Three Sisters (10 page)

Scott dunked his doughnut. “From what Liz said, it’s a letting-down thing, a weekend thing. I knew a guy like that in college. Straight arrow all week, then kaflooey, totally blitzed every weekend.”

In the truck again, he said, “One more place, then I really have to get back.” He pulled up in front of a little store. “You want to try this place?”

She leaned forward to look at the lettering on the

window. HAMMAR AND SAWYER CONSTRUCTION CO.

“Your office! You need someone?” she blurted.

“What? Oh! I’m sorry, Karen, I didn’t mean—it was just a joke.”

“No, that’s okay.” She was embarrassed, talked fast. “Can I see it? The office? I really want to see your office.”

“Hey, it’s nothing special.”

The room was cluttered—two desks, a drawing board, a huge metal filing cabinet, a scattering of chairs. Scott showed her some plans he was working on. “It could be a big job if the client likes what I come up with. … Is this boring for you?”

“No, I’m not bored, no, not at all.”

“You won’t hurt my feelings.”

“Never with you,” she blurted. Good grief, good grief… .

“Sweet.” He kissed her on the cheek.

At home, she didn’t say anything about meeting Scott. Oh, by the way, Liz, I was buying socks for Tobi and guess who I met? … Yes … and then he drove me around to look for work. And we stopped in his office. What was so hard about saying that? Why didn’t she say it? He showed me plans for a house he’s going to build. I’m sure you’ve seen them. …

Did he kiss you?

Only on the cheek, Liz! Just a quick little kiss. Sort of a peck. Really. Like an uncle or a brother… .

Maybe not tell Liz at all. Try it out on Tobi first. Who would roll her eyes. He kissed you on the cheek? Oh, biiiiiig deal! Or would she? Tobi knew what it meant to want something—someone—no one else wanted you to have. She was still seeing Jason, probably more than ever, but she couldn’t even bring up his name without starting a ruckus in the family. For a while it had been mostly their mother, but even her father had gotten on her case now.

“Tobi, darling… .” The other day, going past Tobi’s bedrooom, Karen had heard him talking in that slightly spaced out, patient way of his. Telling Tobi what she already knew. That Jason was older, more experienced, had been married. “Your relationship is not appropriate.” To everything, Tobi had barely replied. “I know… . That’s right… . Uh-huh.” At the time, Karen had felt a little sorry for her father because he was so sincere about wanting to straighten out Tobi, but now she didn’t blame Tobi one bit for stonewalling. Appropriate? Tobi was in love.

And Karen? She wasn’t ready to go that far yet. But, still, was it that much different with her and Scott? The family would laugh if they knew he’d kissed her. They wouldn’t take it seriously, not one of them, not even Tobi. Laugh, she thought. Go ahead, all of you. But I’m not laughing. A brotherly kiss? For him, maybe. But me, I wish he’d kissed me on the lips, that’s what I really wish.

Sixteen

Saturday, Karen was in the cellar loading the washing machine when Liz called her to the phone. “Hello?”

“Karen, this is Patty of Patty’s Pretties on Jordan Avenue. You put in an application for work. Can you come down for an interview today? Say, in about an hour?”

“All right.” She hung up and panicked. Jordan Avenue was all the way across town. And Patty’s Pretties? She hardly remembered it. Maybe one of the places Scott had taken her. “Liz! Will you drive me somewhere?” How lucky Liz wasn’t working today! She ran up to her room, pulled on a skirt, pinned up her hair to look older, then earrings, lip gloss, a touch of blush.

“What kind of a place is it?” Liz said, in the car.

Karen craned her neck to inspect herself in the mirror. “I don’t know. It might be a little jewelry place.”

“Jordan Ave. is over near where Scott lives.”

“Mmmm.” She and Scott are celebrating her new job, sitting across from each other in a booth, their feet touching under the table. He leans toward her, touches her hand. I can’t talk to anybody else the way I talk to you, Karen… .

You can tell me anything, Scott… .

I know. Karen, darling. Neither one of us wants to hurt Liz, but what can we do? …

“Drive a little faster, Liz.”

“You don’t have to be there at an exact moment, Karen.”

“My first real job offer, I don’t want to flub it.”

“Try to be calm. Breathe deep, that helps.”

“Do I look all right?”

“You look fine. Relax.”

The warm weather had everyone out in the streets. Packs of dogs roamed around, kids were playing softball. A couple of boys were laid out like fish fillets on top of a car, reflectors held to their faces.

Liz pulled up in-front of the store. “Well, good luck.”

It wasn’t a jewelry store, after all, although it had some jewelry. It was more of a variety store, selling scarves, greeting cards, all sorts of little knickknacks and gifts. She walked through a cloud of hanging chimes to where a woman in a long white dress was dusting the glass counters.

Karen smiled nervously. “I’m Karen Freed. You asked me to come down to see about the job?”

“Right, Karen. I’m Monica, but when I’m here,

you call me Patty.” She looked Karen over. “Can you go to work immediately, Karen? I need someone to start Monday.”

“Monday? Well … no. I’m in school.”

“I thought—how old are you, Karen?”

She cleared her throat. “I’ll be sixteen on my next birthday, Moni—Patty… .”

Patty or Monica flicked the dustcloth over a display of glass animals. “You’re big, that makes you look older. So—you’re still in school.”

“Yes, I’m looking for a summer job. Do you need someone for the summer?”

“I’m sorry, I really want someone full-time.”

In the car, Liz patted her knee. “It took me ages to find my first job, too.” She turned a corner. “There’s Scott’s street, let’s go see if he’s home.”

“Hawthorne?” Karen said, sitting up.

“The next one over, Oak. You’ve been over to his place with me.”

“No.” Karen looked out the window.

Oak Street was mostly two-family houses with porches up and down. Scott was out on the street washing the pickup truck, bare-chested, wearing faded gray shorts, a pair of rubber clogs.

They got out of the car and crossed the street. Liz tiptoed up behind Scott and grabbed him around the waist. “Ooof!” He turned around. “Well, both of you are here—great. Look at you, Karen. All dressed up.”

“Doesn’t she look nice?” Liz said.

They went up to his apartment. He lived on the second floor. The stairs were narrow and Karen walked behind him and Liz. They walked into the

living room. A big room. A long, green couch, a stereo on the floor, a couple of easy chairs. In the kitchen Scott brought out beer and soda. Liz seemed familiar with everything, went into the little pantry off the kitchen for crackers, put cheese on a plate, took out knives from a drawer.

Scott took a long swallow of the beer. He’d put on a shirt. “I thought you were poeming all day today,” he said to Liz.

“That was the plan but—you know … and Karen needed a ride… .”

“No flow, huh?”

“Oh, it was okay for about half an hour. Then I got stuck on a word, one single stinky little word. A skunk of a word.”

Scott smiled at Karen. “Ordinary people like us don’t have those kinds of problems. So you got called for a job, Karen?”

“Yes, but it was a mistake—”

“I ought to write a poem about skunky words,” Liz said.

“- she thought I wanted full-time work,” Karen finished.

“A-ha, we add that one to our list,” Scott said.

“What list?” Liz looked from Karen to Scott. “What’s so funny?”

“Karen and I are putting together a new list for The Guinness Book.” Scott told Liz about driving Karen around to look for work.

Liz tapped her mouth. “I didn’t hear about that.”

“No. I forgot to tell you.” Karen picked up the soda, finished it in one gulp.

“You know what I was thinking, Liz?” Scott

draped his arm over Liz’s chair. “I’d really like to get a dog.”

Liz was still watching Karen, still tapping her lip. Was she thinking about her poem? A poem about skunks and words? Or a poem about skunks and sisters?

(Seventeen

Liz’s freckled fingers tapped the wheel in a little dance. “Do you think we’ve waited long enough?” Her hair was loose; she was wearing a pale green dress. She looked like a sea goddess, all green and gold and dappled.

Karen cast a sidelong glance at Liz. She hadn’t forgotten that sister-skunk look Liz had shot at her last week. As soon as Tobi showed up, Karen decided, she’d give up the front seat. For once she wouldn’t mind sitting in back and letting Liz and Tobi have each other all to themselves.

“Let’s wait five more minutes,” she said, craning her neck out the car window. Had Tobi forgotten that they were all supposed to meet their parents at the New India Restaurant for dinner? A double celebration: Karen’s father’s birthday and her parents’ anniversary.

“I say, let’s go,” Liz said. She hated being late for anything. She backed out of the driveway.

Since that afternoon last week in Scott’s apartment, she and Liz had not been alone together. And now here they were, in about as cramped quarters as you could get, stuck together in Liz’s little VW bug. Karen wriggled uncomfortably in the seat. One way or another, she realized, she had managed to avoid close contact with her sister for days. That was odd! She’d been acting guilty. But of what? And why? She hadn’t done anything—as long as you didn’t count thoughts.

They drove in silence. The restaurant was north of the city, all the way out on Route 11. “What a funny place for a restaurant,” Karen said finally. “Far far out in the boo-boo-booonies.”

Liz smiled faintly. Karen smoothed her skirt, checked her fingernails. Her hair was up again. Twisting the clip through it, she remembered Scott’s saying, You’re all dressed up! He was coming to dinner, too. Don’t think about him. An impossible command.

“It’s a new restaurant,” Liz said. “Somebody, one of Scott’s customers, mentioned it to him.”

Why had Liz said Scott in that odd tone of voice? Or had she sounded perfectly normal? Put those questions in the paranoia question box.

Sometimes Karen couldn’t tell what Liz was thinking. Correction. Most times. Liz was beautiful like cool dappled water and that was what you saw, not the bottom, not the sandy, gritty, stony, rough stuff. Which was probably why that sister-skunk look on her face had impressed itself so on Karen. Now Tobi—she showed everything on her face. You always knew if she was mad, sad, glad, whatever.

As for her, Karen, what was it Marisa had said

to her once? “Karen, give yourself a rest. You think too much about every little thing. With you, everything is chewed up.”

“Like dog biscuit,” she’d agreed.

Why couldn’t she accept things? Let them happen, let them be whatever they were going to be. What was it that old Beatles song Tobi liked so much said? Let it be, let it be. For instance, in a little while she’d see Scott. That was nice. No reason to fall apart. She could handle it. A smile. A few words. Hello, Scott. Nice to see you. Six easy words. After that, relax, lean back, don’t say anything. Silence was admirable. Scott would notice how quiet and thoughtful she was, he’d look at her, that quiet, sympathetic look as if the two of them were completely in accord… .

She jerked upright. She was doing it again … fading out, falling into a satisfying fantasy about Scott, and with Liz right next to her. Had Liz just said something? She glanced at her sister. Some people were supposed to be super sensitive to thoughts. They could tune in. What if Liz were one of those? What if she was tuned in to everything Karen thought? Or, more to the point, tuned in to everything Karen thought about Scott?

What she had to do, Karen told herself, was concentrate on something else, put Scott right out of her mind. Watch the white line in the road. Notice the color of those reddish bushes in the ditch. How about that faded sign they’d just passed in front of a farmhouse? PIK UR OWN STRAWBERIES. In April? Those people would never win a spelling contest, either. See how easy it was. For at least five minutes she hadn’t given Scott one stray thought.

“Oh, good, here it is,” Liz said.

The New India Restaurant was a plain white building, set in the middle of a field like a barn. Beyond it, a line of yellow willow trees. A cow bellowed. Another car turned into the lot behind them. “There’s Mom.”

“I knew she’d be on time.” Liz locked the car. “Scott should show up any moment.”

“What about Jason? Is he coming?”

“I don’t think Mom invited him.”

“Oh! Tobi’s not going to like that.”

Their mother came up, combing her hair. Her blouse had pulled out of her skirt. “Hi! Am I late?”

“You can’t be late, you’re the guest of honor.” Liz tucked her blouse for her.

“Where’s Tobi?” Their mother peered into the VW. “She didn’t come with you? She didn’t come home from school?”

“Mom, let’s go in,” Liz said. “Maybe she’s here already.”

She wasn’t. The restaurant was cool, dim, and nearly empty. Pink tablecloths, the gleam of silver, bud vases, each one with a single pink carnation. A man with dark, smooth black hair bowed. “Follow me, please.” Refined English accent. They sat down and another man poured water.

“We’ll have a bottle of the house white wine,” her mother said. She glanced at her watch. “Grandma’s coming with Daddy. He could have picked Tobi up, too. What is she up to? In some ways, she’s so scatterbrained—”

“Tobi?” Karen said. “Mom, she’s not-”

“Well, not scatterbrained, but you know what I

mean,” she said, turning up her hands in appeal to Liz. “Just sort of—hectic?” Liz laughed. “Yeah, Tobi’s hectic, all right.” Karen drew patterns in the tablecloth with a fork. Maybe Tobi was with Jason. In his studio? She imagined it big and bare, white walls and lots of windows on the north side. Artists liked northern light. She’d always wondered why. There’d be a skylight, too, and a bed right under it so he could look up at night and see the stars. Besides the bed, maybe just a few chairs. And his easel, of course. No, not an easel; he wasn’t a painter. What did sculptors work with? Clay? Patting little balls of clay the way they used to when they were kids? Karen had never been any good at that; the only thing she could make were snakes. Maybe he was working in marble. She could imagine him in his jeans and desert boots climbing up the side of a hunk of marble, chipping away at it with a hammer. And Tobi? Where was she in this picture? Sitting on a chair, gazing up at Jason admiringly? Uh-uh! That wasn’t Tobi’s style. Washing his dirty dishes at the sink? Scratch that one, too. Try again. This time, the picture that popped into Karen’s head was of Tobi and Jason together on the bed beneath the skylight.