My face is a ripe tomato by the time I get home, burnt by the sun and flushed from spending the afternoon with my bio lab partner. Devon.
The day turned out so much differently than I’d expected, and not in a someone-announced-she’s-pregnant way. More like a does-Devon-Rudnick-like-me? Way with a side of I-might-like-actually-him.
How is it my best friend knows me better than I know myself?
I burst through the screen door and up the stairs with an energy I haven’t had since, well, ever. The aloe gel Mom keeps on hand for my pasty skin is in the bathroom so I squirt out the green goo and rub it into my cheeks, glad there’s no one to impress at home.
“Are you going to be long?” Annie asks. She’s sulking outside the open door.
“Just a minute.” I draw gooey circles on my forehead.
She sighs all dramatically and shuffles down the stairs in her bare feet. Whatever. She’s been in the bathroom for a lifetime these past few weeks; the least I can have is five minutes of peace.
When I skip into the kitchen later, Mom and Annie suddenly stop talking. Fine, Annie can confide in Mom instead of me. Mom can counsel my sister and then both of them can leave me completely out of everything, as usual.
“The burgers smell awesome,” I say to fill the awkward silence.
“Oh, good, sweetie,” Mom says, a little too excited.
I turn to the patio door so I don’t roll my eyes at her. Dad’s out there grilling up a stack of burgers as if we’ll need a whole pile for our family of four.
Or four-point-five if Annie’s baby counts as a person.
I pick a carrot coin out of the salad bow and pop it in my mouth. Mom slides the bowl away from me and carries it outside to the picnic table.
Annie studies my glowing face. “What did I miss?” she asks.
I crunch my carrot. “Nothing.” There’s no way I’m telling Annie about my canoe ride. I mean she’s already had sex so it isn’t like she’s going to be impressed by it.
Annie takes a sip of ginger ale. “I’m sorry.”
“For what, exactly?”
She peeks outside, I’m guessing to make sure Mom’s not on her way back in. Nope, Mom’s whispering with Dad. That’s what our family’s become: a society of secrets.
I open the fridge and rifle around, not really looking for anything special.
“I’m sorry,” she says again quietly, coming up beside me. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything else. I’m sorry you’re mad at me. If it makes you feel any better, I’m mad at myself.” Tears line her un-made-up eyes. I wish she’d be mean to me so I wouldn’t have this confusing mess of resentment of her and pity for her.
“Why is it such a secret that Harris is the father?” I ask.
Annie’s soda can crunches in her hand. “You didn’t tell anybody, did you?”
“No, of course not –”
Her exhale is the size of a hurricane. “Not even Mom knows about him. Not Justine, not anyone. They can’t know.”
“Don’t worry. I didn’t say anything.”
She nods, like she finally believes me.
“Is it because Brett would be pissed?” I ask.
Annie shakes her head.
“Then why? You’re stressing yourself out more by keeping it from Mom. She’s just trying to help.” I can’t believe I’m sticking up for Mom’s meddling.
Annie holds the ginger ale can tighter. Her fingernails are chewed and charcoal shades her cuticles. “Because –”
“Dinner’s almost ready, girls.” Mom bustles in through the patio door.
We retreat to opposite sides of the island. Part of me wants to tell Mom to order Annie to spit out the truth so we can deal with it and move on. Another part of me, maybe a horrible part, wants Mom to order Annie to have an abortion so the answer to this question doesn’t matter.
I suppress them all and head outside to eat even though a huge lump has grown in my throat. The picnic table is set up in the middle of our square backyard with an overly cheery yellow tablecloth. A breeze has picked up and the arborvitae separating our property from the neighbors creates some nice shade, but I’m sweating just the same.
Between bites of burgers, potato salad, green salad, three-bean salad, and fruit salad, Mom fills the table with one-sided conversation. Dad is being himself, clamped up tighter than a pressure cooker, and Mom’s chattering about everything possible other than the only topic of significance: Annie’s baby.
I wonder if my family always been this resistant to discuss issues, or if there have never been issues to discuss.
Annie picks at her food, even my potato salad that she normally loves, and smiles and nods at the right places. I try to do the same.
My phone rings in my pocket. I reach for it.
“Melanie,” Mom says. “No answering the phone during dinner. Please.”
“I’m done eating,” I say, though I can usually put away twice as much food.
“Mel –” Dad starts, but I leap from the table before anyone can stop me. I’ve sacrificed enough today by staying home and making small talk instead of going to the park.
“Hello?” I say when I reach the patio.
“Mel! What happened with Devon after I left?” Kasey asks. In the background, I hear Dawn laughing, little kids shrieking, poppers snapping. Typical picnic sounds.
“He asked me to go on a canoe ride down the creek,” I say.
“Oh my god! He so likes you!” She pauses. “You went, right?”
Extra warmth returns to my fried cheeks. “Of course I did. I knew you’d kill me if I didn’t.”
“Dude, that’s for sure!” Kasey repeats my words to Dawn, who yelps in excitement. “Then what happened?”
“Um, I got sunburned and promised I’d make him cookies or something to repay him for the ride.” I pace around the grill with a dumb smile on my face.
“Nice! Oh, I’m so glad I dragged you to the park today even though –”
“Shhhhh!” I shush.
“Oh, right. Don’t worry. No one’s listening. OK, well, keep me posted. On everything. All right?”
“OK. Enjoy the fireworks,” I say.
“Right.”
We hang up and when I get back to the table, Mom’s stacking dishes and silverware. I help so she won’t be as mad at me for answering my phone.
“So, who did you go on a canoe ride with this afternoon?” Mom asks.
Oh great, she was totally listening to me. Is eavesdropping the way we discover each other’s secrets around here? I’ll have to remember that.
“No one,” I say, reaching for the plate of remaining burgers.
Annie looks up from her napkin. “Was it Sal Malone?”
“No,” I snap. Is she teasing me because she knows Sal would never go for me? “His name’s Devon.”
Mom gathers our silverware. “I thought you told me you were going out by yourself this afternoon?”
“I was,” I say.
“Well then how did this Devon boy become involved?” Mom asks. “Did he have life jackets?”
“Jo,” Dad says, wiping his hands on a paper napkin like he’s too tired to even deal with another disobedient daughter, “let it go.”
“Life jackets?” I can’t withdraw my shock. “Mom, the water’s like two feet deep.”
“The creek can get quite high during rainstorms,” Mom says.
“It wasn’t raining,” Dad says. “It hasn’t rained in over a week.”
Mom huffs. “Well is it so wrong to want to know who my daughter is hanging out with and what she’s doing? She still lives in our house, Charles.”
“Oh, sure, take it out on me because you couldn’t keep an eye on Annie,” I say.
“Hey –” Annie starts, but stops just as quickly because really, what defense does she have?
“Melanie,” Mom says, “just because your sister isn’t feeling well enough to go to the park doesn’t mean you have to bring her into this.”
“She brought herself into this. When have I ever gone off and gotten pregnant?” I’ve gone too far but it’s too late to stop. “You want to know so much about Devon but you don’t even know who Annie’s baby’s father is! Try questioning your other daughter.”
Annie’s glare is sharp as a paring knife.
“Of course we want to know,” Mom says at the same time that Dad says, “Melanie!”
I storm off, leaving my family to clean up. If Mom wants a happy little get together with her perfect daughters, she better prepare for disappointment. I won’t let her forget that everything’s not all right even if she wants to hide in our backyard.