by Gail Giles
I couldn’t look at him. I had the all-over warm fuzzies and was smiling like a… big ol’… girlie girl.
“So, the wash,” Marc said. Pulling me back to reality.
“You put stuff that’s alike in one washing machine. Towels together. Dark colors can’t go with light colors. The dryers are really hot so take your clothes out slightly damp. Don’t let ’em dry to the bone. It ruins the T-shirts and shrinks everything. Especially your delicate stuff — make sure you don’t put ’em in the dryer.”
I wrote as fast as I could. “These aren’t steps,” I complained.
“Yeah, they are. I’m just not numbering them for you. Learn to adjust.”
I let out a loud sigh and pushed my hair behind my ear. “You sound just like them.”
His hand shot out before I took another breath. No other part of his body moved. His face was shuttered. The notebook ripped from my hand and sailed across the yard. He got up and walked to the house.
“I’m ready to get back to work, Mr. Ford. Take all the time you need.”
I gaped after him. Stunned at the quickness and the… violence.
“I don’t think anybody should ever make him mad,” Chrissy said.
“No,” I said. “I guess not.”
HEROES
When Dad picked me up at the Laundromat he was hot and cranky. “I’m too old and out of shape for this,” he said. “I’m taking tomorrow off. You and Marc can work on cutting the yard back. I’m going to see about getting a phone and your mother can be damned. We’re getting basic cable and DSL. I need a real job and I can’t do it with dial-up.”
I clenched my fists. He didn’t care that I might be tired and needed a day off, but I didn’t want to start a fight. Hey, he was going to get DSL — the tiniest part of my real life back. Better yet, he was giving me time to talk to Marc alone. I couldn’t keep my head straight since he had walked away from me.
“The laundry smells great,” Dad said. “You, however, smell like cigarettes.”
“I know. There’s a jillion No Smoking signs and people sit right underneath them puffing away,” I said.
“Reminds me of my parents. They complain they don’t have money for food, but they smoke cigarettes. People don’t have a washer and dryer — they could buy one with what they spend on smokes.”
I couldn’t believe him — all holier-than-thou over cigarettes? What about the money he spent on beer and Jack Daniel’s? Or, how about, we don’t have a house anymore because you stole and gambled?
We got home and I slammed my way inside. I tossed my parents’ clothes on their bed and took the rest of the stuff to my room, where Marc was playing with Chrissy.
“Shhh, the bears have worked hard and are taking a nap. I just sang them a lullaby,” Marc said.
“His singing is so bad they fainted,” Chrissy reported.
Marc hung his head then looked at me through his eyelashes. “I’m sorry.
I’ve been punished for my bad behavior.”
“I detentioned him,” Chrissy said.
“Oh, that’s why you’re in here,” I grumbled.
“Yes, I’m, uh, bearsitting while your dad went to pick you up.”
“He means babysitting me, but he’s trying to be nice now,” Chrissy said.
“Gotcha.” A wisp of smile snagged my mouth.
He tilted his head toward the hall as he stood. We went out together.
“I blew up. Sorry, I didn’t like being compared to your parents. I don’t like to think I treat you like they do.”
“You don’t. It was stupid, I…”
I couldn’t finish. His lips were on mine. Soft, sweet, quick. Leaving me wanting more.
But we were interrupted by the slam of the front door. I scooted into the bedroom with Chrissy, and Marc slid into the bathroom, closed the door, and flushed.
Mom came into the hall as Marc came out of the bathroom. “Sorry, Mrs. Ford. Mind if I get some cold water then go back to work?”
Mom flicked her eyes over him. “If you don’t mind, I need some help with the rug in the front room.”
She leaned into the doorway. “Ames, you too. Let’s roll up this rug. I’ve found a place to sell it. Marc, I’d like to talk to you about this home-schooling thing. I went to the high school today and didn’t like what I saw. Home-schooling might be just the thing for Ames.”
I got up and followed them into the front room. Marc moved the ridiculous coffee table. The three of us got on our knees to roll up and sell off the last bit of luxury.
“Keep it in a tight roll. Roll the rug to you, don’t roll to the rug,” Mom said, always the Commander.
“So what did you see that was so bad, a mugging?”
“Practically. I was there less than two hours and I saw two fights. I walked through the halls during class changes and I simply couldn’t believe the language those children used.”
I glanced at Marc. Mom should have taken a stroll through the halls of my pricey school. Her hair would’ve stood on end. Did she think because we wore Peter Pan collars that we didn’t swear?
“One couple was kissing and crawling all over each other. Let’s just say that if there’s a baby in nine months, I think I witnessed conception.”
Marc laughed. A big, boisterous laugh, like it was surprised out of him.
Mom sat back on her heels. “I am not making a joke. These two were coiled about each other up against the lockers and writhing like snakes on hot pavement. A teacher did break it up. But it might have been too late.” This time she and Marc both laughed. Mom’s was tentative at first, then a little louder and more carefree.
Why did I hate this? Marc and my mother laughing together? I knew he was working her, but…
“So, exactly how am I supposed to make friends if I don’t go to school?” My tone smothered the mood.
“I made friends.” Marc shrugged. “It’s easy enough.”
“That’s one of the things I want to ask Marc about,” Mom said. Her angry face was back in place. “This isn’t a punishment, Ames.”
“Let’s just get the rug done.” I rolled.
“Ames, I said you bring it to you, not push it away.”
It was easier to push.
Just as we finished, Dad came in with a set of phones, a bag of wires and some Cat-5 stuff, a cable box, and, surprise, another six-pack. “Marc, can you help me set this stuff up?” He turned to me. “You’ve still got the wireless thing for your laptop and your printer, right?”
I nodded.
“We’re in business,” Dad said.
Mom’s body looked like it vibrated. “The only thing that’s changed is geography. I guess you just blew all the money I got for the rug.” She banged out of the house and the car roared out of the drive.
“I didn’t ask her to sell the rug,” Dad complained.
I stood there, not quite knowing which way to look.
“Ames, I thought you were supposed to be clearing the weeds from around the house. Why are you standing here? Get to work. Do I have to do everything?”
My head exploded. “No, you’ve done plenty already.”
I saw the bag of wires he held coming toward my face then, and my eyelids mashed together, bracing for the hit. It never came.
I opened my eyes, and Marc held Dad’s wrist.
“You need to calm down, Mr. Ford. You don’t want to be hitting your daughter.”
Dad jerked his arm away from Marc. “You need to mind your own business.” But he walked away, dumping his stuff on the sofa. I heard him open the fridge, thump down the new six-pack, and crack open a can.
Marc whispered to me. “Go play with Chrissy.” His voice was soft. His eyes were not.
I sprouted wings. Someone had taken up for me. Had protected me. While Em had always been on my side, she had never gone toe-to-toe with my parents like Marc just had. “That’s the second time,” I said.
“What?”
“He almost hit me before. In Colorado. He stopped h
imself that time. I don’t think he would have this time.”
Marc put his hand to my cheek and ran his thumb over my lips. “Now go close your door, let him mellow. I’ll hook up the cable and the computers and we can work on the yard when it’s cooler.”
I was a mess. Rage toward my father overwhelmed me but I was lovestunned by Marc. I went to Chrissy’s room. Just like I’d been told.
Later, I joined Marc outside and we hacked at the overgrown shrubs and vines that grew ragged and wild close to the house.
“You whack them and I’ll walk them to the curb,” I said.
He chopped and I carted and we didn’t talk much. Dad stayed in the house on the computer; I could see him watch us from the window from time to time.
We worked the shrubbery all the way around the house, and I was introduced to the mysteries of Saint Augustine grass. There was no grass like this in Boulder. This was warrior grass. It grew in long runners with a death grip on the ground that would take a sumo wrestler to pry loose.
We knelt next to each other, struggling to rip the grass from the ground.
“Marc, there’s something I want to tell you.”
“This sounds serious,” he said.
“Good serious, I think.”
“Good is… well… ” He grinned. “Good.”
I took a deep breath. “I used to think my dad was my hero. As corny as it sounds. I don’t know any other word. It’s been a real wake-up call finding how stupid I’ve been about that. But my hero’s not Dad. It’s… you.”
Marc sat back and pulled me into his lap. He kissed me. I kissed him back. Then kissed him again.
“Ames!” I felt Dad’s shadow first, but his voice startled me anyway. I jumped, but Marc kept me in his lap.
“Ames, get off that boy this minute.”
“Mr. Ford, we’re not doing anything wrong. We’re out here in front of God and everybody. It was just a kiss,” Marc said, still holding me.
“Get up, Ames. Now.” Marc released me and we both stood.
“Dad —”
“Shut up and go in the house.”
I grabbed Marc’s hand and held on. “Get over yourself, Dad. It’s not like I haven’t kissed anyone before.” Well, I had. I’d kissed Marc before.
“You’re fifteen years old,” Dad roared.
“Sixteen soon enough. Dad, this is not a big deal. Why are you so —”
“Go in the house.” He lowered his voice, but his anger strummed.
“Ames, go ahead. Your dad and I need to talk.” Marc squeezed my hand and let it go. His voice was lazy and smooth. But his eyes were hooded. Cobra eyes.
Fifteen minutes after I went into the house, Dad stalked into my room. His fury was tamped down — somewhat — but he seemed to have grown a spine.
“Ames, whatever is going on with Marc is over. You are too young for a relationship like that.” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “Wasn’t Emily enough to show you what damage early sexual experience does to a girl? Is that what you want for yourself? As a role model for Chrissy?”
Translation: Don’t embarrass us. Don’t mess up Chrissy, the good kid.
I stared past him and willed him to drop dead on the spot.
“Marc admitted he’s too old for you. Too experienced. I’m sorry I tried to grab you, but this…” He flipped his palms up and looked around the pathetic room. “This whole situation… it’s turned me into someone I don’t even recognize. Everything fell apart. I don’t even know how it all started.”
He didn’t know how it started? Take a little responsibility.
“Anyway, Marc will still work here until the house is done. But he’s agreed there will be no physical contact between you. None. I want you to agree to it, too.”
“What if I don’t?”
Dad looked as stunned as if I’d slapped him.
“Ames?”
“What? You can’t beat me or tie me up or watch me every minute of the day. Now get out of my room. I don’t talk to drunks.”
Dad looked like someone punched a hole in him and let all the air out. His face drained of color and he looked old and frail. He left the room like he was lost.
I caught a movement from the corner of my eye. I turned to see the open closet door. Chrissy was sitting in the closet, arranging her bears in rows.
She didn’t look at me.
When Marc arrived the next day he went to work scraping the front of the house while I worked on the back. I didn’t talk to him and he didn’t talk to me, but I didn’t believe Dad’s story. Marc was full of double-talk. He’d tell Dad what he wanted to hear and have another plan of his own.
Marc didn’t try to meet me in secret. Didn’t say anything all day other than it was getting hotter. Insomnia-curing conversation. As he was leaving at six, Mom rolled in. She looked tired but smug.
“I got a job. A receptionist at a dentist office. I make appointments, file insurance claims, that kind of thing.” She plopped down on the couch. “My résumé is skimpy, but my interview convinced him that I could do what needed to be done. The thing I do best is organize, right?”
“I thought you were thinking about home-schooling the kids?” Dad said.
She looked at Dad like he was a slug. “I think we need to put some food on the table. You’ll do the home-schooling while you search for your ‘perfect job.’ ” She rose and strode past Dad. “See to dinner, will you? I’m going to take a shower.”
Power shift. Complete parental chaos. Strangers.
“Forget that. She can go hungry,” Dad said, and shambled to the little table that held his computer and booted up.
I guess that meant Chrissy and I could go hungry, too. I dragged myself to the kitchen and made a box of mac and cheese. I took two hot bowls to our bedroom, my raw palms suddenly feeling blistered by the heat, and handed Chrissy a bowl. She was on the bed braiding a stuffed horse’s mane. Where’d that come from?
“I love it when it’s gooey. Mom makes it too dry and Dad makes it too runny.”
I put my bowl on the nightstand and flopped on the bed. There was a lump under my pillow. I lifted my head and pulled out a cell phone. The prepaid, throwaway kind. I turned it on. One programmed number.
Marc.
One voice message.
Marc.
Meet me at midnight at the end of the block. My dad works the late shift tonight. I won’t let your dad keep us apart. I won’t let him hurt you, either.
Chrissy watched me delete the message. I watched her braid the horse’s mane.
“Did Marc give you that cute little horse?”
She nodded. “He said he had secret presents for both of us.”
“Secret presents?”
“Yes, he said not to tell Mom and Dad because it will make them sad because they can’t afford to give us presents right now,” Chrissy said.
This guy was a great liar.
I grinned at that. Then my grin vanished.
This guy was a great liar.
I shook it off.
ET TU, BRUTE
The household was snoring like a bear’s den by ten thirty, so I slipped into the so-called family room to use the phone.
“Ames, do not tell me they have phones in Texas.” Em sounded like the old Em. “Is it, like, a civilized state or do you have cattle in the kitchen?”
I tried to laugh. “What’s up in the real world?”
“I’ve given up guys,” Em said.
I was jolted off my feet by the fact that the earth had just stopped rotating. “Do not mess with my head, Em. My life is insane enough.”
Em sighed. “I’m serious. Dad made me a deal.” This was new. Em had never called a step by anything but his first name.
“Earl bribed you into not having sex?”
“Not exactly. Well, okay, exactly. Here’s the deal: If I don’t have a boyfriend during the summer, then I can work for him during break. Not like in the mail room, but seeing how cases work. I can go with him to the cou
rtroom.” Her voice was rapid fire and excited. “I upped the ante and said, ‘Let’s start now.’ I didn’t do much of anything but hand him stuff and put stuff back in order, but I get a peek at criminal law that nobody my age gets. He just wants me to see if something besides sex could interest me. Show me that I might be good at something else.”
Who was this on the phone? Where was my friend that barked at fences just because they were there?
“What happened to the rebel for any cause? I thought the boy toys were how you got control.”
“Dad thinks I’m worth more than… well, he cares. He says I’m using guys as a Band-Aid. For all the shrinks I’ve been to, Earl makes sense. And he hasn’t left.”
My stomach hurt. I had to sit down.
“Ames, you’re not saying anything.”
“Yeah,” I finally managed. “Earl’s a good guy.”
“Forget it,” Em said. “If a hot body shows on the horizon I’ll probably go back to my old ways. But with nothing else going on, talking cases with Dad is interesting.”
“You’ve called him ‘Dad’ three times.”
“Did I? Well, he’s more of a dad to me than that sperm donor ever was. Anyway, what’s up with you?”
A smile spread over my face along with a flush. “I have a boyfriend. I’m going to meet him at midnight.”
“The old guy?”
“He’s not old. He’s twenty-two.”
“Six years’ difference. Too much.”
What was this crap? Coming from her? “You’ve dated guys that much older.”
“I’ve been around the block. You haven’t even walked next door alone.” She paused. “Ames, you know how everybody on the planet thought I was the bad influence and you had it all together?”
“Right, but it was never like that,” I said.
“You know why?”
“Sure, I like your wild side. You were doing the things I didn’t have the nerve to do.”
“Nope,” Em said. “Think about it. I know how to keep from getting in too deep. You get started and keep going. You can’t self-correct. I had to do that for you. Now I’m not there.”
“I can’t ‘self-correct’? Is this one of your old shrinks talking or Earl? It sure isn’t the Em I used to know.”