Smart Women (18 page)

Anyway, Michelle wasn’t about to kill herself. There were other ways to get even with people. Like when her poems were published and Michelle was interviewed on the
Today
show and Jane Pauley said,
Tell us, Michelle . . . did your mother encourage you to write?
Michelle would say,
My mother? My mother was too busy with her boyfriend to even notice.

Michelle got out of bed and walked across the room to her desk. She picked up a pencil, opened her special notebook, and jotted down a few lines. She yawned then, feeling incredibly tired. She closed her notebook. She would finish her poem in the morning. She got back into bed and fell asleep.

19

S
ARA COULD NOT BELIEVE IT.
Her father, who had come to Boulder to be with her, had moved in with Margo Sampson. And Sara was never going to forgive him. Never! Now all of her plans, her secret plans, were spoiled. Because she had been thinking that maybe she would tell her father about her mother’s screaming fits and that Daddy would say,
Well, Sara, in that case, why don’t you come and live with me?
And she would.

Jennifer said that Sara was more than disappointed. Jennifer said that Sara was depressed. And Jennifer should know. One time Jennifer had been so depressed she’d had to see a shrink three times a week. That had been a long time ago, when they were in fifth grade. Jennifer said that she would help Sara through her depression. Jennifer was the one who had clued her in on what was going on between Margo and her father in the first place.

It was on the Saturday night before Halloween and Jennifer had come to Daddy’s house with her. The three of them had played a marathon game of Monopoly and then Daddy had cooked them baked ziti, which Jennifer refused to eat until Daddy explained that it was just spaghetti in a different shape. After dinner Margo had come by and she and Daddy had gone for a walk while Sara and Jennifer had watched a movie on TV.

That’s when Jennifer had asked, “Are Margo and your father lovers?”

“I don’t think so,” Sara said. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Jennifer told her, “without a doubt.”

“How can you tell?”

“I’ve had experience with my own parents.”

“I don’t think you’re right,” Sara said. “They’re just friends is all.”

“You’re so naive, Sara,” Jennifer said. “If you don’t believe me you can smell the sheets.”

“Smell the sheets?”

“Yes.”

So she and Jennifer went into her father’s bedroom and pulled back the blanket and Jennifer bent down and sniffed the sheet. “What’d I tell you?” she said. “They’re doing it, all right.”

Sara sniffed the sheets too, but she didn’t smell anything strange. Still, it gave her a funny feeling to think about her father doing it with Margo. She had noticed that one time Daddy and Margo were holding hands, but still . . .

Their was just one way to find out for sure. On Sunday night, when her father drove her home, she asked him. “Are you doing it with Margo?”

“Doing what?”

“You know . . . sex.”

Her father took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “What makes you ask?”

“I’m curious.”

“Well, it’s true that Margo and I are very good friends.”

“But are you doing it?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

Sara squeezed her eyes shut for a minute.

“Does that bother you?” her father asked.

“I guess not,” Sara said, biting her nails. “I just like to know what’s going on.” Damn her mother! If only her mother had been nicer to Daddy then he wouldn’t be doing it with Margo. He’d be back home, where he belonged. “Margo’s not as pretty as Mom, is she?”

“They’re very different,” her father said.

“But Mom is prettier, don’t you think?”

“This isn’t a contest, Sara.”

Even if her father wouldn’t admit it, Sara knew it was true. Her mother was the prettiest woman in Boulder. Everybody said so. It would be nice to look like her mother, Sara thought. But she didn’t. She looked more like her father’s family, like a Broder. Sometimes she couldn’t remember what her father looked like underneath his beard, so she’d take out her photos, the ones she kept hidden away, and she’d study them. In the photos Sara could see that she and her father had the same eyes. Bobby had had them too. Sleepy-looking eyes that changed from gray to green, depending on the light. And she had her father’s thick hair which Jennifer called
dirty blond,
but which her mother called
honey,
and she had her father’s teeth, which was why she had braces and couldn’t eat raw carrots anymore. She wondered what Bobby would look like if he hadn’t died. He’d be about the same age as Stuart Sampson. Maybe they’d be friends.

“Do you like Margo better than Mom?” Sara asked.

“Sara, honey . . .” Daddy said, “your mother and I are divorced and have been for a long time.”

“I know that! Don’t you think I know that? What I mean is do you like Margo more than you liked Mom when you first met her?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not fair to compare how I felt at twenty-two and how I feel at forty-two. It’s very different.”

“But suppose you were just meeting Mom now, for the first time. Wouldn’t you think she was beautiful?”

“Yes, I suppose I would.”

“I thought so,” Sara said.

When her father pulled up in front of Sara’s house he turned off the engine and faced her. “You’re beautiful too, Sara. Your beauty comes from inside, like Margo’s.”

“I’d rather look like Mom than like Margo,” Sara said.

Daddy took her in his arms and talked into her hair, so softly that she could hardly hear what he was saying. “Just because Margo and I are close friends . . . are lovers . . . doesn’t have anything to do with the way I feel about you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I guess,” Sara whispered back.

“Because I love you very, very much and nothing will ever change that.”

Sara let him hold her that way for a long time. She liked being close to him. She liked the way his hair smelled from that shampoo he bought at the health food store. She liked the feel of his denim jacket, which was so old it was soft against her cheek. She liked being absolutely alone with him. She wished they were the only two people in the whole world. She wished that Margo and her mother were both dead.

It was that night, after she’d said goodbye to her father, that she’d gone inside and had made the terrible mistake. She never should have told her mother that Daddy and Margo were sleeping together. And maybe she wouldn’t have if her mother hadn’t started in on her right away.

“God, you stink when you come back from his place, Sara. Doesn’t he ever make you take a bath or brush your teeth? And look at your hair. I’ll bet you didn’t brush it once all weekend, did you? Now get into the shower and scrub everywhere, or else I’ll come in and do it for you!”

“I’ll do it later,” Sara said. “First I want to call Jennifer.”

“You’ll do it now!” her mother shouted, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her toward the bathroom.

“Get off my case!” Sara shouted.

“Don’t you talk to me that way.”

“Daddy and Margo are lovers. Did you know that?”

There, she’d surprised her mother all right. She could see the change in her face. Well, it served her mother right.

“What did you say?” her mother asked.

“I said that Daddy and Margo are lovers,” Sara repeated, more quietly this time.

“Where did you ever get such an idea?”

“I asked Daddy and he told me.”

“Do you know what that means, when two people are lovers?”

“Yes. It means they’re fucking.”

Her mother slapped her across the face, stunning her. Her mother had never hit her before, not even on her bottom when she’d been little. Sara could feel the sting long after the slap. Tears came to her eyes. But she wasn’t going to cry. Instead she thought about how good it would feel to slap her mother back. But a wild look came into her mother’s eyes and Mom began to make these strange sounds, like a puppy yelping. Then her mother took off, running down the hall. Sara heard a door slam shut and the yelping turned to screams. The screaming grew louder and louder until there was just one horrible, continuous sound.

Sara covered her ears with her hands and prayed,
Please God, let her stop . . .

20

B
.
B
. DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO.
And she felt afraid. Sometimes the screaming just started in the back of her throat and came out, surprising her. She had to work harder at controlling it. Control was the key to success. If she could not control the screaming, if she ever let go completely, she would never stop, she was sure. And then she would lose everything. Everything she had worked so hard for. Everything that mattered.

She almost lost it in Jazzercise, the day after Sara told her that Andrew and Margo were lovers. That morning, after her run, while she and Sara were in the kitchen having breakfast, B.B. had said, “I hope you didn’t think I was angry at you last night. It’s just that I have so much on my mind. We’re so busy at the office. I didn’t mean to slap you. You understand, don’t you, Sweetie?”

“Sure,” Sara had said.

“And Sara, about Margo and your father . . .”

Sara looked up from her bowl of cereal. “What about them?”

“Well . . . I just want you to know it’s nothing but a convenience.”

“How do you mean, a convenience?”

“You see, a man needs a woman for sex and since he’s living right next door to Margo and since he’s new in town and doesn’t know anyone else, it’s convenient for him to be having sex with her.”

“Doesn’t a woman need a man for sex too?”

“Yes, of course . . . that’s what I’m saying. Margo and your father are both lonely people, and somewhat neurotic and so they . . .”

“What do you mean, neurotic?”

“Oh, nothing . . . nothing . . . just forget it.”

“No,” Sara said, laying down her spoon. “I want to know.”

“It’s hard to explain,” B.B. said. “Margo and your father are two people who aren’t especially steady or reliable . . . they flit around a lot, like bees . . . the first convenient flower is the one the bee sits on . . .”

“Bees don’t sit,” Sara said. “They cross-pollinate.”

“Right. So you see what I mean.”

“Are you saying they don’t really like each other?” Sara asked.

“Oh, I’m sure they like each other, but it’s just a diversion. It’s not an important relationship or one that’s going to last.”

“Is it like you and Lewis?” Sara asked.

“No. Lewis and I have an important relationship.”

“Are you going to get married?”

“It’s much too soon to talk about marriage. We’ve only known each other since last summer and he’s only been to Boulder twice.”

“But you’re lovers, right?”

“Well, yes. But we’re good friends first.”

“That’s just what Daddy said about Margo and him.”

“Really . . .”

“Daddy thinks you’re very pretty,” Sara said. “Did you know that?”

“Did he say so?”

“Yes. It would be nice to have him come home, wouldn’t it?”

“Home? Do you mean back here with us?”

“Don’t you think that would be nice?” Sara asked.

“Is that what he wants? Is that what he told you?”

Sara shrugged. “Not exactly.”

B.B. felt tense, confused. After breakfast she offered to braid Sara’s hair, but Sara said, “No thanks. I’m going to wear it loose today.” B.B. walked Sara to the front door. “Bye, Sweetie. I love you.”

“And I love you,” Sara mumbled.

“For how long?”

“For always and forever.” Sara did not look at B.B. as she said it.

“That’s how long I’ll love you too,” B.B. said, hugging Sara, feeling her warmth, not wanting to let her go. Sara stood there stiffly, allowing B.B. to embrace her, but not responding.

God, B.B. thought, suppose Sara decided to go and live with Andrew? Suppose they went to court and Sara told the judge that her mother screamed all the time, that she had even slapped her face once, that she was afraid of her? Surely any judge would allow a child to live with the other parent in that case. And Andrew would be there, ready and willing to take Sara away.