A Song For Julia Part 18

He stopped pacing, suddenly, and asked, "Why don't you get along with your mother?"

I held my breath. She must have said something to him before I came up here.

She took a deep breath and replied, "A few things, I guess. You know we lived in China most of my high school years? My parents ... they went through a rough time for a while, especially the first two years. And I ... I went through the worst experience in my life, and needed help, and didn't get it from her. Later on, when things got really bad after we came back to the States, it was like she judged me, you know? She didn't take the time to find out my side of the story, or listen, or be ... a mom. Instead it was all about controlling me and sometimes saying things that made me feel bad about myself. Really bad. All the while, I was protecting her."

Sean started pacing again. This was his way of working out his energy, but sometimes it had the opposite effect, winding him up even more. I wasn't sure what was happening here, because this was as real a conversation as I'd ever heard him have. He never talked about this stuff with us, that was for sure.

"My mom used to cry at night," he said. "All the time. I could hear her down the hall, and sometimes when she was crying, it was about me. Like I was a broken toy, and she wanted to return me to the store. Or get me fixed. Every day it was another doctor, and she would tell them all about what was wrong with me."

She looked up at him, her hair falling away from her face. "That must have been really hard."

"I want ... I-" He couldn't continue the sentence.

"You want your mother to love you the way you are?"

"Yes!" he cried out. And the d.a.m.nedest thing was, I could hear the sadness, the emotion in his voice. My brother, who was always, always monotone, unless he was angry. "Why won't she just accept me for who I am?"

He stopped pacing suddenly and slumped down to the floor next to her.

She answered, "Sometimes ... I think parents work so hard to keep us from making their mistakes, they won't allow us to make our own. I mean ... your mother loves you and wants the best for you. Anyone can see that. But she doesn't know how to say it, except ... to push."

"Can you really see it? I don't."

"Watch her expression."

"I don't ... I don't read expressions very well. They tried to teach me. My mother used to take me to social skills cla.s.ses and teachers. They'd show me pictures with little round stick figure faces, and I had to say what the expression was. This person is happy. This person is sad. But those were not real people. I look at real people, and I've got no idea what they think. What do you see?"

She turned to him, her expression somber. "I think your mother may be the saddest person I've ever seen."

He stared at the floor, and I could see the anger in his posture-his shoulders were hunched and his hands bunched into fists. "Because of me."

"No, I don't think so," Julia replied. "There's something else there. Yeah, tonight made her sad ... it broke her heart. But, there's something else, and I don't know what it is."

"You understand people," he said.

"Yes and no," she said and then sighed. "I've been ... we used to move all the time. Every three years, off to another country, another school, another life. And as the years went by, I got more and more isolated; it was harder and harder to make friends. I had to learn to read people pretty quickly. But when I started high school, I thought that was over."

"What happened?" he asked.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head against her knees. Then she said, "You have to promise not to tell anyone what I say. None of it. Especially Crank."

He blinked. Sean didn't make promises easily, because he knew how painful it was to have them broken. He thought about it, then said, "I promise."

She looked up and smiled weakly, but it wasn't a real smile, because a couple of tears were running down her face. "I don't talk about this much. But when I was fourteen, we moved to China. I went to this fantastic school there, where all the diplomatic kids from England and Australia and the US went. And I met this boy. He was a lot older than me. He was a senior, and I was a freshman."

She shuddered. "I thought I was in love with him. I was stupid, and inexperienced, and terribly vulnerable. And he took advantage of all my weaknesses."

Sean's forehead compressed into angry ridges. "Did he rape you?"

She shook her head. "Not really. I didn't say no. I didn't ... I didn't do anything. He kept saying if I loved him, I should want to make him happy. And that went on for a while, but I wasn't ready. Not in any way. It was like he ... like he dominated everything I did. He'd get mad if I talked to other boys in cla.s.s, and one time he squeezed my arm so hard it left bruises. I was afraid of him. And then ... I got pregnant."

Sean was openmouthed. And I knew I should walk away, I should not be listening to this conversation, especially after she'd made him promise not to tell me about it. But I'm ashamed to say I stayed. I wanted to know about her. I wanted to know everything about her.

"So, right before Christmas, he took me ... somewhere in Beijing. It's a huge city. Unbelievably huge. I was lost. There was a doctor there, and no one spoke English. I didn't even fully understand what was going on. So while I was in the exam room, having my insides sc.r.a.ped out by some doctor, he left."

She looked bleak as she spoke the words. I didn't know what to think, except that if I ever saw the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who did that to her, I'd kill him. But she kept talking, and it just got worse.

"I finally got out of there ... it was late afternoon and snowing. And I didn't speak much more Chinese than 'Where's the bathroom?' No one in that part of the city spoke English. I was lost and terrified and bleeding and ... it was a nightmare."

"What happened?" Sean asked.

She shrugged. "I finally found my way home. It was almost midnight, and my parents grounded me. And I tried to put my life back together. But my senior year, when I was in Bethesda, word got out."

Oh, G.o.d, I thought, closing my eyes.

"How?" Sean asked.

I opened my eyes. She smiled bitterly. "My best friend and I got into a fight right before I left China. And she emailed the story to everyone at our school, but twisted it. She had a picture. I don't know where she got it. But it was me, and I was drunk ... and ... anyway. One thing led to another, and the story got out with the students at my new school."

"Were they mean?"

She nodded. Her eyes were watery, bloodshot. "Yes. I know some people have worse problems, and it seems trivial. But I would walk down the halls, and hear them whisper, s.l.u.t and wh.o.r.e, and worse. Every day. No one would talk to me. No one would even be civil. And my mother-you have to understand, we were supposed to be in Russia. It was supposed to be the crown of my father's career, as Amba.s.sador to Russia. But because of the rumors, one of the Senators blocked his appointment for two years. So my parents weren't very understanding. I went home every night that year, locked myself in my room, and cried myself to sleep. I promised myself I'd never trust anyone again."

d.a.m.n, I thought, looking in. Her story was near enough to bringing me to tears, and a look in showed that Sean was crying. "Sometimes I feel like killing people who do stuff like that," he said, his tone vicious. "They do the same stuff to me sometimes. Call me names. Push me around."

She put her right arm around his shoulder. Usually, when someone touches Sean, he moves away and quickly. He didn't this time. "It gets better."

"How?" he asked, his voice full of grief.

"Time," she said. "Distance."

"But you said you'd never trust anyone again. Why did you tell me?"

She gave him a sad smile. "Because you're special. You're just like me. So I know I can trust you."

He didn't answer right away. It was like he was processing what she said, trying to make sense of it. To be honest, I was too.

After a couple minutes of silence, the two of them just sitting together, he said, "Last year, on my birthday, my dad gave me Grandpa's first police hat. And I wore it, all the time. The kids at school made fun of me. I know it was stupid. n.o.body at school wears things like that. But I liked it. When I was little I wanted to be a cop, like my dad. But one day, they grabbed me and pulled me in the bathroom, and stuffed it down the toilet."

I could see his fists clenched as he told the story, and his face was screwed up: angry, eyes narrowed, eyebrows drawn down. He looked like he wanted to slam a fist through a wall.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I got suspended for a week because I fought back. That's what always happens. They can push me around or hit me and get away with it, but if I do anything, I get punished. It's not even just at school. When Dad's National Guard unit was activated after September 11, I had to go live with Grandpa for a while. And he was just the same. I hate them."

Jesus. I knew it was bad for him. But I didn't know it was that bad.

She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms back around her knees again. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, Sean."

"Do you think I should apologize to my mom?"

I held my breath. Sean hadn't spoken to our mother in ... well, pretty much as long as me. And I was starting to realize, maybe I wasn't as innocent as I thought. I mean, I know kids, when their parents separate, always wonder if it was their fault.

But I've got pretty good reason to suspect it was mine.

After a few seconds, she answered him. "I think you should consider it. One of the things we have to learn to do in life is forgive people. And that's hard. But when you forgive someone, it helps you as much as it does them. Probably more."

"Do you think she'll forgive me?" he asked.

"For what you said to her?"

"No. For having Asperger's."

She took in a sharp breath. Jesus, that poor screwed up kid. Why did he think he needed forgiveness for being who he was? She didn't jump in with an off the cuff, immediate answer. She didn't say some empty phrase to rea.s.sure him. Instead, she thought about it and said, "I don't know your mom, Sean. But anyone can see she loves you. I think it's a start."

"I'll be down in a few minutes, then."

"Okay," she said. "I'll give you some time alone."

She leaned forward and rose from her sitting position. Then she stopped and turned toward him, knelt down, and kissed him on the top of his head.

I should have walked away, instead of standing there, obviously eavesdropping. As she approached the door, I heard Sean say to her, "Julia, will you be my friend? Even if you and Crank don't end up ..." He trailed off, unable to articulate whatever it was he'd intended to say.

She answered that immediately. "Sean ... I can't get involved with your brother. He's ... the one thing I have left in life is control. And I can't give that up. But being your friend? I already am."

Then she stepped out into the hall and nearly walked into me.

Immediately her face flashed fear. Not anger, which I expected. Rage, that I'd been eavesdropping, that I expected. Especially anger that I'd heard her secrets, that I'd heard her fear of loss of control. But instead, her eyes went wide when she saw me. It was definitely fear.

"How much of that did you hear?" she whispered.

"Too much," I replied.

She took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. She spoke quietly, but firmly. She was giving an order, her lips tight, her tone of voice demanding. "I don't need to say anything about you and me. But your brother-I'm his friend. Don't you dare get in the way of that."

And then she walked around me, back straight, her shoulders thrown back, and went down the stairs.

I stood there for a few more seconds, watching her go. And I couldn't do anything but admire her courage, her compa.s.sion. I wanted her. I wanted her so badly I was shaking. And for the first time since I was a preteen, standing up on a stage and shouting obscenities wasn't going to get me what I wanted.

I had no idea what to do.

CHAPTER TEN.

A little shaky (Julia) It was time for me to go. I'd b.u.t.ted my way into one too many family arguments already tonight, but something about Sean made me fiercely protective. He was a good kid-a nice kid who had been through way too much and didn't even understand why other people thought he was odd.

My stomach turned at the thought that Crank had overheard my discussion with Sean. That he knew what Harry had done to me. I never discussed it with anyone. Ever. Once I had with Lana. She was the only person in the world other than Harry and me who knew the whole story, and look what she'd done. She'd used it to hurt me.

I hadn't planned on suddenly trusting anyone. But this was much worse-I certainly hadn't planned on trusting someone with it unintentionally. And while I was intrigued by Crank and more than a little attracted to him, I didn't trust him. Handsome, charming man? No. Never again.

Mrs. Doyle was gone when I got back downstairs. Jack, Tony and Margot were sitting at the kitchen table, a beer in front of each of them. It was six o'clock already, dark outside and probably cold as h.e.l.l, and I'd taken the T to South Boston rather than driving. Which meant I'd have to get a ride from Crank back to Broadway Station when he came back downstairs. I could walk it, but as cold as it was outside, I really, really didn't want to.

Maybe I could get a ride with Tony instead.

"Sit down, grab a beer," Jack said to me.

Tony leaned over toward the fridge, still in his seat, and pulled a bottle of beer out for me. I twisted the top off and took a seat. I would need to go soon, but at the very least, I had to wait until Sean and Crank came back down.

"I want to apologize," Jack said. "I'm sorry you had to see all that."

I shook my head. "It's okay. I've got a family, too-I get it. Things happen we wish ... hadn't."

Jack and Margot both gave me odd, curious looks after I said that. I ignored them. I'd done all the sharing I was planning on doing for the next five years. I already felt raw, exposed. Normally I walked around in a coc.o.o.n of quiet, as if my emotions were wounds packed with cotton and gauze. Now that protective cover felt as if it had been ripped off and might start bleeding again any moment.

"It's time I got going," Margot said.

Jack sighed, and the look of longing in his face couldn't be ignored. I didn't understand what had happened to Jack and Margot, but whatever it was, it hadn't dimmed their love for each other.

"I'll walk you out," he said.

They stood, and that's when Sean appeared in the doorway, trailed by Crank.

"Mama?" Sean's face looked open and vulnerable, though his eyes were turned away, focused on the wall.

She looked as if the weight of all the regrets in the world had slammed into her, leaving her gasping for breath. "Yes, Sean?" she said.

When he spoke, his tone was subtly different than normal. I'd mostly heard him sounding monotone, his voice pitched just a little higher and louder than normal conversation. Now, he spoke quietly, and there was a rich undertone of sorrow in his words. "I'm sorry."

At the words, her eyes instantly went red and wet with tears. The look of relief on her face was painful to watch. She slowly approached him. His eyes were still turned away, but he put his arms out and very awkwardly hugged her.

Margot choked back a sob. "I love you, baby," she whispered.

They broke apart, and she looked at him, and he looked at the wall.

"I'll come see you again soon. Is that okay?"

He nodded his head, stiffly, his eyes still looking off toward the wall. "I'd like that."

I covered my mouth with my right hand and sniffed. It almost hurt to watch the awkward, painful interchange between them. This was too much. Too much emotion, too much pain, just too much. I needed to get back to my room, get a good book to read, and escape. Get grounded again, get back in control of the feelings that were twisting through me like a storm, tearing down levees and buildings and leaving me directionless and confused. Jack and Margot walked out into the living room, and Sean walked out as well, without a word to the rest of us. I didn't know what it had cost him to make that apology. But I knew he'd gained a lot more from it.

I stood, a little shaky. "Crank ... can I get a ride from you to Broadway station?"

"I'll take you home," he said.