“Where?” I asked Ben.
“I saw a three-bedroom apartment in Arlington today,” Ben said. “It also has a living room, a kitchen, and a dining room. And two bathrooms. So, a bedroom for me, one for you, Matthew, and one for the girls.”
“Did you say two bathrooms?” Callie said.
“Yes.”
“Can we go see it?”
“Yes. Tomorrow morning. I gave them a deposit to hold it for a day.”
“Okay,” said Callie. “Good.” She glanced over at Aunt Bobbie’s computer, and I knew she’d be there shortly, looking up school test data for Arlington and comparing it to the data for Southie. She might not realize it, but she was already sold.
Huge doubt filled me, though. Southie was all I knew. Arlington—that wasn’t even part of Boston; it was out in the suburbs, at the whole other end of the subway line. There would be no more walks by the ocean whenever I wanted. Also, it would be harder to visit Murdoch.
But even as I had these thoughts, I also knew we had to go. A whole new start for you, Emmy. Also: two bathrooms. Three bedrooms.
And the thing that hadn’t been said: It was farther from Nikki.
Another thought occurred to me. “What about you?” I asked Aunt Bobbie. “Are you going to stay here when Nikki comes back? Or are you going to move, too?”
Aunt Bobbie’s mouth firmed into a straight, hard line. “I’m going nowhere. I own half of this house. She’ll leave before I do, I promise you that.”
“You’re not scared? Because she’ll be so angry at you.” As I said the words, I knew they were true. How could the rest of us run off to Arlington and leave Aunt Bobbie alone to face Nikki?
“I’ve known my sister a long time,” Aunt Bobbie said, which wasn’t an answer.
The idea just popped out of my mouth. “What if I stayed?” I twisted my head to look at Ben. “I could live with Aunt Bobbie, in her spare room. After all, Aunt Bobbie, you have shared custody. This way, Aunt Bobbie’s not alone here. We can keep an eye on each other. And then I would come out and see you guys on weekends in Arlington. I’ll still help with Emmy.”
Ben looked dubious, even alarmed.
“Hmm,” said Aunt Bobbie. Was that relief on her face? It was.
I wasn’t sure if this was the right thing for me to do, but if it would help Bobbie, I ought to do it, I thought. I wasn’t sure.
Then Callie grabbed her elbows and eyed me and said neutrally, “There’d be a bedroom for everyone.”
The adults had to think about it, Emmy. Callie and I both knew I was sticking her with the lion’s share of taking care of you, and like I said, you weren’t in an easy phase. But I promised Callie, privately, that if she found that she really needed me, I would come.
And so, in the end, though everybody was saying it was temporary, and “we’ll see how it goes,” and “you could move in later on, when the new school year starts in September,” I stayed with Bobbie. The week before Nikki was due to come home, you, Callie, and Ben moved into a solid-looking mid-rise brick building on Massachusetts Avenue in Arlington and I moved into Aunt Bobbie’s spare room.
41
MY OWN ROOM
My new room was directly underneath Nikki’s room in the upstairs apartment, and was the exact same size and shape, a rectangle with two tall windows. But the feeling couldn’t have been more different.
I remember vividly my first night in the room. I stayed awake on the futon just for the pleasure of being aware of where I was. Four walls around me. No one else but me there.
My room had previously been Aunt Bobbie’s home office. Aunt Bobbie had promised that we would work together to clear it out in the next few days. She had said I could paint the room any color I wanted, do anything to it I wanted. I thought about that for hours, planning my space. We had already gotten rid of my old twin bed from upstairs, which I had gotten too tall for. I would keep Aunt Bobbie’s futon to sleep on. I preferred it. In fact, I hoped never to squeeze into a twin bed again in my life.
Aunt Bobbie occasionally snored in the bedroom next door, and it was the most comforting sound I had ever heard. The thought drifted across my mind that I wouldn’t mind, someday, if I fell in love with a girl who snored. That it would mean peace to me.
42
THE ADULTS
A few days before Nikki was to be released from jail, Aunt Bobbie and I had a long, intense discussion about how to act when she got home. Nikki had been informed by the lawyer that you and Callie had moved in with Ben, and that I was with Aunt Bobbie. According to the new custody arrangement, Nikki would have monthly visitation rights for all three of us, but her rights weren’t extensive. Callie and I, for example, could refuse to see her anytime we chose. And Emmy, while you were considered too young to refuse, Nikki’s visits with you were to be supervised, either by Ben or by Bobbie. She was not supposed to be alone with you, ever.
We expected Nikki to be enraged. But would she explode immediately? Would her explosion be physical, verbal, or both? What would provoke her least—seeing us, or not seeing us?
It was strange to be debating this with Aunt Bobbie, because of course it was just the kind of debate I’d had with myself, or Callie, every day of my life. I knew there was no safe, clear answer—there had never been a way to predict Nikki—but it was good to have Aunt Bobbie on my side, discussing it.
Murdoch came by in his truck late that afternoon to get me. He had just come home.We headed to Arlington, so that he could see you and Callie and Ben, and your new apartment. Even though it was a Sunday, traffic was heavy, so it took us a while to get there. At first we were quiet. There were so many things I had wanted to talk to Murdoch about, but with him actually there, they suddenly seemed not to matter.
I settled into the passenger seat of his truck and felt myself relax.
“You’re all right, Matt?” he said to me eventually. His eyes were on the traffic. “Living with Bobbie? That wasn’t what I thought you’d do.”
“I wanted to.” I modeled my voice on his: calm, even, sure. “I really didn’t like the idea of Bobbie there alone. And she won’t leave, you know.”
“But you understand that,” Murdoch said. “That house is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, and Bobbie wants to protect her investment. She doesn’t trust Nikki to take care of it. She tells me that she’s wanted to sell it, but Nikki has never agreed.” He paused. “It’s good of you to want to protect Bobbie, Matt. I think it’s really a good idea, you being there with her right now.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
I was relieved. “I was afraid you’d think I belonged with the girls. I think that, myself. Emmy’s actually being a real pain these days.” I paused to see if Murdoch picked up on that, but he didn’t. I continued. “It won’t be simple, getting Emmy started at her new school. She’s supposed to go there tomorrow. She’ll probably tantrum or hit somebody or something.”
He was silent for a minute or two. Then he said, “But Bobbie is helping Ben, right? I think she’s even going to school with Emmy tomorrow.”
“Yes, that’s true,” I said.
“And I’m back now, too. So, that’s three adults around for Emmy. And for Callie, too.” He sounded very matter-of-fact. “Emmy needs time, but she’ll have it. And plenty of support.”
“Three adults,” I said. It was amazing to think of it. Three adults to help. Not just Callie and me alone anymore.
“Yes, that’s right. Look, Matt, it was a hard choice you made about where to live. Maybe it wasn’t entirely clear what the right thing to do was, because there were two right things.”
Murdoch had understood.
I said, “Thanks.” I cleared my throat. “So—I wanted to ask. How are you?”
“Okay,” Murdoch said. “Fine.” He maneuvered the truck into the right-hand lane of the highway and signaled for the exit ramp.
“Yeah?” I said.
“Yeah,” he repeated, and I didn’t dare—or maybe just didn’t want—to fis
h any more. It would be a long time before I would ask Murdoch directly about Julie, a long time before he told me what he really felt. What he said, instead, was, “I have a lot of work I need to catch up on.”
And we talked about that for a few minutes, and then about the new bedroom set that Aunt Bobbie had bought for you, Emmy—and you still love it, I think, though I have to say that it makes me nauseous. “Wait ’til you see it,” I told Murdoch. “All white with gold paint on the edges, and this pink canopy thing hanging over the bed. Pink curtains, too. And there’s this rug with roses all over it.”
Murdoch laughed. “Is she actually sleeping in there by herself? I thought she’d still want to be with Callie.”
“I guess she’s started out in her own room most nights. She loves the idea of it. But yeah, if she wakes up later on, she goes in with Callie.”
“Callie okay with that?”
“So far.” She didn’t have a choice, I thought.
We had reached Arlington, and I directed Murdoch to the apartment building. We took the elevator to the third floor, and the door to the apartment was hardly open before you were there, Emmy, throwing yourself at Murdoch. He caught you, and swung you into the air, then into his arms. And for the first time, I saw him smile. But all he said was, “Loosen up a little on my neck, Em, would you? I like breathing.”
Do you remember? Callie was hanging back a little at first, shy, but she was grinning, too, and she grabbed Murdoch’s free hand when he offered it. He hugged her to his side before letting go, and then he was shaking hands with Ben. But you stayed in his arms for quite a while, directing the tour. It comforted me to listen to you. It made me think that Murdoch was right, and you would settle down happily with a little more time to adjust.
“And this is our living room, and this is our kitchen, and that’s Ben’s room, and he has his own bathroom, and that’s Callie’s room, and that’s our bathroom—we have two sinks!—and here, this is my room. Everything is new! Isn’t it pretty?”
While Murdoch got the guided tour and commentary, I looked around the apartment myself, trying to see it as Murdoch would. It looked nicer now than when I had helped with the moving in and the initial unpacking. Then, it had seemed cold and almost too big, all white walls and bare windows. But now things had been put away in the bedrooms and kitchen, and Ben and Callie had hung some pictures, and curtains.
The living room actually looked cozy. Ben’s old ugly sofa had been covered with a deep red slipcover and some pillows. There was a big wooden rocking chair, too, and an oval rag rug. And a whole bunch of books had been unpacked into a little bookcase. I went closer. The bottom two shelves were devoted to Emmy’s books, while the two upper ones were crammed with medical textbooks. They belonged to Ben, I knew, but one of them was open on the floor next to the rocking chair. I stooped to read the battered spine. Human Physiology: An Introduction.
You girls were still at the back of the apartment with Murdoch, but I felt Ben come up next to me. I nodded at him and indicated the book. “Callie reading that?”
“Yes. She keeps asking me questions. It’s a good thing. I’ll need to brush up, myself. Listen, Matt—did I tell you? I’m accepted for that nurse-practitioner program in the fall, like we hoped. I just got the letter yesterday.”
“That’s great,” I said. “Congratulations. I know you’ll do really well.”
“Thanks,” Ben said. He looked pleased. “It’s going to be hard, but I’m looking forward to it. It’s amazing to look ahead and think about having my own patients. I’ll be able to write prescriptions and everything. And, well, you know. I’d like to buy a house. In a few years, it should be possible.”
“Well,” I said, “this apartment is looking good, too. I’m impressed.”
Ben shrugged, and then grinned a little. “We’re doing okay so far. I couldn’t manage without Callie, though.”
“I know,” I said. Guilt surged through me again, but all I said was, “You and Emmy doing okay?”
Ben’s shoulders moved uneasily. “We’re getting to know each other. You know. One thing that’s helping—she does love her new bedroom.”
“Ben?” I said.
“What?”
“Thanks.”
Our eyes met. Something was said that couldn’t be said aloud, not with you so nearby, Emmy. It had to do with his not being your father but stepping up to the plate anyway. And listen, Emmy, I know things didn’t end up with you living with him and Callie, and I’m not sorry—Aunt Bobbie loves you very much, and she’s kin. She was meant to be your mother. I believe that.
“No worries, Matt,” said Ben. He put a hand on my shoulder, lightly. Then I followed him into the kitchen, where something was smelling good.
It turned out that Ben was making spaghetti with meatballs. I’d had some soup at Bobbie’s just before Murdoch came to get me, but as I sniffed the air, I discovered that I was hungry again. Hungry and almost happy, for a little while.
43
HOMECOMINGS
As I think about it, I now realize that there were a lot of different homecomings for Nikki over the years. She was always disappearing for a night, or a weekend, or a few days, and we never knew what she’d be like when she came back. What we knew was that her homecoming was always the cue for a play—an elaborate production of live theater.
I was the director of our theater, arranging the stage set, telling you and Callie to take your places, prompting you to do or say this or that, whisper-feeding you lines of dialogue and bits of business. “Don’t forget to hug her!” “Go get her some Advil and a glass of water, fast.” “Ask her if she’ll help you with your homework later, she likes that.” “Stop stomping around, she’ll go ballistic.”
Of course, I had to act in the play as well as direct it. And all the while I was directing, and acting, I also had to gauge the reaction of our audience of one—Nikki—and make adjustments in our play so that it would suit her mood. Her picture of who she was.
Sometimes she wanted to play devoted mom, reading and playing with her children. There were times when she wanted to lie on her bed in silence, while we tiptoed in and out bringing her coffee or Chunky Monkey ice cream or whatever it was she wanted. Sometimes, like with the Portuguese seafood paella, she would tear the kitchen apart making some elaborate meal that we’d need to choke down. And of course, there were the times she didn’t come home alone, and the audience for our little play would be expanded by one . . . or even two. Once, she brought a whole party home. We didn’t put on a play that night. I grabbed you guys and barricaded us in our room.
I knew every move, every motion in every possible scenario, and all the plays melted together into an endless onstage nightmare, all of them beginning with the sound of the downstairs door slamming open, and her high heels clacking on the stairs. They had all been alike—even the time she came home from jail at Christmas to find us with Aunt Bobbie—because all the previous homecomings had revolved around her. Her and her needs, as I tried to anticipate them.
This last homecoming of hers was different. This time, I was the only one there. And I didn’t need to do any acting at all.
44
THIS HOMECOMING
Aunt Bobbie had meant to be present, and she would have been, if Nikki had arrived home when we thought she would, in the evening. But instead she came in the middle of the afternoon. Aunt Bobbie was still at work. The downstairs tenants were out, too. I was alone in the house, in Bobbie’s apartment. Our apartment.
I had some music on, something sort of loud and pulsing, and I was trying simultaneously to focus on my homework and the music, so that I would forget about Nikki’s intended arrival that night. Aunt Bobbie and I had opted for a plan to lock ourselves in and say nothing to Nikki until we had to.
Anyway, the music meant that I didn’t actually hear her come home. What I heard was the screaming.
Nikki had an amazing scream—and come to think of it, you do, too, Emmy, although yours is maybe a seven on
a one-to-ten scale, and hers was a twelve. Her scream started high and keening, and then it deepened in tone and turned into a blast like a foghorn. She could breathe through her nose like a dragon and keep it up for minutes.
The scream insinuated itself between me and the music. Until I took out my earbuds, though, I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was the phone.
Then I knew. She was upstairs. Early. Already. And before I even thought, I leaped to my feet and was staring up at the ceiling, my heart pounding in the old rhythms. My impulse was to go to her—to find out what was wrong, to try to make it better—and to do it just as fast as I could. I took a few steps toward the door, and the only reason I stopped was because I was suddenly hyperventilating.
She kept screaming, and ten feet below her, I bent double and tried to get air into my lungs. And as soon as I had succeeded, as soon as I had enough control over my arms and legs, I unlocked the door of Aunt Bobbie’s apartment and raced upstairs.
I could not help it. What if she’d fallen and was bleeding or something?
I slammed through Nikki’s open door. And as I did that, she finally stopped screaming.
She was standing in the upstairs hallway, just a few steps from the door. A few steps from me. For a long, long moment, we just looked at each other. In the periphery of my vision, I noticed that she had brought her pile of mail up from downstairs, where we had been collecting it for her all this time. It was scattered all over the floor of the hall. She was standing on some of it in her stocking feet.
She smiled. It was the kind of smile that doesn’t touch any part of the face except the mouth. “Hello, Matthew,” she said. Her voice was hoarse.
I inhaled. Something stank, and it was Nikki. The mingled stench of dried and fresh sweat came off her in waves. There was also something else that I couldn’t identify. She was wearing the same clothing she’d worn on the night of the accident with Julie: heavy black jeans with her trademark Celtic cross belt and a tight green sweater that was visibly dirty. Her feet were clad in sheer black socks, and as she came closer to me, swaying a little as she walked, I realized that her feet were one of the prime sources of the previously unidentified odor. I wrinkled my nose.