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Two days before the party we start cleaning and cooking. My gramma, my mom’s mom, comes to help with food. She’s the one I’m named after—Joan.
We’ll have beans and tamales, traditional Mexican stuff, and also ham and potato salad. My dad’s really into it. It must get boring in Germany without us. He eats in the officers’ dining room all the time, I guess, so when he gets home he wants to pig out on all his favorite foods.
I’d rather work outside with Dad and Kitty, than in the kitchen, so I start cultivating the flower beds. Dad’s all frustrated though, because the lawnmower stopped working when he was only halfway finished in the front yard.
Gramma comes out onto the porch. She’s wearing an apron that comes down past her knees, and her coarse gray hair is pulled back and held in check by a rubber band. She’s wearing my old slippers. My old slippers? I stand, stunned, knowing what was in the toes of those slippers.
“Check the gas,” she yells to my dad.
Dad gives her a look like, DUH!
“I did that,” he says. “Get back in the kitchen.”
They both laugh. She’s back out in an instant with a big spoonful of potato salad. “Taste this,” she says.
He puts it all in his mouth in one big bite. “Yum,” he says. “If I
wasn’t already married to your daughter, I’d ask you to marry me.” She smacks him on the shoulder, playfully, then goes back inside. I follow her, trying not to show I’m in a hurry, pretending I’m interested in what they’re doing in the kitchen.
Then I wander nonchalantly back to my bedroom, quietly closing the door behind me. I get down on my hands and knees to check for my slippers. Maybe Gramma has a pair just like mine. No. My slippers are gone. But there, on the floor where they used to be, are the two condoms I have left, and the can of foam. My heart beats fast and I feel all shaky.
Now what? I know for a fact my gramma thinks sex outside of marriage is a giant sin. My face is hot with embarrassment. Maybe I can spend the rest of my life hiding in my closet. But I guess not.
I take the condoms and foam, wrap them carefully in an old T-shirt, and stash the T-shirt in the bottom drawer of my chest, in the back, under a stack of other T-shirts. I’ve never seen my gramma wearing a T-shirt. It should be a safe hiding place.
I call Danny, dreading talking first to Mrs. Kendall, or Alex, or worst of all, Joey, but today Danny’s the one who answers.
“Danny?”
“What’s up. Pups?”
“Something terrible. My gramma’s walking around, wearing my
slippers.”
“So?”
“So. You know. My slippers! The ones I keep the condoms and foam hidden in. Lots of times when she’s here she borrows my shoes, but those were way in the back. What’ll I do?”
“Hey, don’t get all stressed out. She probably doesn’t even know what that stuff is,” Danny says. “Besides, shouldn’t she be glad you’re responsible?”
“But Danny! She’s super religious! I’m scared. What if she tells my parents?”
“Listen, why don’t you come over here for awhile. Relax.”
“I can’t. I’m supposed to be helping with the party. But maybe you could come over here? If you helped out you might get back on my mom’s good side.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Do they have a lawnmower over there we could borrow? Ours
quit working.”
“Yeah, maybe. Alex is having trouble with his car, though. Can you come get me?”
“Okay,” I say. “Check about the lawnmower, would you? I know Dad’ll let me use the car if it includes coming back with a lawnmower.”
I wait for awhile for Danny to check the garage. What is my gramma thinking about me right now? I’m so embarrassed!
“No power mower, but there’s an old push mower. Why don’t I bring it over? I’ll mow the lawn for your dad.”
Danny can be so sweet sometimes.
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I walk through the kitchen, afraid to look at my gramma, wondering if she is really watching me from the comer of her eye, or if I am imagining things. I go out the back door and walk around to where my dad is still fiddling with the lawnmower.
“Can I borrow the car and go get Danny? He’s got a push mower he can bring over.”
“Sure,” Dad says. “But I hate push mowers.”
“Danny says he’ll mow the lawn for you.”
Dad looks up, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He reaches for the keys and tosses them to me.
“C’mon, Kitty,” I say. “Let’s go get Danny.”
She does her usual fast wide circle, twice, and then, as soon as I open the door, she bounds into the back seat, smiling. I swear she’s smiling.
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Alex and his brother, Joey, and Danny are in the driveway, standing by Alex’s car, fiddling around with something under the hood. Kitty runs up to Danny, who reaches down to pet her. Joey backs away, a screwdriver poised in his hand.
“She won’t hurt you,” Alex says.
“Hi,” Joey says, glancing my way for just an instant, then looking back at Kitty. I’ve never seen anyone be afraid of Kitty before. Alex calls to her and scratches her behind her ears.
“Pet her, man. She’s cool,” Alex says, but Joey keeps his distance.
“Here, Kitty,” Danny calls, and she follows him down the driveway and into the garage.
“Gina broke up with me,” Alex says.
“Why?” I ask, unable to tell whether Alex even cares or not.
“Said I was acting like a loser,” Alex laughs. “I told her it wasn’t an act.”
“Girls are a pain in the ass, anyway,” Joey says, looking at me. “They get all lovey-dovey over you and then they think they own you.”
“We’d been together over a year,” Alex says, ignoring his brother’s remarks.
“Maybe she’ll change her mind,” I say.
Alex looks down and shakes his head. I see now that he does care.
“Forget the bitch,” Joey says.
I walk back toward the garage, sick of Joey’s remarks.
Danny comes out, pushing the lawnmower, with Kitty prancing behind him, carrying an old baseball like it’s a great treasure. She drops the ball at Joey’s feet, trying to make friends, I guess. Joey picks it up and throws it, hard.
“Kitty!” I scream, as she runs full speed down the driveway and into the street, into the path of an oncoming car. I stand frozen, as brakes screech and the car swerves. Then I see Kitty, the ball in her mouth, trot back across the street, wagging her tail. Danny, Alex and I all exhale as in one relieved breath.
Joey laughs. “Stupid dog,” he says.
“You’re the one who’s stupid,” I say, leading Kitty to the car and getting in.
Danny puts the lawnmower in the trunk and we leave.
“What a total butthole,” I say, feeling all shaky inside over what almost happened.
“He just doesn’t know anything about dogs,” Danny says.
“Any butthole in the world knows not to throw a ball out into the middle of a street for a dog to chase after it.”
Danny leans over and kisses my cheek and nuzzles my neck.
“What’d your gramma say? Anything?”
“No. I’ve sort of avoided her since I saw she was wearing my slippers.”
“She doesn’t even know about that stuff,” Danny says. “She’s old.”
“I don’t think she’s that old.”
“Well, even if she knows, I bet she’ll just keep it to herself.”
“I hope so, but I feel really funny about it.”
I park our car out front because I know Dad will want to hose down the driveway when we’re all finished working in the yard. He straightens up from where he’s been working in the front flower bed.
“Hey, Danny,” he says, wiping his hand on his jeans as he walks toward us.
“You look thinner than the last time I saw you,” Dad says, extending his hand. “Life treating you okay?”
“Fine,” Danny says with a smile, shaking Dad’s hand.
“How’s school coming?”
I hate when my dad does that stuff. He knows Danny’s not in school right now because he’s already asked me about it. Actually, he’s already lectured me about Danny not being in school. I hope he’s not going to start lecturing Danny.
“I’m sort of on a break from school right now,” Danny says. “I’ll start up again in September.”
“Don’t let it go,” Dad says.
“Erica, would you come in for a minute?” Gramma calls to me from the front window.
Suddenly my mouth is dry and my palms are all sweaty. I go inside, to the kitchen where she and Mom and Rocky are making enchiladas.
Gramma looks at me and I look away. She hands me a five dollar bill.
“I forgot cilantro and chipotle chiles. Will you go to that Mexican market over on Hill Street and pick some up? And get some fresh tortillas for our lunch, too.”
“Sure,” I say, meeting her eyes for a moment. I can’t tell what she’s thinking. I hope it’s all related to food.
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At lunchtime everybody takes a still-warm tortilla, or two or three, from the package sitting on the kitchen counter, and spoons beans, rice, salsa and cheese into them. Everybody but me helps themselves to the chorizo Gramma has just fried. I haven’t eaten any little piggies since I decided they had a right to live, too.
We take our food outside, on the patio.
“I can’t believe it’s almost December and we’re out here in our shirtsleeves,” Dad says.
“California has some definite advantages over Germany, doesn’t it?” Mom smiles at Dad.
“Definite,” he says, leaning over and kissing her.
Rocky scoots her chair between where Danny and I are sitting.
“Will you come to my Christmas concert?” she asks him, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I’m singing a solo.”
“Hey, Rocks, I know about your solo. Remember? You sang it for me.”
“But will you come to my concert?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. When?”
“The Sunday before Christmas.”
Danny reaches into his shirt pocket, pulls out an imaginary date book, and pretends to be flipping the pages.
“Yep, that date’s open. I’ll pencil you in,” he says, acting like he’s writing something.
We all laugh, especially Rocky and my gramma. But then, I think she ends up looking at Danny in a kind of funny way. This whole thing is making me paranoid.
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Late in the evening, after all of the work is done and things are cleaned up, we rent that movie, “Moonstruck.” My mom loves that movie, like Nicolas Cage is the man of her dreams or something. But it’s pretty funny. My mom and Danny laugh at all the same places, and I can tell she’s not mad at him anymore. And my dad has thanked Danny about a thousand times for bringing over the lawn mower and then mowing the lawn. I really like it when everyone I love gets along together.
After “Moonstruck” my dad puts a new CD on the stereo.
“I got this for you,” he says to Mom. He has this big grin on his face that makes him look about ten years younger.
“Do you remember, do you recall . . .” the strains of an old song
start. . . “I want to tell you . . .”
They both start singing when it gets to the part about the “sea of love.”
“Remember this?” Dad says, taking Mom by the hand and leading her to the middle of the floor.
They put their arms around each other and sort of dance/sway together.
“They don’t make music like this anymore,” Dad says to us, then turns back to Mom and kisses the top of her head.
“I wanna dance,” Rochelle says, pushing between them. They make room for her and dance as a threesome until the end of the song.
When we’ve heard enough of The Honey Drippers, I take Danny home, with a stop at our secret place first.
“You’ve got such a great family,” Danny says. “That’s how we’re going to be when we’re married and have kids.”
I never know what to say when Danny starts talking about getting married, it all seems so far away. I know I want to be with him my whole life, but I always think about marriage like something in the way distant future, after college and after I’m a vet, which is like about a million years away.
“Your dad was trying to talk me into joining the army,” Danny says.
“Really?”
“Yeah. He said if I got my G.E.D. and scored high on the Armed Services test I could probably get a good deal.”
“So?”
“Nah. I’m not ready for boot camp. Besides, things are going pretty good for me right now,” he says, kissing me.
I lean my head on his shoulder, remembering how close we came to breaking up just a few weeks ago, and thinking how good things have been between us since then.
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When I get back home, about one o’clock in the morning, my mom and dad are still up. The house is decorated for tomorrow’s party, but they don’t look happy. They’re in the family room, the place they watch TV, but the TV is not on.
“I’ve got to be at work at nine tomorrow morning,” I say. “’Night.”
“Sit down,” Dad says, in the voice I’ve heard him use with lower ranking army personnel who’ve not been doing their jobs right. I sit, my heart pounding.
“Why do you keep condoms and foam in your closet?” Dad asks.
“And worse!” Mom says. “What do you mean by letting Danny sneak into our house at night? And then acting like I’m crazy, hearing things in the dark?”
“I never said you were crazy,” I say.
“Well, you might as well have!”
“Well, I didn’t.”
“What you didn’t say is not the point,” Dad yells. “The point is, you’ve been very sneaky—basically dishonest—and it all has to do with Danny.”
I don’t know what to say. Apparently Gramma and Rocky found a lot to talk about while I was gone.
As if he’s just read my mind, Dad says, “Don’t go blaming your grandmother or your sister, either. You’re the one who’s been misbehaving.”
After a long silence Mom says, “We were talking after you left tonight, saying what a sweet boy Danny is, and maybe he’s past the hard part with his mom’s death and all, he seemed so comfortable here today, and we’re happy for you, that you have a nice boyfriend, and Rocky announces to us that he’s not just your boyfriend, he’s your husband. Well, you know, she always says that and we never pay any attention, but Gramma took it seriously, said how that explained the birth control things she found in your closet.”
Mom starts to cry, and Daddy puts his arm around her.
“Then Rocky says she knows you’re married because Danny sleeps in your bed,” Dad says. He looks at me like he doesn’t even know me, and suddenly I understand how Gregor Samsa must have felt when his family saw that he’d turned into a beetle.
“But, why are you so mad at me? You’ve always warned me not ever to have unprotected sex!”
“Oh, did I forget to say don’t be a sneak?” Mom says.
“I’m sure! Did you expect me to come running to you to tell you Danny and I were thinking about having sex? Should I have asked
you to sign a parent permission slip?”
“Don’t you get sarcastic with me, Erica! You know damned well what I’m talking about. When I was so worried about prowlers, did it ever occur to you to say that Danny’d been here?”
Dad draws a deep breath and says quietly, “Erica, look at me.” I raise my eyes and look at him. “We love you, Erica. We’re just trying to understand what’s going on here. We’ve always trusted you to be honest with us and . . .”
“I love Danny, okay? Is there anything wrong with that?”
“Oh, E.J.,” Dad sighs. “Of course there’s nothing wrong with loving someone, unless it’s turning you into someone you don’t want to be—someone who’s sneaky, or who gets in trouble with the police, or who no longer does well in school.”
I don’t know what else to say and I guess they don’t either. We just sit there. Finally Dad says, “Let’s call it a night.”
I walk through the kitchen, picking up the cordless phone on my way. Dad follows me and gently takes the phone from my hand and puts it back on the receiver.
“Think about this on your own tonight. Morning will be soon enough to call Danny, or April, or whoever it is you want to hash things over with.”
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I lie awake for a long time. It’s a strange feeling, knowing my parents are hurt and disappointed in me. They’ve been mad at me plenty of times before, like for not doing my chores, or for picking on Rocky, but this feels different, like there’s a wedge between us.
Kitty is stretched out, snoring, at the end of my bed. I give her a nudge with my foot to wake her, and she slowly inches her way up next to me. I pet her silky head, remembering the screech of brakes and the really close call she had earlier today.
“You’ve got to be careful,” I tell her. “You almost got yourself killed just by playing with that jerk, Joey. You can’t trust everyone, you know?”
Kitty sidles up closer to me and sighs a long sigh, as if to say I know what you mean. I think how awful it would have been if she’d been hit by that car.