Hope Girl (21 page)

After a million games of hide-and-seek and duck, duck, goose and red light, green light, Uncle Henry and Aunt Elizabeth finally come home. On their way, they bought twelve Italian subs—one for each of us. They also bought potato chips and grape soda.

We sit on a blanket under their maple tree, where the shade is cool. It feels good after playing in the hot sun all afternoon.

Everyone's quiet and eating their subs, when all of a sudden, Rebecca points to Rosa and asks me, “Is she your mommy?”

I try to keep calm since everyone's watching. “No, Rebecca, Rosa is Carlos's mom. Why would you think she's mine?”

Rebecca giggles and says, “Because I saw your daddy kiss her, and that makes them married.”

I'm still burning with anger.

Just then Dad gets up from the blanket. “I was going to wait until I talked with River,” he says, “but since the subject came up,
and everyone's here, this seems like the perfect opportunity. He takes Rosa's hand and pulls her up. “Rosa and I are getting married.”

Uncle Henry, Aunt Elizabeth, the little Whippoorwills, and Carlos clap. Everyone but me. I can't do anything but try to keep the lump in my throat from getting bigger.

Then he adds, “And we plan to get married sooner than later—as in this coming Saturday.”

Grape soda spurts from Uncle Henry's mouth, and Aunt Elizabeth nearly chokes on her sub.

Dad puts his arm around Rosa. “I know it's fast, but when two adults know what they want, what's the sense in waiting?”

I try jumping up from the blanket but end up catching myself before falling flat on my face. Once I'm up, I shout, “I'll tell you what the sense in waiting is! Because you're supposed to wait until Mom gets my letter and remembers everything! She's going to want to be with us again! And if you marry Rosa, you'll mess everything up!”

Dad looks at me. “River, whether she remembers or not, your mother has a new life—she's remarried now. We'll never be back together. I need a new life too.”

I don't care how stupid I look running, so I run all the way home to my bedroom and slam the door.

I want to fall asleep so I can forget about everything. But I'm too angry to fall asleep, too angry to write in my diary, and too angry to cry.

“Okay, God, why are you letting this happen? I thought you were going to work things out. Maybe you could make Dad hold off on his wedding plans so Mom has more time to remember. What's going to happen if Dad marries Rosa on Saturday, and then Mom remembers everything on Sunday? Why did you let things get messed up?” I close my eyes and take slow, deep breaths until everything fades away.

26

Robot-Girl

I
smell Dad's morning coffee and hear him bang around the kitchen. I logroll across my bed until I see my clock—six fifteen. I'm still wearing my clothes from yesterday, but I don't care.

I hear Dad walk toward my room. He knocks. “Hey, River, isn't Monday your volunteer day?”

I'm still angry at him and don't want to talk.

“River?”

I squeeze every muscle in my body as tight as I can. “What?”

“Don't you need to get ready? Rosa picks you up at seven, right?”

I take a deep breath. “She used to. But I'm not volunteering now.”

“Hmmm,” he says. “You know, River, I think it would be good if we talked.”

“Fine.”

I start logrolling to the edge of my bed but misjudge the distance and land on the floor.

Thud.

“River? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. I meant to land face-first. So after I pick myself up, I'll meet you in the kitchen.” Not only is my life messed up, it's completely humiliating.

Once I'm on my feet, I look in the mirror. You are no longer Hope Girl. You are Robot Girl—stiff and made of cold, hard metal.

I consider brushing my hair and changing my clothes, but nothing matters. I go to the kitchen.

Dad's at the table drinking coffee. “What would you like this morning?”

“Nothing.”

“Hmmm, I can make French toast, pancakes, or even an omelet.”

“No times three.”

“River,” he says, “I'm sorry about yesterday. I had every intention of talking with you first, but when Rebecca asked if Rosa was your mom, the perfect opportunity presented itself. Thinking back, I see how insensitive I was and wish I'd have handled it differently.”

“And so do I. Don't you think you've gotten yourself in a mess?”

Dad cocks his head. “I'm sorry, River. I don't understand.”

“Seriously, Dad? What's going to happen if you marry Rosa on Saturday, and Mom remembers everything on Sunday? Or any day after that?” I take a breath. “That won't be fair to Rosa or Mom. Maybe you should have waited a little longer. You know, just kept being friends without the whole kissing thing? It's really not hard to do. Billy and I were real good friends, but we never kissed. And look at me and Carlos. We're friends and we don't kiss.”

“River,” he says, “it's not as easy when you're adults. When you're older, you'll understand.”

“I'm almost thirteen.”

“River,” he says, “I'd like to change the subject for a minute. Talk to me about volunteering.”

“I told you I'm not doing that anymore.”

“Okay,” he says, “but I have two questions. Does Ms. Ruddy know? And why did you make that decision?”

I go to the cupboard, grab a bowl, a spoon, and the box of Frosted Wheat Flakes. “No, Ms. Ruddy doesn't know. And I'm no longer volunteering because everyone will stare and ask about my brace.”

“First of all,” he says, “Ms. Ruddy's counting on you. If you don't show up, you'll not only let her down, but all the residents too.” He looks at me. “Am I correct?”

I nod.

“And you're right about people staring and asking about your brace. There's no getting around that until you inform people…something like Henry did for you and Carlos at church.” Dad taps his fingers on his mug. “River, if your grandmother was sitting at this table right now, what would she tell you?”

“To face the wind head-on like an eagle.”

Dad nods and sips his coffee.

I check the clock above the stove. Six fifty. “Dad,” I say between a mouthful of cereal, “in case I'm not ready right at seven, tell Rosa I'll be out in a minute.”

Ms. Ruddy's the first one to see me when I arrive. “Heavens to Betsy,” she says. “What on earth happened?”

Face the wind head-on, I tell myself. “Nothing happened,” I explain. “I have curvature of the spine, so I have to wear a brace to keep it from getting worse.”

Before I start volunteering, I check to see if Gram's in her room. The door's open like usual, so I peek in. “Gram?”

“My Sugar Pie's here,” she says.

When Gram sees me walk across the room, her eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Well, I'll be,” she says. “Look how beautiful you are—your shoulders and your hips are already as level as the horizon. And,” she says, “I like how you're holding your head up high and proud.” I don't think she realizes I can't hold it any other way.

I spend my volunteer shift mostly explaining to everyone about my brace. It's not that anyone's nosey—they ask because they care. But it's tiring to keep explaining, so I call Dad to pick me up. I can't last to the end of Rosa's shift.

When Dad arrives, he wants to say hi to Gram before we leave. Since she's not in her room, we look for her. We look everywhere—in the dining hall, the activities room, the therapy room, and the library. All of a sudden, we hear Gram shout from the opposite end of the unit where the Eagle's Nest is. “Eight ball in the corner pocket! Yee-haw!” We follow her voice to the billiards room, where Gram and Myrtle are high-fiving two gray-haired gentlemen. Each one of them (including Gram) has a pool stick in one hand and a cane in the other.

Gram sees us and shouts, “You missed my winning shot!”

Dad laughs. “We didn't see it, but we heard it. And look at the progress you've made, walking with only a cane now.”

“And watch this,” Gram says, raising her left arm clear over her head. “Those therapists can't believe how good I'm doing. In fact they said I can go home in a couple weeks. But I've been thinking,” she says, “I've got friends here, and I'm having so much fun that I plan on moving down to this end—to the Eagle's Nest.”

“Gram,” I say, completely shocked, “are you serious?”

“Sugar Pie, I feel the wind blowing me to the Eagle's Nest, and if there's one thing I've learned in this life, you gotta follow the wind. Besides,” she says, “a little bird told me there's gonna be a wedding. I figure you can all live in my house while you're building a bigger one. And if I want to move back home then, I will. But I may be so comfortable in my nest that I'll want to stay put.”

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