The Last House on Sycamore Street

by Paige Roberts

  “I just think,” Rob said, after a long pause, “that Noah might really benefit from the companionship, not to mention the responsibility.”

  “He’s four. How much responsibility do you actually expect him to take on?”

  “You can build it up over time. And like I said, I don’t mean right now. I mean when he’s like eight or ten or something.”

  Amy sighed and put down her book, which she didn’t want to do because she had gotten to a really good part. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But do not, under any circumstances, say anything to Noah. I haven’t said yes, and even if I do, I’d mean in four or five years, and Noah cannot abstract like that.”

  “Fair enough. Thank you.” He leaned over and kissed her temple.

  “So now that I’m out of the flow of my story . . . I wanted to ask at dinner, but then with Noah there and his fixation on the Durants’ demise . . . what exactly did you and Julian talk about on the phone?”

  “Just that he’d heard back from the guy in charge of sponsorships for MediaCom, and the deal was a go. I think they still need to work out some of the contract language, but everything is moving forward. They’re giving like ten grand or something.”

  “Ten grand? Wow.”

  “Meh. I mean it sounds like a lot, but for a company like MediaCom it’s nothing, and to put on a big event like Julian is doing, it’s probably a drop in the bucket. He mentioned he has other sponsors and funders lined up, too, although MediaCom will be the only named one.”

  “I wonder if they’ll comp us tickets for helping out. . . .”

  Rob gave her major side eye. “Amy. This is a benefit to help poor people. I think we can manage a couple hundred dollars in tickets.”

  “You’re right, you’re right. Sorry.” She immediately felt awful. She hadn’t meant . . . well, she supposed she had meant what she said, but for a minute she’d forgotten what the entire event was about. It was hard for her to see Julian in any context other than “Ethan’s dad” or “recovering addict.” She had to remind herself that he was a smart, successful director of a nonprofit that tried to get healthy food into poor neighborhoods. He was those other things, too, but they were secondary, at least when it came to this event.

  “Anyway, if everything is moving forward, I can start getting serious with Jess about making plans. Gosh it would be great to see her.”

  Rob reached out and squeezed Amy’s hand. “You really miss her, huh?”

  “It’s just hard to make friends like that as you get older, you know?”

  Rob nodded. “But it happens. You’re feeling more settled here, right? You’ve got Grace, and Emily . . .”

  “I do. And they’re great. But with Emily, it’s still that early superficial sort of friendship where you can talk for thirty minutes and still not reveal anything about yourself. And Grace . . . I don’t know. She’s complicated. Every time I think I get her, I find out something else that alters the picture.”

  “Isn’t that the case with most people? I guess some are open books, but most human beings are complex. The interesting ones, anyway. We only get more so as we get older.”

  “I know, but I feel guarded around Grace—like I’m afraid to ask too many questions because of what I might find out. I mean, what was that with Noah before dinner?”

  “Asking what would happen if Ethan’s parents went away?”

  “Yeah. That was weird, right? Suddenly I’m thinking, ‘Are Grace and Julian planning to make a run for it? Have they done something bad? Is Grace on drugs, too?’”

  “Amy, that’s crazy.”

  “I know. But how can I get close to someone when I’m constantly questioning her motives?”

  “You can’t blame her for your overactive imagination—one you seemed to have passed on to our son, by the way.”

  She knew he was right. Grace had actually been fairly open with her—about Julian, about her relationship with her mom, about motherhood. But she’d always had the strong sense that beneath the surface, Grace’s story was even more complicated, and what she couldn’t tell was how much of that was imagined and how much was real.

  Chapter 13

  The rest of the summer flew by, and before Amy knew it, she was packing Noah’s lunch for his first day at Beth Israel. He started the day after Labor Day, and for the first time, the two of them were equally excited for the school year to begin.

  In past years, the start of school ushered in a wave of anxiety on everyone’s part. Noah would start complaining about tummy aches, and Amy would fret about him fitting in, and for a good month or so, getting to Bright Futures Academy on time was a painful struggle. The angst didn’t only happen at the beginning of the school year either. Anytime there was an extended vacation—winter break, spring break, a week of illness—the process started all over again. Amy was never sure who hated it more: her or Noah.

  But this year was completely different. Noah already had two close friends in his class, and he probably knew more, since there was apparently a big overlap between Beth Israel and Green Hills Day Camp. And more than that, Noah was happy. He’d bounded into the meet-and-greet the week before and introduced himself to his teacher, Miss Karen, with a smile that took up his entire face.

  “Ethan and Jake are coming, too!” he’d informed her, so giddy he nearly knocked over the can of paintbrushes.

  Ever since, he had been talking about his new school to anyone who would listen: her, Rob, random people at the grocery store. Amy adored his enthusiasm and only hoped the preschool could live up to his expectations. She’d only signed him up for three days a week, with the understanding that she could always bump him up to four or five days later, if the budget allowed for it.

  “Noah!” Amy called up the stairs. “You ready?”

  She had lain out his clothes the night before, and he had insisted that he wanted to get dressed and brush his teeth without assistance. As excited as he was, she knew he was also a little nervous, and the ritual of getting dressed probably calmed him down.

  He appeared at the top of the stairs, his arms lifted to the sky. “Ready,” he said.

  She knew she was heavily biased, but she thought he was the cutest four-year-old she’d ever seen. He was wearing the green plaid shorts and gray polo shirt they’d picked out together, and his strawberry-blond tresses were combed neatly to the side. He’d obviously wet and brushed them and seemed pretty pleased with himself.

  “You are the handsomest boy I’ve ever seen,” she said as he marched down the stairs.

  “Handsomer than Daddy?”

  “Hmm, I’d say you’re tied. Frankly, with your hair like that, you look an awful lot like Daddy. Only about thirty years younger.”

  “Thirty-two,” Noah corrected her.

  “Right. Thirty-two.” Sometimes she forgot what a stickler her son was when it came to numbers.

  Amy ushered Noah into the kitchen, where a piece of buttered toast and a glass of milk were waiting for him. He scarfed down the toast before Amy even finished packing his backpack, and the next thing she knew, they were in the car, heading to school.

  The drive was short, and they didn’t talk much. Amy had to bite her tongue to keep from making conversation, but she knew her son, and he needed this time to process. She could almost see the wheels turning as she glanced in the rearview mirror. He stared out of the window, watching the houses and trees go by.

  When they got to school, Amy held Noah’s hand as they walked from the parking lot to the entrance. His soft hand held hers tight, and she took a deep breath and tried to savor the moment. She knew someday he wouldn’t want to hold her hand in public, and sometime after that, he wouldn’t need to anymore. She tried not to be overly sentimental about moments like this, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “Good morning, Noah!” Miss Ruth crowed as they entered the school. Miss Ruth was the director of Beth Israel’s preschool and so far had lived up to all the kind things Grace had said about her. She was enthusiastic, warm, and, mo
st of all, present. From what Amy had heard, she greeted the kids at the door every morning, checked on each class all day, and stayed until the last child went home. She also regularly wandered the hall with her guitar, which was strapped to her at this very moment.

  “Good morning,” Noah said, a little shyly.

  “Are you ready for your big first day?”

  He nodded without saying anything. Amy suddenly felt a little anxious. Was this day not going to go as smoothly as she’d hoped?

  “Miss Karen is very excited to see you. She’s waiting in room four with your friends.”

  Noah brightened. “Ethan and Jake are here?”

  “I haven’t seen Jake yet, but Ethan just arrived a minute ago.”

  Before Amy or Ruth could say anything else, Noah took off for room four. Amy put his backpack in his cubby, and by the time she entered the classroom, Noah had already found Ethan, and the two were building some sort of tower.

  “Well, that didn’t take long.”

  Amy whirled around and saw Grace standing behind her, smiling.

  “So much for a transition period, right?”

  Amy laughed. “I didn’t even get to walk him into the class. As soon as he heard Ethan was here, he raced in without me.”

  “Good for him. Look at him. Fits right in.”

  Amy could hardly believe it, but Grace was right. Noah was acting like he’d gone to Beth Israel for years. She’d definitely made the right choice in sending him here. She was also very glad she’d savored the feeling of his hand in hers because at this rate, he’d be dissing her by next week.

  “Have you ladies signed your boys in?”

  Miss Karen appeared next to them and extended a clipboard. Both Grace and Amy initialed the appropriate boxes.

  “Here is the information about pizza day, which begins tomorrow. It’s every Wednesday, $160 for the year. If you’re interested, you can send this form in with them tomorrow with a check.”

  Amy took the form. “Noah loves pizza. . . .”

  “It’s the most popular day of the week. Everyone loves pizza day.”

  Amy slid the paper in her purse and crept toward Noah. “Bye, sweetie. Have a good day.”

  He came and gave her a quick hug and then scampered back to Ethan. Amy took the opportunity to slide out of the classroom without too much of a scene.

  “That was easy,” Grace said, as she came up beside her. “Usually the first day is a little tearful, even for the stalwarts. But our boys barely noticed we were there.”

  “That’s a good thing, right?”

  “That’s what I’m telling myself, anyway.”

  “So do you guys sign up for pizza day? What’s the deal with that?”

  “We usually do. We did last year. Ethan loves it. But I don’t know about this year . . . We’re trying to cut some corners, given everything that’s going on. I mean, a hundred and sixty bucks isn’t going to keep us from buying a house, but Julian has been pretty adamant about keeping costs down. I could ask my parents, but I’m sick of going to them for things and don’t want to do it anymore. Ethan won’t like it, but he’ll survive.”

  “Do most people sign up?”

  “Pretty much everybody, yeah.”

  “Well, I could just pack lunch for Noah so that Ethan isn’t the odd man out.”

  “Are you kidding? I mean, that’s incredibly sweet, but don’t make your kid suffer on our account. It’s fine—give the kid some pizza! Ethan will just have to deal.”

  Amy thought about it. A hundred and sixty bucks wasn’t that much. Three hundred and twenty was more, but if she could spread it over the year, like every month or so.... Rob might not go for it, but then Rob wouldn’t understand. Amy knew what it was like to be left out of the fun because she couldn’t afford it. She hadn’t had the experience at Ethan’s age—in Woonsocket, all of her classmates were generally in the same working class boat—but she had in college. At Georgetown, it seemed as if money really did grow on trees, and Amy had somehow missed out on the harvest. More than once, Amy had to turn down a social invitation—which killed her, given her history—because she didn’t have the money to spend at an M Street tapas joint or cocktail lounge. Ethan was too young to understand about income and expenses, but he wasn’t too young to feel left out. Why not do something about that if she could? He was Noah’s best friend. Noah would buy him the pizza himself if he could.

  “You know what—I forgot, I have to talk to Ruth about something,” Amy said as they were halfway to the parking lot.

  “Oh—okay. No prob. I’ll see you at pickup, I guess. Is Noah staying until three?”

  “Yep. See you then!”

  Then she turned around and headed for Ruth’s office so that she could figure out a way to pay for Ethan’s pizza.

  * * *

  Amy worked out a deal with Ruth where instead of paying $160 for Ethan up front, she would pay in eight installments of $20, which meant Rob would be less likely to ask about it. She didn’t want to keep it a secret from Rob, but she could already see the eye roll and hear his objections. He wouldn’t care about the money per se; he would care that they were further entangling their lives with the Durants. But Amy had taken a shine to Ethan, and it just seemed so unfair for him to be the only kid in the class who couldn’t have pizza.

  The question now was how to break the news to Grace. She could keep it a secret and just have Ruth say there’d been an over-subscription, so there was plenty for Ethan. But Grace could always say no thank you and send a packed lunch in with Ethan anyway. Or she could tell Grace some vague version of the truth (“I worked out a deal with Ruth so that Ethan could have pizza, too.”), but Grace might be annoyed with Amy for meddling. There was no right answer.

  In the end, Amy decided to go with some variation of the latter option. Flat-out lying to Grace would only end in disaster, and there was really no upside for either of them. So when she arrived at pickup at three, she called out to Grace as soon as she spotted her walking into the building.

  “Oh, hey,” Grace said. She sounded a little harried. “Sorry, I didn’t even see you.”

  They walked toward the entrance together, and Amy tried to find a good opportunity to pipe up about the pizza. She didn’t want to say anything once they were inside, and she certainly didn’t want to say anything in front of the kids.

  “So . . . funny story.” Was it funny? Not really. Not remotely, actually. But it was the sort of stock phrase people led with before getting into uncomfortable territory. “I was in Ruth’s office today, getting more details about the pizza program, and I asked if I threw in a few extra bucks if that would cover pizza for the whole class. She said it probably would, so I went ahead and wrote her a check. So Ethan can have pizza after all!”

  Grace slowed her step. “You’re paying for Ethan’s pizza?”

  “No. I mean, sort of. Just . . . you know, extra pizza for the class so that no one feels left out.” It wasn’t the real story, but Amy was quickly realizing the real story would not go over well.

  Grace furrowed her brow. “If all they needed was a few extra bucks, then why are they charging all of us $160?”

  “I . . . think that’s probably for overhead and stuff. I’m sure it’s a scale issue.”

  “Huh. Well, thanks, I guess. Ethan will be thrilled.”

  “Don’t mention it. I know what it’s like to be on a tight budget. That pretty much describes every year we lived in DC.”

  “It’s sort of a first for me, to be honest. We’ve always had a budget, like most people, but we never really had to worry about the occasional hundred bucks. This is definitely . . . different.”

  “Well, if you ever need anything else—money for a class trip or a class dinner or something—just let me know.”

  She stopped in front of the school entrance. “We’re not poor,” she said.

  “I never said . . . I didn’t mean it like that. All I was saying was that if you need help from a friend—”

&nb
sp; “Got it,” she said, then opened the door and walked inside.

  * * *

  “And THEN, after lunch we found a ladybug, and Miss Karen put her in a special house, and we all got to look at her with a special glass.”

  “A magnifying glass?”

  “Uh-huh. We could see EVERYTHING.”

  Noah had been talking nonstop ever since Amy had picked him up. At first she had welcomed the runaway chatter because it distracted from the palpable frostiness emanating from Grace in waves. But now her ears were going numb. She could barely keep up.

  “And Miss Karen has so many math games—like seven thousand of them.”

  “Seven thousand sounds like an awful lot.”

  “Maybe just fourteen. I can’t remember. But it’s a LOT.”

  “Sounds right up your alley.”

  Had covering Ethan’s pizza bill been a huge mistake? It had seemed like such a good idea at the time—a gesture born out of kindness, not pity. But now she wished she’d just minded her own business. She barely had any friends here. The last thing she needed was to alienate her closest one.

  Amy pulled in their driveway and got Noah out of his car seat. On the way inside, she checked the mail. There were three bills for Julian, all with the words “PAST DUE” in bold red lettering. The notices had started slowing to one or two a week, but in the last week or so, the volume had picked up again, and now Amy was finding letters for him nearly every day.