Rusty Summer (22 page)

Anyway, I remember GramMer and Uncle Riley both kind of jumped in response and looked at each other. Because I was smart and cagey even then I knew I had accidently just said something controversial. I also knew they were about to say something controversial in return. But if they thought I could understand what they were saying they wouldn't say it. So I stared out the window and waved at my mom and dad and Baby Paul in the stroller, like a clueless lil' knucklehead. I'd already figured out that worked with Mom; if she thought I wouldn't get it or wasn't listening, she would say all kinds of complicated, interesting stuff.

“Is that what they're doing, Rylee?” GramMer asked me, sorrowfully. “Are they acting?”

She watched my tiny little ant-parents below, her face wistful. I can remember relating to her tone of voice, even though I was so young, and thinking my mom's face and voice would be like that too if I was sad.

“Yup,” is all I said, to make her keep talking. I kept my eyes on the rides across the fairgrounds and on the purple mountains' majesty. I could see snow-topped Mount Rainier peeking at me.

“Rylee?” my grandma asks me gently, “do you know what that means if someone says that?”

“Yes!” I say, emphatically. “It means they fight and pretend to not!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw them shrug like, “she got that right!” and shake their heads. I felt like they might say more if I kept staring out the window. So I did.

And they said a lot. Though they waited till they thought I was absorbed by the view again.

“Ach.” GramMer's sigh was a groan. “They both just break my heart.” She murmured it under her breath to Uncle Riley, who nodded. I knew better than to ask what she meant, because even the best grown-ups tend to bullshit little kids and I didn't want that, so I just kept listening. I also kept waving to my crew below like a maniac, like I was in another time zone and couldn't hear nothin'!

“I just wish they could both see how nice the other one is,” Uncle Riley whispered back. “It sucks to be around when they are both sniping at each other constantly. Dang!”

Even as young as I was, in my mind I was like,
Right?! You think it's hard!
You
try to live with 'em for a while, why don'tcha?!
GramMer lowered her voice even more.

“I wish she could dial down the insistence on her whole church thing. It's really too bad that it's such a deal breaker for her. I'm impressed at how seriously she takes being a good person, but wow.”

“Yeah, well, why'd he marry such a God girl, then?” Uncle Riley replied quietly. “He knew what she was like and what she believed by the time he proposed.” He shrugged when my grandma looked over at him dolefully.

“Mis—”she started to say and then caught herself, looking over at me.

I carried on faking like I couldn't see or hear them, and continued waving like an unhinged baby sea monkey as we slowly passed over them. “Hi, Paul! Can you see me?!” I couldn't be
less
uninterested over here!

“Mis-fitted,” GramMer went on, softly murmuring to Uncle Riley. “Really too bad; two wonderful people who are just goddamn terrible together. They were both so lonely when they met . . .” She sighed heavily. “I wish I could just give them a love potion.”

I remember at the time thinking that if anyone knew magic, it would be my grandma. She had sparkly amethyst eyelids and she swore and I knew that was really bad, but it was
so
exciting! If my mom was her mom GramMer would be in SO much trouble! I continued listening and looking out, drawing
X
s and
O
s in my foggy breath on the thick, blotchy window.

The gondola ride went into its scaffolding on the other side of the fairground and you could either get off and go down the spiral stairs to the carnival rides, or stay on and continue soaring over Puyallup for the trip back. We signaled to the dude that we were staying so he shoved us back like a side of beef, into the outgoing line. We curved around on a track and swung out again into the wild blue yonder. It gave me the same feeling as the ride over—so much fun it almost made me want to cry! I can remember feeling that complex emotion for the first time, and being confused that I wanted to ride in the sky so much but even so, it was still a little terrifying.

I guess I was four when I realized that sometimes getting your heart's desire is also hella scary.

My grandma sighed. “Well, gawd love 'em—and you too, Riley. Are you being real,
real
careful, all the time?”

“Yas, ma'am!” he drawled, goofing. “I stay indoors and play Ping-Pong in the AC!”

“Yeah, I wish,” grumbled my grandma. She hugged him tight as he sat beside her on the seat. “Don't forget you're my tiny baby! With giant cloth diapers! You and your brother both! Always!”

Riley laughed and I laughed too—before I remembered I wasn't supposed to be following their conversation! Dang it!

“A
ha!
I thought so!” GramMer yelped. “I thought I saw you eavesdropping!” She laughed hard and reached out to grab me and put me into her lap. She gave me a little squeeze and so did Uncle Riley.

It was the first time I ever heard the word
eavesdropping
. The sound made me visualize autumn leaves falling. I wasn't sure if she was referring to the weird, fluttery, happy-sad emotion I was feeling or the pictures I had drawn with my finger and my breath.

 

The next morning I'm lying in my bed when Leo gets a text. She fishes around for her phone and reads it. She laughs.

“What?” I ask.

“Shane! He says he's got all the parts for the deer hunter. What does that mean?”

“Ha! The van! He named it
The Deer Hunter,
like the movie! That's hilarious! Text back: ‘thanks, One Shot!'”

“What does that mean?”

“It's a line from the movie. Dude only took one shot and if he missed, that deer got to live. It's an awesome movie—about how bad war sucks. Meryl Streep and Robert De Niro, when they were hot.”

Leo texts back. In a second another message comes back:
Pretty AND witty!!!!!

She reads it aloud, smiling.

“Hee-hee.” She closes her phone.

I close my eyes and try not to feel so gougy. It's amazing how they bring it out in me.

While we get up and dress, I hear my dad leave. When we are having breakfast I hear the truck return. He's back. Raven is with him. Great.

I go sit in GramMer's living room. I don't greet them when they come in. I pretend not to notice.

She
skips in. She's wearing a sparkly purple tutu. (Omg, in spite of myself—it's so cute.)

I don't change expressions. I pick up a book.
The better to ignore you with, my dear.

She runs around, and gets the stuff she plays with out of a drawer. She totally knows her way around GramMer's house. Her sparkly shoes light up with every step.

GramMer comes in. Raven runs to her.

“GramMer!!” she yells.

Oh . . . so she uses the name I INVENTED for my Gram-Mer: Grandma + Marie = GramMer, pronounced “grammar.” Like what they used to call grade school in the olden days.

“Lil' Raven!” GramMer shouts back as she picks her up and throws her in the air. My grandma is strong. I get that from her too. GramMer throws her into the air again.

I watch from the corner of my eye. I see Raven trying to get my notice. Good luck.

Beau and Leonie come into the living room from the kitchen. They sit down. Leo smiles at Raven, who then sidles up to her. She stares at Leo admiringly.

“You're pretty,” Raven tells her.

Leo dimples up and pokes Raven gently in the stomach like she's the Pillsbury doughboy.

“So're you.”

“I can read!”

“Yeah?”

“Want me to read you a book?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Okay! Which one?” Raven runs to her stocked bookcase.

“Um . . . the pink one.” Leo probably never had a book read to her in her life.

“Um . . . which one?” Raven looks at like one zillion pink books.

“Pink with mermaids?” Leo qualifies.

“Ohhh . . .
Little Mermaid's Pet Seahorse.
'Kay!” She grabs it and climbs up on the sofa beside Leonie. “Her name is Waverly.”

“Oh. I thought it was Aria or something.”

“No—not
Ariel;
Waverly is her pet seahorse!”

“I see.” Leo smiles down at her as Raven explains.

They start reading the book. Raven can seriously read. Well, at least she's smart. It would be worse if she wasn't, I guess. I see her looking over to see if I'm paying attention. Quickly, I avert my gaze to my book again.

No, missy, sorry. This is one person who is
not
going to fall all over you.

The book goes on and freaking on. I roll my eyes. Eventually, stealthily watching them, I see Raven lean against Leo and whisper loudly:

“I wish
you
were my big sister.”

Exactly as my dad walks into the room. Raven stops what she's doing and runs to him. He grabs her and also throws her up into the air.

Apparently the little brat spends a lot of time aloft.

“What's shakin', Stinkpatooty?” My stupid dad hollers as he slings her skyward.

Okay, I know this is hella stupid, but I totally lose it. That was
my
special name! I don't care if it IS stupid to the point of being brain-dead—those are my memories she's wrecking and I wasn't expecting to hear everybody just squalling THAT name!

I huff involuntarily. My dad looks at me. You can see he has no clue.

“Both my stinkpatooties are here: Raven and Rylee Marie!” he shouts and grins happily. Idiot!

I stand up carelessly, leaving the book I've been fake-reading wide open on the floor.

“My name is Rylee, just Rylee!” I snarl. “I dropped the ‘Marie' when I was like five, Dad!”

I stalk out.

Behind me I hear Raven say: “Rylee's mean.”

I slam the door behind me. But first I let The Bomb run through.

We're goin' on a walk.

 

When I get back everyone is gone except Leo. She's in our room.

She's texting. Her giggles reach me before I open the bedroom door....

“What?” Though I know already.

“Omg, he's sooooo corny! He just said I ‘should be careful because they trap foxes up here!' Sooooo adorable! What should I say?”

“Yeah . . .
so
adorable. Tell him ‘thanks for the 411! I'll be real careful of my pelt!!!!'”

“Oooohh, okay . . . that sounds kind of sexy . . . what's a pelt?” She's already texting.

“It's the fur they skin off animals that are trapped. Pelts used to be traded like money. They—”

I stop. Yep: she's not listening. Oh, well, for the record, I'm against trapping . . . wearing fur is cruel.

I flop wearily onto the bed.

Leonie reads Shane's latest text aloud: “I think I'm falling for the girl with a pelt.”

I sigh.

“Tell him ‘no falling while flying!!!!'”

Clickity-click go her stick fingers. Then she sits and snickers to herself.

“I'm the whole package,” she repeats softly, reading his reply.

Resignedly, I retreat to the sanctuary of my squishy pillow.

 

When I wake I am alone and the sun is shining. The clock says 7:13 so I assume that means p.m.

When I wander out on the back porch I see Beau. He's texting. It's all anyone does anymore.

He looks up.

“Hey there, sleepyhead!”

“Hey,” I say grumpily. “How's Kurtis? Has he judged any prize turds lately?”

Beau yelps with amusement and shakes his head no. Whether he means “no, it's not Kurtis,” or “no, just average turds lately” is unclear. I stay nasty-tempered. This trip has been
such
a bust! Beau can see the thundercloud embedded over my head. He stops snickering. He pats the bench seat beside him.

“I'm sorry, Rylee,” he says after I slump beside him on the log swing where he's sitting. He squeezes my shoulders in a hug for a sec. “This sincerely must be so weird for you. It must suck so hard.”

“Yeah . . . total surprise, that's for sure.”

“Well, I might have a good surprise, maybe.”

“As long as it's a good one, Beau, bro.” I sigh. I'd like
one
good surprise this whole dismal trip.

We swing in the evening sunshine. I keep thinking I should call my mom and tell her. And Paul. They should know. I absolutely don't know what I will say or how to tell them.

If I even call.

I sit and consider.

I remember being so mad at my dad all the time when I was little. And feeling so superior. My mom told us that Dad was “mistaken” and that God was just taking a little more time with him when we complained that he didn't have to go to church. She told us that we had to pray for him and tell him how much we wanted him to go to Mass with us. . . .

Yeah, well, suffice to say, he never went. And he was always in trouble when we got home, if he was around, so it became habit that he just wasn't around on Sundays. I knew where he went, because he used to take me with him on other days besides Sunday when I was little.

He would go down to the marina and walk among the boats and read their names aloud.