My father finally pulls up in front of the house. Cameron drags his last bag to the top of the steps while my mother straightens the jacket she put on him, which he quickly takes off. It’s like a hundred degrees in the shade! My father waves at my mom from the car, but she just ignores him. One thing I won’t miss is all the tension and loud, embarrassing arguments between them.
“It might be cold on the plane, so keep your jacket handy, sweetie.” My mother babies my brother, which he soaks up until he sees my friends.
“Okay, Ma.” Cameron makes his way down the stairs to my dad, who’s standing outside the car, waiting.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you guys when I get back,” I tell Mimi and Eva as I grab my bags. My dad comes over to help me.
“You all act like it’s the end of the world,” my father says, attempting to make a joke.
“It might as well be,” I say as I turn to my friends. “Make it to the Garden. No matter what, you guys better bring it.”
“We got you, Kayla,” Mimi says unconvincingly. The three of us have another group hug. My mother is suddenly by my side. She looks at my sad face, then kisses me on the cheek.
“Here.” Mom hands me a picture of my North Carolina relatives.
“Ma, I know what they look like,” I say, annoyed that she thinks I have forgotten them. I could never forget them.
“I am just making sure, sweetie,” my mom says. She hesitates, then adds, “I can’t promise you that everything will be the same when you get back, but I need to count on you to be strong, okay?”
I just nod somberly. My parents possibly splitting up isn’t something I want to think about. What will happen to us? Will my father leave us? Will we have to choose sides? Will my little brother and I be split apart? And now I won’t even have double Dutch to take my mind off the situation.
“Have Aunt Jeanie call me when you get there,” my mom orders. I nod again.
My father takes the bag out of my hand with a smile. “Hey, baby girl,” he says.
By the look I give him he should know I’m not happy with him right now. Can’t he tell? I know I’m being punished for something he did. He stares at my mother for a few seconds, but she looks away. “Hop in, Kayla. GPS says we’re looking at traffic.” My father hurries me along. As he shuts the front passenger door, I wave to Mimi and Eva, who start walking down the block. Eva smiles a bit, which makes me feel like she’s definitely not sad about me leaving. My mother solemnly waves from the top of the stairs, hiding her tears.
Within minutes there’s an awkward silence in the car. Even Cameron is quiet. Maybe because my mother packed his tablet. My father starts trying to make small talk about the weather and how much hotter it’s going to get, stuff I couldn’t care less about right now. Really, Dad? I pull out my earbuds, stuff them into my ears as far as they can go, and crank up the volume on my tablet to deafen the angry voices in my head. My father’s moving his mouth, but I can’t hear a word he’s saying. Thank goodness! Suddenly he yanks the cord.
“I’m talking to you,” my father says.
“Come on, Daddy!” I say, aggravated. “What’s wrong with you?”
“That tone is unacceptable, so I suggest you find a new one.” Now he’s agitated. “I would like to have a conversation with you if you don’t mind,” he presses.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” He wants to talk, right? So let’s get down to it.
“What?” He’s caught off guard. “That is none of your business. And frankly that isn’t what I want to talk about.”
“I do,” I persist. “It is our business, because Cameron and I have to go down south because you and Mommy are fighting, and it had nothing to do with us, but we’re the ones paying for whatever mistake you made.”
“You know, you’ve become very opinionated and outspoken lately, young lady, and I’m not sure I like it.” My dad is trying to change course here, but he can tell by my crossed arms and raised eyebrows that I am very serious about hearing an answer.
“Daddy, I’m not a kid anymore,” I try to reason. “I know when something is going on.”
“So do you have a girlfriend?” Cameron asks.
Shocked, my father checks his rearview mirror and realizes Cameron is in on the conversation. He glances back at me, and I give him the same look I did earlier. Well? Daddy sighs as he searches for words.
“Your mother and I haven’t been getting along for some time now. But you know”—he looks away for a moment—“she’s just very hard to live with.”
“And you’re easy to live with? Hmm,” I mumble. Is he for real?
“What was that?” Dad asks.
I shrug and look out the window.
“You leave your socks everywhere, and Mommy makes me pick them up,” Cameron chimes in.
I snicker. Daddy shoots me a look.
“Okay, maybe not,” he admits. “But the story is a lot deeper than that. I mean, your mother and I were so young when we got married. We hardly knew each other….Look, I want you both to know that no matter what we decide, we will make sure we don’t miss a beat with you, and we’ll be there for you one hundred percent.”
“So you really are thinking about getting a divorce?” I ask with sadness. Daddy doesn’t respond.
“What’s a divorce?” Cameron is so innocent. “Is that code for ‘we’re getting a dog’?”
“No, Cameron.” I try to cover. “It’s when two people play Ping-Pong with their kids and think it’s better that way.”
“I like Ping-Pong.” Cameron doesn’t get it.
“I like Ping-Pong too, buddy,” Dad responds. “But don’t get too excited. We might not be playing for a while. Just hang tight, okay?”
“Do you still love Mommy?” I ask.
“Of course I do,” he says as he squints and gives me the side-eye. To that I raise an eyebrow at him, as if to ask, Love-love or just love?
Daddy starts to speak, then hesitates. It’s like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to tell us the truth. He just lets out a big sigh and focuses on the road. And I go back to listening to my music. Ugh! Love seems so complicated, which is exactly why I can’t even think about having a boyfriend. If love comes with this many headaches, I’d rather not even go there, ever!
* * *
—
When we arrive at the airport, the tension in the car is still suffocating; I can’t wait to get out. Now even the lady at the ticket counter is flirting with my dad. Can’t she see he has kids? Flirting back comes easy to my dad. It’s like it’s in his DNA. They laugh and joke throughout the whole process of shipping us away.
“Hold on to these.” Dad hands me the tickets. “Make sure you call when you land. You hear me?”
“Call you with what?” I ask. “I never did get that phone you promised when I got to junior high.”
“If you keep talking to me with that attitude, you’ll never get one,” Dad responds. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, Daddy.” I nod, with sadness and frustration written on my face. My father grabs my shoulders.
“Listen, your mother and I have some things to work out, and nothing is certain,” he says.
“Why not?” I ask, really not understanding.
“Because life is about constantly making the best decisions.” Is Dad trying to be philosophical? “You know, life doesn’t come with instructions, and neither does marriage. Just know that your mother and I love you both very much.” He pulls out a wad of money and peels off a few bills. “Here, I think you guys can have a good time with this.”
“This is supposed to make us happy?” I say, angry and disappointed. “A few hundred dollars?”
“I’ll take it!” Cameron says happily as I hold him back.
“Kayla, I told you, you need to check that tone of yours.” My dad’s patience wanes.
“I am still your father.”
“Then act like it!” I grab the money and Cameron’s arm and move quickly toward the escalator. I can’t help it. I’m going to suffer my whole summer because “life is about constantly making the best decisions.” Whatever! I am going to miss my friends, the double Dutch competition, and everything about being home for the summer. This sucks!
Daddy watches as we go up the escalator. He looks upset, but he knows he only has himself to blame. Maybe I am being hard on him because I don’t know what’s really going on. My mother might be a witch when Cameron and I aren’t around, for all I know. But regardless of what my dad says now, he’s always taught me that when I start something I should finish it; never leave unfinished business. He’s not practicing what he preaches. Hopefully he won’t leave us unfinished.
* * *
—
On the plane, Cameron and I settle next to a little old lady. Tears stream down my face as I watch the New York City skyline fade away in the clouds. I feel a tap on my hand. It’s the lady, holding out a tissue.
“Are you all going home or will you be visiting in Charlotte?” she asks with a friendly smile.
“We’re going to visit relatives,” I reply as I wipe my face.
“Oh, well then, why such a long face?” she asks. “Charlotte is wonderful in the summertime. I think you’re really going to enjoy it, maybe even have the best time of your life.”
This lady has obviously never met my cousin Sally. If she had, she wouldn’t assume it’s going to be fun hanging out with her. I crack a smile to be polite. At this point, all I can do is close my eyes and dream of being back in Brooklyn, but all the hope in the world isn’t stopping my tears. The best time of my life? I seriously doubt it.
I jump out of a deep sleep, hoping all of this is a bad dream. But, no, the plane just made a hard landing in blue-skied North Carolina. I can’t believe we’re here already! I probably dozed off while the little old lady was still talking to me. Where is she? She must have changed her seat. I look around the rows, but I still don’t see her. Maybe she was a ghost? Maybe she was some kind of fairy godmother telling me I just might have the best time of my life. Ha! I can only wish. Cameron slept the whole way too, and now I have to practically drag him off the plane.
At baggage claim, I look around for familiar faces, but I don’t see anyone. Until I hear a voice that sounds like my mother’s. It’s my aunt Jeanie.
“Well, hello there, lady!” Aunt Jeanie says, ever cheerful. She hugs Cameron first. “Look at you! So big! And, Ms. Kayla, my, how you’ve grown into a beautiful young lady. You’re looking more and more like your mother.” Really? I don’t think I have half the beauty of my mother.
“Hi, Aunt Jeanie.” I smile, still groggy from the plane ride. I forgot how nice she is.
Aunt Jeanie and my mom are like night and day but equally pretty. She’s tall and always so put together, and for some crazy reason she always has a smile on her face. I admire her happiness. Okay, I admit, it really is good to see Aunt Jeanie. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see the rest of my relatives. As they approach, Sally stares me up and down. I return the grit and the same tired wave she gives me. She’s still short. Still wears her hair in a bun. A bun-head ballerina, I’m guessing. Okay, she’s gotten prettier. Whatever. I still can’t stand her. The last time I was here we didn’t get along, not even for a minute. When she wanted to play with dolls, I wanted to climb trees. When I wanted to play hide-and-seek, she wanted to play on the swings. When I wanted to build a clubhouse out of cardboard boxes, she said she didn’t play games that made her look homeless. Huh? Whatever. But when I did convince her to play in my uncle’s old car and act like we were driving, she pulled a lever around the steering wheel and the car rolled right out into the street with us screaming inside it. We smashed into the neighbor’s rose garden, which scratched the paint on my uncle’s classic car. I thought his head was going to pop off his shoulders, he was so mad. Sally took the blame for everything, while I went back home. She’s hated me ever since.
After grimacing at my hat-to-the-back and all my Brooklyn style that she has none of, Sally just walks ahead with her arms crossed as if she hates that I’m here. If I could catch the next thing smoking back to JFK, I would.
My uncle Larry says quick hellos and loads our bags onto a cart. Uncle Larry is quiet at times, but he seems happy that way, and he’s the only uncle who doesn’t treat me like a child. He has a way of treating everyone like they have some sense about everything, like he does, and he expects everyone to be smart or at least act like they are. Maybe that’s why he’s a successful businessman.
Cameron is ecstatic to see my younger cousins, Michael and Eddie. Michael is only one year older than Eddie, but he looks like he’s growing bigger and way faster than little Eddie. To Cameron, it doesn’t matter that they are about two and three years older than him. They take him in like they’ve known each other since diapers. Boys. I’m sure at some point the three are going to get on my nerves, but since our parents haven’t paid much attention to Cameron lately, it’ll be good for him to forget what’s going on back at home. At least he’ll have a good time. As for me…hmm, I don’t know.
“It’s going to be an interesting summer,” Uncle Larry blurts out to Aunt Jeanie.
“It’s going to be a perfect summer.” Aunt Jeanie smiles sternly. I’m glad somebody’s optimistic.
* * *
—
It’s dark by the time we pull up to their house, but I can tell it still looks like something out of a magazine. It’s large and white, with a green lawn and flowers for days. All the houses in the area are just as pretty. I feel like we’ve driven up to a neighborhood out of some movie about the burbs. Just as we arrive, the lights come on, making the house look like a majestic castle. And of course, my cousin Sally is the princess. The only thing that’s missing is a gate, but I guess crime isn’t an issue here, like it is back in Brooklyn.
I can’t remember the last time I walked on or even touched grass, and freshly cut green grass at that. It smells that way, anyway. And as I step out of the air-conditioned car, all of this green stuff makes the humidity feel like cool mist on my skin. My aunt and uncle’s house looks like it cost millions, outside and in. There are family pictures everywhere. They’ve taken a lot of trips. Lucky them. The whole house reminds me of the homes my dad used to work on in the Hamptons when I was small. I used to pretend they were my real-life Barbie Dreamhouses and act like I owned the place when I was in one. Only when no one was looking, though. But even here, I’m cautious not to touch Aunt Jeanie’s antiques, which I’m sure are just as priceless. The way my mom puts it, Aunt Jeanie has a thing for finding junk and selling it. I think if anyone can make money from selling old stuff, that’s pretty cool.
The boys run straight into the huge kitchen and immediately grab snacks out of the cabinet. Cameron is right behind Michael and Eddie as they continue running into their room. He’s having fun already. Sally, however, has been completely ignoring me all the way from the airport, so I can’t imagine she’ll invite me to her room. And I’m right. She goes up the stairs to her bedroom and shuts the door. Aunt Jeanie looks at me and tries to cover for her daughter being inhospitable.
“Sally is…” She searches for the right words, then says, “Oh, all right, she’s finally become a woman, and she’s going through a few things right now.”
“Aunt Jeanie!” I wasn’t ready for all of that. “I know she doesn’t like me. You don’t have to make excuses.”
“I’m not kidding. She thought it was taking a long time, and she was beginning to worry,” Aunt Jeanie goes on, as if I really want to hear about Sally getting her period. “I think it’s all the ballet. But she is very excited to be a woman now.”
She notices my uninterested face. “I’m sorry, honey. You must be hungry and exhausted. Here, let Uncle take your stuff
upstairs, and I’ll warm up something for you.”
“I’m fine, really.” I begin to think Aunt Jeanie has been wanting someone to talk to and now I’m it.
“Okay, but I made pie,” Aunt Jeanie teases.
She finally gets a smile out of me.
“Apple?” I ask as I take a seat in the breakfast nook. Suddenly I feel hunger pangs. Aunt Jeanie’s apple pie is crazy good. Now, that I remember.
Finally, after two servings of pie and ice cream, I am mad sleepy. Aunt Jeanie burns up my ears about my parents and how they met and all. It seems like she is trying to tell me something important, maybe something I need to understand as to why my parents’ relationship is so whack right now, but I just can’t keep my eyes open. Aunt Jeanie realizes my head has gotten too heavy for my shoulders, because it almost falls into the puddle of melted ice cream on my plate.
“Oh my gosh.” Aunt Jeanie jumps, then I jump. “Come on, baby. I just talked you to sleep.”
“Huh?” I sit up. She clears our plates and grabs my arm to help me slide out of the breakfast nook and up the stairs.
“Since Marc is doing an engineering program this summer, he’s staying at the dorms in Chapel Hill. You can have his room,” Aunt Jeanie says, trying to make up for Sally not sharing her room.
The room is a true boy’s room: dark blue paint, basketball hoop on the door, and Beyoncé and JLo posters all over the walls. Oh boy. It doesn’t matter. I already knew this trip was going to be like living in h-e-double-hockey-sticks, so I am not surprised. And there’s an old phone mounted on the wall. Really? I always thought Southern people were behind the times, but that’s just plain funny. Finally I settle into bed. Not bad. Aunt Jeanie tucks me in like I’m a five-year-old, but it’s kind of nice. I’ve always loved my aunt. She always seems so happy and nice. Wait a minute….
Love Double Dutch! Page 3