Chapter 13
Dear Diary,
We’re getting rid of stuff.
CeeCee
Mom and I decided to make Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons our “family time”. I ran early in the morning as well as after dark on both of those days, and Felicia met us at church on Sunday mornings, but the rest of that time was ours to be alone together.
Determined to get rid of as much junk as she could, Mom convinced me to help her start on Mark’s room, which was a nightmare. It was hardly fair to call it Mark’s room, since most of the stuff in there had nothing whatsoever to do with Mark, but calling it the storage room didn’t seem right.
Mark had to belong somewhere in the house.
I agreed to help simply because, if Mom had her way, everything would be history and there were some things I wanted to keep. Even though I had always accused my dad of being the family packrat, I had to admit the apple hadn’t fallen very far from the tree.
The next Saturday, immediately after breakfast, we started on the room. Neither of us realized how hard it was going to be emotionally.
The first few boxes weren’t that difficult; they contained some of my old toys. Opening the first box, we found three Barbie dolls and a Ken I had refused to give up. One of the Barbie dolls was minus a head and the Ken was missing both arms. Searching through the box, we weren’t able to find the missing body parts, just clothes and accessories. Mom and I laughed. I had been a strange child, and I hadn’t changed all that much
Some of the other boxes weren’t so easy.
I was in the middle of digging through a box full of old clothes, when I noticed that Mom was no longer talking. She and I had kept up a running commentary on the funny things we found, but she had gone strangely silent.
Glancing over at her, I noticed her shoulders shaking. Alarmed, I jumped up and rushed over to see what was wrong. She was crying. I noticed she was holding what looked like a small scrap of paper in her hand.
“Mom…?” I queried tentatively.
She couldn’t answer me. Gently I took the scrap of paper from her hand. It was a ticket stub for some concert. Handing it back, I sat down on the floor and put my arm around her. I didn’t understand, but I didn’t have to…I just needed to be there for her.
After the storm of weeping passed, and she was able to speak again, she said, “The ticket stub…” she hiccupped before continuing, “I met your dad at that concert.”
The light dawned: The Allison Box.
How well I remembered the day I first learned about The Allison Box. I was in fourth grade, and had written a paper—the teacher called it a paper but in retrospect it couldn’t even be considered a paragraph—an assignment for class about who we admired most in the world. We hadn’t known what admired meant, so she had explained it to us as the one person in the world we most wanted to be like.
That was easy: Mom.
Every time we had a class party, field trip, or any special event, Mom would take a day off from teaching to be there for me. All of the kids in my class were envious that I had the best mom. She was fun, pretty, smart, and a great cook; her chocolate chip cookies were legend. How could I not want to be just like her?
I couldn’t remember exactly what I wrote, but it made Mom cry and I had been horrified. My dad was finally able to get me to see that she was crying in a good way.
Although I still didn’t understand it, I was relieved that he wasn’t angry with me. He hated seeing my mom upset more than anything. He then asked if he could have the paper to put in The Allison Box. He explained to me that he had a box where he kept all of the special things that reminded him how thankful he was to have met Mom, and that she had chosen him.
I was very proud of myself. Something I had written was going into The Allison Box.
I wasn’t sure Mom would be able to handle delving into that box and, apparently, she agreed with me. Putting the ticket stub back, she closed the lid and stood up.
“I think we’ve done enough for today,” she stated firmly.
Picking up the box, she made her way downstairs. I heard her bedroom door shut.
So much for that, I thought to myself sadly.
Not knowing whether Mom would come out of her room for lunch, I decided to fix it myself. I was in the mood for tuna so I boiled some eggs, cut up an apple, and added some relish and mayo. By the time I was done, Mom had returned to the kitchen and seemed to be her normal cheery self. We ate lunch together—sandwiches and chips—then I went upstairs to get ready for my date.
I decided to leave Saturday afternoons free for dating, which left Mom time to go off and do her volunteer work. Mom had chosen to volunteer at the hospital, in the children’s ward.
Her first effort at volunteering had been with hospice, and the night I had confronted her in the kitchen, the woman she had been sitting with every evening that week had just died, which explained why she had gotten home earlier than usual.
Mom had been attempting to act as normally as possible for me, even though she was very upset, according to Mark, but like an idiot, I had made everything even harder for her…no big surprise there.
So, that Saturday afternoon, Felicia dropped by the house to pick me up for our double date as she and I had decided we would meet Allen and Michael, rather than relying on them to get us home safely. We were both gun-shy about dating at all, so we thought that would be an acceptable compromise. They had been surprised, but agreeable.
We met at the AMC Theater right after lunch. I was not about to give up my running schedule for a guy, but I was a little concerned that Allen and Michael might object to afternoon dates. I needn’t have worried. They were more than happy to pay matinee prices rather than shell out the big bucks for an evening movie.
“Hey,” Allen greeted us enthusiastically and I noted with amusement that he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of Felicia.
“Hi,” Michael chimed in, “Glad you could make it.”
“Hey guys” Felicia responded cheerily.
I just smiled. My smile was feeling less like a grimace all the time.
“We thought we would go see the new Agent Jack Knight movie,” Allen offered tentatively, “unless there’s something else you would like to see.”
“No, that’s great,” Felicia reassured him. “I love Agent Jack Knight movies.”
She didn’t add that we had already seen it, that she’d actually seen it multiple times.
“Good deal. Do you want anything to eat or drink before we find a seat?” Michael asked.
“No, we’re good,” Felicia answered for both of us, while I nodded my agreement, having just eaten lunch.
Felicia took the lead, and I was glad.
When Felicia and I first met, we seemed to click right away, and I had no problem talking to her like she was an old friend, but the first few times we were in a group of people she was shocked to discover that I was actually very…reserved…in public. I’d never felt comfortable chatting freely with strangers.
Felicia had no such problem; she’d never met a stranger. That was one of the things I liked best about her…I was even a little envious. She and my mom were very similar in a lot of ways.
I was extremely thankful for Felicia’s outgoing personality. She and Allen kept up a steady stream of lively conversation the whole time, even through the movie previews until the movie actually started. There were only about twenty-five other people in the theater and we were all spread out so thinly that no one objected.
Other than Michael asking me what time it was about every five minutes, he and I occupied ourselves by listening to their chatter. Michael, it seemed, was about as talkative as I was.
I shuddered to think how the date would have gone if Michael and I had been alone. I could picture it, both of us staring off into space, unsure what to say, each hoping the other would break the awkward silence. It didn??
?t bear thinking about.
The movie was every bit as fun to watch the second time around. I watched it with new eyes because I had already finished reading the first Agent Jack Knight book and was half way through the second one. The first two movies, the ones Felicia had shown me on my birthday in her new media room, followed the first two books with surprising accuracy and I was looking forward to reading the third book.
After the movie, the guys suggested we go grab a bite somewhere. A fast food place a few blocks away sounded good to all of us and we agreed to meet there. We still weren’t ready to give up our only means of escape, just in case.
Because the lines were a little long, the guys found us a table and went to order the food, both of us choosing the Number One combo meal to make it easier on them. I didn’t like fizzy drinks very much and preferred water, but when Felicia ordered a diet soda I went along with it. I figured I could pretend to drink it and toss it when we were through.
We hadn’t had a chance to say much in the car since Felicia needed to concentrate on her driving, so we were glad of a chance to be alone for a few minutes to talk.
“So?” Felicia asked, leaning across the table towards me.
“So?” I repeated, stalling.
“Come on…tell me what you’re thinking.”
“You and Allen seem to be hitting it off,” I replied deliberately misunderstanding her.
“What about you and Michael?”
“We don’t talk much.”
“CeeCee!”
“Alright, alright,” I held up my hands in surrender, “I think he’s really nice.”
“Do you really?” she asked relieved. “Do you think you would want to…you know…go out with him…like…by yourself.”
Ah, I finally understood, she wasn’t pressuring me to find out if I liked Michael, it was because she liked Allen and was hoping I wouldn’t be offended if they wanted to… what was it called?… single-date.
“Absolutely,” I reassured her. “I don’t think either of our dates could be compared to Craig the jerk face. They’re really nice guys.”
“Oh, CeeCee, I am so glad you think so,” she gushed, relieved. “Oh, here they come.”
The guys slid into the booth with us and began distributing the food and drink. Once again, Allen and Felicia led the conversation. Michael contributed to it every once in a while, and periodically asked me what time it was, but overall seemed content to let them have it.
I wasn’t paying much attention to what was being said, so I was shocked to realize that everyone had suddenly become silent and were watching me expectantly.
Embarrassed to admit I had no clue what they were talking about, I frantically searched for a generically acceptable answer.
“Okay…?”
I hadn’t meant it to sound like a question, but apparently none of them noticed, well, almost none of them. Our dates accepted my answer with obvious relief so I knew I hadn’t totally blown it.
“CeeCee and I would like to wash our hands,” Felicia announced, looking pointedly at me, “so if you will excuse us?”
“Of course,” “Sure,” they replied letting us out of the booth.
As soon as we hit the bathroom, Felicia burst out laughing, and then tried to stifle it behind her hands. Bathrooms tended to echo…loudly.
“You have no earthly idea what you just agreed to, do you?” she asked incredulously.
“No,” I answered crossly, “but I’m sure you’re about to regale me with the details.”
“Michael is going to take you home in his car, and Allen is going to ride with me to my house,” she informed me smugly.
“That’s silly, how is Allen going to get home?” I asked wondering how I had missed so much.
“After Michael drops you off, he’ll swing by my house to pick up Allen,” Felicia answered reasonably. “Are you okay with all of that?” she asked, still a little anxious.
“Sure,” I responded quickly.
I was very glad Felicia liked Allen.
Maybe she would get over her crush on Mark more easily that way. Not that I wouldn’t have loved for her to one day be my sister-in-law, but I knew Mark pretty well, and our nightly conversations were enough to convince me that her hopes in that direction were in vain. He only saw her as his baby sister’s best friend, and I didn’t want to see her get seriously hurt. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody.
Once we were alone in his car, Michael seemed more disposed to talk. We chatted about our latest Honors English assignment; memorizing the first eighteen lines of the Canterbury Tales. Reciting it in Middle English instead of the modernized version was worth quite a few extra credit points, and Michael was all for working on it together.
While we were trying to figure out our schedules, I discovered that he was the editor of the school paper. I made a mental note to start reading it. It was still too early in the relationship to try explaining my total oblivion to all things not pertinent to my immediate survival.
While Michael and I talked, the A/C in the car kept blowing my hair around my face. Felicia had talked me into wearing it down instead of up in the customary ponytail, so I found myself continually shoving it behind my ears. As I reached up with my both hands to move the offending strands, the bracelet on my wrist caught Michael’s attention.
“Nice bracelet,” Michael commented.
Despite my best intentions to leave it in the box, I’d worn it to school everyday. Although I refused to wear it in front of Nick, especially after he had made it into an order, I loved it.
Even though I possessed a jewelry box filled with quite a few baubles—mostly from my time in junior high that the packrat in me refused to throw away—none of the pieces interested me…not since the Serena fiasco. My only adornment over the past few years had been sports watch to time my runs.
I had never been, nor ever would be, the frilly type, but I had to admit I liked the feeling of femininity that the bracelet gave me. Whether that was due to the fact that it was the most beautiful piece of jewelry I had ever owned or more due to the source of the gift, I told myself it didn’t matter.
“Thanks,” I responded, tensing.
“I noticed you wearing it this week,” he continued, not daunted by my monosyllabic answer. “I haven’t ever seen you wear jewelry before.”
Rats, he had been watching me more closely than I realized. My stomach churned with an unidentified emotion.
“Um…it was a birthday present,” I offered hesitantly, suddenly inspired I added, “My birthday was last week and we had a family party on Saturday. It’s really too bad we didn’t know each other before last Sunday, because I would have invited you. I got all sorts of cool gifts. My mom bought me a laptop, and Felicia’s family got me an i…a handheld device to play my music and it says I can do all kinds of applications, whatever those are, and internet and movies…all sorts of stuff. I haven’t figured everything out yet. Do you know anything about what they call syncing?”
I had to pause to catch my breath. I wasn’t used to babbling out loud, and it took a lot out of me. My awe for Felicia and my mom knew no bounds. How in the world did they keep that up all the time?
Thankfully, it worked. Michael was totally distracted from the bracelet conversation. I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Movies…internet…applications…? You mean you got an i…?” he began incredulously.
“Oh no…!” I exclaimed, horrified at what I had revealed. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.”
“They aren’t even out yet,” he continued in amazement.
“You can’t say anything, okay. I’m not sure how they got an advance one, but it’s supposed to be a secret. I can’t believe I…”
“It’s alright, CeeCee,” Michael grinned. “Mum’s the word. I’d love to get my hands on it though, if you’ll let me, and I’ll help you sync it with your new laptop. I assume you have internet at your house…??
?? he looked at me questioningly.
“Just dial up,” I admitted ruefully.
“That’s okay, we can still do it,” he assured me. “It’ll just take a while.”
The rest of the drive was taken up with Michael discoursing on the advantages and disadvantages of the various devices available. I couldn’t have come up with a better distraction. Michael was an undemanding companion.
Since Mom wasn’t home yet, I couldn’t invite Michael into the house, so we sat on the front porch for a bit. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to leave.
We were quiet for a while, and then Michael suddenly asked, “What time is it?”
That was going to get annoying; someone needed to buy the guy a watch.
As soon as I told him, he asked abruptly “Do you want to go out?”
“I thought we just did,” I replied flippantly.
“No, I mean, yes we did, but I mean just us…by ourselves,” Michael stammered.
“Oh, okay, that would be nice,” I replied reluctantly, unable to come up with a good reason to say no.
“Great,” he enthused, “I better go pick up Allen before he starts thinking I forgot about him.”
With that, he got up off the porch and practically sprinted to the car.
Turning around, he called, “See you at church tomorrow.”
I waved back, and watched as he drove away. Guys were weird.
At church the next day, Michael and Allen asked us to sit with them. I wasn’t about to desert my mom, so Felicia, understanding perfectly, offered to let them sit with us instead.
I sat next to Mom, and Michael’s brother Lance managed to squeeze in between Michael and Felicia. The guys were going to kick him out, but Felicia and I wouldn’t let them.
For one thing, Lance wore a watch so I was hoping Michael would ask him what time it was instead of constantly asking me and, for another, Lance was sweet.
I could tell he had a huge crush on Felicia, and I sympathized with him…crushes were hard.
Felicia and Allen were still talking when Mom and I headed home. Michael waved forlornly as he watched us leave. I had explained to him that Saturday afternoon was the only time I had for dating.
We could spend some time together studying during the week when Felicia and I weren’t doing out homework together, and it would be great if he didn’t mind helping me sync my handheld and laptop, but we would have to play it by ear.
Mom had stuck a roast in the oven so it would be ready by the time we got home from church, for which I was grateful. I was starving.
I noticed, while I was stuffing my face, that Mom was quieter than usual. Actually, she had not been her usual talkative self at church either. Alarmed, I wondered if she was sick or something. There were all kinds of diseases she could pick up doing volunteer work at the hospital.
What if something happens to her? What would I do?
Get a grip, I silently berated myself. Just ask her.
“Mom, are you okay?” I ventured carefully.
“What?” Mom turned unfocused eyes toward me.
“Are you okay? You seem…distracted.”
“Oh, I’m fine, sweetie,” Mom assured me. “There is something I need to talk to you about though. I’ve been debating how and when to bring it up.”
“You don’t mind me dating do you?” I asked anxiously. “I promise it won’t be like last time. Michael is…”
“No, no it’s not that,” Mom hastily interrupted me. “I trust you. This is something else.” She hesitated as if unsure how to proceed. “I haven’t explained why I want to clean out Mark’s room.”
“Well, after all, Dad was the packrat. I just assumed…”
I wasn’t sure how to put the rest of it into words so I just shrugged. Mom had no problem figuring out what I meant.
“There’s that, too, of course, but the real reason is that… I’m planning to put the house up for sale,” she finished in a rush.
I felt Mom watching me carefully for my reaction, but I had no idea how to react. Unidentified emotions were rushing all through my body. I was a little dazed, unsure if I wanted to identify any of them, but knowing I needed to. I closed my eyes, attempting to sift through all of the conflicts inside of me.
Mom knew me well enough to know that I hated change. On the other hand, it would be a relief to be able to get away from the constant reminders that plagued me every day. The whole downstairs screamed “wheelchair”.
A horrible thought occurred to me.
“Would I have to finish my senior year some place else?”
“No,” Mom said decisively. “I’ve already put a deposit down on a two bedroom/two bath apartment at the complex a few blocks from the school. It will be vacant and ready to move into the beginning of January. That should give us plenty of time.”
Relief was absolutely my primary emotion at that point. Then the depression set in.
“So soon…?”
“Yes, there’s no reason to stay here,” she sighed. “I think it will give the workmen enough time. I want to put the house up for sale in March.”
“Workmen…?”
“We need to get rid of the ramp in the front, it isn’t code, and they will also have to fix a few problems…nothing to worry about. The main thing is that you and I have to use all of our spare time to get everything done. Mark and Nick are going to spend some weekends here helping us.”
I was in a blind panic by the time she finished imparting that tidbit of information.
“Can’t we handle this move by ourselves?” I asked urgently.
Mom gave me a funny look. I tried again.
“I mean, it’ll cut into Mark’s work time and everything,” I offered lamely.
“Oh, that,” Mom said dismissively, “Mark won’t be working quite as many hours.”
“He won’t…?” I asked, confused. “But what about paying for school and everything?”
“Your dad had money in his teacher retirement that I had to withdraw, plus a small insurance policy. If you add that to whatever price we can get for the house, since we don’t have a mortgage to pay off, it’s enough for me to help Mark…and you next year…pay for college.”
I could see that Mom was becoming emotional.
“Dad and I talked about it, and he wanted me to use his money to help you both. That is how I was able to afford your laptop. I know it’s what he would have wanted.”
By the time she finished, there were tears running down her cheeks.
Reaching over, I took Mom’s hand and squeezed it gently.
“Whatever you decide to do is fine with me, Mom. I’ve caused you enough stress over the past few years; I won’t do that to you again. Just tell me what you want me to do.”
“Thanks, CeeCee,” Mom said gratefully, “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I whispered emotionally.
That week we spent almost every free minute going through, not only Mark’s room, but every room in the house deciding what would go with us to the apartment and what would stay.
Felicia helped when she could, but she was spending a lot of her free time with Allen. I still got to see her at school, so I didn’t mind. I had too much to do, anyway.
Michael volunteered to come over and help, but Mom said no. In a way, I was glad. I liked Michael, but as a friend. I suspected he wanted more.
Mom explained that, while she didn’t mind Nick coming, he felt like family already—to her anyway—she couldn’t stand the thought of a stranger touching my dad’s stuff. I understood.
Since I had already promised Michael I would go out with him the next Saturday, Mom insisted that I keep the date. Mark and Nick would be there, so she wouldn’t be working alone. She tended to try to lift things she shouldn’t be lifting, so I needed to warn Mark to keep an eye on her while I was gone.
Mark and Nick planned to arrive early Saturday
morning and would stay until Sunday evening in order to get as much done as possible. I kept telling myself I could handle Nick’s presence, but deep down I had my doubts.
At school, although Felicia and I usually ate lunch alone at the table where we first met, that week, for the first time, we weren’t alone.
Felicia invited Allen to join us, and he brought an entourage.
Michael, of course, was part of it, but there were also five other people. I didn’t catch all of their names, because I was late getting there on Monday.
Coach Miller caught me in the hall and wanted to go over my running schedule for the week since she was going to be out of town for a couple of days. She planned to leave right after lunch so it couldn’t wait.
By the time I arrived in the cafeteria, our customary table was unrecognizable.
I didn’t have much time left to eat anything, so I just grabbed some things out of the vending machines. Michael noticed me right away, and came over to take my hand—which surprised me—and led me to the table. I noticed one of the girls already sitting there eyeing our clasped hands in displeasure.
Wow, I was really getting better at the paying attention thing. First Mom, then a girl I didn’t even know. I had to admit that it was good knowing when something was bothering Mom, but I could have done without the knowledge that the girl at the table was shooting daggers at me with her eyes. Guess I would have to learn how to pay selective attention.
Something else I noticed; Felicia practically glowed. I was happy for her.
Although I didn’t see Felicia much outside of school that week, Michael and I met after my weight training session every day to work on our English assignment. He drove me home most days so Mom didn’t have to wait for me after school, and stayed for supper a couple of times.
I felt I owed him at least that much since he was also helping me with my electronic stuff—I was technologically handicapped—and he was unfailingly polite, even told my mom she was a much better cook than his mother, which made her smile.
After he left, Mom and I would work on the house stuff until time for my run. I had found an acceptable balance between the different parts of my life. Things were looking up.
I still called Mark every evening before bedtime, we had lots to discuss, but Thursday night’s phone call threatened to ruin my new found balance. He started out more abruptly than usual.
“Mom said you were seeing this Michael guy almost every day.”
“We do have a class together,” I reminded him, confused by the controlled anger in his voice.
“You know what I mean, after school, at the house…alone.”
“We aren’t alone, Mom’s always here,” I defended myself, unused to Mark playing the heavy. “Besides, we’re just studying and working on my laptop.”
“You were already in the house before Mom got home today,” he contradicted.
“Okay, today for fifteen minutes, we were alone in the house,” I admitted dutifully. “I thought Mom was here. She usually is.”
“Fifteen minutes is all it takes,” Mark said angrily.
“What are you talking about,” I asked, bewildered.
“Did you learn nothing from your near escape from that football jerk last year,” he demanded.
“Michael is not like that. He…” I began defensively.
“All guys are like that,” he disagreed hotly.
“Wait a minute,” Mark was sounding suspiciously like… “This isn’t about a kiss, is it? Nick told you,” I accused angrily.
“You should have told me yourself, instead of letting us all believe that jerk was telling the truth,” Mark said angrily. “I shouldn’t have had to hear it secondhand.”
“I didn’t mean to tell Nick, I just got angry and it slipped out. He had no right to…”
“He had every right to tell me, especially when we found out from Mom that you’d been alone in the house with a guy,” he interrupted. “That won’t happen again…and I want to know the truth about what happened that night, CeeCee.”
“It happened a long time ago, Mark. Just let it go,” I pleaded. “I have.”
“I can’t believe you allowed me to go on believing a lie all this time.”
I could tell under the anger that Mark was genuinely hurt that I hadn’t told him the truth. I never intended to hurt him; I felt awful.
“Can we talk about it when you get here,” I begged, “I don’t want to do this over the phone.”
Mark was silent for a minute.
“Okay, but you will tell me the truth,” he said in warning, “No more lying.”
“No more lying,” I conceded wearily.
“CeeCee, you know I love you,” Mark said as gently as he could.
“I love you, too,” I whispered.
I hung up and let the tears fall.