by Lee Strauss
“EVENING, MA’AM,” THE OFFICER greeted my mother. Her stunned expression explained her lack of ability to respond. He pointed to Tim. “This here is your son?”
“Y-yes, he is. What’s the problem?”
“Your son was in the company of a young man caught stealing cigarettes from the convenience store off the highway. Because he was not involved directly and because it is his first encounter with the law, he is being handed over to you with a warning.”
He nodded at Tim who then took a step towards us. Tim towered over our mother by almost a foot, but our little mom made him wither with her glare. He slunk past us and up the stairs to his room. Mom thanked the officer for bringing Tim home safely. He tipped his hat and strutted back to his vehicle. I thought she’d rush upstairs and take a strip off of Tim, but instead she went to the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Richard?” I heard her say. “You need to come over right away.” She told him the whole story. I should’ve been angry at Tim, but instead I found myself smiling. Dad was coming over. Though, he’d plan to come the next day anyway, because it was my birthday. With all the drama going on in my life, I hadn't even had a chance to think about it.
Mom marched upstairs and instructed Tim to come down and wait with her in the living room.
“Mom,” he started, but Mom shut him up fast with a stern, “Wait until your father gets here!”
Know that saying—a watched pot never boils? That’s what it felt like waiting for Dad. Mom wouldn’t let Tim leave the room. And she wouldn’t let us watch TV. Just stretched out, thin, jittery silence. I wasn’t the one in trouble so I slipped up to my room. I couldn’t really concentrate on anything, though, what with Tim’s troubles and my own problems. I found my eyes glued to the window, watching for Dad. When his Passat finally turned into our drive, I lunged for my door and down the stairs. He wore a dress shirt, tie and suit pants. His dark eyes were squished into slits and his lips pulled down sharply.
Suddenly, I didn’t want to be there, and to be honest, if it were me in trouble, I wouldn’t want Tim lurking around, at least not in an obvious way. I sneaked back up the stairs and sat on the top step. I was out of sight, but could still hear everything. The lecture started and I pictured Mom and Dad hovering over Tim as he slunk down in the sofa. My mother: “Are you stealing?”
“No, you heard the cop. It was Alex. I told him not to do it.”
My father: “But you were with him?”
“So?”
My mother: “Are you smoking?”
“No.”
Liar! He lied about smoking, maybe he was lying about stealing.
My father: “If you’re not smoking, then why were you stealing cigarettes?”
“It wasn’t me. Alex smokes. He’s an idiot.”
Silence. Mom and Dad were pondering. Did Tim have them fooled?
My mother: “Casey, get down here.”
She knew I was listening. What did she want me for? I shuffled into the room, no longer excited about Dad being home and truly angry at Tim. “Casey, is your brother smoking?”
I folded my arms across my chest. Tim’s eyes widened slightly, pleading. Should I tell them the truth? Would that create enough punishment for Tim to make him want to stay out of trouble? Or would he just hate me forever? Break my parents’ trust or my allegiance to my brother? This was so unfair!
“Casey,” my father prodded.
“I don’t know.” A lie. “I have no idea what Tim does with his friends. It’s not like he confides in me.”
And a compromise. I didn’t tell them that he smoked, but I didn’t say he didn’t, either. Dad turned back to Tim, ran a hand over his almost bald head and breathed out loudly.
“Son, a man is only as good as his word.”
Tim folded his arms over his chest and said, “Yeah, Dad. That means a lot coming from you.”
Sometimes I think my brother is stupid with a capital S. Everyone sucked in a breath. The whole room seemed to empty of oxygen. Dad finally said, “Pardon me?”
My father may have screwed up, but he was still our father and deserved our respect. He didn’t cheat on us.
Maybe it was the spears coming from Dad’s eyes, but Tim seemed to shrink a bit. At least he was smart enough to realize he had crossed a line. He mumbled, “Sorry.”
A beat. Then thankfully, Dad said, “Apology accepted. However, you are grounded for the next month.”
“A month! But I didn’t do anything.” Mom crossed her arms.
“Would you prefer two months?” Tim squirmed but relented.
“Fine. Are we done now?”
I elbowed Tim as we went up the stairs. “If I ever do catch you smoking again, I am going to tell.”
“Whatever.” He sounded beaten. I hoped he had learned his lesson. But, for me it was a happy ending to an otherwise thoroughly unpleasant evening, because Dad stayed over. He slept on the sofa, but at least our whole family was under one roof, even if it was just for one night. Something about that just felt good.
I awoke to the sensational smell of French toast. In my sleepy haze I thought I was dreaming, but when I opened my eyes, the smell remained. Then I remembered— it was my birthday.
Mom surprised me. She’d gotten up early and decorated our kitchen. A Happy Birthday streamer hung across the dining room window and balloons were attached to my chair.
“Wow, Mom, this is great. I wasn’t expecting this.”
Mom was wearing make-up, and on a Saturday morning. Also a cute little blouse. Were those new jeans? She looked good. Did she do this because Dad was here? I hoped so. She wiped her hands on a towel and then wrapped her arms around me from behind my chair, giving me a good squeeze.
“You are worth it, sweetheart.” She kissed me lightly on the cheek. “Love you.”
Dad came in from the living room and sat down in the chair beside me. He took my hand and squeezed it. “Happy Birthday, Casey.”
“I’m so glad you're here, Dad,” I gushed. Tim straggled in sheepishly, muttering birthday greetings in my direction. The sweet cinnamon scent of thick French toast filled the house and made me happy. Mom passed around the sliced strawberries, and I dished three spoonfuls onto my eggy toast, piled on real whipped cream and drizzled sweet but low-fat syrup (just to balance out the calories), all over it.
“So, are you going to get your license?” Tim asked. I saw a hint of jealousy there. He still had a year to go.
I hedged. “I’m in no hurry.” Friends don’t drink and drive, don’t text and drive and don’t time travel and drive.
“As soon as I turn sixteen, I’m getting mine.”
My dad cleared his throat. “We’ll see about that.”
After we were finished eating, Mom brought the gifts to the table and I opened them. New jeans from Mom, a black T-shirt with a sketch of a wolf head from Tim, (at least he made an effort to get me something, and though not what I normally wear, it was kind of cool). Dad offered me a little gold box.
“Ooh, what’s this?” It was the most amazing silver cross necklace, with a little diamond in the center.
“It’s beautiful, Dad. Thank you.”
It was delicate and smooth and cool in my fingers. He helped me put it on. “I’m glad you like it.”
Afterwards, because I don’t see him as much as I’d like, I hung out with Dad in the living room. Some news journal show was on TV about adoption and how people who wanted to find their birth kids or birth parents could sign up on this list, and if both parties signed up, the agency would notify you. “Have you signed up, Dad?”
He shrugged. “I’m happy with the parents I have.”
“But aren’t you curious? Wouldn’t you like to know who your birth parents are?”
And why they didn’t keep you? “Maybe they’re trying to find you? Have you ever thought of that?”
I imagined Dad’s poor birth mother waiting eagerly by her phone for a call from the agency. “I don’t know if I want to open that can of worms,” he said. “S
ome things are better left alone.”
In the afternoon Lucinda plowed through the front door and gave me a big hug. “It’s your birthday and I’m taking you to the mall!” I disliked shopping, but even though I was still wearing Sponge Bob, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Get dressed, lazy bum!”
I broke into my birthday stash, slipping into the new jeans and tee. I wrestled my curls back with a brush, and pulled them into a ponytail. I showed off my new necklace to Lucinda. “Ooh, pretty. Your dad has good taste.” The closest mall was across town and required tricky highway driving. It’d snowed the day before and though the roads were plowed and heavily sanded, it still made me nervous.
“Are you sure you’re up to this, Luce?”
“Up to what?”
“Driving. In the winter,” I said as we left the house. “You know, ice and sliding into ditches and all that.”
“I’m not going to slide into the ditch.” We got into her car. “Now buckle up.”
I did, and with gritted teeth (mine) and white knuckles (mine), we eventually made it safely to our destination.
The mall was decked out for Christmas with red and green tinsel decorations and bright little white lights. Festive music pumped through the PA.
“Check out the crowds, Lucinda.”
I wasn’t sure why Lucinda had brought me here. She knew I didn’t like close quarters with people or, for that matter, shopping.
“It’s Christmas-time, Case. Loosen up. All the Christmas kiosks are up. Besides, I brought you here so I could buy you a birthday present. I want you to pick something you really like.”
We lapped the first level and the second with repeated darts into various stores— clothes, shoes, accessories. I didn’t think we’d agree on anything, even though it was my gift. Finally, Lucinda chose a lime and purple long-sleeved graphic tee, and held it up to my face.
“This would look so great on you!” Lucinda gushed. I just wanted the torture to end.
“Yes, I love it. Can you get this for my birthday? Please.”
Lucinda didn’t get the sarcasm. “See, Casey, it’s worth the effort, finding just the right one.” After she paid, she handed me the bag with, I admit, my really cool shirt. “Let’s go to the food court. I’m starving.”
We ordered two chocolate fudge sundaes and sat down. Lucinda removed a small gift bag—it had a picture of a birthday cake topped with zillions of lit candles on it—from her ginormous purse. “You already got me a gift.”
“So?” Lucinda said between bites. “I wanted to get you this, too.”
“Were you carrying this around with you the whole time?” I asked.
“Yup. So, open it.”
Lucinda’s gift was the latest Sponge Bob DVD. I laughed, “How’d you know?”
“I’ve known you a long time. Happy birthday, my friend.”
Ah, Warm Fuzzies. The hazard with having a birthday so close to Christmas was the tendency for people to give you one gift and say Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas. It meant a lot to me that Lucinda never did that.
“So, is it true that a police car was parked outside your house last night?”
That’s what happens when you live in the same place your whole life. Everyone knows your business. “How?”
She sucked on her plastic spoon and mumbled, “Facebook.”
“Well, apparently Tim’s made some new friends.”
“They always blame the friends. What did he do?”
I swallowed a small amount of hot fudge and cool vanilla ice cream. Normally I would gobble this up, but my stomach was still bloated from brunch. “He was with someone who shoplifted. At least that’s what he claims.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“I don’t know. I want to.”
“What did he steal?”
“Cigarettes.”
Lucinda nodded her head knowingly. She'd seen him smoking, too. “So, did they book him?”
“That’s very cop show, Luce. No, he got off with a warning.”
“Lucky.”
“Yeah.” I pushed my half-finished sundae to the side.
Lucinda eyed it. “You don’t want that?” I slid it her way. “Knock yourself out.” I tightened my ponytail.
“The good part is that Dad came over last night and he and my mom talked until, like, midnight.” All talk was good talk in my books, even if it was just about us kids.
Lucinda had stopped listening to me and was staring at something over my shoulder. I turned around. It was Nate and his buddies, Tyson and Josh. My stomach performed a double axel and nailed the landing. They carried trays of food and hadn’t spotted us yet. Lucinda tuned back in to me. “Do you want to go?”
“What? This is a prime guy gazing opportunity for you. Josh’s there.”
“True. But I understand if you want to go.” I thought about it. Was I going to run away every time I saw Nate? Would I let him rule my life like that?
“No, I’m fine. I’m over him.” Big Fat Liar am I. Our conversation came to a standstill. The guys were about to sit at a table right in my line of vision. Then he saw me. A slight tremor of shock evident in his eyes. Did I frighten him that much? Or did he despise me now?
He surprised me by choosing a chair that faced me. I was so used to looking at the back of his head, I didn’t know how to take this sudden change.
Every few minutes he’d glance up, catch my eye and quickly cut away, like he didn’t want me to catch him looking at me.
“What’s going on?” Lucinda said. She swiveled her chair for a better look.
“Nothing. Are you done yet?”
“Almost.” Lucinda scraped at the bottom of the dish that used to belong to me, her eyebrow still raised. Nate and I kept playing the ‘I’m staring at you but I don’t want you to catch me’ game. I knew why I was compelled to watch him. It perplexed me as to why he was having the same problem with me. He had made it pretty clear in the library that he wasn’t interested.
He stood up. But not with his friends. Alone. He locked eyes with me and walked in my direction. My blood pressure dropped. Maybe I have low blood sugar. I should have finished my sundae. I could hear Lucinda gasp. He sat down beside me. I really did feel sick.
“Hi,” he said. I had a sudden flashback of us riding in the Watson carriage sitting side by side. Dumb.
“Hi?”
He eyeballed the gift bag. “Looks like it’s someone’s birthday?”
“Um, it’s mine.”
“Really? You never mentioned you had a birthday coming up.”Lucinda’s eye’s flicked from my face to Nate’s.
“Well, you know, I’m kind of a private person.”
He held my gaze. “Yes, I do know that. Happy Birthday.”
Then two life-altering things happened at once. Jessica came up the escalator and spotted Nate sitting by me. He didn’t see her, because if he had he probably wouldn’t have done what he did next, a spontaneous and really dumb thing. He put his arm around me for a hug. And with the other hand, he grabbed one of mine and squeezed.
CHAPTER TWELVE