"Every day now is the same as the one before it." I once heard Uncle Roy tell Daddy when Daddy had asked about the clock.
"Especially for Glenda. Why bother with time?"
There was no one in the dining room so I went down the hallway to the kitchen. The music was playing on a small CD player. but Aunt Glenda was nowhere in sight, However. I saw through the pantry and back door that she was out hanging wash on a clothesline. She liked it better than a dryer because she said the clothing smelled sweeter from the scents of flowers in the air. As usual, she was wearing a faded housecoat and slippers. Her dark brown hair streaked with prematurely gray strands was down to her shoulders. and I could see from the way her mouth moved that she was either talking to herself or saying some prayer to her dead daughter.
I retreated to the stairway and listened for some sounds from above to indicate Harley was up. All I heard was the faint drip, drip of a bathroom faucet.
"Harley," I called. "Are you awake?"
"No," he immediately shouted back. It made me smile.
"Talking in your sleep again?"
"Yes," he said. "Don't wake me up."
"It's late. Harley."
I started up the stairs. Harley and I hadn't grown up exactly like a brother and a sister, but we had spent so many of our young years together. I sometimes thought of him that way. Lately, if suggested it, it seemed to bother him. so I stopped.
"Are you decent?" I called from the top of the stairway. There was just a short hallway to the right that passed his bedroom and what had been Latishas nursery; there was an equally short hallway to the left that led to Uncle Roy and Aunt Glenda's bedroom and a bathroom across from that. The windows on both, ends were small, and the wood paneling was dark. Even with the bright day, it looked like a tunnel.
"Am I decent? Depends who you ask." Harley replied.
I laughed and stepped up to his bedroom doorway. He was still in bed, lying on his stomach, the pillow over his head to block out the sunshine, the blanket down to his waist. I knew from other times that he liked to sleep in his underwear.
Harley's room was half the size of mine. He had a very nice dark maple-wood bed, matching dressers and a desk Uncle Roy had actually built himself that was set to the right of his two bedroom windows. There were papers scattered in a disorganized fashion over it, two books opened and face down and a small pile of notebooks beside that. I could see his line drawings in one of the notebooks. Beside it was a book entitled. American Houses. As usual, his socks were on the floor beside the bed where he had thrown them and where he had dropped his shoes. His jeans were draped over his desk chair and the dark blue shirt he had worn yesterday was crumpled on the top of his dresser.
Unlike my room and the rooms of most of the young people our age, Harley's had no posters on its walls. He favored some rock bands, but interestingly enough he really enjoyed softer music. even Barry Manilow, although he never let anyone but me know. It was as if he believed that the moment some of his friends found out he was sensitive, he would lose face or worse yet, be challenged and teased and more vulnerable.
"I was hoping you would be up and out by now, or at least at breakfast," I told him.
He didn't turn. but I could see his eves close as if he had a terrible headache. When he sighed, his entire body lifted and fell. Finally, he turned, dropped his head back to his pillow, put his hands behind his head and looked at me.
"Roy," he began. "came in here and laid down the law last night. The bottom line was that I should be sure to make myself invisible, not annoy anyone and not embarrass him or you or the family. He makes it sound as if a wild animal like me doesn't belong in the company of you civilized folks. It doesn't exactly fill me with enthusiasm. Believe me, he'd much rather I didn't come out."
"That's not true and anyway. I would much rather you did," I tossed back at him. "This is my special day. Harley Arnold, and you had better come out. You put on your nicest clothes. too," I ordered.
He laughed.
"My nicest clothes are what your mushy kid friends knock around in."
"That's not so either. I know what you have and what you don't," I told him and went right to his closet. "You should learn how to hang up your pants and your shirts properly. Look at this mess."
"Yes, Mother."
"Never mind being a smarty pants," I said plucking the light blue shirt I liked to see him wear and a pair of slacks. "After we go swimming, come home and put this on,," I instructed. "Wear those loafers with it and a pair of blue socks. And shave! And don't tell me you don't have any aftershave." I quickly inserted. "I bought it for you on your birthday. and I know you still have plenty."
"Why do you want me there anyway? You have your friends," he said sullenly. "You've got your Chase Taylor and his mushy buddies."
"You can call Chase a lot of things. Harley, but really. I don't think he's mushy."
Harley turned a dark shade of crimson. "Yeah. I guess you would know." he muttered.
"Besides," I said ignoring his remark. "you know you're my most important friend. Harley. My birthday party wouldn't be a birthday party without you. So stop it!"
He looked instantly remorseful, turned and gazed out the window.
"From all that noise, it sounds like two birthdays are being set up out there."
"Wait until you see all that Daddy has done," I told him. "The trees have growing balloons."
He laughed.
"And Mrs. Geary has made a birthday cake to die for."
He nodded, looked down for a moment and then let his lips fold into a soft smile.
"What?" I asked expecting something that would most likely put me in a pout.
"Remember that time when-- before the guests arrived-- I put my fingers in your birthday cake and pretended they were your candles and Roy nearly exploded? I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head on little springs," He laughed.
"Sometimes I think you do bad things just to get him angry. Harley."
"No. Me?"
"You know you're hurting your mother too when you get him upset."
His smile disappeared.
"She's beyond being hurt," he said. "You've got to be able to see and smell and feel to know when you're in pain, and she's beyond that.'
"That's not true. Harley."
"It's true. Okay." he said. "I'll rise, but I'm not sure I will shine."
I stepped closer to his bed and seized his hair. He looked up surprised.
"You'll rise and you'll shine and you'll help make this the best birthday of my life, or else," I said shaking him a little harder than he anticipated.
"Ow," he cried reaching for my hand. He held my wrist a moment and looked up at me.
"You still haven't had the decency to wish me a happy birthday, Harley Arnold."
I let go of his hair, but he held my wrist.
"Happy birthday. Summer." he said and sat up, pulling me closer so he could kiss me on the cheek. His lips were very close to mine, so close that when he began to pull back, he gazed them with his mouth.
For a small moment, our eyes locked, and then I rubbed my cheek.
"Shave," I ordered.
My heart was thumping. He let go of my wrist.
"And get dressed and come out to help," I continued.
He just stared up at me, his shoulders gleaming in the sunlight that now poured through his windows.
"Okay," he said, his voice breaking, not reaching more than a whisper. He recovered quickly and gave me one of his impish smiles. "Your majesty," he added.
He started to get out of bed. I couldn't recall exactly when I had become self-conscious about his seeing me half-dressed, but he never seemed to care about my seeing him, even now. Maybe that was just something peculiar about boys. I thought, or maybe it was simply because of the way he and I had been brought up together.
Whatever the reason, it made me catch my breath in my throat. I didn't leave so much as run away.
2
The Party Begins
.
The musicians arrived well before the guests and began to tune up just as Harley stepped out of his house. He was wearing the same pair of jeans and shirt he had worn yesterday, and he hadn't brushed his hair so that strands floated down his forehead and over his eyes. Uncle Roy was always after him to get a shorter haircut and often threatened to cut it himself if he didn't. It didn't go that far, but there were times when it almost had.
"If he ever tries it," Harley growled. "he'll reget the day he was born."
Every birthday lately, I wished for two big things: Mommy being able to walk again and Harley getting along with Uncle Roy. Neither seemed possible.
"You ain't coming to this party looking like that," Uncle Roy told him as he walked up from the house.
"I'm going to change after we all go swimming. Isn't that what happens first?" he asked turning to me.
"Yes," I said.
"Lucky for the lake or he wouldn't take a bath." Uncle Roy told Daddy.
Harley's face turned white instead of red. White anger was the worst sort.
"Cmon." I said before their hot words could spark a big fire. "Help me bring out the party favors and put them on the tables."
Harley looked like the roar of rage was making him deaf to any other sound. so I lunged for his hand and pulled him toward the garage where Daddy had the favors in boxes.
"Hey," Harley cried. "Take it easy."
"We don't have all that much time," I said. "They'll all start to arrive soon."
"Right, and we can't disappoint the gang." He looked back at Daddy and Uncle Roy, his eyes still red with fury. "He's always got to say something nasty." Harley complained.
"He means well though." I said.
"Yeah, like a rattlesnake does you a favor by biting you. I can't imagine what made my mother want to marry him. but I guess when you're unwed with a kid, you can't be so choosy. You take the first offer, even if it's from a man who has a prison record."
"He doesn't have a prison record. Harley."
"Sure he does. Military prison is just as serious."
"Well, none of that mattered to your mother. They must have been in love. Harley, and they still are."
He blew air through his lips as if my words were tiny flies annoying him.
"Well. Mommy tells me they were." I insisted. "She said they just seemed to gravitate toward each other. She told me, they took long walks and talked and fell in love just the way people do."
We entered the garage and I pointed to the cartons on our left. He didn't move. Instead, he gave me that curious look, his eyes laughing but his lips stiffly tucked in at the corners.
"What?"
"And how are people supposed to fall in love. Summer?" he asked. "What is there, a formula or something? Because if there is. I'd sure like to know it."
"No, there's no formula. Don't be silly," I said.
"I'm not being silly," he asserted. "Tell me. Really," he said folding his arms across his chest. "What do you think happened to them and what happens to anyone? Do bells go off? What?"
When I didn't respond, he added. "Is that what's happened to you and Chase Taylor?"
"Stop it. Harley."
"Stop what?"
"Teasing me, making fun of everything I say."
"I'm not." he protested, his arms out. "I really want to know." The sardonic smile left his face. "Don't you believe me when I say I wonder about my mother and him all the time now? These days they barely speak to each other, and it's not just because of what happened to Latisha and the way my mother is with her religious stuff. If I didn't ask a question or burp at breakfast, it would be as if we were all in a silent movie.
"They never go anywhere, no dates, no restaurants, no movies. They don't talk about taking a vacation like your parents do. Your mother's in a wheelchair, and she does more than my mother these days. It's just as much boy's fault as it is hers."
"Why is it you never call him daddy or dad or father, ever. Harley?"
"Because... he's not my father. My father is out there," he said waving at the door. "somewhere out there. and I'm not even a passing thought in his head. How do you have a kid and not even be a little curious about him, not care at all?"
"Well. Roy cares about you. He officially adopted you, didn't he?"
"Biz deal," he said. "Who asked him to?"
"He tries to be a good father. He works hard to support you and your mother and he built a nice house and..."
"Forget it. Summer. You'll never understand," he said lowering his head.
"Why?"
"Because you're too..."
"What?" I demanded, my own anger rising like boiled milk. If he dares to say I'm too young. I thought, I'll...
"Nice," he said instead.
"What?"
"You trust everyone. I don't even trust myself," he said. He went to the cartons and began piling them in his arms.
"What's that mean? I'm too nice? You're right. Harley. I don't understand. Why does my being trusting make it impossible to understand my uncle and you and your mother?"
"Let's not talk about it today. Summer," he pleaded. "It's your special day. I'll help with what's left to be done, and then I'll go home and wait until it's time to go swimming, and then I'll go in and I'll put on the clothes you picked out. and I'll sit quietly with my hair neatly brushed and eat and..."
"And dance and have fun." I insisted.
"Okay." he said. "Put one more carton on top." "That's too many. Take those. I'll get the rest."
"Why is it everyone is so bossy here?" he moaned and started out.
I piled up the remaining cartons and followed him. Sometimes. Harley could make me feel just like a wire about to snap. I wished I could just scream and scream until the feeling was gone.
When we got to the tables, we opened the cartons and started to put the favors on the tables. Beside the printed napkins, cups and plates. Daddy had a company make a pocket makeup mirror for the girls with the date of my birthday on the top; T- shirts with a picture of the lake and today's date under it and a pen and pencil set for everyone with my dates on them as well.
"Not bad." Harley said as he unloaded the cartons. "It pays to be a friend of Summer Clarke. All the mushy kids will be in their glory."
"I told you to tell me who you wanted to invite from your school. Harley," I reminded him. "It's not my fault you didn't give Mommy and me any names and addresses."
"Right."
"Well, didn't I ask you?"
"Look. Summer. anyone I'm friendly with. Roy thinks is one step away from the gas chamber."
"Even the girls?" I pondered.
He looked at me a moment and then went back to setting out the favors.
"Harley?"
"The girls I talk to don't belong here," he said.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"There's nobody I know who's good enough," he replied.
"Harley, don't make me sound stuck-up. You could have invited anyone you wanted, isn't that so? Well, isn't it?"
"Let it go, Summer. Please," he begged. I actually saw tears in his eyes.
"Okay. I'm sorry. I just wanted to be sure you had a good time."
"I'll have a good time,Ill have a good time. If I don't. Roy will see that I'm turned into horse meat"
"Harley."
"I'm kidding,"
"I don't want you to have a good time because Uncle Roy ordered you to. I want you to have a good time because ifs my birthday and..."
He fell to his knees and clasped his hands. "Please, your majesty. Mercy." he begged.
"Oh stop it, you idiot." I pushed his head and he fell over laughing.
We both turned as a large black Mercedes drove up. I knew it was one of my best friends. Amber Simon, a dark brunette who was a little on the heavy side, but with beautiful almond eyes and a sweet disposition. She had a crush on Harley. and I think he sensed it every time she came over and spent any time with him. I tried to be a matchmaker, telling him that
if she had someone take interest in her, she would gain self-confidence, lose weight and stop eating out of frustration. His answer was that her parents should just lock her in a room. He admitted that she was nicer than most of my friends and even admitted she had a pretty face hidden under those "mushy cheeks," but he didn't show any real interest.
Amber still had hopes.
She got out and called to us. Harley leaped to his feet.
"I'd better go put on my bathing suit and help get the boats and stuff set up," he said. "I promised your father I would take care of that."
"At least say hello to her first. Harley."
He cupped his hands and screamed, "HELLO!"
Then he gave me his impish. Kevin Bacon smirk and headed back to his house, sauntering past Uncle Roy and Daddy without so much as glancing at them. They stopped talking and watched him go by, Uncle Roy shaking his head.
My heart felt heavy for Harley.
It was as if a cloud always hung above him, always casting a shadow over him, always threatening cold rain.
Even today.
Even on my birthday.
"Where's Harley going?" Amber asked, looking after him with disappointment. "He's coming to the party, isn't he?" she asked, her voice tinted with fear.
"Yes. He's just going to put on his bathing suit. He wants to get the boats, kayaks and the pedal boats set up for everyone."
"Oh."
"You brought your suit. right?"
"I hate what I look like in a bathing suit," she complained immediately.
"Didn't you bring it?"
"Yes," she admitted, swinging her bag toward me, "but Yin not putting it on."
"Of course you are," I insisted. "C'mon," I said taking her back to my house. "Let's talk before the others get here, and don't you dare do anything to make me unhappy today, Amber," I warned.