“But—”
“Drop it, Carly.”
It made something burn in Carly’s stomach and behind her eyes. Teddy almost never snapped at her.
She decided to talk over it.
“You think Mom would let me go up to a cabin on a lake, up in the Sierras, with some friends from school? There’ll be parents there.”
“Boy-type friends?”
“Both. Besides, what difference does it make? There’ll be parents there.”
“And what difference does it make if I think she will or not? How does my opinion on the matter help you with her?”
“You could put in a good word for me.”
He glanced halfway over his shoulder at her, then back at the road.
“Carly…you’re a smart girl. You can’t possibly think I can make your mom do anything she doesn’t want to do. If I could, we wouldn’t be eating spaghetti and meatballs without her tonight.”
And that shut down the conversation. And it stayed shut. All the way home.
Carly sat in front of a steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs. There were flowers on the table, clusters of little miniature pink roses and a spray of fuchsia, both from their front yard. And two long white candles in their late grand-mother’s antique silver candle-holders. It struck Carly as almost unbearably sad.
Jen plunked down hard into her chair and grabbed up her fork. Without even waiting for Teddy, who was serving up his own dinner at the stove.
“I am so starved,” Jen said.
Then she stuffed her mouth with the equivalent of about three bites’ worth.
“Well, don’t wait for me,” Teddy said. “Just dig right in.”
The sarcasm sailed well over Jen’s head. She just nodded, her mouth too full to answer.
When she’d managed to swallow, Jen said, “This is better than pizza, Teddy. I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about pizza.”
Carly watched Teddy’s reaction, the look on his face, nursing an unpleasant and uncomfortable feeling that she had never made Teddy as happy as Jen just had.
She wound spaghetti around her fork and took a bite.
“You’re a good cook, Teddy,” she said, her mouth still full.
Teddy smiled as he sat down. But it still couldn’t hold a candle to what Jen had said. Nothing Carly said ever did.
Carly opened her mouth to say, I can’t believe Mom didn’t come home for this. She actually almost said that. But she stopped herself just in time. The last thing she wanted was for Teddy to snap at her again.
They ate in silence for what seemed like a long time.
Then Teddy said, “I’d be willing to tell her I met the boy and he seems like a good kid. Even though it’s a slight exaggeration.”
Carly looked up at him, but his eyes remained trained on his plate.
“You’re the best, Teddy,” she said. And she had never meant it more sincerely.
“I’m not even in the top forty percent,” he said.
They finished dinner in silence, Carly’s eyes fastened to the flowers and the candles. An idea formed, almost without Carly needing to think it through. It just sort of bypassed her brain and came together on its own.
By the time she set her fork down, it was fully formed. Definite. Done. There was no getting around it.
“I’m going for a walk,” Carly said, jumping to her feet.
Both Teddy and Jen looked up at her. A little strangely. Because Carly wasn’t the “I’m going for a walk” type. She waited for one of them to put their thoughts into words. They never did.
Carly grabbed a warm jacket on her way out the door.
It was fifteen blocks from their house to her mom’s work.
Only trouble was, she could walk there, but she couldn’t go in.
She paused under the neon sign. It was supposed to say Leopard Lounge. But the big L and the little g were burned out. So it read more like “eopard Loun e.”
Carly pressed her fingers to the glass of the front window, forgetting for the moment that her mom would yell at her for doing so. It was her mom who had to clean any stray fingerprints off the glass. In between serving drinks.
Her mom was not serving drinks.
She was sitting at a table with that guy. Wade, his name was.
Carly watched the way they leaned in close to each other. Not completely overt. They weren’t hugging and kissing. But there was an intensity about the exchange. Like a short, live wire connected their eyes and faces. Transmitting something impossible to ignore.
Desdemona, the other cocktail waitress, was on duty and serving drinks.
Desdemona looked up and waved at Carly through the window. Carly quickly took her fingertips off the glass.
She stuck her hands in her pockets and waited while Desdemona tapped her mother on the shoulder, breaking the transmission between her and Wade. Carly’s mom spun around to see Carly standing at the window.
She did not look pleased.
Carly reflexively took two steps back as her mom stormed toward the door. She looked back in at Wade, whose face looked dark. Wade had a darkness to him, an edge. Like all the guys her mom went for. Except, of course, Teddy. Sweet, sweet Teddy.
Carly’s mom burst out into the cool valley night, wearing only a strappy, low-cut sleeveless top.
“Want to tell me what you’re doing here?”
She was tall, which could have been part of why Carly found her intimidating. But there was more. If indeed height factored in at all. Her hair was a different color every month. Right now it was a sort of mahogany. Nothing quite like the color of hair a woman might actually grow on her own. Her eyelashes were long and thick, clumping with mascara. She wore a lot of makeup. Too much, Carly thought, but she knew better than to say so out loud.
“Thought you had to work late,” Carly said.
It was brave. And she knew it. But it was something Teddy couldn’t say. Or anyway, didn’t feel he could. So Carly was going to do it for him.
Carly’s mom rocked her head back a little. A defiant gesture. She crossed her arms across her impressive chest.
“I’m here,” she said.
“But you’re not working. Desdemona’s working.”
“We’re both working.”
“But you never both work at the same time. Besides. You’re not working. You’re just sitting there. Flirting with that guy I hate so much.”
Carly’s mom’s hand came up, and Carly flinched and pulled back, expecting a slap. Instead, a long fingernail just pointed at her. Close to her nose.
“You’re on thin ice with me, young lady. I’d move along if I were you.”
But Carly couldn’t stop. She could use more caution, but she couldn’t leave things where they were. It was too late for that.
“It’s your anniversary.”
“Of what? I’m not married.”
“It was two years ago today that Teddy moved in with us. Did you know that?”
“That’s not really an anniversary.”
“It is to him. Did you know that?”
“I’ll be home when I can.”
“He made your favorite dinner. Spaghetti and meatballs with extra Parmesan. And he picked flowers for the table. And he put white candles in Grandma’s silver holders. And then you called and said you had to work. And you’re not even working.”
“I’m on a break.”
If she felt anywhere near as guilty as Carly meant her to, she hid it well.
“Maybe Desdemona would cover for you.”
“Thin ice, Carly. You got your nose where only my nose is supposed to be. Now you get on home. And don’t ever come back here again when I’m working. Not ever. I don’t need a spy in the family. And don’t say a word to Ted, or you’ll have me to answer to.”
Carly just stood a moment, feeling slightly dizzy. Probably a fear reaction brought on by what she was about to do. She was about to say something brave. Something that might get her hit. Or grounded. Or some worse punishment, some torment
she didn’t even know existed.
Before she could, her mom spun on one high heel and stamped back into the club. Carly watched as she sat down with Wade. She seemed able to pick up right where they’d left off.
Carly had no idea how she could do that. Or why she’d want to.
She walked home, surprised by how much longer each block seemed now.
When Carly let herself into the living room, Teddy and Jen were sitting on the couch together, watching an old black-and-white movie about a mummy. Except Jen wasn’t watching. She was fast asleep, tucked under the comfort of Teddy’s left arm.
It made Carly feel left out, in a deep place in her gut.
The feeling must have shown on her face because Teddy said, “I’ve got another one on this side.”
He lifted his right arm. Carly dove in and sat under it, feeling him wrap her up in warmth. She didn’t even bother to take off her jacket first.
“The Mummy?”
“Hey,” he said. “This is a classic.”
“Whatever you say.”
“Where’d you go?”
“I just wanted to take a walk.”
“No. Really. Where’d you go?”
“I walked, Teddy.”
She’d started to say, “I just walked.” But that wasn’t true. She did more than just walk. But she did walk. So she stuck with that.
“This have something to do with that boy?”
It relieved Carly to hear him guess wrong.
“I didn’t see him,” she said. Hoping he might think she’d tried.
“Better luck next time.”
They sat for a time. Watching the horrible film. How long a time, Carly wouldn’t have been able to say. Could have been five or ten minutes, or it could have been half an hour.
Then the front door opened, and Carly’s mom came through. Something came up and filled a big hole in Carly’s heart, from the inside. Maybe Carly really had made things better. Maybe it really was possible to advocate for what’s right. And get it.
The look on her mom’s face was hard to read.
She came and stood over them, hands on her hips.
“Don’t you three look comfy.”
“Because we are,” Teddy said. “I hope you’re hungry. I made your favorite dinner.”
Carly watched the look on her mom’s face change. Soften. And Carly didn’t think it was about spaghetti and meatballs with extra Parmesan, although that may have been a contributing factor. Carly realized then that her mom had been waiting to see whether Carly had ratted her out.
“You’re a sweetheart, Ted,” she said. “I’m starved.”
“Oh, good. I was worried maybe you ate at work.”
“Just nibbled on the French fries all night. But that didn’t get me much of anywhere. Carly. Wake up your sister, and you girls go upstairs to bed. If you’re not sleepy, you can tuck in and read. Me and my beau have some celebrating to do. Three’s a crowd.”
Teddy’s arm disappeared. So did Teddy.
Carly shook Jen awake, gently, and half held her on her feet all the way up the stairs.
Then she snuck back down and watched from the landing. Just for a minute. Watched through the open kitchen doorway as Teddy poured her mom a glass of red wine. Then he disappeared again. She heard that deep, throaty laugh that Teddy only used when her mom was around. Heard her mom say, “There’s no music, you big dope.” A minute later they waltzed past the doorway in each other’s arms, Teddy humming a tune.
Carly withdrew up the stairs. And slept. Well. For the first time in a long time.
TULARE
December 18
“Absolutely,” Carly’s mom said. “Absolutely you can.”
It didn’t feel right. It felt too easy.
They were sitting at the breakfast table. Just the two of them. Jen had ridden her bike to her friend Krista’s house, and Teddy wasn’t even up yet. Carly’s mom held on to her coffee cup as if it contained some life-saving serum for exactly what might be about to kill her. Her face looked ragged and tired without all that makeup.
“Seriously? You’re really going to let me go?”
“Oh yeah. Absolutely. Best idea I ever heard. You just keep an eye on the weather reports and give a yell when hell freezes over.”
Carly absorbed the news the way she might absorb a slap.
She stood and marched out of the room.
She could think of a dozen things to say, but she couldn’t untangle them, one from the other. Besides, it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good. Suggesting that her mom was being unfair would not bring about fairness. And it didn’t help to be angry. Because Carly’s mom could out-angry Carly. She could out-angry anybody. She could bully Teddy, and Teddy was a big, strong grown man.
Carly made her way upstairs, into her room, and slammed the door behind her.
She picked up the phone, then realized that the phone book was downstairs. Rather than risk it, she called directory assistance.
“What city, please?” the operator asked.
“Tulare.”
“What listing?”
“Hannish. With two n’s. I think. I don’t know the first name.”
“I have a Dean Hannish Senior on West San Joaquin Avenue.”
“That’s it. Thanks.”
She wrote the number on the inside of her hand in red pen. Her heart thrummed lightly. The ink absorbing into her hand made it feel important, like tattooing a guy’s name on her skin. The redness of it made it feel forbidden. It was both of those things and so much more. She didn’t know what, specifically, the “more” was. But she was determined to find out.
She dialed the number, and Dean—her Dean, not Dean Senior—picked up on the second ring.
“’Bout time you called, you big asshat,” he said, in that place where “hello” would normally have fit.
“Um…”
“Oh. You’re not Jerry. Uh-oh. Sorry. Sorry. Especially if you’re calling for my mom. Extra sorry.”
“No, I’m calling for you.”
“Carly?”
“Yeah.”
“Hey. Carly. Hey. Glad you called. Wasn’t sure if you’d call.”
A long, awkward silence.
Then he said, “You coming to the cabin tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Carly said. “Absolutely I am.”
“Great. We’ll leave at eleven. Give or take. We’ll swing by and pick you up around eleven.”
“No!” she said, far too stridently. Nearly giving it all away. “No, that’s fine. I’ll come to your house. Your address is in the book, right?”
“You sure you don’t want to get picked up? Parents like that.”
“Positive.”
“Slight problem. You can’t come to the house. The only reason my dad’s letting us go alone is because he thinks it’s all guys. Tell you what. Pick you up in the parking lot behind the middle school.”
“OK.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Carly set the phone back into its cradle. Gently. The way she’d handle live ordnance.
It was pretty simple, really, in her head. One of two things would happen. Teddy would work with her, and for her, persuading her mom to change her mind. Or Carly would take off in the morning, leaving a note. Her mom wouldn’t find the note until after work, when Carly would be long gone.
The note could say something like:
After I get home you can punish me for the rest of the history of civilization. But right now, for once in my life, I’m going to be the one who gets chosen.
When Carly came downstairs around lunchtime, Teddy had three friends over. His usual guy friends. Ernie and Paul and Javier. They were playing poker in the kitchen.
Teddy had bowls of tortilla chips and salsa in the middle of the table. Amid the poker chips. Carly stuck her head into the kitchen just in time to watch Paul call a raise and toss a blue poker chip right into the salsa. It splashed. All four guys made audible noises of disgust. Ernie almost stuck his hand in the sa
lsa to retrieve it, but Teddy yanked the bowl out of the way before that disaster could happen.
As he was carrying it to the sink, he saw Carly over his shoulder.
“Hey, you,” he said.
He tossed Paul a dish towel, and Paul set about swiping at the stacks of poker chips to catch the salsa splashes.
Teddy took a fork out of the drawer and fished the poker chip out of the salsa. Rinsed both under the tap.
“At noon?” Carly asked.
“What better time to have chips and salsa than at noon?”
“I meant the poker. Isn’t poker sort of like drinking? Don’t normal people do it after five?”
Her eyes settled back to the table, where she noted that each of the four men had an open beer going.
“When you’re unemployed,” Teddy said, “every hour of the day is after five.”
All three of the guys nodded. Ernie and Javier clinked the mouths of their beer bottles together in a toast to the sentiment.
Teddy sat back down and rearranged the table so that the tortilla chips and salsa sat between Teddy and Paul. Where they would be safer.
Javier took a cigar out of his pocket and clamped it in his teeth.
Teddy set his cards facedown on the table.
“I will kill you with my bare hands,” he said, staring down Javier.
Javier was searching his pockets for a lighter and didn’t notice. Finally Paul jabbed him in the ribs.
“Oh. Who? Me?” Javier asked, meeting Teddy’s eyes.
“You’re the one with the cigar, so, yes. I will kill you with my bare hands if you light that thing in this house. And I won’t even have to face legal retribution because my lovely and delicate lady friend will murder me in cold blood the second she walks through the door and smells what you’ve done.”
Carly leaned on the kitchen door frame and tried not to smile. It was fun to watch the men interacting. Especially with her mother playing an offscreen role as the attractive-yet-wicked witch.
“Teddy—” Javier began.
“Get thee to the back porch.”
“I don’t want to miss any rounds.”
“Great,” Teddy said. “Nice priorities. It’s not worth missing a round, but it’s worth signing my death warrant. I’ll be sure to come back and haunt you. Now put the stinky thing away.”
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