It's an Aardvark-Eat-Turtle World (5 page)

The latest thing is this family war.

It looks like I'm going to have to give up being stubborn first.

If there's one thing I'm stubborn about, it's about giving up.

Phoebe stands up to leave.

It's now or never.

“Phoebe,” I blurt out.

She turns to me and stands there.

“Please sit down,” I say.

“Why?”

“We have to talk,” I say.

“Why?”

“Come on.” I speak softly. “We're friends—remember? Let's try to work it out.”

She sits down and starts to cry. “I'm not sure that we can.”

I sit down next to her. “We have to.”

“It's not going to work out.” Phoebe shakes her head.

“Can't you give it another chance?”

Phoebe says, “Mindy's got to apologize . . . get off my back . . . not tell me how to live my life.”

I don't know what to do. I can't make Mindy apologize. I'm not even sure that she should if Phoebe doesn't also.

Phoebe continues. “I don't like this any better than you do. How do you think I feel? My father won't even talk to me anymore unless I apologize. You and I are fighting. Do you think that I want to live like this?”

We both sit silently.

My brain hurts from trying to come up with a solution.

Finally, Phoebe sighs. “Tell them I'm willing to sit in on that family conference that they want. Tell
them not to expect miracles. I'm not the one who has to apologize, but I'll be there.”

“Why don't you tell them?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I'll go to the conference. You tell them. Please.”

It's a beginning, I think as I go downstairs to inform Jim and Mindy of this latest development. I only hope that the middle comes next, not the end.

“W
elcome to our happy home.” That's what I want to say as everyone sits down in the living room.

Somehow I don't think sarcasm is going to help, though.

It's five o'clock already, and it was hard enough figuring out where we'd meet.

Mindy thought it would be a good idea to sit around the dining-room table, since it's round and no one would be at the head of it.

Jim thought that was a bad idea. He grew up in a family where people yelled at each other all the time at meals while sitting around the table. In our house he wants us to feel good at the table.

Personally I wouldn't care if we held the family conference in the bathtub, fully dressed, as long as this mess got straightened out.

Mindy's sitting on a chair, working on a patchwork quilt. She only works on it when she's upset about something that she's done or something that's been done to her. Then she calls it her patchwork guilt. She's been working on it for years, off and on.

Phoebe's lying on her stomach, staring at her watch.

Jim's sitting crosslegged on a cushion on the floor, looking very serious.

I'm sitting in a wicker rocker.

Nobody's talking and it's driving me absolutely nuts.

Finally Jim begins. “I want everything to be all straightened out by the end of this meeting.”

“And I want to be Queen of England. That's about as likely as everything working out.” Phoebe glares.

“Maybe we shouldn't even waste our time.” Mindy
looks up from the quilt. “I'm getting sick and tired of what's been going on in this house and I'm not going to waste my time sitting here if nothing is going to be resolved.”

There's silence again.

I can't think of anything to say to make it better.

Jim starts again. “Let's all try to get this worked out . . . .Phoebe, I want you to understand something. It was my fault that Mindy said anything. I got very angry that you were in front of our house, making out in broad daylight. I was going to go out to the car and yell, but Mindy persuaded me not to do that. She felt that it would embarrass you and Dave. She said that she would talk to you about it later. Protecting you was what Mindy wanted.”

Phoebe looks at him and then at Mindy. She looks a little less angry.

Mindy puts down her sewing. “I was wrong to discuss the situation in a public place. I'm sorry for that.”

Phoebe nods. “You were wrong.”

Mindy sighs. “I just said that.”

Damn it. Can't Phoebe give in one inch, just accept Mindy's apology without making her feel awful, and let us get on with our lives?

Phoebe looks at Jim. “We always worked things out by
ourselves
. You always get a little weirded out about my going on dates. But before Mindy came into your life, we did okay.”

Jim quietly says, “Mindy came into our lives. In fact, we've all come into each other's lives and have to make adjustments.”

I think about how I had to give up my dog and cat.

Phoebe shakes her head. “I'm always the one who has to make adjustments. I came home from camp and found out that you and Mom were getting a divorce. You both decided on joint custody. So I adjusted to spending half the week with you and the other half with Mom. I'm the one who had to go back and forth. You both stayed in your own places. Then you decided that I should leave all my friends at my old school, my old boyfriend, to move up here with you.”

“You almost got thrown out of that school,” Jim reminds her. “You glued everything down, remember?”

“I remember.” Phoebe's crying. “I guess I didn't adjust so well after all.”

Again there's silence and then Phoebe continues. “I was just really getting used to the new way and everything started to change again. My mother decides
to marry a real creep. I had to adjust to that. Then you and Mindy decide to live together, to give up our wonderful house and the life I was finally used to. I'm supposed to adjust again.”

“I thought we all got along well before,” Mindy says.

“We did.” Phoebe wipes her eyes. “But it's different with all of us under one roof. Why couldn't you wait until Rosie and I went away to college?”

“And put my life on hold for several years?” Jim slams his fist down. “You're being very self-centered.”

“Bottom line,” Phoebe says, “is that no matter how I feel, you are going to do what you want, right?”

Jim thinks about that. “I'm going to try to do what's best for us, and right now I think it's best that we try to work this out and be a family.”

“Come on, Phoebe,” I say. “I really want this, don't you?”

She shrugs. “I don't know, Rosie. I just know that I want us to be best friends, but it was great the way it was before . . . our own houses, our own rooms. We don't even have enough room to put our clothes away. There's no privacy. And I can't even spend time with my boyfriend anymore without there being trouble.”

Mindy looks at her. “And I can't even spend time with Jim without there being trouble. You're acting as if you are absolutely blameless.”

Phoebe looks down at the carpet.

Mindy continues. “It's as if you are the only person in this family who has to make changes, as if you are the only one with anything at stake here. You know, Phoebe, I very carefully made the decision to make this change. It makes my life different too. I happen to love your father very much and want to be with him.”

Phoebe says nothing.

Jim also is being very quiet.

Mindy says, “We're all living here together and will have to get used to that. What I really want is for all of us to be happy. Obviously, that's going to take some work.”

It's kind of depressing. My fantasy's always been that everything would be so easy when we really found the right people to form a family with.

Jim says, “Look, Phoebe. From now on I'll communicate directly with you, not have Mindy do my dirty work for me.”

Mindy looks at him. “You didn't have me do that. I did it on my own. I was wrong. I'm sorry. So I'm
human and make mistakes. I definitely didn't do it out of meanness. What happens if I want to express my own feelings to Phoebe? Am I not supposed to do that? I refuse to accept the role of the wicked stepmother and I'm not going to be a wimp either and be afraid to say what I'm feeling.”

“I don't want to be afraid to say what I feel either,” Phoebe says.

It's so hard getting this mess straightened out. Maybe it would be better if we didn't live together.

“Can I go now? Dave's coming over soon.” Phoebe looks at her watch.

Mindy stares at her. If looks could kill, Phoebe would be planted in the Donners' garden with the turtle.

Jim shakes his head. “Phoebe, you are doing everything you can to try to run this family. You can't do that.”

Silence again.

Jim continues. “Nobody's leaving until you promise to try to work this out.”

We could be here forever, I think.

Phoebe looks at her watch, though, and says, “I'll try.”

Jim says, “Good. I knew I could count on you to be reasonable.”

I'm not as sure of that as he is.

Mindy looks at her. “I want some time alone with you tomorrow, Phoebe, to talk some of this out calmly, sensibly, and privately. Do you think you can do that?”

Phoebe nods.

It certainly seems that a lot in this family is going to revolve around Phoebe. I certainly hope that they don't forget that I'm here and have feelings too.

Jim and Mindy walk out of the room. I'd love to hear their conversation about all this.

Actually, I probably wouldn't.

Coming up to me, Phoebe says, “Rosie, I'm sorry that we've had all this fighting. I don't want us to fight. You're my best friend. Please come to Canada with me. I never told Mom that you weren't coming or anything.”

I'm not sure of what I want to do. Part of me wants to strangle her and the other part wants to make up.

She pleads. “I promise to try to work things out. Look, we'll really have fun. I promise. Don't make me go to Canada alone with my mother and Duane.”

“Are you really going to act differently from now on?” I look at her very closely.

She nods. “Yes. Now, please say yes. It'll be awful without you. I'm sorry for what I said to you, and I'll try to keep the room neater. Just say yes.”

“I figured that you would have asked Beth by now.”

She shakes her head. “No. She's my friend, too, but not like you are. You know how people always need a friend on the outside to talk to when there's trouble in the family. So I talked to Beth.”

Another change. But at least Phoebe's talking about us as a family.

“Come on, Rosie. You're my sister.” Phoebe looks like the Little Nerdlet does when he really wants something.

She likes having a family when she needs one, it seems.

I'll give it one more chance. I guess I want a family all the time.

I only wish we'd start living like one instead of having to talk it all out.

“I'll go,” I tell her.

It's not so easy making happily ever after work.

“W
e're off to see the Gizard,” Jim sings to the melody of the title song of
The Wizard of Oz
.

The four of us are driving down the New York Thruway on our way to La Guardia Airport.

Things have been going pretty well since the conference. It's not perfect, but everyone's trying.

“It's so embarrassing,” Phoebe whispers to me. “He sings that every time we start out on a big trip. He thinks it's funny. Just wait till we get to our
destination. Then he'll say, ‘Well, Toto, I guess we're not in Kansas anymore.'”

“It could be worse,” I say as Mindy joins in with the singing.

It is worse. She's got a terrible voice. She told me once that when she tried out for the high school glee club, the teacher told her to stop fooling around and sing in her normal voice. She was.

Phoebe continues. “Then after he does the Dorothy imitation, he's not done. Eventually he sticks out his finger like E.T. and says, ‘Phone home.' He won't give up until I say it too. You'll see. It's so embarrassing. He does it in front of other people. Why can't he just remind me to call when I get there, like a normal person?”

“La Guardia Airport, coming up,” Jim says, as he turns off the main road.

We arrive in front of the terminal.

As we open the car doors, Jim says, “Well, Toto, I guess we're not in Kansas anymore.”

Phoebe and I look at each other and laugh.

The porter helps get the bags out of the car, and Jim drives off to park the car.

There's a medium bag for me, as well as a piece of
carry-on luggage. I borrowed them from the Little Nerdlet's mother.

Phoebe's got two bags, plus a carry-on. She's got so much packed in hers: electric curlers, hair dryer, portable Water Pik, eight pairs of shoes, pants, shirts, and lots of other stuff. She's also got a fold-up piece of luggage for the stuff she's going to buy.

The porter asks, “Want to check in these bags?”

“Yes,” Mindy says.

“Tickets.” He waits patiently.

“I don't have them.” Mindy looks at Phoebe. “You do, don't you?”

Phoebe shakes her head. “I thought you had them.”

The porter looks at me.

“Not I.” I shake my head.

We all look at each other.

When Phoebe's mother and stepfather sent the tickets, we carefully put them in a safe place on the refrigerator.

I have a feeling that Mr. and Mrs. Carson should have held on to them until we got here. Sometimes I don't understand the way other people's brains work.

“When you get this straightened out, I'll come
back,” the porter says, going over to the curb to help someone else.

We all look at each other.

I hope this doesn't start more trouble between Mindy and Phoebe.

I start to giggle. Sometimes when I get really nervous I do that and can't stop. This problem has caused many detentions.