Last Summer (8 page)
Authors: Holly Chamberlin
The confrontation had been even more difficult than Jane had imagined it would be. She hadn’t expected to be moved by it. She thought she had thoroughly hardened her heart against Frannie. But it seemed that she still felt a bit of sympathy for her. Being a single parent was never easy, and it was even harder when a person didn’t have any support from her ex-husband. Even when Frannie was still married to Peter she had shouldered almost all of the family’s burdens, from financial to domestic. And yet, she had always made time for Jane and her family. When Jane had been sick during the pregnancies that had ended in miscarriage, Frannie had watched Rosie for hours on end, feeding and changing her right along with her own daughter. That sort of kindness and generosity was hard to forget.
Jane wished she could shake off the treacherous feelings of sympathy. To forgive Frannie for her part in Meg’s actions would be tantamount to a betrayal of her own daughter. Wouldn’t it? How did you parcel out the blame in a situation like this? Frannie might argue that she wasn’t at all to blame for Meg’s actions, but wasn’t a parent always responsible to some extent for what her child did or said, or for what her child didn’t do or didn’t say? Except, maybe, in cases where the child was mentally unstable and unable to decide between right and wrong, which was certainly not the case with Meg. Meg had always been—or had always seemed to be—a levelheaded girl, responsible beyond her years. If she had ever felt any resentment or anger about her home situation, she certainly hadn’t shown those emotions to Jane, or, as far as Jane knew, to anyone. Maybe that was the problem....
Jane pressed her lips together. No. She was not going to excuse Meg’s behavior as the result of a difficult home life. Everyone faced pressures and trials. Besides, Meg didn’t have it too bad. If Peter was less than a good father, at least Frannie was a ...
With the tip of her finger she wiped absentmindedly at a tiny mark on the tabletop. It used to drive Frannie nuts, Jane’s always wiping up the tiniest drop of liquid or endlessly sweeping away crumbs that were virtually nonexistent. Jane almost smiled at the thought. And she was forced to admit, however begrudgingly, that Frannie was, indeed, a good parent. She was hardworking and loving, never overindulgent but always thoughtful of her children’s feelings. If she was sometimes a bit hard on Meg that was only because she felt she had to be, for Meg’s own good. Frannie had never said as much, but Jane was pretty sure she worried about one of her children turning out to be like their deadbeat father. What sane mother wouldn’t worry about something like that?
A deadbeat and a philanderer and quite possibly, an alcoholic. Jane shuddered as a feeling of relief spread through her. Relief and gratitude toward a god she didn’t even believe in. She had been so lucky to find Mike, someone she could trust implicitly. To no one’s surprise, Mike had never had much use for Peter. They were entirely different sorts of men, and their differences went much deeper than a collection of habits. Mike was intelligent and responsible and devoted to his family. Peter was none of those things. Mike was loyal to his wife. It was likely that Peter had never been loyal to Frannie, even in the earliest days of their marriage. Frannie had admitted as much to Jane, though anyone with eyes could have seen that Peter was worse than a tomcat. The amazing thing was that Peter had never tried to flirt with Jane, let alone seduce her.
No doubt that was because of Mike, who, though a peaceful man, was large enough to make some people think otherwise. Back before the divorce the men had survived each other’s presence by sticking to neutral topics like lawn care and the weather. Any topics more challenging than that would have immediately shattered the illusion of neighborly friendship. Jane wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Mike was relieved when Frannie threw Peter out of the house. No more having to pretend civility for the women’s sake. But whatever his feelings, Mike had kept them to himself.
That was another good quality he possessed, self-control and the sense of when not speaking was best. In spite of Mike’s dislike of Peter Giroux, he had never let his sour feelings negatively affect his behavior toward the other members of Peter’s family. Only a few nights before, Jane recalled, as they lay in bed, Mike had mentioned that he felt bad he hadn’t spent any time with Petey in almost a month. They had argued in hushed tones about this, not wanting Rosie to overhear. Jane believed it was Mike’s duty to keep away from the entire Giroux family. “You need,” she had said, “to show loyalty to your daughter.”
“I am loyal to my daughter,” he had replied forcefully. “You don’t ever have to doubt my loyalty to my family. But why should Petey be punished for something he didn’t do?” Mike had argued. “It’s bad enough his father has virtually abandoned him. Why should I walk away, too, just because his sister did something childish and wrong?”
The argument had gone around in circles, yet another conversation with no conclusion.
Jane sighed. She had so much work to do. A pair of pants needed hemming and the kitchen floor could use a cleaning, though she had washed it just two days ago. She was accomplishing nothing by sitting in the backyard obsessing over matters she could not change or influence. She went inside through the back door and locked it behind her. Then she checked to be sure that the front door was also locked.
There had never been a break-in in the neighborhood, at least as far as Jane knew. And she had never been overly conscientious about locking the doors to the house. Yorktide was not a high-crime town; the worst offenders were the occasional drunk driver and abusive husband—both horrors, but neither a real threat to the Patterson household. But ever since Rosie’s trouble, Jane had felt generally insecure. She felt that her family was threatened in ways she could barely define. Locking the door was largely a symbolic gesture, ultimately futile as these days you could be threatened and even attacked right in your own home via the computer or cell phone. Still, it was a gesture Jane felt compelled to make.
9
December 9, 2011
Dear Diary,
Something weird happened this morning on the way to school. Mrs. Giroux offered to drive Meg and me for some reason. Anyway, she let us off a few blocks away to save herself some time, I guess. Or maybe she was just tired of Meg’s complaining about having peanut butter and jelly again for lunch.
It all happened so fast I can’t really be sure what exactly did happen.
I was about a block away from school by then and by myself because Meg had run ahead to try to catch someone in her advanced math class. She wanted to ask him something about the homework assignment. Anyway, Mackenzie Egan, Courtney Parker, Jill Harrison, and Stella Charron were passing me on my left and the next thing I knew, I felt what I thought was a shove or a shoulder bumping into me and then I was on the ground.
The left knee of my jeans ripped and my palms got kind of scraped, but the scrapes are not too bad. Mom can fix the hole in the jeans, so that’s not really a big deal, either. I told Mom that I tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. It’s not like that couldn’t really have happened.
Later, I told Meg about it. She immediately got all freaked out and said that Mackenzie and her friends were bullies. She said I should totally ignore them all. She said that bullies want attention and that they go away when they get no reaction. I don’t know if that’s true. I can’t remember if that’s what we learned back in middle school when we had those classes about how to deal with bullies. Maybe I didn’t pay enough attention. Why? I always pay attention in class. I guess it never occurred to me that I would be bullied.
And maybe I haven’t been bullied. Maybe it really was an accident. Mackenzie laughed but sort of apologized to me and she called Courtney an idiot for having been clumsy and knocking into me. Jill and Stella said nothing and then all four of them just walked on toward school. But Meg is still suspicious. She thinks Mackenzie set the whole thing up and that Courtney banged into me on purpose. But why me? I’ve never done anything bad to any of them. I don’t think I’ve ever even talked to any of them, certainly not to Courtney, not until that Halloween party, and they came up to us, not the other way around. Like I said, Meg can be so suspicious sometimes.
Anyway, I don’t know if I can actually ignore Mackenzie and Courtney and Jill and Stella. They’re so popular. At least, I think they are. They act like they are. I’ve decided after what happened today that I don’t like them at all, but I would never say that to anyone, except for Meg. I mean, if it was really an accident, why didn’t one of them ask me if I was okay?
I have to admit that after talking to Meg, I did wonder for about a half a second if I should say something to someone else about what happened, maybe to Carly or to Tiffany.
But then I thought, what if it really was an accident and I got Courtney into trouble for nothing? Then I’d be in a really bad situation and Mackenzie and the others would definitely hate me.
And what if it turned out that Courtney did knock me down on purpose? Then everything would be an even bigger mess. Because what would I do then?
And why would Carly or even Tiffany want to get involved in the first place? I’m only a freshman and they have all this important senior year stuff going on.
Besides, like I said, I really do think it was an accident. I’ve been in school with Mackenzie since forever and we’ve never even spoken before this year. Why would she suddenly want to cause trouble for me now? It doesn’t make any sense.
I’m going to put it all out of my mind.
It’s been snowing on and off for the past two days and the weather has been cold enough to freeze Duckworth Pond. Meg wants us to go ice-skating there on Saturday (she’s always hoping we’ll be there at the same time the boys from the high school ice hockey team are hanging out), but I’m not really in the mood to go ice-skating. I’m not really in the mood to do anything fun right now. I don’t know why. But if she really, really wants to go, I guess I’ll go with her. I mean, she’s my best friend and was really upset about my falling (or, as she says, being pushed), so the least I can do is go skating.
I think I need to put some more Bactine on my palms. Some of the scrapes are kind of stinging. It’s probably from holding this pen.
Well, I should go and do my homework. Mom and Dad never ask me if I’ve done it all before dinner, but I know they expect me to. And I don’t want to disappoint them, so see you soon.
Your friend, Rosie
December 23, 2011
Dear Diary,
It’s strange. Christmas is only two days away, but I just don’t feel excited about it the way I used to. I wish I did feel excited. But I can’t seem to fake it for myself, though I think I’m doing a pretty good job with Mom. She wanted us to bake cookies yesterday and I knew that if I told her the truth, that I didn’t really want to bake Christmas cookies, she would be all upset, so I went along and pretended that I was having a good time. When we were done I didn’t want to eat any, but I took a bite of one of the peanut butter cookies and when Mom left the kitchen to answer the door for the UPS guy, I threw the rest of it in the garbage. I felt bad about wasting food, but I just couldn’t eat the rest of it.
I know she’ll want to go to that Christmas concert at the Episcopal church, too, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings, so I’ll go with her. I don’t know why she likes it so much anyway because she says she’s an agnostic. I really like the carols, and even a lot of the hymns, especially “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” (it sounds so haunting and it always makes me cry for some reason), even though I’m not really sure what most of them mean because I’ve never learned much about the Bible and theology and all. But this year ... I don’t know. I just don’t care about going to the concert.
Meg’s been going on about wanting a suede jacket for Christmas. She really thinks her mom’s going to get one for her, but I saw in a catalogue my mom gets how expensive suede jackets are and I really doubt Mrs. Giroux can afford it. Still, I really hope Meg gets what she wants. She deserves good things. She asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I told her it was okay if she got me nothing because I really didn’t want anything. That was a bit of a lie. There are a few small things I would like to get. The real reason I told Meg she didn’t have to get me a gift is that I know money is really tight for the Giroux family. They shouldn’t be spending their money on me. Besides, Meg bought me that really pretty rose quartz pendant for my birthday only two months ago.
I thought I saw Mackenzie giving me an odd look today at lunchtime, sort of a sneer. I was probably imagining it. Since that time when I fell I think I’ve been imagining stuff, small things, that probably aren’t even real. Like after lunch today, when I was at my locker getting my books for the next class, I thought I felt someone watching me and when I turned around, Jill was right across the hall, staring at me. She didn’t smile or say or do anything, just stared at me for another few seconds and then walked away. But it’s not a crime to stare at someone, just rude. And like I said, maybe I was just imagining that she was staring at me. Why would I think that I’m so interesting? Mom’s always taught me not to have a big head or to be full of myself.
I’ve always been a bit confused about that. I mean, Mom always likes it when someone tells me how pretty I am. But isn’t that the sort of thing, getting compliments all the time, that leads you to being full of yourself or having a big head? Lately I’m realizing that there are so many things I just don’t understand. Maybe life was always this complicated and I was just too young to understand. Or maybe life is always getting more complicated. If that’s true, then how do you ever catch up with it?
I should go now. I still have to wrap Mom and Dad’s presents. Usually, I have every present wrapped weeks ahead, but for some reason, this year every time I thought, “I should wrap those presents,” I just couldn’t do it. Seriously, sometimes it’s like my brain just can’t make my hands DO anything. It’s never happened to me before. I wonder what it means. But now I only have two days until Christmas, so I really, really have to try to force myself to get those presents wrapped. I hope Mom and Dad like their gifts. I had a hard time figuring out what to get them. Finally, I got Dad a sweater and Mom a book about gardening. I saw that she’d circled an ad for it in one of our local papers about a month ago, so I hope she really wanted it and that she’s not disappointed. I don’t want her to think that I don’t care about her.
I had a hard time choosing something for Meg, too. I mean, Meg always has a wish list a mile long, but I still couldn’t decide what to get her. Finally, I got her a DVD set of the second Twilight movie with outtakes and interviews and stuff. It’s one of her favorite movies. It was kind of expensive but that’s okay. I’ve been saving my allowance. I hope her mother doesn’t also get it for her. Well, I kept the receipt, so I could always return it and get her something else.
Last night before dinner I went with Dad to find the “perfect tree.” He loves searching for the tree. We got a nice fat one at a tree lot in town and it’s out in the backyard. I think the man who sold it to us said it was a Scotch pine. We’ll be putting it up in the living room tomorrow and decorating it like we always do. Mom will be sure I get to hang my favorite ornament on the tree, that pink one that once belonged to my grandmother. I’m not excited about it at all, though. Maybe it’s just because I’m growing up. I don’t know. I mean, I haven’t believed in Santa Claus for a few years. (Neither has Meg, but we keep quiet about it for Petey’s sake.) Maybe Christmas really is just a holiday for little kids. Maybe Mom and Dad pretend excitement around Christmastime just for my benefit. Maybe I should tell them they don’t have to pretend anymore. I don’t want them wasting their time for my sake.
Talk about wasting time! That’s what I’m still doing. Good-bye, this time for real.
Your friend, Rosie
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