Little Sister

by MacDonald, Patricia

  “Poor Andrew,” Francie murmured.

  Beth felt a queasy sensation in her stomach as she watched her sister’s shoulders start to shake. “That’s too bad.”

  “He must feel so awful,” Francie said in a teary voice.

  Beth thought of her encounter with Leonora Vincent and wondered how bad Andrew really would feel. Then she chastised herself for the uncharitable thought.

  “It’s such a horrible way to die.” Francie groaned, clutching the paper to her narrow chest. Beth recalled their mother’s death—the lonely car wreck out on the highway and a terrified child sitting helplessly by. Gently but firmly she pried the paper from Francie’s grasp and put it aside.

  “Come on now,” she said. “Don’t get yourself all worked up. You’ve been through too much yourself lately. This is bound to hit you very hard. Come on.” Awkwardly she stroked Francie’s arm.

  Francie took a few deep breaths, but she continued to stare down at the crumpled paper. “Maybe I should call him up,” she whispered.

  “Well, maybe.” But Beth felt her stomach knot up at the suggestion. She scolded herself silently for her reaction. Don’t be a monster. The boy’s mother is dead. Have a little pity, however much you dislike him. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to call him,” she added.

  Francie shook her head, her eyes sad and faraway. “And I just wrote him that letter too. On top of this. It isn’t fair.”

  “Well, you had no way of knowing this would happen.”

  Francie started to sob. “I know. But now he’s all alone. Just when the worst thing in the world happens to him.”

  Beth pressed her lips together and continued to pat her sister’s arm. It made her ashamed to see Francie’s obvious grief and to realize what it must have cost the girl to maintain her stoic front at their father’s death. She had not even questioned it. She had just accepted Francie’s impassive exterior and never bothered to look beneath it. Now as Francie keened for poor Andrew, alone in the worst of situations, it was so clear that the girl was describing herself as well. “I know,” Beth murmured. “I know.”

  “He probably got the letter today. Oh, God.”

  “The timing is pretty bad,” said Beth. “But you didn’t do it on purpose. It just turned out that way.”

  “I can’t just turn my back on him when this happens.”

  Beth felt the queasiness in her stomach again. “Well, I thought you had decided. I mean, you’re going to be leaving town.”

  “I know,” said Francie.

  “So I don’t see how you can get back with Andrew now.”

  “I don’t want to get back with him. It’s just that I feel guilty. Like I should try to be a friend to him now, you know?”

  Beth nodded. “Sure.” They were silent for a moment. “But I’m just saying that you don’t want to lead him on or give him any false hope. If you’ve really made up your mind to leave, that is.”

  Francie wiped her eyes and sat up straighter. “No, I’m leaving all right. I want to go. But maybe—well, that letter was pretty mean. Maybe we can part friends. I think I should at least try to be friends, after hearing about this.” She pointed to the newspaper.

  Beth nodded, although she felt like protesting. She knew that Andrew would see that Francie was vulnerable and would do everything he could to convince her to stay with him. It hit her, in that instant, that she did not want Francie to change her mind. She wanted the girl to come live with her. It was as if all the doubts she had had vanished once the commitment had been made. She watched worriedly as Francie got up and dialed the phone.

  Francie let the phone ring about ten times, but there was no answer. “He’s not there,” she said.

  “Oh,” said Beth, feeling a temporary relief. “Well, you can try him later.”

  “Maybe he’s over at the garage with Noah.”

  “I thought you said they had a falling-out.”

  “They always have fights. They make up, though.”

  “He could be anywhere.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.” Francie sat dejectedly at the table for a minute.

  Then she stood up. “Well, I have to go over to school anyway, so maybe I’ll do that and then stop at the garage on my way back.”

  Beth looked at the clock. “It’s kind of late. Do you want a ride over there?”

  “No, they have after-school activities until six or so. I’ll be able to get in. And I might see a couple of people I want to say good-bye to.” Francie zippered up her jacket and started for the door. “I want to show off my coat,” she said, a strained smile on her face.

  Beth waved her off and sat at the table, contemplating the crumpled newspaper. There was no point in worrying about it. In a few days they’d be gone. Andrew would just have to accept that. She tossed the paper into the trash and resumed making her phone calls. She talked for a long while to Cindy, who greeted the news with delight and approval and promised to facilitate the transfer for Francie. Then she called her aunt and uncle, who had more mixed feelings.

  “We really wanted her to be with us,” said Aunt May.

  “I know you did.”

  “But you’re sisters. You should be together.”

  Beth smiled. “I guess so.”

  “I think your father would be very pleased.”

  Beth frowned at the phone but didn’t reply.

  “You heard about Andrew’s mother?” her aunt added in a whisper.

  “We saw it in the paper,” said Beth.

  “He’ll really run wild now,” said May. “He was here to see James and acted very peculiar about the whole thing.”

  “Well, it’s a shame,” said Beth in a noncommittal tone.

  “That’s the one thing I’m glad about,” said May, “is that Francie will be getting away from that Andrew.”

  “I think it’s for the best.”

  “Will you come see us before you leave?”

  “Tomorrow,” said Beth. “I have a carload of stuff to drop off for the church.”

  “Good,” said May. “I’ll see you then. Bye, dear.”

  “Bye,” said Beth. She hung up and looked down at her list. She still had to clean the bathroom linen closet and the medicine chest, and the house would be done. “Might as well do that now,” she said aloud. As she started up the stairs, she thought about what her aunt had said about Andrew. He had acted peculiar about the whole thing. /’// bet he did, she thought. This is a peculiar young man. And no wonder. With that mother.

  Beth grabbed a box from a pile still in the hallway and opened the door to the linen closet. The shelves were piled with towels, washcloths, and sheets, the nub faded on the terry cloth and the sheets soft and threadbare from repeated washing. Beth had the urge to throw the whole lot out, but she knew they were still useful. Uncle James, scavenger for the needy, would delight in them. There was a shelf full of soaps, creams, and various cough and muscle ache remedies that she put into another small box for the church.

  She packed until her back ached, but finally she had the shelves cleaned out. Looking outside, she saw that the sky was dark and a round moon was up. She figured that it was after six, and she wished that Francie would get back. Almost as soon as she thought that, she heard a soft thudding sound from downstairs.

  “Francie?” she called out.

  There was no answer. She went to the top of the stairs and looked down the stairwell. The dim hall light and the faint light from the kitchen were the only lights visible in the dark house. “Francie?” she called again.

  The house was silent. Wishful thinking, she thought. She returned to the bathroom and decided to begin on the medicine chest. She opened the mirrored door and looked inside. On the top shelf there were a number of orange plastic bottles, most of them expired prescriptions, some of them with her mother’s name on them. With a sigh she tossed them into the trash. There were medications for angina and high blood pressure for her father, and she felt a little guilty looking at them. She hadn’t even known he had a heart co
ndition. She tossed the rest of them into the trash, along with shavers and shaving cream. She saved only some nail clippers and aspirin that she found there.

  Picking up a sponge by the sink, she wiped off the empty shelves. Then she ran water over the sponge and squeezed it out. That’s done, she thought. With a sigh she closed the door of the medicine chest and glanced up into the mirror.

  A pair of glittering red-rimmed eyes bored into hers in the mirror.

  Beth shrieked and whirled around, clutching the sink.

  Andrew blocked the door of the narrow bathroom, staring at her.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Beth demanded, her heart hammering wildly, despite her belligerent tone. “You scared me.”

  Andrew’s face did not register her question. “Where is Francie?” he said.

  Beth stared at him, still gripping the sink for support. He was gaunt and disheveled, as if he had been wandering for days without shelter. His eyes burned in his head but were strangely lifeless. He took a step closer to her, and Beth stifled a yelp. “She’s not here,” she said quickly. “She’s out.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. She was looking for you, as a matter of fact.”

  Beth felt as if his presence were sucking the air out of the narrow bathroom, making it hard for her to breathe. She wanted to get out, but he was planted in the doorway, and she was wary of antagonizing him. An aura of instability shimmered around him, like some volatile chemical that might explode if you jostled it.

  “Where did she go to look for me?”

  “I’m not sure,” Beth said cautiously. “Noah’s, I guess. She read about your mother in the paper. That was a terrible thing.” Beth edged toward the door. “Excuse me,” she said politely.

  “She’s sorry,” Andrew said.

  “We’re both sorry about your mother,” said Beth. She was right beside him now. He smelled of soap, mixed with something foul and decaying. “I need to get by,” she said.

  “About the letter,” said Andrew. “She’s sorry about the letter.”

  His tone demanded that she confirm what he said. Beth tried not to inhale the smell from him, which seemed to surround her. “That may be, Andrew. I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Francie about that.” She pressed herself against the doorframe and slipped by him, her body brushing his as she passed. He turned on her but did not stop her. She hurried to the stairs and started down. He followed behind her, practically stepping on the backs of her shoes.

  “She said that she wanted to break up with me in the letter, that she didn’t want to see me anymore.”

  Beth could hear his voice rise and feel him bear down on her. She tried to keep her own voice calm, although her stomach was in a knot. “I don’t know what she said in the letter, Andrew. She didn’t tell me.”

  “She said that it was over with us and that she didn’t want to see me anymore.”

  Beth hurried down the hallway toward the light of the kitchen. But before she could reach the doorway, Andrew barred her way.

  “I’m sure that’s very hard on you,” Beth said softly, “but if that’s what she wants—”

  “You knew what was in the letter because you made her say it,” he shouted.

  Beth stared at him with wide eyes. His face had turned a mottled purplish red, and the cords on his neck stood out as he yelled at her. He was baring his teeth like an animal.

  Uh-oh, she thought. Okay. I get it. I’m to blame. That’s what’s going on here. She took a step back but kept her eyes glued to his face. Be very careful what you say to him. This guy is a little out of control here. She swallowed hard and licked her lips. “I’m telling you the truth, Andrew. I didn’t know anything about it.”

  “You lying bitch,” he snarled. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

  Beth was about to protest, but she stopped herself. There was no point in arguing with him. It would just antagonize him. God, they were right about him. Cindy and her father. Everyone. He really is crazy, she thought. She had to get him out of here somehow, but she couldn’t think how. She looked nervously into the kitchen.

  “What are you looking at?” he demanded. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

  “I was just looking at the, uh, phone,” said Beth. “I was thinking I could have Francie call you when she gets back and you can talk with her and straighten this thing out.”

  “I’m waiting right here,” he said. “You won’t even tell her I was here.”

  “It’s just that—well, you might have to wait a long time. I don’t know when she’ll be back. You could call her yourself, if you don’t—if you want to be sure she gets the message.”

  Andrew put his face close to hers. “This is your favorite game, isn’t it?” he said in a low voice.

  Beth’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

  “Telling everybody what to do. You call the shots.”

  “It’s just an idea, Andrew. Why should you wait around here when you could be—”

  At that moment the kitchen door opened, and Francie came in, lugging a bag filled with notebooks, her gym suit, a box of candy, and some books. “I got everything,” she said, kicking off her boots. “Beth, I saw Mrs. McNeill, but she said you already called her.”

  “I did,” said Beth, trying to sound composed. “You’ve got a visitor.”

  “I do?” Francie’s pale cheeks were reddened from the cold, and her glasses were steamed up. She took them off and wiped the lenses and then put them back on and looked at the darkened doorway.

  Andrew sneered at Beth and then dropped the arm that barred the doorway. He took a step toward Francie. “Hey, babe.”

  “Hi,” said Francie. She avoided his outstretched arm. “I was looking for you. I heard about your mom. That was terrible. You must feel awful.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said, cocking his head toward the door.

  “I can’t,” said Francie. “I’ve got to put this stuff away.”

  Beth watched Andrew from behind, uncertain what to do. He seemed less agitated now that Francie was here, but it reminded her of the sickly stillness of the sky before a tornado.

  “I ripped up the letter,” he said.

  Francie grimaced. “I feel bad about that.”

  “I know you didn’t mean it. Don’t worry. I threw it out.”

  Francie opened her mouth to protest, but Beth said quickly, “Andrew is very upset about the letter,” in a warning voice. Francie looked at her with a perplexed expression on her face.

  “Who asked you?” Andrew demanded, turning on Beth.

  Beth shook her head and looked down.

  “Come on,” he yelled at Francie. “Let’s go.”

  “No, Andrew, I can’t,” said Francie. “I have a lot to do. I have to get ready to—to go,” she concluded softly.

  Andrew’s eyes narrowed. “To go where?” he asked.

  Francie sighed and made a face. “Look, there’s something I have to tell you. I know you’re going to be mad, but—”

  “What are you talking about? Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m going to Philadelphia. To live with my sister,” Francie whispered.

  Beth steeled herself as if for an explosion. He was looking at Francie incredulously, as if the information were taking a long time to register. But then, instead of the eruption she anticipated, Beth saw a calm, sly smile spread over his face.

  He gave a short laugh. “Oh, don’t worry, babe. You don’t have to listen to her. She can’t make you do anything.”

  “Andrew, she’s not. Listen—”

  “Look,” he said, “I have fixed everything for us. I know you’re mad ’cause I didn’t pick you up when I said. But there was something important I had to do. It was for us, believe me. That’s why I didn’t come get you the other night. But everything’s perfect now. I’m not going to tell you about it in front of her.” He gave a curt nod in Beth’s direction. “But we are free now. We can be t
ogether now, just like we planned. No problem. Don’t be afraid of her. She can’t make you go with her. You’ve got me here to protect you now.”

  “She’s not making me go, Andrew,” Francie wailed. “Really. I want to get away from here. I don’t want to live with my aunt and uncle. And I like it in Philadelphia. But it doesn’t mean I’ll never see you. You could come down and visit me there.”

  Andrew looked wildly from one sister to another, and then the sly look returned to his eyes. “She’s making you say these things.”

  “No, she isn’t,” Francie insisted. “She asked me to come there to stay, and I said I would.”

  “Do you want me to go in another room?” Beth asked Francie. “Maybe if I’m not here—”

  Andrew turned on Beth. “Shut up,” he screamed. “You can’t tell her what to do. Don’t give me this crap. ‘I’ll go in another room.’” He mimicked her. “You can hear through the walls.” He turned back to Francie. “She’s forcing you. It doesn’t matter what you want. Not to her. Oh, no.” He shook his head at Francie. “I understand,” he said. “Believe me. I know what’s happening.” He shook his head slowly, staring at Francie. Then he turned on Beth. “You cunt.” He spit the word at her.

  Francie gasped.

  “All right,” said Beth. “That’s enough. You get out of here.” She pointed toward the door, hoping he could not see her hand shaking.

  Andrew’s eyes blazed at her, and for a moment she thought he was going to come at her. Beth glared at him. “I mean it,” she said. “Get out of here, or so help me, I’ll call the police.”

  Andrew gazed at her for a moment as if appraising her threat. Then a mirthless smile sliced his face. “I know what you’re up to,” he said. “You can’t put this over on me. I know every trick there is. Every one of them has already been done to me. I know how you can make people say what they don’t mean to say, no matter what they want. You can make them do it. But you won’t get away with it, this time. Oh, no.”

  “I told you to go,” said Beth. She could not conceal the tremor in her voice. He had hunched over into a kind of crouch, as if he were going to spring at her.