"Richard? Eww—gross! He’s practically my brother!"
"He’s really cute, and he’s so nice and smart."
"Well, if you keep talking him up-"
"No, that’s okay. I think you’re all wrong for him, anyway."
"If you say so..."
For a while, Richard was scarce around the house, and Jessie got used to seeing just Miranda. "Do you like Sophie?" Miranda asked one day after they’d gone ice skating.
Jessie shrugged. "She’s okay. She’s pretty, and she’s always really nice to me, but I wish she didn’t need to be alone with Richard all the time."
Miranda smiled. "Well, sometimes boys and girls like to be alone with each other. I bet you’ll feel the same when you’re older."
"Who do you like to be alone with?"
Miranda blushed, thinking of Alex taking her to the theater the week before. "No one yet. But someday."
"Whatever you say."
Miranda smiled. For now, it was enough to watch Richard and Sophie enjoying each other.
Unfortunately, Michael had ended that fantasy too. Miranda never found out exactly what happened. All she knew was that Sophie had been waiting for her to get home one weekend. She only saw a glimpse of her running out with Michael trailing behind to make sure she left. Sophie wouldn’t return any of Miranda’s calls, but her parents had called Alex. Alex stayed calm, but Miranda could tell that they were screaming on the other end.
Miranda could hardly take it when they sat down to dinner that evening. Both Michael and Alex acted as if nothing had happened, as if Miranda hadn’t just lost someone very important to her. When Michael asked her very politely for the bread, she’d had enough. She walked the bread over to him and dumped it on his head.
"Miranda!" She ignored Alex and ran upstairs. She slammed the door and went through everything of hers that Sophie had given her so she could throw it away, not wanting to be reminded of yet another of Michael’s victories. Then she collapsed on her bed and cried herself to sleep.
She woke up in the middle of the night, still wearing her jeans and tee-shirt. She thought she heard something; that someone was outside her door. She walked over to the door and put her hand on the knob. She thought, or maybe she imagined, that she could feel someone’s heart beating on the other side. It was Alex. Had he wanted to tell her that everything was going to be okay, that she didn’t have to worry? But she did have to worry. She put her hand on the door and started to cry again. She saw feet under the door; the feet stayed, but they didn’t say anything. Eventually, she fell asleep, leaning against the door.
Richard was sad the next time she saw him. Miranda thought that he knew what had happened to Sophie, but she was too afraid to ask him. "I’m sorry," she whispered.
"It’s not your fault," Richard said softly. She knew he meant it but it didn’t make her feel any better. She briefly, just for one moment, hated Alex because he didn’t fix everything.
Miranda’s suspicion that Michael had violated Sophie’s person seemed to be confirmed the next summer, when Alex’s frequent business trips always coincided with Michael’s nearly complete exile from the Hendrickson-Bartolome residence and subsequent presence at Alex’s house. So Michael was home quite a bit, but for the first time in her life, Miranda didn’t have to worry, too much, about any undue harassment because Michael wasn’t usually alone. Frequently, Michael had several young female companions. They would start off in the kitchen, the dining room, or the living room—invariably, wherever Miranda might have been. They somehow always managed to evade Alex’s assistant Keith, which she didn’t think was due solely to luck, and they would scamper up to Michael’s room for about an hour. Miranda would have been grateful for the relief, except that Michael and his friends were usually so loud that she couldn’t think or read or even watch television. It would be somewhat manageable, except that Michael was almost always sure to repeat the entire process at least one more time. And only when Miranda was by herself, never when Richard or Jessie were over.
After over a week of this, Miranda made sure to be out of the house whenever Richard and Jessie were otherwise occupied. She became a frequent visitor of the Museum of Fine Arts, the Harvard Fogg and the Science Museum. She would frequent cafes and movie theaters to keep busy. It was then that she developed a taste for Will Farrell and Adam Sandler movies. A good laugh felt good, no matter where it came from. Her most frequent stop was the Boston Public Library because it was so close to home. She would often smuggle an iced tea or sandwich in and eat lunch in the courtyard connecting the two buildings. She liked to sit, reading a book or sometimes just watching the fountain. She didn’t usually like to be alone, but this was an exception. She felt protected in a place surrounded by books and history.
Sadly, everything closed eventually, and Miranda would have to return home. She would be infuriated to discover that while Michael might have been sleeping in her absence, he would be on the phone within five minutes of her arrival and the whole process would start again.
Fine. She called Richard. "You owe me."
"And why is that?"
"Because he’s here, and not over there."
Fortunately for her, Richard and his Solar Car team had skills. When she told Richard what she wanted him to do, he balked, but she insisted. "I’ve had it!"
She made sure she remained conspicuously present the next week, and sure enough, by eleven o’clock in the morning the next day, the first of Michael’s little friends arrived. Miranda smiled and put on her classic movie DVD, listening through her head phones. But just for good measure, she made sure the Eighties top hits and show tunes which Michael hated were blasting at the same time.
Miranda knocked on Michael’s door one week later. "What?" he barked, not looking at her as he threw his clothes around, looking for his shoes.
"Did I ever tell you about my porn collection?"
"Your what?" Michael looked up and laughed. "Oh boy, Miranda, you really need to get some action, don’t you? Or are you trying to pick up some tips for Alex? Cause, you just let me know, and I’ll be sure to help you out."
"Oh, but you are helping me out already. And maybe I didn’t mention—this is sort of like kiddie porn, I think."
"Wow," Michael said, looking at her from his bed. "Who knew little Miss Princess was such a deviant?"
"Oh, you have no idea. It’s pretty gross actually. Here, let me show you." She popped a disk into his DVD player. It took a minute for Michael to realize what he was watching. "I don’t know," Miranda said, leaning on his bed post as he stared. "I’m thinking that girl isn’t more than, what, fourteen?"
Michael rounded on her furiously. "You little twit!" He grabbed her wrists tightly, but she laughed, even though it hurt. "What kind of a pervert are you?"
"Gosh, I don’t know, does that make me a voyeur? Whereas I think we can just call you a pedophile."
"You’d know, wouldn’t you?"
Miranda didn’t want to waste her breath telling him that Alex had never touched her. "I think you should stop using this house as your Motel Six. What do you think?"
He roughly pulled her. "I think I could just break your arm and then maybe you’d be convinced to mind your own business."
"And I think," she said, starting to gasp with pain, "that I’ve got the camera running right now, and if anything happens to my arm or my leg or any other part of me, everybody is going to know why."
"So I could just kill you," he whispered, "and then no one is going to know anything."
"Do you really think," she whispered back, "that I’m the only one with these disks? I mean, I don’t even have a DVD-burner in my room."
Michael let go then bustled around looking for the camera. He found it at last, and smashed it with his shoe. "Okay, that little game is over."
"But I guess I didn’t tell you how many of these disks I have. And if I have to, I’ll show them to Alex."
"Why? Does that turn him on?"
"Do you want to find ou
t?" Michael didn’t say anything. "I don’t care who or what you do, just don’t do it while I’m in the house, okay? If you can keep to that little arrangement, then this can stay our dirty little secret."
"How appropriate," Michael said, then shoved her out the door. Miranda shuddered, rubbing her wrists. It didn’t matter. She’d gotten what she wanted.
~~~
Miranda came home after high school was finished and insisted, over Alex’s objections, that she was going to the university with Richard. Alex demanded that she at least consider some of the better schools on the West Coast, but she hadn’t even applied. He was unmoved by her assertion that it was his alma mater; in fact, it seemed to annoy him. Jessie had been already been sent away to boarding school and Miranda knew how to break her out of school when she thought they needed a quick trip to New York City. And besides, Richard was still there.
Michael...well, Michael had tried college for a month and a half before Alex agreed it wasn’t working out. Alex decided, with some hesitation, to get him a job through one of his friends. Miranda didn’t understand all of the nuances, but it sounded as if he basically needed to be clean, sober (something of a challenge) and well-rehearsed a couple of times a month for meetings and he was all set. She heard Richard use the term "demo dolly" a few times.
Work meant that he was around less, but as when he had been at boarding school, Miranda and Richard could never depend on him to not show up. They always had to brace themselves for his sudden arrival. Miranda found more solace in the Hillel at the university and the events they sponsored than at home anyway. She regretted not being able to bring those people into her world, but experience had shown her that avoidance was the best way to keep them in her life at all.
Overall, she thought that they were safe. Unfortunately, that illusion was shattered the summer before she met Emily.
Miranda knew she had nothing to complain about compared to Richard. He should have graduated two or three years earlier, but he hadn’t. Richard was one of the smartest people she’d ever met, a perception only enhanced by his quietness. He had a double major, but that wasn’t it. Looking after Michael and now Jessie, who was beginning to develop a much wilder streak away from home than she had shown when she was younger, was a full-time job. He could have graduated on time, but he wanted to graduate well. Miranda admired him for his perfectionism in light of the less-than-perfect circumstances. And she began to hate Lucy Bartolome who, for all her money, was no help at all with Michael and only slightly more with Jessie. At least, Miranda had always believed, she would protect them in the face of a disaster.
Finally, Richard had only one more year to go. The June before, Miranda noticed a lightness in Richard’s step that hadn’t been there before. He told jokes—although not too well—and Miranda and Jessie laughed with him more and more. He was even more jovial with Michael. Richard probably was the closest thing to a friend Michael had, and Miranda thought she saw them actually getting on like real cousins once or twice.
She couldn’t say the same for relations between Michael and herself. Michael had graduated from pushing and bullying to a slower nastiness with her. He would eavesdrop—sometimes openly—on her conversations with Richard, Alex or Jessie just long enough to gather enough information to belittle her. Whether it was her clothing, her classes or her the friends, she kept away from him. Usually, she ignored him—although unlike Jessie she at least acknowledged his presence—unless he started in on an anti-Semitic tangent. Miranda would shout and scream at him, which only made Michael do it more frequently.
Richard was mortified. "I don’t think he means it."
"That doesn’t make it any better."
Richard’s father had left him a house on the Cape. He hadn’t been there that often, but that summer he felt like it was time to have a party, albeit a small one. Jessie and Miranda were invited, of course, as were some of his friends, mostly guys from the solar car team. Miranda rolled her eyes whenever Richard talked about that project. Bless him, because someone needed to do these things, but he was so earnestly enthusiastic it almost gave her hives.
The three of them arrived on a Friday night and the next morning Miranda was helping Richard in the kitchen. It was when she was peeling bananas for the fruit salad while he was humming and setting up the burgers that she realized something. There weren’t any adults there—there rarely were—but this time it seemed normal. Because Richard really was the adult, and not just an overburdened kid who had to babysit. He was a man, having a get-together and enjoying himself. He’d earned it. Jessie came bounding in as Richard opened a beer. "Hey, gonna give me some of that?" she’d said, and they ended up play fighting for the beer. Richard won and put the beer down as Jessie sighed and put her head on his chest. Miranda looked at them and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She loved them both so much, and now they were all happy.
About ten people arrived by eleven that morning. They ran out to the beach, playing volleyball, running through the water, chatting and eating. Miranda couldn’t remember when she’d ever been so relaxed, despite Jessie’s continued attempts to get sand in her food and shoes.
There was a knock on the door. Miranda had her eyes closed as she worked on her tan and hardly noticed. She had almost drifted off to sleep when she felt a shadow in her light. She opened her eyes, and there was Michael standing over her with a big, leering grin. "Who knew you could fill out a bikini so well now?"
She leaped up. Before Richard or anyone else could say a word, she dragged Michael over to the nearby dock.
"Hey, if you wanted some alone time with me, you just had to ask."
"Dream on and shut up!" she said. "How did you get here?"
"I drove, dummy."
She moved in closer and sniffed. No stench yet. "Fine, you somehow managed to stay sober before afternoon kicked in. See if you can make it to five. Don’t mouth off to Richard or any of his friends. Don’t try to prove how smart you are or how geeky, dumb or uninteresting they are. Don’t try to be the coolest guy here by making everyone else feel like they’re little and small. Don’t break anything. Don’t say anything asinine about Jews. Don’t be an ass to Jessie. Don’t make Richard feel like this is just one more day that he has to endure."
Michael didn’t blink. "Are you done?"
"No. And don’t make everyone feel like they have to walk around egg shells around you. It is not all about you today, you get it? I don’t think I’ve seen Richard this happy, ever. Don’t take that away from him. Just one day, Michael. Are you man enough for that?"
"Whatever you say."
Miranda got Michael a sandwich and sat off to the side as he was introduced to Richard’s friends. Michael was charming and inquisitive and actually able to carry on for some of their conversation. Miranda was not easily convinced as she knew what he was capable of, but after about an hour she eased up. Maybe they could all, if not get along, at least comfortably co-exist until the evening.
Richard set up a barbeque for dinner and though Miranda did glance over her shoulder every now and again, she was pleased to see that Michael was still behaving. Jessie, who almost completely ignored him at this point, just shrugged.
Richard wanted to show off his latest technical achievement after dinner. "Aw, Jesus!" Miranda groaned when they got to his basement study. "You set up a network here? Isn’t this supposed to be a vacation?"
"Well, yeah," Richard said, looking around. "But I was kind of hoping the guys and I could test a few configurations for our lab."
"I’d love to see it," Michael said, pulling up a chair. "Maybe I can pick up a few things and get out of this finance racket."
Miranda rolled her eyes at Jessie, who giggled. "Well, I’m going upstairs to...watch some TV. Any takers?"
"Ooh, is the Doctor Who marathon on?" someone said, and then before Miranda could move five guys ran up the stairs to the living room. Miranda cursed under her breath. "Okay! Are you coming Jess?"
"Hmm...decisions, decisions.
I think I’ll just wait here."
Miranda threw up her hands in disgust. "Off to the TARDIS I go!"
"It’s not cool that you know the name of the ship!" Jessie shouted as Miranda went up the stairs.
Of course Miranda knew the name, although she wasn’t as up on her Doctor Who mythology as the rest of the crowd.
"Wait, what happened to Sarah?" she asked when she saw the Doctor, who looked a lot like some guy who’d played Iago a few years ago, running away from alien invaders with a bleached blonde girl who, of course, kept screaming. Someone laughed, and Miranda was given a full list of the Doctor’s companions and the actors who played them. That degenerated into a verbal fistfight over who was the best Doctor. Once they started talking about the bumblebee scarf, Miranda forced herself to get into the episodes which, she had to admit, were kind of entertaining.
An hour later, she heard laughter as Richard and the other members of the Solar Car team climbed the stairs. She laughed when she saw Richard, then her face fell as his did.
"Where’s Jessie?" Richard said.
"Where’s Michael?"
"Oh, those two?" One of Miranda’s companions said absently, popping a nut into his mouth. "I thought I saw them come upstairs when the last one ended."
Miranda jumped over the couch and ran up the stairs, right behind Richard. They started opening the doors when Miranda heard Richard gasp when they got to Jessie’s door. Miranda ran over and caught just a glimpse of Michael’s hand inside Jessie’s unzipped pants before he jumped off of her.
Miranda had never seen Richard angry before. He lunged at Michael and for a moment Miranda thought he was going to kill him. And she was going to let him. Jessie was barely awake and hardly noticed what was happening. Miranda saw the half-empty bottle of Baileys and two glasses knocked over on the floor. She zipped Jessie’s pants, shushing the younger girl as she started to whimper. In a moment, Jessie drifted off.
Richard landed one good punch on Michael’s face. Michael sat on the floor, laughing. Miranda couldn’t tell if he was drunk, didn’t get it, or didn’t care.
The Family You Choose Page 4