Rick looks surprised. He looks at my Forever Dad and then looks back at me. “Not exactly,” he says. “It’s this.”
Then he hands me the present. It isn’t wrapped in wrapping paper. It is wrapped in a white-and-green bag that says Barnes & Noble on it instead. I take the bag in my hands and look at it closely. I shake it. It doesn’t make any sounds. I can’t guess what it is. But I know that I need to look excited so I open my mouth a little bit and smile and make my eyes big round circles. “What is it?” I say.
There are special kids bouncing balls and running all over the gym. “You’ll have to open it to find out,” says Rick.
My Forever Dad looks away and his eyes look up at the ceiling.
I open the present. Inside is a set of the Star Wars movies, Parts Four and Five and Six. I do not know where Parts One and Two and Three are. I start to ask him if he’s going to give me the first three movies too when he says, “I thought you should have the complete set.”
I want to tell him that it isn’t a complete set because the first three movies are missing but he keeps talking.
“Ginny,” he says, “I have to go now. You can send me emails, though. I’ll answer every single one. I promise.”
Then he puts his hand out to shake hands and I look down and shake it and then he hugs me. I do not recoil but I don’t hug him back. Because hugging back is like saying goodbye. Rick lets me go and moves back. “Shit, this is hard,” he says. He wipes his eyes. He nods to my Forever Dad and turns around and walks out of the gym.
When he is gone I look at the place where he was standing just seven seconds ago. I want to see him there again but I know he isn’t coming back. He’s going on a trip down south to drive truck.
I want to ask him about the respite. I want to ask him if he’s still going to pick me up from school on January 7th and bring me to his house.
“Dad?” I say in a soft voice. It is so quiet I almost don’t hear the words.
“What?” says my Forever Dad.
But I am not talking to him. I am talking to the only person who could bring me to the other side of Forever. To the other side of the equal sign. He is gone.
EXACTLY 11:33 IN THE MORNING,
FRIDAY, JANUARY 7TH
The bus didn’t come to get me at approximately 6:45 because there’s no school today. There was a snowstorm so school was cancelled which means no one goes there, not even the principal. I don’t know if the bells still ring when there’s no school. I don’t like it when school is cancelled. I don’t like unstructured time. That’s what Patrice calls it when there aren’t any bells or schedules.
I want to go out to play in the snow but my Forever Dad can’t take me yet. He has to finish cleaning up because my Forever Mom is upstairs with my Forever Sister. He cleans up all the time now. My Forever Mom will stay upstairs all day. It’s like she lives there.
I am trying to pick out a movie. I’m allowed to watch only one a day because I would watch movies all the time if no one said not to. My Forever Dad wants me to socialize more. He wants me to talk with them so that I can attach even though the only person to attach to now is him. Patrice says I still have a hard time with attachment.
But right now I’m having a hard time picking out a movie. It’s hard to pick one out because I have so many. I watched Baby: Secret of the Lost Legend on Monday. I watched The Princess Bride on Tuesday. I watched Madagascar on Wednesday. I watched Finding Nemo on Thursday.
Then I remember that Rick is gone. He isn’t going to pick me up today at school. Even if school wasn’t cancelled he still wouldn’t be there. My Forever Dad helped me understand. He said we don’t have any plans right now to reschedule the respite. Which means I’m not going up to Canada this weekend and my Baby Doll is all alone with Gloria.
It is too much to think about all at once. I want to scream. But someone will hear me.
I pick at my fingers instead. Then I pick up my quilt from my bed and hold it near my mouth and nose. My brain needs a rest so I turn around fast and grab the first movie I see. Return of the Jedi. It was on my dresser next to my Snoopy pad and my Michael Jackson pocket calendar.
I hold the DVD case and close my eyes. I remember that Samantha and Bill had Return of the Jedi but I’m not in their house right now. When I was there I had a Forever Sister named Morgan who pushed me and pinched me a lot when no one was looking so I pooped on her rug and wrote Please stop hurting me Morgan on the wall in her room and put the rest in her heat register. Dealing with Morgan was really tedious. I was there for only three months before that happened. Then the police came to take me away.
I sit down on my bed and open up Return of the Jedi and take the DVD out. A small piece of paper falls on my bed. Its edges are ripped and it has three blue lines on it which means it’s from a piece of notebook paper. I pick it up and look at it carefully. I don’t see anything on it. I turn it over and on the other side there is some writing.
It is a phone number.
The number is 555-730-9952 and underneath it is the letter G.
I look at it hard. I put it up close to my eyes. Then I understand.
I am holding Gloria’s phone number.
Which means Rick is still helping me even though I didn’t get to talk with him about going up to Canada. Because now I can call Gloria myself. I can tell her that her secret plan isn’t half bad. I can tell her that we can go up to Quebec where it’s pretty easy to disappear. She just has to find someone else to come give me a ride so she won’t get caught because that would ruin everything. And I have to tell her not to send any more presents or pizzas or anything else. And to just hold on a little longer and not hit my Baby Doll. All I need is a phone and a quiet place so I can tell her.
555-730-9952
In my brain I memorize the phone number.
I put the piece of paper in my mouth and chew and swallow. Now no one will ever find it. If I keep my mouth shut no one will know that the number is in my brain or that Rick helped me. He is the best dad I ever had.
EXACTLY 9:08 IN THE MORNING,
SATURDAY, JANUARY 8TH
When I wake up at nine in the morning I sit up and shut off the alarm clock and yawn like Chewbacca. I want to make a list of things to do. On it I will write Find a place to call Gloria but then I decide that writing it down would be a bad idea. Plus I don’t have a phone yet. So I get up and put my glasses on and walk out into the hallway and go to the bathroom. I come out and go to the dining room table and take my pill and sit down to drink my milk. I look closely at the glass of milk and see that there aren’t grapes next to it.
So I say, “There aren’t any grapes.”
And from another room my Forever Mom shouts, “Ginny, the grapes have to wait.”
I wait exactly nine seconds but still no one brings me any grapes so I say, “There were grapes here yesterday.” And then, “There are always grapes here. I’m supposed to have grapes every day to keep me regular.”
But my Forever Mom doesn’t say anything back. So I look up from where my grapes are supposed to be to see where she is. She is in the living room kneeling in front of my Forever Dad who is lying down. My Forever Mom is pushing on his chest and blowing in his mouth and putting her head on his chest like she is listening. Then pushing again and again and blowing some more and pulling her hair and pushing, pushing. My Forever Sister is sitting near the couch in its bouncy seat chewing its stuffed bunny.
So I say, “Approximately when will I get my grapes?”
My Forever Mom still doesn’t answer. She picks up her cell phone. It falls out of her hands. She picks it up and presses some buttons. Then she stands. “Ginny, Grammy and Granddad are on their way here right now. They’re going to watch you. An ambulance is coming to pick up your dad.”
“Will Grammy get my grapes?” I say.
My Forever Mom turns and picks up my Forever Sister and gives it a hug. “I have to put your sister down,” she says to me. “Just stay there at the table, all right, Ginny?” Then she walks upstairs.
Now it is 9:09. I am still sitting here with no grapes. I don’t have nine grapes or even fourteen. I have zero. My Forever Sister is too small to get my grapes. My Forever Dad isn’t getting up to get them. He is still lying on the floor not moving.
I start biting my fingernails. How long will I have to wait? I know where the grapes are but I’m not allowed to open the refrigerator without permission. It was different when I took the milk on the night of the Harvest Concert because I needed it for my Baby Doll. I don’t like to break rules or tell lies. It’s only okay to do if I’m trying to take care of my Baby Doll. It’s only okay if I have to. So I say, “Gee, I really, really wish someone would help me.”
No one answers.
I sit up big and tall so that I can see my Forever Dad’s face. His eyes are closed so I’m guessing his ears are closed too. “I’ll just sit here and wait,” I say to him. But still he doesn’t answer.
Now there are flashing lights in the driveway but they are not the same flashing lights that a police car makes. I see an ambulance parked there. Two men run to the door. My Forever Mom comes into the living room without my Forever Sister. She doesn’t say anything to me. She runs to the door and opens it and the two men come in. They are carrying black bags with handles. They kneel down in front of my Forever Dad and now I can’t see him at all. I see only the backs of the two men.
Then I see Granddad standing in front of me. He says, “Ginny, go into your room and get dressed. We’ll get your breakfast ready after that. Your mom and dad have to go to the hospital for a little while.”
I get up and push my chair in and go into my room. When I’m finished getting dressed I come out and sit down in my chair again. No one told me yesterday that Grammy and Granddad were coming to visit. I am surprised and confused.
Grammy comes into the dining room holding my Forever Sister. She hands it to Granddad and Granddad brings it into the living room. He sits down on the couch and starts looking at a book with it. Then Grammy comes out of the kitchen with a roll of paper towels. “I want to pick the snow up off the rug,” she says.
I see the snow. “Where did the snow come from?” I say.
“From the paramedics’ boots,” she says. “Ginny, everything is going to be all right. We’ll just do what you normally do in the morning, and we’ll wait for a call from your mom.”
“Where is she?” I say. Because I don’t see her. I don’t see my Forever Dad either.
“She is on her way to the hospital with your dad in the ambulance.”
I look at the floor. My Forever Dad isn’t where he used to be. “Can I have my grapes now?” I say. “I need to have exactly nine.” Because if I have my grapes it will be like nothing is happening. It will be like everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be.
EXACTLY 4:08,
MONDAY, JANUARY 10TH
“Would you like a hug?” says Patrice.
“No,” I say.
“Let’s just sit down, then.”
I sit in the flower chair and look around. I am thinking about how I’m going to find a phone to call Gloria. Adults keep their cell phones with them all the time so it’s really hard to borrow one without asking. Plus at school kids aren’t allowed to have cell phones. But kids still have them sometimes in their lockers or their backpacks. Maybe school is the best place to look.
“It was nice of your Grammy to bring you here,” says Patrice. “It’s great that your grandparents live so close by.”
I don’t say anything.
“Do you like having them stay with you?”
“No.”
“Ginny, your dad will be in the hospital for at least a week,” she says. “Do you know why?”
“He had a heart attack,” I say.
“Yes. He’s had high blood pressure for years, but there’s been a lot of stress at home lately. The doctors say he needs a different lifestyle. It’s not your fault. He just needs things to be simpler. It would have been great if you could have gone to live with Rick, but things didn’t work out the way everyone planned. I’m glad he’s going to stay in touch through email, though.” Then she says, “I’m sorry that things fell through. Rick and your Forever Parents just don’t agree. He wanted to raise you in a very different way than they did, in a way that was too...open. But there’s a very special place in Connecticut that your Forever Parents are looking at. I’d like you to look at it, too.”
Patrice takes out some papers with pictures on them. I see a brick building and little white cabins near a lake and lots of little girls in a big group. They are all wearing pink T-shirts and smiles.
Patrice puts the papers in my hand. “Am I going to this place?” I say.
“We’re not sure yet,” says Patrice. “But your parents are going to look at it as soon as your dad gets back. They’d like you to go have a look, too.”
Go have a look is mostly an expression. It means going there. “When are we going?”
“Probably a week after your dad comes home. It was only a mild heart attack, so the doctors are expecting an easy recovery. He’ll be home in about a week.”
“A week after he comes home,” I say. One week is plenty of time to find a cell phone and a quiet place to call Gloria.
“You know,” says Patrice, “your mom sent me the letter you wrote to Rick yesterday. It looks as though you’re still calling Krystal with a K your Baby Doll.”
I hear her but I’m not listening. “It’s my job to take excellent care of it,” I say.
“Yes, I know,” says Patrice. “Gosh, it’s been a long time since you were able to do that. How long has it been?”
“Five years,” I say.
“Right. I remember now. A lot has happened since then. You’ve gotten so much bigger! Do you know how many inches you’ve grown?”
I don’t so I shake my head no.
“Ten inches. That’s almost a whole foot! I wonder how much your Baby Doll has grown. After all, Baby Wendy is already a little bigger than she was when she came home from the hospital. She was twenty-two inches long when she came home. Your mom tells me she’s already twenty-four.”
“My Baby Doll is very small,” I say.
“Of course she is. But will she always be small?”
I start coming up out of my brain. Patrice is looking at me. My eyes look back but I don’t really see her. I see only my Baby Doll wrapped in my quilt. I see its tiny eyes and nose. It smiles when I lean close and waves its arms up and down. So excited! So excited!
“Yes,” I say. “Always.”
EXACTLY 6:32 IN THE MORNING,
TUESDAY, JANUARY 11TH
We are standing in the kitchen. Looking at each other. There is a white plastic bag behind her on the counter. I don’t know what’s in it.
“I need to spend a lot of time at the hospital,” my Forever Mom says, “but most of that time will be during the day while you’re at school. Grammy and Granddad will come over a lot to help out. I need you to—”
She stops talking and takes a breath. Her mouth makes a straight line. “I just need you to get through this. Without any incidents.”
“What’s an incident?”
“It’s something you do that’s unexpected,” she says. “Something that causes trouble. You know, like—”
She stops in the middle of her sentence. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I don’t want to give you any examples. I don’t want to put any bright ideas in your head.”
I don’t know what bright ideas means but I’m guessing it’s mostly an expression.
“I know you’ve been spending a lot of time
with your dad lately. I know you’ve gotten used to him, and he’s gotten used to you. And that’s great. It really is. But you need to be patient with me, Ginny. I have to be the one taking care of you now. For a little while, anyway.”
“Until he comes back?”
She looks away and then looks back. “Right. Until he comes back. After that we’ll see. Patrice will help us work through it. Let’s just go over the rules for this week, okay?”
I nod my head yes.
“The most important rule is one you already know. Do you remember it?”
“There is no reason for me to touch Baby Wendy whatsoever,” I say.
“Right. Good. Now, the next rule is that you have to make a list each day and follow it. Because it’s important for us to keep busy, isn’t it?”
I nod my head yes.
“Good. And when you make your list, you should show it to me, and I’ll add some extra things to it for you. There’s a lot of work to do around the house, now that your dad isn’t home to help out anymore. The extra things I’ll add to it will be a few more chores, like emptying the garbage or clearing the table. Maybe helping me bring groceries in after I come home from shopping, or sweeping off the cars when it snows. Nothing too hard or complicated. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Great. And the next rule is when Baby Wendy’s crying gets to be too much for you, you’ll go out and take a walk. Just get your hat and boots and go outside.”
“And my coat.”
“And your coat. And your gloves, too, of course. The point is when Wendy cries, you should go outside and get some fresh air. I can’t have you freaking out and screaming in your room like you do, or climbing out the window. Things like that are just too much, okay? So if you hear Wendy cry, and it’s light enough out, you should just go outside until she stops. And if it’s in the middle of the night...”
She turns around and takes something out of the bag. It is white and has buttons on it and looks like a radio.
Ginny Moon Page 18