Tiger Eyes (16 page)

“Help … put me down …” Jason hollers.

I put Jason down and grab a carrot.

“You got a letter,” Jason says.

“Where?”

“On the table.”

It is a long white envelope. I hope it is from Wolf, but it’s not. It’s a greeting card. Outside there is a picture of Snoopy, looking forlorn. Inside it says,
Missing you, Valentine. Love, Hugh
.

I have forgotten that today is Valentine’s Day. I should have known—the cookies Jason is decorating are heart shaped.

I shove the Valentine inside my notebook. It is the first time I have heard from Hugh since September, when he wrote a short letter.

“Is Mom home yet?” I ask Bitsy.

“She’s upstairs, showering. Ned’s coming over for dinner.”

“Again?” I say, but I don’t wait for her to comment. I run upstairs and knock on Mom’s door. “I got the part!” I call.

Mom opens the door. She is wearing her old terry robe and drying her hair with a towel.

“What part?” she says.

I can’t believe this. “In
Oklahoma!
”

“Oh, honey … that’s wonderful.”

“You know how much I wanted it, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course. I thought you were talking about something else for a minute.”

She takes off the robe, tosses it onto the bed and begins to get dressed.

“Why are you wearing that?” I ask, as she pulls on her best shirt. It is teal blue silk and she saves it for special occasions. She wore it last year when she and Daddy celebrated their anniversary.

“I just feel like it,” Mom says. “We’re having company for dinner.”

“Who besides Ned?”

“No one.”

“I don’t consider
him
company. He’s around all the time. I figure Bitsy is about to adopt him, too.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I mean. Add him to her collection.”

“What collection?”

“Us. Jason, you, me … and now Ned.”

“Be reasonable, Davey.”

“I’m not the one who’s being unreasonable, Mom.”

Before dinner Jason gives me a Valentine and I feel badly that I don’t have one for him.

“Open it,” he says.

I open it and pull out a card made of red colored paper and a doily.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

I am your brother

And you are mine, too
.

“I’m your sister, stupid!” I say, laughing.

“I know,” Jason says, “but my teacher doesn’t. She thinks you’re a boy. You have a boy’s name.”

I hug him. “You’re a real character … you know that.”

“Watch it,” he says, “or Count Dracula might bite your neck.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, Count Dracula better watch it himself or I’ll bite him back.”

During dinner Mom tells The Nerd that I got a part in
Oklahoma!
He says that’s terrific and that he was once in the chorus of his high school play. When he smiles I see that he has a piece of lettuce caught in his teeth.

After dinner Bitsy and Walter leave for their weekly Bridge game and Jason and The Nerd sit at the dining room table working on a model airplane.

At nine, Mom tells Jason that it’s time to go upstairs. “Just a few more minutes,” Jason begs.

“It’s already half an hour past your bedtime,” Mom says.

“Oh, all right,” Jason says. “But I want Ned to carry me up …”

Ned scoops up Jason and throws him over his shoulder, upside down. Jason shrieks. I watch from the floor, where my books are spread out in front of me. I hate seeing Jason acting so chummy with The Nerd.

“Night, Mom … night, Davey … night, Minka …” Jason calls.

“Goodnight … sleep tight,” Mom answers.

I try to concentrate on the paper I am supposed to be writing for American Cultures, but I feel Mom looking at me. There is a lot of tension between us tonight.

“He has two children of his own,” Mom says quietly. “He misses them.”

“Whoop-dee-doo,” I say.

“Do you have to be so tough on him, Davey?”

“Who’s being tough?”

Ned comes back downstairs, whistling, and settles next to Mom on the sofa.

“Would you like a brandy?” Mom asks him.

“Brandy would be nice.”

Mom goes to the kitchen.

The Nerd smiles at me.

“You’ve got a piece of lettuce caught between your teeth,” I tell him.

He turns red. I have made him uncomfortable and I am glad. He picks the lettuce from his tooth, examines it, then deposits it in the glass ashtray.

Mom comes back with the brandy and two glasses. She pours each of them a small drink and they clink glasses.

I pretend to be engrossed in my school work but what I’m really thinking is, I’d like to dump the brandy over their heads and tell them how stupid and disgusting they are.

Mom says, “Why don’t you work at your desk, Davey?”

“Trying to get rid of me,
Mother?
” I ask.

“No, I just think your desk is the right place to do school work. The light isn’t very good in here.”

“Since when are you worried about my eyes … or anything else?” But I gather my books together, stand up, and leave the room.

T
he next morning, while I am getting ready for school, Mom comes into my room. “How would you like to have a session or two with Miriam?”

“Miriam?” I say. “Your shrink?”

“Yes. She’d like to meet you.”

“Since when?”

“She’s always wanted to meet you. And she’s easy to talk with,” Mom says.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell Mom.

Maybe I will go to see Miriam. There are plenty of things I’d like to tell her about my mother.

THIRTY-TWO

On Friday Jane gets drunk in school again and this time she makes a scene in the hallway. She throws her books against a row of lockers, whooping and laughing, and then she tosses her purse into the air. Everything tumbles out of it and crashes to the floor. Her mirror smashes into a million pieces and a bottle of Jean Naté breaks, leaving the hallway smelling like a perfume factory. I clean it all up and help Jane outside before she gets sick.

“You have a drinking problem,” I tell her.

“I can stop anytime I want to,” she says.

“Like hell!”

T
he next day I go to see Miriam. Mom has set up an appointment for me and although I think of cancelling at the last minute, I don’t. I walk over to her office during lunch period, munching on a sandwich.

Miriam turns out to be about forty. She is my height and somewhat overweight, but in a sexy way. Her shirt is unbuttoned enough so that you can tell she isn’t wearing a bra and when she walks across the room her breasts jiggle. She
hikes her skirt over her knees when she sits. She is wearing textured stockings and western boots. She runs her fingers through her short brown hair several times and smiles. She doesn’t seem the Los Alamos type at all. I’m surprised.

“So,” she says, “how do you like it here, Davey?”

“I don’t.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s such a bore.”

“Yes, it can be. But it doesn’t
have
to be.”

“Maybe not,” I say. I feel really uncomfortable, sure that Miriam is analyzing every word.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” Miriam asks.

We’re going to talk about the weather?
I think. What a waste of time. But I answer, “Yes, it’s a very nice day.”

“So, how are things at home, Davey?”

“I’m sure my mother’s already told you. We’re not getting along that well.”

“She mentioned that there’s been some tension.”

“That’s putting it mildly.”

“What do you think is causing it?”

“She is. She’s getting to be just like them.”

“Like who?”

“Walter and Bitsy. My aunt and uncle.”

“In what way?”

“Well, she doesn’t think for herself anymore. She does whatever they tell her to do. She lets them make all the decisions. She even lets them
choose her friends.” I look around the office, convinced that Miriam is recording this conversation so that she can play it back for my mother.

“You understand that what’s said in this room is between you and me … that it doesn’t go any further.”

I wonder how she knows what I am thinking. “You’re not going to tell my mother what I say?”

“No. I’m here to help you both, not to report on either one of you.”

“Oh.” I sit quietly, folding, then unfolding my hands.

“What bothers you most about your mother becoming more like Walter and Bitsy?”

“They’re afraid of everything.”

“Like what?”

“They won’t let me learn to ski, they won’t let me take Driver’s Ed … Santa Fe is dangerous, the canyon is dangerous, just breathing is dangerous!”

“You feel they’re overprotective?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Did your mother used to be less protective … did she let you try new things before?”

“Always.”

“Do you think her reluctance to let you try new things now comes from the circumstances of your father’s death?”

“I don’t know,” I say, looking out the window. “Maybe.”

“Are you afraid of anything, Davey?”

I shrug and don’t answer.

Halfway through our session Miriam says, “What about Ned … how do you feel about him?”

“Ned?” I say, as if I have never heard the name.

“Ned … your mother’s friend,” Miriam says.

“Oh … you mean The Nerd.”

Miriam laughs and runs her hands through her hair. “Is that what you call him?”

“Not to his face.”

“I see.”

“I think he’s a creep,” I say, “and I don’t care if you tell my mother because it’s true.”

Miriam nods.

“My father was very handsome and he was smart, even though he never went to college. And he was funny, too. No one around here has any sense of humor. If it weren’t for Jason nobody in our house would ever laugh. But my father always had us in stitches.”

“You miss him.”

“Yes, I miss him.” I feel myself choking up and turn away.

“You’re angry, aren’t you?” Miriam says.

“Sometimes,” I tell her.

“It’s okay to feel angry,” Miriam says. “As long as you admit it and try to understand it.”

When my hour is up I tell Miriam about Jane and her drinking. Miriam hands me some literature
and suggests that I get Jane over to the Alcohol Abuse Clinic. “There’s no charge,” she says. Then she asks if I will come to see her again.

“Maybe,” I say. I’m still not sure that I can trust her. So I go home and write another letter to Wolf. There are six of them in the trunk now. I wonder how long it will be before the lizards run again.

THIRTY-THREE

The first orchestra rehearsal of
Oklahoma!
is held on the afternoon of my sixteenth birthday, and when I get home from school I find that Bitsy has fixed a special dinner, with my favorite foods—chicken marengo, spinach noodles and watercress salad. She has invited Jane over. I am surprised, and pleased. The Nerd is there too. He gives me a T-shirt that says,
A Woman Without a Man is Like a Fish Without a Bicycle
. He tells us that he sent away for it after seeing the ad in
MS
Magazine. I don’t get it but everyone else seems to think it’s funny, so I laugh along with them and thank The Nerd. Bitsy and Walter give me a digital watch. I didn’t expect anything so grand and I am really touched. I kiss Bitsy on the cheek. And then I have to thank Walter. I haven’t said a word to him since the night he insulted my parents and slapped me. Now I face him. “Thank you very much.” I say it formally.

“You’re welcome,” he answers in the same tone. “Enjoy it.” He doesn’t look at me. I get the feeling he is as uncomfortable about that night as I am.

Mom gives me a beautiful silver and turquoise
bracelet. It is my first piece of Indian jewelry. I put it on my right wrist, since I am already wearing my new watch on my left. Jason has painted a picture for me and has written another poem. This one says,

Roses are red

Violets are blue

You are my friend

And I am yours, too
.

“Is that better?” he asks.

“Yes … much,” I tell him, giving him a hug.

“Hey … let go,” he says. “You’re squeezing my hemorrhoids.”

“What hemorrhoids?” I ask, surprised.

“Ha ha,” he laughs. “Fooled you, didn’t I?”

Even though I am having a good time I can’t help thinking that my father and I had planned a weekend trip to New York for my sixteenth birthday. He was going to take me to a Broadway play. We used to talk about it all the time. I wonder if Mom remembers.