Life as We Knew It (11 page)

Just hearing Dad say all that and smelling bread in the kitchen made me feel a lot more optimistic.

Mom was so proud when the loaves came out of the oven. They were golden brown and tasted much better than store-bought bread. Matt biked over to Mrs. Nesbitt's and to Peter's office and gave them their goodies.

We had peanut butter and jelly on fresh baked bread for supper tonight. Open-faced sandwiches because we sliced the bread so thick.

Mom says if we keep eating like this we'll end up fat and malnourished, but I don't care. It was wonderful.

Then, because when good things happen they just keep on happening, we had electricity and it came on at 7

PM, a time when we could actually use it. And it stayed on for 3 whole hours.

Mom did three loads of laundry and got two of them dry. I vacuumed the whole house. We ran all the dishes through the dishwasher. We ran the central air and cooled the house off. Just for the hell of it, Matt toasted a slice of bread and we all nibbled on it. I'd forgotten how great toast is: crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside.

A couple of days ago, Matt had gone into the attic and brought down a real old black-and-white TV set with a built-in antenna. Mom says the antennas were called rabbit ears, which I think is pretty silly.

With the electricity on, we turned on the TV set, and got two stations. We can't get any TV reception on our other sets—our cable reception is completely gone.

Just seeing a picture on TV was exciting. One station was religious. The other station showed reruns of Seinfeld and Friends. Guess which station we watched!

Watching sitcoms was like eating toast. Two months ago, it was so much a part of my life I didn't even notice it. But now it feels like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy and the Wizard of Oz all rolled into one.

We have clean sheets to sleep on, a clean house, clean clothes, clean dishes. We spent the evening laughing.

It wasn't 90 degrees in the house when we went to bed. We aren't hungry. We're not worried about Dad. I know what it feels like to be kissed by a boy.

If I could, I would relive this day over and over. I can't imagine a more perfect one.

June 24

I'm so angry at Mom I could scream. And it doesn't help that she's as mad at me as I am at her.

The day started out great, too. The sun was shining, perfect swimming weather. There was enough bread left for each of us to have a slice for breakfast. Mom brought in a few strawberries from the garden, and we each had two.

I went to the pond and I didn't even mind that Karen and Emily were there. We swam, we raced, we had fun.

I guess they've figured out something's going on with Dan and me, because when we got out of the pond, they made themselves scarce. Dan and I took our walk in the woods. When we're together like that, I feel as though everything is going to work out. I like to think I help him feel that way, also.

Dan walked me home and we ran into Mom in the drive-way. "I'm off to get gas," she said. "Dan, would you like a lift into town?"

Dan said yes, and I asked if I could go, too. Mom said sure. We'd be picking up Mrs. Nesbitt, also. She wanted to go to the library.

There are two gas stations in town that still have gas. The way it works is you get in line and then you prepay. It's $12 a gallon, or $35 for 3 gallons, exact change only, and a maximum of 3 gallons. It usually takes about an hour to get the gas, and then you drive to the other gas station and get 3 gallons there. Then if you have the time and the money, you go back to the first gas station and start all over again.

So while Mom is waiting in line, there's plenty of time to go to the library or do anything else you want to do. A lot of times Mom drops Matt and Jonny off at the park, and they find a pickup game of baseball, while Mom does the gas lines. But since we were all sure it was going to rain, they decided to skip the trip, so there was room for Mrs. Nesbitt and Dan and me.

Mom got into the gas line, and Mrs. Nesbitt, Dan, and I walked over to the library. There's very little that's still open in town, so the library has gotten real popular. Of course it's not the same way it used to be, either. With no electricity, things are pretty dark, and they can't scan the books, so you're on an honor system. Four books to a customer, and they trust you to return them as soon as you can.

We have lots of books at home, but Mom's been urging Matt and Jonny and me to use the library as much as possible. I guess she's afraid it won't stay open that much longer.

We all found books to take out. I put Mrs. Nesbitt's and my books in my book bag. Dan and I kissed in the stacks, and then when we left the library, he started walking toward his home and Mrs. Nesbitt and I started back to the gas station to keep Mom company while she waited.

Only, as we were walking, we saw a long line in the elementary school playground. There were maybe 50

people in the line, and we noticed a couple of state troopers standing around, making sure people stayed in place.

I ran over to see what was going on. "They're giving away food," a man told me. "One bag per household."

I waved Mrs. Nesbitt over and got her a place in the line. "I'm going to get Dan," I told her. "We'll meet you back here."

So I ran, and I do mean ran, toward Dan's home. It didn't take me long to find him and explain what was going on. We both ran back to the playground. By the time we got there, Mrs. Nesbitt was about 20 people ahead of us. I knew we couldn't just cut in line and join her, but we yelled so she knew we were there.

It wasn't bad in the line, maybe because the troopers saw to it that we behaved ourselves. Any kids who might have been whining played with the slides and swings instead and it was fun watching them have a good time. We were all excited about getting food, even if we didn't know what exactly to expect. It kind of felt like Christmas shopping.

Every now and again one of the troopers would explain the rules to us. One bag per household. All the bags were identical. Make any trouble and no bag. No cost but a thank-you would be appreciated.

Even when it began to rain, we didn't mind. It was a gentle summertime kind of rain, and since it's so humid, we hoped that the rain would clear things up and the weather would turn nice again.

Dan and I held hands and giggled and enjoyed being together. We edged forward and we cheered when Mrs. Nesbitt finally got into the school. We cheered again when she emerged carrying a bag.

We finally got in ourselves. There were other troopers in the school, clearly guarding the bags. It was scary seeing them with real guns.

But everyone was very well behaved. When you got to the front of the line, you had to show an ID that had your address on it. Luckily, Dan and I both had our library cards with us. We were each handed a plastic bag, and told to leave, which we did. When we walked out, we saw the troopers were telling people not to get in line; the supplies were running out.

We found Mrs. Nesbitt standing just outside the playground. "There's rice," she said. "And beans and all kinds of goodies."

I was so excited that I flat-out kissed Dan right in front of Mrs. Nesbitt. Not that she seemed shocked. Dan gave me a hug and said good-bye. "My mom is going to be so happy," he said, which pretty much summed it up.

"Maybe there'll be more," I said. "Maybe this is the start of better times."

"Let's hope so," he said. He gave me one more kiss and then he started back to his house.

I took Mrs. Nesbitt's bag and we began walking back to the gas station. I couldn't get over how excited Mom was going to be when she saw I was bringing food.

It was about a half-mile walk to the gas station, and the gentle rain had become heavy with distant thunderstorms. I told Mrs. Nesbitt I wished I had an umbrella for her, but she just laughed.

"I won't melt," she said.

When we got to the gas station, we couldn't find Mom's car, which meant she was already on her way to the second gas station. That added another five blocks to the walk, and Mrs. Nesbitt and I were drenched by the time we finally found her, but it didn't matter. Rice and beans and powdered milk and salt and boxed soup mix and dehydrated vegetables and corn flakes and lime Jell-O.

Mom only had a ten-car wait by the time we got there. I was so wet anyway, I volunteered to get out and pay, which I did. It feels so funny to go into the convenience store and see completely empty shelves and signs saying, cashier is ARMED AND TRAINED TO SHOOT.

I guess Mrs. Nesbitt told Mom all about the food and the line while I was paying for the gas. All I know is Mom was in a great mood before I left the car, and she was very quiet by the time I got back in.

I don't know if Mom felt 6 gallons was enough for one day or if she wanted to get Mrs. Nesbitt home because she was so wet, but we drove straight back and dropped Mrs. Nesbitt off. Any effort Mom might have made to seem social while Mrs. Nesbitt was still in the car ended as soon as it was just the two of us.

"What?" I said when we were finally alone. "What did I do this time?"

"We'll discuss it inside," she said. Her teeth were so clenched she could have been a ventriloquist.

We walked into the kitchen and I flung the book bag and the grocery bag on the table. "I thought you'd be happy," I said. "We have all this food now. What did I do wrong?"

"Sometimes I just don't understand you," she said, like I was the mystery creature. "You saw everyone standing in line, and what did you do?"

"I got in the line," I said. "Wasn't that what I was supposed to do?"

"You left Mrs. Nesbitt and went to get Dan," Mom said. "That seems to be the part you're forgetting."

"Right," I said. "I ran to get Dan and then we got right in the line."

"And what if they'd run out of food by the time you got back?" Mom asked. "What would have happened then?"

"Then we wouldn't have gotten all this great stuff," I said. "Rice and beans and lime Jell-O. I didn't know they were going to run out of food so soon. Besides, what difference does it make? They didn't run out of the food and he got food to take home and so did I and so did Mrs. Nesbitt. I don't see what you're so mad about."

"How often do I have to explain this to you?" Mom asked. "Family is all that matters. Dan has to worry about his family and you have to worry about yours. And before you even begin to say something about Peter, he's brought us food every time he's come here and the least I could do is give him some bread in return."

I would have brought up Peter, too, if she hadn't. Even I knew better than to say Mrs. Nesbitt wasn't family.

"There was enough for all of us," I said.

"Pure luck," Mom said. "I will not have Jonny or Matt or you starve because you want to include a friend.

This isn't the time for friendships, Miranda. We have to watch out only for ourselves."

"That's not how you brought us up," I said. "Whatever happened to share and share alike?"

"Sharing is a luxury," she said. "We can't afford luxuries right now."

For a moment, Mom seemed terribly sad instead of angry. I saw an expression in her eyes I remembered from when she and Dad split up.

"You think we're going to die," I said.

Any sadness immediately evaporated and rage took its place. "Don't you ever say that to me again!" she yelled. "None of us is going to die. I will not allow that to happen."

I actually reached out to comfort her. "It's okay, Mom," I said. "I know you're doing everything you can for us. But Dan and I have something wonderful. Like you and Peter. Something special. Otherwise I never would have told him about the food."

But Mom was anything but comforted. There was a look on her face, a look of horror, almost like the way she looked that first night. "Are you sleeping with him?" she asked. "Are you lovers?"

"Mom!" I said.

"Because if you are, you'd better never see him again," she said. "I'll forbid you to go to the pond. I won't let you leave this house alone again. Do you understand me? I can't let you risk getting pregnant." She grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to an inch of her face. "Do you understand that!"

"I understand!" I yelled right back into her face. "I understand that you don't trust me."

"If I don't trust you, I certainly don't trust Dan," she said. "The two of you cannot be left alone. I forbid it."

"Just try to forbid it!" I screamed. "I love Dan and he loves me and nothing you say or do is going to stop us."

"Go to your room now!" Mom said. "And don't think about coming out until I tell you to. NOW!"

I didn't need any encouragement. I raced to my room and slammed the door as loud as I could. And then I cried. Big howling sobs.

I'm not Sammi. I'm not an idiot. Sure, I'd love to make love with Dan. I'd love to make love with someone before this whole stupid world ends. But even though I told Mom that Dan and I love each other, I know we don't. Not the kind of love that I want to feel for the first man I make love with.

Half the time I can't even figure out what Dan is feeling. I would have thought he'd try to go further with me, but he hasn't. We kiss, we hug, that's it.

And there's Mom acting like we're animals in heat.

It's so unfair. I haven't seen Sammi or Megan since school ended. Dan's practically the only friend I have left in the world. Even if we aren't lovers, even if we aren't boyfriend and girl-friend, he's still the only person I see who isn't family or Peter. I laugh with him. I talk to him. I care about him. And Mom makes it sound like that's something bad, like I can't have friends anymore, like family is the only thing that matters from now on.

If that's how the world is supposed to be, I hope it does end soon.

I hate Mom for making me feel this way. I hate Mom for making me feel that for every good day, there have to be 10 or 20 or 100 bad ones.

I hate Mom for not trusting me. I hate Mom for making me even more scared.

I hate Mom for making me hate her.

I hate her.

June 25

Except for going to the bathroom (and I only did that when I thought no one would see me), I stayed in my room all yesterday. I kept the door shut, and in a fit of rebellion even I realized was dumb, I read by flashlight for four hours.