Last Summer (23 page)
Authors: Holly Chamberlin
“What do you mean?” Meg asked.
“Like, the bully husband hits his wife and then says, ‘See what you made me do? You made me hit you.’ Then he apologizes, but of course he doesn’t mean it. And then he hits her again.”
Rosie shook her head. “That’s just awful.”
“You’re never happy,” Stella went on. “It’s like, you know something bad could always happen, so you learn not to trust things when they seem okay. Because deep down you know that they’re not okay, ever.”
“It sounds terrible,” Meg said with a shudder.
“It is. I think it’s worse for Jill and even for Courtney than it was for me. They seem to really need Mackenzie. I only thought I did.”
“Aren’t you afraid that Mackenzie’s going to do something bad to you,” Rosie asked, “now that you’re not hanging out with her anymore?”
Stella shrugged. “A little bit, I guess. But if she even looks at me weird I’m telling my parents and anyone else who will listen. I am so over all that craziness. I feel like that wasn’t even me all those months. It’s like I became someone else.”
“Speaking of becoming someone else,” Meg said with a smile, “what made you get such a radical haircut? I mean, it looks great, but it’s so totally different from what you had before.”
Stella put a hand to her short hair. “I know. My mother was kind of freaked when I told her this is what I wanted. But I was tired of long hair and I just wanted a big change, in all sorts of ways. This is like a symbol of starting over for me.”
“It looks really good,” Rosie said. “It suits you.”
“Thanks. My dad says the clothes make me look like a hippie. But I like it. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of hippies and I think they look cool.” Stella looked at her watch. “Well, I should be going. I’m just here to pick up some candy for my mom.” Stella pointed in the direction of Perkins Cove Candies. “She has a major sweet tooth and she really loves the gummies they sell there.”
She waved and walked on in the direction of the candy shop.
Meg raised her eyebrows. “Wow,” she said. “That was ... weird.”
“Do you believe her?” Rosie asked. “That she’s sorry. Do you believe that she’s not friends with Mackenzie Egan anymore?”
Meg thought about her answer for a moment. “Yeah,” she said finally. “I do. Do you?”
“Yes,” Rosie said. “I do, too.”
38
J
ane sat with her back ramrod straight and her hands at ten and two, just like she had been taught all those years ago in driver’s education. The girls were in the backseat, sharing observations about what they were passing (cute guys behind the wheel of a car was a favorite) and occasionally laughing at some inside joke or an amusing bumper sticker. At times the giggling was shrill.
ane sat with her back ramrod straight and her hands at ten and two, just like she had been taught all those years ago in driver’s education. The girls were in the backseat, sharing observations about what they were passing (cute guys behind the wheel of a car was a favorite) and occasionally laughing at some inside joke or an amusing bumper sticker. At times the giggling was shrill.
At least, Jane thought, they weren’t each plugged into some electronic device, ignoring each other. She would never understand how two people could sit side by side and each be completely occupied with someone or something else on a screen. Why not just stay home alone? She could probably blame her age on the puzzlement this caused her, but she had a strong feeling that even if she were much younger, she would not be one of those super-plugged-in people. Clearly, though Rosie was computer savvy, she had no interest in spending a good part of the day with something stuck into her ear. Meg, on the other hand, was dying for an iPhone.
Good luck with that,
Jane thought. As far as she knew, Frannie still hadn’t gotten Meg a regular, basic phone, which, in Jane’s opinion, made no sense at all. It was a safety issue, pure and simple. Not that she could argue the issue with Frannie, but maybe Mike could say something to her. She would talk to him about it that evening.
Good luck with that,
Jane thought. As far as she knew, Frannie still hadn’t gotten Meg a regular, basic phone, which, in Jane’s opinion, made no sense at all. It was a safety issue, pure and simple. Not that she could argue the issue with Frannie, but maybe Mike could say something to her. She would talk to him about it that evening.
Traffic along this stretch of Route 1 was light at this time of the morning. Jane was glad. Not that it gave her an excuse to let her mind wander, but at least she didn’t have to be as tense as she was when traffic was heavy or when she was forced to drive alongside a massive truck or trailer. She hoped that when Rosie got her license, which wouldn’t be long now, she wasn’t as fearful behind the wheel as her mother.
Time would tell,
Jane thought, glancing in the rearview mirror at her daughter.
Time would tell,
Jane thought, glancing in the rearview mirror at her daughter.
Rosie had told her about meeting Stella Charron in the cove. Jane had heard something about the Charrons’ younger daughter being ill. She was glad to learn that the little girl was doing well. And if Stella Charron was being honest with Rosie and Meg, and the girls thought that she was, then she was indeed a brave young woman for apologizing for her part in the bullying.
A car sped by in the left lane and Jane’s hands on the steering wheel tensed. Yes, she thought, courage wasn’t her strong suit. Case in point—she still hadn’t told Mike about her encounter with Frannie on Main Street. She thought that she might never tell him. She was too ashamed, and she was pretty sure Mike would be angry with her for having betrayed Rosie’s personal business. She wasn’t afraid of Mike’s anger—he would never hit her or even raise his voice at her—but she was desperately in need of his good opinion and approval. Sometimes, in the middle of a sleepless night, she would lie awake wondering if someday he would realize how disappointing a person she was and decide to leave her.
Well, she thought, hopefully this outing would in some cosmic way make up for her poor judgment in her encounter with Frannie. And hopefully, she had learned a bit of a lesson from Stella’s bravery. She had definitely learned a lesson from a six-year-old boy. Petey had come by after camp the other day with a bouquet of Queen Anne’s lace (and some weeds) plucked from the side of the road.
“My mom says you’re very busy,” he said when Jane opened the door to his timid knock. “I know I’m not supposed to bother you, but I wanted to give you these. I know you really like flowers.”
The tears had sprung to Jane’s eyes as she reached out to accept the little bouquet.
God,
she thought,
he could be the son I never had.
God,
she thought,
he could be the son I never had.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry!” Petey said, alarmed.
“Oh, these are happy tears,” Jane assured him, smiling and wiping her cheeks. “Thank you, Petey. Does your mom know you’re here?”
“No. She’s still at work. Meg’s on the computer. I just came over.”
How alone he is,
Jane had thought. She had ushered him in for a snack, and before too many minutes had passed he was munching an oatmeal cookie and chattering on happily about day camp and how they had gone swimming at the Y and how they were putting on a puppet show next week. He was excited because he would be operating a marionette in the shape of a cat. Petey liked all animals. Once Jane had caught him offering a peanut to a squirrel in their backyard. He said he thought it looked hungry.
Jane had thought. She had ushered him in for a snack, and before too many minutes had passed he was munching an oatmeal cookie and chattering on happily about day camp and how they had gone swimming at the Y and how they were putting on a puppet show next week. He was excited because he would be operating a marionette in the shape of a cat. Petey liked all animals. Once Jane had caught him offering a peanut to a squirrel in their backyard. He said he thought it looked hungry.
She had felt so happy sitting at the kitchen table with Petey. It was such a simple but such an important happiness. How, she wondered, could she have chosen resentment over love, especially where a child was concerned? She had no good answer for that. There was no good answer.
After a while Jane had walked Petey home. Meg was horrified to realize that he had left the house without telling her. She had also seemed very embarrassed and had apologized profusely to Jane.
“I hope he didn’t bother you,” she said, when Petey had gone inside and up to his room.
Jane, too, had felt awkward and embarrassed. “Not at all,” she assured Meg. “It was a pleasure to see him. I hope the cookies I gave him don’t spoil his appetite for dinner.”
Meg had smiled. “Oh, I don’t think that will be a problem. Thanks again.”
And they had parted. It had been on the tip of Jane’s tongue to say, “Tell your mom I said hi,” but she had caught herself just in time. First, she wasn’t sure that Meg would want her mother to know that Petey had gone over to the Pattersons’ and that Jane had brought him home. And second, Jane wasn’t sure Frannie would want to accept a greeting from her. Best just to leave everything the way it was for the moment.
But things had changed thanks to Petey’s unexpected visit and Jane’s brief exchange with his sister. Unwittingly, Petey had created an opportunity for Jane to take her courage (such as it was) and her maturity in hand. That evening, via Mike, who had gone over to the Giroux house to see if he could fix their printer, she offered to take the girls to Old Orchard Beach for the day. Reluctantly or not, Mike hadn’t said, Frannie had given her consent.
“Okay, girls,” Jane said now, turning on to Old Orchard Road. “We’re here.” She parked the car in a small lot across the street from the Palace Playland. With exclamations of “Awesome!” and “Psych!” Rosie and Meg clambered out of the car. Jane followed with less enthusiasm.
Palace Playland was a major attraction for locals as well as for families on vacation. It was New England’s only beachfront amusement park, which gave it some cachet. While the girls were well past spending time on the rides in Kiddie Land, they could choose from the “family rides” like the inevitable bumper cars and the Wave Swinger and the carousel or the classic Ferris wheel. Or, and this would be Meg’s preference, they could go on the “thrill rides” like the Galaxi Coaster, the Pirate, or the Power Surge. Jane’s preference would be that they stick to playing safe games like the roulette-style Spin-N-Win, but she wasn’t naïve enough to think that was going to happen.
Not far from the amusement park, the Pier jutted out five hundred feet over the ocean. It was lined with overstuffed shops selling a variety of inexpensive souvenirs, including T-shirts, sunglasses, and visors. There were also five restaurants and five bars. Jane remembered that Frannie and Peter used to enjoy going to one of the bars. Jane wondered when Frannie had last been to her favorite stomping ground and figured that it probably wasn’t since Peter’s dismissal. She had certainly known better than to ask Jane to join her! Jane didn’t like hanging out in bars.
The beach was wall-to-wall people for what looked like its entire seven miles, as was the water for what looked like seven miles out. No one could actually swim, though plenty of people seemed to be having fun just bobbing and splashing around. Jane shuddered. Looking at the mass of bodies crammed together made her think about germs and fungal infections and kids peeing on each other’s feet.
The hordes of skimpily dressed teenaged girls annoyed her, too. Tight skirts that were indecently short, short shorts that looked more like underwear, tank tops that exposed more skin than they covered. Jane couldn’t help but feel the girls were demeaning themselves without knowing it and that the boys, with their baggy shorts worn down almost below their butts, were taking full advantage of the girls’ pathetic need to please them. She would never allow her own daughter to dress that way. Never.
But I’m lucky,
Jane thought.
Rosie isn’t that kind of girl. She has no need to flaunt herself. She knows better.
But I’m lucky,
Jane thought.
Rosie isn’t that kind of girl. She has no need to flaunt herself. She knows better.
Like she knew better than to keep the bullying a secret. Like she knew better than to take a razor blade to her arm. Jane swallowed hard. You could never tell what might happen in life. Never. She wasn’t superstitious, but still, there was no point in tempting fate by being absurdly sure of your own good luck. After all, look what had happened to Rosie this past school year. Never in a million years would Jane have imagined her daughter not only the victim of bullies but also someone who engaged in self-harming. Never.
Complacency was dangerous. She would try to remember that.
Once actually inside the grounds of the Palace Playland, Jane did her best to hide her distaste. But it was difficult.
“Oh, my God,” Meg cried, pointing toward a man carrying a massive stuffed animal. “Look at that giant yellow monkey! I would so love to win that for Petey!”
Jane forced a smile. Frankly, she couldn’t stand anything about the place, from the giant yellow monkeys to the greasy fast food. She knew she was being a snob and a prude and maybe overly fastidious, but there it was. Meg loved everything about Old Orchard Beach, especially the scarier rides in Palace Playland (she had always been a bit of a daredevil), and Rosie liked what she called the pageantry of it all (she said it reminded her of what a medieval fair might have been like, without the bear baiting, of course, old people and young people having fun together). So Jane bought each girl a hot dog and a funnel cake and a bunch of tickets for the rides, and refrained from openly criticizing the style, or lack thereof, of the majority of the crowd. Old Orchard Beach was definitely more Frannie’s scene. She was far more tolerant of—well, of people than Jane. For example, Jane thought, wincing, she would laugh at the sight of the guy over by the stand selling fried dough. He was wearing a baseball type hat with a big foam hot dog perched on top.
The girls decided to go on a ride called the Orient Express. Jane waited in a rare spot of shade, thankful for a moment alone. (As alone as anyone could be in a teeming crowd of revelers.) She spotted the girls climbing into their car (or whatever it was called) and waved. Both girls waved back and Jane smiled. She was finding that interacting with Meg was not as difficult as she had imagined it might be.
The ride began and Jane thought back to earlier visits to Palace Playland and Yorktide Memorial Park and Ogunquit Beach and York’s Wild Kingdom, all the places she and Frannie had taken the girls when they were little. Jane waved again but this time only Meg waved back. She wouldn’t be surprised if Rosie’s eyes were clamped shut.
Meg’s personality had always been big, not bossy but determined and decided. More than once when the girls were small Meg had come to Rosie’s rescue, like the time they were at the playground and that boy had tried to take Rosie’s tricycle. Rosie had stood there, tears welling in her eyes, but before Jane could rush to the rescue, Meg had walked right up to the boy, who was bigger and older than she was, and demanded he give it back. Maybe it was the shock of a smaller, younger girl standing up to him, but the boy had immediately released the bike. And then there was the time Rosie had ventured higher than she ever had on the jungle gym and suddenly, been too scared to come down. Again, before Jane could lift her to the ground, Meg had scrambled up to where Rosie stood clutching a bar and basically talked her slowly down, taking each careful step by her side.
Then what,
Jane thought now,
had made Meg turn against the friend she had loved since before she had even known what the word meant? What had changed inside Meg? What pain or misery or anger had caused her to lash out at Rosie, the person she had always protected?
Jane felt at a complete loss to understand. She wondered if even Meg understood her own motives, then or now.
Jane thought now,
had made Meg turn against the friend she had loved since before she had even known what the word meant? What had changed inside Meg? What pain or misery or anger had caused her to lash out at Rosie, the person she had always protected?
Jane felt at a complete loss to understand. She wondered if even Meg understood her own motives, then or now.
Jane spotted the girls again as the ride whipped past. She had to look away when Meg raised her hands high above her head. Rosie’s hands looked riveted to the safety bar. Over time, Jane realized, peering up again at the ride, she and Meg had become friends of a sort. Unlike Rosie, Meg had a real interest in fashion, and she definitely had an eye for style. Jane had enjoyed sharing her passion with Meg, passing along items she no longer needed or wanted, like a purse or a sweater, pointing out styles in catalogues and magazines. Vaguely now she recalled having promised to teach Meg how to sew. But she had never made good with that promise, had she? Maybe, she thought, now was the time to offer lessons. Maybe soon.
And she was surprised by that thought. The idea of finally offering to teach Meg how to sew had come to her unbidden. Maybe it was an indication that she was ready to begin the process of real forgiveness, at least where Meg was concerned.
Jane watched now as the ride came to an end and the girls came loping toward her.
“That was awesome!” Rosie exclaimed.
“Really?” Meg said. “I thought it was kind of lame. Well, not lame, exactly, but not super exciting. Not as good as the Galaxi Coaster.”
Other books
Werewolves Rule (The Rule Series) by Blake, K. C.
Following the Water by David M. Carroll
SK01 - Waist Deep by Frank Zafiro
Possession by Celia Fremlin
The Grand Alliance by Winston S. Churchill
The Mermaid's Child by Jo Baker
Fire for Effect by Kendall McKenna
A Murder of Crows by Jan Dunlap
Naughty Nanny (Wealthy Taboo Bareback Steamy Romance) by Wild, Nikki
Nancy Kress by Nothing Human
