Kansas.
Kansas was in the middle of nowhere. It wasn’t near any oceans. They have tornados there. Tammy didn’t know anyone there. It seemed very far away from everything. She didn’t want to move to a new place and not know anyone and have only her family who didn’t understand her.
“I’m not going,” Tammy said.
Her mother said it would be the easiest for Tammy since next year she would start junior high and would be going to a new school anyway.
“I’m not going,” Tammy said again. Her mother said she knew it would be a big change, but they moved here and that was a big change and everything turned out fine. Her mother said that Tammy was in a mood and they would talk about it in the morning. She told Tammy to go wash off her makeup and go to bed.
“No, I’m not going. I’m not moving. I’m staying here.”
“What exactly do you think you’re going to do?” her mother asked.
“I’ll go live with Dad.”
Nick stood up. Tammy thought he was going to yell or punch her out again, but he slowly walked to the kitchen and didn’t say anything.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” her mother said.
“Why not?”
“What about your brother and sister? They would miss you.”
“Not really.”
“Look, it’s not going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“Your dad has to travel a lot for his job. He’s out of town a lot.”
“That’s okay. I have friends here I can stay with when he goes away.”
“Tammy, it’s not going to happen.”
“I’m not moving away with you and Nick. I’ll move in with Dad.”
“Tammy, he doesn’t want you.” She said it in her half-mad voice. Her too-tired-to-yell voice. Her voice that meant just shut up. Just shut up, shut up, shut up, Tammy. Enough, Tammy. I don’t want to hear it, Tammy.
Tammy looked right in her mother’s face. “You don’t want me either,” she said. Her mother didn’t say anything back for a minute, so Tammy knew it was true.
Tammy stared into her mother’s eyes and dared her to blink. “You don’t want me either,” she said again.
“Tammy—”
“Why don’t you put me up for adoption? Then you would be rid of me altogether.”
There was a pause while her mother looked at her and Tammy got the feeling that her mother had thought of it before. If not adoption, something else like it. Some other way to get rid of her. Then her mother took the same kind of saggy breath as when she was going to say no to something and didn’t want to give a reason.
“We’re all you’ve got, Tammy. This is your family. Not Dad. This is it.”
Something inside Tammy took over then. Usually she wasn’t this bully-like with her mother when Nick was around because she was afraid of him. Tonight she felt different. Maybe Kirin’s house was haunted and there was a spell put on her. Maybe she was the Wicked Witch come back to life. Maybe she realized her mother had lost the ability to love her and Tammy had nothing left to lose. She stared at her mother and she spoke very slowly and didn’t yell.
“I fucking hate you, and I fucking hate Nick. I wish you would kill yourself like Kirin’s mom and I hope you don’t miss.”
Her mother was shocked. Tammy could tell. Tammy couldn’t stay in this house with them anymore. She opened the front door and walked outside. When she got to the sidewalk she heard Nick say something like, “She’ll come back when she’s tired.” Tammy didn’t look back. She kept walking. She walked all the way down Bemis Street, past 46th Street, 47th Street, 48th Street, and 49th Street, until she got to Western Avenue, which was the official marker of the city limits. If she crossed that street, she would be in Maryland.
Tammy waited until no cars were coming and ran across the avenue. There were no sidewalks on the other side and the streets were curvy. In the distance, a gas station glowed under bright white lights. It looked like a satellite glittering in outer space. Tammy walked toward it because she didn’t have anywhere else to go.
Tammy didn’t realize she was crying until she walked into the square of gas station light and a man filling up his tank looked at her funny. When she wiped her nose, blood and green stuff came off on the back of her hand.
Tammy found a dime in the pay phone coin return. She dropped it into the change slot and tried to hide behind the scratched-up Plexiglas. She dialed her dad’s number, but the operator came on and told her it would cost more money because it was a long-distance call. Maryland to Virginia. State to state. The operator asked Tammy what she wanted to do and Tammy couldn’t say anything. She asked her again and Tammy started crying. The operator said, if Tammy wanted, she could put it through as a collect call. Tammy said okay.
The phone rang six times. Tammy’s dad picked up and she could hear him talk to the operator for a second.
“Hello?”
“Dad?”
“Why are you calling this late, Tam?”
“I just wanted to know . . .” It was hard for her to talk because her lip was swollen like when she got a novocaine shot from the dentist. Her face had turned to stone and it wasn’t letting her talk.
“I just wanted to know . . . if I could come live with you?”
“What, hon?”
“Can I come live with you?”
“Tammy, where are you?”
“At a gas station.”
“Why aren’t you at home? Isn’t it kinda late?”
“I just wanted to talk to you.”
“You can talk to me the next time I see you. Okay?”
“Can I come stay with you?”
“You’ll stay with me the next time I see you.”
“But can I come live with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Can I come live with you instead of Mom?”
“No, hon. You have to live with your mom. I’ll see you when school’s out.”
“But I don’t want to live with her. I want to live with you.”
“Honey, you have to live with your mom.”
“But she doesn’t want me . . .” and here Tammy’s voice trailed off and bloody snot bubbled out of her nose. She thought her dad said something back, but she couldn’t hear what it was. He went on about how they probably had a fight and she was just upset and that she should go home. Tammy told him it wasn’t about a fight. Her mother and Nick hated her and she hated them. Tammy’s dad didn’t believe her. She asked again if she could live with him and he said her mother wasn’t going to allow it. So Tammy asked him why he wouldn’t allow it.
Her dad was quiet. Then he took a big breath and let it out.
“Look, honey, I’m just not at a place in my life where I can have a bunch of kids all the time. Okay?”
Tammy didn’t understand what he meant. It sounded like he was saying she could live there part of the time, which would be okay because she was in school most of the day. She said over the summer he could send her to sleep-away camp and then she wouldn’t be around much. She said he could even send her to boarding school if he wanted and then she would only be home on holidays, so it really wouldn’t be much different than it was now. He said he couldn’t send Tammy to all of those places. He didn’t have that kind of money. Tammy said she could probably get a scholarship because she got mostly As on her report card. He said he didn’t think they had scholarships for places like that.
“Your dad’s not a rich man. This is all just not going to happen.”
Tammy said she would stay at school all day and be very quiet when she was at home. She thought it could work out. It would just be her and not Steffi.
“Look, hon, do you remember Cindy? Well, Cindy and I are getting married this summer. Cindy’s going to have a baby. So it looks like you’re going to have another brother or sister.”
That made Tammy stop crying. The phone hung in her fingers as if the black plastic receiver were the last autumn leaf clinging to a tree. She fe
lt like a tree with skinny branches in the winter that just snap off. Her dad had said he was marrying Cindy and having a baby like those were happy things, but Tammy felt her branches crack and splinter away. Her dad was her one last hope and now he was gone. He was closing the door to his house in her face.
As she stood in the transparent gas station phone booth, Tammy could see into the future, like someone in a special time machine or a Land of the Lost magic pylon. She could see what it was all going to be like. Steffi would be the flower girl at the wedding and Tammy would be in the pictures wearing a pants suit that itched. And there Cindy would be taking extra-slow steps on Steffi’s petals. Cindy would marry Tammy’s dad and then she would have the same last name as them. She would have a baby and name it after someone in her family whom Tammy and Steffi never met or someone they met at the wedding who smiled at Tammy and Steffi as if to say, “It’s too bad you exist. You make things awkward.” Tammy would be shut out. Tammy realized that’s partly why people like Cindy and her mother have babies when they get remarried, to cut the other kids off. Like some kind of insurance. Tammy’s dad would love that baby more than Tammy, just like her mother and Nick loved Hugh more than Tammy. And everyone automatically loved Steffi because she was cute and sweet and a pleasure to have in class. Steffi made a point of being good so that everyone would love her. Steffi ignored all the bad things and pretended like they didn’t matter. But Tammy couldn’t do that. All the bad things were tied up in Tammy. They used to be good things, but then overnight, and Tammy couldn’t remember when, they had turned bad. It was easy for people to ignore Tammy and assume she was old enough to take care of herself. She thought, that’s what people tell themselves to feel better when they realize they’ve forgotten about you. Or when they don’t want to think about you at all. When they’d rather pretend you didn’t exist. Or when they wished you were dead.
Tammy realized that if she were killed in an accident everyone would be much happier. They would be rid of her. They didn’t like her being around because she reminded them of all the mistakes they had made in their lives. All the stuff they wished they could undo. And Tammy couldn’t let go of the mistakes and pretend they weren’t there. She knew that’s what everyone wanted her to do, but she couldn’t do it.
Tammy didn’t say anything for a long time and her dad asked if she was still there. He said they couldn’t talk too long because it was expensive. He asked where she was and Tammy said she didn’t know exactly. He said that if she knew how to get home by herself, then that’s what she should do. He said, “Bye, hon,” when he hung up. He usually said, “Bye, hon, love you,” but he didn’t say the “love you” part this time. Tammy didn’t say anything. She just hung up.
She walked around to the side of the gas station, went into the bathroom, and locked the door behind her. She pulled the Polaroids out from under her skirt and threw them in the trashcan. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her skin looked extra green under the half-burned-out fluorescent light. Her eyes were puffy from crying so much and her lips were swollen. Blood was caked around her nostrils and her green makeup was smudged. She looked like a witch. She was ugly.
She gathered up her witch’s skirt, pulled down her pants, and sat on the toilet.
The inside of her underwear was stained with blood.
THE VISIT
Josie went on a Saturday when Gretchen was off with friends and her husband was parked on a golf course. When she got to the hospital she accidentally got on the Sabbath elevator. It stopped on every floor because today was Saturday, the day Jews can’t touch any buttons. Josie wished she had something like that, a small ancient rule that actually provided you with a sense of relief.
Josie was buzzed into the ward and then buzzed through a second door into the women’s wing. Because Valerie was on suicide watch, Josie was told to leave her bag with the nurse at the desk. Another nurse led her down the hall, squishing along in her white rubber shoes and white polyester pants that stretched too tightly across her hips. She dictated to Josie a list of rules and said she’d be back to check on her in fifteen minutes.
“Don’t tire her out,” the nurse said.
The door was already propped open waiting for her.
Valerie was lying on her bed in a hospital gown with a second gown wrapped around her shoulders like a cardigan sweater. One arm was bandaged in a sling. Normally Josie would have brought flowers and put a smile on her face. Today she was empty-handed. She couldn’t fake it anymore.
Josie sat gingerly on the edge of the hospital bed. Valerie’s head was turned toward the window; she hadn’t noticed Josie enter the room. Josie thought about getting up and leaving, telling the nurse Valerie was asleep and she didn’t want to disturb her. What was she doing here anyway? What did she want to say? Fuck you? How could you do what you did? Or, we cleaned up the house for you. You don’t have to worry. I’m sure everything will be all right. You’ll get some help. You’ll be all right. Things usually work out for the best. That’s what a good friend would say. She would say all those things and then change the conversation to this-and-that anecdotes, throw in a joke, something funny she’d seen on TV, or some new ethnic food she’d tried at a restaurant.
She didn’t know where to begin.
Josie remembered when she and her husband moved to the block; Valerie was the first person they met. It was summer and Josie was six months pregnant with Gretchen. She wore a kerchief in her hair, a light green peasant blouse flowing over her belly, and tan shorts with an elastic waist. Valerie waved to her from her porch, walked over to shake her hand, and invited Josie and her husband over for a barbecue that night. I know you’ll be too tired to cook, she had said. Valerie helped Josie hang curtains in her new house and pick out sunflower wallpaper for the kitchen. Valerie hosted a baby shower for Josie. Two years later, Josie gave Valerie all her maternity clothes. It was over ten years ago, Josie thought. It was 1970.
In the here and now, in the humid summer of 1982, Josie’s eyes rested on Valerie’s luminous cheek shining up toward the ceiling. Josie was waiting for instructions. She felt like a plane circling the airport waiting for permission to land. In her airy orbit, she wondered what she should do now, now that she was ten or twelve years older, now that she had a sensible haircut and widening thighs, now that she was seated on Valerie’s hospital bed in a psychiatric ward. She didn’t know how to make things better. She had no clue as to how to be a mother or a friend. Is that what she should do? Act like she was Valerie’s mother? When was someone going to take care of Josie? Where was her fairy godmother? I’m the one who’s stuck here, Josie thought. My husband’s cheating on me. My daughter hates me. I’m doing nothing with my life. No one wants to talk to me about any of this. I’m getting painted over along with the rest of the bloody mess. I’m the one who’s alone. All I have is Val.
Josie and her husband hadn’t made love since it happened. All they did at night was watch TV in bed until one or both of them woke up an hour later and switched off the set. Josie realized the last person she kissed, fully kissed on the lips, was Kirin. And it was a futile kiss, one unable to waken the sleeping princess.
Josie scrunched her eyes closed to keep the tears from falling down her face. She let out one gasping sob and quickly covered her mouth with her palm. She felt something brush against her skin. She looked over and saw Valerie gently stroking her arm with two fingers.
“It’s okay, baby,” Valerie said. “It’s okay to cry.”
Josie clenched her stomach in a desperate effort to keep control over her body. Tears spilled over onto her cheeks and flowed uncontrollably down her face. Her mouth torqued into a sad grimace and she cried out in agony. She couldn’t bear sitting upright and collapsed forward into Valerie’s chest. She buried her face in Valerie’s long hair and felt her body embraced by Valerie’s twiggy good arm. Valerie ran a gentle hand up and down her spine and Josie occasionally heard through her own wails a quiet “There, there.” Josie cried until all the wate
r in her body was dried up and her sobs were reduced to a series of convulsive inhalations. Finally, her breath softened, and the two of them lay there together, wet and rumpled and exhausted, like a pair of spent lovers.
The nurse came back and said that Valerie had an appointment. Josie peeled herself off the bed and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. Valerie smiled at her and waved good-bye with her good hand.
The nurse at the desk handed her back her purse. It’s good you came today, she said. She’s being transferred to St. Elizabeths tomorrow. Court order.
Josie stepped into the elevator’s shiny metal box and glided down to the first floor without stopping, without anyone bothering her or asking if she was all right. She walked through the lobby and into the sunny Saturday afternoon of the parking lot. The vinyl of her car seat stung her skin. She shut the door and sat in her sealed automobile breathing in the hot stale air. She hadn’t spoken a single word to Valerie, but there was nothing left to say. It was then that she realized she would never see Valerie again.
Josie rested in the sun-drenched quiet of her parked car until sweat started to drip under her arms and trickle down the inside of her blouse. She cranked open the window and started the engine. As she slowly drove up to the stop sign at the parking lot exit, she thought to herself, I could go anywhere. I’ve got the car and the checkbook. I could drive off anywhere.
A car behind Josie honked a short beep, startling her back to life. Josie looked both ways and instinctively turned toward home.
THE GARDEN
They were having a Halloween party in the middle of June. They probably figured we wouldn’t notice, Jeffrey thought. Or they’re trying to pull some sick joke over on us, make the crazy people crazier by telling them Halloween is in June and acting like it’s normal. They probably want to keep us crazy. After all, Jeffrey thought, we pay the rent.
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