Three Sisters

by Norma Fox Mazer

  Since she couldn’t have a social life and she couldn’t have a boyfriend, she decided she’d have a job. Forget love. Concentrate on money. She assumed she would land a job right away, the way she landed a fish the first time her father ever took her fishing. She’d been seven, never so much as held a pole in her hand, threw in the line and was hit immediately. Instantly! A two-pound big-mouth bass. Her father was ecstatic. She couldn’t understand why he was so excited, until it never happened to her again.

  That beginner’s luck must have imprinted her. She thought all she had to do was stroll into a store or two, announce her intention to work (throwing out the line) and flip flop, the big fish would land in her boat. Well, not quite. Every place she went, they already had their summer help (“But leave your application, if you want to; it can’t hurt”), or they had no plans to hire anybody (“But fill out an application; things might pick up”), or they wanted someone older. Or someone more experienced. Or someone who could work night hours.

  The closest she came was in a doughnut shop, a tiny place, barely big enough for the counter and the tall, skinny boy behind it. A neat row of pimples was tattooed across his forehead. He wore whites and a name pin. KEVIN MASON. “Help you?” he said, doughnut tongs at the ready.

  “I’d like to speak to the manager, please.”

  “You got him.” Kevin pointed to himself.

  “Oh. I’m looking for summer work.”

  He leaned on the counter. “I bet you think it would be fun working here surrounded by doughnuts? Let me tell you, after a couple of days you’d be happy never to look another doughnut in the eye.” He waved at the heaps of doughnuts in the bins behind him. “I loved those things before I came to work here. Especially chocolate doughnuts. I could eat two or three chocolate doughnuts a day. Just give me a chance and I’d do it. I’d eat a chocolate doughnut first thing in the morning, I’d eat one before I went to bed, and then I’d get up in the middle of the night and eat another one. You know what I mean?”

  “You were a chocolate doughnut freak.”

  “Exactly right. I came to work here and was I happy to get this job! One, I needed the money; two, I could eat all the chocolate doughnuts I wanted every day. You want the truth? I’ll give you a statistic. I’ve worked here a year. In the last ten months, I haven’t eaten a single chocolate doughnut.”

  The door opened and three men came in and sat down at the counter. Kevin Mason glanced over at them. “Be right with you, gentlemen.” After he served them, he came back to Karen. He leaned toward her confidentially. “Did you see that? They all ordered chocolate doughnuts. I’ll tell you the truth. I don’t even like to look at the little suckers anymore. So what’s your name?”

  “Karen Freed.”

  “Okay.” He scribbled it on a piece of paper.

  “Don’t you want me to fill out an application?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve got your name. Here, put down your phone number.” He pushed the paper toward her. “We’ll call you if we get an opening.”

  “Should I check back?”

  He smiled; his pimples brightened like a row of neon lights. “You want the truth? I wouldn’t mind. But we don’t need anybody. Not unless I drop dead or something.”

  By Friday, she couldn’t stand the thought of making the rounds of yet another mall. She played soccer after school, kicking the ball as if it were Davey’s head. “Way to go, Karen!” her teammates yelled.

  On the way home, she stopped in at a sporting goods store in the mall to do some shopping for Tobi who, being Tobi, wasn’t content to say, “Buy me three pairs of white socks.” No, Tobi’s white socks had to have a yellow stripe, be ankle-length, and at least eighty-percent cotton.

  It took Karen about fifteen minutes to pick out Tobi’s socks and another five to find a pair of shorts for herself. She got in line with her packages and there, two people to the front of her, was Scott. He was wearing a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up. She reached around, touched his shoulder. “Scott?”

  “Hey, Karen! What are you doing here?”

  She held up her packages. “Cotton socks. What about you?”

  He held up a single leather glove. “Racquetball.”

  “You’re wearing a tie today.”

  He looked down as if surprised. “Yeah, I am.”

  The people between them looked back and forth as if they were at a tennis match. Scott left his place in line, came back to stand with her. She hopped from one foot to the other, cracked her knuckles loudly, and rubbed her nose, which had begun itching furiously. “Good grief,” she whispered under her breath.

  She began talking too fast, machine-gun style. “Buying anything for Tobi is big business. Tobi—you do something for her and she makes you feel she’s doing you a favor. The same talent as my grandmother. Know what I mean? The two of them—they’re such characters.…”

  “Yeah.” He smiled, his hands in the pockets of his cords.

  Yeah? What did that mean? She stared at him suspiciously, felt disloyal to her sister and her grandmother. It was his turn at the register, then hers. She paid and was humbly astonished that he was waiting for her.

  They left the mall together and gradually she calmed down. “You’re not working out at the house site today?” she asked. A normal question! Dull but normal.

  “One day a week I work in the office, try to catch up with things.”

  “Oh. The tie! What sort of things?”

  “You don’t really want to hear.”

  “No, I do, I’m interested.”

  “Well, the nasty part of ‘things’ is calling people who are trying to stiff us on their bills and talking tough. I try my best to sound like a dues-paying member of the Mafia. Pay up or else—”

  “—kneecap job.”

  He laughed. “The nice part of ‘things’ is getting down to some of the design work.”

  She thought about asking him for a job. “I’ve been looking for work.” Maybe he’d think of it himself.

  “Any luck?”

  “Lots of it. All bad. It’s sort of discouraging.”

  They stood by his truck. “I could drive you around to a few places before I go back to the office.”

  “Really? You’d do that?”

  He shrugged. “Why not?” He looked at his watch. “I don’t have to be back right away.”

  She got into the truck. He lit a cigarette. “Can I have one?” He passed her his and lit another. Filthy taste. She didn’t know how people got the habit. She loved tapping the ash, though, and then holding the cigarette to her lips. “I heard a woman talking on public radio about the art of cigarette smoking,” she said.

  “People have funny ideas. You shouldn’t get the habit, Karen. In fact, I feel guilty about letting you do this.” He reached out, took the cigarette from her, and mashed it on the floor.

  “Well, hell,” she said, but her heart wasn’t in it. Could we do that again? You light up. I ask for a cigarette. You take it from your lips and give it to me. Then you take it away. After that, you light another cigarette. I ask for a puff. You take it from your lips.…

  He pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant. “Try this place, Karen. I heard Grimaldi’s was one of the best restaurants in town to work in.”

  She went in. It was the usual routine. “I’m here to apply for a job.”

  “Nothing now.” The manager was tall and fat. “Leave an application.”

  She turned thumbs down as she got back in the truck. “Bummer,” Scott said. The next place was the same thing. And the next. And the one after.

  “We should count up the ways people say no, Karen.”

  “Sorry,” she said promptly. “Nothing now. Come back in a month.”

  “Don’t bother coming back at all.”

  “Leave an application. Don’t leave an application. We’re not hiring inexperienced help. We only want people with experience. You’re too young. I thought you were older.”

  “Maybe you’ll get into th
e Guinness Book of Records, Karen.”

  “Karen Freed, turned down seven hundred and fifty-nine times for jobs in the space of one hour, and no two turndowns exactly alike.”

  “It sounds like a winner.”

  They stopped to have doughnuts and coffee. Sitting at the counter, Scott said something about Jason’s “problem.”

  “You mean his ego?” Karen said.

  “That, too. But I was thinking of the drinking.”

  “What drinking?”

  “Don’t you know? Am I talking out of line? Liz said something about it, so I thought you all knew.”

  It was stupid of her, but the first thing Karen thought was not how bad for Tobi to be mixed up with a drinker, but that her sisters had their little secrets from her. Again. Or was it always? The two of them, the older two, whispering together. Of course she was too young to know something so terrible! Couldn’t possibly handle it. Might go into shock.

  Scott dunked his doughnut. “From what Liz said, it’s a letting-down thing, a weekend thing. I knew a guy like that in college. Straight arrow all week, then kaflooey, totally blitzed every weekend.”

  In the truck again, he said, “One more place, then I really have to get back.” He pulled up in front of a little store. “You want to try this place?”

  She leaned forward to look at the lettering on the window. HAMMAR AND SAWYER CONSTRUCTION CO.

  “Your office! You need someone?” she blurted.

  “What? Oh! I’m sorry, Karen, I didn’t mean—it was just a joke.”

  “No, that’s okay.” She was embarrassed, talked fast. “Can I see it? The office? I really want to see your office.”

  “Hey, it’s nothing special.”

  The room was cluttered—two desks, a drawing board, a huge metal filing cabinet, a scattering of chairs. Scott showed her some plans he was working on. “It could be a big job if the client likes what I come up with.… Is this boring for you?”

  “No, I’m not bored, no, not at all.”

  “You won’t hurt my feelings.”

  “Never with you,” she blurted. Good grief, good grief.…

  “Sweet.” He kissed her on the cheek.

  At home, she didn’t say anything about meeting Scott. Oh, by the way, Liz, I was buying socks for Tobi and guess who I met? … Yes … and then he drove me around to look for work. And we stopped in his office. What was so hard about saying that? Why didn’t she say it? He showed me plans for a house he’s going to build. I’m sure you’ve seen them.…

  Did he kiss you?

  Only on the cheek, Liz! Just a quick little kiss. Sort of a peck. Really. Like an uncle or a brother.…

  Maybe not tell Liz at all. Try it out on Tobi first. Who would roll her eyes. He kissed you on the cheek? Oh, biiiiiig deal! Or would she? Tobi knew what it meant to want something—someone—no one else wanted you to have. She was still seeing Jason, probably more than ever, but she couldn’t even bring up his name without starting a ruckus in the family. For a while it had been mostly their mother, but even her father had gotten on her case now.

  “Tobi, darling.…” The other day, going past Tobi’s bedrooom, Karen had heard him talking in that slightly spaced out, patient way of his. Telling Tobi what she already knew. That Jason was older, more experienced, had been married. “Your relationship is not appropriate.” To everything, Tobi had barely replied. “I know.… That’s right.… Uh-huh.” At the time, Karen had felt a little sorry for her father because he was so sincere about wanting to straighten out Tobi, but now she didn’t blame Tobi one bit for stonewalling. Appropriate? Tobi was in love.

  And Karen? She wasn’t ready to go that far yet. But, still, was it that much different with her and Scott? The family would laugh if they knew he’d kissed her. They wouldn’t take it seriously, not one of them, not even Tobi. Laugh, she thought. Go ahead, all of you. But I’m not laughing. A brotherly kiss? For him, maybe. But me, I wish he’d kissed me on the lips, that’s what I really wish.

  Sixteen

  Saturday, Karen was in the cellar loading the washing machine when Liz called her to the phone. “Hello?”

  “Karen, this is Patty of Patty’s Pretties on Jordan Avenue. You put in an application for work. Can you come down for an interview today? Say, in about an hour?”

  “All right.” She hung up and panicked. Jordan Avenue was all the way across town. And Patty’s Pretties? She hardly remembered it. Maybe one of the places Scott had taken her. “Liz! Will you drive me somewhere?” How lucky Liz wasn’t working today! She ran up to her room, pulled on a skirt, pinned up her hair to look older, then earrings, lip gloss, a touch of blush.

  “What kind of a place is it?” Liz said, in the car.

  Karen craned her neck to inspect herself in the mirror. “I don’t know. It might be a little jewelry place.”

  “Jordan Ave. is over near where Scott lives.”

  “Mmmm.” She and Scott are celebrating her new job, sitting across from each other in a booth, their feet touching under the table. He leans toward her, touches her hand. I can’t talk to anybody else the way I talk to you, Karen.…

  You can tell me anything, Scott.…

  I know. Karen, darling. Neither one of us wants to hurt Liz, but what can we do? …

  “Drive a little faster, Liz.”

  “You don’t have to be there at an exact moment, Karen.”

  “My first real job offer, I don’t want to flub it.”

  “Try to be calm. Breathe deep, that helps.”

  “Do I look all right?”

  “You look fine. Relax.”

  The warm weather had everyone out in the streets. Packs of dogs roamed around, kids were playing softball. A couple of boys were laid out like fish fillets on top of a car, reflectors held to their faces.

  Liz pulled up in front of the store. “Well, good luck.”

  It wasn’t a jewelry store, after all, although it had some jewelry. It was more of a variety store, selling scarves, greeting cards, all sorts of little knickknacks and gifts. She walked through a cloud of hanging chimes to where a woman in a long white dress was dusting the glass counters.

  Karen smiled nervously. “I’m Karen Freed. You asked me to come down to see about the job?”

  “Right, Karen. I’m Monica, but when I’m here, you call me Patty.” She looked Karen over. “Can you go to work immediately, Karen? I need someone to start Monday.”

  “Monday? Well … no. I’m in school.”

  “I thought—how old are you, Karen?”

  She cleared her throat. “I’ll be sixteen on my next birthday, Moni—Patty.…”

  Patty or Monica flicked the dustcloth over a display of glass animals. “You’re big, that makes you look older. So—you’re still in school.”

  “Yes, I’m looking for a summer job. Do you need someone for the summer?”

  “I’m sorry, I really want someone full-time.”

  In the car, Liz patted her knee. “It took me ages to find my first job, too.” She turned a corner. “There’s Scott’s street, let’s go see if he’s home.”

  “Hawthorne?” Karen said, sitting up.

  “The next one over, Oak. You’ve been over to his place with me.”

  “No.” Karen looked out the window.

  Oak Street was mostly two-family houses with porches up and down. Scott was out on the street washing the pickup truck, bare-chested, wearing faded gray shorts, a pair of rubber clogs.

  They got out of the car and crossed the street. Liz tiptoed up behind Scott and grabbed him around the waist. “Ooof!” He turned around. “Well, both of you are here—great. Look at you, Karen. All dressed up.”

  “Doesn’t she look nice?” Liz said.

  They went up to his apartment. He lived on the second floor. The stairs were narrow and Karen walked behind him and Liz. They walked into the living room. A big room. A long, green couch, a stereo on the floor, a couple of easy chairs. In the kitchen Scott brought out beer and soda. Liz seemed familia
r with everything, went into the little pantry off the kitchen for crackers, put cheese on a plate, took out knives from a drawer.

  Scott took a long swallow of the beer. He’d put on a shirt. “I thought you were poeming all day today,” he said to Liz.

  “That was the plan but—you know … and Karen needed a ride.…”

  “No flow, huh?”

  “Oh, it was okay for about half an hour. Then I got stuck on a word, one single stinky little word. A skunk of a word.”

  Scott smiled at Karen. “Ordinary people like us don’t have those kinds of problems. So you got called for a job, Karen?”

  “Yes, but it was a mistake—”

  “I ought to write a poem about skunky words,” Liz said.

  “—she thought I wanted full-time work,” Karen finished.

  “A-ha, we add that one to our list,” Scott said.

  “What list?” Liz looked from Karen to Scott. “What’s so funny?”

  “Karen and I are putting together a new list for The Guinness Book.” Scott told Liz about driving Karen around to look for work.

  Liz tapped her mouth. “I didn’t hear about that.”

  “No. I forgot to tell you.” Karen picked up the soda, finished it in one gulp.

  “You know what I was thinking, Liz?” Scott draped his arm over Liz’s chair. “I’d really like to get a dog.”

  Liz was still watching Karen, still tapping her lip. Was she thinking about her poem? A poem about skunks and words? Or a poem about skunks and sisters?

  Seventeen

  Liz’s freckled fingers tapped the wheel in a little dance. “Do you think we’ve waited long enough?” Her hair was loose; she was wearing a pale green dress. She looked like a sea goddess, all green and gold and dappled.

  Karen cast a sidelong glance at Liz. She hadn’t forgotten that sister-skunk look Liz had shot at her last week. As soon as Tobi showed up, Karen decided, she’d give up the front seat. For once she wouldn’t mind sitting in back and letting Liz and Tobi have each other all to themselves.