Stuart walked in and asked for an orange. We both ate one and spent the rest of the afternoon stuffing orange pits in Wolf’s head. Actually, we turned it into a game, putting Wolf in a corner and trying to pitch the pits into the hole. I won, 84 to 39. It took almost all afternoon to get that score.
I heard the car door slam and the front door open. The ritual had begun. Only this time it was a little different. This time he called me downstairs before he was even handed his drink.
I walked in and said, “Hi. How was your day?”
“Apparently not as exciting as yours, young lady. I warned you about getting involved. Maybe it’s about time that you got punished for your actions. I had to hear all about this from a business associate. I understand that both of my girls are involved in this? Is that true?”
My mother said, “Let’s all sit down and discuss this quietly.”
So we all sat down. I looked from one to the other. Then I said, “I’m doing the right thing. I’m not always wrong.”
“Martin, Marcy’s right. You should’ve heard Mr. Stone.”
He just sat there, chewing on his smelly cigar. My mother continued, “She’s got to make her own decisions. And I’ve made my own decision too. I’m going to support and help her. She’s helped me to realize some things.”
My father turned on me. “Are you satisfied now? Your mother and I never disagree.”
“Don’t blame her,” Mom said. “I’ve made up my own mind.”
“Can I please be excused?”
“Oh, no you don’t, young lady. You cause all the trouble and then you try to slip away.”
“Martin!”
“Oh, all right. Marcy, I want you to go to bed without your dinner. You may leave.”
I went up to my room, closed the door, and looked in the mirror and searched for emerging acne. There was none. So I sat down at my desk. Then I realized that I didn’t have anything to do. I’d been suspended. Me, of all people. So I spent the next hour thinking of Joel.
Joel was a special person, I decided. He was smart. He was brave. He was cute. And he liked me. Amazing.
I stayed in my room all evening and watched television. TV comes in handy when people can’t talk to each other. Then I went to bed and dreamed about going to Nancy’s party and falling down a flight of stairs.
CHAPTER 12
The next morning my mother came into my room and woke me up.
“Marcy. I let you sleep late today, but it’s time to get up. We’re going shopping for your dress. And I want to talk to you.”
I hate waking up out of a sound sleep. She expects me to talk and make sense immediately. So I rolled over on my stomach and put the pillow over my head. She started to tickle me. I hate that too.
It was easier to get out of bed than to be tickled. My mother thinks she’s being cute when she does that. I think she’s being a pain.
“Mom, what do you want?”
“I’m getting nervous about what’s going on. I don’t like to fight with your father. I’m not used to it.”
I flopped down on the bed and put the pillow back on my head. I could feel her sit down on the edge of the bed. I tightened up, expecting to be tickled again. When that didn’t happen, I peeked out from under the pillow. I could see her crying.
Sitting up, I reached over, and touched her hair. “Aw, Mom, please don’t cry. It’ll be O.K. I’m sorry.”
“Marcy, it’s not your fault. It’s not anybody’s fault. It just happened. I never really thought much about women’s liberation. Now I’m beginning to.”
“Look, Mom, let’s go shopping. Don’t worry.”
So we went shopping, taking Stuart and Wolf with us.
I hate to go shopping. I love clothes, but they always look awful on me. All those skinny tops, and the clothes that expect you to have a waist. And when you find something you like, they never have it in your size. It’s horrible. One of the worst things is that I have to go into the store, go past the junior boutique, and step into the “Chubbies” section. They should give out paper bags to wear over your head while you shop there.
So there we were at the “Chubbies” section. Stuart was swinging on one of the coat racks. My mother was looking at ugly dresses. I was trying to avoid the saleslady.
She waddled up to my mother. She was what the store people would call a “stylish stout.” She was what I would call a “senior blimp.”
“Can I help you, dearie?” she asked.
“We are looking for a party dress for my daughter.”
“Oh, isn’t she sweet. What do you want, honey?” she asked me.
“I want a pair of size five bluejeans.”
“Marcy,” my mother began.
“Mom, she asked what I wanted, not what I was going to get.”
“You’ll have to excuse my daughter. She gets upset when she shops.”
The lady smiled and said, “I can understand. I used to be that way myself.”
I felt like throwing up when she said that.
My mother must have understood, because she said, “Perhaps it would be best if we browsed by ourselves. We’ll be sure to call you if we need help. Thank you.” My mother’s O.K. sometimes, even if she is skinny.
We took lots of stuff into the dressing room. Finally, I found a purple pants suit that I liked. My mother liked it, even if it wasn’t a dress. I guess she gave in because she was getting tired of pulling Stuart out from under racks, and of searching for the perfect outfit that was going to turn me into an all-American princess.
Then we went to the jewelry department. That’s fun. It doesn’t matter what size you are when you buy a necklace. I bought a pair of hoop earrings, a necklace, and a ring. I felt really good. And it was nice to see my mother happy. Even Stuart was happy. My mother bought him a pair of sneakers, and the salesman gave him a balloon.
In the afternoon I went over to Nancy’s house. She’s going out with a tenth-grader at Hoover High School. Nancy’s been going out since seventh grade, and she knows lots more about guys than I do.
“Nancy, do you think Joel likes me?”
“He asked you out, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. But I don’t know why.”
“Oh, Marcy, come on. You’re not so bad.”
“Yeah. But he’s so nice.”
“So are you. Listen, Marcy, Joel’s a great guy, a little too serious sometimes, but nice. I don’t think he goes out much, though. So if he asked you out, he must like you.”
“Really think so?”
“Yeah. I don’t think he’s the kind to fall madly in love, but I think you and he can be friends.”
“You don’t think he can fall in love?”
“Marcy, you’re weird. First you’re afraid that he doesn’t like you and then you wonder whether he can fall in love.”
I blushed. Can I help it if I get confused easily?
I told Nancy that I was nervous because everyone was going to be dancing and all I knew was tap and ballet, and that wasn’t “in” at parties. So Nancy and I practiced all afternoon.
When I got home, I practiced all the dance steps in front of the mirror. My mother walked in and tried to do them too. Sometimes I wish she’d act her age.
Dinner went pretty well. My father seemed happy because we had bought clothes.
“See,” he said, hugging my mother. “My family can get nice things because I work so hard.”
The phone rang. My father answered it and called out, “Marcy, it’s your Romeo.” I was so embarrassed that I didn’t want to go to the phone. But I had to.
“Hi.”
“Hi, Juliet.”
“Oh, Joel, I’m sorry. My father thinks he’s funny.”
“I’ll live. So will you. What did you do today?”
“Some shopping . . .and then I saw Nancy.”
“I talked to some of the kids today. It’s hard to get everything together now that school’s cancelled. Listen. Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at 8. O.K.?”
“Sure.”
“Good. Well, listen, I’ll see you later.”
“O.K. Bye.”
As I put down the receiver, I looked up and saw my father.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Marcy, we never talk anymore. Let’s talk now.”
“Daddy. I have to practice my dancing.”
“This will only take a few minutes.”
So we sat down in the living room and he started. I could tell that he was going to try to stay calm. And he did try. He hardly raised his voice. It sounded as if he’d rehearsed it.
He said, “I realize you’re growing up and have to start making your own decisions. But I don’t approve of you not saying the Pledge. And I don’t think you should support Miss Finney.”
“Ms. Finney,” I said.
“All right, Ms. Finney, if you insist.”
I stopped chewing my nails long enough to explain to him that while I did support Ms. Finney, I still said the Pledge.
He said that he hadn’t realized that. Still, he disagreed with my support of Ms. Finney.
“You’ve got to learn to stick with the majority, to play the game. And Marcy, now that you are going out, I want you to remember to be a good girl. You must protect your good name.”
I laughed. He sat there, looking uncomfortable and chewing on his cigar.
“Dad, I promise not to elope before I’m sixteen, bring home another mouth to feed, join a motorcycle gang, or mug little old ladies.”
He raised his voice a little. “Stop acting like a smart aleck. Can’t you understand? I just want my family to be happy.”
I said, “O.K., but don’t worry about me.”
Then he said, “I’m glad we’ve talked.” Then he shook my hand. He shook my hand. A hug would have been nicer, but that was better than nothing, and he hadn’t yelled too loud.
My mother walked in. “How would you both like some ice cream?”
“No thanks, Mom. I’m going to go upstairs.”
I spent the rest of the evening washing my face with special anti-acne soap, brushing my hair, and looking in the mirror to see if giving up the bowl of ice cream had made me skinny.
CHAPTER 13
The next day, I had to babysit. My parents were going shopping and I had to take care of Stuart and his bear. Sometimes I feel that my parents should claim Wolf on their income tax.
I took him over to the playground, swung him for a while, and then ran him around on the merry-go-round until we both got dizzy. Wolf, of course, never gets dizzy. According to Stuart, that’s because he’s so healthy from the orange pits.
We sat down on a bench.
“Stuart, are you happy?”
“What?”
“Are you happy?”
He nodded his head up and down.
“Why?”
“I love you.”
I hugged him. “Are you always happy?”
He just looked at me.
“Stuart, do you think you’re happy because you’re just a little kid and don’t know any better?”
No answer yet.
I could see that my question wasn’t going to get answered. What can you expect from a four-year-old, the wisdom of Moses?
“Stuart, do you love Wolf?”
“Yes.”
“Mommy?”
“Yes.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you cry?”
“When I fall down.”
“What else?”
“When you cry.”
“Anything else?”
“When Daddy yells.”
“Do you love Daddy?”
“Yes.”
Sometimes I wish I were four years old.
“Marcy.”
“Yes.”
“I’m hungry.”
So I took him home and made him a peanut butter and ham sandwich. That’s what he wanted, and I figured that since it was so easy to make him happy, I should do it. He’ll learn soon enough what sad is. He’d just finished it when we heard the car drive up.
“It’s Mommy and Daddy,” he yelled.
Rushing outside, he grabbed hold of my mother’s legs and said, “I miss you.”
Nice. The kid doesn’t cry or anything all day and then he acts like it wasn’t any good.
“What did you get me?”
Great. He sometimes thinks the whole word is like a quiz show.
My mother laughed and said, “Come inside. I’ll show you.”
Everyone came in. Stuart. My mother. And my father.
“Hi, honey. How did it go?”
“Fine, Mom. We went to the playground.”
She picked out two bags. “One for Stuart and one for you.”
We ripped open the bags. Stuart got a pair of mittens, and I got a floppy hat.
“Oh, Mom, I love it.”
“The saleslady said all the girls are wearing them, and it’ll draw attention to your face.”
All of a sudden I felt horrible. Why did she always worry about what everybody else is wearing, and why’d she have to remind me that I have to do stuff to draw attention from the neck up because the rest of me is so glunky?
My father looked at me and said, “Don’t you start getting oversensitive, young lady. Your mother wanted to make you happy. Now be happy.”
I had to laugh.
We all started to laugh. Stuart had taken the hat and put it on Wolf.
Then we put the packages away, and Mom and I started making dinner. Stuart, Wolf, and Dad headed for the TV.
“Marcy, I bought the hat for you because I liked it and thought you would like it. Do I always talk about how everybody else dresses?”
“Yeah, you do. Ms. Finney says that clothes can be an artistic expression of the individual. Mom, I don’t want to look like everybody else, even if I could.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that it’s safer being like everyone else.”
“Mom, are you happy?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you happy?”
“I don’t think about that much. I’m happy when you are happy. You are very important to me.”
“Do you love Daddy?”
“Yes, Marcy, I do. I don’t always agree with him, but he’s very good to me.”
“He’s not very good to me.”
“Please. Don’t say that. Daddy loves you very much. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”
“Am I adopted?”
“No, of course not. What a silly question. Marcy, he’s your father and I’m your mother. We both love you.”
I finished setting the table, and we all sat down to eat. All of a sudden, it dawned on me that it really was the night of Nancy’s party. It was my very first date. I was kind of calm and frightened to death at the same time.
Once dinner was over, I rushed upstairs to get ready. I spent fifteen minutes brushing my teeth and another ten searching for pimples. I thought that I found one and then realized that it was a blot from my felt-tip pen. An orange pimple would have been a little strange, even for me. So I washed my face.
Getting dressed was a real trip. I got nervous about the color of the outfit. Purple was a pretty color, but what if I looked like a large grape in it? I was sure that everyone at the party was going to say “Joel, who is that grape you’re dragging around?” Or “Marcy, Halloween is over.” When I put on the earrings, necklace, and ring, I felt better. I mean, grapes don’t wear jewelry. People would know it was me.
My mother came into the room. She started gushing about how nice I looked, how I was growing up, and how my clothes did express my personality.
The doorbell rang. My mother wanted me to wait a while to make an entrance. I rushed down the steps, trying to get to the front door before my father got there.
I didn’t make it. My father and Joel were standing there looking at each other. I walked over and said, “Hi. I’ll get my coat and we can leave.”
But it wasn’t that easy. My mother
came down the steps, making the entrance that I didn’t make, and said, “Well, hello, Joel. Why don’t we all go sit in the living room and talk for a while?”
I thought I would die right there. But I didn’t, so we all went into the living room. It was horrible. My father kept chomping on his smelly cigar and asking Joel what his plans for the future were. My mother kept gushing about how nice I looked. Stuart wandered in and asked Joel if he was going to marry me. Joel just sat there, smiling and trying to say nice things.
I couldn’t say anything. I just sat there, trying not to have a nervous breakdown and wishing that a tornado would strike or that some machine would come out of the sky to rescue us. I was positive that I was developing an ulcer.
Finally I stood up and said, “We’d better go. Nancy’s expecting me to help her out.”
So everybody stood up and walked over to the door. I felt as if we were leaving for a trip to Mars. All we needed were reporters around, asking questions like “Ms. Lewis, how does it feel to be going out on your first date?” and “Mr. Anderson, has it been a life-long ambition of yours to go out with a grape?” My father told us to get home early, and my mother kept picking imaginary lint off my coat.
We finally got out the door and started down the street. Then I looked at Joel to tell him how sorry I was about the scene at the house. Instead, we both laughed.
CHAPTER 14
By the time we got to Nancy’s house, my stomach had calmed down. Ringing the bell, we heard someone running up to the door. It was Nancy, looking absolutely beautiful in a long skirt and a short top. On me it would have looked like a lot of rubber bands above a tent placed on a volleyball.
Standing behind Nancy was this fantastic-looking guy, the kind you always see in ads for aftershave lotion. I had never been that near to anyone who looked like him. Nancy introduced us. It was her boyfriend, Phil. I’d seen him around but had never talked to him. He smiled and said, “Nancy’s been telling me what’s happening. Wish we had as much excitement at that stupid high school. Maybe it’ll get more interesting next year, when you get there.”
Joel said, “Why don’t all of you at the high school get involved? It’s something that could happen there too.”
The Cat Ate My Gymsuit Page 6