Liars and Fools (8 page)

Girlfriend.
It sounded so stupid.

He took a bite of cookie and closed his eyes. “Joni, Joni, Joni. You're killing me, you know.” He chewed in silence for a moment; then he opened his eyes and looked at me. “So, Fiona. I take it you're not exactly excited about this budding relationship?” he asked.

“You could say that.”

“Well, I'm hardly in a position to comment on other people's romances, given my own track record.” He gave a long dramatic sigh, but he didn't really sound too sad.

Tom's had plenty of boyfriends, and they've all been smart and funny and nice, but it never seems to turn into anything long-term. Joni says that neither she nor Tom is the settling-down kind. Which is kind of funny in a way, because they act like an old married couple, and when they take me out, people always assume they're my grandparents. I don't mind, but Tom is always quick to point out that he's nearly eight years younger than Joni, and while she might be ready to look like a grandparent, he most certainly is not.

I pushed the cookie tin closer to Tom, hoping he'd take my side. “It's not that I don't want Dad to be happy, but Kathy is kind of weird. She says she's psychic.”

Tom nodded. “Joni told me. You're not worried she'll be reading your mind or something? Looking in her crystal ball to find out what you and your friends are up too?”

I snorted. “Hardly.”

“So what's the big deal?”

“I don't think they're right for each other,” I said. “I think she's a liar and a fake, and I don't want Dad getting involved with her. She's a fraud.”

Joni raised her eyebrows and leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “Does she actually take money from people? For…what do they call them? Readings?”

I nodded. “Yeah. That's what she does for a living.”

Joni's eyebrows disappeared under her masses of wild gray curls. “Well, I hadn't realized that. I thought it was just a hobby.”

I pursued my point. “So you see what I mean? It's not right, is it? Taking money and making things up like that?”

Joni hesitated. “We don't know exactly what she does.”

“Yeah, but, okay, say we're not talking about anyone in particular. Say it's all—”

“Hypothetical,” Tom said helpfully.

“Yeah. Say it's hypothetical. If someone—person A—was taking money from someone else—”

“Person B,” Tom said.

I looked at him suspiciously, not sure if he was making fun of me. He took another cookie from the tin and grinned at me.

“Person B,” I agreed. “And pretending to tell her future, say. Or giving her messages from her dead robin stevenson husband or whatever. Wouldn't that be, you know, wrong?”

“Unethical,” Joni said, nodding firmly. “Yes.”

I turned my hands palm up. “Well then. I rest my case.”

Tom cocked his head to one side thoughtfully. “You're resting it on a pretty big assumption.”

“What assumption?” I asked, frowning.

Tom glanced at Joni apologetically. “Well, we don't know that she's pretending.”

Joni looked at him, eyebrows lifting. “You mean maybe she really believes she's psychic? I suppose that's possible.”

I groaned. “Great. Dad could have a girlfriend who's crazy instead of one who is a liar. Thanks a lot, I feel so much better.” I couldn't even say the word
girlfriend
without my voice changing, becoming hard and mocking and sarcastic.

“Actually,” Tom said, “that's not what I meant.”

Joni and I both stared at him. Don't say it, I thought. Please don't say it.

“Maybe she's the real thing,” he said.

I clenched my hands into tight fists. Thinking about Kathy being able to communicate with Mom made my whole body ache. If anyone was going to communicate with my mother, it should be me. It definitely should not be some weird stranger who was after Dad.

“Tom!” Joni practically vibrated with anger. “Give your head a shake! That's the most ludicrous…the most absurd…the plain stupidest…”

“I'm just saying, hypothetically, we should consider all the possibilities.”

“Right,” she snapped. “The
possibilities.
Not the impossibilities. And the possibilities are that Kathy is either a liar or a fool. Not that she can talk to people who have died.” She stopped abruptly and looked at me like she'd just remembered I was there. “Fiona, you're not thinking she can actually do that, are you?”

I swallowed hard and shook my head. “No one can.”

“That's right.” Joni's mouth tightened. “None of us can do that.” She tugged on the beaded chain of her reading glasses, twisting it in her hand. There was a soft pop, and beads flew across the kitchen in a bright spray of blue and green and purple, pinging off the cupboards and rolling across the tiles. “Damn it, Tom! Look what you made me do.”

Tom looked at me. “Sorry, kiddo. I didn't mean to upset you.”

It seemed to me Joni was the one who was upset. “I'm fine,” I told him.

Joni picked up a bead that was rolling across the countertop toward her. Her hand shook slightly. “Fiona. There's no need to mention what I said to your father. The part about Kathy being a liar or a fool. I shouldn't have said that.”

“Don't worry, I won't tell on you.” I stifled a giggle. “It's true though.”

“Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't. If Peter is happy…” She shrugged her shawl-covered shoulders. “I should accept things as they are. We all should.”

The urge to giggle dissolved and left my mouth tasting as dry and bitter as if I'd eaten a fistful of lemon peel. I couldn't accept Kathy, and I wasn't going to try.

“I miss Jennifer too, you know.” Joni looked at me. “But life has to go on. Jennifer is gone, and your father is still here. He has to do what is best for him.”

I looked away, unable to meet her eyes. I wondered if she knew that I had taken Mom's side—that I'd encouraged her to go on that last sailing trip.

“It'd be nice to see Peter happy,” Joni said. “So just think about that, okay?”

If being happy meant forgetting about Mom, then I wasn't sure I wanted Dad to be happy. I wasn't sure I even wanted to be happy myself.

nine

After I went to bed that night, I couldn't stop thinking about what Tom had said.
Maybe she's the real thing.
I didn't believe it, but as long as there was the slightest possibility that Kathy could communicate with my mother—even a speck-sized possibility—it was going to be impossible for me to put the thought out of my head.

I got out of bed and rummaged through the laundry hamper until I found the dirty jeans I'd worn on the weekend. There it was, in the back pocket: Kathy's business card. It was white and fairly plain, with simple black lettering.
Katherine Morrison, Medium and Clairvoyant
Empath.
Her phone number. A small, finely drawn figure of a young girl in the top corner. I tore it in half, dropped the pieces in the garbage and got back into bed.

It didn't help. My thoughts ran in endless, pointless, restless circles. What if, what if, what if…

I guess I eventually fell asleep, because when I woke up the next morning, my pillow was wet with tears and I'd had a horrible dream. I'd gone to the marina and
Eliza J
had been gone. Sold. I'd lain on the splintery wooden dock and cried and cried.

I sat up and wiped my eyes with my sleeve. Just a dream, I told myself. But it didn't help. It didn't take away the awful empty ache inside me. It didn't even touch it.

Besides, it wasn't just a dream. For all I knew,
Eliza J
really could be gone.

Dad was drinking coffee and reading the newspaper when I came downstairs. I made myself some toast and poured a glass of milk before joining him at the kitchen table. I ducked my head as I sat down, not wanting him to notice my puffy eyes, but I needn't have worried. He didn't even look up from his paper.

I couldn't help thinking that Mom would have noticed right away. She'd have given me a considering look, like she wanted to ask if I was okay but didn't want to pry. And then she'd have asked anyway. She always did. Dad wasn't like that. I knew he loved me and everything, but he hadn't ever been the noticing type. And since Mom died, he noticed even less than ever.

I had to get to the marina before school. I needed to see
Eliza J
. I needed to make sure that she was still there. “I have to go in early,” I told Dad between mouthfuls of toast and peanut butter.

He nodded without looking up.

“Aliens from Jupiter are coming to our homeroom class,” I said.

He nodded again.

“So I may not come home, you know. I may go back to their planet with them.”

Another nod.

I picked up my plate and put it into the dishwasher. My hands were shaking. If I stayed in the room with Dad for another second, I would throw something at him.

Eliza J
was still there. The For Sale sign was still there too. I stepped aboard and sat in the cockpit, looking around the marina. Most of the people who had boats here were men, and most were Dad's age or older. I didn't know any other girls who were into sailing. It was sort of discouraging, but all the same, when Mom was here, I never doubted that I'd be a sailor. She'd given me a book for my tenth birthday about a girl called Tania Aebi, who'd sailed around the world on her own, starting when she was eighteen. That had been my robin stevenson dream ever since: to circumnavigate the globe right after high school.

I let my hand rest on the tiller, closed my eyes and imagined being out at sea, me and my boat alone under a starry sky. I imagined the sound of waves breaking, the feel of the wind on my face, the taste of salt spray on my lips. Trade winds, flying fish, sunsets and dolphins. Just me and my boat, all the way to Hawaii, Fiji, Tonga, New Zealand. I had always been so sure I'd do it someday.

Now I didn't feel sure of anything.

“I went to the library last night,” Abby told me at lunch the next day. “I got a ton of books for our project.”

We were sitting on the bleachers by the football field, and the midday sun was warm in that distant sort of way that makes you lift your face toward it and long for summer. “Great. Did you figure out how we can prove Kathy is a fake?”

“Well, we'll have to be kind of subtle.” She looked at me doubtfully. “Not too obvious.”

“I know what subtle means, thanks.”

“Yeah. Um, it's just that you tend to be pretty direct. I mean, that's a good thing, Fi. But for this…”

“Okay, okay. I get it.”

“Good. So do you want to get together after school and go over stuff?”

I nodded. “Sure. But I'm going to Joni's.” I didn't think Joni would mind if Abby came with me, but Dad was pretty firm about telling me not to take advantage of Joni's generosity by inviting friends over there. “Do you think you could come over later? Like for dinner?”

Abby shrugged. “I'll ask. Probably. Hey, can I sleep over?”

“Yes! Well, I'll check, but that'd be great.”

“We could get a lot done. Figure this project out and get a good start on it.”

Usually the thought of spending a Friday evening on homework would make my heart sink, but not this time. I couldn't wait to get to work on getting rid of Kathy. She didn't know it yet, but she was history. “I guess if she was really psychic, she'd know what we were doing,” I said aloud.

Abby looked puzzled. “Who would? What are you talking about?”

“Kathy. If she was psychic, she'd be getting nervous, don't you think?”

Abby shrugged. “If she was psychic, she'd have nothing to be nervous about.”

“I guess.” The green paint was peeling on the metal benches of the bleachers, and I picked at it with my fingernail.

Abby winced. “Stop it. That noise makes my skin crawl.”

I stopped and folded my hands together. “Anyway, she isn't psychic. No one is. But she should be nervous. Because we're going to figure out a way to get rid of her.” I tried to grin.

“Fiona…”

“Goodbye, Kathy,” I said. My voice sounded fiercer than I intended it to. I meant it though. I didn't care how great Dad said she was. I wanted her out of our lives.

Joni was painting her kitchen, talking on the phone and making cookies, all at the same time. I nibbled at the cookies cooling on the counter and read a magazine. Finally, she put the phone down, winked at me, pulled a tray of cookies out of the oven and stripped off a giant cooking apron decorated with Christmas elves and splattered with yellow paint.

“Multitasking prevents Alzheimer's,” she told me. “Or so I hope. You look like you had a better day today.”

“I did.” I opened my mouth to tell her about the plans Abby and I were making, but quickly closed it again. I was pretty sure Joni wouldn't approve. liars and fools Besides, we hadn't figured out how we were going to do it yet.

The phone rang.

Joni picked it up. “Hello…uh-huh…uh-huh… okay, I'll tell her…okay, we'll see you soon.”

She hung up and turned to me. “Your dad. He says he'll be here in a few minutes to pick you up on his way home.”

“He's early,” I protested. “And I have my bike. I was going to stop at the marina.”

“He says Kathy and Caitlin are coming for dinner, so he's leaving work early.” Joni looked at the half-empty cookie tray. “You're not going to have much appetite.”

“Seriously?” I stared at her. “We just had dinner with them. Like, two nights ago.”

“Mmm.”

I slipped down from my stool and leaned against the counter. “This is so not fair, Joni. Just because Dad wants to…wants to…”

She gave me a sympathetic smile. “Give it a chance.”

“I hate her.” My throat was suddenly tight, and I had to stop talking or I'd start bawling. I turned away and stood there with my back to Joni.