Deep Down True (18 page)

“I’m sorry I can’t talk to you right now,” Dana told her, “I’m on a call.” She pretended to listen intently to the banana. “Well, I’ll check. But I’m sure she’s not here.” She looked at the girl. “You’re not Lolly McPherson, are you?”

“Yes! Laura Jean McPherson! But
she
calls me Lolly.” She pointed an accusing little finger at her mother.

“Well, it must be because you’re so sweet,” said Dana, catching Mrs. McPherson’s quick eye roll. She handed the banana to Laura. “When you’re done talking, could you peel it for me? I’m a little hungry.” Mrs. McPherson actually laughed.

Laura held the banana to her ear. “Hello?” she said, joining in the gag. “That’s too silly! Stop calling me!” and she hung up, landing the banana on her thigh. She laughed and looked up at Dana for approval, and Dana giggled back. The price check completed, the clerk was ringing up the man’s groceries again.

Mrs. McPherson sighed. “Thank you,” she murmured to Dana. “I was getting ready to take her and just leave the groceries here.” Laura entertained herself with repeated hang-ups on her banana phone as Mrs. McPherson began unloading her cart. “I wouldn’t usually bring her out so late, but she was giving me such a hard time about going to bed, and my husband’s too weak to handle her these days. The minute she turned four, she got so stubborn!”

“My daughter’s pretty stubborn, too,” Dana commiserated. “And she’s twelve, so she doesn’t fit in the cart anymore.”

“I’m in trouble when that day comes.” Mrs. McPherson shook her head. “I always shop at night so I don’t have to bring them. I can’t imagine what single mothers do without a husband to hold down the fort.”

Dana didn’t know how to respond at first. It was as if Mrs. McPherson were talking about something that would never apply to her.

“Actually,” said Dana, “I’m a single mom myself—divorced. It’s tough, but you get used to it.” She immediately regretted using the word “you,” having meant it only in the general sense.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean . . .” said Mrs. McPherson, embarrassed.

“No, it’s fine,” Dana assured her, relieved that the other woman hadn’t noticed her gaffe.

“And you cook dinners for us on top of it all!”

“I like to,” said Dana. “I really do.”

The bags were loaded in the cart, and Laura handed her the banana. “It’s for you.” She grinned.

Dana took it and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. President, but I can’t talk to you now. Please call back later.” She waved to Laura as her mother wheeled her out.

 

 

While Dana was driving home, her cell phone rang. “Hey there,” said a deep voice. “It’s Jack. I called the house, and your daughter said you were out. But I didn’t leave a message with her, just in case.”

“In case?”

“In case you hadn’t told the kids about us.”

Us,
thought Dana. The word hummed like a warm breath in her ear. “Good thinking.”

“So I pulled Grady’s emergency contact form from my football folder to get your cell number.” He laughed and added, “Course, it’s a misuse of official information. But what the heck, right? Live dangerously!”

Dana chuckled appreciatively. “Well, now you have it,” she said, a hint of coyness creeping into her voice, “so you don’t have to go stealing it next time.”

“That’s right,” he teased back. “It’s all mine, now.”

This is flirting,
she thought.
I am actually flirting!

Jack presented his plan for their date: he’d gotten two tickets to Saturday’s UConn football game. “Because I know how much you love football.” The certainty in his voice made her wonder momentarily if he might be right. “I’ll be by to grab you around three,” he was saying.

“Sounds great!” she said. “I went to UConn, you know.”

“No kidding!” Then he gave a little sigh. “I know I’m supposed to act cool, but I gotta tell you, I am really excited about this. It’s been a long time since I met someone who gave me that feeling of... you know . . .”

“Of just being really
pumped.
You are one special lady, and it’s going to be great.”

 

 

Dana wasn’t asleep when Morgan came into the soft blackness of her bedroom, but just at the edge of consciousness, when sensible thoughts take unexpected turns.
The lawn mower needs servicing. I’ll get Alder to help me put it in the back of the minivan, and then I’ll raise the sail and let the wind take me out across the pond . . .

Sheets rustling, bed creaking, a pillow being pushed up next to hers. “Mom?”

“Nuh?” snorted Dana, her head twitching in the direction of Morgan’s voice.

“Mom, I feel bad.”

“Okay,” Dana muttered numbly.

“I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Lied?” said Dana. She was awake now.

“About the barfing.” A hand slid onto Dana’s forearm and pulled at the loose skin around her elbow. “I should have told you.”

Dana shifted onto her side to face Morgan. A pale sliver of light sifted in around the door and cast itself across the girl’s face. “Tell me now,” she murmured.

“It’s just . . . I just feel so fat sometimes.”

But you’re not!
Dana wanted to say.
You’re beautiful!
Yet she knew there was no traction in that approach. When had a mother’s good opinion of her daughter’s looks ever counted?
Facts,
Dana told herself.
Start with those.
“When did it start?” she asked.

“April vacation, when it got so hot and we had to go out and buy all new shorts because last year’s didn’t fit me. Remember that?”

Dana had only a vague image of it. The divorce had just been finalized, and she’d been in an almost constant state of distraction by the terrifying realization of her aloneness. The only thing she remembered was a similar look of terror on Morgan’s face in the dressing room as she realized she was two sizes bigger. “Yes, but, sweetie, you’re not done growing yet. Of course you need bigger clothes than you wore a year ago.”

“Mom, stop, okay? Don’t always give, like,
answers.
”

Dana sighed. S
hut up, she’s telling me. Just listen to her saying senseless things and keep my mouth shut.

“So a lot of girls do it, and I tried it,” Morgan said.

“A lot of girls?”

“Well, some. Or some girls just eat a peach or maybe a bag of chips for lunch. The baked kind.”

“
Where
did you try it?”

“Here. You were at the lawyer’s, signing stuff with Dad, and Grady was . . . I don’t know, somewhere. I came home and ate a whole thing of ice cream. It was butter pecan, and I knew you wouldn’t notice because it was Dad’s favorite, left over from when he lived with us. There was, like, snow all over the top, but I scraped it off and pigged out.” The image of Morgan sitting alone with her father’s freezer-burned ice cream was heartbreaking to Dana.

Oblivious to this, Morgan went on, “I felt so sick I thought I was going to barf, but I didn’t. And I was kind of disappointed, because I wanted all that ice cream
out.
You know how that feels? When you eat too much and you just want it
out
?”

Of course she did. All too well. “Yes,” Dana whispered. “I do.”

“So I went in the bathroom and put my finger down my throat. It’s gross, and it kinda hurts. But afterward I felt way better. And . . . I don’t know . . . mature. Because you weren’t home, and neither was Dad, of course. But I handled it. I solved it myself, like Dad always says to.”

Dana was glad Morgan couldn’t see her face.
I could honestly kill him,
she thought, though she wasn’t sure whom she blamed more—Kenneth or herself.

“But I stopped,” said Morgan. “It was sort of taking over. I’d wake up and think about when to do it and what I’d eat and stuff. It was really distracting, so I stopped about a month ago.”

And there it was—the lie Dana had somehow known was waiting for her. “Morgan,” she said, “did you throw up the night of your party? I’m asking you to be honest with me.”

There was no answer at first. “Yeah,” she said finally.

“Honey,
why
?”

“I was just really worried the party would bomb and everyone would think I was a freak.”

“But it
didn’t
bomb. It went really well.”

“I know, but just because something isn’t bombing now, that doesn’t mean it won’t completely bomb a minute from now.”

This was true, of course. Bombs dropped out of thin air all the time. Or just sat there ticking.

Morgan promised she was done with purging. It was behind her. And besides, she insisted, everything was going really well now. She was almost best friends with one of the most popular girls in school. Everyone liked her. Everything was fine.

D
R. SAKIMOTO WAS ANSWERING HIS OWN PHONE. When Dana called the next morning, his distinctive baritone, with that oddly casual grumble to it, said, “Cotters Rock Dental, can I help you?”

“Tony?” she said, surprising herself. When had she gotten so comfortable calling him Tony?

“Yes?”

“It’s Dana Stellgarten.”

“Dana,” he said with obvious delight. “Don’t tell me your tooth is acting up. That was some of my best work.”

“No, it’s fine. Great, really.” She dabbed the tip of her tongue at the tooth, realizing she’d hardly given it a second thought. “Actually, I, uh . . . I was calling to ask if you were still interested in my help—temporarily—as a receptionist.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Well, no, I’m not . . . but if you’ve already—”

“This is terrific!” he said. “You are completely making my day.”

“I hope your day won’t get unmade when you find out I can only manage part-time . . .”

“Dana, you’re a single mom with young kids at home. I figured full-time wasn’t in the cards.”

Yes!
thought Dana, giving the kitchen table a soundless little slap.

The conversation that ensued was measured by bits of negotiation interspersed with his now-familiar banter. “Be sure to bring your knitting,” he told her. “Or whatever hobby you have.”

“Pottery,” she quipped. “I’ll just clear a space for my wheel in the waiting room.”

The compensation he offered was reasonable, and he felt he could manage with her leaving at three o’clock most days if she was willing to handle any straggling issues the following morning. However, on Wednesdays he worked from noon until eight, and he hoped she could find a way to get the kids covered for that one day each week.

“Oh, I can manage that,” Dana said, though she had no idea how. Despite this hitch, Dana felt a tingle of victory. She had done it. As of Monday morning, she would officially be employed.

 

 

“Dad,
please
!” begged Morgan. She faced him in the dining room that night, dressed in her coolest jeans and skimpiest shirt. “Mom’ll drive me to your house. Kimmi’s
waiting
for me!”

Kenneth struggled to leash his features into a false composure, but the clenching of his molars made his temples throb with fury. “Mom should have checked with me first about that—”

“Morgan,” Dana warned, “I told you it was only if Dad didn’t mind.”

“—but since she didn’t feel the need,” Kenneth continued, “
I
have to be the bad guy.”

“Oh, my God, Dad,
why
? I’ll be with you the
whole weekend.
And I’ll be extra cooperative—I won’t fight with Grady or ignore Tina, I promise. But you
have
to let me go to Kimmi’s!”

Kenneth shot Dana a murderous look. “Morgan.” His voice strained for patience. “It’s Tina’s birthday today. She’s turning thirty, and she really wants it to be special. Special means
all four
of us together to celebrate her birthday. It is
not
optional.”

Morgan turned to Dana and wailed,
“Mom!”

“Sweetie, I had no idea Dad had plans. We should’ve checked with him before—”

“I HATE YOU BOTH!” screamed Morgan, and she stomped out of the room.

Kenneth pulled himself to his full height. “Do you have any idea of how badly you’ve undermined me? She’s going to mope all night now and ruin Tina’s birthday. I have half a mind to let her go to her damned friend’s house, just to keep her from hurting Tina’s feelings!”

Dana felt bad, but not about the potential ruin of Kenneth’s evening. There was a tiny alarm going off in the back of her mind:
Tina is turning thirty, and she’s insisting on spending her birthday with Kenneth AND his children?
“All four of us,” he’d said. That’s what special means.
That’s what special
used
to mean,
thought Dana.
Except
I
was one of the four.

“It was an accident,” she told him dryly. “That’s all I can say.” Then she went out to the backyard, where Morgan held her arms wrapped around herself, weeping with fury and self-pity.

“And I can’t believe you told Mr. Kresgee!” Morgan wailed.

So she’d finally talked with the guidance counselor. “Honey, I was worried about you,” said Dana. “I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“Mom, he came to get me in the lunchroom.
At lunchtime,
” she hissed. “I almost
died.
”

Dana could only imagine how embarrassing it must have been to be singled out so publicly. How could a school counselor be that clueless? “Did it help, at least?” she asked, knowing the answer before she’d finished asking the question.

Morgan shuddered at the memory. “He wears corduroys and he smells like mustard. I am
never
talking to him again.”

 

 

Finally Morgan calmed down, and Kenneth herded both kids out to his car. And as much as Dana missed them on their weekends away, the quiet that settled over the house was a welcome relief. She trudged upstairs to get ready for Nora Kinnear’s cocktail party, but nothing in her closet seemed right. She tried on every pair of pants she owned, finally deciding on the black jeans.
Jeans, casual,
she told herself.
Black, not too casual.
Finding the right shirt was hopeless, so that took much less time. The smell of beef stew met her at the bottom of the stairs—dinner for the McPhersons! In all the fuss with Kenneth and Morgan, she had nearly forgotten. Thankfully, the crusty bread, buttered peas, and apple crumb cake were already packaged up.