Just as Long as We're Together Page 14

  “I didn’t know Carla’s having a party.”

  “Yes,” Mom said, “and I told her I’d come in for the weekend to give her a hand.”

  “Who’s coming to this party?” I asked.

  “Carla’s friends.”

  “Women and men?”

  “Yes,” Mom said, “of course.”

  “Married and divorced?”

  “I really don’t know. I imagine there will be some of each.”

  “And you’re going to wear those earrings?”

  “Yes,” Mom said, “but I’m also going to wear a dress and shoes and …”

  “This is it, isn’t it?” I asked.

  “This is what?”

  “You’re going to New York to have your fling.”

  Mom threw back her head and laughed. The earrings danced around her face.

  “It’s not funny!” I said. I hate it when I’m being serious and Mom thinks it’s a big joke.

  But Mom couldn’t stop laughing. Finally, she managed to say, “Sorry … it just struck me as funny that you should be worried about me having a fling.” She gulped, holding back another laugh.

  “I’m not worried!” I told her. “I never worry! I just don’t like the idea of you with some guy. I’ll probably hate him as much as I hate Iris.”

  “I didn’t know you hate Iris,” Mom said, quietly.

  “Well, now you know. It may be fun for you and Dad to have your flings but it’s not fun for Bruce and me.”

  “I’m sorry, Steph … I keep forgetting this is hard on you.”

  “People who are separated are supposed to be miserable,” I told her.

  “On some days I am,” Mom said, “but I try to keep busy and not give in to it.”

  I thought about how I do the same thing.

  “Look …” Mom said, “I need to get out and be with people. That’s all there is to it.” She took off her new earrings and dropped them into her jewelry box. “So would you rather spend the weekend at Aunt Denise’s or with a friend?”

  “With a friend,” I said.

  As I was getting ready for bed I decided I’d ask Alison if I could spend the weekend at her house.

  “It’s all set,” Mom said, when she came to my room to say goodnight. “Nell Robinson would love to have you for the weekend.”

  “But Mom … I was going to ask Alison.”

  Mom shook her head. “I assumed when you said you wanted to stay with a friend you meant Rachel.”

  “You should have asked me first,” I told her.

  “I can see that now,” Mom said, rescuing Wile E. Coyote from the floor. She set him on my chair. “You don’t mind going to Rachel’s, do you?”

  “It’s not that I mind …”

  “Good …” Mom said, before I’d finished. “Because it would be awkward to try to explain to Nell now. Besides, I’ll feel more comfortable knowing you’re at the Robinsons’.”

  “I keep telling you that Gena Farrell is just a regular person,” I said. “You don’t have to be afraid of her.”

  “I’m not the least bit afraid of her,” Mom said. “It’s just that I’ve known Nell longer.”

  I happen to know that Mom thinks of Gena Farrell as a famous TV star, not as Alison’s mother. One time, when Gena came by our house to pick up Alison, Mom talked too fast and offered Gena a cup of tea at least ten times, until finally Gena said, “Thanks … I’d love a cup.” Alison says that just because Gena is famous and beautiful people don’t treat her the same as they would somebody else. And that makes her feel uncomfortable.

  Bruce understands. He told me he’s sick of being famous. The other night he said, “It was fun for a few days but I never want to see another reporter. I hate their dumb questions. And I’m never entering another contest. From now on I just want to be a regular kid and play with David after school.”

  “But if you had it to do over again, would you still enter this contest?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” Bruce said. “Because it wasn’t that bad meeting the President and having cocoa at the White House.”

  At the bus stop the next morning Rachel said, “I hear you’re coming for the weekend.”

  “Yes,” I told her. “Mom is going to New York to help her friend give a party.”

  “So what do you want to do?” Rachel asked.

  “I don’t know … whatever you want to do.”

  “I was planning on rehearsing a new piece with Stacey Green but I can cancel,” Rachel said.

  “You don’t have to cancel,” I told her. “I can do something else while you’re rehearsing.”

  “Really … you wouldn’t mind?” Rachel asked.

  “No … when are you going to rehearse?”

  “Friday night.”

  “We can go to the movies,” Alison said to me. “And you can sleep over at my house.”

  “No,” Rachel said. “My mother’s looking forward to having Steph stay at our house.”

  Her mother is looking forward to having me stay? I thought. I guess that proved Mrs. Robinson hadn’t discussed Rachel’s weekend plans with her, either.

  “And don’t forget …” Alison said, “on Saturday we’re going shopping for the Ground Hog Day dance.”

  “I won’t forget,” Rachel said. “I’m going to get something really wild!”

  “What do you mean by wild?” I asked.

  “You know,” Rachel said. “Wild!”

  Like Mom’s earrings, I thought.

  Getting Even

  Dad called. “I got your letter and essay, Steph.”

  “Just forget about it,” I told him.

  “I don’t want to forget about it,” Dad said. “It took me a while to digest everything you said but now I think I understand.”

  “There’s nothing to understand. I was in a weird mood that day … that’s all.”

  “No … it was foolish of me to expect you and Bruce to accept Iris on such short notice,” Dad said.

  “You mean on no notice.”

  I could hear Dad sigh. “I should have told you about her before you came.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “I understand now that you and Mom have to have your flings.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing … just that after this weekend you and Mom will be even.”

  “What are you talking about?” Dad said. “What’s this about Rowena having a fling?”

  I could tell from the change in his voice that he didn’t like the idea at all. So I added, “You should see the earrings she got for Carla’s party. They’re really wild!”

  “Put Mom on the phone,” Dad said.

  “She’s not here.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She drove Bruce over to Aunt Denise’s. Uncle Richard’s taking him and Howard to a hockey game.”

  “Ask her to call as soon as she gets back,” Dad said.

  “She might be too busy packing for the weekend,” I told him.

  “Well … tell her I called.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Steph …” Dad said, “about your birthday …”

  I was glad to hear he remembered.

  “I’m thinking of flying in for the weekend.”

  No! I thought. I don’t want him flying in for the weekend. Look how excited I had been about Thanksgiving and then he came home and spoiled everything with his news about the separation. I don’t want any bad news over my birthday weekend! So I said, “I’m going to be really busy. We’re having a dance at school on Friday night and on Saturday Gran Lola and Papa Jack are taking Rachel, Alison and me to a play. And on Sunday Mom’s having the family over for cake. She’s already ordered it … it’s going to have purple roses …”

  “Maybe I should wait until spring break,” Dad said.

  “That would be better.”

  “But I’m sending your birthday surprise now.”

  “What is it?”

  “If I tell you it won’t be a surprise.”


  Probably another sweatshirt, I thought.

  Sleep-over

  On Friday morning at the bus stop Dana held out her arm and the bracelet was gone. “This time it’s for good!” she told us.

  “What happened?” Alison asked.

  “He says he wants to be free to go out with other girls … like Marcella.”

  “Don’t worry,” Rachel said, “it’s probably just sexual attraction.”

  “Please don’t say that!” Dana started to cry.

  “All she means is that Jeremy’s had a lot of experience,” I said, trying to make Dana feel better.

  “How do you know that?” Dana stared at me.

  “Because he’s got …” I was going to say “hairy legs” but Rachel kicked me.

  “What Stephanie means,” Rachel said, “is that some boys are so interested in sex they forget about everything else. He’ll come to his senses one of these days.”

  “I don’t know,” Dana said, blowing her nose. “I’m very confused. My friends tell me he’s trying to make me jealous. They say he’s trying to pressure me into going further than I want to go.”

  “You should never allow yourself to be pressured into having sex,” Rachel said, sounding like an expert.

  “That’s right,” I added, as if I knew all about it, too.

  “Absolutely,” Alison agreed.

  “Your generation is just amazing!” Dana told us. “When I was your age I didn’t know anything.”

  That night at the movie theater I bought a small container of popcorn. So did Alison but she got hers with butter and I didn’t. As soon as we sat down I found out that popcorn without butter is very dry. It sticks in your throat. I started choking on the first piece I ate. So I excused myself to go back to the lobby for a drink of water. The people in our row had to stand to let me out. After I got a drink I stood on the refreshment line again, this time to have my popcorn buttered. It’s probably not real butter anyway, I told myself, remembering my promise to Mom—that I’d watch what I ate over the weekend. It’s probably just something to wet down the popcorn so you can eat it without choking to death.

  While I was waiting Jeremy Dragon came into the theater with Marcella. She was wearing the tightest jeans I’d ever seen, tucked into white cowboy boots. And she was chewing bubble gum. I hoped she’d blow a bubble big enough to get stuck in her eye makeup.

  By the time my popcorn was buttered the lights had gone down inside the theater and I had trouble spotting Alison. But I didn’t have any trouble spotting Jeremy and Marcella. They were sitting in the last row, over on the side, and they were already making out. I wondered what Marcella had done with her bubble gum. Or did she kiss with it still in her mouth? No, she was the type who’d stick it under her seat.

  By the time I found Alison the movie had begun. Everyone in our row had to stand so I could pass. As soon as I was seated I told Alison about Jeremy and Marcella. The woman behind us tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Shush …”

  Right after the opening scene Alison whispered, “I’m going out for a drink.”

  I nodded. Everyone had to stand again, as Alison made her way to the end of our row.

  She was gone for at least ten minutes and when she came back the man on her other side said, “Will you girls either quit running around or find yourselves some other seats!” So the two of us got up and went to look for other seats.

  We stood at the back of the theater for a while, watching Jeremy and Marcella, until the usher told us that we either had to find seats or leave the theater. The only seats we could find were in the first row. We were so close to the screen we had to strain our necks to see. The movie wasn’t worth it.

  After, we went to the frozen yogurt place, where Leon was going to pick us up at ten. I ordered a cup of pineapple yogurt. That’s about as simple as you get. Alison had her favorite—a PeachBerry Smoothie. As we were waiting for our orders Jeremy and Marcella came in. “Hey, Macbeth …” Jeremy called, “enjoy the show?”

  I was really surprised. First of all I didn’t know he’d seen us in the theater. Second of all I didn’t know which show he meant—the movie or the show he and Marcella had put on. So I just looked at him and said, “I’ve seen better.”

  He laughed. “I’ll bet.”

  Marcella ordered a waffle cone with pecan praline yogurt. She didn’t speak to either one of us.

  When Leon pulled up, twenty minutes later, he asked Alison to run back inside to buy a quart of pistachio to go. “Gena’s got a craving for pistachio,” he told me, as I got into the back seat of the car.

  Rachel was sitting up in bed, reading, when I got to her house. Her face was covered with some kind of white goo.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “It’s a mask,” Rachel said. “It dries up your skin so you won’t break out.”

  “You sleep with it?”

  “No, you wash it off after fifteen minutes. So how was the movie?”

  “I’ve seen better,” I told her. “But Jeremy and Marcella were there … making out.”

  “Making out in public is so disgusting!” Rachel said.

  “I know. It was very embarrassing to have to watch them kiss.”

  “You actually saw them kiss?”

  “Yes, more than once,” I told her. “So how was rehearsal with Stacey?”

  “Frustrating. We tried a really hard piece,” Rachel said. “So how did they kiss?”

  “The usual way.”

  “French?”

  “I wasn’t that close,” I said.

  “I’ll never make out at the movies for the whole town to see,” Rachel said.

  “Me neither.”

  “If you feel like reading there’s a really good book on my desk.”

  I walked over to Rachel’s desk. “Which one?” I asked. There was a whole stack.

  “It’s called Gone With the Wind” Rachel said. “You’ll like it. It’s very romantic.”

  “I’m not into romances the way I was last year,” I told her.

  “This isn’t like some teenage romance,” she said. “This is the real thing.”

  I thumbed through the book. “It’s very long.”

  “But it goes fast once you get into it.”

  “I think I’ll wait a while to try this one.”

  “Okay,” Rachel said, yawning. “I’ll wash off my mask … then we can go to sleep.”

  I got undressed while Rachel was in the bathroom. If only we were as close as we used to be, I thought, I would tell her about my parents. I wish I could … I wish I could tell her and Alison. I hate having to keep secrets from my best friends. I’ve never kept a secret from Rachel before and until this year she’s never kept one from me. But everything is different between us now. I can’t explain it but I can feel it.

  I pulled my nightgown over my head, then settled into my sleeping bag, which was spread out on a foam pad on the rug. It would be easy to tell Alison about my parents, I thought. She’d understand, especially since she’s been through it herself. But I could never tell her without telling Rachel, too.

  Rachel came back and got into bed. “ ‘Night,” she said, turning out the light.

  “Rachel …”

  “Yeah?”

  “Remember when we used to play dress-up with your parents’ terry robes … pretending they were strapless gowns … and we’d stuff the tops with socks and tie the belts underneath …”

  “Uh huh.”

  “And remember when we decided to cook dinner for my parents and we burned the bottoms of the pots?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “And that day your new mattress came …” I began, trying to laugh. “Remember how we jumped up and down on it pretending it was a trampoline?”

  “All of that was a long time ago, Steph …”

  “I know … but don’t you ever think about all the fun we used to have?”

  “Not that much.” She rolled over in bed.

  I bit my lip, scared I might cry. I thoug
ht, Rachel doesn’t want to be my best friend anymore. She probably wants to be best friends with Stacey Green.

  Burt snuggled next to my legs. His purring put me to sleep. In the middle of the night he and Harry must have changed places because when I woke up on Saturday morning Harry was next to me and Burt was gone.

  Rachel was already dressed and sitting at her desk.

  “What are you doing up so early?” I asked. “It’s Saturday.”

  “I like to get my homework out of the way on Saturday morning,” Rachel said. “Then I have the rest of the weekend free to enjoy myself.”

  I rolled over thinking that I’m just the opposite. I always let my homework go until Sunday night. Rachel and I are opposites in so many ways.

  By the time we went down to breakfast Mr. and Mrs. Robinson were getting ready to leave. Every Saturday morning they go for a hike in Devil’s Den. If there’s snow they take their crosscountry skis. I wished my parents would find something to do together.

  Mrs. Robinson was tying up her boots. “It’s good to have you here, Steph … you’ve been such a stranger lately.”

  What did she mean by that? “It’s just that junior high keeps us so busy,” I said.

  Mr. Robinson kind of patted my head. “Don’t let yourself get so busy you forget your friends.”

  I looked at Rachel but she was slicing a banana into her cereal.

  “So I’ll pick you up at the bank around five,” Mr. Robinson said to us, as he wrapped a plaid scarf around his neck.

  “We’ll be there,” Rachel said.

  After breakfast Rachel changed the litter in Burt and Harry’s box, then she cleaned her room. She dusted everything and vacuumed everywhere, including under her bed. She sprayed Windex on her mirror and the insides of her windows. She rearranged all her dresser drawers and made sure her closet was perfect.

  “This must be the cleanest, neatest room in Palfrey’s Pond,” I said, “maybe even in all of Fairfield County.”

  “I like my room to be clean,” Rachel said.

  “Is Stacey Green like you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know … does she clean her room and keep her drawers and closet the way you do?”