Spectacle (A Young Adult Novel) (21 page)

She’d found him just a few minutes before, typing away on his laptop, and she’d come right out and asked. Could she go visit her mother for Christmas? And would he loan her his credit card? She’d withdraw the cash tomorrow to pay him back.

At first, he’d been flustered. “Your mother? What do you mean
visit your mother
? We don’t even know where she is.”

Defiantly lifting her chin the slightest bit, she said, “I do.” She explained how she’d found Marilyn, how they’d communicated (though she didn’t tell him the sum total of their email exchanges were one each).

“No,” he’d boomed. “No way. You can’t fly down there by yourself and stay with some flighty artist who isn’t to be trusted.”

“Lots of kids fly by themselves. Thousands. Besides, it’s not like I’m eight. I’m sixteen.”

“No, Emily. End of story. Case closed. It’s a ridiculous idea.”

She watched his profile for any sign that her request to visit Marilyn had hurt him. But his face gave nothing away: no tick of his cheek or tug of his brows.

She considered groveling. Whining. Bawling. But she knew none of it would work. Her father, once he’d made up his mind, was impossible to sway.

Lowering her voice to almost a whisper, she said, “Please.”

“How many times do I have to say ‘No’?” Throughout the discussion/argument, her father had never once turned to look at her.

Chest burning, she said, “All right, fine.” But it wasn’t fine, and she hadn’t given up the idea of going to visit her real mom for Christmas.

Sunlight flooded Emily’s room. She peeled off her coat and tossed it on her bed, then flopped down next to it to flip through the photos on her camera.

She’d shot neighbors’ Christmas lights, plastic cutouts of snowmen, and Santas all glinting garishly in the midday light.

She’d snapped photos of cigarette butts languishing on lampposts, a colorful party hat, flattened to the wet pavement, and leafless trees etched across the gray sky.

A few of the shots were crisp and stark. Exactly what she’d been going for. But others just kind of limped, muddy and ill-composed.

There was a quiet tap on her door that Emily recognized as Melissa’s skinny knuckles. She always knocked softly, almost inaudibly.

“Yeah? What?” Emily snapped.

“Can I come in?”

Letting loose a huge, put-out sigh, Emily stood and swung the door open. “What?” She cocked her hip and looked down at Melissa.

Melissa gently shouldered her way past Emily. “Close the door,” she whispered.

Emily did as she was told, quietly clicking it shut.

Melissa’s face was strained, her eyes worried. “Here,” she said. She handed Emily an American Express card. It was smooth and cool in Emily’s palm. She ran her finger over the raised numbers and looked at Melissa questioningly.

“So you can go visit your mother,” Melissa said.

“Really? But … you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t. And your dad’s probably going to divorce me for this. But you should. You should be able to figure this out. And if that means you need to have a face-to-face with Marilyn, you ought to.”

Hearing Melissa say Marilyn’s name sent a cold purl up Emily’s spine. “I don’t want Dad to be mad at you, too.”

“I’ll deal with him.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“I know.”

“Thank you.”

Melissa crossed her arms and shook her head. “You know, your dad loves you.”

“Sometimes I find that hard to believe.”

“He’s been through some things, too. That make him the way he is now. I’m sure you’ve heard this, but his family didn’t have much money when he was a kid.”

“So poor they had to poop in a hole in the woods. That’s what he’s always told us.”

“Right,” Melissa said. “He never wants you girls to have to go through that. And Marilyn’s leaving … that really hurt him.”

Nodding, Emily said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What do you see in him? I mean, what’s the big draw? He’s unpleasant so much of the time. Like, mean.”

Melissa’s face softened. “I don’t see him as mean.”

Emily kept her voice low and respectful because Melissa was doing this amazing thing for her, helping her find her mother. But she wanted to jump on the bed and shriek. “Like how? What then?”

“Bob really helped me. I was in debt, living in a crummy apartment in Rainier Beach. And, I’m going to tell you something almost no one knows … ”

She hesitated for such a long time Emily thought Melissa had changed her mind about telling her secret.

Finally, Melissa said, “I had just had a miscarriage when I met your dad.”

“What?”

Looking her straight in the eyes, Melissa said, “Yep. A boyfriend got me pregnant. I had mixed feelings about the whole thing, but in the end decided I really wanted to keep the baby. Unfortunately, though, I lost it.”

Emily forced her jaw closed. “And you broke up with the boyfriend right after?”

“I realized there wasn’t much keeping us together.” Melissa said. “Anyway, I was kind of broken and your dad helped me pick up the pieces.”

“Is that why you’re so devoted to him?”

“That and he’s a good man. He is, Em. I see that derisive glint in your eye. He works too hard and loses sight of what’s important sometimes, but he wants the best for all of us.”

“Wow,” Emily said. “I had no idea. About your … about what happened to you.”

Melissa said, “Now, I’m assuming your mother has made arrangements to pick you up at the airport.”

Oh God. Emily was going to have to lie. And after Melissa had been so generous. After she’d confessed her past. But if she told the truth, that Marilyn Wozniak had no idea her daughter was coming on Christmas Eve, Melissa would grab her card back like a frog snatching an insect out of the air.

“Yes,” Emily said. “She and her husband, Winslow.”

“Do I need to contact her?”

“No! No. It’s covered.”

“You have to call me when you get there. And twice a day until you come home.”

Emily was breathless. This was really going to happen. “I will. I promise.”

“And I want you to email me your itinerary.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Okay, you have the airport shuttle pick you up a few blocks away. I’ll track your flight online and once you’ve taken off, I’ll tell your father.”

Both anguished and relieved, Emily said. “Oh, God.”

“I know. It’ll be ugly. Not a very merry Christmas, I imagine. But we’ll survive.”

Emily went to Melissa and hugged her. “Thank you,” she said into Melissa’s shiny black hair. “Thank you so much.”

Melissa hugged her back, an almost desperate grip, her fingernails digging into Emily’s shoulder blades.

“Oh,” Emily pulled away and went to her dresser. She took $350 from a small lacquered box and handed the wad of money to her stepmom.

Melissa took it, but did not count it. She shoved it into her pocket.

“I hope this is worth it,” Melissa said.

Emily took a deep breath and said, “Me too.”

52. Fear and Loathing on the Dark Side

T
RIX SLOGGED THROUGH
the next few days, wondering why the heavy feeling of regret wasn’t evaporating like it usually did. Normally, after giving it up to a boy, she felt slutty and cheap for a day, maybe two. But, then she vowed not to do it again and eventually regained her equilibrium. This time, the remorse was a steel-gray mist hanging around her, trailing her, making it hard for her to concentrate on studying.

Once, after school, she tried to talk to Marjorie about it. They were walking through Fremont drinking espressos and deciding how to score some cigarettes without actually buying them, when Trix brought it up. “When you … have sex with a guy, do you ever wish you hadn’t?”

Marjorie looked at her squinty-eyed. “What do you mean?”

“Do you feel … nasty?”

“Absolutely not. We need to own our sexuality, okay? Guys go around sticking their dicks in anything that breathes, but if we want to have unattached sex we’re supposed to feel trashy? Nuh-uh.”

“All guys don’t stick it in anything.”

“Oh really? I don’t buy that.”

Trix knew it was true, though. Ryan, for instance, was a good one. He wasn’t in it just to see what he could get.

Still, Marjorie’s words made Trix feel better. She was right. If guys could have sex with no strings, so could girls.

They went into a store called Bliss and tried on a few dresses. Marjorie walked out with one in her purse, plus a pair of earrings for Trix.

“You’re bad,” Trix said.

“I know,” Marjorie cackled. “And you worship me for it.”

Trix thought about this. She’d always considered herself pretty brazen, until she met Marjorie and realized she was just a hack in the presence of a true crazy person. Did she wish she were more like Marjorie? Only in the way that Marjorie
owned
everything she did without regret or remorse. That Trix did admire.

But Marjorie’s dark side was several shades darker than Trix’s, and it scared her a little. She didn’t know what all her friend might attempt. And while that unpredictability could be fun, it also freaked Trix out.

She imagined telling Marjorie about Ryan and how bad and for how long she’d crushed on him. But Marjorie would laugh her head off at that one. Trix and straight-laced,
vanilla
Ryan. As if.

So Trix kept quiet, scratched at the imaginary ants skittering up her arms and legs, and slipped her new earrings into her pocket.

53. Helpless

L
ATER THAT NIGHT
, Trix’s mom called, asking if Trix could bring her some groceries.

“What?” Trix said. She’d been sitting at her dad’s cheap Formica table, trying to study for an English Comp test while a WWF fight blared from the TV. She still had three chapters in her textbook to cover and half a novel to read. “You’re not helpless, Ma. Go to Safeway.”

“I’m sick,” her mom said. “I’ve had to do three breathing treatments today.”

“What about Rodney? Can’t he bring you some Arby’s?”

Her mom sighed, a long exhalation. “I need some vegetables, Trixie. Some carrots and apples or something.”

Trix chewed the inside of her mouth to keep from exploding. She knew her mother wanted more than just the food. She wanted Trix to
buy
the food. From her Frederick’s paycheck. She muttered a string of curse words under her breath. Trix only needed forty-six dollars more to get the sewing machine.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

David came walking into the room and sat in front of her, blinking. She hauled him onto her lap and scratched his head.

“C’mon, Trixie. I could be dead by tomorrow. Safeway’s open until midnight.”

It was already ten o’clock, and a school night. She calculated that if she took the two buses it would require to get to the store, bought stuff for her mom, delivered it, and bussed it back to her dad’s, she’d be home by midnight. One at the latest. And she still needed to get ready for the quiz tomorrow.

Her guidance counselor had informed Trix that any more unexcused absences or grades less than a C would result in her not graduating early. And getting out of school to start on her real life, hopefully at the Art Institute, sounded pretty appealing right then.

Still, it was hard to refuse Fiona. She was her mother, after all.

She began grumpily stuffing some clothes, makeup, and schoolbooks into her bag. “Okay, you know what? I’ll bring you some food. But then I’m going to crash there, and I don’t want to see Rodney. So, food or him?”

Her mother sighed as if Trix were ridiculous. “He’s working tonight, Trixie.”

“Okay, then.”

On her way out, Trix stopped to tell her dad her plans, but he was asleep on the couch. She gingerly removed a half-full beer bottle from his hand, covered him with a thin blanket, and slipped out into the night.

54. Shock and Horror

I
T WAS THE
last day of school before holiday break and Emily pedaled her heavy bike east. She didn’t know how to feel. Her emotions were like bricks. Ryan dumped her! She was going to see her mother! Ryan dumped her! She was going to see her mother!

She tried mightily not to let her breakup with Ryan ruin her upcoming trip to Bisbee. She’d been waiting so long to see her mother again. Far longer than she’d known Ryan.

Who knew? Maybe she and Marilyn would hit it off and drink iced tea together on her desert patio, trading photos and stories and memories.

It was a bitterly cold morning, though bright. When she rode, she had to visor a hand over her eyes to shield them from the low winter sun, and still she was afraid she’d mow over a pedestrian or get smacked by a turning car.

She was about four blocks from school, uneager to arrive but ready to be warm, when someone called her name.

Muttering to herself, “What now?” she turned to see Kennedy Furukawa sprinting toward her.

“Hey!” Kennedy said, out of breath. “I’ve been trying to catch up with you.”

Emily waited reluctantly, decided she felt conspicuous in her helmet, and snapped it off.

“Any big plans for your break?” Kennedy asked, as if they were old friends.

Emily wasn’t about to confide in Kennedy her plans of meeting her mother. “Not really, you?”

“We’re going to Maui like we always do.”

“Rough life.”

“Yeah, well, my dad is half Hawaiian, so we see family.”

Slowly, Emily started walking her bike alongside Kennedy. They continued their small talk, chatting about schoolwork they had to get done before they were set free on Friday. Finally, Kennedy got around to the reason she’d hunted down Emily, “So, Ryan.”

Emily bit down hard on her bottom lip, then said, “We’re not together anymore.”

“I heard.”

Of course Kennedy had heard. It was common knowledge by now.

“I think I can give you some insight into that.”

“Into our breakup?”

They passed under a tree on which frosty pine needles trembled. A squirrel skittered across the sidewalk in front of them.