“Huh-uh.” He liked telling her the truth even if it wasn’t the right truth.
She believed him and rewarded him with a smile that he wished he deserved.
3
JEREMY PUT HIS PILLOW OVER HIS HEAD TO muffle the sounds of the birds outside his window. It helped some, but he could still hear them and knew there was no way he was going to go back to sleep. He’d looked to see if the fog was still hanging around when he got up to go to the bathroom and check on his mom. The sky was clear, and she was sleeping on the sofa. He saw that his dad had been there first and covered her with a blanket, so he went back to bed.
Today was July 4. His birthday. He’d liked it when he was little because there were fireworks at the end of the day and he’d believed everybody when they told him the fireworks were for him. Now he knew better. He knew a lot of things weren’t what people said they were.
Sharing a day with a whole country that was supposed to be special just for him was hard. He could never have his party on the actual day because his friends were always busy doing something with their families.
Then his sister was born on his birthday and it had made him a little mad that he would have to share the day with her, too. He never said anything to anyone and even changed his mind when Angela came home and he saw how cool it could be to have a little sister grab his finger and hold on like she knew what she was doing. Then she started smiling at him whenever she saw him and acting like she was listening when he read “The Three Little Kittens” and he figured sharing his birthday with her wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.
But he never got a chance. Now, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to have a birthday anymore.
He pulled the pillow off his head and tossed it on the floor. Lying spread-eagled on the bed, he stared at the ceiling and discovered a spider doing a zigzag dance toward the light in the middle of the room. Seconds later another spider came shooting out from the light, heading straight for the first. It stopped inches away. For a long time neither of them moved, then the zigzag guy started to zig and the straight-running one charged and the first one dropped like a brick onto Jeremy’s bed.
Wide-eyed, Jeremy bolted up and hit the floor before the spider had time to get its eight legs headed in the same direction. Almost by accident Jeremy caught a glimpse of the glistening thread that ran from the ceiling to the bed. His first impulse–to pick up something and smash the spider–disappeared on a wave of wonder. All of a sudden Spiderman, his favorite cartoon, made a brilliant kind of sense. Peter Parker did what real spiders did, escaping danger the same way. It wasn’t something someone just made up.
Wanting to share his discovery, Jeremy hiked up his pajamas to keep from tripping on the too-long legs and left to find his father. At the same time he glanced into his mother and father’s bedroom he heard their voices in the kitchen–not happy, conspiring voices planning a birthday surprise for their son, but cold, tired ones saying the same old things they said to each other almost every day at home.
Jeremy didn’t stick around to see if the voices would change. There was no reason to believe being in a new place would make any difference.
When he got back to his room, the spider was gone.
“HE WON’T EVEN KNOW I’M NOT THERE,” Ann insisted. “All those rides only take two people at a time anyway. I’d just be standing around all day waiting while you two were going from the Ferris wheel to the roller coaster to the tilt-a-wheel.”
“You don’t have to stand around. You can go on the rides with him.”
“You know I don’t like that stuff. I never have.” Ann opened the egg carton and began cracking eggs into a bowl for French toast, Jeremy’s favorite breakfast. “And Jeremy knows how much I hate crowds. You two can spend the day together and then we’ll all go to Monterey tonight to watch the fireworks.”
“How can you do this to him, Ann?”
She turned on him. “How can you do this to me?” She sucked in her bottom lip and bit down hard. She might not be able to give Jeremy what he really wanted or needed on this day, but she was determined she wasn’t going to let him see her cry on his birthday.
“I’m hanging on by my fingertips, Craig. And you keep pulling on my ankles.”
“It’s his birthday, Ann. Can’t you get it together just this one day?”
Her throat hurt from trying to hold back tears. “It isn’t just Jeremy’s birthday–it’s Angela’s, too. I don’t understand how you can put that aside so easily.”
“And I don’t understand why you pick days to focus on her loss. Why was it more important to think about what she missed by never experiencing a Christmas or Valentine’s Day or Easter than it is to know she missed knowing what a terrific big brother she had every single day of the year? Who the hell cares about a box of candy shaped like a heart when there are snowflakes and rainbows and butterflies to see and feel?”
“You can’t know what it’s like to carry a baby all that time and–”
“But I do know what it’s like to cut the cord that attached her to you. And I know what it felt like to be the first one to hold her and welcome her into the world.”
“You welcomed her … I told her good-bye.” Ann couldn’t look at him anymore. She turned away and picked up another egg, balancing it on the edge of the bowl as the tears she could no longer control began to fall.
“Please,” Craig said. “This will be a birthday Jeremy remembers the rest of his life.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
“If you know,” he said, anger thick in his voice. “Why don’t you care?”
She caught her breath in surprise and in pain at his cutting remark. She turned to face him. “How could you say that to me? What gives you the right?”
He stared at her a long time before answering. “How long is this going to go on, Ann? Months? Years? Give me something to shoot for. If nothing else, dangle a carrot in front of me to keep me going. I need something to hang on to.” Looking away and then purposely looking back again as if making the point that what he wanted to say was more important than mere words, he told her, “I can’t go on without it.”
“What are you saying?”
“You know exactly what I’m saying.”
“You want a divorce?” How could she not have known? Craig didn’t make quick decisions. He thought things through from every angle, looked at every option, planned for every possibility. He must have been thinking about this for a long time. And yet she hadn’t seen it, hadn’t even guessed.
“You need help, Ann. We need help. Our lives are falling apart. Jeremy is–”
“You think us getting a divorce is what’s best for Jeremy? You would leave him?”
“No,” he said softly.
She gasped. “There’s no way I would let you take him from me.”
“You left him months ago,” he countered.
“That’s not true.” But it was, and she didn’t know how to find her way back.
“When was the last time you talked to him?”
“We talk all the time.”
“Really talked to him. His first day of fifth grade you were so wrapped up in Angela you didn’t notice when he left the house and then on his last day of school you were still so wrapped up in losing her you forgot to pick him up.”
“I didn’t forget; I overslept,” she protested weakly.
“Because you won’t sleep at night.”
“Because I can’t.”
Craig didn’t immediately answer. In the strained silence they heard the soft click of the front door closing. He ran his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “Jeremy heard us arguing.” He picked up the towel from the counter and threw it across the room. “Some birthday. Maybe we could arrange for it to rain and really screw it up for him.”
AS SOON AS JEREMY ROUNDED THE HOUSE HE stopped to pull out the toilet paper he’d wadded up and shoved in his ears. He used to listen to the things his mother and father said to each other when they
were fighting, but he didn’t anymore. Most of the time it was like some stupid contest to see who missed his sister the most. His mother always won because she would cry and his dad would get up and leave. Jeremy would wait to come out of his room until his dad was back and he and his mom pretended everything was all right again.
No one ever asked him how he felt about Angela being gone. It didn’t seem to matter that he missed her, too, or that he secretly read her “The Three Little Kittens” every night before he went to bed.
He talked to Timmy about it sometimes when they were alone in his fort in his backyard. Not a lot. Just once in a while when they’d run out of other things to talk about. Timmy didn’t think he’d miss his sister as much as Jeremy missed Angela, but then Timmy’s sister was older and always thumping him on the head when their mom wasn’t around.
Jeremy came to the place he and the cat had met the past three mornings and sat down on the brick pathway to wait. He’d gathered stuff from the refrigerator the night before, not taking too much of any one thing so his mom and dad wouldn’t notice. He didn’t want them to know about the cat because they might make him stop feeding it, and he didn’t want to stop.
He took the paper towel off the plastic bowl he’d found in the bottom cupboard, and softly called, “Hey, kitty, kitty, kitty.” It was the way the lady next door at home called her cats when they were outside.
The cat didn’t come. Jeremy called again. When he still didn’t come, Jeremy checked the daisy bush and then the one next to it with the pink flowers. He could see where the cat had been lying, the stems were pushed aside making a kind of cave, but it wasn’t there.
He stood and called again, his voice a notch above a whisper but low enough not to be heard inside. He was at the end of the walkway when he saw the cat running up the path toward him.
Instead of immediately going to the bowl, the cat stopped to rub himself against Jeremy’s legs, moving back and forth and purring like he’d turned on a motor inside his chest. Jeremy smiled.
“It’s my birthday,” he said, bending down to scratch the cat’s ears.
The cat let out a soft meow.
The old man in the straw hat appeared at the garden gate again dressed for another morning on the beach. “I’m pretty sure that means happy birthday in cat language.” He smiled. “How old are you today?”
“Ten.”
“Ten …” He got a faraway look on his face. “You’re going to have such a good time being ten. It’s a wonderful age to be.”
“Nine wasn’t very good.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Usually nine is a very good year, too. But not always. Mine wasn’t either.”
The cat left Jeremy and walked toward the bowl. He stopped and looked back, as if waiting for Jeremy to follow. He did and could see it was clearly what the cat had wanted. He stood nearby while the cat ate. “What happened when you were nine?”
“My father lost his job and didn’t have the money to feed us, so my brother and I were sent to live with cousins. They didn’t like us much and weren’t happy to have us there.”
Jeremy wouldn’t like living with his cousin either but he wouldn’t mind living with Timmy for a year or so, even if his sister thumped him on the head once in a while, too. “Did your dad get a job again?”
He nodded. “When I was eleven. That was a very good year for the whole family.”
Maybe eleven would be a good year for him, too. Ten wasn’t starting out too well. “I’m going to the boardwalk for my birthday. Then we’re going to come back here for cake and ice cream. Would you like to come for cake?” he asked on impulse. “You don’t have to bring a present.”
“Oh, but I already bought you a present.”
“You did? How did you know it was my birthday?”
“As it turns out, it was just one of those fortuitous things.” He put his umbrella on the ground and reached inside his beach bag.
Jeremy had no idea what fortuitous meant, but went along. “My grandma sent something in the mail last week, but my dad said I couldn’t open it until tonight.”
“Well, you don’t have to wait to open this.” He held out a small, brightly wrapped package.
Jeremy stepped over the cat to reach him. “Thanks.”
“As you’ll soon discover, the present is actually for both of you.” At Jeremy’s confused look, he added, “You and your cat.”
Now he really was curious. “I can open it now?”
“Please do.”
He turned it over and popped the tape. Inside was a funny-looking comb, a bag of cat treats, and a collar with a tag that read, Francis–friend of Jeremy. “His name is Francis?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I thought he looked like a Francis. And I liked the way it went with Jeremy. Give him a treat when you want to comb him, and he’ll get the idea that being combed is a good thing. I have a feeling there’s a beautiful cat just waiting to be found under all that matted fur and that you’re just the young man to find it.”
Jeremy smiled and turned to look at the cat, who had finished his breakfast and was licking his paws and wiping his cheeks in front of the empty bowl. “I never knew a Francis before.”
“And I never knew a Jeremy.” He picked up his umbrella and beach bag. “Time to go.”
“Thank you for the present. I like it a lot.”
“You’re welcome.”
He went back to the cat–to Francis–and when he looked up again, the man was gone. Sitting on the ground with his legs out in front of him, he opened the treats and offered one to Francis. He stretched his neck forward, working his nose. He stood to move in for a closer smell, decided it was something worth pursuing, and gently plucked the treat from Jeremy’s palm.
Tomorrow they would try the comb. He liked thinking about having something to do. The man’s present was a good one.
4
ANN WORKED SUNSCREEN ACROSS HER FOREhead and over her nose as she waited for Jeremy to join her on the deck. She was incredibly grateful for the phone call from Craig’s office that had sent him searching for a fax machine that morning. The tension from the blowup between them on Jeremy’s birthday had continued for four stressful days. They’d been civil for Jeremy’s sake, but then it was easy to be civil when they stayed in separate parts of the house.
Amazingly, Jeremy didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, he’d chosen not to get involved. How many times could you try to bring your parents together and fail and not give up trying? Surely Jeremy had reached his limit months ago.
Craig was convinced she didn’t see what was happening to Jeremy. Of course she saw how he’d changed, but it wasn’t the dramatic change Craig insisted had taken place. They’d all changed. How could they not? What would it say about them if they’d simply resumed their lives after Angela died? She couldn’t go back to the life they’d once had. She couldn’t even remember what that life had been like.
For all the protesting that she would be missed if she stayed home while Craig and Jeremy went to the boardwalk for his birthday, they’d gotten along fine without her. While they were gone she’d baked the cake she’d promised, yellow with chocolate frosting, and even made Jeremy’s favorite dinner, spaghetti with meat sauce and a green salad with Ranch dressing.
She’d cried when he blew out his candles and said it was because she was sad to see him growing up so fast. Craig gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her; Jeremy didn’t look at her at all.
The sound of the screen door moving in its track alerted her that she was no longer alone.
“I’m ready,” Jeremy announced.
She worked up an imitation of a smile before she turned to greet him. He was wearing last year’s swimming suit, the red, white and blue one she’d bought at Macy’s preseason sale and worried he would grow out of before the end of summer. Now it hung so loose the first wave would have it at his ankles if he didn’t hold on to it. When had he gotten so thin? How could she not have noticed?
“You
forgot your towel.”
He looked at the bag at her side. “I thought you–” Turning to go back in, he added, “Never mind.”
He’d assumed she would bring his towel. Why not? Wasn’t looking out for her family her job, something she did automatically, something they had every right to expect?
Guilt might be a five-letter word, but in her mind it had more power than any four-letter word ever conceived. She was consumed by it, every breath carried its odor, every spark of hope was dulled by its tarnish.
Jeremy appeared at the back door again, towel in one hand, the bag full of beach toys his grandparents had given him for his birthday in the other. “Did you want to bring the camera? Dad left it on the table.”
“No.” The last picture she’d taken had been of Angela with her nose red from her first cold–the minor upper respiratory infection none of them had taken seriously, the one that had killed her three days later. Ann hadn’t been able to pick up the camera since.
Jeremy closed the door and followed Ann down the path to the stairs. She shifted her canvas chair to the left when he moved to that side. He was a hand holder and it was the only way she knew to discourage him without hurting his feelings.
Something terrible had happened to her when Angela died, something she still didn’t understand. She recoiled at being touched. It was everything she could do to hold still instead of pushing friends and family away when they came at her with consoling hugs. At night she clung to her side of the bed until Craig was asleep and she could slip into the other room without being questioned.
Ann stopped halfway to the water. “Where do you want to go?”
Jeremy surveyed the uncrowded beach. He pointed toward an elderly couple sitting in canvas chairs under an umbrella. “Over there.”
Ann didn’t question his choice. She followed him until it seemed he would throw out his towel right next to them. She motioned him to a spot several yards away. “How about here?”
He joined her without comment, spreading his towel and toeing one foot and then the other out of his tennis shoes. He’d grabbed his bucket and shovel and was headed for the wet sand when Ann called him back and handed him sunscreen.
Another Summer Page 14