My First Love and Other Disasters

by Francine Pascal

  Like lemmings we all head toward the water. Counting the kids, we must be about fifteen. There are so many of us bobbing in the water that if the guys still want to do serious surfing they’ll have to move farther down the beach. I guess the temptation of all those cute girl lemmings is just too much, because pretty soon we’re all fooling around on their surfboards and nobody’s taking anything seriously. Except dumb me, I always take Jim seriously. Kind of cuts into my fun but I can’t help it. That’s just the way I feel about him.

  Jim shows David how to hold on to the board and I feel super because he picked my kid. That must mean something.

  By the time we finish with the water and head up to our blankets Jim has a group of female admirers around him you wouldn’t believe. Actually it’s disgusting, except he doesn’t seem to think so. In fact, he looks like he can hardly tear himself away. When I see how popular he is it makes me think I’m probably wasting my time. I’ll never get him.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Dana talking to Barry. I told you she liked him. And he seems kind of interested in her, which is a little annoying, particularly since he’s supposed to be so crazy about me. Not that I really care because he definitely isn’t my type. It’s just that he made such a big thing about how he felt about me. Sometimes guys really give me a pain.

  “Hey, buddy,” Jim calls to Barry, “I gotta get back. Are you coming?”

  “Sure thing,” Barry says and grabs his board.

  “See you around,” Jim says, and he gives everybody one of his big heart-stopping smiles. Then he sort of points at me and says, “At The Monkey, right?” And I nearly drop dead.

  “Take it easy.” Barry waves, and they both go off down the beach.

  The other girls drift off to their own blankets, and I just stand there staring.

  “Wake up,” Anita says.

  “Did he point at me or did he point at me, huh?” I ask them both, and I’m positively hyperventilating.

  “He definitely pointed at you” Dana says.

  And then I ask them about six more times if they’re absolutely certain it was at me, and they swear it was, and I still can hardly believe it. I would go on about it for another half hour except that Dana has a million questions about Barry that I have to answer. Like I said, she’s interested in him. I tell her everything I know about him except how he feels about me, which he probably doesn’t anymore anyway.

  “Are you going to The Monkey later?” Anita asks me as we break up and head back to our houses.

  “Are you kidding?” I say. “There’s no way I’m not going to be there tonight.”

  “See you later then.” They both wave and go off.

  Ten

  We’re pretty late getting back for lunch. Cynthia probably couldn’t wait for us so she left a note saying she went to the Youngs’ for lunch and would I pretty please make the kids tuna sandwiches and see if I can’t sort of straighten up the house a little because some friends are coming for cocktails. P.S., she says, the vacuum is in the pantry closet, and so is the mop. Good-bye afternoon for me.

  But I don’t mind because if she’s having company, it means she’ll be home tonight and I can get out for sure. Fantastic!

  After lunch David goes to his friends across the street and DeeDee is so tired from the beach she takes a nap. Lucky for me, because it’s going to take me a while to get things in shape. There’s another note from Cynthia on the kitchen table that says only to change her sheets, everyone else’s is clean. I start on the downstairs first so I can be sure that’s ready for the company. I’m just starting to drag the vacuum up the steps when the phone rings. At first I leap for it, but then I remember about the grandfather and I just stand there and let it ring. But—I know this is a long shot—but maybe it’s Jim. Maybe he asked Barry for my number and . . . no way. Still . . . I answer it.

  “Hello?” Very sweet, warm, intelligent person of at least sixteen. That’s me.

  “Cynthia?”

  “No, she’s not home. This is the mother’s helper.”

  “Mother’s what?”

  “The mother’s helper. You know, I take care of the kids and . . .”

  “Great little kids, aren’t they?” whoever he is says, cutting me off right in the middle of my sentence. “Best in the world. How about putting David on?”

  “David’s not home. Who is this please?”

  “What about DeeDee?” he says without answering my question. Except I think I know the answer already. “Isn’t she home?”

  “She’s sleeping,” I say. “Is this Mr. Landry?”

  “How’d you know?” And he gets a suspicious tone to his voice.

  “Cynthia said you might call.”

  “What’d she tell you?”

  Now I’m his enemy and that makes me start to fumffer all over the place.

  “Nothing . . . except she said . . . uh . . . she thought it would be better if you didn’t . . . I mean . . . she said . . .”

  “She don’t want me to talk to the kids, right?”

  “Well . . .” Even though he’s not exactly sweet and gentle the way I expected, still it’s hard to tell him he can’t talk to his own grandchildren. And he seems to be reading my thoughts. He says, “Look, honey, those kids are my flesh and blood—she ain’t got no right to do this.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Landry, but I’m only the mother’s helper.”

  “Well, listen here, mother’s helper or whatever you are, you get that little girl awake and let her talk to her grandpa. You hear me?”

  This is terrible. Cynthia said I should hang up, but I can’t slam the phone down on someone I practically know, especially a grandfather. “Please, Mr. Landry, can you call back when Cynthia is here?”

  “That won’t do me no good; that girl’s too sour. I ain’t saying she’s wrong about that boy—a rotten kid Jed is sometimes—but she ain’t got no right doing this to me and the kids. I’m their grandpa and we got a right to be together. You got a grandpa?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You love him?”

  “Oh, yes, definitely. I love him very much.”

  “What would you think, somebody steps in there and says you can’t see him and they’ve got no good reason?”

  “Cynthia thinks maybe you could talk to your son about the money.”

  “I talked to him about that more’n she has. He’s just a downright nasty boy and I’m ashamed of him. If I had a penny more on my Social Security, I’d pay it myself.”

  Now I feel even worse. I mean, the poor man has no money. I think maybe Cynthia is wrong about doing it this way. But what can I do?

  “Please, Mr. Landry, I don’t know what to do. I have to do what Cynthia told me. Maybe you could call when she’s home.”

  “No good. Tell you what, just wake DeeDee up and let me talk to her.”

  “I can’t, Mr. Landry. Please don’t ask me to do something like that.”

  “But you know it ain’t right what she’s doing. I’m an old man . . . uh, what’d you say your name was?”

  “Victoria.”

  “Victoria, you sound like a nice girl. Let me tell you, I ain’t so young anymore and maybe I don’t have too much time left. I don’t mean I’m sick or anything, but I’m past seventy and . . . tell you the truth, honey, those kids is all I have. And I’m the only grandpa they have. . . . Well, there ain’t much in my life I’m so crazy about, but those kids, they’re special. I guess I love them more than I do . . . well, anyone.”

  When I hear his voice break I start to fall apart myself. Nobody has ever talked to me like that before. I mean, I never had the power to say yes or no like this. It’s terrible. I hate it.

  Right in the middle of everything DeeDee comes down from her nap, still half asleep and creeps onto my lap and snuggles up. She’s soft and all warm from sleep and so lovable.

  “Who’s that you’re talking to,” she asks, and I cover the phone, but it’s too late.

  “That DeeDee?” Mr. Landry a
sks in a loud voice, and suddenly he sounds so excited. “DeeDee, it’s Grandpa!”

  Well forget it. I’m not going to do something I know is really wrong just because someone tells me to. And in a giant burst of—I don’t know, maybe courage or maybe the opposite, maybe I’m too weak to stand up—I put the phone to DeeDee’s ear.

  And her face lights up. “Grandpa!” And then to me, “It’s my grandpa!” And then back to the phone. “Grandpa, I told Victoria all about you and we saw a fisherman today and he wasn’t half as good as you, and I told him how my grandpa is the best fisherman in the whole wide world and David said so too. . . . I miss you too. . . . When are you coming out to see us? . . . How come? I want you to come today. . . . I want you to come tomorrow then.” And then she turns to me and says, “My grandpa can’t come out this week, that’s what he said. . . . How come, Grandpa?” She’s back talking into the phone and they go on for a while, and she’s so cute, and she tells him all about every single thing that happened since she came out here. I mean everything, like what she ate for breakfast, and he asks her lots of questions, and you can tell he’s really interested in everything about her. And then they say, “I love you,” and they throw kisses and finally they say good-bye and the call probably costs him a fortune. I know people get very little money on Social Security, so I guess he’ll have to do without something else to make up for talking to his granddaughter. I’m in a lot of trouble so I’m building up his case. First thing I have to make sure is that DeeDee doesn’t say anything to Cynthia.

  “You really have a terrific grandpa, DeeDee,” I start off.

  And she loves that and she tells me all the things they talked about on the phone, which of course I just heard.

  “Do you have any special secrets with your grandpa?”

  “What’s a special secret?”

  “Something you have that nobody else in the whole world knows. I have one with my grandpa.”

  “What about?”

  “I can’t tell you. Then it wouldn’t be my special secret.”

  “I want one too.” And she wants one so much she’s beginning to pout. So I give her one.

  “Okay, DeeDee, that phone call from your grandpa, the one just now, that’s your special secret. Now, remember, don’t tell anyone else.

  “ ’Cept my mommy. But not David.”

  “Not even your mommy if you want it to be a special secret.” I feel so low tricking a baby like this.

  “Not even my mommy?”

  “Right. Not even your mommy. And you know what happens to people who keep their special grandpa secrets at the end of the summer?”

  “Uh-uh.” And her eyes get twice their size. These kids can smell a prize a mile away.

  “They get a prize.”

  “A kangaroo?”

  “Maybe so.”

  “Oooh.” And she jumps up and down and claps her hands.

  “Are you going to keep the special grandpa secret?”

  She thinks hard for a minute and says, “I’ll ask my mommy.”

  I try a different approach. “DeeDee, if you tell your mommy about your grandpa calling, my grandpa is going to be very upset and I will be too because then you won’t be a member of the Secret Grandpa Club and then you won’t be able to come to the meetings or get the button or anything.” I can see I’m getting to her. She’s a little confused but the button’s got to get her.

  “I want the button,” she finally announces. What did I tell you?

  “Then don’t tell Mommy.”

  “Let me see it.”

  “If you don’t tell Mommy.”

  “Okay.”

  “My grandpa is going to be very happy, and me too.”

  “Victoria?”

  “What, sweetie?”

  “I want my button.”

  “I’m going to write away this very afternoon.”

  “I want it now.” And she screws her face up like she’s going to cry.

  “I have to write away, DeeDee. Look, I don’t even have mine yet.”

  “You promised.”

  “I know and I’m going to do it right now. See?” And I take a scrap of paper and start to write some gibberish.

  “Maybe if I ask my mommy she can call on the phone and then they can bring it over today.”

  “They don’t have any phones, and besides, if you tell your mommy anything, all the buttons will turn green and melt away.” She’s pushing me. If it was Nina I’d tell her she’d turn green and melt away. It’s so much easier with a sister.

  “I swear I won’t tell, ever, ever. . . .”

  “That’s fine. Now let’s finish cleaning up for the company.”

  “Send the letter.” She says it like a midget general. Now that I’ve created a button monster, I’m not about to screw up so I put the letter in an envelope and tell her I’m sending it special delivery. That sounds okay to her and we—well, not exactly we, more like I—finish cleaning. I hope I do a good enough job, because I never really cleaned a whole house like this. At home the most I do is some dishes, and when they really bug me enough, my own room. I finish just before Cynthia comes home and am I pooped. Cynthia says I did a terrific job. She tells me to start dinner for the kids while she throws herself together for her company.

  While she’s talking to me, DeeDee is whispering in my ear how I should ask Cynthia if I can go to the post office. The kid’s developed a button fixation. I don’t know if this is going to work.

  “DeeDee, DeeDee darling,” Cynthia says, “What’s all the whispering about?”

  Before DeeDee can open her mouth, I jump in with how we have a special secret. I do a lot of winking and smiling at Cynthia and make her promise not to ask anymore. Of course, she goes right along with it, and in the adult-pretended-interest way she says, “It’s wonderful,” and starts upstairs.

  “And I’m gonna get a button too, right Victoria?” DeeDee the button maniac says.

  “That’s terrific” Cynthia says, and disappears up the stairs. So far so good. It’s horrendous having your entire career in the hands of a five-year-old.

  Cynthia’s company comes at five, and it turns out to be Eva and Ron Thompson, the people Anita works for. Anita told a whole juicy adultery story about them, and I can’t keep from gaping at them, especially her. After they have a couple of drinks (this is going to shock you) I think I see Cynthia and Ron Thompson giving each other little special looks. Wow! This is a weird place.

  I feed the kids and it’s almost seven and Cynthia and her guests are still having cocktails. Now another couple from down the street comes over, and it’s sort of turning into a party and Cynthia looks hot to get rid of me. So she says when I put the kids in bed I can go out for a while. Super!

  I dive into my makeup. I don’t need too much, because I’m really getting a great tan, but I do my eyes and put on my fabulous new lipliner with the pale gloss on the inside. A final touch or two and down I go.

  Cynthia is so involved she doesn’t even see me come downstairs, but I don’t want to leave without letting her know so I sort of stand around waiting to catch her attention. Finally she sees me so I give her a little wave and start out the door.

  “Victoria, honey,” Cynthia calls me, “wait a sec, will you?”

  I stop at the door.

  “Honey,” she says, coming over to me, “I hate to do this to you, but I think there’s been a change in plans and we might go over to the Thompsons’ later for some drinks so I don’t think you’d better go out.”

  “But I told some people . . .” One look at her face and I know it’s no use.

  “I’m really sorry, dear, but . . . maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow night for sure.”

  There’s nothing I can really say. I mean, she’s paying me to take care of the kids, and if she decides to go out I can’t tell her not to. Still, that seems sort of mean because she isn’t even sure if she really is going. She only said they might. Maybe they’re not planning to go for a couple of hours. I wouldn’t care i
f I could only stay for a little while.

  “If you’re not going for awhile,” I say, “I could be back in an hour, even less.”

  “No, dear, I don’t like to be tied down. Come on, Victoria. Don’t look so unhappy. You have a whole summer ahead of you.”

  That’s the same garbage I told David. There’s no point in standing there with my face hanging out, so I go back upstairs and I cry.

  Well, that’s not so peculiar considering I’m very disappointed, and besides this was practically a semi-date with Jim and now it’s going to be like I’m standing him up and that’s certainly going to be the end of me. Can you picture anyone standing Jim up and getting another chance? Never.

  There’s got to be a way to get out tonight.

  Eleven

  I must have fallen asleep because next thing I know it’s midnight and the house is quiet. I’m still dressed so I slip out of bed and creep downstairs to see what’s up.

  The living room is empty so they must have all gone out. I check on the kids and they’re sleeping fine. Cynthia’s door is open so I go in to get the new Vogue she said I could borrow. I’m not in the least tired. Just miserable.

  I’m two steps into the room when I see Cynthia is in her bed sleeping. She didn’t go out after all.

  Damn. I could have gone. She really stinks. Maybe she came up to tell me and saw me sleeping and figured I wouldn’t want to go. Still, she could have waked me and asked. She must have seen I was dressed. I think she’s kind of selfish. She probably didn’t even think about me at all. Maybe I’m not so crazy about her anymore. If I tried hard enough I could probably hate her guts. She ruined my entire summer. Maybe my entire life. Damn her!

  Maybe I should wake her up and ask her if I could go now. Ten after twelve isn’t that late for a disco. Nah.

  She’d probably say it’s too late to be going out. “What would your mother say?” or something like that. Besides, I wouldn’t have the nerve to wake her up to just ask her if I could go dancing. Even if it is just probably the most important night of my life.