YESTERDAY WAS OUR first rehearsal of Grease. It went smoothly because the music teacher is working with the cast right now, and not Madame T. (who really takes the fun out of dys fun ctional).
Since I’ve been going out with Roger, I’m getting all of this attention. It’s like, for the first time in my life, I’m part of things, rather than this poor kid with her face pressed to the window, watching. Like at lunch, Audrey Stewart and Jenna Li (head cheerleader!) invited me to sit with them. I was two seats away from Mona.
I felt mean not sitting with Vern, but Roger hates it when I’m with Vern. He says it looks like I’m cheating on him.
Anyway, tonight is my fifth date with Roger! I have a boyfriend! I’m practically dancing home. I walk in my front door and the house is warm once again. There’s the smell of food cooking.
Selfish is asleep in the kitchen sink. I pick him up, then lift the lid off the pot on the stove. There’s brisket, potatoes, and gravy. Now she’s even imitating Mrs. G.’s cooking.
“Oh, Mrs. G.! It really is you.”
“Hmm?”
“I thought you were Mom. Where is she?”
“She’s... uh, out. That is, I took her to the doctor this afternoon and they decided to keep her.”
“Keep her?”
“In the hospital.”
“Is she sick?”
“No, don’t worry. It’s a mental hospital.”
“A mental hospital? What did she do now?”
“Nothing. I just talked to her and we decided to go to the doctor. Peter went too. That was the only way she’d go, if he went. We both took off work....”
“Oh.” As much as I love Mrs. G., it feels intrusive that she’s done this without talking to me.
“I—we—just decided to check in with her today and she, well, she wasn’t doing very well.”
“But she’s never doing well. There’s nothing unusual about that.”
“She gave me permission to call her social worker—nice lady—who hooked us up with a doctor.”
“What hospital is she in?”
“It’s the state hospital, Sage. In Providence.”
“What’s it like? People strapped to their beds, ranting and raving?”
“It’s not like that. We were there for almost three hours... going over everything with the doctor: her behaviors, the way she feels. Your mom was very cooperative, and relieved. We have a diagnosis, Sage.” She says it like she’s giving me a gift.
“A diagnosis?”
“The doctor was absolutely certain, given her history. And with a diagnosis, there’s treatment.”
“What is the diagnosis?”
“Bipolar disorder. Sometimes it’s called manic depression.”
Hearing those words, something clicks in my brain, like a puzzle piece snapping into place. Manic depression. The extreme swings in her mood from crazed excitement to flattened misery.
“It’s all in the brain chemistry. It’s not her fault any more than if she had asthma or diabetes or allergies.” She sneezes. “The cat... speaking of allergies.”
“How do people get this?”
“It’s just there, you know. In the brain... sort of waiting to come forth at some age and time. There is... a hereditary element.”
“Great.”
“That doesn’t mean you’ll have it. You might just want to be aware, that’s all, when you get older. And it’s completely treatable with medication. She’ll be able to live normally.”
“Normally?” That doesn’t seem possible. Mrs. G. sneezes again. I pick up Selfish.
“It’s covered by Medicaid. Everything. Thank God she’d gone to Social Services.”
“How long will she be there?”
“Just until the medications are balanced and her mood stabilized.”
“Can she get out? I mean, if she wants to.”
“She committed herself. No one forced her.”
“But she can’t get out until the doctor lets her.”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t think she should be locked up.” My voice comes out angry.
“Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Can I go see her?”
“There are visiting hours, but the doctor says it’s best to let patients adjust to being there before you visit. It can be upsetting and make them want to leave. You can call her any time. And the social worker. Her name is Mrs. Grove. She’s going to come and see you. She wanted you to be placed in foster care....”
“What?” I freak out. “I’m going to be eighteen next month!”
She waves me off. “I told her you could stay with us.”
I look at the clock. Roger will be here in an hour. My whole life, I’ve wanted nothing more than to live with the Goldburgs. But if I was staying there, Roger would go nuts. He’d think I was with Vernon, for real.
“Thanks, Mrs. G., but I’d better stay here so I can take care of Selfish. You’re allergic to him.”
“You can just come over and take care of him.”
“I mean, he sleeps in my bed and everything.”
“I’d feel better if you stayed with us.”
“I’ll be fine. You’re right there if I need you.”
“True.” Mrs. G. looks at her watch. She has a life, places to be. Will Mom now be able to have a life? “I have a meeting. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Sage.”
“Yeah?”
“Is everything okay between you and Vern?”
“Sure. Vern’s my best friend. I’m just in rehearsals and stuff. Really busy.”
“Dinner’s there, if you’re hungry.”
“Thanks, Mrs. G. You’re the best.”
“I’m glad you still think so.” She’s out the door like I’ve insulted her.
I don’t tell Roger about Mom being “away.” When he talks about his family, they sound so normal. His mom does needlework. His dad is a colonel in the navy. They’re Republicans, which is creepy, but I can deal with that. I mean, Mom hasn’t voted in years, so who’s to talk.
Besides, he might want to come in. The house is so embarrassing: the couch with the spring sticking out, the filthy carpet, Mom’s piles of junk. Also, he wants to do more than just kiss. It’s becoming a major pressure.
Just when he pulls up, the phone rings. I almost don’t answer it, but what if it’s Mom or the social worker?
“Sage Priestly?” Like I’m either in trouble or have won a prize.
“Yes?”
It’s the drugstore inviting me for a job interview on Saturday. Roger’s honking the horn; it sounds like he’s right in my living room. I wave at him that I’ll be right there, but he keeps honking. I tell the woman I’ll be there and hang up.
I run out and climb in. “Sorry.”
“I almost drove off.”
“Didn’t you see me wave? I got a call for a job interview at CVS. The lady said, ‘Oh, Miss Priestly, I knew your mom back in high school when we were just girls. She was so popular and vivacious.’ Isn’t that funny? I never think about my mom as being the popular type.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“What do you mean?” My voice comes out scared.
He pats my leg. “I didn’t know your mom grew up here.”
“Yeah. Her whole life.”
“So when’s this job interview?”
“Saturday, at two.”
“But we’re going to the baseball game Saturday. It’s the first day of the season.”
“We are?”
“I told you last night on the phone. The game starts at one-thirty.”
“I don’t remember you asking me to a baseball game.” I would definitely remember that.
“It’s Al’s league.”
“Why don’t I meet you after? I’ve applied to a million places and this is the first interview I’ve gotten.”
“Why would you want to work at CVS? Andrew Weller and Carl Crowl work there. All the dweebs. You know they’ll try to pick up on you.”
I’m about to correct him. Like, I’m not the type who gets picked up on. But then I realize that it’s kind of flattering that he worries about it. “It’ll be okay.”
“Don’t come if you’re going to miss the beginning of the game. You know how baseball is. If you miss part of the first inning, you’re lost.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Plus, I already told my buddies you were coming, so I’m going to look like a moron.”
He has never brought me anywhere with his buddies. Even at lunch, he sits with the guys and I sit with the girls. “I’ll try to reschedule the interview. It just doesn’t seem like a great way to impress a future employer.”
“That’s my girl.” My girl. I feel like pinching myself, that the best-looking and most popular boy in school likes me.
“I can’t wait to kiss you.” He pulls into the park and shuts off the engine. Immediately, he’s all over me, an octopus on caffeine.
I should be enjoying myself, but I’m not. I’m thinking about Mom and wondering if she’s scared, and I’m realizing I didn’t talk to Roger yesterday. I didn’t see him at school and he didn’t call. So when did he invite me to the game?