Christopher's Diary: Secrets of Foxworth

  “Our children? Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself? There’s a proposal and a honeymoon in my story,” I said.

  He laughed, took my hand, and walked me back to the stairway. “My mother imagines she’s Scarlett O’Hara going down those stairs some days. I’ve caught her fantasizing, and she was embarrassed and confessed that was exactly what she was doing as she descended the stairway. She’s infatuated with that novel and movie. That’s why our house was built to look a little like Tara. Everyone wants to step out of their life and be someone else, at least for a day. My mother would like to be someone else forever.”

  “Why? She has so much now.”

  “She never has enough,” he said dryly.

  “What about you? Do you want to be someone else, too?’

  “Not lately, not now,” he said. “I’m happy just being in my own shoes.” He leaned in to kiss me.

  We descended holding hands, and I couldn’t help it, I felt like a princess walking with her prince. It wasn’t hard to be like his mother and fantasize that I was someone very special to help people enjoy a very special party.

  Most of those invited to Kane’s party did treat it like a very special invitation. Many of his close buddies in school, boys on teams with him, and some of the girls in the senior class had been here for much smaller events, as he had said, but always with his parents at home, too. This was his first time without even the housekeeper. However, Kane was very good at protecting his home, declaring what was out of bounds. He wanted everyone to be confined to what I was freely calling the ballroom. The girls who were my friends wanted to assist in bringing out the food and drinks. Kane was firm about no alcohol or drugs, and not only because his father had laid down the law. Recently, Don Hudson, a senior, had a house party that his parents were unaware of, and one of the boys, Ryan Bynes, drank too much and got into an automobile accident five minutes after he left. An elderly woman was seriously injured, and the police were at Don’s house less than a half hour later. His parents needed a lawyer.

  Once the novelty of being at the biggest estate in the city wore off, many of the kids became bored and were wandering about aimlessly. Tina Kennedy kept annoying me with “So when’s the real party going to start?”

  I heard some complaining that without booze freely pouring or someone passing around “something,” it was “like a chaperoned school party.” Neither the music nor the food was holding their attention. An hour into it, some broke off to find excitement somewhere else. Before eleven, the crowd was dwindling. Those who were already paired off left to be by themselves. I heard Steve Cooper suggest a group of them go up to Foxworth for kicks. I stepped in quickly.

  “My father has been working on demolishing and removing what’s left of the debris up there. It’s fenced off now. There’s lots of dangerous material lying around.”

  They all looked at me strangely.

  “Whatever,” Steve said.

  “She oughtta know that it’s dangerous up there,” Tina said. Lana had already told me she was quite jealous of my being with Kane.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kane asked, coming out of nowhere and practically pouncing on her. She backed off quickly.

  “Nothing. Jeez,” she said. “Let’s go somewhere fun while the night’s still young.”

  She and those with her were the only ones who left without thanking Kane.

  “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,” Kane muttered after them. “Don’t even ask,” he told me immediately. “I never even had interest in getting to first base with her.”

  Lana and Suzette remained behind to help with the cleanup. After they left and we were alone, Kane said Curtis would clear the room tomorrow before his parents returned.

  “I guess we did all right,” he added. “Nothing broken.”

  I saw that he was a little down. “It was a great party, Kane.”

  “Right. I don’t know what some of my so-called friends expected. Dancing girls? I wasn’t going to open my father’s bar. I made that clear to everyone for days. You didn’t see it, but asshole Barsto brought something he was passing around. I invited him to leave.”

  “Oh. I missed that.”

  “Probably the earliest end to a party this year.”

  “Not for us,” I said, and he looked at me oddly for a moment and then smiled.

  “What’s your curfew?”

  “My father never set one. He depends on me to be responsible. I know he’ll be waiting up no matter what, so I don’t want to push it, but another hour won’t do any harm.”

  “In that case . . .”

  He began shutting down lights and took my hand to lead me into the den, where there was the pool table, books, and another of what must be at least a dozen televisions. There was a very comfortable, soft leather settee. He poured us both some ginger ale, which was what we had been drinking all night, and sat beside me.

  “I shouldn’t have bothered with the party,” he said. “All I wanted here was you.”

  “Not everyone was a dumbass, Kane. Most had a good time.”

  “I spent too much of my time being a host. I don’t think we danced three times.”

  “You’re right, it was two.”

  He sipped his soda and looked at me. “I think I figured out what’s different about you, Kristin.”

  “And that is?”

  “You’re more mature. Not in a stuffy sort of way. You’re more stable, secure. You’re not arrogant about it, but you’re a few hundred miles above your girlfriends, above just about every other girl in school, as a matter of fact. That used to intimidate me, but now I find it fascinating. I feel more mature being with you.” He put down his drink. “Duh! I sound stupid, I know.”

  The first thing that came to my mind was that those were words I could imagine some girl saying to Christopher.

  “Things happen that force you to be older than you’d like, Kane.”

  “Yes, I know. I know the reason. I’m sorry for that, but I’m not sorry that you are who you are. I think I can trust you, depend on you, be confident being with you, and I can’t say that about any other girl in our school.”

  He took my glass from me and put it down, then kissed me with such passion that I could feel the tingle travel down my spine and wake the sexual energy in me, nudge it, opening me like a flower longing to blossom, a flower feasting on the sunshine.

  His hands moved over my body gently. I lay back and then slowly began to slip under him. He was kissing my cheeks, my neck, before going back time after time to my lips, as if that kiss gave him the fuel, the energy, the permission to return to my neck and then my shoulders, as his hands smoothly lifted my blouse and his lips traced along my stomach and up and over my breasts.

  “Kristin,” he whispered. “I can’t stop dreaming about you.”

  He fingered the clasp on my bra and lifted it slowly away from my breasts, touching my nipples with the tip of his tongue. I could feel myself sliding deeper and deeper down into the place where your resistance weakens. Was this it? Was this going to be my first time? His finger went to the buttons on my jeans. I didn’t stop him, but I couldn’t help the small sob, the tension that came into my body, and the way I simply froze.

  He paused. “How far do you want to go?” he asked softly. I had the feeling that it was a question he didn’t bother asking other girls he had been with. “I’m prepared,” he added.

  “Not that far. Not yet,” I said.

  He nodded, kissed me quickly on the lips, and then sat back and looked thoughtful.

  “What?” I asked.

  “What makes some girls so easy about that decision?”

  “It’s never a problem for boys?”

  “It is if they don’t think ahead and get both of them in trouble.”

  “Girls don’t always get into trouble doing it, Kane.”

  “I know that, too, but the risk is much bigger, don’t you think?”

  “So you’ve answered your own question.” br />
  “Not really. That’s why some girls might not want to do it if their boyfriends are unprepared, but that’s all it answers.”

  “Maybe you should attend the girls’ session of health class,” I said.

  “I’m not sure Mrs. Kirkwood would let me in.”

  “There are many answers, I guess. How you’re brought up is one. Some girls think of it as some accomplishment, a step into maturity or something.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I think of it as more of a commitment. No, I don’t want you to give me an engagement ring, but I don’t want to just hook up or something. I know some girls who think being as casual about it as boys makes them equal or something.”

  He nodded. “I thought you’d have an intelligent answer. No,” he said, holding his hands up and standing, “don’t ask me to try again or ask you to stay over.” We looked at each other, and then we both laughed at the obvious reverse psychology attempt. At least he wasn’t as crude and immature as most of the boys I knew at school.

  “I guess I’d better get going,” I said. I straightened myself out, checked myself in the closest powder room, and joined him in the kitchen.

  “Can I take you somewhere tomorrow night? To dinner, a movie?”

  “I’ll check my schedule.”

  He looked stunned.

  “Just kidding, Kane. Yes, I’d like that.”

  He nodded. “I was right about you. You’re different.” He took my hand and led me out to the garage. He opened the car door for me and got in. We backed out and started down the long driveway.

  Maybe I was different, I thought. Maybe that was why I was so fascinated with Christopher’s diary. I thought too much. I analyzed everything and was always afraid my fantasizing would make me too vulnerable. I was not willing to forgive people, especially boys, their little faults, their small dishonesties. Was that good, or would I end up alone in some room as despondent as Christopher in the attic?

  Dad was happy I didn’t stay out too late. Despite how subtle he wanted to be about it, he stayed up waiting for me, most likely watching the clock and pretending to be so interested in what he was watching on television that he couldn’t go to bed.

  “Have a good time?” he asked as soon as I stepped into the living room. I was sure if I asked him what he was watching and what had just happened, he wouldn’t know.

  “Yes, very.”

  “Quite a house, eh?”

  “That and then some,” I said, which was another of his responses to questions like that.

  He laughed. “Everyone behave?”

  “Wouldn’t be a party if everyone did, but actually, yes. Kane saw to that,” I said.

  “Good.”

  “Unfortunately, some thought not being raucous was boring,” I added, “and they left early.”

  “Oh. But not you?”

  “I had more reason to stay,” I said, and he laughed.

  “Oh? Care to elaborate a bit?”

  “No,” I said, and he laughed again. “I’m going up,” I told him.

  “Just want to see the end of this,” he said, nodding at the television.

  I gave him a kiss and left him pretending to know what he was watching.

  I had told myself I would avoid reading the diary before I went to sleep tonight. I should have been too tired. I was tired, but I was also restless. Kane’s telling me about his sister witnessing the second fire and some of the comments his parents had made about it and the first fire had stirred up so many different feelings that I felt my nerves were like sparklers.

  I slipped my hand under my pillow and brought out the diary. Before I turned the page, I listened to my father’s footsteps. He lumbered along to his bedroom, and the lights in the hallway dimmed.

  Now it was just the Dollanganger children and me again.

  It was clear now that we’d be locked up here until our grandfather died. Cathy was more despondent than ever. I had my work cut out for me: how to keep her spirits and the twins’ spirits up, how to keep them all occupied. Cathy wasn’t stupid. She would spot insincerity very quickly. But I had another ability that came in very handy now. I could will myself to believe in something. I wasn’t like other people who fool themselves or lie to themselves. I knew how to dress up something I doubted so that I looked convinced about it, but I had something people who lie to themselves don’t have. I knew what I was doing. I knew the truth, and I could retreat to it whenever I wanted to or had to. Maybe that sounds arrogant, but to me, it’s just a statement of fact.

  “He could live forever,” Cathy moaned almost immediately. “We’re doomed, Christopher. No one else knows we’re up here. All of my friends are probably calling each other for news, and maybe some of them are asking their parents to call the police! I hope they do. I hope there’s a nationwide search for us, and our pictures are put on post office walls. People locked up like this go mad and even shrink. I read it in a magazine.”

  “Stop the dramatics,” I told her in our father’s most assertive voice. Her eyes widened. “It’s not going to be anywhere near that bad. Our grandfather is suffering from heart disease. That means his arteries are blocked with something called plaque. If—not if, I should say when—a piece of that breaks free, he’ll have a heart attack and die on the spot. We’re so far away from the city that by the time the ambulance arrives, he’ll be long gone.”

  “He has a nurse around the clock. He’s rich. Maybe he has an ambulance parked out front all the time.”

  “Nurses aren’t doctors, and they can’t possibly have all the life-saving machinery hospitals have, Cathy, no matter how rich he is. The man is in critical condition. It’s classic intensive care. He should be in a hospital. He obviously wants to die at home. He knows himself that he hasn’t got long to go.”

  She looked at me askance.

  “Think about it,” I added even more strongly. “If Grandmother Olivia didn’t believe it herself, she wouldn’t have permitted us to come here in the first place. You see the way she treats Momma. She doesn’t have much faith in Momma’s ability to win back her father’s love. His death is the only thing that makes sense. It’s impending.”

  She squinted.

  “Impending, imminent, can happen any time.”

  “In the meanwhile?”

  “In the meanwhile . . .” I looked around. “Let’s do some fun things. Why don’t we stage a play? You love dramatics. You write it, and I’ll act in it, and the twins will be our audience. We certainly have enough material for costumes.” I held my breath. Would she buy into it?

  “You always made fun of my interest in acting.”

  “I was teasing you. Brothers tease their sisters all the time. That’s what it means to be a brother, but if anyone could succeed as an actress, it’s you. You have a flair for it.”

  “Are you just saying that to shut me up?”

  “No. I believe it. I’m always telling you to stop being dramatic. I just did.”

  She thought a moment. “All right. I want to do ‘Gone with the Wind,’ ” she said without any hesitation.

  “ ‘Gone with the Wind’? The whole thing?”

  It didn’t surprise me. She had sat watching that with Momma more than once, and afterward, both she and Momma pretended they lived in the South and were Southern belles. Momma loved playing Scarlett O’Hara, and Cathy loved imitating her. Momma gave her a book about “Gone with the Wind,” and she would often sit and thumb through it, sometimes reciting lines she had memorized. At the time, I thought it was all foolish, but I kept my opinion to myself. I was very glad now that I had.

  “No, just some scenes, but you have to do exactly as I say. Of course, I’ll be Scarlett O’Hara, and you’ll have to play Rhett Butler.”

  “You’re the writer and the director,” I told her, looking as serious about it as I could, and she suddenly looked even less irritated. Her eyes widened with her thoughts. She took off immediately to sift through the old clothes and hats.

  The tw
ins didn’t understand what we were doing at first, but just seeing Cathy so animated and interested captured their attention, and for a while, they weren’t moaning and groaning. Even Carrie, who hated going up to the attic, followed Cathy around, trying to do something to help whatever it was she was planning.

  Seeing how my idea had captured their interest, I went ahead and built a mock stage, creating curtains with ropes and blankets. Cathy surprised me with her inventiveness. She used some of the dress mannequins as characters, finding costumes for them, giving them names, and having Cory and Carrie help her set up her scene. They thought it was fun to talk to the mannequins and call them by the names Cathy had remembered from the movie. Then she sat and scribbled lines on a pad.

  I had obviously unleashed some of her stifled fantasies. Although I thought it was all quite childish to continue, I had to get into it with the same sort of energy, or they would all lose interest. She found my Rhett Butler costume, which I had to admit was creative: cream-colored trousers (I had to roll up the legs), a brown velvet jacket with pearl buttons, and a satin vest with red roses all over it. The moment I put it all on, I turned to her and, in my best Rhett Butler imitation, pleaded, “Come quickly, Scarlett. We’ve got to escape from Atlanta before Sherman reaches here and sets the city ablaze!”

  The twins’ eyes were suddenly full of greater excitement. This was make-believe like they had never seen it, especially with me participating.

  “There’s going to be a fire?” Cory cried.