thirty-two
When I came out, I told Haven and Allie I didn’t feel well and asked if someone could drive me home. Haven’s dad brought me back into town. It was late afternoon and I knew that the salon closed early on Sundays, and I needed to ask DiDi about 39 Red Cedar Road.
I needed her to explain the mistake.
I needed her to have an answer.
I needed her to tell me one of her long-winded yakkity stories, and this one time, I’d be glad to hear it and then annoyed that she was talking so much and then everything would be back to normal.
At the salon, I could see through the glass doors that Clarisse had gone home. DiDi usually stayed in the back, cleaning up and talking with the other stylists before leaving. As I walked in, I could hear soft voices.
“I know it’s hard, sweetheart, but being yourself—all it means is letting everyone out there see what’s true in here.”
I peeked around the corner and saw DiDi gently touching the top of Mace’s head. The floor creaked and DiDi saw me.
“Well, hey there, Double—I mean Leia. I didn’t expect you back yet from Haven’s house.”
I turned around and walked out.
I went straight up the stairs to our apartment. As I shoved the key into the lock, I could hear Kenneth’s door open. Without turning around, I slammed our door shut. Why was it my job to be nice to him? He was the one mooning after DiDi even though she didn’t give him a speck of time. How long would it take him to get it through his dumb old ponytailed head that DiDi didn’t care about him? At all.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth and put on an old prescription pain relief T-shirt that Lori had given me from when she was dating this pharmaceutical salesman. Boy, we thought she’d hit the jackpot then. She kept saying, “See you later, ladies. I’m probably off to Vegas for a bunch of fancy conventions and buffet dinners.”
But it didn’t work out. He left town just as quickly as he’d come, and whenever anyone asked about him, Lori would say, “Nothing but a pipe dream, girls. Some things are just too good to be true. You try to grab hold and they slip away.”
“GiGi! What happened? Mace and I were really worried about you.”
I’ll bet.
I climbed into bed. If she wanted to spend her time with Mace, let her.
“Isn’t it kind of early for bed? Did you even have dinner?”
I didn’t answer.
“Okay… Well, I have to drive Macy home. It’s been a little rough with her mom—”
I pulled the covers over my head.
“Anyway, I’ll be back later if you want to talk.”
Talk? When did we ever talk? When did we ever talk about anything except for how to turn the recipe of my life into a triple-layer Success Cake?
I heard her back out of the room. “So… just leave your light on if you want me to come in later. I’ll be back in—”
I jumped up and had the light off before she could finish her sentence.
They used to tell this story about Dead Drunk Donna. That when she was upset, she would leave the lights in her trailer on all night and howl at the moon. Singing and howling and clutching that shotgun full of golden bullets. With no one to listen to her except maybe that dead bear tied to a tree.
Monday morning in English class, I walked straight to Trip and said in a low voice, “Can you meet me in the library after my volunteer job?”
He looked at me, all serious. Studying me in that way he had. I guess something in my face let him know that this wasn’t going to be about homework.
“Are you—”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to say anything else. The idea of Mama and the lipstick and everything was tied up so tight in my brain, I was afraid that one pull would bring the whole thing down into a tangled mess, right in the middle of class.
“Okay,” he said.
I wanted to thank him, but I just nodded and took my seat.
Not only did Trip meet me at the library, he came early and helped me read to the kids and keep them all happy. I guess he could tell that I just wasn’t myself. He put all the books back on the cart, and he spoke politely to Miss Homer while she turned the pages of a new book with a new long-haired man, hugging a new fainting lady, on the cover.
When we were done, I led Trip to these rooms in the back where people go for tutoring. It was always really quiet and private there.
Looked at him.
I didn’t know how to begin.
“Did you… did you ever think that something—that everything—was different than what you thought and that… someone you trust… is not telling you… something?” I knew I was babbling.
Trip twisted the key that hung around his neck. “What do you—what do you mean? Did you—what do you mean?” He looked scared. I’d probably look scared, too, if someone I thought was a normal human seventh grader suddenly started talking like a crazy person.
I took a breath.
And I said it fast.
“What if my mama isn’t dead?”
Trip shook his head. “Wait, what?”
The tears I’d been holding back started falling and falling and falling as that giant tangled knot in my head started to come loose. Trip looked like he didn’t know what to do. He began to reach out to me and then stopped.
“I found out something,” I said between these big gulpy breaths.
“What do you—G, what did you find?”
“I found…” I looked up at his face. “I found Cherries in the Snow.…” And then the whole story came tumbling out. I told him about the lipstick, about Ida, about the list and the phone calls. I told him about Classic Cosmetics, the clickety keys, and 39 Red Cedar Road. I told him everything that had happened at Haven’s house, and I talked and talked until the tangled-up knots in my head were all unraveled and lying there in a big messy heap.
“What are the chances that someone else in the whole wide world has Mama’s and DiDi’s exact name and wears Mama’s lipstick and lives in our old town? What are the chances there’s someone else in Verity—in the universe!—named Delta Dawn Barnes?”
“Did you talk to Haven and Allie about it?”
“No.”
“Did you ask DiDi?”
My heart twisted. “No. You’re the only person I’ve told. Trip… you’re the only person I can tell.”
Trip was quiet for a moment. Then nodded. Like he understood how there are some things you can only tell one person. He took my hand in his. It was the first time he had ever done that. “What are you going to do?”
I had been thinking about it every second of every moment since I’d heard Sales Associate Jamie say “39 Red Cedar Road.” There was only one answer.
“I’m going to go.”
Trip squeezed my hand. Hard. “What do you mean? Go where? To that Cedar place? Like a million miles away? G, you don’t even know if it’s safe! You can’t just go there all by yourself!”
“You’re right,” I said. “I can’t.”
And even though I knew it could make everything all tied up and tangled again, I pulled one last string.
“Trip, I need you to run away with me to South Carolina.”
Tangled-Up Pie
• 1 tablespoon butter
• 1 tablespoon vegetable oil
• Leftover cold spaghetti with tomato sauce (about 4 cups)
• 2 beaten eggs
• 2 cups pizza cheese
• Crushed red pepper flakes and grated Parmesan cheese for serving
Now, I’ll say right away that this works best with leftover spaghetti. I don’t know why, but I’m guessing things are just better when they’ve had a chance to sit awhile and figure out what they want to be.
Heat up your best skillet and melt the butter with the oil in it. I like to get it up to medium-high heat, because then you get a nice crisp crust and the oil keeps the butter from burning right away.
Mix the cold spaghetti and eggs and cheese in a big bowl and then dump it into your hot pan. It’ll sizzle right away and make the nice crust.
Lower the heat to medium and cover the skillet. After about 15 minutes or so, check it, and if it looks pretty good, slip a spatula in there and flip the whole thing over. Sometimes I slide the whole thing off onto a plate and then flip it over in the pan. Mary Elizabeth claims that if you practice a whole lot, you can flip it in the air, like those chefs in fancy restaurants. But I’ll believe that when I see it. Let the other side cook and crisp up for maybe another 15 minutes, then when it’s done, slide it onto a big plate and cut it into wedges. Pass the grated cheese and red pepper flakes.
Serves 4.