I Am the Wallpaper (23 page)

Lillian and Helmut came home later that night, exhausted and happy. Lillian screamed with laughter when she saw my new hair. “What happened to you, Floey? You look like a big purple cabbage!”

Personally, I’d had enough with the vegetable comments.

The sleeping arrangements were kind of ridiculous because we didn’t have room for everyone. But my sister insisted on sleeping at home.

“I’m really moving away now, don’t you get it? I’m moving to New York on Monday and I’ll never ever live here ever again. Of
course
I don’t want to stay in a
hotel!
Are you
kidding
?”

So Lillian and her new husband spent the first night after their honeymoon on our living room sofa. With the pillows off the back it’s kind of a deep sofa, but still I don’t think it could have been comfortable for the two of them.

Since Aunt Sarah and my cousins were flying home Saturday night, my mother prepared a truckload of food. Saturday would be the only remaining time we would all be together, so she wanted to have a picnic.

Saturday morning, I got up later than everyone else. Aunt Sarah was already packing Richard’s stuff, Helmut was relaxing in the yard and Lillian was glued to the bathroom mirror, getting ready to present herself. As far as I knew, she hadn’t actually phoned any of her friends to remind them she was back, but I knew, and she did too, that they’d be dropping by to see her today. While she brushed her hair and adjusted her makeup (she takes a
looong
time), I stood in the bathroom doorway and told her about my adventures: about Wen and Kim, Calvin, the Devil’s Coffeehouse, the Old Naked People, Dean Eagler, the Web
site, even Wen and Azra. I didn’t tell her about Richard’s bed-wetting problem, though. I had a promise to keep.

“Wow, Floey,” she said. “I’m impressed. I guess my baby sister is having herself quite a summer.”

“I guess so,” I said, happy that she thought so.

“Wen, Calvin
and
Dean Eagler?” She shook her head at me, pretending to be shocked. “This won’t do. You’ll have to tone it down or you’ll catch up to me. We can’t have that, now, can we?”

Actually, I wasn’t worried. I knew I’d never catch up to her.

Just for a laugh, she leaned over and gave me a bright apricot lipstick kiss on my forehead. “More power to you, kid. Dealing with multiple guys is like juggling. No matter what happens, keep them all up in the air.” Then she made fish lips at me. She thought she was so funny.

“Do you really think,” I asked her, wiping my face with a tissue, “that you and Helmut will be in love forever?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Of course. What a question.”

“It’s not so weird. If you look around at the people we know, doesn’t it kind of seem like it’s hard to stay happy for a whole lifetime?”

“Listen, little girl,” she said, frowning. “You don’t know anything about anything.” She took out her lipstick again, leaned into the mirror and pursed her lips.

I stared at her, amazed. I had to laugh.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s just that I like your answer. It’s very Zen.”

She frowned again.

Frank Sinatra nibbled on my toes while I sat on the front steps. He was acting friendly, but only because he wanted my breakfast. Every now and then I tossed him some of my cereal. The humidity had passed, the sky was bright and cheerful and I only had a few more hours until Aunt Sarah would be gone gone gone.

Things were looking up. Everything was coming up roses.

Except not really.

I hadn’t been able to bring myself even to think about Wen all week, let alone phone him. And in the past few days somebody had called at least seven times and then when I said “Hello” they hung up. I knew it was Azra. On one of the last calls I could hear her mother in the background. I wondered what she wanted. Why didn’t she talk? I even called her once. I’d decided to tell her that I missed her and that we should stay best friends. I got her machine, though. And while I listened to her mother’s voice I found myself thinking about Azra and Wen and how they were probably together right then. Before the machine got to the beep, I hung up.

I didn’t really want to talk to her anyway.

I wondered miserably if we would ever be friends again. Or if I still wanted us to be.

And that’s what I was thinking about when the door opened and I felt a cold, gloomy presence hovering behind me. Aunt Sarah. I didn’t say a word, and neither did she. I went back to eating my cereal. Eventually, she sat down beside me.

Frank Sinatra ran as far as his harness would take him. Smart ferret.

“So, what are you eating, kiddo?” she asked. She was obviously trying to start a casual conversation with me, but she sounded uncomfortable. No surprise. What a stupid way to begin. And why pretend we were friends? Why couldn’t she just leave me alone? The woman was a loon.

I tipped my bowl in her direction so she could see. Then I kept eating.

“Listen, Floey. I was talking with your mother. She said you worked hard taking care of Richard and Tish. I want to thank you for that.”

“Mmmm.”

There’s a Zen saying: When left with nothing to say, rest content in the knowledge that there is really nothing to say.

“No, I mean it. I really appreciate it. And I hope they didn’t give you and your mother too much trouble while I was gone.”

Oh, if she only knew.

After another uncomfortable silence, she blew out a long breath and shifted her weight. I still kept quiet. If she was here to apologize, which she absolutely ought to be, why should I make it easy for her?

“So anyway,” she continued, “I just want to tell you that I don’t think you’re a delinquent. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

Blah blah blah.

I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me what you think. You
can think whatever you want. Okay, so I’m not a delinquent, I’m just some terrible, ungrateful person. I don’t care.”

“Floey, I don’t think you’re a terrible person.”

Yeah yeah.

“Whatever. You have no idea what I’m really like. How could you when you haven’t seen me in years? You don’t know me at all.”

She stared at me. “I know,” she said finally. “I know.”

I went back to my cereal.

“So you think I haven’t been a very good aunt, is that it? Maybe I should have visited more often?”

I shrugged. What was I supposed to say to that?

“Floey, you don’t know me, either. We all have our own problems. Your mother knows that airplanes fly in both directions, you know.”

All right. That was true.

And then she totally and utterly surprised me.

“Well, in case you’re interested, I have an idea. The summer isn’t over yet, so why don’t you come and stay with us for a week or so sometime before school starts? I’ll pay for your flight and I’ll show you around Chicago. It’d give us a chance to get to know each other.”

I nearly fell off the stairs.

What was she thinking? Why would I want to do that?

“You don’t have to answer now. Think about it.”

“Thanks,” I said, amazed. “Only I don’t think I can do it. I … I have a lot going on.”

“Fine,” she said. “If it doesn’t work out this summer, you have an open invitation. Just let me know.”

I gaped at her. Could the woman making this suggestion really be my aunt Sarah, the woman who hated me? I had visions of arriving in Chicago and immediately being locked in her basement and tortured.

She took off her floppy hat and fiddled with the edges. “I guess a training bra is kind of a dumb gift, isn’t it?”

I studied her face. Was she telling me that she knew it, or was she asking me? Finally, I said, “Yes, it kind of is.”

One side of her mouth smiled.

“But you were just trying to be nice,” I said.

“That’s true. I
was.
” She fanned herself now with the hat. “I thought I knew something about thirteen-year-old girls, but I guess I only remembered how it was for
me
. At thirteen I certainly didn’t need a real bra, like you. After all,” she said, “I barely need one now.”

And then she laughed.

And I smiled, but just a little.

Helmut set up chairs and blankets in the field behind our house and we all helped bring out the food. Even before we’d finished setting everything up, Lillian’s friends started to arrive. Rebecca Greenblatt came first, followed by other friends and admirers. God only knew where Lillian had met them all. Some of them I recognized, some I didn’t, but Lillian greeted them all like they were her best friends. Frida and Digger waved to me. Almost everybody brought food. Thankfully, Billy Fishman never showed his face.

It was a beautiful summer day. For a while, Mrs. Horowitz and I talked about the wedding. Nearby, Helmut was too busy eating to say much to anybody. I wondered if he forgot to eat in Mexico. Admirers crowded around my sister. She looked comfortable and happy and in her element. She was the queen bee, a completely different animal than me.

I was deep in thought, watching her, when somebody put a hand on my shoulder. “Hiya, Floey. What’s the news?”

“Oh, hello, Gary,” I said.

Something over my shoulder caught his eye, so I turned to see. At the other side of the crowd, my mother was talking to somebody in front of the table with the paper plates and plastic cups and utensils. She noticed us and waved. Gary waved back.

I thought of the Old Naked People. Maybe Lillian was right and I didn’t know anything. One thing I was sure of, though, was that I wanted my mother to have somebody to go skinny-dipping with in her old age.

“Keep working on her,” I said to him, taking his hand and walking him over to her. “I’ll start working on her too.”

He turned bright red.

Everybody pretty much stopped talking as soon as Lillian began telling stories about her trip. By then, I’d drifted to the back of the crowd, unnoticed again. But this time it was okay—I wanted to sneak away for a while. In the house, I grabbed the two things I’d prepared before the party and put them into a plastic bag. I was going for a bike ride.

I had some things to do, things I needed to set right.

First, I pedaled toward the secret beach. Once I turned down the path, I got off my bike and crept up to the little cottage. I carefully slipped a letter into the mailbox.

I got back on my bike and continued.

With no camp on Saturdays, I figured I might find Azra at home. By the time I reached her house I was feeling pretty anxious. At the end of her driveway I stopped, still straddling my bike.

Leaning against her garage door was Wen’s bicycle.

If he was in there too, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to see them. Maybe someday I’d be okay with them being a couple, but not yet. Still, I’d already come all the way over here with Smiley Quahog. I decided to leave him on the front step and then ride away. She’d find him and get the message, but I wouldn’t have to see them together. Not just yet.

I set my bike down on the lawn and crept up to the front door. I put the little swordsman directly in front of the welcome mat so she wouldn’t miss him. Then I turned and started running back to my bike.

Before I got halfway down the driveway, I heard the screen door squeak.

“Thanks,” Azra’s voice called out.

I turned around. She’d seen me, so there was no point in trying to get away now.

She picked up the quahog and held it in her hand. “Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”

I didn’t say anything right away. I shrugged. “I don’t know. Does that mean you’re not mad at
me
anymore?”

She just stood there.

I felt like running away again.

But then Wen stepped into view behind her. He looked a little uncomfortable, but at the same time he seemed happy to see me. “Why don’t you come inside?” he said after a moment. “We’re just goofing around.”