Girl Unmoored

  I had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Okay, you’re in charge,” Mike said moving fast again. “I should be back soon. But if anything happens, if Chad gets really sick again, you can call Maine Medical. I’ll write down the number for you.”

  Mike started walking behind the counter, until I said the number out loud. “How did you know that?” he stopped.

  “I used to practically live there, remember?”

  36

  Aspirat primo Fortuna labori.

  Fortune smiles upon our first effort.

  I couldn’t look at him when I taped the sign onto his cage. Guinea Pig for Adoption. Very quiet and doesn’t smell. But I could hear him twitching away like normal.

  I went upstairs to check on Chad. He was sleeping on the couch, snoring a little, and even when I dropped the picture of him and Mike skiing on some snowy mountain together, he didn’t open his eyes. I leaned against the wall and watched him breathe for a while, trying to tell myself not to go into their bedroom.

  But one quick peek couldn’t hurt anything.

  It looked like a regular bedroom. There was a brown dresser with a bottle of Nivea cream on it next to some frames, plus a big unmade bed with dark blue sheets and two tables on either side, one with a book and one with a lamp. So far, gay people had bedrooms that looked just like my dad’s: messy and too dark. It smelled different in Mike and Chad’s room though, thicker with something. Love, maybe. At my mom’s funeral, Reverend Hunter said that love is hard work and we pay a big price for it. But Mike and Chad’s kind seemed to be free. While everyone else was paying too much.

  Back in the living room, Chad was lying in the same position, breathing fine. So I went downstairs to get The Long Winter and see what Laura Ingalls Wilder had been up to lately.

  But when I got there I looked at the cruddy taped-up window. If that didn’t stop people from coming in, the rotting smell would. Maybe if things got cleaned up around here, I decided, Mike could make the money he needed for Chad without having to leave him alone anymore.

  I picked through a bucket of pink gerberas. Most of them were flopped over with missing petals, but a few of them seemed okay. On the floor beside them was a bucket of tulips that looked a little better but smelled just as bad, like Mrs. Weller’s kitchen with a hint of poison. I picked up both and brought them to the back.

  I took out the flowers and poured the murk down the sink. It smelled so dangerous I had to close my mouth not to taste it. I piled the stems and cut off the brown. Then I did the same with the rest of the buckets. Once, there was a bang against the window. I ducked behind the counter, waiting for another rock to fly through. But when it happened again, it was more of a knock. I stood and saw a nose and some hands smooshed up against the door. Sorry, we’re closed I mouthed to a man that looked like my dad but without the red hair and freckles. He pulled a face and left, and I got back to the flowers.

  When every flower that could be saved was, I poured the goop into the garbage and stared at the huge pile I had now. Usually there were tubs of the same ones everywhere, with only a few mixed bouquets on the counter. Unsold bouquets cost them a lot of money and most people just wanted a bunch of the same kind anyway. But there wasn’t enough of each flower left to fill a bucket. I thought about going upstairs to ask Chad what to do, but didn’t want him to forget who I was and start screaming again.

  So I got down some glass vases and filled them with water.

  I found some wire in the cabinet and used it to stand up the floppier flowers. Then I started arranging them, poking some into this vase and adding some to that. Pretty soon, everything started smelling happy again.

  I heard Chad coughing up there, but then he would get quiet again. And a few times the phone rang. I didn’t know if I was allowed to get it though, so I waited for the answering machine to click on. My empty stomach kept calling me, too, trying to find out if anything would be dropping in for a visit soon. Mike still wasn’t back yet by the time I finished the last vase. Or by the time I cleaned the sink and swept the floor either.

  I stood back and stared at the flowers. The truth was if you didn’t know it was me who had done the arranging, you might have guessed it was Chad. Something was still missing though, and then I remembered the straw ribbons with the little Scent Appeal tags. Outside, I heard a car door slam. Mike had to be getting back soon and I wanted everything to be perfect when he did.

  I searched through the drawers until I found the square tags with holes punched out in the corner. Then I found the ribbon and got to work tying them around each vase. They were probably meant to have the same old Happy Anniversarys or Sorry for your losses that everyone else put on them. The least I could do was spice them up with a little Latin.

  Sea glass fell out of my backpack when I pulled out my dictionary. I picked the pieces up and poured them into one of the vases. It looked even better than I thought it would. So I used all the sea glass I had, enough to cover the bottom of half the vases, and started flipping through the dictionary.

  I wrote Vis consilii epers mole ruit sua on the front of the first tag, and on the inside I put the translation: Force lacking judgment collapses under its own weight. And in case they still didn’t get it, I wrote Sorry! I’m just a big dummy.

  On the next tag I wrote Eheu! Fugaces labuntur annii! on the outside. Inside I wrote Alas! The fleeting years slip by. Happy Birthday, Oldie!

  Magnus ab integro saeculorum nascitur ordo was the closest thing I could find for a new baby. The mighty cycle of the ages begins its turn anew – Congratulations on your New Baby. I hope it likes it here.

  I ran out of vases before I ran out of quotes. And just as I finished the last tag, the doorknob jiggled and there was Mike’s face up against the glass.

  He opened the door with his key before I could get there.

  “What happened in here?” he said, his eyes darting around. “I have a truckload of new flowers out there.”

  My freckles burned. I looked down. “Oh. I—”

  “Are these the old ones?” he interrupted, looking at me like my dad did sometimes: sorry I was still a kid.

  “Some of them were okay,” I shrugged.

  He walked across the room and picked up a vase of pink and yellow tulips with two roses and three irises. “Did you bring the sea glass?”

  I nodded.

  Then he looked at the tag. “Frons est animi janua. What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It’s on the inside.”

  Mike read it and shook his head. “The forehead is the door to the Mind – So don’t let anything fall out! Happy Graduation?”

  “I can cut them off,” I said, walking toward him.

  But Mike smiled. “Are you kidding? These are fabulous. Did you show these to Chad?” He walked up to me smelling like plant soil mixed in with a toasted bagel.

  “He’s still sleeping.”

  “He’s going to love these,” Mike said looking at the tag again.

  I smiled back, not even trying to hide my teeth. “Really?”

  “Are you kidding?” he said again. “You just earned yourself Employee of the Month.” Then he laughed and put his hand on top of my red and squeezed it.

  I blinked at him and said, “Thanks.” But I didn’t tell him how that was the best thing I had ever won, even better than Best Attitude. “Thanks,” I said again, bringing up my shoulders like it was nothing.

  “I’m going to go and check on him. Did you get anything to eat?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  But Mike threw me a bag from Portland Bagels with a warm soft lump in there. So I winked at The Boss, sat down on the couch and pulled out that chocolate chip bagel, my eyes hopping from vase to vase, smiling.

  When I was finished, an old lady with a yellow cat on a leash walked in through the open door.

  “Sorry, we’re closed,” I said smooshing my paper bag together and standing.

  “Stay, Oliver,” she said to the cat, who
sat back on its legs like a dog.

  “Sorry, we’re closed,” I said again, trying to be nice about it.

  “Yes, it is,” she said. “A little hot though.”

  I nodded. The lady shuffled around, bending over to inspect the flowers and holding up one of the tags. “Oh nuts. Are these already sold?” she asked. I shook my head. “No.”

  “Goody,” she smiled, looking at a tag that said Adulescenita Deferbui, on the outside and The Fires of Youth have Cooled – But you’re still looking foxy!

  She placed her hand on her heart. “How clever.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I watched her shuffle around, reading tags and smelling flowers, laughing every time or smiling nice—what flowers were supposed to make you do.

  “I’ll take this one,” she said picking up a vase of mostly white zinnias with a card that read: Alea Iacta Est. The Die is Cast – Good Luck!

  She walked to the counter, but Oliver and I stayed where we were, watching.

  “How much did you say?” she asked, her pocketbook hanging off her arm.

  I widened my eyes and looked down at the cat. “I’ll have to ask Mike.”

  “Twenty-nine?” She pulled out three brand new ten-dollar bills and put them flat on the counter next to The Boss. I thought about asking her if she might like a guinea pig, but Oliver didn’t look like he wanted a playmate. “I remember when flowers cost fifty cents,” she said. “But these are so nifty. I’m going to have to catch up on my Latin.”

  I smiled. “I’m Employee of the Month.”

  “Good for you. Keep the change then.” She picked up the vase and walked back to her cat.

  “Do you need some help with that?” I asked.

  “Not me, honey,” she said. “Veni, Vidi, Vici!” she pumped her hand over her head. Then she walked out the door and turned toward Bramhall Street.

  After she left, I swiped up the money and ran, two steps at a time, to Mike and Chad. I waited at the top of the stairs until I heard quiet talking, then peeked in.

  Chad was sitting up on the couch and Mike was sitting next to him, holding his hand. When they saw me, though, Mike dropped it.

  “Look,” I said, waving the money at them. “I sold some flowers.”

  They snuck a look at each other, like they had been talking about me before I got there. Like I should have charged more.

  “I didn’t know how much they cost. Sorry. This lady just gave me twenty-nine and let me keep the rest as a tip.”

  “What did I tell you,” Mike said, turning to Chad, who nodded weakly. “Apron,” he said, back to me. “Chad and I were just sitting here wondering if maybe you’d want to help out around here this summer. It’s okay, if you can’t, if you have camp or something. But even if you wanted to come in once in a while, we would, well we could really use your help. One of us would always be here, so we’d never leave you alone. And we’d pay you, of course.”

  I looked back and forth between the two of them. “You mean like a summer job?”

  Mike nodded with his eyebrows raised and Chad said, “Do you think your dad’s going to let you?” I lifted my eyebrows too. Then we all stayed like that, looking at each other and wondering.

  37

  Homonyms

  Words that have the same sound but different meaning.

  Chad and Mike had more friends than you might think. I found this out later, after we finished unloading the new flowers and two ladies with short hair and thick legs walked in and gave Mike a hug. “You’re friends with girls?” I asked after Patty and Trisha went up the stairs to see Chad.

  “As long as they’re gay, too,” Mike said, picking up my backpack and whipping his hair over his shoulder. He was taking me home. I told him it was okay, I could take the bus. But he said no, and then that if I really wanted to help out around here this summer, he was going to have to ask my dad himself.

  But I was still staring at him when he said, “What? I’m just kidding. Whoa. Of course we’re friends with girls. We’re friends with you, aren’t we?”

  I nodded all the way out the door behind him.

  When we were both in the van, Mike started pulling out of the parking space, and I stared at the dashboard. “How come you want to be gay?”

  “Nobody wants to be gay, Apron,” Mike answered checking his rearview mirror. “You just come out that way.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “What?” Mike said looking over at me, and then back to the road, and then at me again. “It’s okay. You can ask me whatever you want.”

  “So. How do you know?” I did stare at Jenny Pratt a lot. She was the meanest girl in school, but she was also the prettiest.

  Mike chuckled and shrugged, but when he saw my face he shook his head and got serious again. “Okay. Think of a boy and a girl in your class. Tell me their names.”

  “Jenny,” I said. “And, yuck. No one.”

  “Oh, come on. How are we going to find out then? Just name a boy, any boy.”

  I looked over at Mike’s perfect profile. Mike Weller, I wanted to say. But I breathed in a mountain of air instead and turned back to the dashboard. “Seth Chambers.” I was done with Johnny Berman.

  “Good.” He turned to me. “Now, if you had to, and I mean had to, like somebody said they would lock you in your room without food or water until you kissed one of them, Jenny or Seth, which one would you pick?”

  I smiled at the world whizzing by outside my window and thought of kissing Seth Chambers right in front of Rennie and Jenny Pratt.

  “Which one?” Mike asked again.

  “Seth Chambers.”

  “There. You’re not gay. Sorry.”

  “Yay,” I said clapping like I just won something.

  Mike didn’t say anything, but later, when we were turning down our dirt road, I realized that if I had won, that meant Mike had lost.

  M was resting, my dad said, when Mike and I walked in quietly and startled him, sitting in his office with the door wide open. Mike had parked in Mrs. Weller’s driveway behind her love bug, then run in quickly to tell her he would be coming back in a minute, but needed to ask my dad something first.

  “Hi, Mr. Bramhall,” Mike said from my dad’s doorway.

  “Hi, Mike,” my dad said in a voice he used for his students, deep and full of facts. “How’s Millie?”

  “She seems okay today, thanks.”

  I waited for my dad to ask about Chad, but he didn’t. Instead, he said, “Where’ve you been, Apron?”

  Right then I knew I was in trouble. My dad sat back with his arms crossed and stared at me.

  “Getting The Boss out of here like you told me to. He’s up for adoption at Mike and Chad’s. I took the bus,” I told the floor.

  Mike turned to me, then back to my dad. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bramhall. I should have made her call you. I had a bit of an emergency and by the time I got back—”

  “Back?” my dad said, standing up.

  “She wasn’t alone. I didn’t leave Apron by herself—”

  I looked at Mike quicker than I should have. And then saw that my dad had watched me do that.

  “Who’d you leave her with?” my dad asked.

  “My friend, Chad,” Mike answered.

  “Chad?” my dad repeated, walking around his desk, getting bigger right before our very eyes. “Your friend with AIDS?”

  I turned to Mike. All this time I thought it was cancer, like my mom.

  Mike looked at me, then back to my dad. “Yes,” he said.

  “And you think that’s smart?” My dad stared at Mike without blinking.

  “Okay,” Mike nodded, backing up. “Got it.”

  “Wait!” I said.

  My dad shushed me. “Margie’s sleeping.”

  Mike turned and walked out the door.

  “Dad,” I pleaded. “Can I work at Scent Appeal this summer? I’ll take the bus. I don’t need anyone to drive me or pick me up, and I’ll call you if I’m going to be late, I promise.
” The words spilled out of my mouth faster than I could plan them. “Please?”

  “A job?” my dad chuckled, next to me now. “Are you kidding, Apron? You have plenty of jobs to do right here.”

  Something inside my chest snapped. There was no way I was going to be stuck with M ordering me around all summer. I grabbed a pile of paper from his desk and threw it on the ground. “You have no idea how much she hates me, Dad” I yelled. Then it hit me. “Actually, maybe you do, and you just don’t care.”

  I spun away and started after Mike. But behind me, my dad said, “Hold it. You’re not going anywhere, young lady!” So I turned toward the stairs just as the screen door slammed.

  38

  Malus bonum ubi se simulat, tunc est pessimus.

  A bad man is worst of all when he pretends to be a good one.

  M didn’t want a girl.

  I knew because she leaned her bad mood into my lobster and told me. “It is why I am so sick, because she is the girl. If she were a boy, I would be better.” She said this while my dad was outside checking on a screen that was ripped.

  I smiled oh well, and got up for some milk. I had already cleaned all the pans, even before serving the potatoes and hamburger meat I fried up. I told my dad I wasn’t going to be eating meat anymore, but my dad said, “Well, you can still cook it,” and left the package on the counter for me.

  Then he said, because that’s what I was going to be doing this summer, chores. And then maybe, when M could walk again without having to clunk around in her wooden shoe—it took her a whole phrase on the Wheel of Fortune to get down the stairs for dinner—I might be able to start doing things like a regular kid again. That was when he went to look at the ripped screen and M leaned over into my lobster.

  After Mike left, I hadn’t planned on coming out of my room, ever. But my dad knocked on my door and told me if I didn’t get downstairs and start helping with the dinner, he was going to make me clean out the entire garage. And that was just the beginning.