Chapter 13

“And that’s the whole story,” Annie said to her grandmother Saturday evening. “It started with me being angry at Mrs. King, and ends with Torey and Chris and Murray all angry at me.”

“And what about your father?” her grandmother asked.

Annie shrugged her shoulders. “He’s angry too,” she said. “We’re still speaking, which is more than I can say about anyone else right now. But we haven’t talked about our fight. Mostly we just grunt.”

“I noticed you didn’t say much to Robin either,” her grandmother pointed out.

“I’m scared to,” Annie said. “That’s the truth. I’m afraid whatever I’ll say will be the wrong thing. And I know she’s here mostly to see Tim, and I’m afraid if I say anything about that, she’ll think I’m offended or something, and then we’ll end up getting into a fight, and that’s the last thing I want right now. So I figured I’d keep quiet, at least until I had a chance to talk things over with you. What have I been doing wrong? I mean, I know I must be doing something, since everybody’s mad at me, and I’m mad at everybody right back. But I can’t figure out what I’m supposed to do about it.”

“Ah,” her grandmother said. “You want me to solve all your problems.”

“I wish you would,” Annie replied. “I reread Make Your Anger Work for You three times, but it didn’t have the right answers anymore. Besides, solving problems is the function of grandmothers.”

“If it is, I wouldn’t mind a grandmother of my own,” Annie’s grandmother declared.

Annie smiled. Her grandmother was terrific. She wasn’t the sit-at-home-and-bake-cookies sort of grandmother, and when Annie was a kid, she’d almost been jealous of kids with more traditional grandmothers. But now that she was older, she couldn’t imagine a better sort of grandmother. She remembered Torey’s description, the grandmother with the swimming pool, and felt bad all over again.

“So, Nana,” Annie said. “What’s the solution?”

“To the crisis in the Middle East?” her grandmother replied.

“To my crisis,” Annie said.

“That you have to figure out for yourself,” her grandmother declared. “I can only solve international crises, not personal ones.”

“Do you think I should just go back and grovel?” Annie asked. “Make nicey-nice with everybody until they forgive me?”

“Do you?” her grandmother asked.

Annie made a face. “It’s not my style,” she said.

“What is your style?” her grandmother asked.

“I’m not sure anymore,” Annie said. “I’ve been through so many changes in the past few months. Last year, I probably would have just put up with all of it, accepted the assistant editorship, never fought with Dad, just let Chris and Torey say whatever they wanted to me. But that was before Image.”

“And Murray?” her grandmother said. “How would you have behaved with him before Image?”

“Like he was a grownup, and I was a kid,” Annie said.

“And how did you behave with him?”

“Like he was a grownup and I was a kid,” Annie said, and she smiled. “Only instead of being respectful, the way I used to be, I was petulant. He didn’t give me what I wanted so I had a temper tantrum.”

“You were always great on tantrums,” her grandmother declared. “You threw one in a supermarket once when you were four years old. I’m amazed I’m still speaking to you.”

“I’m glad you are,” Annie said. “I wish Murray were.”

“He might be,” her grandmother replied. “I am, after all. Murray sounds like a man who likes to have protégées. He lives through the success of other people. It’s as important to him as his own. People like that can usually put up with temper tantrums fairly well.”

“He told me once he likes his temperamental clients best,” Annie said. “And he does like to scream a lot.”

“Do you feel as if you’ve learned everything you can from him?” her grandmother asked.

Annie shook her head immediately. “Absolutely not,” she declared.

“And do you want to go on working for him?”

“Very much,” Annie said. “Enough to call him up when I get back and see where things are between us. I was unfair to him. I can see that now. Half the reason I got so mad at him was that I was mad at Torey and Chris. And at myself for not knowing how to handle Torey and Chris. And then I took it out on Dad too. Nana, I’ve made an awful mess of things.”

“Life is like that,” her grandmother declared. “A very messy business. If it weren’t, we’d all be bored and grandmothers would be out of business.”

Annie laughed. “We’re on a roll here,” she said. “Do you want to tell me what to do about Dad now.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” her grandmother said. “Except the things you know; for instance, that your father loves you very much.”

“I love him too,” Annie said.

“Enough to have a serious conversation with him?” her grandmother asked. “No screaming, just talking and listening?”

“You’re asking a lot,” Annie said. “But it’s worth a try.”

Her grandmother nodded. “Boyfriends, girlfriends, bosses, they come and go,” she declared. “Fathers you’re stuck with. They’re worth the extra effort.”

“I haven’t been real good at extra effort lately,” Annie said. “Everything happened all at once, you know? School, and then the job, and Chris. And I’m still trying to hold on to last summer, not lose Torey and Ashley and what I was at Image. And I’m so impatient to get on with things, finish with high school, see what college is like, make new friends. I want everything, Nana.”

“Welcome to the club,” her grandmother said.

Annie thought for a moment. “I owe Mrs. King a thank you,” she said. “Although I won’t tell her, because she’d misinterpret it. But she was right. I did lose my amateur standing last summer. If I’d gotten the editorship, it wouldn’t have been enough to satisfy me, and I wouldn’t have known why I was unhappy all year long. I would have wanted more than the paper could give me. I’m real good at that, wanting more than what’s available. It wasn’t enough for me to see you and Robin, Tim too, for that matter. I wanted Torey here as well. And when I didn’t get my own way, I had another dumb tantrum.”

“You sound as if you’re describing Ashley,” her grandmother said.

“I do, don’t I,” Annie said. “Only Ashley has her tantrums on motorcycles. I have mine standing still.”

“Good,” her grandmother said. “Keep it that way, please. I have always wanted to be a great grandmother.”

Annie laughed. “I’ll do my best,” she promised. “I’ve spent so much of this year trying to get even, that I’ve lost track of all the things I really want. I do sound like Ashley, don’t I.”

“Do you want to talk to Ashley?” her grandmother asked.

“I’d love to,” Annie said. “How did you know?”

“Psychic powers,” her grandmother replied. “Besides, problems with contemporaries are best discussed with contemporaries. So call her.”

“It’s long distance,” Annie said.

“So you’ll be forever in my debt,” her grandmother said.

“I already am,” Annie said, and as she got up, she gave her grandmother a big kiss. “I’ll name my first three children after you.”

“Not in my lifetime, you won’t,” her grandmother said.

“All right then, I’ll dedicate my first Pulitzer Prize to you instead,” Annie said. “Satisfied?”

Her grandmother nodded. “Remarkably satisfied,” she replied. “Now make that phone call.”

So Annie did. She went through the suspense of hearing the phone ring several times before someone picked it up and assured her that Ashley was indeed in.

“Annie?” Ashley squealed. “Is that you? Is that really you? Where are you?”

“At my grandmother’s,” Annie replied. “How are you, Ashley? How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling better about things, actually,” Ashley said. “Not great, of course. We shouldn’t expect miracles in Missouri. But better. More human if you know what I mean. How are you? What’s new? Did you get my letters?”

“All of them,” Annie said. “Well, I assume all of them. You write a lot of letters, Ashley. I’m sorry I’m so slow about answering them.”

“This phone call counts for twenty letters,” Ashley declared. “And a couple of mailgrams as well. I can’t get over your calling me. I feel so isolated out here, and the summer just seems to be slipping away, and I send out my letters and wait for answers, which rarely come, although Torey is pretty good about it, and I’m complaining again, aren’t I. I’ve made a solemn vow to stop complaining so much, and here I am doing it anyway. That’s just like me. Complaining and jabbering. So I’ll stop. You complain instead.”

Annie laughed. “It’s fun to hear you complain and jabber,” she declared. “Actually it’s fun to hear anybody complain and jabber who isn’t me, if you know what I mean.”

“You have problems?” Ashley asked.

“Big ones,” Annie said. “And one of them is Torey.”

“I’m listening,” Ashley said, so Annie told her about the fight she’d had with Torey. She tried to remember what they’d both said, and she was reasonably sure she was being fair to Torey.

“Something’s going on with Torey,” Ashley declared when Annie had finished her story. “I’m not quite sure what it is, but I get the feeling things aren’t going well at home.”

“Things are never going well there,” Annie said. “There are always problems with Torey’s family.”

Ashley laughed. “Torey’s family might have problems,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean they don’t get worse sometimes, or better others. And Torey might feel less able to handle things right now.”

“Because of Image,” Annie said. “Boy, if it was hard for me to go back to my happy middle-class life after a summer there, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for Torey.”

“No, you can’t,” Ashley said. “You can’t begin to imagine.”

Annie got the uncomfortable feeling she couldn’t imagine how things were for Ashley either. “I forget sometimes,” she said, “that my life isn’t the only one that’s changing.”

“You’re one step ahead of me, then,” Ashley said. “I’m only just learning that. I haven’t begun to forget it.”

“I feel terrible,” Annie said. “I acted as though we were back at the Abigail Adams, and we were forcing Torey to join us, because we knew she’d enjoy herself if we did. Only we’re not there anymore, and her life isn’t anything like what it was last summer, and she must hate me for acting like it is. Do you think I should call her right now to apologize?”

“No,” Ashley said. “I don’t. You didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, and it sounds as though Torey overreacted. Torey isn’t perfect, you know. She has to grow up too, same as the rest of us. But the next time you call her, try to remember that things are real bad for her and her family, and that’s her reality, whether we like it or not. It isn’t always easy to remember that, that we all have our own different universes, but that’s the truth of the matter, whether we like it or not.”

“Tell me about it,” Annie said. “Want to hear about the mess I made with my boyfriend?”

“Are you kidding?” Ashley said. “Of course I do. What a silly question.”

“His name is Chris …” Annie began.

“I know all about him,” Ashley declared. “Robin wrote to me about him. He goes to Harvard and he’s gorgeous. But she didn’t mention any mess.”

“She didn’t know about it,” Annie said.

“And you’re telling me instead?” Ashley said. “I’m flattered.”

“You might understand better,” Annie said. “Ashley, your family is kind of weird …”

“Thanks, Annie,” Ashley said. “That’s very tactfully put.”

“Oh,” Annie said. “I mean, well …”

“My family is colorful,” Ashley said. “How’s that?”

“Colorful,” Annie said. “And Chris has a father who’s real colorful too, and he and I got into a fight over him, and I honestly don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Well, if you told Chris his father was weird, that might be a start,” Ashley said. “Tell your colorful Aunt Ashley everything.”

Annie did. “Was it my fault?” she asked, once she’d finished.

“Not completely,” Ashley replied. “It sounds like Chris had a lousy time with his father, and was dreading the wedding, and needed somebody to get angry at, and you won. Congratulations.”

“But I was partly wrong,” Annie said.

“What do you think?” Ashley asked. “Oh, Miss Innocent.”

“I was partly wrong,” Annie admitted. “I guess I did flirt with Chris’s father a little, and then I made matters worse by telling Chris what I thought about his father.”

“Good thinking,” Ashley said. “I wasn’t thrilled when you said my family was weird just now, and we certainly are. Families are off limits, Annie. I may know my mother’s a drunk, but if anybody even hints that to me, they’re dead meat. Those are the rules.”

“I know,” Annie said. “You’re right. I lost track of the rules.”

“Believe me, I understand,” Ashley said. “Rules are very shifty things.”

“So you think I should apologize to Chris?” Annie asked.

“I don’t think you should apologize to anybody,” Ashley said. “I never apologize, and see how far it’s gotten me.”

Annie considered saying ten different things, and chose not to say anything.

“If you still care about Chris, you should let him know,” Ashley declared. “That’s all. And thank you for not saying anything.”

“You’re welcome,” Annie said. “I’ve been speaking a lot without thinking lately. It’s about time I thought first.”

“A lovely sentiment,” Ashley said. “Work it up in needlepoint, and I’ll be the first to buy it.”

Annie laughed. “Were you always this smart, Ashley, or is this something new?”

“A little of both,” Ashley said. “You were too awed last summer by my flashy exterior to notice just how brilliant and insightful my interior was.”

“Well now I know,” Annie said. “Next time I need somebody to straighten me out, I’ll know where to turn.”

“If you behave yourself, you won’t need anyone else’s help,” Ashley said, whooping with laughter. “Oh, if I only followed my own advice, my life would be so much easier!”

“Life is a mess,” Annie said. “I have that on excellent authority.”

“It’s certainly true for me,” Ashley said. “Do you think you might call me sometime, when things are going well?”

Annie had a quick image of Ashley flash through her mind. Was Ashley angry? Did she feel used? No, Annie decided. Ashley was grateful to be needed, in a way Annie would never have been. “I promise I will,” Annie said. “Or answer some of your letters, or generally do a better job of staying in touch. Maybe we’ll even get together soon.”

“I’d like that,” Ashley said. “And I want to know how things go with Chris.”

“I’ll be sure to tell you,” Annie said. “I owe you that.”

“And take it easy with Torey,” Ashley said. “You might even write, rather than call her. Whatever it is she’s going through, she isn’t ready to share it, and you know how she cherishes her privacy.”

“Remind me to ask your advice more often,” Annie said.

“Remind me to take it myself,” Ashley said. “Give my love to Robin.”

“I’ll do that,” Annie promised, and after exchanging goodbyes they hung up. All she had to do was find exactly the right words for Torey and Chris and Murray and her father, and things would be all right again. Maybe not the same as they had been before. Maybe worse, and just maybe better. But certainly all right.

“Are you mad at me?” Robin asked Annie later that night.

“Absolutely not,” Annie said. “I’ve been mad at the world lately, myself included, but you were the one exception.”

“I’m glad,” Robin said, sitting on Annie’s bed. “I thought you might be, because you’ve hardly been speaking to me since I got here.”

“Be grateful,” Annie said. “All you missed was endless ranting from me about my problems.”

“Sounds like fun,” Robin said. “Want to talk about them now?”

“No,” Annie said. “Because now I know what I have to do to solve my problems, and the only thing that remains for me to do is solve them.”

“I wish my life was that simple,” Robin said with a sigh. “Easy-to-define problems with ready-made solutions.”

“What’s the matter?” Annie asked.

“Nothing,” Robin replied. “Everything. I miss Tim so much, and then we tried to cram everything into three hours tonight, and all we ended up feeling was harried and frustrated and ill at ease.”

“Sounds great,” Annie said. “Not unlike my own life lately.”

“We had this fabulous summer, practically unbelievable in its wonderfulness, and then we go back to our worlds, and things just stink,” Robin said.

“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” Annie said. “For a few weeks there, my life was as good as it was last summer.”

“But then things got bad again,” Robin said. “Right?”

“I made some mistakes,” Annie said. “Not irreversible ones, I hope.”

“Well I haven’t made any mistakes, and I’m ready to scream,” Robin said. “I go to school and I’m bored, and some boy asks me out, somebody I’d have been thrilled to be asked out by last year, and half of me wants to say yes, and the other half thinks of Tim and wants to say no, and I don’t know that Tim isn’t dating anybody else. He told me tonight he isn’t, but even if he’s telling the truth, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t go out with other people. Girls. He should go out with girls, and I should go out with boys, because after all, we’re seventeen years old, and live hundreds of miles apart, and it’s crazy for us to remain faithful. What do you think?”

Annie laughed. “I think you and Tim had better work that out for yourselves,” she said. “The way I’ve been running my life lately, I’m the last person to be giving advice.”

“Do you think things are ever going to get back to normal?” Robin asked. “The way we were before the internship?”

“Do you want things to be like that?” Annie asked.

Robin shook her head. “I thought I was happy, but I was half dead,” she declared. “I had been ever since Caro died. I did everything I was supposed to, and I fooled a lot of people into thinking I was the average American girl, great demographics and all that, but I didn’t care. Image forced me out of that. Sure, I’m bored this year, and discontented, and I don’t have the slightest idea what to do about Tim, but that’s all because I’m alive again. My mother can see the difference. She’s the only one I know who can, but a couple of days after I got back, we were just talking, and I guess I was telling her about the fashion shoot I went on, and she started crying.”

“Really?” Annie said, trying to picture the scene.

“I got really worried,” Robin said. “Mom cried all the time after Caro died, but since then she’s hardly cried at all. Not even at sad movies. And there I was, telling her about getting up at that ungodly hour and Torey whispering ‘have fun’ to us, and she started crying. I got panicked, and Mom started laughing, which only made me worry more, but then she said it was because I sounded so happy. Happier than I’d been in years. And she was right, and I started crying then too, and it felt good. We were both total messes, but it felt good.”

“Life is a mess,” Annie said. “But not all messes are bad.”

“You’ve been talking to your grandmother again,” Robin declared. “You’re always a lot smarter after you’ve been talking to her.”

“I’ve been growing up too,” Annie said. “Isn’t that funny? I didn’t realize it until just this moment. I’ve been stretching lately, and it isn’t always easy, and I haven’t done a consistently great job of it, but I’m definitely growing up.”

“So that’s what this is,” Robin said. “Growing pains.”

Annie nodded. “Think you can learn to live with them?”

“Do I have a choice in the matter?” Robin asked.

“Not that I know of,” Annie replied.

“Then I might as well stretch,” Robin said. “Just as long as you promise to stretch along with me.”