While I'm Falling Part 16

We were in front of the Union. She eased the van into a delivery zone, right next to the curb. I took out my phone, but I didn't dial.

"Mom," I said, as gently as I could, a swelling moving up in my throat. "I don't want you to have to meet them. You could just wait in the Union with Bowzer while I take them home. I did this, Mom. I'm the one who screwed up. Really. You'll be helping me enough if you just let me borrrow the van."

She appeared to listen to my little speech. But when I finished, she only shook her head. "Everybody makes mistakes," she said. "He's hara.s.sing you. It's not okay."

"I just don't think you're in the best shape right now." Again I tried to make my voice gentle. I didn't want to hurt her feelings. "I don't know that you'll be able to help so much, with...everything you have going on."

She looked away, blinking quickly. I a.s.sumed she was about to cry. But she only took a deep breath, her gaze moving to the windshield, the wipers beating back and forth.

"I disagree," she said. "I think this is actually an excellent time for me to help you. Because you're exactly wrong. I really don't have anything else going on right now. Or nothing important. Nothing good." She glanced down at Bowzer, smoothing her hand across his back. "I know you messed up. And I know you're not blameless. But I don't like anybody talking to you like that."

I nodded slowly, my eyes on hers. She looked at me and shrugged. Her words were worrisome, but something hard in her eyes made me feel a little encouraged.

Jimmy seemed unsure about climbing into the back. My mother had already used the little b.u.t.ton by the steering wheel to unlock and open the sliding side door. But he just stood there in the rain, a smaller version of himself in my side-view mirror, his messenger bag flat over his head. He seemed concerned with the amount of stuff in the back, the lamps, the bag of dog food, the cardboard boxes. Haylie peered over his shoulder from several feet back, waiting under the portico to see what he would do before she ventured out into the downpour. Neither one had an umbrella.

"There's room for both of you on that first seat, I think." My mother leaned back between our seats, her mouth in a bright, tight smile. "You might just have to move that afghan. You can put it on the floor. It's okay. I have it there for the dog."

He bent forward, maybe just to see what was underneath the afghan, but Haylie must have taken his movement as a green light. She dashed out into the rain with her arms over her head, her heeled boots skipping over puddles. I heard her push herself past him before she fell into the seat behind my mother. I tucked my hair behind my ear and looked at her over my shoulder. She was wearing the shiny red raincoat, but her hair was wet and plastered against her face. Mascara trailed under each of her eyes. She glared at me and opened her mouth to say something that I imagined would not be nice. But then my mother turned around, too. Haylie's mouth closed, and her eyes widened. A kangaroo might have been sitting in the driver's seat. She looked that uncertain, that surprised.

"Hi!" My mother held Bowzer close to her chest and turned back a little more in her seat. "My goodness! Haylie b.u.t.terfield! How long has it been? Oh, and look at your hair, so dark now. Veronica told me you'd changed it."

Haylie nodded, glancing to her right as Jimmy climbed into his seat.

"You remember me, right? Veronica's mom? We all made granola bars in my kitchen?" She tilted Bowzer so he was facing Haylie. "Bowzer was there. You remember Haylie, don't you, Bowz?" She spoke to him kindly, softly. "You were just a puppy then, but you remember her, right?"

I heard grunting behind me. "I can't shut the f.u.c.king door! How does it shut? h.e.l.lo? It's f.u.c.king raining!"

"Let go of it, please." My mother sounded like a flight attendant-polite, but confident in her authority. "I've got the control up here." She touched the b.u.t.ton by the steering wheel, and the sliding door buzzed to a quiet, pnuematic close.

"It stinks in here."

His knees pressed hard against the back of my seat. I sat still, staring straight ahead. My mother turned around and looked at him.

"What?" He shifted his weight, his knees jabbing higher on my back. "Why are we just sitting here? We're soaked, if you can't tell. Are we going to f.u.c.king move?"

My mother did not answer. She continued to look at him. Her expression was difficult to read.

"I'm Veronica's mother," she said finally. "That was actually me you just spoke with on the phone."

Silence. I listened to the rain, my fingers tight around the diagonal strap of my seat belt. But I felt something close to hope. My mother was very nice, and she usually brought out niceness in others. Also, there was just the fact that she was older. He might act differently around her.

Jimmy's knees moved again. "Enchanted, I'm sure. Why are we just sitting here? And Jesus, what the f.u.c.k stinks?"

I thought she would make him get out. Once, when Elise and I were young and nagging her from the backseat about something, she'd made us get out and walk. I've had it! I've had it! she'd yelled. she'd yelled. I've had it with the whining! Both of you, get out! Get out now! I've had it with the whining! Both of you, get out! Get out now! We hadn't been far from home, less than a mile, I think; but still, when she pulled over and told us to get out of the van, we hadn't really believed she would do it until we were standing together on the sidewalk, watching the back of the van as she drove away. We hadn't been far from home, less than a mile, I think; but still, when she pulled over and told us to get out of the van, we hadn't really believed she would do it until we were standing together on the sidewalk, watching the back of the van as she drove away.

But she didn't make Jimmy and Haylie get out. She only turned around and put the van in gear. "Buckle up," she said cheerily. The childproof locks clicked in unison, and we glided away from the curb.

"So, Haylie, how's your mom doing?" My mother glanced briefly over her shoulder.

There was, of course, no answer from the back. I a.s.sumed my mother was not trying to be mean. She'd really just forgotten about Haylie's name change. I turned back a little, just enough to see Haylie's face. She wore bright red lipstick that set off her pale cheeks and matched her raincoat. But she was shivering, staring out the window, her arms crossed tight over her chest.

"Who the f.u.c.k is Haylie?" Jimmy asked.

She glanced at him, and then at me, and then out the window again. It should have been satisfying, maybe; but the look on her face was so miserable that I only felt embarra.s.sed for seeing it.

"Haylie?" My mother tilted the rearview mirror toward her. "I'm sorry. Did you hear me? I asked how your mom was doing?"

I looked at my mother and shook my head. "It's Simone," I said. "She goes by Simone now."

"Oh. That's right. Sorry. Simone? What's your mom up to these days? I haven't talked to her since..." She glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes slightly lowered. "Since she moved. I've been wondering about her. And your little brother. What is he, fourteen now? Where's he going to school?"

"They're fine," Haylie said. Her teeth were chattering.

My mother waited.

Haylie cleared her throat. "He's in Oregon," she said. "He's staying with my aunt."

My mother asked no more questions. She must have understood, as I did, that Haylie's little brother living with relatives implied that Haylie's mother was probably not fine at all. It was just five or so years earlier that Haylie's brother, dressed like a robot, had come to our door for Halloween candy. Haylie's father, preembezzlement charge, had stood out on the sidewalk with a video camera. Neither of them could have known, as Haylie and her mother could not have known, how much everything would soon change for them all.

"Again." Jimmy sounded tired, put upon. "Who the f.u.c.k is Haylie?"

"Excuse me," my mother said, glancing back at him. "You're going to have to watch your language."

I held my breath. If he got angry enough, trapped in the backseat with the childproof locks and nowhere to go, it seemed likely that I would be the one he lashed out at. He could, theoretically, reach over the seat and thump me on the head, or yank up hard on my seat belt. I wondered if she had considered any of this.

"Thanks for the lesson, Mrs. Old Person. But if I were you, I'd be a little more worried about my selfish b.i.t.c.h of daughter not having respect for other people's things."

We stopped at a light. My mother turned back to look at him again.

"Here," she said quietly, using both hands to lift Bowzer over the gears and into my lap. Maybe she was just tired of driving with the weight on her arm. But I imagined Jimmy was staring hard back at her, and she wanted the dog out of his view.

The light changed. Bowzer fell into me when we rolled forward. I put both arms around him, my right arm under his chin. I would get dog hair on my coat, I knew. And he smelled so bad that I had to take shallow breaths through my mouth. But he was also deaf, oblivious to Jimmy, and I was comforted by his presence, and his long, contented sigh.

"She wrecked your car because of an ice storm." My mother glanced in her rearview mirror. "It happens."

"Uh-huh." I could tell by Jimmy's voice that he was leaning back, farther away. "And trashing my house with a party? That just happens? I see where she gets her morals. s.h.i.t's missing, okay? Like three hundred dollars' worth of music. Does that just happen, too?"

My mother glanced at me. I was still sunk down below the headrest, so I felt safe to shake my head a little back and forth.

"You'll probably just have to get over that." She turned onto the main road that would lead us out to the town house. She'd always had a good memory for directions. "You know? Chalk it up to poor judgment from all of you? Life isn't fair, Jimmy. Sometimes you just have to cut your losses and move on."

I held my breath and watched the rain, the puddles in potholes bubbling.

"Wow. That's so Zen of you, Mom." His words were clipped. "Great. Now we know where you stand. How about this-I'll invite some of my friends over to your house. We'll see how you get over it." He leaned forward. I felt the pull of one of his hands on my seat. "I can find out where you live."

She glanced up in the rearview mirror and smiled. "You're going to have your work cut out for you there."

Of course he didn't understand, even with all the furniture and junk in the back.

"Don't be so sure," he said. "I know a lot of people. I know people who know their way around gates and intercoms. I can find out where you live in a day."

She turned another corner and glanced at me, still grinning, her eyes wide, her eyebrows raised. "Okay. Well. When you find out, let me know!" There was a long silence. Unbelievably, stupidly, I laughed.

"Oh. You think this is funny?"

I stopped laughing. My mother squinted at the windshield, her head c.o.c.ked, as if she were really considering the question. "Not this," she said. "Not this specifically. It's not funny. But other things are."

I sat very still, waiting, trying to remember what I had learned in the self-defense unit in high school gym. If he came after me, reaching around my seat, or if he went after her, I would bury my dorm key in between my fingers and hit him as hard as I could. I would go right for the bolt in his nose, or, more precisely, the tender pink skin all around it. I would put Bowzer on the floor mat, holding him safely between my feet, and use my elbow like a lance.

"This is f.u.c.king bulls.h.i.t. You know what?" His knee dug into the seat again, just behind my spine. "I'm done with this. I tried to be nice, but now I'm done. My car will be ready by Friday. Until then, I'll just call a cab." He leaned forward, looking at me. "And you can pay for it. You. Not me."

"She doesn't have any money." My mother leaned forward and wiped the mist off the windshield with the back of her glove. She had the defrost on high, but all the talking, and Bowzer's steady panting, had fogged up the windows. "See?" She gestured behind her, to the back of the van. "I don't have any money either. This is a blood from a turnip situation, Jimmy. I don't know if it's fair or not, but that's the way it is."

He yelled some more. He moved around a lot in the backseat. My mother watched him warily in her mirror, as if he were a sack of groceries she worried would overturn. But we were almost there. We were driving alongside the golf course now, rain falling hard on the soggy gra.s.s, all the gentle slopes deserted. Haylie rode with her face completely turned to her window. And Bowzer rode calmly on my lap, protected by old ears and senility, blissfully unaware.

We pulled into the driveway. Before the van had even stopped, Jimmy started pulling on the door.

"Let me out," he said. "Let me out of this f.u.c.king stinking car."

"Just one moment." My mother turned around. "Don't call my daughter anymore. She can't help you. She doesn't have a car."

He was still trying to force the lock, hitting the door with his hand. I turned halfway around. Haylie remained perfectly still, facing out her side window.

"I'm keeping your phone," he said. "I'm not giving it back."

He sounded pathetic. He sounded like a little boy. Maybe he had the whole time, but I only heard it then. I turned around the rest of the way. "You're going to steal my mother's phone?"

"Just turn the f.u.c.k back around," he said. "I don't want to look at your face." He winced as if truly pained. "I can't stand to look at your face. I can't stand people like you. Miss Goody Two Shoes, phony b.i.t.c.h. You go running to Mommy and Daddy anytime there's a problem." He pointed at himself. "I don't know anything about that. I've been on my own since I was fifteen. Completely self-supporting." He thumped his chest. "On my f.u.c.king own. n.o.body helping me. n.o.body."

His hand trembled a little at his chest, and the conviction in his eyes seemed real; but there was something about the way he delivered the speech that seemed like he had delivered it, maybe verbatim, many, many times before. He was stuck in it. I saw it right away. You could get stuck in a speech like that.

My mother took Bowzer from me. I continued to look at Jimmy until he looked away.

"Let me out of this f.u.c.king car." He pounded a fist on the window.

My mother clicked open the locks. The door slid open behind me. When Haylie started moving, too, both my mother and I turned around. I don't know what else we thought she might do. She lived in the town house. All her stuff was inside. She didn't look at either one of us before she followed Jimmy out into the rain.

"He still has your phone," I said. I started to open my door, but my mother held my arm and pulled me back.

"Let him have it." She looked over her shoulder before backing out of the driveway. "If it makes him feel better to have it, he can have it. I'll need a new number anyway."

"He could make calls on it," I said. I was feeling grateful and also guilty. I wanted to go back and at least try for the phone. "You could get charged."

"Yeah. I'm so worried about my credit."

I smiled, and then I felt guilty about that. It really wasn't that funny. But she seemed fine, not just about the phone, but about everything, as if she really believed what she'd told Jimmy: sometimes fair just wasn't going to happen; after a while, you had to cut your losses and move on.

She drove with her shoulders back, her chin raised, Bowzer balanced, once again, on her left arm.

"Thanks," I said. "Thanks for your help."

"No problem." She reached over to pat my leg, but she didn't look away from the road.

My conversations that night, with Marley and with Tim, blur together in my memory. It is somewhat surprising, since visually, at least, they were very different experiences. When I spoke with Marley, she stood in her doorway, looking up at me with small, piercing eyes. Tim and I talked in his car, parked just outside the dorm; even sitting, I had to look up at him, the top of his head almost grazing the roof. And he was smiling, happy to see me, at first.

In both cases, my apologies were not accepted. In both cases, I tried to explain myself, and failed. But neither one yelled or got angry. They weren't like Jimmy, bent on making me pay. They just wanted to retreat, to get and stay away from me. And really, that felt worse.

I had meant to talk to Tim in my room. But my mother was taking a nap, stretched out on the guest bed with Bowzer at her side, her hat rolled down over her eyes. "Just a catnap," she'd mumbled, before drifting off, the window still gold with afternoon light. Two hours later, she was still asleep, and I went down to the lobby to wait for Tim.

I told him everything at once: what I'd done, how much I wished I hadn't; how much I already missed him; and how I had just been scared about moving in. He didn't say anything. He put his hands on the wheel, hugging it toward him a little. We peered at each other under the orange glow of a parking lot light, our expressions remarkably similar, eyebrows lowered, lips pursed. I told him I still wanted to be with him. I told him I was still having a hard time with my parents' divorce. I maybe went on a little too long, until finally, he interrupted me and told me, in the nicest way possible, that what he wanted was for me to get out of the car.

And so I did. His reaction was what I'd expected, in my head at least. It was what I deserved.

But I thought things might go better with Marley. I didn't want to take advantage of her loneliness, but I a.s.sumed it would work in my favor. Even after she started to close her door on me, I asked her if she wanted to go to dinner. She said she'd eaten. I have to admit, I was surprised. Up until she actually closed the door in my face, it seemed impossible that even Marley might decide that she didn't need me around after all.

13.

NATALIE WOKE IN DARKNESS, forgetting, for a moment, where she was. Her knit hat was still rolled down over her eyes, and even after she pulled it off, she couldn't see. Out of habit, she moved to her left; in her apartment, she'd always slept far to the left on her queen bed, even after a year of sleeping alone. But now, trying to rise, she b.u.mped her forehead on the cool, cement wall of her daughter's dorm room. She lay back down. Bowzer, lying beside her, sighed from deep in his throat. forgetting, for a moment, where she was. Her knit hat was still rolled down over her eyes, and even after she pulled it off, she couldn't see. Out of habit, she moved to her left; in her apartment, she'd always slept far to the left on her queen bed, even after a year of sleeping alone. But now, trying to rise, she b.u.mped her forehead on the cool, cement wall of her daughter's dorm room. She lay back down. Bowzer, lying beside her, sighed from deep in his throat.

"You're okay, boy." She reached over to rub the fur behind his ears. Even the back of his head felt thin. But he rolled toward her, hind legs kicking. She smiled. He still got some pleasure out of being alive. When he didn't, she would take him in. She would.

She got up, this time on the right side, and groped her way across the room to turn on the overhead light. She didn't know where Veronica was. Her books and backpack sat on her desk. Her coat was on the hook. There was no note saying where she had gone or when she might be back. Of course, she didn't need to leave a note for her mother. Veronica was an adult; she could come and go as she pleased.

Natalie cracked open the door, and peeked out in both directions. She hoped Veronica was down the hall, talking with Marley. Earlier, she'd wanted to remind her to do it, but she'd stopped herself. She could still get away with reminding her daughter to take care of her teeth and to sit up straight, but regarding the big things, it seemed to her, the die was already cast.

She closed the door and turned, looking around the room. She was pretty sure Veronica would go talk to Marley. Despite what the incredibly unpleasant Jimmy had said, she did not think her younger daughter was selfish or thoughtless, at least not characteristically so. She'd been careless lately. She'd shown some poor judgment. But she had always been sensitive to other people's feelings. Elise was, too, under all that bl.u.s.ter, but between the two of them, Natalie thought of Veronica as having the softer heart. She was maybe four the day they were stopped at a railroad crossing, watching a coal train roll past, just the two of them in the old station wagon. For years, they'd spent their days together; Dan was at work, and Elise was in grade school. On the day she and Veronica were stopped for the train, Natalie had just read an article in a parenting magazine that advised her to seize educational moments, so she turned around to explain to Veronica what coal was, what it was used for, and where it came from. Veronica listened patiently in her booster seat, little legs dangling, brown eyes thoughtfully watching the train roll by, until Natalie got to the part about dinosaurs.

And then there were tears. Veronica raised her arms to her mother, like some pleading, painted saint in a Little Mermaid T-shirt. "Why did they all die? Even the moms? Even the kids? Did it hurt?"

Natalie almost laughed, but caught herself: the anguish on her daughter's face was real. As the train thundered by, she did her best to convince Veronica that extinction, when it came to dinosaurs, wasn't that sad. For one, she pointed out, dinosaurs weren't that nice. They sometimes ate each other! They had sharp teeth and claws! More importantly, if they hadn't all died, they would probably be eating people, if people were even around. She tried to keep her voice cheerful, upbeat.

"They had to make room for us, honey, for everything new. And now we have coal! And oil, honey! It makes the car go!"

Even after the train had pa.s.sed, and their own car was once again moving forward on the energy of dead dinosaurs, Veronica was in-consolable.