The Snowball Effect (12 page)

I put the pictures away and slid the shoe box back under my bed.

Due to sheer boredom, I pulled one of Mom's notebooks out from under my mattress. I opened to a random page and began to read.

“Ghandi?” Yeah, okay.

I could think of a few people who should take that advice. Dad, for example, wanting to act like a real dad now but never bothering to apologize for being a jerk. Maybe I should have Mom's words of wisdom published and pass copies out as Christmas presents.

I slammed the notebook shut and shoved it back under my mattress. Mom's Book of Clichés made me nauseous.

I reached back under my bed and dragged out a stack of papers. I pulled up my trash can and threw out magazines, pay stubs, school papers. And then I found a letter from my bank with that familiar four-digit code I'd somehow managed to forget.

I put my shoes on and decided that now was as good a time as any to go to the ATM. Not having cash sucked.

I drove to the 7-Eleven, got my money, and wandered
around inside for a while. I walked every aisle twice and flipped through about fifteen different magazines. Then I noticed the cashier glaring at me. I grabbed one of the magazines and took it up to the counter to pay.

It wasn't until I walked out to my car and I looked around the parking lot that I realized what I was doing, why I'd chosen to loiter at this particular 7-Eleven. I wanted to see him again. Slurpee Guy.

But it's hard to accidentally run into someone when you're trying to do it on purpose.

I got in the Grand Am and drove to the diner. I didn't even know if Kara was working, but as I stood by the
PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED
sign, I spotted her red hair. She saw me from across the room and waved me over.

“Can't sleep?” she asked.

I shook my head.

I sat in one of her booths, and she poured me coffee. “I'll come sit with you when I have a minute,” she said, and then walked over to another table.

I looked out the window at the parking lot and saw a flash of headlights. I realized that if Riley went by my house and saw my car gone, I was so predictable that he'd know exactly where to find me. He'd come in and find me sitting here. He'd get down on his knees and apologize. And it would be good enough for me. I'd apologize too. We'd hug. He'd buy me an omelet.

As the car parked, I daydreamed that it might be Slurpee Guy instead. He couldn't sleep either. He'd been
thinking about me. He'd gone to 7-Eleven too, but I'd left right before he got there. By chance he drove to this diner. He'd see me sitting here alone and he'd come over. I'd tell him about my PIN. We'd catch up. I'd buy him an omelet.

God, that ridiculous dream. I couldn't get it out of my head. I thought about Slurpee Guy in his underwear, spooning me. It wasn't even real, but it played in my mind over and over and over.

The bell rang as the door of the diner opened. I turned. Slurpee Guy coming to formally make my acquaintance? Riley coming to reclaim me? I wasn't sure who I wanted it to be.

Of course it wasn't either of them. An older couple stood in the doorway, no one I knew, looking a little weary. They'd probably just stopped for something to eat before they got back on the road and finished driving to wherever it was they really wanted to go.

R
iley left ten messages on my voice mail before I finally decided to call him back. His tenth message said, “It's almost your birthday. I need to know what you want to do. If you don't tell me, I'm just going to plan something crazy.”

I'd been trying really hard to ignore my birthday.

“Riley,” I said when he answered the phone. “Please don't plan anything. I don't want to do anything.”

“You don't want to go out anywhere?”

“No.”

“You don't want to see me?” he asked.

I hesitated.

“Lainey?”

Of course I missed him. I knew I was supposed to be with him forever, that we weren't supposed to stay mad at each other.

“I want to see you.”

“So we're finished being mad?”

“You were mad?”

“No. But you were mad.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said those things.”

“It's okay. I deserved it.”

“Lainey. A man should never talk to a woman that way. I was a complete jerk.”

“It's all right. Do you want to come over?”

“Sure,” he said. “Give me like ten minutes.”

After we hung up, I felt good for about a minute and then I felt a little sick to my stomach.

 

I didn't want to think about my birthday, because my birthday made me think of my mother. I knew that was dumb. My birthday should have been all about me. But all my happy memories of my mother seemed to happen on my birthday.

On my birthdays I got to eat what I wanted and do what I wanted, and Mom wouldn't tell me no. I wore a tiara and Mom called me Queen Lainey.

On my sixth birthday I wanted a Care Bears marathon. Mom went to the store and bought all the VHS tapes she could find, and we sat on the couch in our pajamas and watched them all day long, only taking a break to watch
Heartstrings
with Grandma Elaine.

On my seventh birthday I wanted to race go-carts
because I'd seen them on TV and become obsessed with them. I also asked that Daddy Steve leave for the whole day. Mom didn't like it, but she said, “Okay, Lainey, it's your birthday.” I heard him get out of bed and leave around eleven thirty the night before. I heard Mom yell, “Oh, get over it, Steve, it's her birthday!” and then the door slammed shut behind him. The next night I heard him come home a few minutes after midnight.

On my eighth birthday I wanted to do over Christmas because Christmas the year before had really sucked. Daddy Steve had gotten drunk and ruined everything. Mom got the boxes of decorations out of the hall closet. We put up the fake tree and decorated it with lights and ornaments. I climbed up on a chair and stuck the angel on top. Mom wrapped my birthday presents and we left them there all day while we baked cookies and drank cocoa. Of course I said that Daddy Steve had to leave for the whole day again. Except that year he didn't come back. He'd left Mom a few times before, so it wasn't all that surprising. But a month later she met Daddy Jerry, and he was a thousand times better than Daddy Steve—so when Daddy Steve begged Mom to take him back, she had enough sense to say no.

On my ninth birthday Mom went to camp with me. It wasn't a real camp—just a day program through the rec council. We played games and took art and dance lessons and sometimes had guest visitors, like the woman who came from the petting zoo. Mom went with me to
art class, and I showed her the painting of a chameleon that I was working on. We ate lunch together in the cafeteria. She played tag with us on the playground. That night I wanted to bake a birthday cake instead of buying one from the store, and I asked Daddy Jerry to help. That made Mom happy.

On my tenth birthday Mom asked what I wanted to do, and I said that I wanted french toast for breakfast and then I wanted to go to the beach. We went out for breakfast, and then we changed into our bathing suits and got in the car and drove for three hours.

Back then I didn't understand the concept of the off-season. The only times we'd ever been to Ocean City had been in October or March, when the prices weren't jacked up, when the whole place wasn't swarming with people. For the first half hour I walked around scowling, but then Mom grabbed my hand and said, “Isn't this great, Lainey? It's like all these people came to the beach to help us celebrate your birthday.”

We swam in the ocean and then we made an ugly sand castle. I wanted chicken nuggets for lunch, and we had to walk to three different restaurants to find some. We kept trying because it was my birthday. Any other day we would have gone to the first restaurant, and Mom would have said, “For God's sake, Lainey, just pick something on the menu or I'm ordering for you.”

On my eleventh birthday we went to a bunch of different museums. That was the year they put me in the
smart classes in school, and I was trying my best to be more cultured. Mom read the little plaques by all the paintings and acted very interested. Then we had sundaes for dinner, because I said so.

My twelfth birthday was my first birthday after I met Kara. We had an all-day slumber party with Mom, watching movies and reading magazines and playing truth or dare.

On my thirteenth birthday Kara and I had a crush on the guy who worked the shoe counter at the bowling alley, so Kara, Mom, and I went bowling for his entire shift. We ate pizza and got two pitchers of soda. As we walked across the alley to return our shoes, Kara whispered, “I dare you to tell him it's your birthday.” When we got up to the counter, I handed him back my shoes and said, “It's my birthday.” He smiled and said, “Happy birthday.” And then Kara and I ran away squealing.

On my fourteenth birthday we went back to Ocean City, and Kara came along. We walked the boardwalk and sat on the beach and pointed out cute guys. Mom got in on it too, even though she had Carl at home. We laughed a lot.

On my fifteenth birthday things were different. I'd been dating Riley for a couple of months. He knew my birthday was coming up and he wanted to take me out. So when Mom asked me, “Have you thought about what you want to do for your birthday this year?” I said, “Oh, Riley's taking me somewhere.” We had Collin by then, so I don't think Mom really wanted to take me out anyway.

I've already forgotten what Riley and I did on my birthday that year, or for the next two years. We probably had dinner or saw a movie or went out with some of our friends. One year he played his guitar for me and sang. He didn't like his singing voice, so he never sang for anyone except me.

My birthdays with Riley didn't stand out because with Riley, every day I could count on him to keep his promises and to care about doing what I wanted to do. But Mom? With Mom it was an annual event.

 

My eighteenth birthday started out pretty painlessly. I woke up before anyone else and went to work. Rodney didn't know it was my birthday, so he couldn't make a big deal out of it. Kara and Christine called me using the three-way feature so they could sing “Happy Birthday” to me at the same time. I could hear Wallace in the background on Christine's line singing too.

When I walked out to the parking lot after work, I saw Riley leaning against the Grand Am. I wondered what he was doing at the mall in the middle of the day, and then I noticed the roses. He actually had a dozen roses. I groaned.

“Riley,” I said as I walked up.

“What?” he asked with a smile. “It's just flowers. They're pretty. See?”

I took the flowers from him. “Thank you.” They were pretty now, but in three days they would be wilted and
dead. I hated when he bought me flowers. Who wanted to receive a present that was going to die?

“I gotta get back to work. But I'm going to pick you up at seven tonight. Okay?”

I nodded.

I laid the flowers on the passenger seat, and on my way home I called Kara and told her about the flowers so she could remind me how sweet Riley was. It wasn't that I didn't already know, but for some reason listening to Kara swoon made me feel really good.

 

“Happy birthday!” Vallery turned around and yelled as soon as I walked in the door.

“How did you know?” I grumbled. I walked past her into the kitchen and found a vase for the roses.

“That's a really stupid question,” she said. She got up off the couch and followed me. “So what are you and Riley doing tonight?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I don't know. Dinner, I guess.”

“Apparently, your friends are coming here for cake afterward. Riley just informed me of this an hour ago.”

“If that was supposed to be a surprise,” I said to Vallery, “you just ruined it.”

“Wouldn't you rather be warned?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” My friends coming over for cake definitely hadn't been what I'd had in mind when I'd said I wanted to stay in. And who were my friends, anyway? Just Riley and Kara? Plus Christine and Wallace?
Plus the entire Old Crew? Why couldn't Riley listen to anything I said?

 

When we pulled up in front of Riley's house for dinner that night, the house looked dark and empty.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

Riley grinned. “Did you think I was inviting you over for dinner with my whole family?”

“Yes.” I sighed but he didn't notice.

He led me to the dining room. The table had already been set for the two of us. Riley's mom kept two fancy candles in the middle of the table that were never lit, but tonight they were.

“What's for dinner?” I asked.

“Spaghetti with meatballs, salad, and garlic bread.”

“Smells good,” I said.

“Just give me a few minutes to heat it up.”

I scratched the tablecloth with my fingernails and waited. The tablecloth was new—the Carters usually didn't eat with one on the table. Riley hummed as he stirred the spaghetti. I tried to ignore him.

I knew something was wrong. Not with Riley, but with me. It was my birthday, and my boyfriend had gone through the trouble of getting rid of his family, making me a nice dinner, and organizing a surprise gathering of my alleged friends. Yet I was so irritated, I had to bite my tongue to keep from biting his head off. Something was definitely wrong with me.

Just act normal and get through dinner,
I told myself.
Then tell Kara all about it, and she'll tell you what a great boyfriend you have, and you'll get out of this funk and be normal again. Eventually.

Riley carried two plates over to the table. He smiled at me. I smiled back, and I wondered if he could tell the difference between my fake smile and my real one.

After dinner Riley carried our dishes to the sink and then stood beside the dining room table, looking at me. “We still have forty-five minutes to kill,” he said.

“Until what?” I asked, playing dumb.

He grinned. “Your surprise. We have
forty-five
whole minutes.”

He held out his hand and pulled me up. We walked down the hallway to his room. If I'd been paying more attention, I would have noticed that look in his eye and realized what it meant. Instead, I looked at my watch and wondered what was on television.

But then as Riley pulled me down onto his bed, I realized what he had in mind. It had been almost a month since we'd done anything more than kiss, and obviously he'd stopped being concerned that my mother was spying on us from Heaven.

“Oh,” I said. “Oh.”

“What?” Riley asked.

“Uh…”

He looked closely at me. “You're still not comfortable with it?” he guessed.

“I don't know,” I said. Like I'd been the one who hadn't wanted to do it in the first place.

“You don't know?”

I shook my head.

He sat up and put his arm around me. “We can talk about it, if you want.”

“No,” I said quickly.

“Lainey, you don't have to pretend that you're not hurting.”

“There's nothing to talk about. Jesus Christ. Can't you ever listen to a single thing I say?”

“I do listen. But I know you better than that.”

“You don't know me at all. God.”

“Lainey. Come on. What are you talking about?”

I couldn't help it. All of the words I knew I shouldn't say came tumbling out of my mouth. “Well, if you knew me at all, you'd know how I feel about roses, and you'd know that you're the one who loves spaghetti, not me, and you'd know it drives me crazy how you're so damn full of yourself all the time.”

Riley didn't say anything for a minute. He was smiling. A tight smile. His fake smile. “Lainey, I've had about enough of this. Really.”

I nodded. “Me too.”

“You've had enough of…what?”

“This. You.”

“Trying to be supportive and understanding? Right. Okay.”

“That's exactly what I mean!” I shouted. “Even when I tell you that you do something wrong, you insist that you do everything right. Your ego is
enormous
.”

“I'm honestly not sure how much more of this I can handle.”

“You're not sure how much
you
can handle? Jesus, Riley. Are you just trying to dump me before I dump you?”

He turned to look at me. “Is that what we're doing here?”

I sighed.

“All of a sudden. On your birthday.”

“It's not all of a sudden. I've been fed up for a while.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

Because I don't want to be my mother.

Because it's crazy to obsess about someone you're never going to see again.

Because I'm supposed to be with you.

“Well, your timing is excellent,” Riley said before I could figure out how to respond. “There are about two dozen people waiting at your house for cake and ice cream. And we're going to show up and act normal. Okay?”