Just as Long as We're Together (11 page)

My eyes filled with tears. I sniffled and checked my pockets for a tissue to blow my nose. But the pockets were empty. I pulled on Bruce's hat.

A few minutes later Dad parked his car by the side of the road. "Steph . . ." he called, waving for me to join him.

I acted like I didn't even notice.

So Dad came down to the pond. "We missed you this weekend," he said, sitting beside me on the log.

I didn't say anything.

He picked up a stick and began scratching the ground with it. "I'm sorry you found out the way you did. Mom and I should have told you sooner."

I still didn't respond.

"Look. . ." he said, "I just want you to know that no matter what happens I'll always be your father."

"Did you read that in some book?" I asked.

"Some book that tells you how to talk to your kids when you're separating because you're bored with your life?"

"I didn't read it anywhere," Dad said. "It's how I feel. And who told you I was bored with my life?"

"Mom. . . who do you think?" A squirrel ran in front of us. I watched him for a minute, then I looked over at Dad. "Is it true?"

"I suppose it is in some ways . . ." Dad said. "But it has nothing to do with you or Bruce."

"Does it have to do with Mom?"

"Not with Mom exactly . . . but with the direction of our marriage."

"And all this time I thought you had to go to California." I practically spit out those words.

"We needed time apart . . . to think things through. . ."

"So how come you couldn't think in Connecticut or New York? How come you had to go across the country to think?"

~'It seemed easier at the time." He glanced at his watch. "I've got a plane to catch."

"Planes are more important than families, right?"

He sucked in his breath but he didn't deny it. "I want you and Bruce to come out to L.A. over Christmas," he said. "We'll have more time to talk then." He leaned over to kiss me but I pulled

away from him. "You're making this very hard, Steph."

"Good," I told him.

Rachel called that night. "Our weekend was a disaster!" she said. "My brother was so obnoxious

he had Mom and Jessica in tears . . . Dad lost his temper. . . and finally, Charles stormed out of my aunt's house and went to stay with friends. I don't know why he has to be so impossible. I don't know why he can't get along with us. Anyway, I can't think of a worse Thanksgiving!" She paused to catch her breath. "So how was yours?"

"Great."

"How was your father?"

"Great."

"What'd you do?"

"We ate a lot."

Rachel laughed. "Did you go to the city?"

''No.~~

"I thought you would."

"No time."

"When will your father be back?"

"He's not sure."

"For Christmas?"

"Probably."

"Well. . . the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas always goes fast."

"Yeah. . . right."

"Oh, I almost forget," Rachel said, "I made All-State Orchestra."

"You did?"

"Yes. The letter was waiting for me when I got home. Stacey Green made it, too. We're going to be really busy with rehearsals. ln April there's a concert. You'll come, won't you?"

"Sure."

"Well. . . I'm glad you had a good weekend."

"Yeah. See you tomorrow."

An hour later Alison called. "Hi. . . I'm home."

"How was your Thanksgiving?" I asked. "Leon and Sadie had a fight." "How could anybody fight with Sadie?" "She says Leon's the only one who ever does." "I thought he's so proud of her." "Yeah, but see . . . Sadie's friends are always dropping off manuscripts for Leon to read. They all know somebody who's trying to write. But Leon can't stand to look at other people's work. So he tells Sadie, If I wanted to do that I'd be a teacher instead of a writer. So then Sadie says, What will I tell my friends? So then Leon says, Tell them your son is a se~/ish man who guards his free time. So then Sadie says, My friends will be very disappointed.

So then Leon blows up and tells Sadie she has no understanding of his work. Then he slams out of the house, Sadie winds up in tears and Mom locks herself in the bedroom and won't come out. It was all very depressing."

"Was this before Thanksgiving dinner or after?"

"After. Sadie didn't show him the manuscripts until Friday night."

"That was smart. So did they finally make up or what?"

"Yes, but not until Saturday morning." She paused. "So how was your weekend?"

"Great!"

"Well, I'm glad somebody had a great time."

Later, as I came out of the bathroom on my way to bed, Bruce called to me from his room. "What?" I asked, standing in his doorway.

He was sitting up in bed with the atlas in his lap. "Dad says I should pretend he's on a business trip. He says it's just a trial separation."

I walked over and sat on the edge of his bed. The atlas was opened to a map of California. "Did he tell you what that means?"

"It means they live apart and think things over."

"Did he tell you anything else?"

"No . . . except we're going to L.A. over Christmas. Would you rather go to Marineland, Disneyland or Universal Pictures?"

"I may not go at all," I said.

"Then I'm not going either." He closed the atlas, looking very sad.

"We don't have to decide yet," I said, in my most cheerful voice. "And I think pretending he's on a business trip is a good idea. I think we should both do that. . . because before you know it, they'll probably be back together. I'll bet they're back together by my birthday." I could see that made Bruce feel better so I kept going. "You know Miri Levine. . . this girl in my class? Well, her parents got divorced when we were in fourth grade and when we were in sixth. . . they got married again . . . to each other."

"Really?" Bruce asked.

"Yes. So let's not say anything to our friends about this separation or we'll just have to explain all over again when they get back together."

"You don't think they'll get divorced?" Bruce asked.

"No! Who's talking about divorce?"

"I think I'll go to sleep now," Bruce said. "Tell Mom I'm ready for my kiss, okay?" He snuggled down under his quilt.

"Good night," I said.

As I was leaving he called, "Steph.. ."

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't that much fun in New York without you."

"I'm not surprised." 1 danced out of his room singing, "Feed me, Seymour. . . feed me."

I got into bed feeling a lot better. It's funny how when you try to help somebody else feel better you wind up feeling better yourself.

24.

Peter Klaff.

At school everything was the same, except that Jeremy Dragon was wearing a winter jacket. On Monday morning we had a fire drill before first period. On the way back to homeroom Peter Klaff told me he'd had two warts removed from his middle finger over the holiday weekend.

"Did your mother do it?" I asked.

"Yeah.. . with dry ice," Peter said. "It burned." He held his finger up to my face. "You see that

right there. . . that's where they were."

Peter Kiaff had never stood so close to me. I pretended to be really interested in the black marks on the back of his finger. I even touched them, just to show how interested I was. Peter is growing. He comes up past my eyes now. "It~

must be weird having your mother for your doctor."

As soon as I said that I got a mental picture of the Kiaff family sitting around their dinner table. I could hear Dr. Klaff saying, Stephanie Hirsch was in for her yearly check-up today. Her breasts are beginning to develop.

It's about time, Peter would say, between mouthfuls.

She's probably going to get her period soon, Dr. Klaff would say, helping herself to more linguini.

I'm glad you mentioned that, Mom, Peter would say. From now on I'll keep a look-out for anything red on the back of her pants.

That's very though~ul of you, Peter, Dr. Kiaff would say. So many boys your age act foolish about menstruation. Here, have some more bread.

I must have had a strange expression on my face because Peter said, "What?"

"Nothing. . ." I said. "I was just wondering if your mother talks about her patients at home

like when you're sitting around the dinner table?"

"Nah . . . she talks about the Mets. She's a baseball fanatic."

"What about when baseball season's over . . like now?"

"Movies," Peter said. "She's a movie fanatic, too."

"Oh. . ." I felt relieved. "I thought maybe she talks about diseases and stuff like that."

"Hardly ever," Peter said.

This was definitely the longest conversation we'd ever had. And I didn't want it to end yet. So I said, "Do you use apple shampoo?"

"Yeah. . . how did you know?"

"I can smell it," I said. "It smells nice."

He came even closer to me, stood on tiptoe, and sniffed my hair. "Yours smells nice, too. Like

"Almonds," I told him.

"Yeah. . . like almonds."

The next morning, when I got to homeroom, I found a small plastic bottle on my desk. On the side there was a picture of an apple. I opened it and sniffed what was inside. Apple shampoo! I looked over at Peter Klaff. We smiled at each other and I put the bottle in my bag. This was the first gift I'd ever had from a boy. I was glad Alison was busy talking to Miri Levine and that neither one of them had noticed the private look Peter and I shared.

The following morning Mrs. Remo was late getting to homeroom. While we were waiting to see if we'd have a substitute, Eric Macaulay told us a gross joke. Alison threw her shoe at him and said, "That is the sleaziest joke I've ever heard!"

Just as her shoe hit Eric's head Mrs. Remo came into the room.

"Really!" Mrs. Remo said. "This is not the kind of behavior I expect from my homeroom when I'm late. Alison and Stephanie . . . you can both report to me after school this afternoon."

I was shocked. First of all, I hadn't been doing anything wrong. Second of all, I'd never seen Mrs. Remo in such a bad mood.

We told ~Rache1 about it at lunch. She couldn't believe it either. "Just because you threw your shoe at him?" she asked Alison.

"Yes," Alison said.

Then 1 said, "And when Alison tried to explain that I didn't have anything to do with it, Mrs. Remo said, Maybe next time you'll think before you act. Now what does that have to do with anything?" 1 asked Rachel. "I mean, does that make any sense to you?"

"No," Rachel said.

"She's been acting that way since we came back from Thanksgiving," Alison said.

"Maybe she didn't have a good holiday," Rachel suggested.

"Probably plenty of people didn't have a good holiday," Alison said.

I didn't say anything. I just unwrapped my lunch and started to eat.

On Thursday night I was in the pantry with the phone, talking to Alison and finishing off a bag of oatmeal cookies. As soon as I hung up, the phone rang again. I picked it up, expecting Rachel or maybe Alison, who sometimes forgets to tell me something and has to call back. But it was Peter Klaff. He asked for our math assignment. I gave it to him. Then he said, "Thank you very much," and he hung up.

I couldn't believe it. Peter Klaff calling me! How come he didn't ask his sister, Kara, for the assignment? She's also in our math class. There must have been more to his call than math.

Later, Dad called, but I refused to speak to him. "Tell him I'm in the shower," I said to Bruce.

Before I went to sleep I did take a shower. And I washed my hair with Peter Klaff's apple shampoo. When I got into bed I looked up at Benjamin Moore. Peter's not a hunk, like Benjamin. And he's not as sexy as Jeremy Dragon. But for a seventh grade boy, he's okay. I think I might decide to like him.

25.

The

Sharing Season.

The symphonic band is playing for the Christmas-Hanukkah show. It's an original musical called The Sharing Season, about a modern couple named Mary and Joe who come from different religious backgrounds. They want their kids to understand and respect both holidays so they take turns telling them about Christmas and Hanukkah.

Dana Carpenter is playing Mary and Jeremy Dragon is playing Joe so I'm very glad I'm in symphonic band. On the first day of rehearsals I couldn't take my eyes off Jeremy. That's why I missed my cue and Ms. Lopez had to stop the symphonic band. "We should have had a drum

roll there," she said. "Let's try to stay awake on the snare drum, please." I was so embarrassed!

After a week of rehearsals Dana and Jeremy started acting as if they really were Mary and Joe. Instead of hanging out in the back of the school bus with his friends, Jeremy sat up front with Dana now. And in the halls at school they held hands and looked at each other like sick dogs. I wondered if she knew he had hairy legs.

I was so busy at school I didn't have time to think about my parents. But sometimes, when I least expected it, I'd get a gnawing pain in my stomach or my leg would start twitching. That's what happened in the locker room today, while we were getting changed for gym. I sat down on the bench and rubbed my leg.

"What's wrong?" Rachel asked.

"Nothing."

Rachel stepped into her gym shorts and tucked her shirt inside. "Maybe you're getting your period."

"What does my leg have to do with getting my period?"

Alison didn't wait for Rachel to answer. "How come you never tell me I'm getting my period?" she asked Rachel.

"Steph is more developed than you," Rachel said.

     
"I've been eating a lot of bananas," Alison

said.

"Bananas?" Rachel repeated.

"I heard bananas put weight on you fast," Alison said. "And if I gain weight maybe I'll grow on top. . . and if I grow on top. .

"How old was your mother when she got it?" Rachel asked.

"Gena was twelve," Alison said.

"Because these things are basically inherited," Rachel continued.

"Oh. . ." Alison said. "I have no idea how old my biological mother was."

"But she must have had it by the time she was fifteen," I told Alison, "because that's when she had you. . . right?"

Alison nodded.

I stood up. My leg had stopped twitching. "I still think you're getting your period," Rachel said.

"I promise when I do you'll be the first to know."

"What about me?" Alison asked. "You'll be the first two to know. . . okay?" "Okay," they both said.

On Saturday afternoon the three of us were at Rachel's, discussing Dana and Jeremy.

"It's obvious they're in love," Alison said.

"If he has to be in love with a ninth grade girl I'm glad it's Dana," I said.

"Me too," Rachel added. "At least she's smart."

"Yes, but I wish she'd stop humming under her breath at the bus stop." I stretched out on the floor with a bag of potato chips.

"No crumbs, please," Rachel said.

"You're so fusty!" I learned that word from her.

"I think you mean fussy," Rachel said, "because fusty means either musty or old-fashioned."

"Then you're fussy," I said, shoveling the chips into my mouth.

"Better to be fussy than slovenly," Rachel said.

"I'm not exactly slovenly," I said. "I'm just not as perfect as you."

"I'm not perfect," Rachel said. "I'm just organized."

"I wouldn't mind being half as organized," Alison said. She circled the room, running her hand over the row of framed pictures on Rachel's dresser, the tray of miniature perfume bottles, the collection of painted jars and boxes.

Sometimes, when Alison is at Rachel's she'll stare at the clothes in her closet, admiring the way everything faces the same direction. "I'll bet you never have trouble finding anything," she'll say.

"Never," Rachel will answer.

Alison ran her hand across the books on Rachel's shelves, arranged in alphabetical order by the author's last name. "Oh.. . I read this one," she said, taking down a copy of Life With Father. "It was funny."

"Yeah," I said, "but if it were written today it would probably be called L~fe Without Father." I forced a laugh at my own joke. Rachel and Alison looked at me. "I mean," I said, trying to explain, "so many fathers have to travel for their jobs."

Alison nodded. "I'm so glad Leon doesn't have to travel." She put the book back on the shelf. "Speaking of travels. . . we're going back to our house in California for Christmas."

"Really?" I said. "My father wants us to come out over Christmas, too."

"Maybe you can visit me in Malibu," Alison said.

"You're both going to be gone over Christmas?" Rachel asked. "You're both deserting me?"

"Stacey Green will be around, won't she?" I asked.

"I don't know," Rachel said. "She's not the same kind of friend as you. She's a music friend, that's all."

"But she slept over last weekend, didn't she?" I asked.

"Yes, because we had rehearsals for All-State."

"It's just for two weeks," Alison told her.

"Two weeks!" Rachel cried. "Did you know that Christmas vacation is the time when more people get seriously depressed than any other time of the year? And it's because they have no one special to share their holidays!" Her voice broke.

No one spoke for a minute, then Alison said, "I'm going to ask my mom if you can come to Malibu with us."

"I couldn't possibly leave my family at holiday time," Rachel told her. "They need me." Then she made a small noise, almost like a yelp, and ran out of the room, hands over her face. We heard the door to the bathroom close and lock. Then we heard Rachel crying.

Alison and I looked at each other. "She's very sensitive, isn't she?"

"Yes. . . and it was really nice of you to invite her," I said.

"Even so . . . I feel bad. I shouldn't have said anything about you visiting me in Malibu."

"She'll be okay."

"I hope so."

Mom isn't coming to L.A. with Bruce and me. She's going to Venice, Italy. She says it will be hard to be away from us but she's always wanted

to see Venice and this is the perfect opportunity because a group of travel agents are going together. She seems excited about her trip, a lot more excited than I am about mine.

I haven't talked to Dad on the phone since Thanksgiving. I get tense when he calls. I always ask Bruce to make excuses for me. But when the phone rang on Sunday night I answered without thinking and it was him.

"You've certainly been busy lately," he said.

"Yes." My palms were sweaty. I reminded myself that this was my father. There was no reason to panic just because he was on the other end of the phone.

"How's the weather?" he asked.

"Sunny but very cold."

"What are you doing in school?"

"Rehearsing for the holiday show. Too bad you won't be here to see it."

"I wish I could be."

"I'll bet."

"Stephanie. . ."

"I really have to go now," I told him. "I'll get Bruce."

Mom came to my room later. I was lying on my bed, staring up at Benjamin Moore. "I overheard part of your conversation with Dad," she said, "and I think I should set the record straight.

You're blaming him for something that's not entirely his fault."

"I thought you said it was all his idea."

"Going to California.. . yes. But I wanted this separation, too. I just wasn't willing to initiate it. Dad forced it out into the open. Probably, in the long run, that's good."

"I'm glad you both like the idea so much!"

The next night, when Mom came home from work, she dropped a bag on my bed. "I was passing the sports store and they were having a special on Speedo bathing suits. I thought you might need one for L.A."

I think Mom's noticed that I've gained weight. I've been using a safety pin to hold my jeans together and wearing big shirts over them to hide the evidence. My gym shorts are getting tight but they have an elastic waistband so I can still squeeze into them.

I tried on the bathing suit. It was blue, with a diagonal white stripe. I looked terrible in it. I looked fat.

The Sharing Season was a big success. Mom and Bruce came to the evening performance and after it, Rachel and Alison came back to our house. It was our last chance to exchange holiday

presents before vacation began. Our gifts to each other all turned out to be purple. We hadn't planned it that way. It just happened. I guess it's because purple is our favorite color,

I gave Alison and Rachel sets of barrettes, hand-painted with little purple flowers. Rachel gave us each purple T-shirts that said FRIENDS and Alison gave us purple leather picture frames. Inside was a photo of the three of us, plus Maizie, Burt and Harry. Leon had taken the picture right before Thanksgiving. We'd had to carry Burt and Harry to Alison's in their cage, the one the Robinsons use to take them to the vet. In the picture we're sitting on Alison's bed, laughing our heads off. Alison is holding Maizie, Rachel is holding Burt and I'm holding Harry, who is trying to escape. It's a great picture.

But when Rachel looked at it she started to cry. "I'm going to die of loneliness without the two of you!" That got Alison started and a minute later, I was in tears, too.

Finally Mom came to my room and asked if everything was all right. We explained that it was and Mom asked if we'd like a pizza. Of course we said "Yes."

While we were waiting I taught Rachel and Alison a song I'd learned at camp. It's called Side by Side. The part I like best goes:

Through all kinds of weather

What if the sky should fall

Just as long as we're together

It doesn't matter at all

We sang it about twenty times, until we were laughing so hard we had to stop.

26.

Iris.

Dear Rachel,

Well, here I am in sunny California! It's so weird here! It smells like summer but there are Christmas decorations everywhere. You can sit on the deck of Dad's apartment and watch the volleyball games on the beach. And there's a marina with hundreds of boats just a block away. Bruce likes to hang out there with his new friend, Shirley.. Shirley is visiting her father, who's divorced. She's ten, same as Bruce. I'm glad Bruce has found a friend here because now I am free to do whatever I want and there's just so much to do...

I went on for three pages in my letter to Rachel but I didn't tell her the real truth except for the