“What kind of mess do you have? None. I wish I could be more like you. You’ve been smart enough not to lie about anything.”
Except about my entire life, she thought. She wondered what was going to happen to them when she finally had to tell Derric the truth.
• • •
WHEN SHE GOT to Ralph’s after the school day had ended, Becca saw that Rich Darrow’s truck was there. He’d left it in the upper parking area, and a collection of heavily made cardboard boxes suggested that he’d stopped by to see his dad on the way to making a delivery of his glass pieces to some of the galleries on the island that featured them. She rolled her bike down the new driveway. Soon it would be time for Celia Black to arrive for the late shift, but at the moment it looked like Jake was still in the house.
It turned out that everyone was more or less working on calming Ralph. Jake had apparently just taken his blood pressure, and the result had not been good. There was probably a reason for this, Becca figured, and it wasn’t long before she found out what it was.
They were all gathered in the living room, at the smallish table where Grand worked on language and played games that, over time, were growing progressively more challenging. Now, though, there was paperwork on the table. It had once been folded into thirds, which suggested to Becca that it had come to Ralph or to Rich in the mail.
It seemed that Rich Darrow had been trying to explain something to his father, but either Grand wasn’t getting it or he had gotten it all too clearly. In either case, he was upset and, upset, he was fast losing whatever language he’d reacquired. He was repeating the word banks. He was able to say houch as well, whatever that meant. When Becca walked toward the table, his gaze met hers and she felt the ferocity of it. She looked among them. If she removed the earbud to try to work out what was going on, there was a chance that the bombardment of everyone’s thoughts was going to make her efforts useless. Still, she needed to try. She flipped it out of her ear.
Never going to . . . banks, banks, banks . . . daily thing . . . damage is going to be too . . . kill him if I can’t get control . . . way too out of it . . . law is the law . . . if Brenda and Mike . . . where’s a good place now . . . he doesn’t know me so what does it matter . . . papers are there . . . she’s not going to let up . . . banks banks . . .
Becca couldn’t bear the assault. She could hardly distinguish all the words. The only thing that made sense as a direct communication from Ralph was banks. As for the rest, it didn’t matter at the moment because Ralph was trying to get up, which he managed without help, and he came to her and grabbed on to her arm so fiercely that she yelped.
“Houch,” he cried and in the contact between them she saw an exterior stairway being climbed, and she knew it had to be Ralph Darrow climbing it and there in front of him was a screened door. She saw his hand reach for it, open it, and then . . . nothing more.
Jake was saying, “Mr. Darrow, let’s get you into your room. You’re heading into a bad place with your blood pressure.”
“Bec . . . ca,” Ralph said. “Banks.”
“I’ll bring you some Whidbey vanilla, Grand,” Becca said. “But let Jake help you to your room.”
His eyes filled with tears. Becca knew he was trying to tell her something. She nodded and said, “I promise I’ll bring you the ice cream. We’ll eat it alone, you and me. Everyone’ll pretend they don’t know what we’re up to.”
He appeared to understand. He nodded in the old Grand way, with one jerk of his head, like a soldier. He wouldn’t let Jake take his arm, however. He insisted upon using the handrails as help, and doing this, he made it to his room on his own. Jake followed. He would need help if he wanted the bed.
Rich Darrow watched. His face was sorrow. He sat at the table still, and when he finally moved, it was to gather up the paperwork.
If she wins this, he dies told Becca everything. She said to Seth’s dad, “Has something bad happened?”
Rich was refolding the papers. He put them into an envelope. Becca could see that this had come to Rich Darrow by registered mail so that he wouldn’t be able to claim later that he’d not received its contents.
Rich cleared his throat and Becca didn’t need his whispers to understand how upset he was. “Brenda’s been given guardianship,” he said.
“But she doesn’t even live on the island!”
“Doesn’t matter apparently. The results of Dad’s evaluation showed that he can’t live on his own—which we already knew—and that he doesn’t understand his financial circumstances.”
“Why would they say Grand doesn’t understand? You know he does. I know he does.”
“It’s the language thing. They’ve decided it makes him too vulnerable.”
“But he’s making progress. With language and with everything.”
“Not enough, apparently. Physically he’s improving, and that looks good. As long as he doesn’t live alone.”
“He’s not living alone. I’m here. Celia and Jake are here. Seth’s here. He’s never alone.”
He looked regretful as he said, “Unfortunately, you guys . . . everyone but Celia and Jake? To the court, you don’t count. You’re all too young and none of you have medical skills.”
“As if we need them. That’s so unfair!”
“Sort of like life,” Rich pointed out. “At any rate, Brenda’s got what she wanted. That’s what this”—he indicated the envelope—“is all about. I wanted Dad to know before she gets here. I told him she might want to sell the house and the land, but even if she does, he’s not going to assisted living. Seth and I can make changes in our place, so he can come to us. She’ll go for that.”
Becca looked in the direction of the bedroom. “He can’t lose this place. It’s his everything.”
“There’s not much we can do about it now.”
“Why did he say banks? D’you think there’s some kind of money somewhere that nobody knows about?”
“The financial guardian checked every bank on the island. He dealt with banks over town, too: in Everett, Edmonds, Mukilteo, Lynnwood. There’s no special account anywhere. And no paperwork here to indicate there might be.”
Jake came out of the bedroom just as the front door opened and Celia breezed into the house. She had a bakery box with her and she made an announcement of “Carrot cake all around. Who wants a piece?” but her happy invitation faded when she saw the expressions on the faces around her. “Is Mr. Darrow all right?” was her instant question.
“It depends on what you mean by all right,” was Rich Darrow’s reply.
24
Jenn was able to offer her mom a compromise once she figured out that her dad wasn’t going to intervene in their dispute. She attended church with her without complaint, and she tried to look devout. In place of Bible study on Wednesday evening, which she couldn’t attend because of her G & G’s job, she accepted assignments from Kate to read various and deliberately chosen sections of the Old Testament and to write essays on them afterward. Jenn hardly had time to do this and her homework, but she made time whenever she had five free minutes.
She de-stressed herself by regaling her regular lunch companions with tales of the Pentecostal services. It was fire and brimstone all the way, she told them, and the last time she’d been there, one of the congregants had had a bad bizarre seizure in the middle of the aisle. Mr. Sawyer called it the Holy Spirit, but someone else wisely called it an emergency needing the paramedics. They showed up and carted the victim off to the hospital.
“Swear to God,” Jenn said. “I hate that place. All they want to do is mess with your mind. But my mom thinks it’s like having a flu shot.”
“What’s that about?” Squat offered his four chocolate chip cookies for the table’s enjoyment. They were home baked by his mom. He said she’d been having an attack of domesticity lately because she’d met a guy on Match.com and she wanted
him to think she was wife material, chocolate chip cookies seemingly the most obvious sign of this.
“It’s about me not turning into a lesbian from working at G & G’s,” Jenn said. “If I go to church with her and study the parts of the Bible that she wants me to study, I’ll be safe.”
“And have you become so inclined, my friend?” Squat inquired. “Is there something in your nature that I should be aware of, since we’ve been engaged for something like thirteen years?”
Jenn didn’t answer because Becca was saying, “Can’t your dad help out?”
“No way. He likes to keep the peace and he knows that Mom will go ballistic if he says I don’t have to go to church with her. It’s some kind of deal they made before they got married. She wouldn’t bug him about the beer brewing and he wouldn’t bug her about her religion. So she doesn’t have to drink his beer, and she looks away when he’s selling it to people under the table. And he doesn’t have to go to her church. If he brings up the rest of us having to go, she’ll probably burn down the brew shed.”
“Harsh,” Squat said. Then he added, “On the other hand . . .” He gestured across the New Commons to where Cynthia and Lexie had just finished eating. They were going separate ways, but before they did, Lexie grabbed Cynthia and planted a smacking kiss on her mouth. “That could be in your future if you don’t watch out for the company you keep.”
“Don’t think that’s how it works,” was Derric’s view.
Becca’s was a monitory “Squat . . .” which, Jenn knew, was meant to tell him to stay away from the subject of Lexie and Cynthia.
But Jenn found she didn’t want to stay away. She said, “You know, Fergus,” and using his real name told everyone at the table that her temper was rising, “you can actually be friends with someone without having sex with them. You can even be friends with someone who gets off on people of the same gender.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Squat told her.
“Why are you so freaked by them? Or are you just freaked because no one wants to have sex with you?”
He looked unperturbed. He reached for half of one of the cookies. “I’m saving myself for you, beloved,” he said. “You’ll cave into my charms eventually.” But Jenn knew that he’d felt the dig. His cheeks had grown ruddier as he was speaking.
• • •
JENN WAS BOTHERED by it all: her mom’s beliefs and Squat’s attitude and what it meant that they thought how they thought. She kept feeling pushed and pulled when all she really wanted to do was have a job, make some money, and get herself onto the All Island Girl’s Soccer team.
She did wonder all the same, because there was something about Cynthia and Lexie’s free and easy relationship that she felt drawn to. It wasn’t that she wanted a relationship like theirs with another girl. It was just that she admired their openness, and she didn’t find it horrifying, sickening, or anything else that they were into each other. She knew them as people first and as girls-into-other-girls second. What was the big deal?
She and Lexie were driving to G & G’s after a training session when Jenn brought it up with, “Can I ask you something?”
“Can do.” Lexie leaned over and opened the glove compartment. She snagged an energy bar, which she handed to Jenn. “Let’s split this,” she said. “You start, I’ll finish.”
Jenn began to unwrap it. “It’s sort of dumb,” she began.
“I love dumb,” Lexie told her. “I deal best with dumb. Fire away.”
“Okay. You and Cynthia . . . and you and Sara-Jane . . . ?”
“Yep.”
“How did you know?”
“You mean that I’m into girls?” Lexie glanced in her direction. They were on the highway heading up to Freeland, so it was a quick glance only, and after that, Lexie didn’t look over at her again. Jenn liked this: not only that Lexie was a careful driver but also that she herself could get red in the face or uncomfortable or anything and Lexie wouldn’t be examining her. “Lemme think for a sec.” Thirty seconds or more went by until Lexie finally nodded and said, “When you start liking someone—I mean liking as in more than being friends—it’s because there’s some kind of attraction. Maybe it’s physical, maybe it’s intellectual, maybe you’ve got the same interests . . . stuff like that. But you recognize that there’s something special in this other person that you can latch onto. Get it?”
“Sure.”
“So you start spending time with this person and you realize at some point it’s really more than just being friends. It’s loving instead. Not like loving your mom and dad and brothers and sisters. A different kind of loving that draws you to the other person and makes you want to act on it. You start to feel if you don’t act on it, you’re going to end up a knot of nerves. But in order to act, you’ve got to take a step and that step involves the other person and that other person might not feel the same way. But if they do . . . well, there you go.”
Jenn considered this for a moment before she said, “But that sounds just like girls and guys,” she finally said.
“Guess it is.” They’d reached Bayview Corner, one of the five traffic lights on the south end of Whidbey Island. It was red, which gave Lexie the chance to give Jenn a look that took her in from toes to head. She said, “I just think you’re attracted to who you’re attracted to, Jenn. For some girls, it turns out to be other girls. For some girls it turns out to be guys.”
“But what about . . . See, Giselle and Gertie . . . ? Weren’t they attracted to guys in the beginning?”
“Must’ve been or they wouldn’t’ve married ’em.”
Jenn was quiet. She handed over the rest of the energy bar, having eaten her part of it. Lexie’s hand closed over hers. Reflexively, Jenn jerked away. Then she was embarrassed that she’d done so.
Lexie didn’t seem bothered. She said, “You should check out the Gay Straight Alliance. We meet on Fridays. At lunch. You know Ms. Primavera?”
“The counselor. Course. Everyone knows her.”
“The phony Jimmy Choos.” Lexie grinned. “That’s her. Anyway, she’s our sponsor.”
“Omigod! Is she—”
Lexie hooted. “It’s the Gay Straight Alliance, Jenn. You should come to a meeting. If you show up, there’s kids who’ll answer your questions better ’n me.”
Jenn thought that the Gay Straight Alliance meeting was just about the last place where she’d want to be seen. There was knowing and liking Cynthia and Lexie, and there was mixing and mingling with the high school freaks. But she didn’t want to say that, so instead she asked Lexie if her parents knew.
“That I’m into girls? Oh, yeah. I told ’em.”
“What happened?”
The light switched to green. Lexie took off. “My dad doesn’t like to talk about it. My mom refuses to believe it. She keeps telling me I’m in a stage and as soon as I get to college and see all those buff fraternity boys, I’ll be changing my colors.”
“Does she know about Sara-Jane?”
“Yep. But as far as she’s concerned, SJ is ‘your little friend, Aleksandra. I don’t quite like her. Please don’t bring her by the house.’”
“That’s rotten.”
“I c’n cope. Anyway, you should talk to Cynthia.”
Jenn wasn’t sure she wanted to. There was something less approachable about Cynthia. She was beautiful, smart, confident, talented. All that gorgeous blond hair and that perfect body. She was friendly to everyone, and Jenn figured she’d be open to talking about just about anything, but still . . .
Lexie said, “Her parents practically told her she was a lesbian. When she came out to them, her dad said, ‘Oh, we’ve known that for years.’ And her mom was like, ‘As long as you’re happy, we’re happy, dear.’”
“That’s cool.”
“Wish it was like that in my house. But it ain’t, and that’s life.” Lexi
e shoved the rest of the energy bar into her mouth.
“Doesn’t it bother you that your parents don’t get it?”
“Truth? My mom would’ve only been happy if I’d turned out to be her clone. I figured that out when she wanted me to shave my legs when I was thirteen and I liked them just the way they were. You’d’ve thought I’d put a stiletto through her eyeball. She wouldn’t talk to me for a week. My dad, though? He’ll come around eventually.”
“Sounds like my house. Only it’s not leg shaving. It’s Pentecostal Christianity.”
“Ouch,” Lexie said. “Now that’s a tough one.”
25
In Seth’s final phone message to Prynne, he talked about Grand. Brenda, he told Prynne, was moving things forward in her attempt to get control of Ralph. Grand now had an attorney to fight Brenda’s being given guardianship, one that Seth’s parents had had to unearth, although no one knew how they were going to pay for it. That attorney had advised Seth’s dad to work things out with his sister because “I’ve seen this sort of family thing before and it generally doesn’t turn out well.” That was where things stood when Seth left his message.
There would be another hearing, he told Prynne. They thought it looked good because the family had at least two people at the house to care for Grand, but now, of course, there were only two people when Becca was there with Celia, since Jake was on his own. Seth didn’t know what the judge would make of that, he said.
He knew as he added this last part that he was trying to guilt Prynne into returning. He’d tried every other approach—I love you, I miss you, I’m sorry I followed you, We can work this out, Please call me back—except actually going to her, and when she didn’t return this call about Grand’s precarious position, he decided he had to appeal personally to what she’d once declared: that she loved him, Seth, too.
He waited till her next gig in Port Townsend. He was due to stay with Grand because of the weekend, but Becca said she’d do it. Derric wasn’t going to be available anyway, she told him. He was spending the day up in La Conner with a fellow African from his Kampala orphanage.