A Brew in Time

by Robin Roseau

  “The credits transfer.”

  “There are good 2-year degree programs for some fields,” Aunt Jackie said. “If you are interested in one of those fields, community college is a good choice. The other biggest reason to start there is financial.”

  “And that isn’t a consideration,” Mom inserted.

  “All right,” I said.

  “Honey,” Aunt Jackie said gently. “If you live at home, then you’re missing an important part of going away.”

  “College keggers?”

  “A transition to adulthood.”

  “So college keggers.”

  They both snorted. “Not just keggers, although I suppose that’s part of it. New adults need to learn to be adults. College provides a transition period where the mistakes you make are somewhat contained, and where you don’t starve to death if you don’t know how to cook.”

  “I’ve done a lot of growing up over the last four years.”

  “You have,” Mom agreed. “And the next four and the four after that are important periods. After that, things settle down. You’re not really an adult until 25.”

  “Are you telling me you want me to go away?”

  “No. I’m making sure you’ve considered everything. Your father, aunt, and I will all support you as long as you make well-reasoned choices.”

  “Well, I think going away would be irresponsible. It’s more expensive. I need to continue studying with Aunt Jackie. And I have a little sister I love.”

  “Is this about Janie?” Mom asked.

  “No. I want to work for Jay-jay next summer.” I shifted my gaze back to Aunt Jackie. “Do you think I could keep working for her during the school year?”

  “Very, very part time,” she replied.

  “Community college is more flexible.”

  “You haven’t even started that job, and now you’re planning your life around it?” Mom prompted.

  I dropped my gaze, not wanting to admit she was making a good point. “Kids work while going to school.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “But you have two primary responsibilities, darling. Studying, and studying. Isn’t that what you’ve said this is about?”

  I paused, then nodded. I looked up. “I may not have considered every detail, but I think I’ve considered the most important ones.” I paused. “I want a car.”

  “Ah,” Mom replied, leaning back. That was when our food arrived, distracting us for a few minutes until she asked, “Is that what this is about?”

  “No. We don’t live on a bus line. Even if we did, I bet it’s an hour each way on the bus, wherever I go. Am I wrong?”

  “Probably not,” she admitted.

  “And frankly, I don’t think I can afford the time.”

  “You can study on the bus,” Aunt Jackie pointed out.

  “I can get molested on the bus, too,” I countered.

  Two pairs of lips tightened, but neither of them commented on that little bombshell. Instead, Aunt Jackie asked, “Are you saying you want a car today?”

  “Summer, to get to my job, and then to go to school in the fall.”

  She nodded and then leaned and whispered something to Mom. There was a pause, then Mom nodded. Aunt Jackie turned back to me. “I’m due.”

  “Due for what?”

  “A new car.”

  “You’re giving me your car?”

  “No. I’m offering to sell you my car. You may give me a down payment from your first check from Jay-jay. After that, I want 50 dollars a month. That’s only 600 a year. You better save that from what Jay-jay pays you.”

  “How long?”

  “You may have it for ten percent under blue book value.” She had to explain what that meant. “I don’t know off hand. It’s not the cheapest car you’ll find. It’s probably newer than you were expecting. You’ll also have to pay your own insurance, which means you’ll need to save for that, too. I recommend you put money in a separate account and don’t touch it for anything else. You will keep up with your payments and insurance, and you will provide evidence to me that you are doing so. If you fail your financial obligations, I will repossess the car and sell it.”

  “I need to know how much it’s really going to cost.”

  “Your father won’t let you buy a car you could afford with cash,” Mom said. “Or did you expect us to buy one for you?”

  “If I go somewhere cheap, it’s saving you a ton of money,” I pointed out.

  “That’s a really good try, Lydia. Are you being serious?”

  “No,” I admitted. “Aunt Jackie, your car is more expensive than I was expecting, though.”

  “It’s only $50 a month,” she replied. “Unless you convince your parents to loan you the money, you won’t be able to get a bank to make a loan against a cheaper car. However, we have five months before you need to decide. You’re free to look. If you think you’re interested, I’ll wait. I was going to wait until spring, anyway, so it’s only a few extra months.”

  “Are you really going to let me have a car, Mom?”

  “You’re an adult, Lydia.”

  “Living under your roof.”

  “You’re an adult, Lydia,” she repeated. “We’ll let you have a safe, reliable car, but you are responsible for the financial burden. We’ll figure parking out. That probably means you’ll park near the end of the driveway and as far to one side as you can, so whoever is behind you can pull in and out. Your father will have more to say about that.”

  I held my hand across the table to my aunt. “I don’t have to think about it.”

  She smiled and shook my hand. “All right, then. We’ll make arrangements once you have your down payment and insurance payment.”

  “I’ll be applying to local schools,” I declared.

  “All right,” Mom said. “Good talk?”

  “Good talk,” I agreed. “Thank you.”

  * * * *

  I had a plan for my life. I didn’t have a specific school yet, but I checked out my choices and then applied to three schools around the city. With my grades and my SATs, I was sure I could get into any of them, and I would ultimately be accepted at all three.

  It was years later that I wondered if letting Janie spend nights had been a bribe of some sort. I’ve never asked.

  Relationship

  “Hey, Squirtlet!”

  My little sister gave out a squeal and then ran to me. I knelt down, and she flew into my arms. Who couldn’t love someone who greeted her so exuberantly?

  It took time to get her ready to go. Jacket, hat, mittens, where’s the missing mitten? Check everything, then take her hand. She waved to her friends, and then we headed for the door.

  By now, she knew how to get into her car seat, but I stood by the door and helped her, then checked everything. “You’re good to go, Squirtlet.”

  “Where’s Janie?”

  “We’re picking her up next. I promised her she could tickle your toes.”

  “You did not!”

  “I guess we’ll see,” I said, closing the door. I climbed in ahead, started the car, then looked at her in the mirror. “You good back there, Sere?”

  “I’m good, Lydia.”

  “I’m not as experienced a driver as Mom and Dad, so you have to be extra good, okay?”

  “Okay. Can I have a juice box when we get home?”

  “Absolutely. I made sure there were some cold ones waiting for you.”

  “Thank you, Lydia.”

  “You’re welcome. Okay, here we go.”

  Janie was waiting for us, and she was out her front door even before the car was in park. She climbed in, gave me a tiny peck, then looked back at Serephine. “Heya, Sere!”

  “Hi, Janie! That was a lousy kiss.”

  She laughed. “Maybe I’ll give her a better one when we get to your house. Or are we going somewhere else first?”

  “Home,” I said. “Serephine got a game for Christmas, but I haven’t been home to play it with her.”

  “Perfe
ct,” Janie said.

  It wasn’t a long drive, and I drove carefully. Janie talked to Serephine, asking about her day, and then we were home.

  It was Janie who helped with the juice box. I cut up some vegetables for a snack, and then we carried everything into the living room. I’d already set her new game on the coffee table. Serephine giggled when she saw it, and then spent the next ten minutes explaining the rules.

  We didn’t tell her that was unnecessary, as both Janie and I had played when we were her age.

  Mom got home a little early. She stood in the doorway, watching, until Serephine looked up and saw her. “Mommy!”

  Mom scooped up her youngest. Janie and I stood up, and I said, “You’re home early. Where’s Dad?”

  “I got a ride from a coworker,” she said. “If the two of you want a little time together, I can take care of your sister. Hi, Janie.”

  “Hi, Merry.”

  “You have an hour, then I want help,” Mom added. “Until your father comes home, one of you to see to Sere, and one to help in the kitchen. Set an alarm.”

  I smiled, nodded, then took Janie’s hand and pulled her to my room. Inside, we grinned at each other. “We don’t have time for what I want to do,” she declared.

  “I love you,” I told her, pulling her to me. We wrapped around each other, kissing deeply, still kissing as we made our way to my bed. We fell down on it, giggling, then worked our way up until we were lying on the pillows, facing each other. Then we stared at each other. I’m not sure what she was thinking, but I was just so happy to be with her.

  “There’s something I want to do,” she said.

  “You said we don’t have time.”

  She giggled. “Something else.” She rolled onto her back. “Cuddle with me. Lay your head here.” She patted the front of her shoulder. So I moved into her, pressing all along her side, and we got comfortable. She sighed. “I’ve thought about this more times than I can remember.”

  “This, what?”

  “Just this. Lying like this.”

  “Is my head too heavy?”

  “Your head is perfect.”

  We lay like that, talking quietly, I’m sure about important things. At some point, my hand slipped inside her sweater and blouse, against her skin, eventually coming to rest cupping her bra. From outside the sweater, she clasped a hand to me, holding me there, and said simply, “Yes.” She turned her head. “You may always touch me any way you want to.”

  “And you may touch me any way you want to,” I replied.

  Writing it, it seems a little, I don’t know. Not stupid. Something. But at the time, it seemed momentous, or at least definitely important. And maybe it was important. And maybe there was an undercurrent. We weren’t simply giving permission to each other. We were expressing desire.

  She wanted me to touch; I wanted her to touch.

  * * * *

  New Year’s Eve arrived. Mom and Dad both worked during the day. I stayed home with Serephine, and Janie came over at lunchtime. Dad came home early. He spent a minute with us, but then headed upstairs with some tools and a bag from the hardware store.

  We were hosting a very small party that night. Summer came for dinner. Aunt Jackie and Phoebe stopped by later, but they were joining a larger event, so they only stayed a while.

  Summer stayed until the countdown, then declared herself turning into a pumpkin. We saw her out, and ten minutes later, Janie and I headed upstairs. There, I encountered a surprise.

  I stared at the door handle for a good ten seconds. Janie finally asked me, “What?”

  “Dad changed the handle on my door.”

  “Huh,” she said. Then her eyes widened. “Well.”

  Two minutes later, there was a knock. We weren’t in bed yet, so I slipped over and opened the door. Mom slipped in. “I presume you noticed.”

  “Why is there a lock on my door?”

  “Because I don’t always knock first, and I’m not sure your little sister even knows how. I don’t want you using it every minute you’re in here, but if you’re doing something we can’t walk in on, it’s your fault if the door isn’t locked. And you should know; your father didn’t even tell me until after he did it.” She smiled. “The two of you are on breakfast duty in the morning.” Then she was gone, and I stared after her before turning around.

  “Your mom is blunt,” Janie said.

  “She sure is,” I agreed.

  “I think you should lock it.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Intervention

  Life continued. I couldn’t have been happier. School was good. I continued to learn from Aunt Jackie.

  And I was deeply, hopelessly in love.

  Janie stayed overnight either every Friday or Saturday night. Mom added to the rules, telling us we were responsible for either dinner that night or family breakfast in the morning then told us if we picked breakfast all the time, we had to learn a variety of choices. “You’re not just going to make pancakes every Saturday morning, and no, Swedish pancakes are still pancakes.”

  Cooking with Janie was fun. Everything I did with Janie was fun.

  Have I mentioned how much in love I was?

  But it was in the morning on the last Thursday in January when Mom told me, “You have plans this evening.”

  “I do?”

  “With your mother.”

  “What are we doing?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  I studied her. She didn’t look like it was something good, so it was something bad. “Did I do anything wrong?”

  “No, darling. You’re perfect.”

  “’Cause it feels like maybe I did something wrong.”

  “Are you feeling guilty about something and care to confess?”

  “No, but if you give me a hint, it might prompt my memory.”

  “You’re perfect, darling, as best I can tell. I don’t want you talking about this with anyone, however.”

  “Mom.”

  She kissed my cheek. “I love you. Go to school.”

  Yes, I fretted all day. I fretted when I got home, and I fretted through dinner. And I really fretted when Mom told me, “We’ll finish cleaning up later. Get your coat.”

  In the car, I told her, “You’re scaring me.”

  “I thought you trusted me.”

  “You’re not acting like you’re taking me out to buy a new dress,” I said. “This is something serious. Why won’t you just tell me?”

  She pulled over and put the car into park then looked at me. There was pain in her eyes. “Are you sick?” I asked.

  “No,” she said firmly.

  “Are you taking me to one of those pray-the-gay-away bullshit places?”

  “How can you even ask that?”

  “Something is wrong!” I said firmly. “And it’s not something small.”

  “You’re right,” she replied. “Something is wrong, and someone needs your help.”

  “Mine?”

  “Someone is making a mistake, and she needs you to help her make the right choices. I don’t want to tell you the rest, because if I do, I’m going to tell you what to do, and I’m trying very, very hard not to do that.”

  “Why me?”

  “No one is sick; no one is in trouble. I’m not even going to dignify that other question with a denial. But we’re driving to an intervention. Do you know what that is?”

  “It’s when someone is a drug addict or alcoholic or something and everyone gets together and makes them feel like shit about it.”

  “Well, we’re not going to make anyone feel like shit,” she replied. “And you aren’t the target of the intervention.” She paused. “And it’s not drugs or alcohol or anything bad, not really. It’s just a big mistake that could… affect the rest of her life.” I thought she was about to say it differently, but she left it like that. “Okay?”

  “I guess.” No, not really.

  Five minutes later, I stared at Janie’s house. Mom got o
ut of the car then came around to my door. I stared, not climbing out right away, not until she actually half climbed across me to unbuckle my belt. “Mom?”

  “I love you, darling. Nothing has changed. Someone needs your help, and we’re meeting here.”

  I let her pull me from the car, but she nearly had to drag me to the door. She rang the bell, and Janie opened it with a smile then said, “Was I expecting you?”

  “I wasn’t expecting me,” I replied.

  “Your mother invited us,” Mom said. She pushed past Janie, pulling me behind her before dropping my arm.

  I stepped to Janie and asked, “What’s going on?”

  “I didn’t know anything was until the bell rang,” she replied.

  “Thank you for coming,” Summer said, stepping into the room. She had a coffee pot, cups, and a little bucket of sodas. She set them down on the coffee table and then turned to Mom. The two greeted, and then she gestured to the chairs.

  “What’s going on?” Janie asked. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Mom called it an intervention,” I said. “As Summer was expecting us, and as Mom seems to know what’s going on, and as she told me it isn’t about me, that means it’s about you, unless someone else is coming.” I reached for her hand, and then the two of us turned to our mothers. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re going to chat,” Summer said.

  “I know for a fact that Janie isn’t doing drugs. If anyone in this room has smoked pot, it’s not either of us.”

  “I told you this isn’t about drugs,” Mom said. She pointed. “Sit. Both of you.” Then she paused. “Do you two know the phrase ‘plausible deniability’?”

  “That’s when someone claims to not tell the president something so he can lie when he said he didn’t know anything about it,” Janie said.

  “Lydia doesn’t know anything so she can honestly tell you she is nearly as blindsided about this as you are, Janie,” Mom said. And then she pointed.

  Janie glared. I was heart-stricken. But then she said, “Fine,” and stomped her way to the sofa, folding her arms and glaring in turns at each of our mothers. I followed her and sat down beside her, putting my arm around her. She remained stiff, but she didn’t push me off.