By Summer's End

by Pamela Morsi

  “I thought you hated this town,” I said.

  “Where’d you get an idea like that?” she asked.

  “Uh…well maybe it was something about the term Knox Villains.”

  “Ouch,” Mom said, as if the truth pinched her. “Okay, so maybe I exaggerated a bit.”

  “Sometimes that happens.”

  “Would you like to go to the library?” she asked.

  “Yes!” I agreed, excitedly.

  “I thought that might perk you up,” she said.

  “You knew it would,” I told her. “And we’ll make Sierra come along for her own good. She won’t read anything, but maybe just being around the books, some kind of knowledge will seep in.”

  “I doubt that,” Mom said. “But I guess we can try. I’ll get Vern to take you.”

  I stopped in my tracks. “Vern?”

  She nodded.

  “I want you to take us, Mom.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “I’ve got some things to do.”

  “What things?”

  “Personal things,” she answered. “Besides I just got home. I’m tired. It’ll be better to go with Vern. He lives here and actually knows where the library is.”

  “You used to live here,” I pointed out.

  She shook her head. “That was a lot of years ago,” she said. “And I didn’t spend any time in the library.”

  “Not at all?”

  “I don’t remember even visiting the place,” she said. “I was like Sierra. No, actually I was worse. She reads fashion magazines. I didn’t read anything but exit signs.”

  “Exit signs?” I asked, curiously.

  She tweaked my nose.

  “I was always on the lookout for a way to escape,” she said.

  REAL LIFE

  10

  There was something going on. I knew it. Sierra knew it. I suppose even Vern knew it, but nobody was saying anything. Mom had a brief, whispered conversation with the man who was my dad’s father, and he started rousting us out of the house.

  Mom moved her car to the far side of the driveway, underneath an old basketball net, so that Vern could back out his older but very shiny and well-kept Saab.

  Sierra was so taken with the car that she completely forgot about how annoyed she was from being dragged from the television.

  I watched Mom standing on the patio. She was smiling, waving. But there was something bittersweet about her expression. As if we were going off on some exciting new adventure and she could not come with us. Just before we were out of sight, I saw her turn and head toward the little office behind the garage. She was going to speak with Mrs. Leland.

  Vern’s lightheartedness seemed deliberate. I didn’t want to be drawn into it. For Sierra, though, it was welcome. A trip to the library was no thrill, but somehow Vern’s eagerness to show her the city and his enthusiasm for it attracted her.

  “This is the Old City,” he told her, pointing out an area of dark brick buildings on the far side of a huge web of railroad tracks. “It used to be a pretty run-down area, but they’ve been restoring it. There are nice restaurants now. And nightspots.”

  “Do teenagers hang out there?”

  “I don’t know, maybe,” he said.

  Sierra craned her neck forward trying to look. I wouldn’t even glance in that direction.

  When we stopped at a red light, she pointed to an area near the river. It had flags flying and fountains with water shooting high in the sky. In the center was a huge golden dome.

  “What’s that over there?” she asked.

  “That’s the Sunsphere,” Vern answered. “It’s the centerpiece of World’s Fair Park.” He glanced back at me. “Did you know Knoxville was once the site of the World’s Fair?”

  My response was a shrug, being deliberately negative.

  “Did you go there?” Sierra asked.

  “Sure, we went nearly every week,” he answered. “Sonny was about your age, I guess. He’d always liked science, but the exhibits sparked his interest and his friends’, as well. They’d come down here after school to just hang around. Sonny loved all the noise and people from all over the globe and the sheer excitement of it.” Vern paused thoughtfully for a moment as if savoring the memory. “They have wonderful concerts down there now.”

  “Oh! I love concerts,” Sierra told him eagerly. “I went to see BlastOBrees when we were in Seattle. It knocked me out completely.”

  “I think he means concerts like Mozart and Beethoven,” I interrupted. “Classical stuff.”

  “Oh.” Sierra’s comment was short and deflated.

  “It’s a venue for popular music, too,” Vern assured her. “I saw in the paper that KC and the Sunshine Band are going to perform there.”

  Sierra sneaking a look back at me and mouthed KC and the Sunshine Band in the form of a question. I shook my head, not knowing any more than she.

  The library was right in the downtown. Vern pulled into the parking garage and we took an elevator up.

  “We met your neighbors today,” Sierra said to him, simply making conversation.

  “Oh?”

  “What were the names?” Sierra asked me. She hadn’t actually met anyone.

  “Del Tegge,” I answered. “And his kid, Spencer.”

  Vern nodded. “Good man,” he said. He made that sound like a high compliment. “Del and I have a game of chess going most of the time.”

  “He’s hoping that Dakota and his son can be friends,” Sierra said.

  I wanted to strangle her for mentioning it, but I had only myself to blame for telling her in the first place.

  Vern turned to me and nodded approvingly. “That would be a real nice thing, honey,” he told me. “Del and Cassandra just got through a miserable divorce. I suspect Spence could really use a friend.”

  I suppose I should have been honest and told him that I had no intention of ever spending one more minute with Spencer Tegge. But with him looking down at me that way, as if he liked me and respected me, I just suddenly had a hard time being the person that I truly am.

  “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to show the kid a little attention,” I said.

  Vern smiled at me. I recognized that smile. It was my father’s smile in the photograph under my bed. It was Daddy’s smile exactly.

  “I think the teen section is here on the second floor,” Vern told us, as the elevator doors opened.

  Neither Sierra and I were particularly interested in the “teen section.” She would only care about the magazines. And I had graduated from young adult books in the fifth grade. Still we got off the elevator and followed him through the media area to the comfortable zone known by the staff as the Hangout.

  It was not a totally uncool place. Several comfortable chairs and a couch looked out a big plate glass window onto the street. On the walls were posters of rock stars and sports celebs urging us to read. One really hot pop diva was holding her book in such a weird fashion it was obvious that she’d never read anything in her life. I didn’t say anything because Sierra admired her a lot for her cool clothes and the guys she dated.

  “So what do you think?” Vern asked.

  “It’s a nice library,” I answered honestly. And I had been in enough of them to make comparisons.

  “Okay then, you girls make yourselves at home,” he said. “If you need me, I’ll be browsing around in nonfiction.”

  “Sure,” we both agreed.

  We located the current magazines and Sierra made herself comfortable with a stack of them. She loved the glossy pictures and she wasn’t particular. She would be as content with high fashion or entertainment or gossip rags. Just as long as it was slick and colorful with more photos than text she’d be happy.

  I was less easily appeased. My plan was to go downstairs to wander through the shelves of adult fiction. I was headed in the direction of the circular stairs when I spotted Vern at one of the computer terminals. He was looking up a specific title or subject. As he picked up his notes and headed to the
stacks, I was suddenly reminded of the book that I’d left behind in Grand Prairie. The one about chaos theory. What a great idea, to see if this library had a copy.

  I hurried over to the terminal. I sat down on the stool, ready to input my title, when I caught sight of the list of books displayed on the screen Vern had left behind.

  Raising the Babies of Your Babies

  Frontline Grandparenting

  When Your Children Give You Their Children

  Grandma, Where Has Mommy Gone?

  I stared at the titles, my heart in my throat. At first I couldn’t quite get my mind around what it meant. But when I got it, it hit me like a ton of bricks.

  I’d been right. I’d been completely right. All this weird change in Mom’s MO was disastrous news. Mom was dumping us. She was dumping us here with these strangers. After all these years of dragging us from town to town, from Sonny to Sonny, she was finally leaving us behind with the only people who might conceivably take us.

  I just couldn’t believe it. I just wouldn’t believe it. I couldn’t let it happen.

  I ran to the magazine section. Sierra had moved from the spot I’d left her. She was standing with a tall, young guy who had a skateboard in a sling draped over his shoulder.

  “Sierra,” I interrupted. “I need to talk to you.”

  She glanced toward me, her expression annoyed.

  “Not now,” she said.

  “Now,” I insisted. “It’s important.”

  “What could be that important?”

  “This is.”

  She looked at the guy and rolled her eyes.

  “It’s my kid sister,” she told him.

  He nodded, giving me a skeptical look and her a big grin.

  “Go ahead, take a minute,” he told Sierra. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Sierra gave him a wink and moved away at a very unhurried pace. We stepped out of earshot. She was still smiling when she groused at me through clenched teeth.

  “Can’t you see I’m kind of busy here?” she said.

  “Sierra, I think Mom’s dumping us,” I told her.

  “What?”

  “Vern’s looking up books on how to raise kids that get dumped on you,” I explained. “Mom must be dumping us here.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” she said. “Mom’s never going to dump us. She loves us. She’d never leave us.”

  “She’s acting really weird, you know something is going on, and now he’s looking up these books. It has to mean that. What else could it mean?”

  “Look, everything is going to be fine,” she insisted, glancing back to make sure that guy was still waiting for her. “You’ve like been turning into a basket case ever since we got here. Mom’s cool. Knoxville is great. You’re in the library, your favorite place. Why don’t you just chill and have a good time? Don’t bother me anymore. I’m busy talking to Seth.”

  She walked away, unwilling to listen anymore. That’s the very big downside reality of being the youngest. Even when you’re smarter, your big sister will never take you seriously.

  I was genuinely scared. For all I knew, Mom was, at that very moment, packing up the car and heading out of town. Just disappearing would make sense to her, I was sure. Get us out of the way and get gone without any tears or explanations. I’d seen her leave a lot of Sonnys just that way.

  I hurried down to the circulation desk.

  “I need to borrow your telephone,” I told the young woman at the desk.

  “It’s not our policy to allow public use of this phone,” she answered without even glancing up. “There’s a pay phone down the street in front of the courthouse.”

  “I don’t have money for a pay phone,” I admitted, my voice rising with every word. “And this is an emergency.”

  She looked up at me then. I guess I must have appeared as desperate as I felt. Surprisingly, she opened the little half door on the end of the counter and motioned to a phone on an empty desk.

  I sat down and picked up the receiver immediately. I just held it in my hand for a moment before putting it down. The library clerk was waiting on a patron at the desk.

  “Do you have a phone directory?”

  Her expression turned long-suffering but she motioned to the desk.

  “Third drawer on your right.”

  I frantically searched through the book, running my finger down a long list of names until I spotted it. Leland, Vernon H. I quickly punched in the number. It rang twice.

  “Hello.”

  “Mrs. Leland, I need to speak to my mother.”

  “Sierra?”

  “No, this is Dakota. I need to speak to my mother.”

  “Just a minute.”

  The wait was a miserable lifetime as I imagined Mom, clothes and bags and boxes stacked in the back seat, pulling out of the Leland driveway forever.

  “Hello?”

  “Mom, you’re still there?”

  “Of course I’m here,” she answered. “What’s wrong, Dakota?”

  “You can’t leave us,” I said. “You can’t dump us here. We’ve been with you too long. You need us, Mom. I know we’re lots of trouble, but you need us.”

  There was a long hesitation on the line.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said finally.

  “I’m talking about why we’re here,” I said. “Why’d you bring us to the Lelands? You never go back to places you’ve been. You never meet up with people you knew. You’re dumping us here with these strangers, aren’t you?”

  “No, of course I’m not,” she said. “Nothing in the world could make me leave you, if I had a choice.”

  I’d just began to relax during the first part of that statement, before the second part kicked in.

  “What does that mean?”

  Again she hesitated.

  “I wanted to wait until I have everything sorted in my mind,” she said. “I guess when you get home, we can sit down, the three of us, and have a little talk.”

  “I can’t wait, Mom,” I told her. “You have to tell me what’s going on before I go completely nuts.”

  “Oh, Dakota,” she said with a huge sigh. “This is not the kind of news that you tell over the phone.”

  “You’ve got to tell me.”

  “Sweetie, I’m sick,” she said simply.

  “Sick? What kind of sick?”

  “Very sick,” she answered. “I have cancer.”

  SONNY DAYS

  11

  It became quickly evident to Sonny that it was his mother’s fervent hope that his marriage fail. Or maybe she was just hoping it wouldn’t succeed. The news about the baby was received with all the joy and fanfare of the arrival of a plague. His determination to “make things right” with a hasty wedding was not a solution that particularly pleased his parents.

  “There is no such thing as a shotgun wedding these days,” his father pointed out. “Lots of children are born out of wedlock. There’s no real shame in that anymore.”

  “Dawn and I wanted to get married,” Sonny explained. “Sure, we would have liked to have waited, but there’s no need. I want to be a part of my child’s life.”

  He and Vern were alone together in the study of his parents’ house. Seated opposite each other at the chess table, they took turns moving the pieces but neither was paying attention to the game.

  Sonny moved the black pawn to e5 and took the white pawn at d4.

  The women in their lives were notably absent. His mother had offered Dawn only the coldest of invitations. Dawn declined, insisting she had no intention of “ever darkening that harpy’s door.”

  His dad looked unhappy, but at least he wasn’t angry. He moved his bishop to take the black pawn at d4.

  “I don’t know Dawn,” Vern said. “Therefore I am in no position to make judgments about her.”

  Sonny nodded gratefully.

  “I do know you,” his father continued. “I know that you are smart and responsible. But you can be hasty and rash. I beli
eve this marriage is both those things.”

  Sonny raised his chin. “It’s my choice,” he said. “My life and my decision.”

  Black knight took the white bishop at d4.

  Vern nodded acceptance. “That’s true,” he admitted. “Your mother and I don’t agree with your decision, but then we don’t have to. We only have to continue to love you and wish you well.”

  The words sounded good, but there was something ominous about them.

  White rook took the black knight at d4.

  “We won’t be offering any further financial support,” Vern said. “As a married man, you’ll be expected to support your family yourself.”

  “That’s my first priority, to get a better job with longer hours,” Sonny said. “Maybe something in the evenings. We won’t be able to afford much of a place. But we can get by on very little. I think I can make up the difference from what it has been costing you to support me to what it will be costing to support us. You and Mama could pay my tuition and the same money you would have provided for the dorm and books. Your expenses won’t actually go up.”

  He moved the black rook to f8.

  “No, Sonny,” Vern said quietly. “We won’t be doing that. One of the unspoken understandings about accepting financial support from other people is that those people then have a say in your life. Clearly you don’t want that. You’ve made a lifelong commitment to a woman and a child without even bothering to consult us, without even hearing our opinions or considering our council. You do have the right to do that. But we don’t have any obligation to pay for it.”

  Sonny felt he’d been kicked in the stomach.

  “I know that you are not obliged to pay anything,” he said. “I understand that you are angry. I’m sure you’re right that we should have talked this over. But with the…bad blood…between Mama and Dawn, I didn’t feel as if a rational discussion between adults would be possible.”

  Vern moved the white pawn to e5.

  “Your wedding wasn’t the only hasty, ill-considered decision you’ve made here,” he said. “I believe we can assume that this child coming into the world was unplanned. That was reckless on your part.”