Crystal (9 page)

I wanted to ask her how she could watch the show this way. I wanted to point out that the sound was off, but I couldn't get myself to do it. It was like telling someone what they saw wasn't real, that it was only make-believe.
Thelma needed make-believe, I thought. Who was I to tell her she couldn't have it or she shouldn't believe?
I let her hold my hand tighter and sat beside her in silence.
It was the way Karl found us when he returned.

After dinner, Ashley and her mother, Vera, came to offer condolences to Thelma. Ashley had all the homework I had missed at the end of the day, even from the classes Bernie and I shared. She told me he had given it to her on the bus. I felt let down because I had hoped he would bring it over himself. Sometimes my eyes were like windows with the shades up. Ashley took one look at me and saw the disappointment.

"Bernie's really very shy," she said. "I'm probably one of the few people he speaks to once in a while, and that's only because I never make fun of him. I think he's brilliant?'

"He
is
brilliant," I said. I took Ashley to my room while her mother visited with Thelma and Karl.
"What was it like living in an orphanage?" she asked as soon as we were alone. Was there anyone who looked at me and didn't wonder about that? "Were the adults cruel to you?"
"It's not like an orphanage in a Dickens novel," I said.
"What's a Dickens novel?"

"Charles Dickens?
A Christmas Carol? Tale of Two Cities? Hard Times?
Doesn't any of that ring a bell?" I followed with a frown.

"Oh yeah," she said, but she still had a blank look on her face.
"What I mean is, it isn't like living with your own family, having your own room, but you're not made to shovel coal or wash floors, and you don't have to wear rags and eat gruel."
"Gruel? Ugh."
"You don't have to eat it," I emphasized. "I wasn't happy there, but I wasn't being tortured."
She nodded. "Helga says girls who live in orphanages lose their virginity faster," she
commented.
"What? Where does she get the right to make such a stupid statement? How does, she know about girls who live in orphanages?" I demanded.
Ashley shrugged. "It's just what she says."
"Well, for your information and for hers, it isn't so." I saw the way Ashley was staring at me. "I haven't lost mine," I added. "It sounds to me like Helga's lost hers."
Ashley laughed. "Sometimes I think she wishes she did. The way she chases after some of the boys, I mean. She told me she would let Todd Philips do anything he wanted if he took her out."
"She said that?"
"Uh-huh." Ashley nodded, those big eyes even bigger.
"She might be disappointed," I muttered.
"Why?" Ashley asked quickly. "I thought that was the most wonderful thing that could happen."
"Who told you that?"
She shrugged again. "I just listen to what the others say, especially those who've had sex and brag about it in the girls' room. They make it sound wonderful."
"Well, I wouldn't really know . . . I've never . ." I was about to tell Ashley I'd never even been kissed, but I didn't really trust that she would keep that information to herself. "I've never been one to kiss and tell," I said instead.
We talked a while about movie star kisses and who we thought kissed best, and I could tell that Ashley was as curious about what it would be like to kiss a boy as I was.
After Ashley left, I began my homework, eager to think about something other than boys. Before Thelma and Karl went to sleep, he returned to my room.
"Maybe you should go to school tomorrow, Crystal. There's really no point in your sitting around here all day."
"Won't Thelma need me?" I asked.
He thought a moment. "She'll sleep a lot," he said. "Just the same, I think stay nearby," I offered. He smiled. "Okay. You're probably right. It's nice to have someone else in the house who cares about her," he added. I thought he might come farther into my room and kiss me good night, but he stood there, nodding a moment longer, and then he said good night and closed the door.
It takes time to become father and daughter, I thought, and with some it takes a lot longer.
Thelma didn't rise as early as she ordinarily did the next morning. Karl brought her some breakfast and then asked me to look in on her after a while. He said he was off to check on Grandpa before going to work. I offered to go along, but he said he would have to bring me home afterward and that would add too much time to his being away from his office.
"You'd be surprised how the work piles up on me," he said.
"Won't they understand at the company?" I asked him.
"No one supervises me more than I supervise myself," Karl replied. He nodded, his eyes intense. "That's the secret to being successful, Crystal: demand more of yourself than others do. You're your own best critic, understand?"
"Yes," I said.
He left, and I sat quietly, reading ahead in my history book, imagining what the next assignment would be. A little over an hour later, Thelma appeared in the living-room doorway. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes bloodshot. Her skin was ashen. She looked as if she had aged years in one night. She had a half dozen tissues clutched in her hand. Still in her nightgown, she shuffled across the room in what looked like Karl's slippers and plopped with a deep sigh into her favorite chair.
"Would you like something, Mom'?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I don't like thinking about my mother," she said softly. "It hurts. I wanted to go to the phone to call her this morning like I usually do before
Shadows at Dawn.
I actually lifted the receiver before I remembered she was gone."
She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "What can I do?" she cried.
"We could talk, Mom. Sometimes it feels better when you talk about what's bothering you," I said. My counselors always used that line on me when I was at the orphanages. There really was some truth to it, however.
Thelma stared at me a moment. "I can't," she said, shaking her head. "Every time I think about her, I start to cry. I can't. It's better not to think" She snapped up the television remote as if it were a bottle of pills promising relief.
She turned on the television set and flipped through the channels until she found a program she liked this time, she left the sound on, too. She began to react to what she was watching, smiling, laughing, looking concerned. I had begun to read again when I suddenly heard her say, "I dread going to the funeral tomorrow. Why do we have to have funerals?"
"It's our last chance to say good-bye," I said, even though I had never been to a funeral before and the very thought of going put almost as much apprehension in me.
"I
don't want to say good-bye." She moaned. "I hate good-byes. I wish I could just sit here and watch it on television. That way, if it got too sad, I could turn it off, turn to something else."
"My psychologist at the orphanage always told me it's worse to avoid your problems, Mom. It's better to face them and deal with them," I said softly.
She stared at me a moment and then smiled "You're so smart," she said. "We're lucky to have you. I will have something to eat. Could you make me some scrambled eggs and toast?"
"Sure," I said, getting up quickly.
"And some coffee," she called as I started out. Then she turned back to her program.
Thelma remained there most of the day, getting up only to go to the bathroom. I made her lunch as well. She didn't talk unless she had a comment to make about something she was watching. The highlight of her day began when her first soap was on. After that, I might as well have gone to school. Karl called to see how she was and to tell me that he had someone taking care of Grandpa. I told him what Thelma was doing.
"Maybe she's better off," he said.
"I'm not doing much," I complained I wanted to add that he'd been right. I should have gone to school.
"You're there. That's something," he said. "She probably wouldn't eat anything otherwise."
He was right about that, but I still felt more like a maid than a daughter. I wanted to talk. I wanted to hear Thelma tell stories about her mother, about what it was like being her daughter, the things they had shared, their precious moments, all that she would miss. I wanted to feel that I was part of a family and not back in the orphanage with strangers.
When Thelma started to cry about what was happening to a character on her program, I got up and went to my room. How could she care so much more about make-believe people? Was it because it felt safer? The program ended, and you didn't have to think about them anymore? Was that it? But Thelma seemed to think about the characters constantly, not just when the show was on. I couldn't make any sense of it.
A little while later, the doorbell rang. It was Ashley and her mother again, only this time Bernie was with them.
"Hi," I said, smiling mostly for Bernie's benefit.
"How's she doing?" Mrs. Raymond asked.
"She's been watching television, trying not to think about it," I said.
"I don't blame her," Mrs. Raymond said.
"We brought all your homework," Ashley said. "And Bernie came along to help explain anything new."
"Thanks."
I stepped back, and everyone entered. Mrs. Raymond went to see Thelma, and I took Ashley and Bernie to my room. Bernie opened the math book and began to talk about the new problems immediately. I listened and nodded when he asked if I understood.
Ashley sat on my bed and watched us work. When his explanations ended, Bernie sat at my computer.
"So when is the funeral?" he asked.
"In the morning. There won't be many people there. Karl's father isn't able to travel, and his brother in Albany can't get away. His younger brother is at sea. None of Thelma's cousins are coming Some of my grandparents' older friends will be there."
"And my mother will be there," Ashley said quickly. "She won't let me. She says I have to go to school."
"She's right," Bernie said. "School is more important. Funerals are really unnecessary."
"Unnecessary? How can you say that?" Ashley asked.
"When someone dies, it's over. There's no point in wasting any more time about it."
"That's a horrible thing to say," Ashley declared. "You have to pay respect."
"To what? The person's gone. You're better off saying good-bye to a picture," he remarked. "I hated going to my grandfather's funeral. There was a big party afterward, full of people who really never knew him It was just an excuse for a party."
"We're not having anything afterward," I said. "Good," Bernie said.
"That's cruel, Bernie Felder," Ashley charged.
"I'm just being realistic," he said. "When you die, you return to some form of energy, and that energy goes into something else. That's it."
"What else?" Ashley asked, her eyebrows hoisted so high they were practically in the middle of her forehead.
"I don't know. Maybe. . . a plant or a bug."

"A bug! Crystal, you don't believe that, do you?"
"I don't know what I believe," I said. "Sometimes I imagine my real mother is with me, her spirit, but then I think that's silly."
"It's not silly. It's beautiful," Ashley said. "I'm not going to be any bug, Bernie Felder. Maybe you are."
"Maybe," Bernie said casually.
"You don't care?"
"Why should I care? I won't know anything different," he said, and Ashley groaned.
"I swear," she said. "Scientists are the most boring people. I hate the subject, especially
experiments with all those smelly chemicals and dead worms. Experiments make me sick."
"I bet I can think of an experiment you'd like. How about an experiment to find out what kind of kisses we like best?" I asked her, thinking she'd call my bluff.
"Crystal!" she said, shifting her eyes to Bernie.
"What kind of experiment?" he asked excitedly.
I made up an experiment that was almost like a contest--judging the best kiss. He listened and nodded without laughing. Ashley's face turned pink when I turned to ask if she was willing to join in.
"Interesting," Bernie said. "I don't see how it's really scientific . . ." He thought a moment and then nodded at me. "But I'd like to be part of it."
"Good," I said.
"What?" Ashley cried. "Crystal, I thought you were just kidding!"
"Don't be chicken, Ashley," Bernie said. "It's not like we're doing anything serious--just kissing?'
"But I don't want to be judged against Crystal . I've never kissed a boy before!" she cried, turning to me for help.
I wanted to make Ashley feel better and tell her I'd never kissed a boy, either, but I wanted to keep my inexperience from Bernie. "You'll have to swear to keep this a secret. You know what someone like Helga would do if she found out."
Ashley looked at Bernie and then at me apprehensively.
"You're not going to get pregnant or anything like that," Bernie promised. "You're just going to discover more about yourself, and it will be knowledge that will make you wiser, stronger. That's the purpose and power of knowledge."
"He's right," I said. "Okay?"
"Maybe," Ashley said. "I'll see," she added cautiously, but I could tell she was almost as intrigued about it as we were.
Bernie volunteered to set up what he called the control procedures. He said we would be more secure if we met at his house. With some reluctance, Ashley agreed.
"This is like playing doctor," she whispered to me when we left my room.
"Did you ever do that?" I asked. She shifted her eyes to Bernie and then to me.
"No," she said. "Did you?"
"No, but I wanted to," I admitted.
She took a small breath and said, "Me, too:'
Then she hurried to join her mother and leave, frightened by her own confession.
The funeral the next day was simple and took less time than I expected, probably because Karl had everything so well organized. After the church service, the undertaker's car took us to the cemetery. Grandpa looked very fragile, clinging to the arm of a special- duty nurse Karl had hired. Thelma seemed like someone drugged, right from the moment she woke and dressed. Whenever I looked at her, her eyes were unfocused and distant. It was as if they were open but shut off, and she was not seeing or listening to anything that went on around her. She had retreated into her own mind. Maybe she was replaying one of her television programs.
Karl led her about, moving everyone along gracefully and efficiently. Some of the people from his office attended the church service, but at the cemetery, there were only two other elderly couples who had been friends with Thelma's mother, her father and the nurse, Thelma, Karl, me, Ashley's mother, and the minister.
It really wasn't a good day for a funeral. It was too warm and bright with a nearly cloudless sky, the blue more like turquoise. At the cemetery, the air was filled with the aroma of freshly cut grass. Birds flitted from tree to tree, and squirrels frolicked about the tombstones as if the entire cemetery had been created for their sole pleasure.
I couldn't help wondering what my real mother's funeral must have been like. I imagined myself finding out where she was buried and going to visit her grave someday. What would I say? Who would hear it, anyway? Was Bernie right? Was there nothing left of us afterward, or did something precious linger, something we didn't understand, couldn't understand?
On the way home, Thelma finally spoke. She said, "Poor Mom. I hope she's not alone."
That was what Thelma was most afraid of, I thought, being alone. For years, her television programs had provided her with the families and friends she never had in real life. They had filled her life with distraction and kept her from thinking about her own loneliness. Karl thought adopting me would help, but I still didn't feel I was giving them much, and I certainly didn't feel we were a family. At least, not what I thought a family would be like.
Grandpa came home with us to eat, but he fell asleep in his chair after having only a few bites. He looked as if he had shrunken and withered with his sorrow. I hoped in my secret heart that someday, somehow, I would find someone who loved me as much. That, I thought, was the true antidote to loneliness, the best cure of all.
Two days later, Grandpa had a stroke and was taken to the hospital. He didn't die, but he was so incapacitated Karl had to arrange for him to be placed in permanent institutional care. Thelma couldn't stand the thought of visiting him in such surroundings.
"Why do we have to grow old?" She moaned. "It's not fair. Elena doesn't look a day older than she did when I first started to watch
Shadows of Forever
We should all live inside a television program."
Karl shook his head helplessly and went back to his business magazine. I returned to my homework, and our lives continued as if we were three shadows searching for a way to become whole again.
We visited Karl's father, but it wasn't any more successful a visit than the first one. He grew impatient with Thelma's sad demeanor and Karl's criticism of his lifestyle and went off to be with his friends. A few days later, Karl's brother Stuart finally drove over from Albany to meet me and offer his sympathies to Thelma. He was taller and thinner than Karl, but he had colder eyes and a hard, chiseled face on which a smile settled only fleetingly. He asked me questions about school
_Jtit
seemed uncomfortable when I spoke to him and looked at him. I noticed he avoided my eyes and didn't look directly at me when he spoke to me.
After Stuart left, Karl revealed that his brother had almost become a monk. He said it was still possible that one day he would.
"People make him nervous," he said. "He cherishes solitude."
"How does he work as a salesman, then?" I asked. "Salesmen have to meet people."
"He does most of his work over the telephone. He's a telemarketer."
I was disappointed. I had been hoping my uncle would be friendlier and more fun. I had even imagined going to visit him in Albany. I complained about it to Bernie and Ashley the day after.
Ever since we had decided to be part of an experiment, Ashley began to hang around with me, and consequently with Bernie, more at school. She sat with us at lunch.
"My biggest hope was that I would become part of a real family," I said, "and have relatives with parties and birthdays, anniversaries and weddings. All of it. Sometimes I feel more alone than I was at the orphanage."
Ashley looked very sad for me, her eyes full of pain, but Bernie sat musing for a moment as if I had brought up a topic from science class.
"Family is overrated," he suddenly declared with that confident, really arrogant air in which he answered questions and made statements in class. "It's a myth created by greeting-card companies. People are too into themselves to be that sort of thing anymore."
"That's terrible. My family isn't into
themselves," Ashley protested.
Bernie's eyebrows nearly touched as he creased his lips. "Your father is always traveling. You told us that yourself a few days ago, and your mother is terrified of becoming old, just like mine. Face it," he said, nodding at me, "we're not so much different from Crystal. No one really listens to us. Usually, we're in the way. At best, we're a mild annoyance."
"I'm not!"
"We're all orphans," Bernie muttered. "We're all searching for something that's not there."
"That's not true. You don't believe that, Crystal, do you?"
"I don't know," I said. "I don't want to believe that, but I don't know?'
Ashley looked terribly distraught, ready to get up and run away. Then Bernie leaned in to whisper. "Let's not worry about all that. Let's get to our experiment. I'm ready," he said. "My house tonight, about seven-thirty. Okay?"
I looked at Ashley. Her face suddenly changed from dark to light, her eyes shifting nervously as she looked at me and then at Bernie.
"Fine," I said. "Ashley?"
"Okay," she said in a small voice. "But I'm not an orphan"
Bernie laughed. I hadn't heard him laugh that hard before. It brought a smile to my face, and that made Ashley smile, too.
Across the cafeteria, the other students who had been looking at us with disdain were now suddenly full of curiosity about us.
But nowhere near as much as we were about ourselves.