Just as Long as We're Together

  “I never did that before,” he confessed.

  “Neither did I.”

  “Let’s do it again,” he said.

  “Okay.” This time I was careful to keep my lips closed. I wasn’t taking any chances that our braces would get stuck together. I didn’t get the same kind of tingles from kissing Peter as I do from standing close to Jeremy Dragon or pretending that Benjamin Moore is my boyfriend, but kissing him felt warm and friendly.

  Peter left as soon as he spotted his mother’s car. I stood alone for a minute, thinking about everything that had happened to me tonight.

  “Oh, there you are,” Alison said. “I had the best time! Eric kissed me goodnight.”

  “Peter kissed me, too.”

  “Eric kissed me twice.”

  “Same here.”

  “Do you think they planned it?” Alison asked.

  “Did he tell you to look up at Orion?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Then they planned it.”

  “So … who cares?” we said at the same time. And then we laughed.

  Mom couldn’t believe I got my period. She was more excited than I was. “Come on, Mom …” I said, “it happens to every girl sooner or later.”

  “I know,” she said, sitting on my bed after the dance, “but it’s very special when it happens to your own daughter. I’m so proud of you, Steph!”

  “Just because I got my period?”

  “No … just because.” She was getting kind of teary and had to stop to blow her nose. “I just wish you and Rachel would make up. Nell stopped by tonight while you were at the dance. She left a package for you. I’ll go get it.”

  Mom came back to my room with a box wrapped in silver paper, tied with a purple ribbon. I opened the card. With love to the birthday girl, from all the Robinsons, it said in Mrs. Robinson’s handwriting. Inside the box was a long, white Victorian nightgown, the kind the girl in The Nutcracker wears. I’ve always wanted one. I held it up for Mom to see.

  “It’s beautiful,” she said. “Why don’t you phone and thank them.”

  “I’ll write a note instead,” I said.

  I called Dad the next morning to thank him for my birthday necklace. But I forgot about the time difference and I woke him. “Should I call back later?” I asked.

  “No … that’s okay.” He sounded groggy. I hoped Iris wasn’t there. “What time is it, anyway?”

  “It’s almost ten here so I guess it’s almost seven there.”

  He yawned. “I wanted to get up early today.”

  “I called to thank you for the necklace. It’s beautiful. I love amethyst.”

  “I’m glad. How was the dance?”

  “It was great!” I thought about telling him I got my period but decided against it. I didn’t want him blabbing it to Iris. It was none of her business. “By the way … you owe me five dollars.”

  “I do?”

  “Yes … you lost your bet.”

  “What bet?”

  “That Rachel and I would be best friends again by my birthday.”

  At eleven, Alison, Bruce and I took the train to New York. I asked Bruce to take Rachel’s place because it was too late to invite another friend from school. And, in a way, I was glad to take him. Bruce can be very good company. Also, he made a beautiful decoupage box for my birthday. Mom said he’d been working on it secretly for a month.

  Mrs. Robinson

  The following week there was another snowstorm and school was closed again. I spent the afternoon at Alison’s and as I walked home the sun began to set, turning the sky pink and purple. I breathed in the clean, fresh smell of the new snow. It had been a perfect afternoon. I began to hum a song I’d heard on Alison’s stereo. As I passed Rachel’s house I noticed Mrs. Robinson, trying to shovel her car out of a snowdrift. I should have walked the other way around the pond, I thought. I bent my head and walked faster but Mrs. Robinson saw me anyway.

  “Steph …” she called.

  I looked up as if I was really surprised. “Oh—hi, Mrs. Robinson. I didn’t see you.”

  She came toward me, carrying her snow shovel.

  “You need a hand with your car?” I asked.

  “No, it’s hopeless,” she said. “I’ll have to wait for the plow.” She kind of leaned on her shovel. “Thanks for your note. It was very sweet.”

  “I really like the nightgown,” I told her.

  “Rachel said you would.”

  I wish she hadn’t said Rachel’s name. Every time I hear it I get a pain in my stomach.

  “Stephanie …” Mrs. Robinson began, and I knew from the serious tone of her voice I didn’t want to hear what was coming. “What happened between you and Rachel?”

  “You’ll have to ask her,” I said.

  “I have … but she won’t tell me.”

  I didn’t know what to say so I just stood there, wishing Mrs. Robinson hadn’t seen me.

  “Surely you two can talk it over and make peace,” Mrs. Robinson said. “I know Rachel wants to be your friend. I know how important you are to her.”

  I looked away, to the Robinsons’ house. I thought I saw Rachel, watching us from her bedroom window.

  “She’s terribly hurt, Steph. You know how sensitive she is. You know how much she needs you.”

  “She needs me?” I said. Imagine Rachel needing anyone!

  “Yes,” Mrs. Robinson said, “she needs you very much. She depends on you.”

  “Did she tell you that?” I asked.

  “She doesn’t have to tell me. I can see it. Isn’t there anything I can do to help the two of you get back together?”

  I shook my head.

  “Your parents’ separation must be very hard on you and I don’t mean to make it worse,” Mrs. Robinson said.

  I wanted to tell her to shut up, that she had no business discussing my parents’ separation but she went right on talking. “Taking your anger out on Rachel isn’t fair, Steph.”

  “That’s what you think I’m doing?”

  “Am I wrong?” Mrs. Robinson asked.

  “Yes, you’re wrong!” I said, choking up.

  “Then I’m sorry.” She tried to put her arm around me but I pulled away and began to run. As I got closer to my house I tripped and landed in a snowdrift, soaking my jeans.

  “Can you believe Mrs. Robinson said that to me?” I asked Mom that night. “Can you believe she thinks I’m taking out my anger on Rachel? Have you ever heard such a stupid thing?”

  “Maybe she’s right,” Mom said. “Maybe that is what’s happening.”

  “Mom!”

  “Hasn’t this nonsense with Rachel gone on long enough? Why don’t you apologize, Steph?”

  “Me, apologize! For what? I wish you’d stop trying to get us back together!” I shouted. “This is our problem, not yours!” I ran upstairs and slammed my bedroom door. My perfect afternoon had been ruined!

  Dad called a few days later. “I thought you’d want to know,” he said, “as of May first I’m coming back to the New York office.”

  “What?” I asked, switching the phone from one ear to the other. “What did you say?”

  “I’ll be working out of the New York office beginning the first of May,” Dad said, slowly, as if we didn’t speak the same language.

  “Is Iris coming with you?”

  “Iris and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

  This was news to me! “Since before or after my birthday?”

  “Before,” Dad said. “But look, Steph … I don’t want you to blame yourself.”

  Blame myself? I thought.

  “I know that kids always blame themselves for these things,” Dad said.

  They do?

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Dad continued. “Iris and I finally sat down and talked it over and we realized we have different priorities.”

  “So you broke up?”

  “Please try not to feel guilty.”

  Feel guilty?

  “There w
as a lot more to our decision than what happened at Christmas.”

  Oh … Christmas. So that’s why he thought I’d feel guilty. My head was filled with questions. “Where will you live?” I asked. What I really meant was, Will you and Mom get back together? Will you come home? But it was too hard to come right out and say what was on my mind.

  “I’ll probably take an apartment in the city,” Dad said, “at least in the beginning.”

  What did that mean? “So you’ll be living in New York starting May first?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Life out here isn’t what I expected. And I miss you and Bruce very much. Once I’m in New York we’ll be able to see each other every week.”

  Every week? Did that mean he would come up here or Bruce and I would go to the city? My stomach started growling but I didn’t feel hungry.

  When I hung up I went to see Mom. “Did you know Dad’s coming back to the New York office?”

  Mom was at her computer. “Yes,” she said, quietly.

  “And his fling with Iris is over, too.”

  “Yes,” she said again.

  “So what does it mean?” I asked.

  “We don’t know yet, Steph. We’ve still got a lot of thinking to do.”

  “But you might get back together … right?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “But it’s a possibility, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose it’s a possibility … but it’s not likely.”

  “I hate not knowing what’s going to happen!” I shouted. “I’d almost rather know you’re getting a divorce. I want it to be settled one way or the other so I can get used to the idea, so I can stop thinking about it.”

  “I’m not going to lie to you, Steph,” Mom said. “We just don’t know …”

  “You’re supposed to be grown-ups,” I shouted at her, “so why can’t you make up your minds?” I ran to my room and slammed the door.

  This time Mom followed me. “I’m getting tired of your moody outbursts!” she shouted. “Other people live here too, you know. And it’s time you showed some concern for their feelings.”

  “I show a lot of concern for Bruce’s feelings!” I shouted back at her.

  Killer Flu

  In March everyone got the flu. Everyone but Alison and me. Rachel had it. Dana had it. Miri Levine and Peter Klaff have it and I think Eric Macaulay is coming down with it because he coughed all day today and fell asleep in homeroom, with his head on his desk. Mrs. Remo says if we develop symptoms we should definitely not come to school. I heard her tell Mr. Diamond, “They’re dropping like flies in my homeroom.”

  I called Peter to see how he was feeling.

  “This flu is a killer,” he said. “I cough half the night.”

  “Can’t your mother give you something?”

  “She’s working on it.”

  “When are you coming back to school?”

  “Not until I’m better, which at this rate means next fall.”

  “Well, cheer up,” I told him. “You’re not missing that much. Half the class is absent.”

  “Yeah … Mom says it’s an epidemic.”

  “Probably I’ll be next,” I said.

  “Then I’ll call you.”

  “Deal,” I said. The thing I like best about Peter is he’s not just a boy, he’s a friend.

  When Alison called a few nights later, in tears, I figured it was to tell me that she had the flu, too. But instead she said, “This is an emergency.” Her voice quivered. “I’ve got to see you right away.”

  “You want me to come over?” I asked. Never mind that it was close to nine on a school night and outside it was windy and raining. If Alison needed me I would go. That’s what friends are for.

  “I’ll come to your house,” Alison said.

  “Did somebody die?” I asked, thinking of Sadie Wishnik.

  “No …” Alison said, “nobody died.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  Alison came to the kitchen door carrying her overnight bag in one hand and Maizie tucked under her other arm. This was the first time Alison had brought Maizie to our house. I wondered why she’d picked a rainy night for Maizie’s first visit. And how come she was carrying an overnight bag.

  Maizie shook herself off, then sniffed around the kitchen.

  Alison took off her wet slicker and hung it over the back of a kitchen chair. Her eyes were red and puffy.

  “What’s wrong?” I said.

  “Where’s your mother?”

  “In her room. Why?”

  “Where’s Bruce?”

  “He’s upstairs too. What’s going on?”

  “What I have to say I have to say in private.”

  “Okay … fine.”

  “Can we get to your room without anyone seeing us?”

  “We can try,” I said.

  Alison grabbed Maizie and held her jaws together so she couldn’t bark. We crept up the stairs slowly and ducked into my room. Then Maizie leaped out of Alison’s arms and hid under the dresser. Alison sat on the edge of my bed, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “My mother is pregnant,” she announced.

  “No!”

  “And they don’t know how it happened.”

  “You mean it didn’t happen in the usual way?”

  “I mean, she’s forty years old and she’s never been able to get pregnant and now, all of a sudden, she is.”

  “That’s amazing!” I said.

  “It’s more than amazing.”

  “What’s she going to do?”

  “She’s going to have it. She and Leon think it’s the greatest news they’ve ever heard. It doesn’t bother them that when the kid is my age Mom will be fifty-three and Leon will be sixty-five.”

  I tried to picture Gena Farrell pregnant, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t picture her old either.

  “What about the series?” I asked.

  “How can you think of a TV series at a time like this?”

  “I don’t know. It just popped into my head.” I like Gena’s new TV series. It’s funny but not silly. I watch it every Tuesday night. Maybe Leon could give Franny—that’s the name of the character Gena plays—a baby on the show. That would be very interesting.

  Alison was crying again. “Mom says she didn’t tell me until tonight because they just got the results of the amniocentesis …”

  “What’s amniocentesis?” I asked.

  “Some test they do on older women to make sure the baby is okay. They even know what sex it is.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a …” She shook her head. I sat beside her and put my arm around her shoulder. “It’s a boy,” she finally managed to say.

  “So you’ll have a younger brother, same as me.”

  “You don’t get it, do you?” she cried. “This isn’t anything like you and Bruce.”

  “Because you’ll be thirteen years older?”

  “No … because it will be their baby. Their own baby. Not some baby Gena adopted because she couldn’t get pregnant. This baby will look like them.”

  “I hope it looks like Gena,” I said. “Not that there’s anything wrong with the way Leon looks … but Gena’s a lot …” I stopped when I realized that wasn’t what Alison meant. She meant this baby won’t be Vietnamese.

  “They won’t need me anymore.”

  “Come on, Alison! I never saw a kid as loved as you.”

  “Until now! But who knows what’s going to happen in July?”

  I wanted to tell her about Dad and how he was coming back to the New York office on May first. I wanted to tell her that I don’t know what’s going to happen either. But it didn’t feel like the right time to bring up my family problems.

  “I’m going to France tomorrow,” Alison said. “I’m going to find my biological mother.”

  “How?”

  “There are ways.”

  “I think you’re making a big mistake,” I said.

  We both heard the doorbell ring. Alison r
ushed to the window and looked out. “It’s them,” she whispered. “I’ll hide in the closet.”

  “Alison, I wish you’d …”

  “Shush …”

  She was in the closet, with Maizie, when Mom opened my door. “Is Alison here?”

  You could tell Alison was trying to keep Maizie from barking by the muffled sounds coming from the closet.

  “Your parents are downstairs waiting, Alison,” Mom said, as if nothing unusual was going on.

  As soon as Mom was gone Alison opened the closet door and came out with Maizie in her arms. “I guess I’ll go home now,” she said. Her voice sounded hoarse. “I guess I’ll wait until tomorrow to decide what to do.”

  “You look kind of funny,” I told her.

  “I feel kind of funny,” she said. And then she just keeled over.

  “Mom!” I called, “Come quick …”

  Mom, Gena and Leon raced up the stairs. “Pumpkin!” Leon said. He lifted Alison onto my bed.

  Gena felt her forehead. “She’s burning up!”

  “It’s probably the flu,” I told them. “The kids at school are dropping like flies.”

  “What’s going on?” Bruce asked, standing in my doorway.

  Alison opened her eyes. “My dog can talk,” she said.

  “What was that all about?” Mom asked, after Leon and Gena took Alison home.

  “Family problems,” I said.

  “I hope it’s nothing serious.” Mom turned out the lamps in the living room.

  “Gena’s pregnant but no one’s supposed to know. And Alison thinks once they have their own baby they won’t love her anymore.”

  “Of course they will,” Mom said, as we went upstairs.

  “That’s what I told her,” I said. “I never saw a kid as loved as Alison.”

  “What about you and Bruce?” Mom followed me into my room.

  I shrugged.

  “You don’t think we love you as much as they love Alison?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Stephanie … of course we do!”

  “Maybe.”

  “Just because we have disagreements from time to time doesn’t mean we don’t love each other,” Mom said.

  “I guess.”

  “I was tough on you that night, wasn’t I?” Mom asked.