I don’t know why I haven’t told you about Adam before. Maybe I was afraid it would mean bad luck for Lew and me, or some crazy other something. Anyway, Adam is a lot like Kyle, Lew’s brother, don’t you think so?
Friday, July 12
10:54 P.M.
Adam has a car. His very own car. It isn’t much, but it’s his! Maybe someday I’ll have a car. I can’t wait. There is no way Dad will let me drive his Porsche by myself—only when he’s with me.
Adam and I went to an Indian lecture. Then we went and had pizza. It was Dutch. I’m a liberated woman now, and I want Adam for a friend-friend, not a boyfriend. It’s so much more comfortable.
Monday, August 5
Dear Self:
I have a secret that I can only tell to you. I think I’m getting better, I really do. The fact is I KNOW I’M BETTER! I work all day at the office; then Adam and I do something a couple of nights a week. They have lots of wonderful things to do here, so we don’t always have to go to movies. They have pop and rock concerts by not-so-well-known people all the time, and some of the groups are really good. Adam plays wind instruments. His dad used to play with a name band when he was young; now the three of us get together and just have fun. Mr. Alred has taught me to read chord music. It’s really hot, and it wasn’t that hard. He says I’m “naturally talented,” but I think he just says that because I’m Adam’s friend. Still, I must remember “the sin of ingratitude” and be appreciative. Aunt Thelma says I’m “gifted” with art. I know she’s partial, but just between the two of us, I think maybe I’m pretty good too. Is that being conceited? If it is, don’t tell anybody. Okay? Okay.
Adam and I like the live plays here too. He says next summer he’ll try out for one if I will. Maybe we should. Maybe we will! I guess I’ll stay here and go to school.
2:15 A.M.
Dear Self:
I know you want me to talk to you more about Mom and the gaggle, but I can’t I really can’t. It hurts too much. If I pretend they’re pretend, it’s easier. I know that sounds dumb and childish and all that, but please give me a little more time. Okay?
Sometimes when I think about Lew, he seems more unreal than real, like maybe I dreamed him up or something. It scares me that they all seem so dim…but whatever…I can’t handle their ghosts in my life right now. Okay?
I have to talk to Mom every Sunday when she calls, and she’s been here three times, but I can’t read the letters the kids send, not yet.
I’m bawling like the floodgates to my soul and hell have broken open, vomiting up all my pain. You see, I can’t seem to separate the good from the bad right now. Please, please don’t make me try again. It hurts less if I detach myself.
Friday, August 9
We’ve named ourselves the Almost All Red Aborigines, and Adam’s mom is playing the bass guitar with us. His dad says she used to be a hippie, but of course he’s kidding. But maybe he isn’t, because she’s taught us some of the almost classic old songs they did in those days, and we’re going to play them at her class reunion. Doesn’t that sound like the greatest? I didn’t know old people could be so much fun. Well, they’re not really old, but then they are too.
We invited Dad and Liz and a few people from the office over to the Alreds’ for a party, and we played. They all went crazy, even Dad. It was fun to watch old (well, lots older than we are) people loosen up and get with the music. Mr. Alred bought a little electric piano so we could move it out by the pool. That’s super cool, because now I can watch all the action.
Monday, August 19
We’ve had two paid gigs since the office party. Adam’s mom and dad play for fun and give Adam and me all the money for our college funds. Last night at a party for a local club, three men who used to be in bands when they were young sat in with us. It was a blast. We had others coming up to sing the lyrics. Some were good, some were so-so and one guy was terrible. In fact, he was so bad he was funny. He acted really serious and everybody howled and clapped and clapped. Most of them even stopped dancing and just egged him on.
Tuesday, August 20
6:15 P.M.
At dinner Dad was grinning like a mean little kid. He said he had a surprise for me, and even though I whined and teased and begged and coaxed and sat on his lap and pouted like I used to do when I was a spoiled little bratty boob, he wouldn’t tell me what it was. We’re really getting close, and I love it.
Friday, August 23
2:30 A.M.
Pinch me, Self. I think I’m dreaming. I came in from work early and piddled around the kitchen like I usually do, then went into my room to get into some shorts and guess what? El was flopped out on my bed like she belonged there. I was so surprised I almost wet…erase…For a moment we just looked at each other. Then we hugged like we’d never let go. I don’t know when I’ve ever been so happy. My heart was flopping around inside me like a goldfish out of water on the floor. We both started talking at once, laughing and giggling and squealing like we had in grade school. I’m sure Dad could have heard us at his office downtown.
Dad came home and took us out to dinner; then we scrambled back into my room to talk some more. Dad came in about eleven to warn us not to stay up all night and giggle, but I knew from the look on his face the he knew we’d do it anyway. He kissed us and tucked us in like we were ga-ga’s. It was wonderful. El is the sister I’ve never had, and I love her with every atom of my self. I don’t know how I could have tried so hard to cut her, and the rest of the gaggle, out of my life for so long. What a coo-coo I’ve been for not letting them in when I needed them most.
They’ve written me long letters and sent pictures and called, and I’ve just tried to pretend they didn’t exist, never phoning and only returning say-nothing notes. What a nutso fruitcake I’ve been. I love them and admire them and need them completely. I apologized and apologized to El, and she just gave me a nogie and a face squish and told me she was glad I’d finally gotten my beans together.
I don’t know when she’s going back, but I hope it’s not for a long, long, long time, because it’s going to take forever for us to catch up on everything. But let me fill you in on a few things.
Dorie had her baby August 22. It was a girl! She gave it to a nice couple in California who have been trying to have children for seven years. The lady is twenty-eight and the man is thirty. They have a nice home, and he’s the manager of a pro golf shop. It’s sad, but it isn’t sad too. Everybody wants what’s best for “Little Dorie.” I don’t care what those people name her, she’ll always be “Little Dorie” to El and me.
Lew has spent most of the summer working with his uncle in Raleigh. El says he always wears my CHK ring on a chain around his neck. It got too small for his finger; rather, his finger grew too big for the ring. That makes me embarrassed because I haven’t worn his ring since I got here. Maybe I’ll put it back on…think I should? Think I dare?
Red is still Red. I miss her so much!
My mom, El says, just seems sort of “gray” since I left. She smiles every time they meet, but only her outside smiles, not her inside. I wish I could remember exactly how El explained it, but anyway, I get the picture, and I feel sooooo selfish and self-centered. I haven’t been thinking about her pain and strain and fears and tears at all, only about my own. Maybe I should go home for school. So I did wet my pants in the theater. It’s my word against Delta’s and by now everyone’s probably forgotten anyhow. It would be fun to be home for Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas. Oh, I want to wake El up and talk about it, but she’s sound asleep making little kitten kinds of purring noises. I’d forgotten how neat they sound.
Monday, August 26
El had to go back Sunday, and I miss her more than I thought possible. It’s like part of my body has been amputated. She says the gaggle is hoping and praying I’ll come back for school. How could anyone resist that? Dad had it set up with Liz to let me take off while El was here, and we haven’t been apart one minute except to go to the bathroom. Even then one time El sta
rted jumping up and down outside the door, banging and yelling, “Hurry up, hurry up, I’m lonely, and we can’t waste any time apart.” I came out, and we fell on the floor laughing till we cried. It was like the good old days.
Tuesday, August 27
9:10 P.M.
After work Adam and I went to the mall, then had pizza and took in a movie. I love him in a sacred, comfortable, friendly way, but he’ll never take the place of any member of the gaggle. Sometimes we hold hands or he puts his arm around me, but I don’t get goose bumps and that warm, glowing feeling that overwhelms me when Lew does the same thing. El assured me that Lew doesn’t have another girl, but…
If I didn’t have…it…I’d go home in a minute. Please, please, Self, tell me what to do.
What’s best for me?…for Lew?…for everybody? It’s kind of like with Dorie and Little Dorie…sometimes the main person isn’t the main person at all! Maybe I should just think about Lew and let him get on with his life. But then again, maybe I should go have a checkup and take it from there. It would really be nice to be home for Mom’s birthday, September 27. Maybe I could even have a surprise party for her. We could have it in the clubhouse, and maybe I could get together a little combo like we have here.
2:47 A.M.
This is really strange. My own whimpering woke me up. I was dreaming about how much I loved my precious forever mama and how achingly lonely I was for her. I’m a part of her. I grew from a tiny egg inside her warm body. For the first time since I came to Dad’s, I am allowing myself to feel the true warm wonder of our holy relationship. It’s so comforting and protective and belonging—and I want to go home! Home! Home! I’ve got to go home! I don’t want to cut Mom out of my life anymore.
I’ll talk to Liz the first thing in the morning; I’ll call Mom as soon as it’s a decent calling hour, or maybe even while it’s an indecent hour—so there.
Wednesday, August 28
7:15 A.M.
I was just getting ready to call Mom, even though it’s earlier there than here, when I remembered that Trudy broke her arm last week. I can’t just up and quit Liz when she’s been so nice to me and she needs me so much and has shuffled things so I can work part-time after school starts. I can’t do all of Trudy’s work, but I can do enough of it so that Beth can cover. I wonder how long it takes an arm to heal. Something tells me it’s six weeks, but I can’t wait five whole long weeks more. Oh, garbage, why couldn’t it have been me? The office can get by without me, but not without her.
I guess I’ll just have to wait and talk to Dad tonight, but I know he’s as mixed up as I am. I often hear him crying in the night. I’m hurting everybody I love sooooo much!
Thursday, August 29
6:17 P.M.
Dad talked to Liz, and she’s going to try to get someone as soon as possible. I guess I can live with that, especially since Dad said I can call Mom and El tonight and tell them I’m going to come back there for school, even if it’s a little late.
Friday, August 30
11:01 P.M.
Dear Self:
Our Arizona high school classes start Tuesday…four more days…four more spooky days. Adam had driven me by where I’ll go, but today we got out and wandered around. It isn’t the high school he goes to, but they do have competitions against each other sometimes. He thinks I’ll like the kids and the teachers and everything. I’m so excited and S-C-A-R-E-D, but I try to think about proms and stuff. I dreamed for one moment about inviting Lew here; then I remembered I won’t be here by then! I’LL BE THERE! WOW! WOWIE! MAG! MAGNIF! MAGNIFICENT! I can handle a week or so here, or can I?
Sunday, September 1
Dad and I went to Mass just to give me some courage for Tuesday. Then I took hours deciding what I’d wear to my first day of school. I don’t want to look too fancy, but then I don’t want to look dowdy either. Kids can be pretty cruel…cruel if you’re not wearing the cool “in” thing.
Friday, September 6
6:21 P.M.
I’ve been trying not to be negative, but I can’t stand it anymore. I simply can’t keep all the hostility bottled up inside myself, I’ll explode! I HATE THIS SCHOOL! I DETEST AND LOATHE IT!! It’s like I’m invisible. I can be walking through the halls with hundreds of kids on every side, and no one even sees me. I didn’t know how lonely a person could feel when she is part of a scurrying mass of strangers—part of, but not part of! It’s much, much, much more lonely than it ever could be being alone!
For one moment just before lunch, when I knew I’d have to eat by myself again in the cafeteria, I wanted to jump up and down and scream, I’VE GOT AIDS. I’VE GOT AIDS. I’VE GOT AIDS. Then they would have paid attention to me, I bet. Later, when I was sitting at my desk in English, I day-dreamed of slumping over and dying a slow, tortuous death so they each could see how much their ignoring me hurt. Can’t they…don’t they know that unreal pain hurts almost more than real pain? But how could they know, when I didn’t even know it until now?
They couldn’t hurt me more with bats and chains and knives. I’ve never given a thought to new kids before. I grew up with most of the gaggle since kindergarten, most of the other kids too, and I’ve always belonged. I didn’t realize how much being an outsider can hurt, how humiliating and ego-battering it is. Dear God, I promise from now on I will be considerate and kind to every stranger I meet, except possibly dangerous ones on the street and stuff, of course. Maybe, God, you wanted this to happen to me so I’d have a chance to see and feel what it’s like to not belong. It has, believe me, taught a lesson I’ll never forget and I don’t need any more of. Please, please, no more.
I called a home teacher and asked if she could come to Dad’s, but she said she can’t if I’m well enough to go to regular school. Well? I’m body “well,” but more heart and emotions sick than I’ve ever been!
How can society do this? I want to die, but dying is not that easy, so I guess I’ll call Adam and spill my guts out to him. Please, God, let him be home.
Saturday, September 7
6:45 P.M.
I woke up so tired I could hardly force myself up to go to the bathroom. I guess I’ve been burning my black negative candles at both ends, whatever that means.
I’ve pushed myself all day just to do the things that I usually do unconsciously. I’m going to bed as soon as I fix myself something to eat.
Monday, September 9
5:30 P.M.
This is kind of scary. I’ve gotten ten hours’ sleep for the last two nights and taken a nap each day, and I still feel, and I guess act, exhausted, because even Dad and Adam have noticed it.
Oh, please, dear God, not it now, not it again.
Tuesday, September 10
I guess I’m depressed about not being able to go home, because I’m feeling more lumpy and grumpy every day. A few kids have started treating me like I’m an earth-being and not from another planet, but that doesn’t heal the past pain. Isn’t it funny that new kids are either accepted as prime-time attractions or as nothings? I wonder if it’s true of adults. I think not! It’s too immature.
Wednesday, September 11
4:10 P.M.
For the last few days I’ve stayed in bed every minute I wasn’t at work or school, but I feel lumpier and grumpier than ever, anyway. I don’t know how I’m possibly going to handle both school and work tomorrow, even though it’s my last day! Then I’m outta here! Goody-bye, Arizona!
My chest hurts, my arms hurt, my legs hurt, even my hair and my toenails hurt. I told Dad I was just taking my last licks at being lazy, but something deep inside tells me that it’s more than that! I guess I should have called Dr. Marx. He’s the doctor in Phoenix that Dr. Sheranian told me to see as soon as I got here, but I’ve felt so good I didn’t need him till now. I think this is only the flu, but…
7:10 P.M.
When Dad got home he immediately called Dr. Marx. Dr. M. said Dr. Sheranian had told him about me and that he’d see me as soon as I could get in.
&nbs
p; Dr. Marx is black, and he’s so young I thought he was an aide of some kind. He’s funny, and he’s so unplastic that I liked him immediately. He works in a nice little clinic, and he sent Dad out of the room as though he were the child instead of me. Me he treats “with the utmost respect and reverence” because “I am a member of the superior sex.” His nurses snickered when he said that, and he picked up a male urinal, held it high, waved it around and said it was his scepter and that he knew what he was saying and doing. Then he assured me that he’d call Dad when he had finished running all the tests he wanted, which might take some time. I’m glad I remembered to stick you in my bag, Self. It would have been a dull, long evening without you.
They’ve punched and probed and X-rayed and shot me. Dr. Marx says he thinks I have an infection. I hope that’s all it is, because that they can clear up with antibiotics in no time.
9:45 P.M.
Not my kind of infection they can’t It’s AIDS-related and…all the evils of my past and future have come back to haunt me. Maybe this is an omen that I shouldn’t go back home…ever.
Tuesday, September 17
My home schoolteacher just left the clinic. He says I’m doing well with all my subjects and that I won’t have any trouble homogenizing with my class when I get home. I thought “homogenize” was just something you did with milk, not people. I’m not sure I’d ever want to be that much a part of any of the people here, except, of course, Adam and Dad and Liz.
Wednesday, September 18
I’ve been well enough to go back to Mom’s for ages, but Dr. Marx won’t release me until he’s “absolutely, positively, for sure certain” that my good bugs are in charge of my bad bugs.
Saturday, September 21
6:11 A.M.
I’m flying home at 2 P.M. this afternoon. I’m not sure I can wait that long. I’m so happy, happy, happy. I’ll miss Dad a lot, and I’ll miss Adam and his family too. They’re like my second family. I’ve spent almost more time there than I have with Dad. I wish Dad was a dentist so he could just work certain hours and be through. He’s a slave to his business. Adam’s mom works two mornings a week in her husband’s office, so she’s always home with food and smiles and stuff when we go over there. I almost can’t remember when Mom didn’t work and I didn’t have a couple of hours by myself after school before she got home. Life is really weird, isn’t it? Nobody’s ever got everything all good. It’s like with Adam and his buddies; they’re always talking about girls, but they never seem to go with them, so it’s just me and Adam and them when we’re together. I mostly just listen while they talk sports and rollerblades and stuff.
It Happened to Nancy Page 13