Nathan Detroit is definitely the cool one, she said. Same as I’d never want to be Sarah. I’d want to be Adelaide.
He had saved them seats near the front. Too bad they don’t have a full band, he said. It was just Mrs. Thompkins, one of the music teachers, accompanying the singers on piano.
I saw this show on Broadway one time, she told him. Tonight she didn’t feel like adding: With my mom.
This version might be a tad different, he said.
It was different, all right, but she loved the music so much, it didn’t matter that much how the Redbirds performed the show. She had listened to the original cast album so many times she could substitute their voices for the seventh and eighth graders up onstage in their too-big suits and their dresses that looked like they’d been rooting around in their grandmother’s closet. Except for the outfits of Adelaide and the Hot Box Girls.
The girl who played Adelaide was a full head taller than Nathan, with a body that wouldn’t quit, as Garrett would have put it. Where Ira, the boy playing Nathan, looked like he’d be more comfortable playing one of the little brothers in The Sound of Music. Or the kid, Winthrop, in The Music Man. When he opened his mouth, though, you knew why he got the part. The boy could sing.
At intermission, Henry took her out to the hall and bought them both a Dr Pepper and a couple of chocolate-chip cookies.
So how do you like band so far? he asked.
It’s okay, she said. I was never crazy about the theme song from Titanic. I’m more into jazz.
That’s awesome, he said. Me, too. Who do you listen to mostly?
She thought about the CD’s Josh had sent her for Christmas, what he said about how she could really impress some guy if she mentioned certain artists. She decided to save that for some other time.
Oh, the usual, she said. John Coltrane, Bill Evans, Charlie Parker. You know.
Wow, he said. I guess it’s different in New York. I’ve got like one Kenny G CD and the soundtrack to Sleepless in Seattle, that’s about it.
My dad says someone should take Kenny G and his saxophone someplace like Alaska and wait till it’s really cold and make him stick his tongue out and put it up against the metal.
The dad she meant was Josh, naturally. Henry looked puzzled.
I think what he means is he doesn’t like Kenny G’s music that much, she said.
You really know a lot about jazz, Henry said. Maybe we could go to Virgin Records in Sacramento some afternoon and try out CD’s at the listening station.
To Henry, it occurred to her, she was this very grown-up and worldly type of person. It was possible that, unlike her, he had never French-kissed even.
We could probably do that, she said. I have a friend who lives near there with her baby. I’d want to stop by and say hello to her, too.
She could tell this also impressed him.
You must think Davis is pretty much of a two-bit town, he said. After New York.
In some ways, she said. In other ways, it’s sort of a relief.
Then it was act two, and Adelaide and the Hot Box Girls were coming out. It was the number she and her mother had worked up their routine for, “Take Back Your Mink.” She should have known it was coming, but when she heard the first chords of the song on the piano and saw the girl playing Adelaide sashaying onstage, busting out of her gold spandex bathing suit, it caught her off guard.
This girl was only thirteen or fourteen, tops, but she was a lot bigger than Wendy’s mother had been, and with more of a Hot Box kind of look to her. Wendy thought about her mother dancing this number—her skinny body in her red sleeveless leotard, shimmying her top, even though she didn’t really have much there, her slim legs in their fishnet stockings, tapping.
She had taught Wendy some steps for their number, Wendy being the other Hot Box Girl. Just basic tap steps—kick ball change, kick ball change. Mostly they wiggled their rear ends and flung their boas around.
The truth was, Wendy had always been a terrible dancer. Her mother worked with her a lot in the old days. When Wendy was little and they still had the Pocahontas Dancing School, she’d sit in on all the classes. But she never could get her feet to move the way her mother showed her. Even when she was very young—four, five—she knew she would never dance like her mother.
Maybe you won’t be a ballerina or a jazz dancer, her mother said. But you’ve got all sorts of other talents I don’t have, things you got from your father. Like how you can carry a tune. How you can draw.
When her mother said this, her father was gone already, and Wendy was used to hearing her mother say mad things about him. The idea of being like her father didn’t necessarily sound like a good thing.
I want to be like you, she said.
Here’s the great thing about when people have a child, her mother said. The baby isn’t all from one person or all from the other. She’s a little of both. The best parts of both, if you’re lucky, which we were.
I thought you didn’t like my dad.
I don’t like some of the things he did. But I liked who he was when I met him, and I know those things I liked are still in him, because they couldn’t just disappear. Just being around you all the time reminds me of the things that made me want to get married to him in the first place.
What part of you did I get? Wendy asked. Because she knew it wasn’t the dancing and even at age five it was becoming clear, not the skinny little body, light as air, either.
I like to think I have a zest for life, her mother said. I know you do, and I like to think maybe you got some of that from me.
Up on the stage now, the Hot Box Girls were shimmying heavily offstage. A man in the seat next to Wendy was standing up with his video camera pointed at one of the secondary Hot Box Girls in the back row.
If you ask me, they were the Lukewarm Box Girls, Henry said. Maybe even the Cold Box Girls.
There was not a single good dancer in the bunch, that was true. But something else had been missing that he was picking up on, though he might not even have known it. The zest for life part, that would have made her mother a good dancer if she’d never taken a single class in her life or never heard of a timestep. The thing that came across when you watched her mother dancing was how much she loved being alive.
For Louie’s birthday party, Josh was taking a bunch of kids from his class to Bowlmor Lanes and then out for pizza. He’d arranged a bunch of other stuff, too, he told Wendy. Right in the middle of the bowling, Roberto and Omar were going to come in dressed as pirates and act like they were going to steal the presents, and Josh would hand out pirate swords to all the kids and they’d fight them off, and the kids would win, naturally. Then they’d have cake, which would be in the shape of a pirate ship, with rigging and little plastic pirates on top for everyone to take home, with cocktail-pick swords.
Eight kids were coming to the party. Kate was going to help out. Later, back at their apartment, they would have a birthday dinner and Josh would give Louie his present, a train set with a bridge and a station and passengers you could put in the cars. There were special pellets to put in the engine that made steam come out. It was a more expensive present than they usually got him, but Josh didn’t need to explain why he might be trying unusually hard to make this birthday go well.
Every morning, Louie asks me how many more days, Josh told Wendy on the phone. Way more than Christmas even, he’s been gearing up for this one. It’s like he thinks turning five is one of the landmark events in life.
Maybe it’s just that Corey’s been five for a while, she said. He’s anxious to catch up.
Maybe, said Josh. But when he turned four, Corey was already four, and it wasn’t like this.
Wendy had sent Louie a pair of pajamas she’d sewed for Pablo, his rabbit, made from rabbit-print flannel, with a carrot made out of felt stuck in the pocket, and a copy of Runaway Bunny.
The morning of the birthday party, she called their apartment before they left for the bowling alley. It was only six-thirty in
California, but she got up early to catch him.
Happy birthday, big boy, she said, the way their mother always used to on his other birthdays.
Five is a pretty great number, isn’t it?
Yes, he said. She could hear him breathing heavily on the other end of the phone and knew he was holding the receiver very tight.
I bet Poppy made you waffles this morning, didn’t he?
Yup, he said. But I was too excited to eat any.
Remind me all the kids that are coming to your party, she said.
I forget their names he told her. He didn’t seem focused on that part. He was thinking about the presents, probably. She could remember being five and feeling that way.
Is it going to be bumper bowl or regular? she asked.
I don’t know.
Let’s hope it’s bumper, she said. You know how with some kids who don’t bowl as much as you, the ball is always going in the gutter? They can get discouraged.
Uh-huh.
What flavor cake did Poppy get? Yellow or chocolate?
He didn’t answer her. Sissy, he said, in that same husky whisper. I’m getting a very special surprise today.
I know, she told him. Wait till you see. You’re going to love it.
I’ve been so good, he told her. The best I ever was.
They had to go. She said a quick hello to Josh.
Say hi to Kate, she told him. Good luck with the pirates.
It was a fairly big day at her house, too. The office building where Carolyn and Violet had installed the cactus garden was having its grand opening. Garrett and Wendy were heading over that morning with Carolyn to make sure everything was in good shape. They were picking up Violet and Walter Charles on the way.
Carolyn was wearing her jeans, on the chance that she might have to do a little last-minute work on the plants, but she had put on makeup and curled her hair. The front pieces were pulled back, held in place with the hair clip Wendy had given her.
You look really nice, Wendy said.
I got you a little something, Garrett said to Carolyn. This was unusual. He wasn’t much on presents generally. He handed her a small box, unwrapped.
Garrett, she said. She wasn’t the type to get worked up, but you could tell this really got to her.
He’d had business cards printed up. “Carolyn’s Cactus World,” they said. “Professional plantings for home and office. Just because they’re prickly doesn’t mean we’ll stick it to you!” Then the phone number, which was his.
I figured it made sense, he said. Looks like you’re going to be over here more than at your place. Not that we mind, right, Slim?
That’s the most thoughtful thing, she said. I never would have expected.
Me neither, he said.
The opening went well. Violet also wore work clothes, and she had brought her own trowel. She had Walter Charles in a backpack, rather than the infant carrier she’d had at the beginning. This way, it’s easier to work on the plants while I’m carrying him around, she said.
The garden was beautiful, so everyone said. At Harvey’s Cactus World, the plants were stuck in a mostly random way in whatever patch of dirt seemed to be free. Carolyn’s garden was like an artwork. Garrett said that looking at it reminded him of when he did acid back in the seventies. To Wendy, it was almost like something you’d expect to see at the bottom of the ocean—that strange and exotic. But dry.
Four different people came up to Carolyn during the opening, wanting to know if she had time to take on other jobs. Let me give you our card, she said. A little ways off, Violet was also answering questions about the plants.
This particular garden contains specimens that wouldn’t react that great to rain, she was saying. But we have a lot of others back at our main nursery that would do fine in a space like what you’re talking about.
Driving home, they didn’t say much, but Carolyn couldn’t stop smiling.
Violet, she said. I hope you’re up for sticking with this for a while, because I could definitely use your help.
They stopped at a restaurant on the way home, not the diner this time, but more of a real restaurant. Man, I hope Walter Charles behaves, Violet said.
He did.
It was eight o’clock when they got home. Late to call New York, but she wanted to know how Louie’s party had gone. Josh was up. He picked up on the first ring.
Oh, Wendy, he said. It’s been rough here.
What do you mean? Did something happen at the bowling alley?
The bowling part went fine. Nobody cried, since we had bumpers up, so even the worst bowlers knocked down a few pins. Roberto and Omar were great. Kate, too. Everyone loved their swords, particularly the girls. They said nobody ever gave them a sword before.
The presents? she asked.
That went fine, he told her. Louie didn’t seem to be all that much interested, like his mind was someplace else.
The trouble came later, he told her. Everyone had gone home. Kate and I took him back to the apartment to give him the train.
Close your eyes, Louie, they told him. It’s time for your surprise now.
He was standing there in the kitchen, waiting for us to lead him into the living room, where we had the train set up. Walking him through the doorway, I could feel how his whole body was trembling.
When we got in the room and he opened his eyes, he just stared. Kate had turned the train on, so it was going around. Through the tunnel, over the bridge, steam coming out. He didn’t even seem to see it, though. He just kept looking around the room.
Where is she? he said.
Who?
Mama.
What do you mean, Louie? I bent over to put my arms around him, seeing the look on his face, but I couldn’t get to him. He started running all around the room, knocking the train down, flinging pillows.
He kept saying the same thing over and over. My mama was supposed to be here. I was sure.
Oh, Josh.
I never saw your brother like this before, he told her. Even after I got to him it took all my strength to keep him from breaking free of my arms. He was crying so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. I never heard a sound come out of him like that before. Like some animal that’s been shot.
Kate tried to comfort him, too, but that was even worse. He started screaming at her to go away. All this time, she’s been so great to him. It seemed like she was the one person he was really happy with, more than me even. He kicked and threw things at her face. You’re not my mama, he said.
I know that, Louie, she told him.
He told her he wished she was dead. I wish it was you in that building, he said. Get away from my pop.
She had to leave, that was all there was to it, Josh said. He was just going crazy. He was still very worked up after she left. All I could do for an hour—maybe longer—was sit there holding him. I could feel his heart pounding. His body was still shaking. He was burning up.
I finally got him in bed. I didn’t try to put his pajamas on or anything. I just lay down next to him in the dark, stroking his head. After a long time, he could talk.
So what happened?
It was that day at the magic show with Kate that got him started, Josh told her. That woman who helped him when he was in the box up onstage.
Miss Sparkle, Wendy said. They had all heard the story. The magician cutting the box in half, the flashlight and the jelly beans. Louie’s bow. The magic wand.
It was the wand. She told him he should save it for his birthday. She told him if he was really good he might get his wish.
There was no need to ask what he’d wished for.
Wendy got home from school to find a note from Carolyn on the counter.
Your mom’s friend Kate called. She’s on her way to Hawaii, but she’s stopping to see you. She said she’s renting a car at the airport and driving up tonight. She wants to take you out to dinner.
An hour later Kate was on the doorstep. Like Wendy, she was thinner, and her hair had grown
, but her face was as familiar to Wendy as any she had known, besides her parents and her brother.
Why don’t we go someplace? Kate said. They got in the car.
Neither one of them was hungry, so they drove to a place Wendy knew from her days riding around on her father’s bike—a field that looked out over the hills in the shade of a bunch of almond trees. They sat on the grass.
I’m moving, Kate told her.
Where?
Hawaii, for now. My brother has a place on the Big Island. I figure I can pick up a restaurant job for a while and see how it goes. I just needed to get out of New York.
You’ve lived there a long time, Wendy said. As long as she’d known Kate.
It was never a choice so much, she said. More of a habit. Your mom was there, and you guys. Which was basically my family. Only it wasn’t completely, which is what I came to see. I was borrowing your mother’s life.
We liked having you around. You were the best friend my mom ever had. Way more like a sister than Aunt Pam.
I know, she said. But your mother’s not there anymore.
I don’t know if I can talk about this with you, Wendy, she said. But I feel like if I don’t, you’ll never understand, and you might feel like I’d abandoned your dad and your brother just when they needed me the most.
I guess I fell in love with Josh. Or thought I did. Probably I fell in love with the whole package of your family. Going to the park with Louie, having meals together, reading to him. Feeling like someone really needed me for once. All those years of putting my energy into these dumb relationships with New York City bachelor types, and here I was now, spending my Saturday nights with Josh and Louie, watching Herbie Goes to Monte Carlo and loving it.
I swear it was never anything I thought about for one second when your mother was alive. I was just glad to see Janet happy like that, finally. Seeing Janet and Josh just made me feel hopeful that I could find someone like that, too, someday. But I never meant it to actually be him.
The Usual Rules Page 36