Dear Diary:
I'm beginning to think that the only person who cares about my thoughts is you, Ms. Littleton. Mom certainly doesn't and Lacy isn't speaking to me. Moby, er, Mason has obviously written me off. I'm not usually someone who feels sorry for myself, which might be because my life is usually pretty great, but I screwed things up big this time, and I don't even know what to do about it. I even managed to piss Dave off, sweet old dopey Dave.
I think last time I wrote in here, I was saying that Mason left to chase after Lacy. In case you're not very savvy with relationships, when you kiss a guy, it's a very bad sign if he goes running off after someone else.
A few minutes later Moby came back, but without Lacy. We were all loading up on the bus to head back home when I saw him.
"Hey Coach," he said, not even looking at me, "is it okay if I go home with my mom?"
"Sure," Coach Collins said.
"I thought you might want to talk about the plan of attack for our next meet," I said. "We have a few swimmers who are only a few points shy of qualifying for state."
Mason shrugged. "We can talk about that Monday. Or you can talk to Coach and fill me in. I heard Dave may be coming back. If he is, I’m fine for him to take over, too. Either way."
Just like that, without saying anything else to me, he left. I was furious, but also kind of embarrassed. I’m not used to feeling foolish about boys.
The bus took forever to get back to B-port, and I was sick of the day by the time I reached my car. Dave texted while I was headed home. I SAW YOU. CONGRATULATIONS.
I pulled over on the side of the road. That was too cryptic to ignore. YOU SAW ME WHERE?
He texted back. AT THE MEET.
My stomach dropped. I’ve been telling Dave we aren’t back together and I meant it, but if he was there, he saw the stupid kiss. Could anyone else in the world have possibly been there to make it more of a mess? I didn’t know what to say. I knew he had to be mad.
WE AREN’T TOGETHER, I texted him.
I didn’t know if I was talking about me and Dave, or me and Moby. Both were true.
When I got home, I saw a car parked in front of my house. Mason’s car. I pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. I noticed another car behind me. It was Dave’s. I panicked, but he idled in front of my house for a moment before speeding off.
Once my heartbeat slowed down, I got out of my car and stood up, finally as prepared as I could be to see Mason and Lacy together. Why else would he be here? When he couldn’t catch her at the meet, he left with his mom and beat me here.
When I reached the porch, I heard some voices and stopped. It had been a warm day, pretty common on the coast in Texas, even in January. The window was open. I could hear snatches of conversation. I crept closer, my ear turned toward the window.
"The thing is," my mom said, "you have to choose, Mason. I want to like you, and I know you don’t know them very well yet, but you’ve got to pick one or the other soon. Or neither would be fine, too." She paused. "I can’t take the back and forth, and neither can my girls. You understand, I'm sure."
With a deep voice I loved to listen to, Mason said, "If they weren’t sisters, I could just date both of them. Take Hope out a few times and Lacy too, but I feel awful knowing they aren’t getting along.”
“You have to pick one.”
“It's hard to choose between them. You're their mother. Surely you can see why."
"I know that. It's difficult when you're young. So many decisions are thrown at you and the world wants you to choose, and you do, but you have so little knowledge of what your choices will lead you toward, or how that will alter who you become."
"Yeah, I guess."
Mom laughed. "I'm waxing nostalgic, but Mason, even if you don't know them well, if I told you both of them were drowning, you'd save one of them first."
"Lacy," he said immediately, "because there's no way Hope would ever drown."
Mom laughed again. "I see why they like you. Bad analogy, I guess, but if you had to choose one of them right now, who would it be?"
Mason sighed. "Lacy, probably. She's so smart, and I could talk to her forever. When we were debating, I felt like I was growing, becoming better than I am now. She challenges me, but Hope is so much easier to be around. She's funny and kind, she laughs at all my jokes and she’s always happy to see me. She's less complicated. And if I’m being honest, she’s less angry."
If he had any idea how angry I was right now, he might take that back. I was simple? I'd show him simple.
My mom clucked. "My two girls are very different, and Mason, you're a good guy, I think. You could probably make either one of them happy. I'm not saying this because I favor one girl over the other. I adore both my girls. Hope is so much like her father. She's so free and delightful. She's always been the center of attention, and she demands a lot of time and effort in her own way, but it's part of her charm. She is simpler to understand than Lacy."
"You get it, then."
"I do, maybe more than you know. Did either girl tell you about their father?"
Mason didn't speak, but I was assuming he shook his head. I knew I hadn't spoken a word about Dad.
"In case you don’t know this, we aren’t divorced. He’s dead. We got together when we were both quite young, and Harry was quite the womanizer. He had dozens of girlfriends, and they all knew he liked loads of women. He was totally honest, but the world's best flirt."
"I could see that," Mason said.
"I liked him, but I wasn't going to put up with any of that nonsense, and when I told him, he dropped them all, just like that. I was worried when we met that he might cheat on me one day. If that was our worst problem, I think he'd still be here."
I couldn't breathe. Mom had never said a word about any of this to me.
"But he got into drugs, Mason. First pot, then cocaine. Ironically, we did better when he was on cocaine than when he was using pot. He got a lot more done.” She laughed but it sounded pained. “I found out after we were already engaged. I would’ve broken things off, maybe, but I was already pregnant with Angelica, and I knew I couldn't do it alone. After Angelica was born, named because she was an angel for him, he tried to turn it all around. He swore he’d do it for her. He did too, for a few months, but he relapsed. It was just after his relapse I found out I was pregnant with Hope. By the time she was born, he had things back under control. We named her Hope, because she was literally a new Hope for our family. She looked so much like him."
It was quiet, and I realized my mom was crying. She was telling Mason about this, stuff she'd never even told her daughters. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I opened the front door.
“Seriously, Mom? You didn’t think I might need to know any of this?”
She jumped off the kitchen chair she’d been sitting in. “Hope.”
Mason’s eyes flew wide. “Hope, we didn’t know you were here.”
“You don’t say.”
“What have you heard?” my mom asked.
“Oh, I’ve heard enough to ask why you lied about Dad for so long.”
"I was waiting until you were old enough to understand. I wanted you girls to love your Dad, and think good things about him. If you knew, you might think you were doomed. And I didn’t want you to think of him as a druggie.”
I sunk down on the sofa, and she came to sit next to me. “After you were born, I lost my job and your dad couldn't get a decent one, not with his recent history, so I went to apply for government assistance. It was too much for him. He relapsed, but this time, he graduated they called it. To heroin. He took too much. We still don’t know whether that was on purpose. When I realized it I called 911, but it was too late."
"Oh man," Mason said.
I had almost forgotten he was there and I jumped.
"I'm so sorry about that."
My mom took my hand. "We’re okay now. This happened a long time ago, but that's why we don't take anything at our house. When I get a migraine, I sometimes take a Tylenol or two Ibuprofen, or sometimes I don’t, but then I go to my room and ride it out. We don't take anything stronger than that, not ever. It's just better that way. We’d all be better off if most of the drugs we rely on had never been created."
“Maybe not insulin,” Mason said.
Mom glared at him.
"Wow,” I said. “You think just teaching us not to take anything stronger than a Tylenol was the way to go?”
My mom’s face crumpled. “I didn’t get a handbook, you know. I’ve always just done the best I could.”
She looked so broken, that I felt bad about questioning her.
Mason stood up. “Maybe I should go.”
I glanced back at him. “Yeah, maybe you should.” When he stood up, so did I. “But maybe I can help with your ‘difficult decision-making.’ I’m no longer interested.” My heart kind of cried when I said it, but I was so sick of the drama. They could say I was simple, or easy, or an idiot, but I had a happy life before, and now I hated it. I was done with all of the back and forth, the not knowing, and most of all, I was done being mad at Lacy.
"Thanks for coming by Mason, and telling me about what happened at the meet. I’ll call Lacy, and I won’t go to bed until she comes home."
My mom sounded better. When she stood up to show Mason to the door, I walked over with her. Before Mason walked down the porch steps, she said, "Even with everything that happened, I wouldn't change a single thing about my life. I loved Harry and I love my girls. Nothing of worth is ever easy, but that's why it's valuable. That's why you fight for it."
I felt betrayed. My mom basically just told Mason all our family baggage, stuff she’d never told me, and then she told him anything good is hard. And we all know that compared to me, Lacy is complicated. I felt a tear roll down my cheek and ran to my room before anyone else saw it.
It wasn’t until I reached my own bed that I realized something. My dad’s a druggie who either overdosed, or committed suicide, and I’ve been told my whole life I’m just like him.
My phone buzzed and it was a text message.
From Dave. I FORGIVE YOU.
He forgave me? I wanted to say I didn’t do anything wrong, but maybe I did. Maybe I shouldn’t have made out with him last night if I liked Moby. Maybe I should have backed off of Moby when my sister who never ever wants anything expressed an interest. I definitely should have when I learned it was reciprocated.
I thought about how good it felt to make out with Dave last night. Yes. I need something easy, I thought. Instead of replying to his text, I snuck out and jogged the mile down to Dave's house. He was just as happy to see me as I knew he would be. When I woke up with a start, I was on the couch in Dave's movie room. I snuck, or is it sneaked? I can't ever remember. Anyhow, my movement woke Dave up, and he insisted on driving me back home.
Imagine my surprise when I saw my sister pull up in my mom's car while I was in the process of sneaking back in myself! My genius sister, the complicated one, the one who I just realized was stunningly beautiful. The one Mason probably found after his conversation with Mom and took back home to his place. I had made all these promises to myself, to let go, to give her my blessing, but seeing her looking so perfect, sneaking home just like me, I hated her in that moment, more than I had ever hated anyone.
I couldn't handle her, not then. Not sneaking home like this, with my hair in a messy snarl, my swimming bag slung over my shoulder, my parka pulled around me. It didn't help that she looked amazing. She still wore her pencil skirt and ivory blouse. It wasn't even rumpled. Her hair was still twisted up, almost like she hadn't slept on it at all. Her makeup looked flawless, and her eyes seemed completely awake.
I got inside before her and locked the door behind me, but apparently she was fast too. I hadn't even set my bag in the laundry room before she had unlocked it and was inside the door.
"Shh," I whispered when she shut the door and flipped the lock. "Don't wake up Mom."
"Duh," she whispered back. "I know."
"Where were you?" I needed to know if she came home, got a text from Mason or something, and went over to his place. I knew I was scowling, but I couldn't help it.
"I could ask you the same thing, but I don't want to know the answer," she said.
Since she didn't want to know, she wasn't at Mason's. Good. Probably just did a sleepover with Drew. Boring. And typical.
"Look," she said. "I've been thinking and I'm sorry. I've really screwed this all up, and I should've been a better sister. We shouldn't have let a guy get between us."
She was trying to fix things. Of course she was, because Lacy was always right. I wanted to, I really did, but I was too angry, my mom's words still ringing in my ears, and I was so tired.
I hated that she apologized first. It might sound crazy, but it just pissed me off more. I could hear the tally in my head. She was smarter, she was harder working, she was complicated, and interesting, and worth it. Oh yeah, and she forgave faster, too. Instead of breaking down, and crying like half of me wanted to, I just said, "Whatever."
"Don't be like that." When she frowned at me, she'd never looked more like Mom. The parent who wasn’t an addict. The one who was always there for us, the one everyone on earth would pick as the best parent, and the one who told Mason that Lacy was his best option.
"Like what?"
She just looked at me expectantly, so I turned to head for my room. She grabbed my shoulder and tried to turn me back to talk to her. I was too tired, and sick of hearing how great she was. I certainly didn't want to deal with her showing me how amazing she was by being fake humble.
"Let go of me. You’re always telling me what to do and acting all superior." I pulled away and shoved her back into the entryway. Unfortunately she dropped her bag and her laptop fell out, clattering on the floor loudly. We both froze, expecting our mom to come down the hall any second. When she didn't, we both breathed a big sigh of relief. Lacy leaned over and picked up her laptop, and then she set it on the table. When she opened it and the screen lit up, I breathed a sigh of relief. We could not afford a new laptop.
She grabbed the strap on her bag without looking and pulled it up, but it was twisted, and the contents of the bag spilled all over the floor, spinning out in every direction. Lacy's eyes followed a weird little brown bottle with a white lid as it rolled across the floor of the family room and came to a stop in front of the sofa.
A pale white hand shot out from the sofa and grabbed it.
Mom’s hand.
This wasn't good.
"Lacy," my mom said in a deceptively calm voice. "What is this?"
"It's nothing." She sprinted across the room and tried to take the bottle from our mom. Mom yanked her hand back and squinted to read the words on the bottle in the low light.
"This is a prescription for Dr. Priscilla Dunmore. Why do you have it?"
"She gave it to me." Lacy grabbed for the bottle, but Mom sat up and pulled it out of her reach.
"Do you know what Desoxyn is, or what it’s used for?"
Lacy didn't say a word.
"Judging from your face, that's a yes. I'm going to call Dr. Dunmore now, at 5:15 a.m., and explain that somehow a bottle of her prescription medication ended up in your things and we are so very sorry for the mix-up."
Lacy groaned then. "No, Mom, you can’t tell her that. Look I need that, okay."
My mom stood up then, and I'd never seen her look so fierce. "You do not need this young woman. If I ever hear of you taking something like this, much less stealing it, you will not survive the fury that will rain down on you. Do you understand me?"
Lacy nodded.
"Now go to your room, right now."
Lacy grabbed her laptop and began walking.
Mom whirled around. "Wait. Give me your cell phone." She held her hand out.
Lacy opened her mouth to say something and then stopped. She pulled her phone from her bag and handed it over.
Mom still wasn't done. "You won't come out of that room, except for meals and school. No ice cream. No boys. No parties, and no best friends. You will not do anything but eat, sleep, and go to school. Are we clear?"
Lacy didn't bother asking how long her punishment would last, but she couldn't quite help herself from clarifying one thing. "But this weekend? I can still go to Alief Kerr, right?"
My sister is such a nerd.
My mom looked confused. "I thought it was Lamar?" She shook her head. "You know what? I don't care. I’ll let you go if you give me a solemn promise." She leaned down and put one hand under Lacy's chin. "A vow."
"Anything," Lacy said.
"You vow to me you will never again take any kind of drugs. Prescription or not. Lacy, never again."
“Prescription drugs? I can’t take something a doctor tells me to take? So what, are we Amish? Seventh Day Adventists?”
“I mean it,” Mom said. “Unless I direct you to take something, you don’t take it.”
Lacy rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "I promise."
"Fine. We'll talk about the details tomorrow, but the debate tournament is still fine."
Lacy opened her mouth, thought better of it, and shut it with a click. Then she went to her room. I walked to my room too, and I felt a little better. Sure, maybe Mom thought Lacy was more "complicated" than me, but after tonight, I had the feeling Mom might appreciate simplicity.