Bittersweet Dreams (22 page)

My father was quieter than usual in the morning. He always had things to say to Allison. Sometimes I thought he was sweeter to her than he was to me, but I excused that by thinking she was so much younger and more insecure. I couldn't remember being as insecure as she was, and I supposed my father never thought I needed as much reinforcement, but that didn't stop me from feeling sibling rivalry. In short, I was jealous, something I never imagined I would be.

“I'm sorry about all this happening to you, Mayfair,” he said when we'd arrived at the school. “Let's just let things calm down for a while and then talk about it some more, okay? The three of us can have a family meeting.”

“I don't need things to calm down to talk about them, Daddy. But I know you do,” I said. “Or should I say, Julie does, which has become the same thing, unfortunately.”

He didn't like that, and he didn't answer. I closed the car door and followed Allison into the school. Probably the thing I was most curious about this morning was the way Alan Taylor would look at me and what he might say. Like all homeroom teachers, he was at his doorway. Dr. Richards wanted his teachers always keeping an eye on the students as they passed through the hallways, especially in the morning. That's what Alan meant when he told me that being observant was in the job description.

He saw me coming toward him, but he didn't smile, nor did he acknowledge me in any particular way. Instead, he started to talk to a seventh-grader and turned his back on me. It gave me the strangest feeling. I wasn't angry as much as I was confused. It was almost as if I had dreamed everything that had happened between us.

Two periods later, I had another opportunity to walk past his classroom, and once again, he was in the doorway. This time, he looked at me, but it was as though he had never spoken to me and didn't know anything about me. It was the look someone would give a total stranger, an empty glance, his eyes shifting quickly toward someone he did know, and then a smile and chatter.

Perhaps he thought it was too dangerous for us to be seen talking to each other now, I thought. That had to be it. Why else would he ignore me today? Maybe, just maybe, someone had seen us together, and he was trying to show Dr. Richards that there was nothing to it.

The school day was passing quickly. I was bored and distracted in every class, and during math, I read nearly all of
Crime and Punishment.
I wasn't a speed-reader like those people trained in the Evelyn Wood methods. There was a trade-off between speed and comprehension. Long ago, during some educational psychological testing, it was determined that I had another gift associated with my super intelligence. It was the ability to gulp thousands of words and process them instantly. It was not uncommon for me at age five to read a book a day and understand each and every word, and those were books read by adults.

When the bell rang at the end of the period that I knew was the one right before Alan Taylor's free period, I strolled down to his room to see if he would beckon for me to come in. He was just leaving when I approached. He turned and saw me. I anticipated at least a smile this time. There was no one else in the hallway, but he turned again instead and hurried off toward the faculty room. I almost called to him but choked back his name and watched him disappear around the corner.

What could possibly be the reason for his ignoring me completely?

I debated remaining after school so I could confront him, but I didn't. Perhaps it was better that he find a way to contact me safely, I thought, and went out to get into Julie's car with Allison. I sat in the rear, where I normally sat, and, as usual, didn't offer a word of conversation. Julie looked more nervous than usual.

The day had turned quite overcast. A storm was blowing in from the north, and that meant rain was very possible, and the temperatures were dropping. The weather fit my mood now. I almost welcomed it.

“You were pretty hard on your father yesterday,” Julie finally said, after we had been riding for a while.

I didn't respond, but Julie was one of those people who always had to have the last word.

“I know you're a very intelligent person, Mayfair, yes, probably a genius, but you really need to work on your people skills.”

“And what are people skills, pray tell?” I couldn't help but ask.

“You probably don't know this,” she said, “but I took a course in people skills.”

“No, I didn't know there was such a course. Where was it given? The mall, Saks, Nordstrom? How many times did you have to take it to pass?”

“You're not funny, Mayfair. I happen to get along very well with most people, no matter what position they're in or how important they are. And you want to know why?”

“I have a feeling you're going to tell me, no matter what, so why?”

“Because I show people that I care about what they say and who they are. I keep an open mind. No matter what you accomplish in your life and what honors you receive, you're still going to have to communicate with others.”

“I'm impressed, Julie. That's two out of three.”

“Two out of three what?”

“Complete sentences. The first was an adverbial clause, what we call a sentence fragment. Allison knows what I mean,” I said. “I've helped her with her grammar homework.”

Allison looked at me, frightened that I was somehow turning her into an ally against her mother.

“Okay, be like that. I tried. You never gave me a chance to be a friend to you, a mother. I am your father's wife, and that's a fact that can't be denied. I love that man. I'm warning you. I won't sit back and let you hurt him.”

“Don't worry about it,” I said. It was a weak thing to say, but there was no doubt in my mind that she had greater influence over my father now than I did, maybe than I ever had. I hated the fact that he was a man and, like most, was vulnerable to a good-looking woman. He needed that, maybe as much as he needed me, if he did need me.

My eyes stung with tears that I wouldn't release. Now that I thought more about it, I hated the idea that in my father's eyes, Julie would care for him, protect him, more than I did or perhaps more than I could.

“And despite any of this, all that's going on in this house,” she continued, almost under her breath, “Allison is going to grow up normal, because she will permit me to be her mother, to be her friend and give her the benefit of my experience. She's going to have friends and go on dates and go to parties and go to college.”

“And get married, live in a house with a white picket fence, and have other little Allisons,” I said.

“Exactly.” She nodded at me in the rearview mirror. “Exactly. And as much ridicule as you toss over it, normal relationships give you the best chance at being happy.”

“Like your first one?”

“You're just trying to hurt someone else because you feel hurt,” she said.

I turned away, folding my arms and leaning against the window. Sometimes Julie's arrows hit their targets. That one did.

The rain began to fall. The monotonous sound of the wipers began.

Allison turned around to look at me, then quickly turned back so her mother wouldn't think she felt sorry for me in any way.

Right now, I didn't need her to do that anyway. I didn't need anyone to do it.

I was feeling sorry enough for myself.

When my phone rang that night, I thought there was a real possibility that it was Alan Taylor. I had given him my private phone number because I had hoped he would be calling me to arrange our next rendezvous. I had explained that he could risk a phone call because I had my privacy at home. When we had walked on the beach, I had talked about my life after my mother had died and especially after my father had remarried. By the time the evening was over, Alan certainly knew what I thought of Julie and how disappointed I had been in my father for marrying her and catering to her so much. During our dinner, I had described how little I had to do with her and even with my father at this point. I'd made it sound as if I lived in my own cave in our house.

Maybe he was calling to explain his behavior toward me in school, I thought. I was ready to accept any excuse and believe any reason he had, as long as it wouldn't prevent us from seeing each other again. Our lovemaking had been the centerpiece of my daydreaming.

I practically tore the receiver off the cradle, but as soon as I heard the voice of the caller, my heart felt like it had dropped into a sinkhole. It wasn't Alan. It was Joy, my new best friend whether I liked it or not. I had followed through on one promise to her. I had gotten her a good deal of information about anorexia, its symptoms, causes, and treatment. There was even a list of possible therapists in the area. I had put stars next to the names of the ones I thought might be most helpful. She had promised she would give it all to her mother, and I gave her my private phone number in case she or her mother had to ask me a question about any of it. Now I regretted it.

“How are you?” she asked.

“I saw you today, Joy. You know how I am. I'm fine.”

“No, you're not, Mayfair,” she said with uncharacteristic authority. “Is something else bothering you?”

“Why would you ask that?”

She was quiet.

“Were you watching me again, following me all day?”

I wondered if she had seen how many times I deliberately passed Alan Taylor's classroom and how I looked toward him, anticipating some personal recognition. If she had seen my face, she might have noticed my disappointment. Was she smart enough to suspect anything?

“I just want to be able to do something for you,” she said. “You're trying to do something for me. My mother was impressed with the information you gave me. We had a talk. She admitted other people have said something to her about me. I will be seeing someone, one of the names you put a star next to.”

“Good. Good luck.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you sure there's nothing going on? Are those girls annoying you? Did someone say something to you, Carlton James or anyone?”

“No, and if they did, it wouldn't bother me at all. You should know that, Joy.”

“I know. That's why I really thought it might be something else.”

“There's nothing you can help me with, Joy.”

“Oh. So there is something bothering you, but it's something I can't help you with?”

“No.”

“You're sure?”

I was surprised that she hung on to my exact wording. Maybe I was rubbing off on her. “Don't be a nag,” I said, and she laughed. I thought about her for a moment. She was such a lost soul. She was trying desperately to have a friend, to be needed, and to contribute something of value. I didn't have to be so hard on her right now just because I was hoping for Alan Taylor to be calling. “Thanks anyway for offering,” I added, which I knew made her happy.

“If you ever need a friend for anything,” she said, “please choose me.”

“Okay, Joy.”

“I mean it. Promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Look, I've got to go,” I said. “I left a physics problem on the stove.”

“What?”

“I'm just kidding, but I do have some reading I want to do tonight. Thanks again for calling.”

“Okay,” she said. “See you tomorrow. 'Night.”

I hung up.

I couldn't imagine how she could help me with anything, especially Alan Taylor, but I had to admit to myself that it was nice hearing her offer, nice knowing someone was caring enough about me for whatever reason to sense that something wasn't right with me. I wondered what she would do if I really did confide in her. She probably wouldn't tell anyone at school, but she might tell her mother. Why take the chance? What would I gain? She certainly didn't have the experience to offer me any sensible suggestions. Besides, it required too much trust. As sad as it seemed, I doubted I would ever meet anyone in whom I could invest such confidence. Even my father had fallen into the realm of doubt.

Nothing was very different during the remainder of the school week and the beginning of the next. The bitches of
Macbeth
finally seemed to be bored with me and my apparent lack of interest in them. I imagined that everything surrounding the episode in the locker room discouraged them. I wasn't acting destroyed by it. There wasn't enough excitement in it anymore. Little did they know that my silence and further withdrawal from everything in the school had less to do with them and more to do with Alan Taylor, but there was no doubt in my mind about what they would do if they knew about that.

Alan continued to ignore me, to do everything he could to avoid looking directly at me, and he didn't say a word to me, even though there were a few opportunities for him to do so. I couldn't get myself to approach him and force him to acknowledge me. It felt too much like begging for attention, and besides, Joy was practically attached to me whenever she could be. It was like I had given birth to a second shadow. She had begun to see a therapist and was making some progress. I didn't want to do anything to detract from that. I knew my interest in her, albeit more scientific than emotional, was an important reason for her effort to recuperate. She wanted my approval. Right now, she was the only one who wanted that.