Sincerely

by Courtney Sheinmel

  “Sophie,” Mom said. “I didn’t hear you knock.”

  “I didn’t knock,” I told her. Mom wiped her eyes quickly, but I saw it anyway. I had seen Mom cry more times since Dad had left than I had before in all the eleven and three quarter years of my life. “I thought you said there wouldn’t be any fighting after he left,” I said.

  “Oh, Sophie,” Mom said.

  “Just forget it,” I said. I knew she had been making it up. If they were going to fight anyway, then I’d rather have both my parents in the same house, but of course I didn’t have a choice. Mom couldn’t always be counted on to tell the truth.

  “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” Mom said. “You have school tomorrow.” I knew she was trying to get rid of me.

  “What did Dad say he was going to do?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “When you said ‘Don’t you dare,’ what had Dad just said?”

  “You shouldn’t have been listening to that,” Mom said. “It was a grown-up conversation.” I thought about telling her that sometimes I acted like more of a grown-up than she did, but I didn’t say anything. I just walked out of the room. Mom called “Good night” after me, but I didn’t answer. My heart was beating fast again, and I tried to figure out what I was scared of. Dad had already moved out, so what else was left to happen?

  A few minutes later Mom came into my room. I was turned toward the wall, counting backward from one hundred to try to fall asleep, and even though I was still awake, I didn’t know she had come in. “Sophie,” Mom whispered, and I jumped.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “I just wanted to check on you.”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  Mom sat down at the edge of my bed. “There’s always going to be a little fighting, Soph. We’re still working this all out. But really, it’s nothing for you to worry about. Nothing.”

  “Are we still going to Florida?”

  “Do you want to go?”

  I thought about it before I answered. I didn’t really want to be in New York for New Year’s. It would just remind me of how sad it was that Dad and Jessie weren’t there. A few days by the pool at Grandma’s club without having to think about either of them sounded much better. “Yes, I want to go,” I told her.

  “Okay,” Mom said. “Then we’ll still go.”

  “What about Dad?”

  “Don’t worry about him,” Mom said. “He just misses you, that’s all.”

  Mom kissed me good night and went back to her room. I looked at the clock and saw it was already almost midnight. I had to be awake in seven hours, which wasn’t very long at all. I thought about what Mom said—I hadn’t worried about Dad in a while, at least not about how he felt. Even though I wanted to go to Florida, I was sorry he would be alone during the holiday. Isn’t it funny that he was the one who had left Mom and now he was the one who was alone? A week earlier, Haley had given me another letter from him. “My Sophie,” he wrote, “I called you Thumbelina because you were small and full of love, just like in the song. I’m sorry you didn’t like the nickname, but that is always how I will see you. However, since you say you despise (hate) it, I won’t do it again.”

  I rolled over in my bed and starting counting backward from one hundred again, but I don’t think I ever got to the number one. Somewhere in the middle I fell asleep.

  Fourteen

  HALEY AND I sat on the edge of Mom’s bed and watched Mom pack for Florida. With Mom, packing is more of an event than a chore, and she takes a very long time doing it. I don’t know why she thinks it is so hard—she always ends up taking everything she owns anyway, so it’s not like she has to decide anything. When she had finally finished, Haley and I sat on the ends of her suitcase so she could zip it up.

  Haley and I packed for ourselves without Mom. It goes much faster that way. Right before we zipped up our bags, we called to Mom so she could check that we had enough for the long weekend. Of course we did; I’m a very good packer.

  “It looks perfect,” Mom said.

  “I’m very efficient,” I told her, using a word Dad had taught me when I was Haley’s age.

  “You certainly didn’t get that from me,” Mom said.

  We left for Florida on a Wednesday. The night before, Haley had gone to have dinner with Dad. I didn’t go with them, but I did give Haley a card to give to Dad from me. I thought maybe he should have something from me so he wouldn’t feel so alone on New Year’s. “This is for Dad?” Haley said, sounding shocked.

  “Just give it to him,” I said. “And don’t make a big deal out of it.”

  “But, Sophie,” Haley started. Then she stopped. Sometimes even Haley knows when to hold back.

  The next day the plane was really crowded with families going away for the holiday. We had gotten our tickets on the late side so we had seats at the back of the plane. I hated it because it meant we were seated right by the bathroom and it smelled awful every time someone opened the bathroom door. The flight seemed to last twice as long as usual, and when we finally landed, it took forever to get off the plane. But the minute we stepped off the airplane, I felt better. The air was a lot warmer. Florida is warm all year long, even during the winter. I was wearing jeans and a sweater, and carrying my jacket, because it had been freezing when we’d left New York, and I couldn’t wait to change into shorts and a T-shirt.

  Grandma was waiting for us at baggage claim. “I was getting worried because you took so long coming out,” she said.

  “We were at the back of the plane, Ma,” Mom said.

  “Yeah, and it stunk,” Haley said. She pinched her nose with her fingers. “Pee yew!”

  “Oh, you poor girls. I worry about you so much,” Grandma said.

  “You don’t have to,” Mom said. Mom always tells Grandma not to worry. Meanwhile she worries about Grandma all the time.

  In the car to Grandma’s house, Grandma kept asking Haley and me how we were doing.

  “We’re doing okay,” I told her. But Grandma wasn’t really listening to my answer. She just shook her head and made a clicking sound with her tongue.

  “I’m doing great,” Haley piped up. “I made a reindeer piñata at school. Right now it’s hanging in my class, but next week when we go back to school, Mrs. Warshall is going to take all the Christmas decorations down so I get to take it home. Then Sophie and I are going to smash it open and eat all the candy.”

  “Oh, no. You’ll ruin your teeth,” Grandma said.

  “Ma, you worry about everything,” Mom said.

  The next day was New Year’s Eve. Since Mom is a terrible cook, and Grandma doesn’t move around as easily as she used to, we went to Grandma’s club for dinner. The club is right across the street from Grandma’s house. You can see it from the front porch. Grandma said we had to be there no later than five o’clock, which seemed like a very early time to eat dinner, especially on New Year’s Eve. I wanted to stay up at least until midnight to see the ball drop back in New York, and I knew I would get hungry again. But Mom said people eat earlier in Florida.

  I was ready to leave for dinner by four thirty, and I sat by the window watching people walking over. Grandma lives in a development called Highland Park. Really it is just one big street called Highland Park Road that winds and winds around. There is a guard at the entrance, so only the people who live there and their guests can come on the street. The club is in the center of the development and it is called the Highland Park Room. I guess whoever named things in the development wasn’t that creative. Mostly older people live there, and practically everyone was going to the club for the holiday dinner. Mom was right about people going there early; even at four thirty I could see people were already arriving at the Highland Park Room.

  Haley came over and sat down next to me. “Only seven hours until it’s a new year,” she said.

  “It’s more than that,” I said.

  “Well, when we get to dinner, it will be only seven hours until the new year,” she
said. “Guess what I told Dad the other night?”

  “What?”

  “I said, ‘See you next year.’ Get it?”

  “I get it,” I said.

  “Aren’t I funny?” she asked.

  “A riot,” I told her. Haley grinned even though I was being sarcastic.

  Twenty minutes later Mom was also ready to go. “Ma,” Mom called. But Grandma didn’t answer her. “Haley,” Mom said, “go tell Grandma we’re all ready.”

  Haley skipped away toward Grandma’s room. She was in her favorite purple skirt with no jeans underneath, since it was so warm in Florida. I was wearing a skirt too, but at least it was a jean skirt. I hoped Grandma wouldn’t mind, because she likes us to get dressed up when we go to the club.

  Haley came back over to us without Grandma. “Grandma can’t find her keys,” she said. “She thought they were in her purse but they’re not there.”

  “Ma,” Mom called again.

  Grandma walked out of her room wringing her hands. “I’m so stupid,” she said.

  “It’s all right, Ma,” Mom said. “We’ll find them.”

  “Oh, I’m so stupid,” Grandma said again.

  “Mom, why does Grandma keep saying that?” Haley said.

  “It’s hard to live alone,” Mom told her. She got up and put her arm around Grandma’s shoulder. “Let’s worry about it later, Ma. Where are the spare keys?” Even though Mom was the daughter and Grandma was her mother, Mom acted like she was the grown-up. I wondered if Mom would be like Grandma when she got older. She would be alone too, since Dad was gone and Haley and I would grow up and move out. Maybe that’s why lately I had felt like I had to take care of Mom.

  The spare keys were in a dish by the front door, and Grandma’s keys were right next to them. “You see,” Mom told her. “I knew we’d find them.”

  “But I never put my keys there,” Grandma said.

  “Well, this time you did,” Mom said. “Come on. You don’t want to be late for dinner.”

  We walked across the street to the club. Grandma didn’t say anything about my jean skirt, maybe because losing her keys had distracted her. Haley skipped up the sidewalk in front of the club. “Give our name to the host,” Mom told her.

  “Table for Vivian Woods,” Haley said in her most grownup voice. Vivian Woods is Grandma’s name—we have to use her name to go anywhere in Highland Park.

  “Right this way,” the host said.

  I had never seen the club so crowded. The host seated us at a table at the far side of the room. There was a big buffet set up in the middle. Grandma said not to take too much food, because we could go back as often as we wanted and there was no reason to waste. Haley and I stood to get food, but before we had a chance to leave the table, two other women walked up to our table. “Oh, Vivi, your girls!” one of them said. She pinched Haley’s cheek hard. “I just love your freckles.” Haley rubbed her cheek, which was turning red.

  “Haley, say thank you,” Grandma told her.

  “Thanks,” Haley muttered, and then walked over to Mom and hid behind her. I used to do that when I was little, but Haley is not the kind of kid to be shy and hide behind Mom. I think she just wanted to make sure she didn’t get pinched anymore. I had never been so happy to not have freckles.

  We finally got our food, but eating it was interrupted a bunch of times. Grandma was so happy to have us there. She forgot all about losing her keys and she kept seeing other people she wanted to introduce us to. It was kind of annoying, because it meant that we had to keep getting up in the middle of dinner and follow Grandma across the room to yet another old couple she wanted us to meet. But Mom said we had to do it for Grandma.

  “This has been my best New Year’s,” Grandma said when we got back to our table after meeting another one of her friends.

  “How come?” Haley said.

  “Because my family is here,” Grandma said. “Come here and give me a hug.”

  Fifteen

  Dear Katie,

  Happy New Year! We’re in Florida now. We’ve been here since Wednesday and now it’s Saturday. It’s really nice to be away from all the stuff in New York—you know, the stuff with Jessie—even if it’s just for a few days. In Florida I can pretend that everything is the same as before. My only problem here is that my grandmother thinks it’s too cold for Haley and me to go to the pool. There’s a pool at the development where my grandmother lives, and I keep telling her there are other kids there and their grandmothers are letting them swim. But Grandma doesn’t care. She said, “If other grandmothers were letting their grandchildren jump off the Brooklyn Bridge, I wouldn’t let you.” I think that is a pretty dumb thing to say. It’s not like I’m asking to do anything crazy like that! Besides, it’s so warm out that I’m practically sweating every time we walk outside. But my grandmother says that there’s a chill in the air and I should wear a sweater.

  Anyway, we’re leaving tomorrow so I’ll write you again when I’m back in freezing New York.

  Sincerely,

  Sophie

  It wasn’t until Sunday, our last day in Florida, that Grandma finally agreed it was warm enough to go in the pool. We went down to the club for Sunday brunch, and the big thermometer outside said it was eighty degrees. “Haley,” I called. “Haley, look!”

  “Does that mean it’s warm enough?” Haley asked. I looked over at Mom to make sure she wasn’t going to say no.

  “What do you say, Ma?” Mom said to Grandma. “I think it’s warm enough, don’t you?”

  “If it’s still eighty after we eat,” Grandma said.

  “All right,” I said.

  Haley ran ahead into the club and gave Grandma’s name to the host. “Right this way, Mrs. Woods,” the host said, which Haley thought was hysterical.

  “He doesn’t really think Haley’s name is Mrs. Woods,” I whispered to Mom.

  “I know,” Mom whispered back.

  We sat at a table by the window. I didn’t even need to look at the menu—after eating at the club for four days in a row, I knew exactly what I wanted: a grilled cheese sandwich with extra crispy french fries. So while Haley, Mom, and Grandma decided what they were going to eat, I looked around to see if anyone we knew was also at the club. I really wanted to make sure that none of Grandma’s cheek-pinching friends were there. Even though they had stuck to Haley’s cheeks on New Year’s Eve, I knew they might attack me, too, if they saw us. I looked to the left and saw we were all clear, and then I turned to the right.

  “Mom,” I said. “Look! Jackie and Vicki are here!” Jackie and Vicki were girls we always saw when we were in Florida for spring break, but I hadn’t known that they came to Florida for New Year’s, too. Jackie was one year younger than me, and Vicki was one year older. Vicki’s real name was Victoria, and secretly I called her Tori, for Tori Amos, since Tori can be a nickname for Victoria too. But out loud I called her Vicki, like everyone else did.

  Jackie and Vicki’s grandparents also lived in Highland Park, but the girls lived in Illinois, so we never saw them during the year. Every time we were in Florida, we saw one another every day. It was fun to be friends with people who didn’t really know anything about our real life. They had met Jessie because she had sometimes come to Florida with us, but they knew me better, and they didn’t know anything bad about me. I could pretend that I was the most popular girl in school.

  “Where are they?” Haley asked.

  “There,” I pointed. They were wearing bathing suits, which is something Grandma never let Haley and me do in the club. She thought we always should be dressed for lunch. Jackie and Vicki had pulled their hair back into ponytails. The tips of their ponytails were wet from the pool. I told Mom what I wanted to order, and then I ran over to them. We made plans to meet at the pool after lunch. I could hardly wait for everyone to finish eating. Mom and Grandma took so long to eat their sandwiches, but finally everyone was done. Grandma signed for our meal and Haley and I ran home and quickly changed into our bathing suit
s.

  “Come on,” I called to Mom. “We’re ready to go.” I’m a pretty good swimmer and I don’t really need Mom to watch me, but there’s a rule at the Highland Park pool that kids under sixteen are not allowed to be there alone.

  “I’m almost ready,” Mom said.

  Haley and I went to wait on the porch. I looked across the street toward the club. I couldn’t see the pool, though, because the clubhouse itself was right in front of it. I was sure Jackie and Vicki were already in the pool, and each second that I waited for Mom seemed to last even longer than usual. Finally Mom came out onto the porch. Grandma stood by the screen door. “Don’t forget to wear sunblock, girls,” she said.

  “They know, Ma,” Mom said.

  “I mean you too, Andrea,” Grandma said. “The last thing you need is skin cancer.”

  “You’re going to get cancer?” Haley said.

  “No, of course not,” Mom said. She turned to Grandma. “I can take care of myself,” she said. “We’ll be back in a couple hours.”

  We got to the pool and dumped all our stuff on one of the lounge chairs. Mom never swam with us and she spread a towel out so she could lie down and get tan. She said she didn’t like swimming because she didn’t like to get her hair wet, but Dad once told me that Mom was afraid of the water because she fell off a boat when she was young. If that had happened to me, I know Mom would have told me to get back into the water. But she never made herself do things she didn’t want to. She turned her chair toward the pool so she could watch us.

  “Are you sure you won’t come in?” Haley asked her.

  “Maybe I’ll come in later,” Mom said. I knew that meant no, but Haley thought that meant Mom might really come into the pool. I shaded my eyes with my hand and spotted Jackie and Vicki over by the deep end. “Jackie! Vicki!” I yelled. They looked up and waved.