“Thanks for talking to me about it,” Caroline said, breathing a sigh of relief. “It means a lot that you told me.”
“I figured I owed you. You told me about Emily Kaplan, so I thought I should throw you a bone.”
“Throw me a bone?”
“Yeah,” Polly said. The smile had returned to her face. “I wasn’t going to tell you about losing my virginity or anything like that. But I thought I owed you something.”
“Gee, thanks,” Caroline said, praying that the virginity comment was just a joke.
twelve
In an ideal world, Caroline would’ve driven directly to Emily Kaplan’s house, knocked on her front door, said what she had to say, and left town without her mother ever knowing that she had ever been there.
This world was anything but ideal.
Caroline’s mother had mentioned months ago that Emily was still living in Blackstone. “She owns that goddamn knickknack store,” she had said. But Caroline didn’t know where Emily Kaplan, whose last name was no longer Kaplan, lived. She would need her mother to provide that information, and that would not come without many questions.
Questions Caroline wanted to avoid.
Penelope Waters still lived in the same small house on Main Street that she had moved into with her daughters after her husband had left. She had transformed the shabby rental into one of the better homes on the street—only now, it wasn’t a rental. Penelope bought it after Caroline had finished school. She had put the house together, as she had put her life back together, bit by bit. With a lot of work and what Caroline assumed had been a significant financial investment, the house no longer resembled the run-down eyesore that had embarrassed Caroline as a teenager. The house, which now served as her mother’s place of business as well as her home, abutted the Blackstone River. What was once a trash-strewn embankment leading to the water had been transformed into a gentle, rocky slope. The house itself—red with white shutters—was surrounded by a pristine front lawn and immaculate landscaping. A wide front porch, another post-Caroline addition, gave the home a welcoming air. Caroline often wondered why her mother had chosen to remain here when she could’ve moved to a better home in a better location long ago. She suspected it had something to do with Lucy.
Caroline pulled into the driveway, maneuvering her car alongside a black minivan and her mother’s Buick. For a moment, she considered turning around and coming back later. The minivan was undoubtedly a customer’s car. And Caroline hated to be around when her mother was working.
Not Polly. She leaned forward in her seat. “Oh good!” she said. “Maybe Nana has a customer.”
“I’ll never understand your fascination with her business,” Caroline said.
“You should be proud of Nana. She’s doing something she totally made up. She’s like an inventor. Like Steve Jobs or that asshole, Thomas Edison.”
“No kidding,” Caroline said, thinking about Tom’s odd assemblage of careers. No one in her family seemed to be able to hold down a normal job. “Wait. Thomas Edison was an asshole?”
“Mom, he used to electrocute elephants just to prove that his electrical system was better than Tesla’s.”
“Was it?”
“If it was really better, would he be electrocuting elephants?”
“Good point,” she said. “And by the way, Steve Jobs was kind of an asshole, too.”
“I’ll give you that. But he didn’t murder pachyderms.”
Polly rang the bell. The door opened a moment later to reveal a sixty-five-year old woman who looked and moved as if she were at least fifteen years younger. Penelope Waters had short, blond hair, a petite figure and a perpetual smile, which was bizarre, because when Caroline was growing up, her mother had rarely smiled, never laughed, and did everything she could to avoid conversation. Caroline understood her mother’s depression. She had been depressed herself. But she couldn’t help but resent her mother’s miraculous resurgence after she had left for college. She was a person who Caroline barely recognized. In many ways, she no longer felt like she knew the woman who had once been her mother.
“Hi, Nana!” Polly said, stepping into the kitchen.
“Your mother didn’t tell me you were coming, too.”
“I didn’t?” Caroline said.
“You most certainly didn’t. Not that it’s a big deal. I’m always happy to see my Polymath! She can sleep on the pullout.”
“Polymath?”
“It’s what I started calling her last time she stayed with me.”
“I hate to ask,” Caroline said. “But what’s a polymath?”
“Mom’s kind of the opposite of a polymath,” Polly said.
“Don’t be mean,” Caroline’s mother said. “A polymath is someone who knows a lot about a lot of things. Polly is like a walking talking Internet.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Polly said. “I just remember the good stuff.”
“I wish you would’ve remembered to tell me you were coming,” Caroline’s mother said.
“Sorry,” Caroline said. “I didn’t mean to not tell you. And we might not be staying overnight anyway.”
“Mom has a lot on her mind,” Polly said with a wry smile. “She’s plotting revenge.”
“Really?” Her mother sounded overly invested already. “Revenge against who?”
“No one,” Caroline said.
“Emily Kaplan,” Polly said. “The Wicked Bitch of the West.”
“Polly!” Caroline said.
“What is she talking about?” her mother asked.
“Can I please take off my coat before you start grilling me?”
“Fine. I have a customer in the living room anyway. We’re almost finished. Put your things in the guest room and come join us. You might be of some help.”
The guest room had once been Caroline’s childhood bedroom, though nothing of her childhood remained. It was on the second floor, directly across the hall from the bedroom that had once belonged to Lucy. The door to her sister’s bedroom was shut, as it always was.
Caroline and Polly removed their coats and tossed their belongings onto the bed. Polly picked up the teddy bear placed on the center of the bed. “Was this yours when you were a kid?”
“Nope. Purely decorative.”
“Nana went to a store and bought a decorative teddy bear?”
“I guess so.”
Polly scanned the room. “Is anything in here left over from when you were a kid?”
Caroline took a second to inventory the contents of the room. “I don’t think so.”
“Isn’t that weird?” Polly asked. “Losing your room to a bunch of future guests?”
“Not weird,” Caroline said. “Sad, though.”
“Sound weird to me,” Polly said. “Growing up sucks.”
Caroline agreed but didn’t say so. She used the bathroom, spending an extra minute or two in front of the sink, washing her hands and fiddling with her hair. After stalling for as long as possible, she succumbed to Polly’s pleas and the two of them made their way down the stairs and into the living room.
Caroline’s mother was sitting on the edge of the couch, leaning forward. Sitting in the love seat opposite was a thin, pale man in his thirties. His hands were folded in his lap, and he was sitting stock straight, which made him look like an altar boy during a Sunday morning service. A glass coffee table filled the space between the man and her mother. Atop the table were a box of tissues and two small, wooden boxes.
Caroline’s mother rose. “Caroline, Polly—this is George Durrow. George, this is my daughter, Caroline, and my granddaughter, Polly.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Polly said, waving a hand and offering a smile.
George Durrow nodded in their direction and returned his gaze to the two wooden boxes in front of him.
“George is trying to decide upon a vessel. He’s narrowed his choice down to two. I thought maybe you could help him. Offer another perspective.”
Polly took t
he seat on the couch beside George Durrow and lifted the wooden box closest to her off the table. It was about the size of a shoe box, made from a dark, red wood and was decorated with inlays of roses and a crucifix on the lid.
“Who did you lose?” Polly asked.
Durrow turned and stared at Polly for a moment, appearing to size up the girl sitting beside him. “Her name was Tutu.” He paused for another moment and then added, “She was a cockatoo.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Polly said.
George Durrow’s gaze returned to the box still sitting on the table. He lifted it and began turning it over in his hands. It was made from the same red wood as the one Polly had. “I like that one a lot,” Polly said.
“Yeah?” Durrow asked.
“Yeah. I always like the ones without any religious stuff on them. There’s no way of knowing how our pets felt about God, so I always think it’s better to play it safe and keep God and Jesus and all that other junk off the vessel.”
“You can call it a coffin,” Durrow said. “It’s okay. I mean, that’s what it is.”
“Coffin, then,” Polly said, smiling back. “I like that coffin a lot. Are you having a memorial service, too?”
“Just a private burial,” Durrow said, his gaze shifting down to his sneakers. “Just me and Tutu.” He swallowed hard. “People never think of birds the same way as dogs or cats. They’d think a service would be silly.”
“Which is ridiculous,” Polly said. “Since birds can live a lot longer than dogs or cats.”
“Exactly,” Durrow said, his smile returning. “My parents gave me Tutu when I was eight years old. That was almost thirty years ago. Tutu outlived my mother.”
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with wanting a service for Tutu,” Polly said. “If it’s what you want, you should just do it. Fuck the people who think it’s silly.”
Caroline wanted to reprimand Polly for her use of language, but the ever widening smile on George Durrow’s face stopped her in her tracks.
“I’ll take this one,” he said, passing the wooden box to Penelope.
“Okay, George,” she said. “I like it, too. Will there be anything else?”
“Can we make appointment for next week?” he asked. “After the burial?”
“Of course. I’m going to need a few minutes to finish up the paperwork and give you a final total, so we can put something on the calendar after I’m finished. Okay?”
“Sure,” Durrow said. “No rush. Would you like me to come back later to settle things? When your family isn’t here?”
“No, it won’t take but a few minutes.”
“Do you have a plot picked out?” Polly asked.
“Yes, we did that first,” Durrow said, smiling again.
“Can I see it?” she asked.
“Sure,” he said. “Is it all right with you, Penny?”
“Of course. I’ll have everything ready when you get back.”
Polly and Durrow rose. “We can go through the back door,” Polly said. “Right, Nana?”
“Of course,” she said. “Just lead the way for Mr. Durrow.”
Polly and Durrow left the room as Penelope flipped through several sheets of paper on her lap. “That poor man,” she said. “Birds are the worst. No one understands how attached a person can get to a bird. Did you hear what George said? He and Tutu had been together since he was a kid.”
“Yeah, it’s a shame,” Caroline said, trying to sound sincere but knowing she did not. “I still can’t believe how seriously Polly takes this stuff. I know you told me that she was good at it, but I’d never seen her in action before.”
“It’s not hard, Caroline,” her mother said. “You just have to be willing to accept death as a part of life.”
“That must be it,” Caroline said flatly. “I can’t accept death.”
“It’s not funny,” her mother said.
“I never said it was.”
“I’m serious,” her mother said. “I can’t remember the last time I heard you say her name.”
“I’m not the one preserving her bedroom like some museum exhibit.”
“What’s wrong with wanting to keep the memory of my daughter alive? It’s not as if I’m pressed for space. Maybe if you set foot in there sometime, you would understand what it feels like to be able to stand in your sister’s presence again.”
“That’s not my sister,” Caroline said, pointing in the direction of Lucy’s bedroom. “It’s just a collection of old toys and furniture and clothing. It’s no different than those headstones in the backyard. It’s like a big, furnished gravestone up there.”
“There’s nothing wrong with spending a little time visiting the dead. You should try it sometime.”
“She has a gravestone,” Caroline said. “If I want to visit her, that’s where I’ll go. Not into a bedroom filled with Barbie dolls and Baby-Sitters Club books.”
Caroline stared a moment at her mother. How they had found themselves down this road again, and so quickly?
Her mother rose from the desk. “Lucy,” she said.
“What?” Caroline snapped.
“Lucy,” her mother repeated. “Your sister’s name was Lucy. In case you forgot.”
Caroline turned and left the room.
thirteen
“This is why you came home? To get even with a high school friend for something she said to you twenty years ago?” Penelope asked.
“I know,” Polly said, her mouth half full of turkey sandwich. “Can you believe it? It’s like the most badass thing that Mom’s ever done.”
They were sitting at a small kitchen table, eating sandwiches off paper plates and drinking lemonade from tall glasses. Caroline had finally explained the purpose of their trip to her mother. She had tried to leave out the details of the cafeteria incident, glossing over the event with a few simple sentences, but Polly would have none of it, quickly filling in the gaps that Caroline was trying to avoid. Polly loved the story, sharing each detail as if it was a tiny treasure.
“I don’t know why you’re smiling,” Caroline said to Polly. “There’s nothing funny about this at all.”
“I don’t think it’s funny,” Polly said. “I think it’s freakin’ amazing. I thought it was crazy last night, but now I’m all in.”
“I’m not trying to be funny,” Caroline said. “And I’m not trying to be amazing. It’s just something I need to do. It’s been hanging over my head for too long.”
“So you’re going to knock on Emily’s door and tell her that she was mean to you in high school,” Penelope said. “Then, what—demand an apology?”
“I think she should punch the bitch in the nose!” Polly said, bits of turkey and cheese flying from her mouth.
“Polly!” Caroline and Penelope snapped in unison.
Polly directed her attention to the potato chips on her plate, a reaction that Caroline knew was more in response to her grandmother’s disapproval than her own.
“I don’t know what I’m going to say when I get to Emily’s house,” Caroline said. “Not exactly, at least. But I’ll figure it out when I get there.”
“You should knock on the door instead of ringing the bell,” Polly said. “It’s totally more aggressive.”
“Caroline, really … you were just kids,” her mother said. “You don’t actually think you can blame a woman for something she did when she was fifteen? Do you?”
“Why can’t she?” Polly asked.
“Kids do stupid things,” Penelope said. “That’s the way of the world.”
“I’m a kid,” Polly said. “Are you saying that everything I do today won’t mean anything when I get old? Because if that’s true, I should just do whatever I want, since no one’s going to hold it against me.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Penelope said. “I just think that twenty-five years is too long to hold a grudge. Emily is an entirely different person today.”
“That’s bullshit,” Caroline fired b
ack. Polly stared at her mother, her mouth hanging open. There was disbelief in her eyes. Maybe a little pride, too.
“I’m sorry,” Caroline said, feeling like the teenager at the table again.
“No, go on,” her mother said. “I’d like to hear this.”
“Yeah, go on,” Polly said.
But Caroline didn’t want to explain. She wanted to keep moving forward before inertia overtook her and brought this pilgrimage to a halt. The more she explained, the less certain she felt. For once in her life, she wanted to act from her gut instead of her head. “This is just something I have to do,” she said, rising from her chair. “That’s all. So can you tell me where she lives so we can get this done?”
“We?” her mother asked. “Who exactly is going over to the Emily’s house?”
“Me and Polly,” Caroline said.
“You’re bringing Polly?”
“I just drove a thousand miles without a change of underwear,” Polly said. “I’m going.”
“I promised she could come.”
This wasn’t entirely true. They hadn’t discussed the actual logistics, but Caroline wasn’t about to admit that she needed her daughter. That somehow Polly radiated the strength she lacked.
“You promised her?” her mother said. “That’s your reason?”
“It’s important to keep your promises, Nana,” Polly said.
“Polly, you’re my only grandchild and I love you very much, but shut up.”
Caroline stood her ground. “Mom, I just need you to let me do this without giving me a hard time. Maybe it’s a mistake, but it’s one you need to let me make.”
* * *
Caroline was still searching for that perfect comeback when she and Polly were in the car, on the final leg of their journey. Just a few more miles between her and insanity.
She was surprised at how calm she felt. Even unprepared, Caroline knew that she would have the upper hand. Emily had no idea that history was about to chase her down. As difficult as it would be to confront her former friend, it would be an even greater shock to Emily. At least that’s what Caroline told herself.
The Perfect Comeback of Caroline Jacobs: A Novel Page 9