All We Know of Heaven (17 page)

She did falter a moment when Danny pulled up in front of the school. She threw back her head so that no tears would ruin her eye makeup. “Do you recognize it?”

“I don’t remember how it looks. But I know I was happy here,” she said.

Couples were scurrying toward the entrance, but Coach had given Danny his faculty permit so they could go in at the side door. There was a long breath of silence when they walked slowly into the gym together. Then, slowly, every one began to approach them, gently touching Maureen’s arm, saying how beautiful she looked. Brittany W. even said she wished she could be that thin. They sat at a table and drank ginger ale punch, and gradually Maureen’s heart slowed down. With Molly seated beside her, looking like a costume doll in her hoop skirt, Danny slipped away and drank a shot of vodka with Ev outside the gym. A wad of bubblegum to cover the smell and he felt entirely at ease.

At nine, the court did the grand march down the white satin carpet with their dates.

As they waited in a row—Taylor, Sheila Braden, Maria Brent, Abbey Jewell, Francie Castellucci, and Lisanne Co lawitz, the odds-on favorite—Mr. Beckwith got up to read the name.

There was a drum roll, and then he opened the envelope handed to him by the president of the faculty senate.

“Well,” he said. “Well. By vote of the student body, this year’s king of the junior prom is Mark Shessel. And this year’s queen is . . . Lisanne Colawitz.”

Lisanne took a deep breath and smiled as last year’s queen placed the tiara on her long, blond hair. She didn’t act surprised. She acted as if it were her due. Everyone cheered and whistled. Danny had to admit Lisanne had a body that wouldn’t quit. She took Mark Shessel’s arm and licked her teeth to pose for pictures—when everyone no ticed that Mr. Beckwith was still standing on the stage at the mike.

“Before the traditional dance, I, um, have a second an nouncement to make,” he said. “This is untraditional. The faculty senate and Key Club have unanimously agreed to bestow a second honor at this event. They have chosen a prom princess from the sophomore class. And that girl is . . . Maureen O’Malley.” He looked out over the lights. “Maureen, are you here tonight?”

Maureen was so stunned that she couldn’t answer or even get out of the chair. Assuming that she felt weak, Danny helped her to her feet. Maureen glimpsed the look of shock and rage that passed over Lisanne Colawitz’s face before she smiled widely and began to clap. Sheila recovered in a second, and Taylor jumped up and down.

The rest of the kids stomped and clapped, with far more gusto than they’d shown for Lisanne.

Slowly, Maureen made her way to the stage, leaning heavily on Danny’s arm, and waited while the vice princi pal, Joan Karls, brought out a bouquet of white roses, a ti ara, and a sash with
PROM PRINCESS
etched in blue lettering.

Mark Shessel’s comment was pure Mark. As quarterback for three years, he was used to untoward attention. The red velvet crown on his head made him look like someone out of a cookie commercial.

“I want to thank everybody out there for having such good taste—in me,” he said. When the giggles died down, he added, “What I really want to say is that Lisanne is the queen of queens and everybody knows it. But I would give this crown back to see Maureen’s face again when Mr. Beckwith said her name.”

People applauded wildly.

Lisanne said, “I want to thank everyone in Bigelow, and especially the student senate and Bigelow, for this honor. I really feel I represent Bigelow and hope that I can be the best we have to offer in my year as queen.” She stopped, then added, “And we all know what Maureen has gone through, so this is a nice surprise for her.”

“They expect you to say something,” Danny whispered. “I can not say,” Maureen told him urgently. “No one

knows I talk like this.”

“You’ll do fine. Go slow and look right at me.” He lifted her onto the stage as Coach and Mrs. O’Malley, summoned by a frantic cell phone call, tore in through the door.

Maureen smiled and leaned on her cane.

“I know,” she said, and drew a deep breath. “I know that this is not me. I mean, for me. Not really. I know it’s because this thing happened to me. But I am.” She paused again. “Happy that all of you let this happen. It might not

be fair to Lissy and Mark because this is their night. So many things aren’t fair, though. Bridget would be here if things were fair. I am happy because this and everything else made me feel not like an old lady tonight. I feel like a happy kid. And I did not . . .” Maureen looked down at Danny. “I haven’t felt like a happy kid for a very long time. Thank you.”

As she left the stage, Maureen was engulfed by a sea of teachers and kids who kissed her and congratulated her. After Lisanne and Mark, she and Danny posed under the phony rose arbor for a prom photo; and the
Bigelow Beacon
took a picture that would be on front pages all over America by Sunday morning—even before Thursday’s
Beacon
was published in town. The picture in the
Beacon
, under the headline “Our People’s Princess!,” would be twice the size of the rightful king and queen’s.

When the photos were over, Maureen and Danny left. Maureen was visibly drooping, her eyes hardly open. It was only ten o’clock. In the car, she relaxed, took off her satin headband and the band across her chest. She ruffled her hair with her fingers.

“Do I get to keep this?” she asked.

“I think there’s never going to be another one. So I guess it’s yours.”

“Maybe I’ll do two in a row,” Maureen said with a laugh. Danny asked, “Are you happy?”

She asked, “Were you in on this?”

“No way. I swear. I was as surprised as you.”

“Promise? Real?”

“I promise. Did you feel happy, though?” “Yes,” she said. “I am feeling happy.” “You don’t sound happy.”

“I am.”

“What would make you happy?” “If I knew it. Was. Real.”

“They all sounded like it was real,” Danny said.

“I don’t mean that,” Maureen answered. She turned in her seat and looked at him in the way he remembered, that open-flower face that invited anyone to hurt her or to love her.

An hour later, they drove to a Kwick Stop far out in the country, where no one knew either of them, and Danny made a purchase. Then he and Maureen slipped into a ski resort that was closed for the summer. As he spread out his blanket, Danny reminded himself that he had spent part of almost every day with this girl for the past five months— and before that he’d known her for most of his life. So it wasn’t really their first date.

On Danny’s picnic blanket, in a cove of small pine trees, they made love.

Afterward, they held each other tight and cried.

Neither of them knew if this was right, or if it was the beginning or the end. It was impossible not to think of Bridget. But Maury was right.

They were the ones who were alive.

. . .

A week later, when she heard the doorbell ring, Maureen opened the door to receive a package. It was only when she saw the horror on the man’s face that she remembered she was wearing only her underwear. She simply hadn’t remembered to get dressed. A doorbell rang, so she an swered. By the time Jeannie got downstairs, Maureen was huddled in the laundry room with her face in her hands. Her father had come running, but too late. Why had she opened the door?

The mailman lived on Sweeney Street, near Taylor’s house, and it was his wife who told Taylor’s mother. Tay lor told Maria and made her swear not to tell anyone else. And by that night, fifty kids were texting each other about Maureen the Queen and her nudie act.

Evan Brock was afraid to tell Danny, afraid someone else would first. As it turned out, he was at bat when the catcher murmured, “I wish my prom date answered the door naked.” Danny ignored him, popped up a high fly, and jogged back to the bench, where he asked Evan what the hell the guy from Ludding was talking about. Evan had no choice but to tell him. Then Danny had no choice, at the end of the game, but to ask the guy to take a walk. The catcher was on his ass in the dust, rubbing his jaw, when Danny turned on his heel to get on the bus.

But before he could, the catcher said, “Is it better with a gimp?”

In an instant, Evan Brock jumped the catcher, the first baseman was all over Danny, and both teams stormed off

the bus to get in on the rumble. Danny ended up with a three-day suspension and had to sit out the playoffs. The catcher had to miss the next game.

But that would have been the end of it if someone hadn’t posted a photo of Maureen, smiling shyly in her tiara, on top of a gross topless photo on MyPlace.

No one knew who sent the picture to Maureen.

P A R T III
‌

maureen and danny

long winter
‌

“I said no,” Dave Carmody repeated. “It’s bad for you, it’s bad for her, and it’s bad for business. That’s not why it mat ters, but it’s true.” Danny and Dave were loading slabs of sod onto the big garden truck outside Dave’s greenhouse. The truck was new and the name of his dad’s business, Green With Envy, was stenciled on both sides.

It was June 10; and despite Danny’s efforts to keep ev erything low-key, the word about him and Maureen was out.

It was way out. Parents knew.

“Dad, it has nothing to do with you,” Danny said evenly. “Everything that has to do with you has to do with me. It’s already gotten you suspended, which would have been

on your record permanently if I hadn’t been able to con vince Old Beckwith there were special circumstances. You’re only seventeen. While you live under my roof . . .” Dave Carmody stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. When he started again, his tone was down in the lower registers, gentler. “Danny, you’re a great kid. You’ve got a big heart. I know you want this poor girl to feel accepted. I know Coach is grateful to you. But enough is enough. Sym pathy only goes so far.”

“Why do you think she’s with me out of sympathy?” Danny asked, knowing it would piss off his dad.

“Listen, smart ass. I told you what my feeling is on this, and I expect you to pay attention. You have state the year after next, and a good chance for a full ride if you pay atten tion to your work and your sport. You don’t have time to be the white knight and handicapped driver to Bill’s messed- up daughter.”

“She’s not messed up.”

“Danny,” said his father, sitting down on the truck’s tailgate. “I know what goes on. Steve Collins’s wife told me about the chances of her ever being normal, back when they thought she was Bridget. I don’t mean she would gos sip about Steve’s patient. I doubt if he ever told her the specifics. But she used to be a nurse herself. And she said she felt so bad for you because it would be awful if Bridget died and awful if she lived. I know. I do their plantings. And I know why you got into that fight. It’s a terrible thing. I don’t fault you there. But you’ve done your best. You’ve

fulfilled your obligation to Bridget.”

“We don’t think of it that way,” Danny said, hefting more sod onto the truck. He got his gloves out of his pockets. Maureen cringed at dirt under his nails, and during June he could scrub them with a brush all day and not get it off. “‘We’?” his father shouted. “So it’s ‘we’ now? Listen, as long as you’re in high school, the only ‘we’ in your life is your mother and brothers and me. Do you get that? Am I clear? I don’t know if you’re doing this just to get to your mother and me or not. You’ve never given us a day of trou

ble. Let’s keep it that way.”

“I’m not going to stop seeing Maury.” “This discussion is over.”

“That’s fine. But I’m still going to see Maury.”

Suddenly, Danny was spun around by his father’s two powerful hands gripping his shoulders. Danny was strong for his size, but no match for Dave, who had five inches and forty pounds on him. “Son. Look at me. What in the name of all that’s holy do you see in a girl who can’t even take care of her own . . . personal needs?” Danny looked away, but Dave cornered him. “That girl is going to be a burden on her parents all her life, Danny. You heard what Dr. Collins told the Flannerys. The brain does not get better!”

“You have no idea what she’s like! Do you think she wears diapers or something? You’re wrong. If Mom would let me ask her over here, you wouldn’t think she was any different from anyone else unless she got nervous and started for getting her words. She’s practicing driving. . . .”

“That’s great,” said Dave. “Maybe someone else can get killed.”

“Cut it out, Dad! Listen to yourself! Maureen has a brain injury. She uses a cane. She limps. Maybe she’s never going to take pre-calc the way she could have before. But she’s taking piano lessons. She’s learning to read music, learning fast! She’s as smart as she ever was in some ways. She’s smarter than me! You’re a Jaycee, Dad. Isn’t that all about helping kids like Maureen live full lives? Or is that just bull? What if she had cancer? Would you want me to drop her because she had to have chemo to be cured and lost her hair?”

“It’s not the same thing at all,” said Dave. “But yes, to be absolutely honest, I wouldn’t want you to tie yourself down to anything, especially when you’re not even eighteen yet, that will ruin your future. What if you keep on with this? What if she gets pregnant, Danny? Do you think of that? I hope to God you’re not thinking of getting really involved with her.”

“If I was, it wouldn’t be any of your business, Dad.” “You’re in high school, Dan.”

“You met Mom in high school.” “That was a different time.”

“You hate it when I say that. You hate it when I ask how it was back in the day.”

“You need to tell her, in a nice way, that you want to be friends.”

“I don’t, though. I’d be lying. I don’t want to be just her friend. I don’t know if it’ll last over the summer. I don’t know what will happen when we go back to school. But I

want to be with her now.”

“It’s your funeral, Danny,” Dave finally said. He swung into the truck and, before Danny could hop into the cab beside him, drove off alone.

“You asshole,” Danny said quietly, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

He wanted to punch someone. He wanted to cry. He wanted to throw his stuff in his car and move to his brother’s house. He loved his dad. His dad hadn’t missed a match since Danny was ten. And he wasn’t a beast, like other wrestling dads, giving their kids diuretics and urg ing them to kill. The only thing he had done to redshirt Danny was keeping him out of kindergarten until he was six so he’d have a power advantage. Danny loved his mom. His mom still treated him like he was ten; but if he was sick or in need of something for school, she’d come on cross- country skis if she had to to make sure he had it. Mom worked days baking for the Art House Café and weekends mending things for the dry cleaner to make sure Danny, Dennis, and David Jr. had iPods and at least a small college fund. She loved telling her bad jokes and always told them wrong, getting all flustered and saying, “Wait! I forgot to tell you! The famous genetics guy was eating a stork!”