Pretending to Dance (36 page)

She didn't answer. Beneath my arms, I felt her body rise and fall with a sigh.

“Amalia?” I let go of her. “Is there something else?”

“Isn't that enough?” she asked, picking up the pitcher of iced tea from the counter and putting it back into the refrigerator. Then she turned to face me. “So, tell me, Molly,” she said. “Are you excited about the concert?”

She was doing it again, diverting me from the subject I wanted—
needed
—to talk about, and I could tell by the look in her green eyes that we were finished discussing my father for the day.

“Yes,” I answered, my voice flat and disappointed. “I can't wait.”

*   *   *

That night, I gave Daddy the palm stone back.

I didn't tell him why. I knew he didn't want me to know about his eyes, and even if I said something about them, he'd deny it was any big deal. But I could hardly think about anything else. That evening, he and Mom and I watched a movie on TV and he acted like he could see the whole thing, though a couple of times Mom quietly asked him
did you catch that?
when something important happened on the screen. Each time he nodded, so either he did see it or he was lying. I wouldn't put lying past him. I was sure he didn't want Mom to worry about him any more than she already was.

I had the stone in my pocket during the movie and after it was over and Mom left the room to find Russell, I got up and stood next to my father's recliner. I held out my hand, the purple stone resting on my palm.

“I want you to have this,” I said.

He looked puzzled. “It's yours,” he said. “I gave it to you.”

“I know, but I think you need it right now.”

His smile was both tender and suspicious, and I wondered if he thought someone had told me about his eyes. “That's sweet of you, Moll,” he said slowly, “but I think a palm stone is a bit challenging for me to use.”

I sat down on the sofa, still holding the stone out in front of me. “I thought maybe if you kept it in the pocket of your jeans, you'd know it's there and it would work just as well,” I said. “I mean, it's a psychological thing, anyhow, right? So it doesn't matter if it's in your hand or in your pocket.”

“Or in your room or your secret rock, for that matter.”

I wrinkled my nose. “You're missing my point,” I said. “I want you to have it.”

He studied my face for a long moment, then nodded. “You're worried about me,” he said.

“Yes.” I waited for him to say there was nothing to worry about, but he was quiet.

“I'll borrow it,” he said finally. “How's that?”

“Good.” I smiled, getting to my feet. “I'll give it to Russell and ask him to put it in your jeans pocket in the morning. Okay?”

“Deal,” he said.

I headed down the hall to look for Russell, my emotions mixed. I hoped the stone would give my father courage and comfort, but I knew I was going to miss it, and later, as I climbed the stairs to my room, I was keenly aware of the empty place in my pocket.

 

46

San Diego

Life is amazing.

That's my new mantra and I've gotten to the point where I really believe it. Aidan and I cuddle in bed at night, giggling about the latest baby picture Sienna posted of herself on the private Facebook page we share or running through our list of names and somehow always ending up laughing over—and loving—Natalie Echo. Laurie and her husband, Tristan, gave us an early baby gift by painting the nursery the yellow I've been fantasizing about. I can walk in that room with courage now, though we still haven't bought things for the baby. There's still fear. We know how many things can go wrong in so many different ways. We know that Sienna might take one look at her baby and decide to keep her. I would never hold that decision against her, much as I pray she doesn't make it.

I've been to two of her obstetrician appointments with her now. She's doing well. Everything is progressing “perfectly,” according to her doctor. After each appointment, Sienna and I have done something fun. The first time we went to the Wild Animal Park. The second time out to lunch. I've been reading up on the problems that can come with open adoptions. Adoptive mothers can form a strong bond with a birth mother before the baby's born, only to pull away from the birth mother once the baby's been adopted. It's not a malicious pulling away, the author stresses, but a natural progression in the relationship. Still, when that happens, the birth mother loses not only her baby but a meaningful friendship as well. It scares me that I might do that to Sienna. She becomes more precious to me every day. One thing I'm sure of: we are not Nora and Amalia. We are nothing like Nora and Amalia. We never will be like Nora and Amalia.

 

47

Morrison Ridge

I'd worried about how my parents would treat Stacy since I knew they—especially my mother—didn't think much of her, but they were really nice to her as we all got into the van in our driveway for the trip to Atlanta. Stacy's mother had dropped her off in front of our house, pulling out of our driveway so quickly that her silver van disappeared in a puff of dust from the road. I was sure she didn't want to speak to either of my “hovering” parents.

Stacy and I sat way in the back of our van, which made Stacy freak. “I'm so claustrophobic,” she whispered to me, her face absolutely white. “We're, like, trapped back here.”

“Not really,” I said. “The back door is right behind us.” I didn't point out that we'd have to somehow climb over our seats and scrunch into the little space behind us to be able to open that door. I wasn't even sure it was possible to open it from the inside. But she seemed reassured, and by the time we pulled onto the main road, the color was back in her cheeks.

Daddy sat in front of me, locked into place in his wheelchair, and Mom had the seat next to him, while Amalia and Russell rode up front.

Russell put a cassette in the van's tape player once we were rolling on the highway. Jazz—my least favorite—but I was glad of it because it meant Stacy and I could talk without being overheard. We hadn't had a chance to really talk since the week before, when my mother showed up at her house. We'd talked a few times on the phone, but I was paranoid that my parents were listening in and I didn't dare say anything that might come back to bite me.

“I saw Bryan last night,” Stacy said quietly to me now.

“Where?” I asked. I was so jealous that she got to see him.

“At his house,” she said. “His parents were out.” She glanced at the seats in front of us, where my parents sat talking quietly with one another. “We did it,” she whispered.

I was shocked. “All the way?” I whispered back.

She nodded. “Actually, the first time was that night your mother showed up,” she said. “I haven't been able to tell you because…” She nodded toward my parents. I'd told her talking on the phone wasn't safe. “We've done it twice since then,” she said.

“Oh, my God.” I felt so left behind. “What was it like?”

“It sucked the first time.” She laughed quietly. “It hurt and just … well, it sucked, period. But then it got better.”

“He used those … Trojan things?”

“Of course.” She smiled this secret, knowing smile that made me feel like an ignorant little kid. “Guys hate them and I love that he wants to protect me that way,” she said.

I was so agonizingly jealous! She got to be with Bryan and I couldn't even talk to Chris on the phone.

“I have to tell you something.” She made a pained-looking face. “It's going to upset you.”

I stared at her. “What?”

“I wasn't sure if I should tell you, but I'd want you to tell
me,
so—”

“What?”

“Last night at Bryan's? Chris was there. With another girl.”

She may as well have punched me in the stomach. What did I expect, though? My parents wouldn't let me see him. He couldn't reach me on the phone, and there'd been no more of those hang-up phone calls in days. I guessed he'd given up. I couldn't expect him to sit home every night and wish I was with him.

“Who was it?” I asked.

“This girl…” She shrugged. “I never saw her before,” she said. “She lives in Asheville. Julie somebody.”

“What did she look like?” I braced myself, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“She's okay-looking,” Stacy said.

I knew that meant she was pretty. Stacy didn't want to hurt my feelings any more than she already had.

“Is he really into her?” I asked.
Did he love her?

“I don't know. They were kind of off on their own. I didn't talk to her much. I sort of gave her the cold shoulder out of respect for you.”

“I have to see him again!” I said.

“Sh!” She pointed toward my parents.

“They can't hear us,” I said, but I lowered my voice just in case. “I have to get him back, Stacy!” I knotted my hands in my lap. “How can I do it?”

“You have to sneak out or something,” she said. “If you can figure out a time you can get together with him, I can get a message to him through Bryan. I'm sure he wants to see you. He really liked you.”

I noticed the past tense. I had to see him somehow!

And then I thought about Saturday night. The upcoming family meeting. Me, sleeping over at Nanny's.

“I have an idea,” I said quietly. I told her about Saturday night. “My grandmother always goes to bed early. Like at ten. I could sneak out then and she would never know. Maybe Chris could pick me up and we could go to your house if your mother—”

She shook her head. “Saturday is my sister's birthday. She's coming down for the weekend and we're having a party for her that night.”

“Oh,” I said.

“What about that creepy springhouse?” she asked. “You could meet him there. It would be perfect.”

Oh my God, she was right! I smiled for the first time since we'd gotten in the van. It
was
perfect. “When we get to the hotel,” I said quietly, “I'll make a map of Morrison Ridge for you to give him, all right? Will you see him before Saturday night?”

“I'll see Bryan Friday,” she said. “He can tell Chris the plan and get the map to him.” Then she grabbed my hand, grinning. “This is so cool!” she said. “I'm so glad you'll get to see him!” Then she leaned over to whisper in my ear. “You and Chris really belong together, Molly,” she said. “I know this is going to work out perfectly!”

 

48

 

The concert was held in a football stadium, the chairs set up in the field facing the stage. It took us forever to find our seats and we were amazed to discover we were only about thirty rows back.

“I can't believe your father was able to get these seats!” Stacy said, when we finally found our row. “Totally awesome.”

The stadium was packed with people of all ages wearing New Kids T-shirts and New Kids buttons and New Kids jackets, even though the night was hot. We sat through some opening performers and a magic act, but I had trouble concentrating. All I could think about was Saturday night. What if Bryan couldn't get the map to Chris? What if Nanny decided that was the one night of the year she wanted to stay up late? So many things could go wrong, and while the crowd grew antsy and loud as we waited for the New Kids to take the stage, those possible mishaps were all I could think about.

When the New Kids came on stage and everyone started screaming their heads off, I felt out of it.
I don't belong here any longer,
I thought. The girls around me jumped onto the seats of their chairs, waving their arms, begging for the guys to look in their direction. I stood on my chair, too—it was the only way to see—but I didn't scream. I watched the New Kids dance around on stage—five guys who had absorbed every spare moment of my life for the last couple of years and now seemed so silly and sort of plastic compared to Chris. I'd been wasting my time on a total fantasy.

But as the concert continued, I was drawn back in. They were so good. So exciting to watch. So passionate about what they were doing up there on the stage. I missed those guys and I was surprised when I felt tears burn my eyes. It was like watching old friends I'd lost and couldn't figure out how to get back. I missed the longing for them. The safety of them. With Chris, I felt as though I'd crossed some sort of invisible threshold into another life that was scarier, harder to manage, and way too real. I wanted my old life back. The one where I could happily stare at posters of the New Kids and Johnny Depp for hours upon hours upon hours, where my parents trusted me, where Daddy could see the world clearly and the hardest thing I ever had to do was walk my bike up the Hill from Hell. I stood on my chair, holding on to Stacy's arm as she screamed, and after a while, I screamed along with her.

 

49

 

I woke up the following morning with the sun pouring through the hotel room window. In the bed closest to the door, Stacy slept with the covers over her head, and I lay there for a few minutes, letting the memories of the night before wash over me before I realized I was starving. I got out of bed and dressed quietly so I didn't wake Stacy. I'd see if my parents were up. Maybe I could go down to the coffee stand in the lobby and get some muffins or something for everyone. I'd need to get some money from my mother first.

I took my room key and stepped out into the hallway. I was nearly to my parents' room when the door to Amalia's room opened and Russell emerged, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt. He stopped short when he saw me and we stared at each other. I wasn't sure which of us was more shocked.

“Morning, Molly,” he said finally, and he continued walking toward his door, which was right next to my parents'.