“Oh, you know . . . everything. Lily, you, Rose, your dad. It seems like everything is a mess, Aster. And I can’t help but think it’s partly my fault.”
I consider this and think, Yeah, it has to be partly your fault. Of course, I don’t say this. I mean, Mom has made great strides lately. Why should I kick her when she’s down?
“The thing is, I’ve blamed your dad, Aster. For years I have blamed him for everything.”
“Well, he did leave you, Mom. You can certainly blame him for that. Right?”
She doesn’t answer.
“I mean, it was his choice to go, you didn’t force him,” I say. “And then this whole deal of not paying child support. You can blame him for that too.”
“I was thinking even farther back, Aster.”
“What?”
“Well, the truth is, I’ve been angry at your dad ever since Lily was born.” She looks directly at me now. “There. I’ve said it.”
“Why?”
“I blamed him for Lily’s condition.”
“You blamed him?” Now, this doesn’t compute. How could Dad be responsible? Her condition is not even a genetic thing, not that you can blame anyone for the DNA they toss to an unborn child.
“I went into labor around midnight, but he didn’t want to take me to the hospital too soon.”
I nod.
“We didn’t have good insurance. And with both you and Rose, I’d had long labors, and those hours add up. So your dad thought we should wait until my water broke.”
“Don’t lots of people do that?”
“Yes. But even so, I had a bad feeling about not going in, and I told him so.”
“But he still didn’t want to go?”
“He said it’d be better to wait. Then we could have Mrs. Stein from next door come over and stay with you girls. Otherwise, we’d have to wake you up and take you.”
“I remember Mrs. Stein. She was nice.”
Mom nods, but I can tell her mind is still on that night. “So we stayed home, and I kept having contractions. At about six my water broke, your dad called Mrs. Stein, and we headed for the hospital. Of course, by the time we got there and I was in the delivery room and hooked up to the monitor, almost an hour had gone by. Something was wrong, but the baby’s head was already crowning, and the doctor wanted her out fast. He did a forceps delivery, and when Lily came out she was blue.”
Now I recall what I read about the flattened umbilical cord and no oxygen getting to the baby. “So if you’d gone to the hospital sooner . . . Lily might’ve been okay?”
“Yes, that’s what I believed. And so I blamed your father for Lily’s brain damage.”
“Oh . . .”
“I never told anyone about this before, Aster. I mean, about blaming him. I didn’t even tell your father . . . well, not in so many words. But he knew. I hinted at it. And I was angry. And I know I made him miserable. But I was miserable. Life was miserable.”
I go over and sit next to my mom on the sofa. I put an arm around her shoulders. And I realize that I’m crying. I don’t know what to say. Maybe words don’t matter. Then she hugs me, and we both cry a little, then pull away, suddenly uncomfortable with all this emotion and closeness.
I go into the kitchen and get us both tissues, then sit back down. “You know, Mom, I was blaming Dad for Lily’s arm tonight. I was thinking, ‘Crud, Dad, I take care of Lily for her whole life and she never breaks a single bone, and you have her for a few hours and the next thing we know she’s in the hospital. Nice work.’ ”
Mom sort of smiles at this.
“But then as we were coming home, I realized that I need to forgive him.”
Mom sighs. “Maybe so . . . but how is that possible?”
“In my case, it’s going to take some help from God,” I admit. “But he’s the one who says we need to forgive. So I’m thinking he ought to be able to help me with it.”
She just nods.
“And I’m sure if you asked him, Mom, he’d help you too.”
“I’ll be keeping that in mind, Aster. Let me know how it goes for you, okay?” Then she gets up and yawns. “Now I’m heading for bed.” She pauses. “Oh yeah, the guidance counselor from your school called me at work today.”
“Ms. Grieves called you at work?” I’m astounded. “Why?”
Mom smiles. “She said you’re very smart. And I told her I was aware of that.”
“She called just to tell you I’m smart?”
“No, she called to ask me to encourage you to take these scholarship opportunities seriously, Aster. She says you have an excellent chance for something really good.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that she wants you to come to that meeting tomorrow.”
“Huh?”
“For Branford University.”
“Oh yeah. I remember.”
“I told her that I’d heard Branford was pretty expensive. And then she told me something, Aster. Something you never mentioned.”
“What?”
“Your SAT scores.”
I just shrug.
“She said you received the highest in the school.”
Okay, this is news to me. “Seriously?”
“And not just for this year, Aster. She said the highest ever.”
Now I’m stunned. “Why didn’t anyone tell me this?”
Mom laughs. “I guess they assumed that you were so smart you must know it.”
I just shake my head. “I had no idea.”
“Well, do us all a favor and go to that meeting tomorrow. It seems that the recruiters from Branford are seriously scouting you.”
“What about Lily? She won’t be going to the rec center tomorrow, will she?”
Mom frowns now. “Well, Lily is my responsibility. I’ll think of something.”
Suddenly I remember George and his offer to help me. He said to just call. “I have a friend,” I tell Mom. “And Lily actually likes him.”
“Him?”
“He’s a nice Christian guy and very responsible. He’s actually helping Pastor Geoff with youth group.”
Mom considers this. “I don’t know about a guy. Do you really trust him, Aster?”
I nod firmly. “I do. And the meeting will probably be only an hour or two. In fact, maybe George could drop me off and take Lily to the library.”
“Perfect!” Mom seems sold.
Perfect, I’m thinking, but only if George is available and willing. If not, well, maybe it’s just God’s way of saying that some expensive private college isn’t what I need.
Still, as I get ready for bed I think about my SAT scores. I had no idea they were that high. Oh, I knew they were good. But the highest in the school—ever? That’s pretty mind-blowing.
After I’m in bed, I ask God to help me forgive my dad. But even as I say this, I realize that I already have. I also realize that God’s been helping me with a lot of things all along. And so I thank him. From the bottom of my heart, I thank him.
20
“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than drop you off at a recruitment meeting for Branford,” George says after I call him the next morning. “I think you’d really like it there. Not that I’m biased or anything.”
“And Lily? You don’t mind taking her to the library?”
“Not at all. I happen to have a great fondness for libraries.”
Then I explain about her arm. “But she’s feeling lots better today. And she’s very proud of her pretty pink cast.”
“We’ll go show it off.”
Shortly after I call George, my phone rings, and when I see that it’s Owen, I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail. Then I think I should just get this over with. Besides, I’m glad to know the truth about him. Despite my wounded pride, I feel I have dodged a bullet.
“How’s Lily?” he asks after we’ve said hello.
I give him a quick lowdown.
“That’s good to hear.” He pauses. “So how about you and me, Aster?
Are we still good? Katie was acting a little weird last night. Like maybe you told her something about us?”
“No, not really. I just had to leave for Lily’s sake.”
“Oh, good.”
“And I sort of need to get going.”
“What’s up?”
I tell him about the recruitment meeting.
“Branford?” He chuckles. “Are you serious? Do you know how much their tuition is, Aster?”
“Not specifically.”
“Well, that’s where Wayne went last year.” He laughs even louder. “Trust me, their tuition is pretty steep. My dad is still complaining about it.”
“Oh.” I’m so tempted to tell Owen about my SAT scores and that Branford is actually scouting me. But I think, Why bother?
“Seriously, Aster, you’d just be wasting your time.”
“Well, it’s my time to waste.”
“Hey, if you have time to waste, why not waste it with me? We could drive out to the lake and—”
“No thanks.”
“Maybe later then?”
“I’m going to cut to the chase, Owen. I’m just not interested, okay?”
“Not interested in what?”
“In dating you.”
There’s a long silence.
“Sorry to be so blunt,” I say. “But I thought you should know.”
“And now that you mention it, Aster, I was going to tell you that this whole thing with your retarded sister . . . well, that’s just not going to work for me.”
“Yeah, I’m not that surprised.”
And then, without even saying good-bye, I hear a loud click. Owen hung up on me. Why does that not surprise me?
And why hadn’t I paid more attention to the signals earlier on? And why hadn’t I believed what Crystal told me? Probably because I didn’t want to. Owen represented independence to me—and yet being with Owen turned into a different kind of bondage.
Lily’s cast makes getting her ready even more of a challenge, but I try to stick to the plan that Mom and I have agreed on. I encourage her to do as much for herself as possible. And when she complains, I point out that she is getting to do a very grown-up thing today. “You are going to the library with George while I go to a meeting at my school. It’s going to be just you and George, Lily. And I expect you to act very grown-up.”
“Is it a date?” she asks with wide eyes.
“Sort of like a date,” I tell her. I figure this can’t hurt since Lily doesn’t really know what a date is.
“Cool.” She smiles at her reflection in the mirror as she makes a good attempt to get the brush through her hair with her good hand.
Soon we’re in George’s car, and I’m a little worried that Lily might freak over seeing me dropped off without her, but to my amazed relief she simply waves and smiles. Very grown-up.
The meeting goes better than I could’ve imagined. Naturally, the recruiter can’t make any promises, but she gives me all the paperwork and encourages me to follow through on everything.
“I hear you play soccer too,” she says as we’re leaving.
“I do, but it’s not like I’m a star.”
“Well, we have a solid women’s team, but they’re always looking for new players—not stars.” She winks. “And you’ll have to come visit us next fall. I put the brochure about that weekend in your packet.”
“I have a friend who goes to Branford,” I say as we leave the meeting room.
“What’s her name?”
“It’s a guy. George . . . George . . . you know, I can’t remember his last name.” The truth is, I don’t even know his last name. “But he’s from New Zealand, and he’s a really nice guy.”
“That has to be George McBride. And you’re right, he is a really nice guy.”
When I get outside the school, I see that old burgundy car parked in front. And Lily is sitting in the passenger side of the front seat, waving out the window with her good arm and grinning like a cat that just ate a canary.
I jog over and see that George is grinning too. “Sorry, Aster, but you’ve been demoted to the backseat.”
“That’s fine,” I say as I climb in. Then I throw back my head and start laughing. I laugh so hard that I practically have tears coming.
“What? What?” Lily demands. “What is funny? You laughing at me, Aster?”
“No, not at all.” I wipe my eyes and catch my breath. “I’m just laughing because I’m so happy, Lily. And you know what?”
“What?”
“I just realized that today is my birthday! I am seventeen!”
“Happy birthday, Aster!” Lily shouts.
“Happy birthday,” George adds. “That makes me think we should go out and celebrate. Anyone here want some cake and ice cream?”
“I do! I do!” Lily shouts.
“Me too!” I shout back. “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream.”
“Stop! Stop!” Lily yells. “Stop the car!”
Without questioning her, George puts on his signal and pulls over. “What’s wrong, Lily?” he asks calmly.
“Aster!” she yells. “It really your birthday?”
“Yes,” I answer. “I just told you that.” Suddenly I remember how jealous Lily can be about my birthday. It comes a couple weeks before hers, and she always thinks it’s unfair that it’s not her birthday too. In fact, I often share my birthday with her.
“Get outta car!” Lily yells.
“Why?” I ask.
“It your birthday—you sit in front.”
“Oh, that’s okay, Lily.”
“No, Aster! It your birthday. You sit in front!” Now she’s trying to undo her seat belt with one hand. “Come on, Aster!”
“I’m coming. I’m coming.” So I hop out, open her door, and help her to unbuckle and get out of the car. Then I notice that George’s old car has a bench seat in front. “Hey, there’s room for three,” I tell Lily. “We can all sit in front.”
“We all sit in front!” Lily says.
So I slide in, and Lily slides in next to me. I close the door and buckle her back in, then turn to look at George. “Is this okay?”
His face breaks into a big grin. “Absolutely.”
“I scream, I scream,” Lily cries. “I scream for ice cream!”
“That was close,” I tell her. Then I repeat the silly rhyme the right way so she can try again. And as George pulls back into traffic and Lily chants about ice cream, I realize that once again I am stuck in the middle. But this time I’m liking it.
I lean back into the seat, listening as my sister and George break into a very off-key rendition of “Happy Birthday,” and I realize that my life really is good. Oh, it might not always go smoothly. Okay, it hardly ever goes smoothly. And it’ll probably never resemble anything close to normal. But it’s my life—and I thank God that he is in the middle of it.
Melody Carlson is the award-winning author of around two hundred books, many of them for teens, including the Diary of a Teenage Girl series, the TrueColors series, and the Carter House Girls series. She and her husband met years ago while volunteering as Young Life counselors. They continue to serve on the Young Life adult committee in central Oregon today. Visit Melody’s website at www.melodycarlson.com.
Just Another Girl Page 16