“You can take the girl from the punk rock, but you can’t take the punk rock out of the girl.”
Dad said, “True that. She had terrible taste in music.”
“Coming from someone who listened to Guns and Roses too loud, again last night.”
He smiled and dipped his egg roll in the sweet and sour sauce. “When I’m brokenhearted, I like familiar, comforting. I’m thinking I should write a book, Grieving with Guns and Roses.”
I chuckled and ate a steamed dumpling. “Do you think mom would’ve liked Gavin?”
“Well, let’s see, first day he gave you the Oasis poster. And he does have the British accent. Plus he’s taking her daughter to London. I think she would have liked him. Probably. Perhaps grudgingly, because he’s no ‘Our Teddy.’” Dad picked up rice with chopsticks and flourished with them, dropping rice all over the counter. “The question though is do you like Gavin. Does he make you happy? That’s all your mom would have cared about.”
“He doesn’t make me unhappy. When I’m with him I’m not crying all the time. All the rest of the time I’m a wreck. Like mom was.” A tear slid down my face, proving my point.
“Sid, you’re a wreck right now because of your mom, not like your mom.” He put his chopsticks down and peered at me. “You know that right—you understand the difference? Your mom did everything she could think of to give you a happy childhood until she couldn’t anymore.”
“But why couldn’t she? Grandma Wilma said she died of a broken heart because I grew up and was going to leave her.”
Dad looked shocked. “When did she say that to you?”
“At Hospice.”
Dad said, “It’s exactly that kind of toxic bullshit which is why Grandma Wilma doesn’t get to see you anymore.”
I gave a half-smile through my tears. “That sounded like something Mom would have said.”
“Well, if she heard it, she might be so mad she’s channeling through me.” He gave me a sad grin. “Your mother’s childhood was awful, brutal and bleak. She was abused, terribly. That’s why you never met your grandfather. Wilma did nothing to protect your mom and mostly blamed her.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. Oh poor Mom.”
He shook his head. “You might imagine someone who grew up like that would be a complete mess, but when I met your mom, she wasn’t at all. She was the most positive person I ever met. She didn’t want to live a life out of fear, or anger, but out of hope for the future. When you were born she read every book she could find on parenting, trying to undo the way she had been raised. Everything from breastfeeding to those baby slings, she would ask herself, ‘Is this because I’m afraid of the world or because it will make Sid’s life better?’ She did that until she couldn’t do it anymore, because she hadn’t dealt with the pain, she was ignoring it. She had built her happiness on a broken foundation.”
“Couldn’t she have gotten help? Stopped drinking? Gone to therapy?”
“Yes, yes and yes. She could have. But instead she’s gone. We have to take a deep breath and keep living. Her gift to you was a mostly happy childhood, it’s up to you to build on top of that.”
“I don’t feel very happy.” I pointed at my red swollen eyes.
“And you look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
“And you can’t say Gavin makes you happy, but he doesn’t make you unhappy.”
“Something like that, the sex is good.”
Dad’s eyes went wide. He clutched his heart smearing fried rice on his shirt. “Sid, that was your mom’s style, I don’t know if I can go there.”
“I was just testing if she is channeling through you—it’s kind of hard to tell.”
“I think she would want me to say that the absence of unhappiness is not necessarily happiness. Sometimes you can be happy with someone even though you feel really, really sad. This shit is complicated.”
“That’s why I’m just going with the flow.”
“That’s one strategy. Maybe you don’t have to work as hard as your mom did to make things good. Maybe you can sit back and let stuff happen, but strive to be happy, for her.”
Tears streamed down my face. He added, “So you’re headed to London.”
“Yep. The ticket’s bought.”
“What do you need for your trip?”
Ninety-Five
Lori calls Sid
“Sid, I was thinking about Christmas, and I wanted to see if you and your father were going east, or if you would be here in LA. We’d like to have you over for Christmas dinner. I wanted to ask before you made other plans.”
“Oh um, I’m not sure . . . Will Teddy, um—does Teddy know you invited us?”
“Teddy suggested it. I wanted to, but I was worried it might be out of bounds, but he seems to think it would be okay. It’s okay right? You guys are good?”
Were we okay? I had no idea. “Will his girlfriend be there, because I don’t know . . .”
“No, apparently he broke it off with her on the drive down to San Diego right after Thanksgiving dinner. Also, I’m not sure what you said to him, but he’s trying to turn school around. He’s negotiated with his professors and is cramming for exams.”
“I’m so glad. I didn’t have anything to do with it, but that’s really great.”
“Oh, I just assumed. Something forced him to focus over the break, I assumed it was you. Because with Teddy it’s always been about you.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry I said that Sid, I—I’m having a hard time navigating this. That’s something I would have said to your mom and without her, I’m a little lost.”
“Me too.”
“Can you come to Christmas? We’ll cry, but I promise we’ll laugh too.”
“Um, here’s the thing—I’m leaving for London tomorrow morning. I mean, I’ll be home for Christmas, but I don’t know if it’s fair to make plans . . .”
“London! That’s Alicia’s favorite place in the world! How are you—oh, you’re going to meet the hot singer?”
“Yes. I . . .”
“I didn’t realize it was so serious.”
“It’s not, but I don’t know, I’m confused.”
“We could all use your mom right about now, huh? I wish I could help. I dated a lot of men in my lifetime before I met Scott. I was boy crazy and, woo hoo, did I learn a lot, but I don’t know if my advice will have much merit because I love Teddy and think he’s the greatest guy in the world, but if you’d hear me out, I can try.”
“Okay.”
“The thing is, there are so many kinds of men, but there are only two types of people—the ones that bring out your best, and the ones that bring out your worst. When you’re in the midst of a good love affair, it can be hard to bring your head up from the stew of chemistry and look around at which you truly have. Is he good in the sack?”
I chuckled, “Spoken like a true friend of my mom, yes, he’s good.”
“When you’ve got orgasms clouding your brain, it’s particularly hard to tell which one you’re dealing with. Pull your head up, look around, force yourself to. Love is love, but also, if someone isn’t bringing out your best, don’t settle.”
“I was just telling Dad I was going with the flow.”
“That might be settling under another name, but what do I know? I had a year long relationship with the drummer of a rock band you’ve heard on the radio, and he was an amazing lover, but you know what I became when I was around him? Little more than a groupie. He didn’t make me that way, it’s what I did, but I figured it out, moved on, tried out, oh, four other guys, and then I met Scott.”
I laughed. “So a lot of trying out.”
“Maybe some day I’ll tell you about your mother’s list too, she was a big fan of holding auditions.”
I laughed again. “I’d like to hear that, definitely.”
“The point is, nobody is a mistake, it’s all about learning. Pay attention and see what the lesson is. Also it’s never too late to mo
ve on.”
“Well, I do have a plane ticket to London.”
“Don’t get me wrong, you have to go to London. It’s London. But take this trip as a chance to decide which kind of person he is. And still, come to Christmas. I’ll make sure Teddy understands about your trip.”
“Teddy is the last person in the world I want to hurt.”
“Yeah, I know. Love is complicated. So you’ll come, right, to Christmas?”
“Yes, I’ll talk to Dad, but we can come.”
Ninety-Six
Teddy texted
Just Skyped mom.
Can we talk, I mean Skype?
Liam says hi.
Yes.
Sid’s face appeared on my laptop. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Look, I talked to mom, she said you’ll come to Christmas. I’m glad.”
“Yeah, I think it will be good. Important for my dad. I don’t want him to be sad.” Sid looked down.
“Sure. Me neither.” Then I said, “I heard about your trip to London tomorrow, that’s great.”
“I’m exci—”
I interrupted, because I had planned Things-To-Say that I had to get through, “I just wanted you to know I’m happy for you, and what I’m trying to say is, I know I asked if we could still be friends, and you didn’t want to, but I need to ask you again.”
“If we can be friends?”
“Yes. I’m asking, um,” I glanced up and she was looking directly at me. “I mean—yeah.”
“Okay. That would be good.”
I said, “Good, thanks.” We sat awkwardly for a minute, then I asked, “Your dad is driving you to the airport?”
“Yes, my flight is at 6:00.”
“You’re up late.”
“My theory is I shouldn’t sleep until tomorrow on the plane. I don’t know if it’s a good theory, but I’ve never done this before.”
“Are you flying into Heathrow? Because it’s easy to get into the city from there.”
“How do you know that?”
“I did a lot of research a while ago.”
“Oh.” Sid looked away. More awkwardness. Skype had a way of taking the worst parts of a face to face and the worst parts of a voice call and combining them. She asked, “So you’re at school? Are you in your apartment?”
I looked around. “I am. I’m supposed to be studying. I’ve taken three exams this week, next I have to write two papers.” I rubbed my hands up and down my face. “I haven’t surfed since we went out, that might be a record for me.”
“A week and a half, that’s crazy.”
“I’m acting heroically because it was a literal disaster here, but I’m fixing it. I won’t have straight As, but I’ll get to come back in January. Then I’ll surf every day.”
Sid laughed, “I don’t know if that’s the lesson to be learned here.”
I stuck my fingers in my ears. “Lalalalala, no reality, please. I’ve barely slept. All I do is cram information into my brain. I have to dream of constant surfing as my reward.”
Sid yawned, the big kind, the wide-open-jaw-and-a-moan kind.
“You better get some sleep, or you might miss your flight.”
“Thanks Teddy, I’m glad you called.”
“Will you call me, if you need anything, to talk or . . .”
“Yes I will. But I’ll see you at Christmas.”
“Okay—” One of us accidentally hit the hang up button. Sid was gone.
I stared at my laptop for a long time. I had done it, called Sid. Asked her to be friends. And she had said, yes.
Ninety-Seven
Sid
My alarm went off and I had barely slept. 4:00 a.m. I put on a simple pair of black leggings, my boots, and a comfy dark grey shirt. I came downstairs and met Dad, already in the kitchen, with the coffee on. “You excited?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t seem real.” My backpack was stuffed, leaned up against the counter. I wrapped my hair up into a bun, took a sip of coffee, and went through my carryon bag for the last time—pencils, pens, my ‘ideas’ journal, two Luna bars, a knit hat, my iPad, my phone, passport, bank card, health insurance card. And a list of contact numbers.
Dad put a hard-boiled egg and a muffin in front of me. “Eat something. Your next meal is in London, terrible food I hear.”
Ninety-Eight
Mary
The walls were cold stone, and though covered in tapestries, there was a chill that blew through them direct for my bones. I had asked for a fire, and it was roaring, but only warmed a foot in front of the flames. The only tiny window’s pane was streaked with shimmering sleeting rain.
As long as I had been here in Scotland, I couldn’t get used to how cold it was. I stood and gestured and my maid shoved my chair closer to the fire. I dropped down to the seat and tried to relax my clenched jaw. Also my clothes were constricting, itchy, and heavy. I sighed. And why was it so dark?
I said to Riccio, “There’s never enough light.”
He nodded. No help at all.
The table in front of me was set with pewter, piles of food—but then I blinked and a vision flashed of a table from France—Francis sat across from me, light streamed through the windows, the whole place glowed gold and warm.
I blinked again, and the vision was gone. The surrounding faces were stark in the candlelight. I felt dizzy.
I blinked to return the vision. My plate was covered in pears, dripping with honey. I’m laughing, the carefree laugh of light and love and happiness.
I sighed, returning to the present. “Riccio, it’s time for the poetry.”
Riccio, who was always agreeable, said, “Of course, your poem first.”
He was the closest thing I had to a friend and yet he deferred to me in everything. Sometimes I liked that. Not every time.
I pulled at my bodice, leaned back in my chair, irritated, but if anything interesting would happen, I supposed it would have to be me that began. “I wrote this when Francis died:
In my sad, quiet song,
A melancholy air,
I shall look deep and long,
At loss beyond compare,
And with bitter tears,
I’ll pass my best years—”
Riccio interrupted, “Queen, this is your saddest poem, perhaps this cold evening needs a livelier one. We could play a game. You love games.”
I waved his idea away with a hand. “I can’t argue with my mood, dear Riccio. When it is your turn, your poem can lift our spirits. Mine will toss them low.” I continued:
“Have the harsh fates ere now,
Let such a grief be felt,
Has a more cruel blow—
What is that sound Riccio?”
“Just the wind.”
“It sounds like heartbreak, but where was I? Oh, the final lines:
Been by Dame Fortune Dealt,
Than, O my heart and my eyes—”
The door to my chamber was shoved open and a group of men rushed into the room. I jumped up. A man grabbed my shoulders and held me forcibly. I struggled. I yelled, “I am your Queen! Unhand me!” And yet I was captive. Before me men fought. I tried to make out their hidden faces. A chair tipped over. Riccio clutched at my skirts but was wrestled to the ground and dragged to the door.
I tried to break away from the men, to get to Riccio, to help him as he fought against his captors, but the men who were holding me were too strong. And then a knife was raised and Riccio was stabbed, again and again and again. His screams were loud and long and brutal. I would hear them forever. If I lived past this night.
Ninety-Nine
Sid
I landed in England. Outside of customs a man in a suit, with a hat, held a sign that said: Sid Vicious.
Oh. A man for me.
I approached him wishing I had dressed better. He took my backpack, seemed surprised that I didn’t check any other luggage, led me to the car, and tossed it unceremoniously into the trunk. He asked if I was cold.
; Um, yeah. It was freaking freezing outside. In the twenty feet from the airport to the car I was shivering. It was the kind of cold that pierces through the weaving of your coat and freezes your internal water.
I chattered, “Yes, um, excuse me, just a minute,” and retrieved my backpack from the trunk, unzipped it, yanked out my hoodie, and pulled it on. I layered another coat over it. While he waited, a bemused look on his face.
The car wasn’t a limo, just a sedan, but the driver held the door open for me. The whole thing was a nice touch. Definitely a close-second to my boyfriend actually meeting me at the airport.
London was dark. Lights twinkling, very Christmasy, sparkling decorations everywhere. And the driver’s accent was amazing. Everybody sounded so freaking smart. He asked if I was from California, and I said, yes, and he nodded, happily, as if California Girls were a happy thing.
Gavin texted:
Landed?
Yes.
I’m headed home
see you there.
I sat in the back of the car, holding my phone in my lap, watching a strange city slide by.
Gavin waited for me on the sidewalk. He was dressed in a black thick coat, over pencil-thin pants and boots. He had a knit cap on his head, his cheeks were red contrasting with his pale skin. I had missed that jawbone. He ripped open the car door, pulled me out, and swept me into a hug, “Hi Sid.” He kissed me on my neck and my check and, with his gloved hands steadying my cheeks, sweetly on my lips. He said with a big smile, “I missed you!” and hugged me again until I shivered in his arms. It was crazy cold out here. No amount of hot boyfriend would cut through this chill. I would need to add a sweater to my wardrobe, and Gavin would find that hilarious.
Sid and Teddy Page 14