Dad lets Eileen into the house. Eileen’s glance takes in Kat, who is now sobbing uncontrollably, and then Dad, who just shrugs. “She doesn’t want you to take Star back,” he says.
“Oh,” she says. “They must be getting along.”
“That they are,” Dad agrees.
“We can extend the trial period if you like,” she says to my dad.
“I think we’re going to have to,” he says, turning his back to Kat. “But I must tell you, Eileen. Kat is probably moving back in with her mother soon. I hope that won’t change anything.”
“Have you asked her mother if she’s willing to take a dog?”
“No,” Dad admits. He pauses, and in that moment I see an odd expression cross his face, as if he’s just remembered something relevant. He thinks about it, but says only, “I doubt it’ll be a problem.”
Eileen looks skeptical. “If she’s going back to her mother, why did you choose now to get her a dog?” I notice a hint of irritation in her voice. “I have the dog’s welfare to consider too, and I wasn’t anticipating another move for her so soon.”
“The timing isn’t perfect, I know,” he says. “It’s just the way it worked out. And besides,” he adds, “maybe the dog will help Kat make the transition better.
Eileen turns to face Kat and Star again. “Hi, Star,” she says.
Star’s tail thumps on the floor but she doesn’t leave Kat’s side.
“Come, Star,” she signs.
With an anxious look at the sobbing Kat, Star pads across the floor to Eileen’s side. “Good girl,” she says. She strokes the dog and talks quietly to her. Eventually she speaks to Dad again. “I can see that Star has adapted well to Kat,” she says. “I’ll leave her, if you like, and we’ll just keep our fingers crossed that the move to Kat’s mom’s goes smoothly. I won’t finalize the adoption until we see how it works out.”
Dad nods. “Thank you. I’m sure everything will work out fine, but that’s probably a good plan.”
Eileen signs to Kat. “Would you like to keep her a little longer?” she asks.
Kat nods and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “How long?”
“We’re not sure yet. But for a while.”
Kat jumps up and scampers across the room to hug Eileen. Then she hugs Star again. Star’s tail thumps and she barks once.
That ugly feeling in the pit of my stomach has returned and I have to leave the room. I’m sure Kat doesn’t even notice.
Six
Star’s arrival has wreaked havoc with our perfectly ordered routine. Now that Kat has to walk and feed her in the morning, she no longer has time to make me breakfast or pack me a lunch. In the commotion this morning, Kat almost forgot to take her medication—despite reminders from me—and she became a blubbering idiot when it was time to say goodbye to the dog and get on the bus.
I am all but forgotten.
To make matters worse, the front page of today’s paper features Mom’s release from prison. Dad was right. In the picture, the gathered mob looks angry, and Mom looks scared to death. Serves her right.
Turning the page I find myself staring into my own eyes. Talk about a vacant expression. Beside me in the picture is my father, his phony-ass arm draped across my shoulder, and Kat is leaning against me on the other side. The story doesn’t say much, except for some drivel about how forgiving and gracious we all are about Mom’s release. No doubt they’d been hoping to run a scandalous story featuring an over-protective, loving father and his fearful, distrusting children, all of whom are appalled that the mother is being given parole. I bet we were a big disappointment. Maybe I should have spoken up. Exposing some of our secrets might have put us on the front page, right there beside Mom. As it is, Ms. Wetzell’s fireworks seem to be fizzling out.
Just as I’m about to leave—lunchless—I notice Star and her sad brown eyes staring at me from the doorway to Kat’s bedroom. I have to be careful. This is one cagey dog. She figures if she’s patient long enough, and good enough, and pretty enough, I’ll eventually give in and love her. I can’t let that happen. I turn and go out the door without a word.
Unfortunately, I have to come home and collect her after school. Kat has permission from Mrs. K to bring her baby-sitting with us, and it’s up to me to come home and fetch her before heading over there.
She greets me warily, tail wagging, but not too enthusiastically. I put on her leash and we begin the six-block walk.
It is an unnerving experience.
Complete strangers feel that having a pretty dog at your side is an open invitation for interaction, to pat it and to tell you all about their dog or their neighbor’s dog or their great aunt’s dog. Kids are the worst. They’re all over Star, mauling her and asking me dumb questions. What kind of dog is she? How old is she? Is she a girl dog or a boy dog?
I’m beginning to think I may never get to Sammy’s. Then, just when I’ve unraveled myself from the last one and Sammy’s driveway is almost in sight, a car pulls up to the curb and Gem jumps out of the passenger seat.
“Darcy! I didn’t know you had a golden retriever,” she squeals. She puts her hand out to let Star sniff her and then gives the dog’s back a good hard thumping. Star seems to enjoy it. Gem must know something about dogs. I glance into the car and meet the eyes of the driver. He looks unimpressed.
“She’s not mine,” I tell her. “She’s my little sister’s, at least for now.”
“For now?”
“We’ve got her on a trial basis, to see if it works out.”
“Hmm.” Now Gem has one of Star’s ears in each hand and is gently massaging them. The skin on the back of her hands is the color of milk chocolate. Her nails are painted pale pink. “She’s a real beauty.”
I have nothing to say to that. I glance again at the driver of the car. He’s glaring back at me. “I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend,” I say.
“I don’t,” Gem says. She glances at the driver too. That’s just my brother.”
“Oh.” Why am I relieved to hear that?
“I gotta go,” I say, finally dragging my eyes away from her hands. For a moment I find myself wishing I were Star, or at least Star’s ears. What has come over me? I’m getting soft. “I’m late for work.”
She leans over and kisses the top of the dog’s head. Yuck. And she’s worried about having nicotine breath?
“See you tomorrow,” she says before hopping back into her brother’s car.
I FIND KAT and Sammy waiting in the front yard for us. With delighted squeals they race over and greet Star. I may as well be invisible. Mrs. K comes out of the house and greets the dog too. Maybe I’ll just leave and let Star baby-sit.
“Hi, Darcy,” Mrs. K says, finally. “I saw your picture in the paper today.”
“Oh, yeah.”
She gives me a look I can’t read. “Everything all right?” she asks.
“Yep.”
“Good,” she says, nodding. “And Kat? She’s dealing with everything okay?”
I’m not quite sure what she’s referring to, but it doesn’t really matter. “Yeah, Star’s taken her mind off everything else.”
“That’s good.”
I have to agree with that.
“I have to run,” she says. “I left a note on the counter for you.” She turns to leave.
“Okay.”
“Oh.” She swings back around to face me. “I also mentioned in the note that Geoff and I have both decided to take next week off, to spend it with Sammy.”
“Oh. Okay.” Geoff is Sammy’s dad.
“I’m sorry about the short notice, Darcy, but,” she frowns, “we’re a little concerned about her.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, we’ve noticed that she just hasn’t been herself. We’re hoping that she just needs a little more of our attention.”
Actually, I’ve noticed that Sammy’s been acting kind of strange too. She’s been more clingy than ever, but then lashes out at the strangest things.
“Okay. No problem.”
“Thanks, Darcy. I appreciate that. And a week off will be like a little holiday for you, won’t it? Maybe you can hang out with your friends, play some sports or something.”
Shows how well she knows me. I smile politely and nod.
“All right then, I’m gone,” she says. Sammy is chasing Star, who seems to understand the game of tag perfectly. Mrs. K hugs Sam, who doesn’t hug back or become anxious because she’s too busy struggling to be set loose. Star is way more interesting than her mother at this moment. Or me.
How quickly I’ve been replaced.
MS. WETZELL CALLS me into her office.
“How’s it going, Darcy?” she asks.
“Fine.”
“Your mom is out of prison now.”
“That’s what I hear.”
“And you survived the media frenzy.”
“So far so good.”
“I wonder how your mom is faring. She’ll be recognized wherever she goes. It won’t be easy.”
“That’s not my problem.”
She sighs. “I got a call from your sister’s school this morning. It’s a message for you. Apparently your dad called them to say he’s decided to pick Kat up early and take her over to see your mom.”
“He has? Why didn’t he tell me?” I try to swallow my alarm, conceal it from her, but I can feel my cheeks burning.
“Does he always have to check in with you, Darcy?” she asks softly.
“I would have prepared Kat,” I said. “This is going to be hard for her.”
“I’m sure your dad will do that.”
“I’m sure he won’t,” I blurt out, giving away more than I intend to.
Ms. Wetzell studies me a moment too long. “I know you’re not a guy who likes to talk about stuff, Darcy, but have you thought of keeping a journal, so you can record your feelings about the things in your life?”
“Haven’t you heard?” I ask. “I don’t have feelings.”
It takes every bit of control I have not to slam the door on my way out.
THE HOURS AT Sammy’s house seem twice as long as usual. I have to admit, it’s Kat who mostly entertains Sam, and without her I have to work a lot harder. Fortunately Star keeps her entertained for a while, but I’m getting a little tired of dressing stupid Barbie dolls by the time Mr. K gets home.
I thinks Mr. K’s a little taken aback by how fast I’m out of there tonight. We often have a visit, in sign language, to brush up his skills, but I need to get home and find out if Kat is okay.
I find her sitting with Dad at the kitchen table. They each have a bowl of soup in front of them and I spot an empty can on the counter. The scene is so peaceful that a stranger would never guess this is not a typical family moment. Kat jumps up and greets Star as soon as we come in the door. I check her face for signs of tears. She looks perfectly okay.
“Well?” I ask her, signing and speaking at the same time, for Dad’s benefit. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she signs, returning to the table.
“And?” I ask.
She smiles. “It’s okay, Darcy,” she signs. “I met her. She seems nice.”
I stare at her, waiting for more, some rush of emo-tion, some hysterics. She goes back to eating her soup.
“She’s changed a lot,” Dad says. “She’s like a different woman.”
I plunk myself down at the table. “What do you mean?”
“She’s been drug free for a long time. She’s no longer paranoid or worried about where she’s going to find her next fix. It’s made her really calm compared to her former self.”
“I thought you said she’s borderline crazy.”
He shrugs. “Maybe not.”
I watch him slurp up a mouthful of tomato soup. “Why didn’t you tell me you were taking Kat there today?”
“I didn’t know until this morning. I had a light load, so I knew I’d be finished work early. Today seemed as good as any.”
“What did you guys do?”
“Just sat around and visited.”
Kat must have read his lips. She drops her spoon and begins to sign. “She’s really good at signing,” she says, way too enthusiastically for my liking. “She’s been practicing, just for me.”
Something snaps in my head. Here they are talking about my mother as if she’s just come back from an extended holiday, all refreshed and ready to carry on. I can’t stand it.
“That woman tried to kill you!” I tell Kat. “Her learning sign language doesn’t make that fact go away!” I turn to Dad. “And if you think she’s so wonderful and calm and safe and uncrazy now, why don’t you invite her to come and live with you here? You think it’s fine to dump Kat on her, but what about you? Are you willing to live with her again?”
I can’t stand the tragic look on Kat’s face. I push away from the table and nearly trip over Star. It’s too much. With a swift kick the dog is out of my way and I’m back out the door.
DAD PULLS UP beside me when I’m walking home from school. The Kippensteins are home this week with Sammy. Kat’s been going over to Mom’s place every day after school and Mom’s parole officer supervises their visits. Me? I’m out playing sports, hangin’ with my friends, having a regular holiday.
Right.
“Hop in.”
I toss my pack into the backseat and climb in.
“She wants to see you,” he says, pulling back out into traffic.
“Not a chance.”
“C’mon, Darcy. Do it for Kat.”
“Forget it, Dad. I have nothing to say to her.”
“Listen, Darcy, you might as well get this over with. Kat is enjoying her visits, so I’d say if you don’t make some kind of peace with her, you’re not going to get to see much of Kat.”
I don’t have an answer for that. I’ve seen how content Kat is when she comes home from visiting her each afternoon. Things are working out for Dad, for Mom and for Kat. Of course, I don’t count. All the years of being there for Kat? Forgotten already.
Dad’s right, though. I am going to have to go eventually, even if it’s just to pick Kat up or drop her off sometime.
“All right.” I try to sound resigned, but my heart starts slamming around in my chest. What will she be like? Will I remember her at all?
Will I feel like killing her?
A few minutes later Dad pulls up in front of an apartment tower. “Suite #504,” he says.
“You’re not coming?”
“No, Darcy. This is something I think you need to face on your own. Besides, Kat’s already there, and so is the parole officer.”
I look up, counting the floors until I reach the fifth one. Nothing but empty balconies. I’m surprised she’d take another fifth floor apartment.
“I’ll be back for you in a couple of hours.”
I find the apartment numbers and a phone on a wall plate beside the front door. Each number has a corresponding name beside it, except for Mom’s. The place for her name has been left blank. I pick up the phone and press in the number. I’d rather be just about anywhere else at this moment, even in the dentist’s chair, having all my teeth removed. Without anesthetic.
“Hello?”
“It’s me, Darcy.”
There’s a pause. “Hi, Darcy.”
A long beep. The door unlocks. I enter the building and push the button for the elevator.
She better not get too close to me.
The elevator doors slide open and I step inside and press the button. The doors shut again and I watch the floor indicator as the compartment climbs past them. Two. Three. Four. I don’t want to be here. Five.
The door slides open, I step off and then Kat is there, wrapping her arms about me in a huge hug. A flood of emotion overcomes me. I shut my eyes, willing the tears to go back to where they came from.
I feel Kat’s warm hand in mine, tugging me. “C’mon, Darcy,” she encourages, pulling me down the corridor.
I allow myself to be led.
Then I see her, standing in an open doorway at the end of the hall. Ten years melt away in an instant. She’s standing there, cigarette in hand, telling me I can come back now. I’m pushing baby Kat up and down the hallway in her stroller. Mom has a friend over and needs me to keep Kat happy while he’s there. I’m delighted to have the responsibility, jiggling the buggy if she starts to whimper. I’ll get candy later, if I do a good job. When I see her friend leave I can bring Kat back in. It doesn’t take long. It never does. I hope I get Smarties. Or maybe a jawbreaker.
“Hi, Darcy,” she says when we reach the end of the hallway.
I’m dropped back into the present with a thud. She’s still standing in the doorway, arms crossed, smoke from her cigarette curling up past her face. She’s smaller than I remember. I glance quickly at her face, but look away. Her eyes are Kat’s eyes, only a million years older and sadder. I just nod. I have no voice.
“C’mon in,” she says, stepping aside. Her voice sounds a little shaky. She better not start crying. I’m out of here if she does.
I enter the small apartment, stepping past the tiny kitchen and into the living room. The furniture is old, but the room looks comfortable. A woman who must be the parole officer is sitting in the far corner with a book. She looks up and nods. I nod back and she resumes reading, trying to look invisible. There’s a plate of cookies on the coffee table and recent school photos of both Kat and me on top of the TV.
“Katrina brought them to me,” Mom signs, indicating the pictures. Her signing is slow, but it’s clear.
I just nod again and sink onto the couch. Kat sits beside me, looking anxious. I guess she’s worried that I’ll do something stupid and shake up this tenuous relationship she has established with her mom; the mom who once tried to kill her. Maybe I should.
“Would you like a Coke?” Mom asks with her hands. “And help yourself to a cookie. Kat and I baked them while we were waiting for you.”
I glance at Kat and she nods proudly. How nice. Mom and daughter baking together. A Kodak moment, I’m sure.
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