A Skeleton in the Family (4 page)

S
id didn't understand.

“So what if I waited for hours, hoping you'd find a few spare seconds for me?” Sid said in an aggrieved tone. “There's no need to worry about me staying up all night.”

I'd gone upstairs as soon as Madison had biked off to school, and I was just as aggrieved that he didn't appreciate it. “Number one, you don't sleep. Number two, you were reading the Harry Potter series again, so you weren't exactly bored.” The stack of books was teetering right next to his chair, so it hadn't been hard to figure that out.

“Coccyx, I meant to put those up!” When I'd been a kid, my mother had told Sid his language was too salty, so he'd come up with his own invective. If a bone's name just happened to sound dirtier than it was, so much the better.

“Anyway, you know it's not going to be easy for me to sneak up here with Madison in the house. If you'd just let me introduce you two—”

“I'm not ready for that.”

“But why—?”

“Tell me about the job! Did Parker put you on the tenure track right away, or does he want you to prove yourself for a while first?”

As distractions went, it was a good one. I sighed, and said, “Don't get too used to having me around, bone boy. I'm good for the rest of this semester, and I think next, but after that there's no telling where I'll be.”

“Don't give up yet! A tenure-track job could open up at any moment.”

“As much as I would like to see that, and to put a video of the event on YouTube, it wouldn't make any difference. Once you're an adjunct, that's all you ever are.”

“I don't believe it! You're smart, you're a fabulous teacher, and you are going to get your dream job soon. I just know it.”

“You're awfully optimistic for a dead guy.”

“I can't help it. It's the time of year. The first day of school. New books and crayons. The smell of chalk and freshly varnished floors!”

“Dude, it's not even close to the first day of school, nobody uses chalk in college, and I don't think anybody varnishes tile floors.”

“Then what does it smell like?”

“Desperation. Students who want to do well, grad students finishing their dissertations, researchers who need results to keep their grants—”

“Adjuncts who are afraid they won't have a job next semester?”

I nodded. “God, Sid, I hate this. Madison is already settling in and I know she's hoping to keep the same batch of friends for two years in a row. I'm afraid she's going to ask for a dog again.”

“A dog?” he said, sounding worried, as well he might.

We tend to keep Sid away from dogs, because dogs tend to have one of two reactions to him. The most common is stark terror, as the dog recognizes that something is walking around that really shouldn't be. Less frequently, we encounter a dog who thinks that he and Sid should have the traditional dog-bone relationship.

I said, “Most kids want games and clothes and computers—all my kid wants is a freaking home, and I can't even give her that.”

“Come on, Georgia, it'll work out—it always does.”

“My life doesn't work out, Sid. I scrape by, that's all. I wouldn't even be doing that if Mom and Phil and Deborah weren't helping me all the time.”

“I'd help if I could—”

“You do help! You're the only one I can blow off steam with. I would have exploded years ago if it weren't for you.” The fact that I'd moved so often meant I didn't have many close friends, and while my family was supportive, they didn't understand what I was up against. My parents thought all I had to do was work hard, and maybe whip out a research project, and a school would snap me up in a second. Deborah thought I should get a job doing something else, which might be reasonable if I knew how to do anything else.

“I know what you need,” Sid said. “You need a movie!
Toy Story
?
Toy Story 2
? We haven't had a chance to watch
Toy Story 3
together.”

“Sid, I have work to do. I don't have time for a movie.”

But he'd already turned on the TV and stuck in a DVD.

“Fine,” I said grudgingly. “I'll watch part of it with you, but don't expect me to cheer up.” I watched it all, of course, and damned if it didn't cheer me up.

Though I'd intended to go over to McQuaid to work, I ended up lugging my laptop to the attic and hanging with Sid while I prepped for my first batch of classes.

It was cozy being up in the attic with him, actually. Sid has a comfortable setup, better than many of my apartments. He doesn't need a bed, but he has a couch, an armchair, a table, and an attic's worth of storage. For entertainment he has a TV with a DVD player, a boom box, and plenty of books.

Sid was clearly delighted to have company for the day. Technically, of course, he was always smiling, because he didn't have lips, and he was short on facial expressions in general for obvious reasons. But I know how to read him, and I could tell he was happy. I did my best to be happy, too, and not think about him being somebody else I'd disappoint if I had to move to find another job.

B
y the end of the day Wednesday, Madison and I were feeling comfortably at home. I'd seen her off to school, had a quick visit with Sid, and gone to meet my first crew of students. Since I was picking up the class in midstream, I didn't have to explain much in the way of a syllabus or expectations, but I did announce my office hours. After seeing that adjunct trying to meet with a student in the middle of the cattle pen, I'd decided to use my parents' office for such occasions. As nepotism went, it was fairly mild.

There was some grumbling in the morning class about them having to turn in an essay that week, what with the change in regime and having missed a class on Monday. So after a little wrangling, I let them off the hook. They left feeling happy and listened to, and I was just as glad that I'd have less work while I got into the swing of things. To ensure the other classes felt equally empowered, I allowed them to grumble their way to the same compromise.

In between classes, I made a couple of appearances at the adjunct office to drop off some stuff I'd brought from home, and saw with approval that Fletcher had found a way to handle his storage problems that did not involve my space.

I also took the opportunity to renew acquaintances with a physicist I'd worked with the year before and a psychologist I'd dated one term a few years earlier. It had just been an adjunct romance, and had ended amicably when he'd gotten a new job. Though he was a nice guy and a skilled kisser, I wasn't particularly interested in renewing the relationship and was just as happy when he mentioned he was seeing a French instructor.

All in all I was pleased with the day's accomplishments, enough so that when Madison swore she'd finished her homework and asked permission to accompany new BFF Samantha to Wray's for the weekly Yu-Gi-Oh! tournament, I cheerfully gave permission and money for her to grab a sub for dinner. I thought it would give me a chance to get some work done. Unfortunately, it also gave Sid another chance to try to sneak up on me as I worked at the coffee table.

This time I heard him coming down the stairs from the attic—those bony feet of his aren't exactly stealthy on bare wood steps.

I waited until he was just a couple of feet behind me before saying, “Hi, Sid.”

“Coccyx! Why won't your parents carpet the stairs?”

“How many times have you tried to sneak up on them?”

“None,” he said. “They're no fun to surprise.”

I stopped typing for a second—that had sounded a bit forlorn. “Are you not getting along with Mom and Phil?”

“Of course I am. They're great. So, what are you working on?”

“Subtle segue there.”

“I get along fine with your parents,” he said firmly. “They're just busy, that's all.”

“If you say so,” I said, resolving to ask my mother what was going on the first chance I got. “Anyway, I'm just putting together some notes for my next class.”

“Let me help.” He removed his skull from atop his shoulders and placed it onto my more normally fleshed version. “You know what they say: two heads are better than one.”

“Sid!”

“You missed a word in the second sentence.” Unlike most people, Sid could continue to talk when his head was detached.

“I was just about to fix that,” I said, “and I'd get this done a lot faster if you'd stop bugging me.”

“Okay, okay.” Sid put his skull back onto his neck, but continued to watch. “You misspelled
accommodate
.”

“Coccyx!” Great. I was reverting—I could curse whenever I wanted to. Whenever the
hell
I wanted to. I made the correction as Sid wandered over to where my mother had covered the wall with an assortment of framed family pictures. There were pictures of Deborah and me growing up, my parents at academic functions, school pictures of Madison, and of course shots of Madison's bravura performances in
The Sound of Music
and
Guys and Dolls
.

“You and Madison need to get a new picture,” Sid said.

“Uh-huh,” I said, still trying to work.

“She's really grown.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I think she's turning green.”

“No, she's not, and yes, I'm listening.” I typed a last bit of punctuation and announced, “I'm done. What do you want, Sid?”

“Can't I just come down to visit?”

“Theoretically, but if there's one thing being a mother has taught me, it's when somebody wants something. And you want something.”

“Actually, I did want to ask a favor. I heard you and Madison talking about that anime convention—”

“Do you have the house miked?”

“Eavesdropping is my hobby. Anyway, I was wondering if you'd take me, too.”

“Since when do you know anything about that stuff?”

“Since Madison left all her manga here last summer.”

With our frequent moves, Mom and Phil let both Madison and me use their house to store anything too big or too heavy to lug along from apartment to apartment. Madison's collection of Japanese comics was both, and once it had been left in the house, it was fair game for Sid.

“I've got a costume all worked out,” Sid said. “I can be Shinigami from
Soul Eater
. You know who that is, right?”

“Nope. Manga is Madison's thing. If you want to talk X-Men—”

“I haven't got the build for Wolverine or Emma Frost, thanks just the same, but I can do Shinigami. He's Lord Death. So, skull head, which I've already got, and all I need you to get for the rest is some black cloth to make a robe, some wire, and some foam rubber.”

“Sid, I know you like getting out of the house, but this isn't like Halloween.” While I'd lived at home, I'd taken Sid out trick-or-treating every year. “It'll be inside and well-lit and crowded. Plus Madison will be there. I don't think—”

I stopped when he started making Bambi eyes at me—which shouldn't have worked, since he hasn't got eyes—but he was doing a creditable job until we heard somebody at the front door.

Sid immediately skittered into his armoire.

I went into the hall, expecting to see Madison. Instead my sister Deborah was closing the door behind her.

“It's just Deborah,” I called out to Sid.

“Glad to see you, too,” Deborah said.

“I'm always glad to see a guest who rings the door like a normal person. People who walk into my home uninvited, not so much.”

“It's my parents' house, too.”

“Granted, but they are not currently in residence, and I am. Gimme the key.”

“Fine,” she said, handing it over. “I don't need it anyway.”

That was true enough—she could probably pick the lock as quickly as I could find a key in my purse.

“So, are you going to invite me in?”

“Oh, elder sister, how blessed am I that you condescend to grace my humble abode with your most bountiful presence. Pray step in and take full part of those small pleasures that I delight in offering you.”

“That's more like it.” She went into the living room and plopped down in the most comfortable chair.

It's not that I don't like Deborah, and probably vice versa, but we don't have a Hallmark-card kind of relationship.

Sid climbed out of the armoire and sat on the couch. “Deb! How do you like my new haircut?”

She ignored him, as usual. I don't think I'd seen my sister directly address Sid since she graduated from high school, at which point she'd apparently decided that Sid's existence was impossible and therefore not worth acknowledging, but Sid never gave up. I gave him a sympathetic pat as I sat next to him.

To me, Deborah said, “You and Madison all settled in?”

“Pretty much. She's off checking out the Yu-Gi-Oh! competition at the games store. Not playing mind you, just watching the other players to see who might be worth her time.”

“That's my girl!” Deborah said, and I resisted the impulse to snap that she was
my
girl. Deborah and Madison were as affectionate as Deborah and I weren't, and I didn't want to get between them. Well, maybe I did, but I knew I shouldn't.

“Thanks for stocking the kitchen for us. What do I owe you for groceries?”

“My treat. I wasn't sure when you'd get your first paycheck, and I wanted to make sure you two wouldn't go hungry.”

“I'm not broke, Deborah.”

“It's been a while between jobs, right?”

“Yes, but I've been doing some test-prep tutoring—”

She waved it away. “Don't sweat it. Business is booming, thanks to our spree of break-ins.” Only locksmiths like Deborah and the local newspaper cheered at break-ins. “You can return the favor if our positions are ever reversed.”

The words were right, but I could have done without the unspoken follow-up of
as if that would ever happen
. Since I wasn't sure if it was Deborah who wasn't saying it or me, I did say, “Thank you. It is appreciated.”

“You never bring me groceries, Deb,” Sid said. “And just look at me. I'm down to skin and bones! Minus the skin.”

Again, she didn't so much as look at him, and he threw up his hands in disgust. Literally. He managed to catch the right one again, but the left one hit the floor, so I picked it up and handed it back to him.

“How was the locksmith convention?” I asked. Had it not been for the convention taking her to Chicago, she'd have been around to help Madison and me move in. And by
help
, I meant that she'd have tried to get us to do it her way. Violence might have ensued. I was very grateful for that convention.

“Not bad. Met some people, picked up some swag, learned some things, and got drunk. The usual.”

“Have you eaten? Madison ate out, and I was thinking about calling for pizza.”

“I'd die for an order of ribs,” Sid tossed in.

“No, thanks,” Deborah said. “I just stopped by on the way home. I've got to get caught up on paperwork. I was behind even before the trip, and my assistant is great, but he can't work a spreadsheet to save his life.”

“I'm always available for data entry,” Sid offered. No response, but Sid was nothing if not persistent. “Hey, why don't you hang around and help me design my costume for Mangachusetts? I'm going to be Lord Death, and—”

“Sid!” I said. He knew I hadn't agreed to take him to the con, but Deborah spoke up before I could say so.

“Seriously, Georgia? You're going to hang out with that crowd of costumed weirdos?”

“Including your niece,” I said icily.

“It's fine for kids,” she conceded, “but you're not a kid. It's going to be at the college, right? What if somebody sees you there? How is that going to look?”

“Actually there's some serious scholarship going on in that area. At last year's Popular Culture Association conference, there were more than a dozen talks about manga and anime.”

“Yeah, and if you ever start publishing papers, that'll mean something.”

That stung, mostly because it was true. Deborah may have run as far as she could from the halls of academe, but not before she'd absorbed the mantra of
publish or perish
. I had much more practice at perishing, but would have argued the point if she hadn't gone on.

“Besides,” she said, “what if you get caught with . . . ? What if somebody sees . . . ? What if somebody sees
him
?”

“You mean Sid?”

“You know who I mean.”

“Then use his name.” Naturally, since Deborah was arguing against it, I instantly changed my mind about taking him to the con. “Anyway, you heard
Sid
—he'll be in costume. I used to take him out for Halloween every year and it was never a problem, so what's the big deal? You can come with us if you like.”

“Please. I've got better things to do with my time.” She started toward the door. “Lock up when I'm gone. You can't be too careful in the house alone.”

“She's not alone!” Sid said. “What am I, chopped liver? I mean, I don't even have a liver!”

Once again, she ignored him, and I was getting tired of it. “Deborah, why are you so rude to Sid?”

“Because the only skeleton I want hanging around is a skeleton key,” she said, and made her exit.

“Wow, Deborah made a pun,” Sid said. “I'm impressed.”

“Sid! She totally dissed you!”

He shrugged, which is pretty noisy the way he does it, and said, “I'm used to it. Shall we discuss costume construction?”

Having talked myself into letting him go just to spite Deborah, I couldn't very well back out of it, but if I was going to be springing for costume materials, I should skip the pizza. “Let me make a sandwich first. Then you can tell me what you need.”