Shhh...Mack's Side (2 page)

I’ve known Gia my entire life. Our mothers and fathers were all college friends. I can vaguely remember the three of them visiting before Gia moved next door when she was four. Our fathers went into business together, and although our mothers didn’t work for the same company, they did the same thing.

They both worked for real-estate companies in Providence, but not for the same firm. It never made
sense to me, Gia, or our dads. They would get into screaming matches over one landing a deal the other one had been working on. They played dirty to get ahead of the other, but at the end of the day when we were in our backyard, the gloves came off and they were friends, drinking wine and watching their daughters in the Olympics.

I smiled remembering our Olympics. We’d jump in one end of the pool, swim the entire length, jump out, run to my pool, do the same thing
, and run back. Gia and I always made up dumb games. We could entertain ourselves for hours. I knew they moved from Shayla Harbor. My mother told me about it a couple years back. She didn’t stay in touch with Melanie either. That day hurt a lot of people, not just Mr. Nichols, me, and Gia. It destroyed families, friendships, and brought a community to its knees.

I don’t really remember life before Gia. It was always Mack and Gia. Gia was nine days older than me. Our mother’s used to tell us they planned it that way,
but I found out later that was a lie. Everything was a lie. We were both accidents. The truth always came out on Sunday afternoons when our families would be sitting around the pool, grilling burgers. My mom and Melanie would always argue about something work related, calling dibs on the listings, fighting over who got what property. Alcohol always played a role in secrets being revealed. Apparently, we were both accidents, conceived out of love, or was that alcohol? It was always alcohol.

Nonethe
less, Gia and I practically grew up as sisters. She lived next door for as long as I can remember. Our parents insisted on the same sitter, same pre-schools, and same play dates. The thing I hated most was sharing my birthday with Gia. Gia’s dad was the one that finally told our meddling mothers that we wouldn’t be sharing any more birthdays together. He explained with Gia on his lap and a kiss to her cheek, that she and I had our own little personalities.

I scooted close to my own dad, observing the relationship Kyle had with Gia. I couldn’t remember sitting on my dad’s lap. I lifted my leg to slide to his lap like Gia, and he moved me away, telling me I was going to spill his beer.
That wasn’t the first time I had felt rejection, but it still stung a little.

I didn’t want one more party with Gia. Of course
, both our mothers argued the fact that it was easier to plan one party. I tried to tell my mother about it that year, the year we were seven. I wanted my own birthday. Emily Waters got her own birthday party. The rejection I still feel from my mother is real, although I have learned to deal with it, accepting that it was her hang-up and not mine at all.

I use the word
“real” lightly, but strongly at the same time. “Real” flows from my tongue easily, but yet the intensity of what real is for me is strong.

I
sat beside my mom on the sofa the night before our seventh birthday party. She was busy with her laptop with papers of houses and maps strung about. Looking down at me, she removed her glasses.

“
What, McKenzie. I’m terribly busy tonight.”

“Oh, well, okay. I’ll just tell you later,” I said like a coward. I didn’t tell her that year. I had the Amelia Doll birthday party that
Gia wanted. Don’t get me wrong, I had the time of my life that day. It was great. We had the whole shebang at the Davenport hotel in downtown Providence. A host came in and set up a doll store. We both got beautiful new Amelia dolls and picked out clothes that cost as much as our own clothes. Thinking about it now, I’d say our parents had around three thousand dollars in that party.

A banquet room full of little girls in frilly dresses and white gloves sat around tables, giggling and showing off their Amelia dolls, all envious of mine and Gia’s newest birthday pr
esents. Gia’s came in a pink, lace dress. Her name was Vanessa May and her hair was long, clear down her back with curls at the end, just like Gia’s. Her skin was tanned like Gia’s and she had big green eyes.

My doll came
in a purple gown with black hair like mine, straight as a board. Her eyes were the same ugly brown as mine and her skin was ghostly pale, just like mine. I never understood my genetics. Most humans with coal black hair have dark skin to go with it. Not me. I had ghost skin, the color of bones. Amelia dolls were the thing that year. A doll that cost too much money. Gia and I would forget them by the end of the month.

I tried to have the same conversation with my mother that Thanksgiving.

“Mom, I think we should go to Grandma and Grandpa’s for Thanksgiving,” I explained, climbing to the stool in front of her. She stopped chopping the carrots she was preparing for supper and looked at me perplexed.

“Why?”

I shrugged. “We always have Thanksgiving with them. I want to go to the farm.”

“We’re not going to the farm, McKenzie. Why don’t you go do your homework?”

“I need help.”

“You don’t need help. You didn’t even try.”

“Yes, huh. I have to look up definitions for words. I can’t find them.”

“You didn’t try,” my mother accused, continuing her chopping.

“Well, I don’t want to have Thanksgiving with them.”

“With who? Get down, McKenzie, you’re making
a mess.”

“I don’t want to have Thanksgiving with Gia’s family. That was already there. I didn’t do it,” I lied,
sucking up the spilled chocolate milk beside my glass with fish lips and a slurp.

“McKenzie Noel. Stop. Get down and go do your homework.”

“Where’s Dad?” I wanted to know, asking the dumb question. He was where he always was. At work with Gia’s dad.

“He’s not home yet. I said get down.”

“I want to go to Grandma’s. We didn’t go there for a long time.”

“We haven’t been there for a long time. Talk like you have some upbringing.
”

“What’s that?”

“It’s manners, Mack. Will you go?”

I slid off the stool when my mother’s cell
phone rang.

“Hey, Gia!” I yelled out the glass doors, seeing her in her back yard.

“McKenzie. I’m not kidding. Get your homework done,” my m
other scolded and then answered her phone.

“Hey
, poop face. Whatcha doing?” Gia called with her long hair hanging to the ground from the swing.

“Stupid homework. Did you do yours?”

“Don’t you dare go out that door, Mack,” my mom said, holding her hand over the speaker of her phone.

“Mom, I’m just going to talk to Gia,” I whined, stepping out to the pool patio.

“McKenzie, I’m not kidding,” she pointed with a stern, straight finger, walking to me. I couldn’t help it. She made me do it. I giggled when she lunged for me, jumping back to keep her from succeeding. That got me the look.

“I’ll be right back,”
I said, going anyway.

“I’ll do the first five and you do the next five. We’ll copy each other’s on the way to school,” Gia offered.

“Thanks. That’s better than doing them all. I hate definitions. I’m never going to use the word oblivious anyway,” I said, grabbing the rope of the tire swing, heaving her around a giant circle.

Gia grasped the rope and squealed. “I thought that word was oblevision. I thought it was going to have something to do with seeing stu
ff, like x-ray vision,” Gia explained, pulling back on the rope and kicking her legs to get more momentum.

I pushed her again. “I think it means
you can’t microwave corn on the cob, ‘cause it’ll pop into popcorn,” I gave my opinion, spinning her again.

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is. I watched it on Hey Arnold.”

“I know. I was with you
, dork. That’s a cartoon. It’s not real.”

“Let’s go try it,” I offered, stopping the swing in a dead stop.

“Okay. Does your mom have corn?”

“Yeah, I saw it in the drawer.”

Gia followed me across the yard to my back door.

My mom grabbed my shirt from behind,
trying to stop me with a frown. “Mack, what are you doing? Get out of there,” she whispered and then went back to trying to close a deal. I ignored her and jerked away. Gia stood there like a good little girl while I shucked the corn, peeling back the husk, running around the bar from my mom.

“Mom, stop. We have to make popcorn.”

“Can I call you back after I take care of my bratty daughter,” my mother finally asked. Uh-oh. I was in trouble. If I made her get off the phone from a business call, I was in for it. I didn’t falter, though. I couldn’t let her see my weakness. I continued to clean the corn, leaving the mess on the floor.

“I’m going to beat your ass. Give me that,” she growled, reaching for the corn. I tossed it to Gia and she handed it to my mom. Traitor.

“Go home, sweetie. McKenzie will see you tomorrow,” my mom coaxed with a warm smile. Gia smiled and left like a little angel.

I tried to run away, but she was quicker. Holding my arm, she held true to her promise and beat my ass. She meant business.

“Okay, Liz,” my dad said, coming to my rescue.

“
Yeah, sure, Mark. It’s almost eight o’clock. She hasn’t had a bath and she has homework. It’s nice of you to come home and be a goddamn parent!” my mother screamed.

I cried out, holding my stinging butt. I didn’t want them to fight. I would r
ather my mom go back to ignoring me and my dad not being home. It was too late. The tension was already in the air. I ducked out of the picture, unnoticed. Listening to the same fight they had every time they were mad, I disappeared up to my room.

Looking out my window, I saw Gia’s dad in his office over the garage. He was walking around in circles, talking on the phone. I sat at my desk and opened my book. Digging through my backpack I searched for my
list of words, listening to my dad call my mom names. I looked everywhere. I even walked back downstairs. They were nowhere to be found. Walking back to my room, I took the cordless phone from the upstairs hallway and called Gia. I watched her dad, Kyle, answer it at his desk.

“Hi, can I talk to Gia?” I asked.

“Hi, sweetie. How you doing?”

“I can’t find my words.”

“Uh-oh. That sounds pretty serious. Where do you think they are?”

“Maybe in my desk.”

“At school?”

“Uh-
huh.”

“Hang on. Let me see if I can find Gia for you. I bet she can help you out.”

“Thank you.”

Gia was acting like me with her mother, whining about something. Kyle ended up giving me the words, patiently spelling them out, over and over. I wished my dad was like Gia’s dad. I never heard him yell. He didn’t yell at Gia’s mom
, either. He was nice and fun, always throwing Gia and me around in the pool, laughing, and doing stuff with us all the time.

Like when we were on vacation. My dad wanted to work. Kyle wanted to have fun. He took us for ice-cream,
to amusement parks, went swimming in the ocean and sightseeing. He watched silly movies with us, one little girl curled under each arm. I always felt safe with Gia’s dad. He made me feel good. That’s about the age I started pretending that Kyle was my dad, married to my mom, and Gia got my workaholic dad and her mean mom. Her mom wasn’t really mean. She was just like my mom. All work and no play.

I think I was around ten when I started feeling things, like I could hear things.
I was spending the weekend with Gia so my parents could go away for their anniversary. Even at ten I knew how stupid it was. They would be fighting before they got there. It was impossible for them to be around each other that long without it.

“Why can’t
I go to Grandma’s? I don’t want to stay next door.”

“I’m not putting you on a plane
and sending you half way across the United States.”