The Rules of Survival (10 page)

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Authors: Nancy Werlin

BOOK: The Rules of Survival
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If there was an edge to Callie’s voice, you didn’t pick up on it. You looked interested. “I can pray at church?”
“Yes,” I said. “You can. That would be okay.”
Callie looked up at last and our eyes met. I nodded at her. She bit her lip. “I’ll go get stuff we can wear,” she said. “I don’t want Emmy having to change back there in our bedroom . . . with—with him here. We can take her downstairs and change in the hall outside Aunt Bobbie’s.”
I nodded again.
Callie disappeared.
The organ music came to an end. The radio announced: “That was Cantata 147, ‘Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,’ by Johann Sebastian Bach, played by the Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, conducted by David Willcocks. This is National Public Radio. Here at WBUR, our new fiscal year begins in just ten days . . . ”
I finished making the coffee. I had decided to prepare Rob’s just the same as Nikki’s. I squared my shoulders. I would take the two mugs to her door. I would do it now.
I turned with the mugs just as Callie reappeared in the doorway, her arms filled with clothes that she had gathered rapidly, too rapidly. In the pile, I could see your blue summer dress with the yellow ducks on it, and a white dress shirt for me that I was pretty sure no longer fit. Callie took one step into the kitchen and dumped the stuff onto the table, the sleeve of my dress shirt flying perilously close to her abandoned cereal bowl. Her cheeks were red, as if she’d been running.
And then Nikki appeared in the doorway right behind Callie. She was dressed, but barely, in her green and red silk robe with the dragon on the back. At least I didn’t have to go into her bedroom. I managed to smile at her. I walked across the kitchen so I could hand her the mugs.
“ . . . that’s why we count on the support of loyal listeners like you . . .”
“Your coffee, Mom,” I said, and then I saw the tiny bit of leftover white powder just beside her right nostril. I don’t think my face changed, but somehow my gaze tangled with hers and she read my mind as easily as a monkey peels a banana. She put her right hand up to her nose, captured the bit of powder on her fingertip, put it to her nostril, and sniffed. She stared into my eyes the whole time.
“ . . . and for every donation of a hundred and twenty dollars that you make in the next hour, your money will be matched . . . ”
I turned back to the counter, put one mug down very precisely, and snapped the radio off. Then I picked the mug back up. “Coffee?” I said.
Nikki waved away the mugs with one hand. She gestured at the pile of clothes on the kitchen table. “What’s all this?”
“Well,” said Callie brightly, “we’re getting dressed to go to church this morning.”
“To pray,” you said, smiling a sly smile.
Nikki narrowed her eyes at you. Then her gaze traveled to Callie and me in turn.
And then she threw back her head and laughed. The laugh came out full and long and generous.
“Rob!” Nikki called. “Hey, Rob, get this! My kids are getting ready for church!”
There was no reply from the bedroom, but that didn’t appear to bother Nikki. She was looking at the clothes again, and then from the pile back to me. A serious look of assessment came over her face. “Matt, you’ll need a different shirt. This one won’t fit you anymore. You should throw it out.”
“I will.” I took the shirt from her.
“Good,” she said briskly. “Try the left side of your closet. I think there’s a long-sleeved blue button-down that will fit. I bought it for you at Marshalls last year, and it was big then. Wear it with chinos, not jeans.” Her gaze moved on. “Callie, honey, you shouldn’t wear pants to church. It’s not right. Why don’t you just wear your plaid school skirt? With a cardigan.” She had fished Callie’s green jeans and black sweater off of the table. “Put these back.”
Callie took them. “Okay. Great. Thanks.” She didn’t look at me, or me at her, but we didn’t need to do that to share our relief.
Nikki had now picked up your summery dress, the last thing on the table, and was shaking her head.
“I’ll find something else for Emmy, too, Mom,” I said. “I know she can’t wear that. It’s not warm enough.”
“Oh, no,” said Nikki easily. She handed the dress to me. “Just put it away. You don’t need to find another one. You two are going, but not Emmy. She’s been bad, so I’ll just keep her with me and Rob today. After all, she’s already shown us that she can pray perfectly well without church.”
While we gaped at her, she turned back to the table and picked up your Minnie Mouse mug. “Wash this for me, Matt, and put my coffee in it.”
21
 
RIGHT AFTERWARD
 
“It’s not so bad,” I said uncertainly to Callie, as we lingered on the sidewalk in front of our house. With the front door of the house shut behind us, we could no longer hear your furious screams.
I wanna go to church! Matt, take me! Callie! I want to go pray for Murdoch! You said I could!
“Maybe it’ll teach Emmy not to—not to . . . ”
Callie gave me a look. “You want her taught things?”
I had a sudden vision of our mother, upstairs in her dragon robe, and of that huge man she’d brought home. “Shut up,” I said sharply. “Shut up. This was your idea—your stupid idea. I thought we were going to pretend things were the way they were before. Well, huh? Huh? We don’t usually go to church.”
She did shut up. I crossed my arms and hunched my shoulders. Callie had her coat, but I hadn’t remembered my jacket, and it was a chilly, damp autumn day. We didn’t move from our chosen spot in front of the house, looking up at it from time to time even though we were too close to even see the third-floor bay window of our apartment. We certainly could not see inside.
There had barely been time to scramble into the clothes Nikki had picked out for us before we felt her hands at our backs, literally pushing. And then the apartment door slammed behind us, the dead bolt clicked audibly into place on the other side, and we were left on the inner stairs, with nothing to do but step down, down, down. Past Aunt Bobbie’s second-floor apartment, where the television blared. Past the first-floor apartment, where the college students probably still slept. With each step, your cries faded, until we closed the front door behind us.
“How long is church?” I asked eventually.
“I don’t know. An hour?”
“That’s not long.”
“No.”
Still, we didn’t move. Across the street, tiny old Mrs. Hennigan was kneeling on her stoop, completely absorbed with stuffing rags into a pair of jeans and a shirt. Eventually, she sat the headless scarecrow carefully on a child’s plastic chair, positioned a large pumpkin head on its lap, and competently hammered the scarecrow’s gloved hands to the pumpkin head.
“I forgot my jacket,” I said to Callie.
“Do you want to go back for it?”
“Should I?”
“You could. She’ll be mad. But you could.”
We stood there. I was so cold.
“Well?” Callie said.
“I’ll live without it,” I said. “Let’s go to church. We can come back right after and see if she’ll let us in then. It’s only an hour.”
“Yes.” Callie didn’t move, though. “I wonder—maybe we could go back in and ask Aunt Bobbie . . .”
“Ask her what?”
“Just to keep an eye out.”
I sneered. “We’ll do better praying.”
Callie nodded. Listen, Emmy: Aunt Bobbie wasn’t Aunt Bobbie then, like she is now. We didn’t think she would help us. Actually, then, I don’t think she would have.
And so we went to church, the big Catholic one on Broadway, and when we came back, Nikki had taken you and—with that guy Rob, too, for all we knew—disappeared.
And then we did go to see Aunt Bobbie, who was indeed no real help. “Well, you know how Nikki is. She’ll be back tonight. Or, worst case, in a day or two. I suppose you could have dinner here. Yes! Why don’t we plan on that? I’ll get us one of those big buckets of chicken, with the biscuits and everything.” She paused, thoughtful, and then added, “Maybe two buckets.”
22
 
AUNT BOBBIE
 
On the rare occasions when I have had to tell a version of my life story to outsiders, I move Aunt Bobbie up front and center. “My little sister Emmy and I live with our aunt, Roberta O’Grady. We have for years now. She’s our legal guardian.”
And if one day I meet a girl, I will take her home to meet Aunt Bobbie. I will explain how Aunt Bobbie took us in and sort of saved our lives. And Aunt Bobbie will glow, the way she does when you introduce her casually to your friends from school:
Aunt Bobbie’s my aunt, but she’s also my mother.
I’ve heard you say just that, Emmy.
Sometimes, I look at this new Aunt Bobbie, the one who plans college applications with me, who cheers herself hoarse at Callie’s field hockey games, and who reviews your homework and braids your hair. She looks the same as ever—a plainer, inflated version of Nikki. But that other Aunt Bobbie heard just about everything her sister said and did, ten feet above her head, and she never said a word to interfere or even to offer us comfort. Then she became this new person. Just like that.
What Murdoch says about Aunt Bobbie’s change is: “Remember that quote: ‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.’”
“Uh, but Aunt Bobbie had motherhood thrust upon her.”
“No. Greatness. Bobbie didn’t know she was strong—stronger than her sister.” He never uses Nikki’s name nowadays. Just “your mother” or “her sister.” “She didn’t know she had ideals and principles, because she’d buried them so deep.”
“But she ignored so much, for so long. How come suddenly—”
“One day, she took that first step to get involved. It felt right to her, so that led to more. It’s simple.”
This is what Aunt Bobbie says about the change—I’ve heard her, when she talks to a few friends of hers:
“Well, maybe I should have seen my sister’s life more clearly earlier. Seen that she was out of control and it wasn’t good for the kids. I look back, and I should have known. I guess I didn’t let myself. But, well, there’s no sense crying over it now. What’s done is done. And once I fully understood the situation, I acted. I give myself credit for that. And I have to say, I have never had a moment of regret.
“No, it’s really not such a big responsibility as all that. Matt was already almost grown up, and Emmy, well, it’s just not a burden. I thought I was going to spend my whole life alone, and look: I’m a mother! And they’re great kids, no trouble at all, nothing like Nikki. And their father’s around, too. He helps a lot these days. Callie—that’s the older sister—she decided to live with him. The way I see it, I have a lot to be grateful for.
“So, listen, my Em is going to be in the Christmas pageant at St. Anne’s. She’s one of the three wise men. They’re selling tickets here at the grocery next week, if you’re interested in bringing your niece. One tip, though. They’ve been using the same costumes for the last twenty years. I don’t think they’ve ever been washed, so don’t sit in the first few rows.”
That’s Aunt Bobbie. A mystery.
23
 
FIRST BLOOD
 
Nikki did eventually come back with you, just as Aunt Bobbie had predicted. The new man, Rob, was not with you—I knew that immediately, from the sounds on the stairs that night at 10:32. Only two sets of feet, one light—yours—the other the unmistakable clomp of Nikki’s heels. Then her voice, only slightly annoyed, talking to you. “Okay, okay, we’re home, just like you wanted all day. Are you happy now?”
Nikki strode into the apartment, hauling you by one hand. The strong smell of Chinese food came in with you; Nikki was holding a big brown paper bag. “Put the little crybaby to bed, will you?” she said to Callie, but her tone was still mild, and a smile was playing around her mouth and her eyes. Wherever she had been, whatever she had been doing—she had had a good time.
Your mouth was set tight. And you had been crying—your eyes were reddened—but that was okay, I thought, because you were all right somehow. I could see at once, from the mutinous way you had hunched your shoulders, that your spirit was intact. Spurning Callie’s outstretched hand, you marched to our bedroom, throwing your coat on the living room floor as you went. “
Nobody
put me to bed!” You slammed the bedroom door behind you.
“Then stay there!” Nikki yelled after you. “Little brat! I should never have had you, anyway!”
I watched Nikki carefully, but your slammed door didn’t affect her good humor. A second later, she was tossing her hair and rolling her eyes at Callie and me. “What a little pain in the ass she can be, huh? All day,
I wanna go home, I wanna go home, I wanna go home.”
I decided to risk that good humor. “So, where’d you go?”
“First, to Rob’s. Then just to the mall.” Nikki shrugged. I waited to see if more information would be forthcoming, but it wasn’t. Nikki put the bag of Chinese takeout on the counter and opened it. She insisted we all sit down at the table and have a feast. “I’m ravenous! I got Emmy an ice cream at the mall, but I haven’t eaten since morning. And I wanted to make it up to you, since you two missed dinner.”

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