“Thank you.”
My mom’s hair fell just passed her shoulders. There was a faint trace of makeup on her face that she had put on at the start of her day, about fourteen hours ago. My mother didn’t need much makeup. She was naturally pretty. She was simple because she didn’t try to do too much. She stayed close to the beauty she was born with.
Her expression was tight and tense.
“What is it?” I asked. “Did the school call?”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s summer. Why would the school be calling?”
“No reason,” I responded quickly, but my mother didn’t move her eyes from me.
“Alyssa, should I be expecting a call from your school?”
“No,” I said. “I was just asking if they called.”
One day, a week before last, a kid who was in my math class asked if I wanted to sneak into the school and plaster the boy’s bathroom with toilet paper. I was in. I’d been on my way home from Abbey’s and didn’t have anything else to do. Plus, I’d never seen the inside of a boy’s bathroom before and I was curious.
It was easier than I thought to sneak into the school, even though it was a bit ridiculous sneaking into a building I couldn’t wait to get out of a month ago. The janitor kept one door unlocked, and my classmate knew which one. We just had to be sure not to be seen by the cleaning crew.
Even though I was confident no one had seen us, I knew it was premature to relax completely. I hadn’t even told Abbey about it and probably wouldn’t. I was sure she’d have been against it. And if by chance I ended up getting caught, I didn’t want to listen to her tell me how stupid I was for doing that.
Still, I made a mental note of which door was kept unlocked, just in case I was able to talk Abbey into sneaking into the building with me.
My mom smoothed a hand lightly over my bed spread. She looked at me, and something behind me caught her eyes.
“I really wish you’d put different posters up on your walls. I can’t stand seeing all these guys with the long hair. Is this what kids are listening to today?”
“Only the cool kids.” I grinned and peered at the posters of my favorite long-haired rock groups hanging all over my walls.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about.” My mother’s expression turned serious.
“Okay.” I felt my heartbeat quicken as I suddenly imagined my mother telling me she was seriously ill with some terrible disease.
“I met someone,” she said.
My body relaxed and my heart rate slowed to normal. I wasn’t in trouble at school nor was my mother dying. This talk was about the midnight phone calls.
“I knew it,” I said.
She blinked. “You did?”
I shrugged. “I heard you talking on the phone. I knew you had to be talking to a boy.”
My mom smiled. “His name is Franklin, and he’s a wonderful man.”
“Franklin? What the hell kind of a name is Franklin?”
“What’d I tell you about that mouth?”
“I’m sorry, but Franklin?”
“Would it be better if his name were Bobby?”
I didn’t know what would make this better because I wasn’t sure I how I felt about my mom dating again. “How’d you meet him?”
“We met at the hospital and . . . I’d like for you to meet him.”
“Already?”
My mother usually didn’t bring home the men she dated until she knew them for a while. I was mystified at how long the late night talks had been going on without my knowing it.
“I know it seems soon because I haven’t known him very long, but this one’s different. I don’t know . . . it’s just a feeling.”
“You met at the hospital? Is he a rich doctor?”
My mother smiled. “No, he’s not a rich doctor. He manages a couple movie theaters around here. His mother was one of my patients in the ICU. She was there for a couple weeks in critical condition. She’s okay now, but it was close. Franklin was with her every day and most of the night. You should have seen the way he was with her, so tender and loving. When you get older you’ll appreciate a man who loves his mother.”
I thought about a boy named Johnny who had been in my third grade class. He loved his mom so much he’d start crying in the middle of class because he suddenly missed her and the teacher would have to send him to the principal’s office. I had heard from some kids at recess that the principal would let Johnny call his mom and talk to her until he felt better.
Johnny was a momma’s boy and everyone made fun of momma’s boys. The other kids gave Johnny a terrible time on the playground.
It was hard to imagine women someday falling hard for Johnny for the same reason other boys used to beat him up—because he loved his mother a lot.
The more I tried to understand adults, the more I didn’t want to be one.
“Have you gone out on a date yet?” I asked.
“Not a real one. After his mother was discharged from the hospital he came by with flowers to thank me for taking care of her. We went to the hospital cafeteria on my break and talked. I let him know I work a lot and that I had a daughter who I spent every second of what little free time I had with.” She pressed her lips together and gave me a tight, reassuring smile. “Then he asked me about you. Things like, how old you are, your hobbies, all kinds of questions, and he seemed genuinely interested, too. He’s the most attentive man I’ve ever known. That’s another thing you’re going to appreciate when you’re older—a man who pays attention to everything you say—and if you tell him you like blueberry bagels with strawberry cream cheese, he’ll remember, and two months later, after you’ve forgotten that you even told him about that, he’ll surprise you with a dozen blueberry bagels and the largest container of strawberry cream cheese you’ve ever seen. Those are the men you let inside your heart and you keep them there forever.”
I considered this. “Last year, this boy named Randy found out I thought tulips were pretty. So he taped a bunch of tulips all over the outside of my locker. ”
“Oh my, that is so sweet,” my mom gushed.
“Sweet? The entire school saw. I was so embarrassed. I punched him so hard in the stomach he dropped to his knees.”
“Alyssa Marie!”
“What? He totally deserved it. That wasn’t cool. I still suspect Abbey was the one who told him even though she swears she didn’t.
“Then you have to trust your friend.”
“Mrs. Baxter made us write down our favorite flower for an assignment one day. I guess Randy could have seen what I wrote. Of course Abbey could have told him and then lied about it cuz she was scared I was gonna punch her in the stomach, too.”
“Alyssa Marie!” she said again. “Don’t even let me think that you would do that to your friend, or to anyone for that matter.”
“What do you mean to anyone for that matter? I already told you I did it to that boy—popped him right in the gut.”
“Your reaction to boys giving you attention will change some day. Trust me.”
“But I like punching boys.”
“I don’t want you punching anyone, even boys.” She tugged gently at my sleeve. “Anyway, that’s how I knew Franklin was different. He pays attention to me. He listens, and he has yet to try to talk me into going out with him after my shift because he knows I’m coming home straight to you,” she said, and tapped the tip of my nose with her finger, making me feel like I was five again. “Instead, he asked me if he could come by the hospital and see me on my breaks. So that’s where we’ve been getting to know each other . . . coffee on my breaks and late night phone calls at home.”
My mother watched me as though she expected me to say something, but I didn’t know what to say. She didn’t need my permission. I wasn’t against my mother dating. I knew it was bound to happen again, but whenever my mom dated it forced me to think about my father—a man I’d never met and probably never would.
“So . . . will you meet hi
m?” my mother asked.
“When?”
“Soon.”
“Where?”
She smiled at me. “I haven’t worked out all the details yet. I first wanted to be sure you were up for meeting him.”
“I guess so. What choice do I really have?”
“Don’t do that. I want you involved in this. You’re a part of every piece of my life.”
I took in my mother’s words. “Okay. I guess I’ll meet him.”
Chapter Six
“WHAT KIND OF a name is Franklin?” Abbey asked.
“That’s what I said.”
We were sitting in the grass at the Hideout.
“When are you gonna meet him?” she asked.
“Don’t know yet.”
“I bet he’s a big nerd with huge glasses and wears geeky pants high above his waist like Mr. Miller.”
“Mr. Miller has monkey ears,” I said.
“Yeah he does,” Abbey agreed.
“I’d die if my mom brought home someone like that.”
“It’d be funny though.”
“No, it wouldn’t. I bet he’s toothpick skinny with a huge bald spot and incredibly odd looking. I mean, he’d have to be weird with a name like Franklin.” I took a cigarette from the pack Derek had given me. I lit it and inhaled deeply and then passed it to Abbey. “Don’t soak it.”
Abbey smoked the cig carefully with the edges of her lips so she didn’t wet the entire bud. I could tell Abbey was getting used to the taste of a cigarette, too.
Later, while I was walking along the tracks, I saw Derek coming.
“Hey!” I yelled.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothin.’ Just being bored. A train hasn’t passed in hours.” I jumped off the tracks and sat next to Derek.
Abbey walked over and joined us. “Hey, Derek.”
“I was wondering if you were gonna come today,” I said.
“Why? Do you guys need more cigarettes?” he asked.
Abbey shook her head. “No. We smoked one earlier.
He looked at me. “How’s the leg?”
“She’s fine,” Abbey said. “You don’t have to feel guilty anymore, Derek. She trips me all the time on purpose.”
“Be quiet, Abbey, or I’ll carry you into the woods you’re so scared of and tie you to a tree.”
Abbey glanced toward the woods.
“You wanna go in?” I teased.
“Be quiet. And don’t tell me anymore of your stupid stories,” she said.
“What stories?” Derek asked.
“Lyssa told me people have died in those woods,” Abbey said.
“What are you talking about? What people?” He looked at me. “What stories have you been telling her?”
“Nothing that isn’t true,” I argued.
He cocked his head and gave me a challenging look.
“Nothing that couldn’t be true,” I clarified.
“You lied to me?” Abbey asked.
“I didn’t lie. Those things I told you could happen.”
“But you told me those things did happen.”
I glanced back and forth between Derek and Abbey. Abbey looked pissed, and Derek held a contented smile. It was as though he were saying, “Let me see you talk your way out of this one.”
“What about him?” I yelled. “He told us we were gonna get chopped up into tiny pieces.”
“But I never said it happened here. Only that I’d read about it happening somewhere.”
“Yeah, Lyssa. Derek never lied.”
“Screw both you guys. I don’t care what you say. Bad things could happen anywhere.”
“That’s it.” Abbey sat up on her knees. “I’m not coming here anymore. We’re not safe in the woods or out of them.”
“I’ll get a knife,” I blurted.
“A knife?” Abbey asked.
“Yeah, a pocket knife. If some sicko follows us back there, I’ll protect us with my knife.”
“Oh, dear Lord, you with a knife.” Derek jumped to his feet. “I gotta take a leak.” He disappeared behind some bushes.
“What about Derek?” Abbey asked.
“Derek can take care of himself,” I said.
“No, I mean did you ever think Derek could have done bad things to us?”
I was embarrassed to tell her the truth, that no, I’d never considered Derek could have hurt us. Suddenly, I felt like a stupid naïve kid.
“I knew he wouldn’t,” I quickly said.
“How’d you know?”
I didn’t know.
“He didn’t look like those kinds,” I replied.
“What do those kinds look like?” Abbey asked.
I had no idea.
I knew Abbey wasn’t being combative. She just needed me to reassure her that nothing bad was ever going to happen to her. “It’s in the eyes mostly,” I made up. “I’ll know when somebody’s not okay, and I’ll be ready with my knife and protect us.”
She was easy to convince because she wanted it to be true. I forced a confident tone in my voice that wasn’t genuine, but she didn’t seem to notice. Maybe it wasn’t entirely safe for us to be at the Hideout alone, but I liked it there, and I wasn’t ready to give it up.
And Abbey wanted the Hideout as much as I did.
Derek came back, but didn’t sit down. “I gotta get goin’. You still got cigs left from the pack I gave you?”
“No.” I had some, but only a couple.
He pulled out his pack and gave me three. He really must have felt bad for making me bleed. I knew I could ease his guilt by telling him my knee felt better, but I didn’t. I liked this nice side of Derek.
“Here.” He tossed me the cigarettes.
I caught them. “Thanks.”
He started to walk away.
“Hey, you know how much a pocket knife costs?”
He turned back to us. “Pends on how good a knife.”
“Shit.” I slapped the grass. “I want a good one, but I’m sure I can’t afford it.”
He tucked his long brown hair behind his ears. Most girls I knew would have killed for hair like his. “You’re serious about this knife thing, aren’t you?”
I shrugged. “I guess so.”
He shook his head. “I’ll see ya.” He lightly ruffled one of Abbey’s long curls as he walked past her.
We watched him disappear across the field.
Abbey leaned close to me and grabbed my arm. “Hey.”
“What?”
“When Derek jumped up to go pee, his shirt pulled up a bit, and I saw a dark bruise across his stomach.”
“Some kid he was fighting probably kicked him when he was down. That’s really a low blow.”
“What could he be fighting about all the time? Wouldn’t he get in trouble with the police?”
“Maybe nobody calls the police, or the fight ends before the cops get there.”
“I thought when kids fight they mostly just push and shove one another, not leave bruises all over each other’s body,” Abbey said.
“Ab, these are high school kids fighting, not the grade school pussy playground scuffles we’re used to.”
“I just hope Derek never gets mad like that at us.”
I nodded confidently at her. “I thought that’s what you were worried about. I’m sure he’s fine, but just in case, I’m definitely getting a knife.”
ABBEY WATCHED AS I pumped air into our tires. She didn’t like to do it herself because she was scared the tire would explode in her face.
“I know what we’ll do,” she said. “We’ll get a lemonade stand.”
“A what?” I stepped onto the foot stand of the air pump and pushed the handle up and down, forcing air into the tires until the pressure was just right.
“To pay for a good pocket knife. We’ll start a lemonade stand.”
“We can’t have a lemonade stand.” I stepped off the pump and straightened my body.
“Why not?” Abbey asked.
“Cuz it’s for little kids. We look too old. Or, at least I look too old. No one’s gonna buy lemonade from us. They’ll think we spit in it or something worse.”
“But we wouldn’t do that.”
I smirked at her.
“You wouldn’t dare.” Abbey eyed me.
“I’d be tempted. Anyways, it doesn’t matter. We’re not having one cuz lemonade stands are for babies.”
“Then how are we gonna get the money?”
“Swipe it from your mom’s wallet,” I told her.
“I can’t do that.”
“Do it when she’s drinking,” I blurted and then quickly regretted it. “I mean, swipe the money when she’s distracted.”
“I can’t take money without her knowing cuz my dad keeps track of her money. He looks over her receipts and everything. He must have found something because they had a bad fight a couple weeks ago. And the other day, I saw Mr. Alberts from next door passing her a brown paper bag over the fence. When she came into the house she yelled to see where I was. I pretended I was in the bathroom, but really, I had been at the window, watching her. And then I heard her sneak in the basement, trying to be quiet.”
“Then her stash is somewhere in the basement.”
“That’s not the point. My mother’s sneaking alcohol into the house.”
It was the first time Abbey admitted her mother was drinking. I put my arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “It only proves my father knows even when he pretends not to, but he doesn’t want to deal with it. He only wants to try to control it so he doesn’t have to be bothered with it.”
“Come on.” I kept my arm around her shoulder a while longer. “Let’s go to my house. We’ll watch Meatballs. It’ll make you feel better.”
ABBEY AND I were sitting on the couch in my living room, waiting for Franklin to come. I was keeping my promise to my mother that I would meet him, but I wanted Abbey with me, and she was okay with that.
“Remember girls.” My mom walked into the room from the kitchen with a towel draped over her arm. “Be on your best behavior. I know I don’t have to worry about you, Abbey. It’s this one.” She motioned her head toward me.
I rolled my eyes. “Abbey’s not perfect, you know.”
“But I’m closer than you are,” she argued.
A Penny on the Tracks Page 7