As I walked through my living room, I saw through the window as Trisha drove into her garage. Which meant Megan would be home in another ten to fifteen minutes. And what was I to do with her? I had three fifteen-year-old girls, and Megan was the only one inflicting classic teenaged girl behavior upon me. The other two smiled occasionally in my direction, answered direct questions, did an occasional chore and, rarely, started a conversation. But Megan? Megan has decided for some reason that she hates me. I think it’s because I’m her mother. She doesn’t have the angst the other two girls have of having lost a mother. Megan has the one she was born with, and I think that’s pissing her off.
How do you tell a fifteen-year-old drama queen how lucky she is to have an intact family? Well, almost intact. Intact until two days ago. Well, you don’t, that’s how. She would totally deny that having an intact family was somehow better than having had your family all killed around you, like Bess, or having your mother drop you off on the nearest doorstep, like Alicia. Of the three girls, I worried about Megan the most. She was as smart as the other two, as pretty, and in some ways as nice, but she was less cautious, extremely so. She’s the one who’d end up with an over-aged boyfriend, the one who was going to try a drug just because she never had, the one who’d worry if she hadn’t lost her virginity by a certain age. Unfortunately Megan was a leader, not a follower. I didn’t have to worry about her friends leading her astray. I had to worry about her sisters following her into hell.
The front door burst open and Megan was home.
‘Mom!’ she said, running into the family room where I’d finally come to light.
‘Right here,’ I said, turning the page in a book I was pretending to read.
‘OK, Mom, look at me!’ Megan said, grabbing my hands which made my book fall closed in my lap.
‘What?’ I said, half laughing.
‘Mrs McClure just came home—’
‘I saw—’
‘And her hair wasn’t done!’ my daughter said, flinging my hands down and standing back in triumph, arms crossing her chest.
I shook my head in confusion. ‘What?’
‘No color either!’ she said, clipping her words. ‘What do you say to that?’
‘I’m not sure—’
‘It was all messed up like she’d been driving in a convertible or something, and Mom?’
‘Yes, honey?’
‘She. Doesn’t. Have. A. Convertible.’
‘That’s true.’ I took a deep breath. Somehow there was something here that could become a bonding moment between me and my oldest daughter. I didn’t want to blow it. ‘Could you possibly be more concise?’ I finally said.
‘Do you need me to spell it out?’ Megan demanded.
I didn’t want to say ‘yes,’ but that was the right answer. ‘Just lay it out for me,’ I said instead.
‘OK,’ Megan said, sitting down beside me. ‘Mrs Mc leaves this morning saying she’s going to the hairdresser. You and I both know she used that same excuse last week, and she doesn’t have the kind of do that needs doing every week, right?’
‘Right.’
‘She’s a definitely wash-your-hair-in-the-shower-every-morning kind of woman, right?’
‘Right.’
‘So you decide she must be getting it colored, right?’
Finally this very vague conversation at Trisha’s house came back to me. ‘Right,’ I said.
‘Except she just came home and her hair has NOT. BEEN. COLORED.’
‘Highlights?’
‘Nope.’
‘Shine?’
‘Nope.’
‘Maybe she got waxed?’
Megan shook her head. ‘Wasn’t walking funny.’
‘Her face?’
‘Wasn’t red. Still had on the same make-up.’
‘Mani-pedi!’ I declared loudly.
‘Not unless she chewed it off on the way home.’
‘Damn,’ I said.
‘You are echoing my sentiments.’
‘So what are you saying?’ I asked my daughter.
She was silent for a long moment, then finally turned her head away to stare at someplace other than my face. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I dunno.’
‘She lied to both of us,’ I said.
‘Exactly!’ Megan said, turning back around to face me. Then she touched a finger to her chin and frowned. ‘But why?’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I can think of a couple of reasons to lie to the babysitter, but not so many to lie to a friend.’
‘Why would you lie to a babysitter? When did you lie to a babysitter? What about? Which babysitter? Melissa? Did you lie to Melissa? What about?’ Megan started.
‘Yes, I lied to Melissa. I told her you were normal,’ I said.
‘Mother!’
‘I’m thinking.’
So we sat there on the sofa thinking. I knew what it was, but I didn’t want to say it in front of my daughter. This was something she was too young to get involved in.
Megan finally broke the silence. ‘She’s having an affair!’ she said.
Well, so much for her being too young. ‘I’m sure that’s not it,’ I lied. ‘I’ll talk to her.’ I stood up and said, ‘What would you like for lunch?’
‘So Mom agrees with me,’ I told Azalea. ‘The woman is definitely having an affair. Next time I babysit for her, get Donzel—’
‘Girl, he’s working!’ Azalea said.
‘Then borrow his car!’ I suggested.
‘I can’t borrow his car! I don’t have a license!’
‘What difference does that make?’
‘About $200! That’s the difference between me getting caught without a license and not driving AT ALL!’
‘See if D’Wanda will do it!’
‘Are you stupid? We’re twins! D’Wanda’s the same damn age I am!’
‘So what are we gonna do?’
‘Well, if your mom agrees with you, have her follow Mrs Mc!’
I thought about it for a moment. ‘That’s an idea worth contemplating,’ I said and hung up. I sat there on my bed and thought about it. There’s no way Mom would follow her on my say so. Besides, if she did follow her and find out Mrs Mc was diddling the butcher, or whatever, she’d never tell me. I swear, she was shocked when I used the word ‘affair.’ I mean, did she raise me under a rock? Have I not been exposed to television, the internet, movies, radio? Do I not READ? Be that as it may, there was no way she’d consider me her partner in this. But just look what all Bess and Graham and I accomplished last year when that crazy guy was stalking Bess! Well, it was mostly me and Bess. Of course, I did all the dangerous stuff.
I sat up in bed like there was a cartoon bubble on top of my head with a light bulb in it! (That’s cartoon-speak for an idea, in case you live in Outer Mongolia and never saw a cartoon.) Bess! We could figure a way through this together. I’d grab her the minute she walked in!
That night I lay in bed, my mind going nuts. I do not condone extra-marital affairs. Neither does Willis. At least, that’s what he told me. And I believed him. I knew he had a problem with me playing amateur sleuth, but let’s face it, not that big a problem. Until now. So what made now different? Another woman, that’s what. He seemed quite eager to move out of the house. Even more eager not to come back. Hell, if Trisha McClure, who seemed like the perfect little hausfrau, could be bonking someone on the side, why not my husband?
Then it hit me. It was my husband! Trisha and Willis were having an affair! How could this have happened? And how had I missed it? He always said he loved a big woman! Trisha’s barely five foot two! Weighs less than a hundred pounds! He lied! Or his taste changed. Oh my God, his taste changed! My grandmother always said your taste changes every seven years. But she was talking about food – like you didn’t like black-eyed peas when you were a child, then started liking them as an adult. That sort of taste. But I wondered if maybe it went for other kinds of taste, too? Maybe as he got older and, let’s face it, weaker, he felt the need to feel more powerful and to be able to protect his woman. At five foot eleven and one hundred and eighty (which I no longer am – one hundred and forty-five now, thank you very much), I’m not necessarily the weaker sex and need little protecting. Maybe that was part of the whole sleuthing thing. He felt I was always putting myself in jeopardy and he was rarely needed to save my ass. Well, if what he wanted was some fluffy little Barbie doll, then he could have her. I had no intention of changing. How could I? My basic anatomy was what it was. And you know, I was almost beginning to think of Trisha as a friend. And then she goes and steals my husband! I thought about heading to our smallish liquor cabinet for solace, but decided a nap would probably be a better idea.
The phone woke me up an hour later. By the third ring, no one else in the house had answered so I picked it up. ‘Hello?’
‘Hey, it’s me,’ Willis said.
I couldn’t catch my breath. The son-of-a-bitch! The nerve calling here when he was out bonking my almost-friend and neighbor. Then I remembered I had no proof of any of this. Just conjecture. So I said, ‘What do you want?’
‘I need to come by and get some of my stuff. I thought I’d call first and make arrangements.’
‘What kind of arrangements?’ I asked.
‘If you don’t want to see me, then you can set a time when you won’t be home and I’ll come then. Or whatever.’
A thought struck me: should I make him leave his key? I had no idea on the etiquette of separation.
‘I have no problem seeing you, Willis. Come whenever you want. The kids aren’t home right now, so that’s up to you.’
‘Maybe we’ll get a chance to talk if I come over now,’ he said.
Tears sprang to my eyes. He’s going to tell me about his affair. ‘Whenever,’ I said hastily and hung up.
When I came downstairs after an awesome bath – with bubbles and oils and loofahs and a tray holding everything I needed for a self-inflicted mani-pedi, Mom was in her bathroom putting on make-up.
‘Where you going?’ I asked, sitting cross-legged on the commode.
‘Nowhere,’ she said while applying mascara.
‘You never put on make-up unless you’re going out,’ I reasoned.
She put the mascara back with only one eye done. ‘You’re right. When you’re right, you’re right.’ And then she grabbed her jar of cold cream and started removing the make-up. Sometimes I think I come from dangerously deranged stock.
‘Mom, what are you doing now?’
‘Removing the make-up,’ she said in what sounded like a reasonable tone of voice.
‘What’s going—’ I was stopped from giving her the talking to she so richly deserved by the doorbell chimes. ‘I’ll get it,’ I said and headed in that direction.
I opened the door to see my father standing there. ‘Daddy!’ I said, jumping on to him. He held me and swung me around like he used to when I was a kid. I threw my head back and said, ‘Wee,’ all the way home.
And then it struck me: this was why Mom was putting make-up on. I felt bad for her, but what’s a woman to do? I was sort of glad my mom still loved my dad, and sort of glad my dad still loved my mom. He was wearing an obnoxious cologne that I’d never smelled before, B.O. with a hint of tuna fish. I think that was some sort of pheromone for the older set, which made it obvious that, as my Grandma Pugh would say, ‘he’d come acourtin’.’ Sweet, sort of.
I decided to make myself scarce. There was a chance they might end up doing it, and God knew I didn’t want to be around again when that happened!
So I told my dad, ‘I’m off. Tell Mom!’ and was out the door like a shot. I’m versatile that way.
I heard Megan yelling ‘Daddy’ at the front door, so assumed Willis had somehow found his way home, however temporarily. What with his lady love living right across the street, it wasn’t surprising he remembered where he used to live.
I wandered aimlessly into the living room. ‘Oh, hi,’ I said casually when I saw him standing in the open doorway. ‘Either in or out,’ I said, like I would to one of the kids. ‘We’re in the middle of a drought here.’
He closed the door behind him. ‘How’re the perennials in the backyard?’ he asked.
‘Have you been sneaking over here to water them?’ I asked, heading into the kitchen.
‘No,’ he said, following me.
‘Then they’re dead, I guess,’ I said. ‘They’re not on my agenda.’
‘Excuse me,’ he said, and headed out the back door. I heard the water faucet turn on and, glancing out the window, saw him watering his precious plants. Maybe he could transplant them across the street, I thought, if Trisha got her house in the divorce. Then I thought, oh, how great it would be to have the two of them living across the street! What if she got pregnant? I sank down on a kitchen chair. I’d kill him. Then I’d kill her. Then I’d kill Tom for being such an ineffectual husband as to let her slip off with a neighbor!
Oh, yeah, I thought, everybody’s to blame except you. Ha! I’d been with Willis most of my life. I’d only had sex with that other one guy in high school, and I’m not even sure that counted. How was I supposed to go on? Would I start dating? I see all these ads on TV for dating services, where they do complete checks for compatibility and so forth. I had this sinking feeling they wouldn’t be able to find anyone compatible with me. ‘Large woman with three live-at-home children, who writes lurid romance novels and likes to catch killers on the weekends.’ No, I couldn’t see that working for me.
Willis came back in the house. ‘They’re OK,’ he said, presumably speaking of the perennials. Like I cared.
I sighed. ‘You said you wanted to talk. So sit down,’ I said, indicating the kitchen table where I was already sitting. ‘Did Megan leave?’
‘Oh, sorry, yes. She told me to tell you she was taking off.’
‘Did she say where she was going?’ I asked.
Willis shook his head. I let it slide. We sat there, each looking off into space, hands on the table top, not saying anything. Finally, Willis spoke. ‘I heard they arrested Berta Harris again.’
‘Yes. For killing her mother when she was a teenager.’
‘Did she do it?’ he asked.
I shrugged. ‘I have no idea,’ I said.
‘Are you going to find out?’ he asked.
Ah ha! I thought. Here it is! Trying to find out if I’m still on the case. Looking for ammunition to use against me in court!
‘Tom is looking into things. Ken and I intend to help him if he needs it.’
He nodded. After a moment he said, ‘I worry about you.’
‘Yes, that’s the impression you left me with, when you, how should I say it? Left me. I guess it’s easier to worry about me from a longer distance.’
‘I didn’t leave you. You threw me out.’
I took a deep breath. ‘I’ll admit I didn’t discuss taking Alicia in with you before I did it. That was wrong. But Bess was different – we had no other choice. And as for Alicia now, well it’s too late—’
I totally missed his signals until it was too late. I turned around to find Bess and Alicia standing at the opened back door.
I was right behind Bess and Alicia and heard what Mom said. I could have died of embarrassment. Alicia had lived with us for a year, and now Mom confesses she didn’t really want her? What a way for Alicia to find out! I was devastated for her. And what was that about Bess? No other choice? I thought maybe it was time to rethink my entire life.
Both my parents stood up as Alicia rushed pass them, Bess hard on her heels. I stayed back long enough to say, ‘You’re a real role model, Mom. So cool.’ I said it in my most sarcastic voice so I’m pretty sure she got the drift.
Then I slowly followed the invisible trail left by my sisters’ tears. Once upstairs, I went into Alicia’s room. She had her ugly gray duffel bag open on her bed, and was shoving her clothing into it.
‘Where you gonna go?’ I asked as I walked in.
‘I’ll be sixteen in a couple of months,’ she said, ‘and I’ll apply for emancipation.’
I was confused. ‘But you’re not black,’ I said.
Alicia actually rolled her eyes at me and I began to wonder how much of the real Alicia I’d been seeing for the past year. ‘An emancipated minor, for God’s sake! That means I can live on my own.’ She stopped for a minute and turned to face me. ‘I’m sorry, Megan. I looked it up last year when I was living with Mrs Butler. I didn’t mean to snap at you.’
‘It’s OK,’ I said graciously.
‘Anyway, I think there are rules that you have to check in with some adult, but mostly it means I can get a job, go to school, and have an apartment.’
‘Great,’ I said. ‘Bess and I will come with you.’
‘I’m not going anywhere and neither should Alicia,’ Bess said. ‘We need to let Mom explain herself. I know she loves me, and I’d bet my allowance she loves you too, Alicia!’
‘What about me?’ I said indignantly.
Bess snorted. ‘She has to love you – you’re her biological child.’
‘Well, she sure doesn’t show it!’ I muttered.
I looked at Willis as Megan stormed out of the room. ‘Don’t even think about leaving,’ I said. ‘You started this – you’re gonna help end it!’
Willis’s head was in his hands. ‘I know, I know,’ he said, his voice half hidden by his posture. Finally he looked up at me. ‘How do I fix it?’
I shook my head. I had no idea. How do you un-ring a bell? How do you make night day? How do you turn a frown into a smile? My only answer, clichéd as it was, was love. Lots of it, applied unsparingly.
We both went upstairs and decided the girls were all in Alicia’s room, as that was the only door closed. I knocked on it. There had been a lively conversation going on inside the room before the knock; after the knock, there was total silence.
‘Alicia?’ I called out. ‘Honey, open the door.’
No answer.
I nodded at Willis, who called out, ‘Bess, are you in there? We need to talk.’
Finally the door opened and Megan stuck her head out. ‘No one wants to speak to y’all,’ she said and slammed the door.
I knocked on it again. ‘Alicia, please open the door,’ I said. Then added, ‘Now, young lady!’
Strangely enough, that worked. Alicia was used to following orders, poor darlin’.
Alicia herself opened the door to her room. It was a small room, the smallest upstairs – my former office. Being on the north-east side of the house, it had two windows on two walls, one of which had a window seat. With the girls’ help, I’d bought material and borrowed my mother-in-law’s sewing machine to make curtains and a matching cushion cover for the window seat. We’d painted the room a dark plum, and the material was white with plum-colored flowers on it. Very pretty and muted. We bought a white comforter and plum and white throw pillows, and made some covers for pillows out of the curtain material. The room held her twin-sized bed, an old dresser we’d antiqued white, a small desk and chair, and a purplish (as close to plum as we could find) beanbag chair.
At the moment, Bess was sitting in the chair by the desk, Megan slouched in the beanbag chair, and Alicia was standing at the bed, folding clothes into her duffel bag.
I picked up the shirt she’d just put in the bag and hung it in the closet. ‘You’re not going anywhere,’ I told her.
‘I can stay at a halfway house until my sixteenth birthday,’ she said, ‘then I’ll get emancipated.’
‘That means—’ Megan started but her dad interrupted.
‘We know what it means.’ He looked at me and I sat down on the twin bed, moving the duffel bag to the floor. Willis sat on one side, and I pulled Alicia down to the other side.
‘We all need to talk,’ I said. All I got for this were two hard stares from Megan and Bess, and the back of Alicia’s head. I pulled in a large breath. This was going to take some finesse. ‘OK, look. Ten years ago we all know what happened. Bess’s birth family was killed next door. They were our best friends and we were made executors of their will, and also guardians of Bess. There was no family to take Bess, only us.’ I touched Alicia on the shoulder. ‘And there were killers after her. We did what we could to help, and eventually ended up adopting her.’ Turning Alicia around to face me, I said, ‘But you were a whole ’nother kettle of fish. I thought what was one more fourteen-year-old girl, when we already had two of ’em? I didn’t even bother to discuss it with Daddy. I just did it. And your dad comes home to another new child. I should have discussed it with him. Whether he knows it or not, I’m positive he would have said yes, but I didn’t give him that chance, Alicia. I just took it upon myself to make that decision for the entire family.’
Alicia pulled away from me and stood up. ‘An excellent reason for me to leave,’ she said.
At that moment I heard the front door open and Graham shout, ‘Hey, where is everybody?’ Also at that very moment, Alicia burst into tears and ran out of the room, with both the other girls following her.
Willis looked at me and said, ‘Well, I thought you did a good job. Although you did put it all on me.’
‘I did not! I took the entire blame!’
‘Let’s see,’ he said. ‘You’re the big-hearted mom taking in every stray around, while I’m the big fat ogre saying “no no no”! That about right?’
‘That’s not what I said!’
He stood up. ‘Oh, yeah, E.J. That’s what you said.’
He left the room and I heard as he passed Graham on the stairs.
‘Hey, Dad—’
‘Bye, son.’
‘Where are you—’
And the front door slammed behind him.
A few minutes later, Graham wandered into Alicia’s room. ‘What’s with Dad? You two at it again?’
I stood up. ‘You could say that,’ I said, heading out of the room and down the stairs.
Behind me, Graham said, ‘Is it me? Do I smell bad?’
I’m not a consoling type, sorry to say. But thank God Bess is. We were all crammed in the hall bath, the smallest bathroom in the house, thank you very much, with Alicia crying her eyes out. I’m not sure what Mom said deserved this much crying – I mean, it all seemed fairly reasonable to me, although, of course, I would never tell my mom that.
Finally, after a good five minutes of this drivel, I said, ‘Oh, for God’s sake, stop! You too, Bess! Listen, Alicia, you know I’m not one to take Mom’s side on a whim, but just listen a minute. What she said is something that should have been said the day they decided to be your foster parents. If my parents had any form of decent communication, it would have been said then! Think about it. A year ago, if Mom said that she was all gung-ho for it, but Dad had reservations but he got over them, you’d have been all, “I understand, Mr Pugh. And I’ll try to live up to your trust,” or some snarky crap like that. Isn’t that the truth? Don’t even consider this past year of being a family. Just think about what it was like that day.’
Alicia and Bess had both actually been listening to me. Finally, Alicia sighed real big, grabbed some toilet paper off the role, and cleaned up her face. Then she said, ‘You’re right. It’s just hearing them say that now – after a year of calling them mom and dad.’
I shrugged. ‘Maybe six months,’ I said.
Bess slugged me in the arm. ‘That’s not the point!’ she said.
Looking at Bess, Alicia asked, ‘Do you ever feel like you’re not part of the family?’
‘I used to. But only occasionally. Like when I stopped growing at five foot two and everybody else in the house towered over me. I thought, like on those kids’ shows we used to watch, which of these things does not belong?’
Alicia laughed a little. ‘Yeah. I feel that way. But it’s usually when y’all start fooling around and laughing I’ve got to admit, I don’t get your humor.’
‘Practically no one does,’ I assured her.
‘I only get it because I’ve been in this house for ten years,’ Bess said. ‘After you’ve been with us that long, you’ll get it too.’
I smiled. ‘For sure,’ I said.
The smile was gone from Alicia’s face. ‘I don’t know if I can hold out for another nine years.’
‘Just consider several of those years you’ll be off to college and then of course you’ll be a grown up and only get stuck here on holidays—’ Bess started, then she began to cry, Alicia followed, and they fell into each other’s arms, wailing away. I felt it an opportune time to leave. And I never did get a chance to discuss Mrs Mc’s affair with Bess! It didn’t seem to fit into the present situation.