagine he'd say, anyway. But it really sucked to have my father finally show up in a fucking e-mail about his new family and to have him not say he was sorry or even ask about--" He broke off, shaking his head. "Never mind."
I could guess what he hadn't said. "He didn't even ask about you."
"Not a single question. Not even a 'Tell Will hello.' It's like he forgot I exist. And all last year I went to that website and saw pictures of him and his new family and I just--I didn't even hate him, you know? I mean, I did, but more than that, I wanted to know why he left in the first place."
I nodded, thinking of how I'd felt when I'd first seen Anna hanging out with Diane, of how much I'd longed to hate her and even did, a little, but mostly wanted to know what I'd done to make her forget me, and why it was so easy for her to do it. "I know what you mean."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." And now I knew there was someone else who understood what it was like to wake up one morning and find out you didn't matter anymore. Strange that of all people, it would be Will.
We slowed down and turned into the parking lot of the pizza place everyone went to.
"Do you want to go in?" he said. "I don't know. I sort of feel like casual conversation about pizza crust preferences and toppings isn't going to work now."
"Yeah," he said. "We could get a burger or something and then go to the park."
"Sure, because I wasn't listening when you admitted that you spent plenty of time last year doing stuff just like this."
His mouth quirked up again. "I never did this."
"What, talked first?"