Julia's Daughters (18 page)

Chapter 30

Izzy

 

Mom laughs and then She Who Shall Not Be Named starts to laugh and I start laughing too. I have no idea why. I look around. No one's in the parking lot, which is probably a good thing because if there were anyone, they'd probably think there was something wrong with us. All three of us are in a parking lot, wearing pajamas, laughing for no reason at all.

I steal a quick look in She Who Shall Not Be Named's direction. She's lying on the hood of Mom's car (probably denting it), like she does it all the time. Like she was just hanging out, waiting for us.

I wonder where she's been all night? Did she go to a bar or something? She probably has a fake ID. Of course I don't think she looks any older than me so I don't know how she'd get in. I can't believe she sat out here all night, though. She didn't have the car key, though. It's still up in the room.

Or was she planning on running away? Why else would she sneak out of the hotel room in the middle of the night like that? I know Mom was afraid she was going to go out her window again the night before last. That's why Mom slept with her.

But if she was going to run away, why didn't she? Did she realize she's totally unequipped to be on her own? Or did she not run away because she realized our family, no matter how big a mess we are, is better than no family at all?

Last night, when I woke up and saw her at the door, I don't know why I didn't squeal like a pig on her. All I would have had to do was shake Mom awake and She Who Shall Not Be Named would have been so busted. But I didn't wake up Mom. I just watched her go. I'm going to have to think on that later—when I'm dressed.

She Who Shall Not Be Named catches me looking at her and I look away really fast. Her looking at me makes me feel weird. Guilty weird.

In the house, it was easy to ignore her. Sometimes I could even pretend she didn't exist. But in the car, staying in a hotel room with her, is different. It's harder. I keep remembering things from before Caitlin bought her one-way ticket. Haley did mean things to me like tease me, but as much as I don't want to remember, she was nice to me, too. Like the time I broke this vase Mom really liked and she said she did it goofing around with Caitlin. Then she used her own money to buy a new one and said I didn't have to pay her back. She told me, “This one's on me, kiddo.”

I look at Mom. “Can we at least get breakfast before we leave?”

“I don't think they have waffles at the breakfast bar. Just cold stuff.” She Who Shall Not Be Named puts her book into her backpack and digs around for something. I see a flash of pink; Caitlin's iPad is in her bag. The little thief. I brought it. I should be able to carry it in
my
bag. Maybe she was going to run away and that's why she has it.

“But they have scones and blueberry muffins.” She Who Shall Not Be Named looks right at me. She knows I love blueberry muffins. On Sundays, before Caitlin crossed the River Styx, somebody always used to run to the bakery and get fresh pastries. I always got a blueberry muffin, the kind with the crumbles on top.

“Saw them when I got some coffee earlier.” She Who Shall Not Be Named is obviously talking to me. She takes something wrapped in a napkin out of her bag and pushes it across the hood of the car. “I got an extra one. In case they ran out.”

I stare at the muffin. I really
really
like blueberry muffins and I'm hungry. I ordered a veggie burger last night. Bad choice. I stare at the muffin. It's a big one with brown sugar crumbles on the top.

“But if you don't want it,” she says. She shrugs and makes a move to take it back.

I grab it and take a big bite.

Mom stands there looking at the two of us. I can't believe she's not making She Who Shall Not Be Named tell her what she's doing out here on top of our car at eight o'clock in the morning, but Mom's blind to her daughters' shortcomings. All of ours. She's always been that way. Even with me. She thinks I'm like the smartest ten-year-old in the world.

“You could say thank-you,” Mom says. Instead of chewing Haley out for being out here rather than in the hotel room where we can keep an eye on her, that's what she says.

I purposely don't look at She Who Shall Not Be Named still on the hood. “Do I have to give it back if I don't?”

Mom shakes her head like she's annoyed with me and walks away, headed for the side door of the hotel. I just stand there for a minute, eating my muffin. I want to ask She Who Shall Not Be Named where she went. Why she left the room, but I can't figure out how without actually speaking to her and I'm kind of on a roll. I don't think I've spoken to her since the morning of the day Caitlin died.

She watches me stuff the muffin into my mouth. “Thanks for not ratting on me last night. That was . . . it was a nice thing to do, Izzy.”

I don't say anything, but my eyes are scratchy, like I'm going to cry. I have no idea why. I'm so mad at her. Why do I care if she thinks I'm nice?

“What I can't figure out,” she says, climbing down off the hood of the car, “is why you didn't tell. Did you not tell Mom because you wanted me to leave? Because you never want to see me again? Or did you not wake Mom up because you knew I didn't want you to?”

I just stand there. The muffin doesn't taste that good anymore. I wish I hadn't put so much in my mouth. I chew slowly. I don't want to cry. I should just walk away, but my feet won't move.

She's standing close to me now. “If I'd had a choice that night, I'd have been the one who died and not Caitlin. You get that, don't you?” She just keeps standing there for a minute. Then she walks away. “Come on. Let's get dressed and see if there's any more blueberry muffins.”

Chapter 31

Julia

 

The drive from Grand Junction, Colorado to Kearney, Nebraska, makes for a long day. It takes me at least two hours, once we're on the road, to relax a little. I was so afraid Haley had taken off this morning. I was so scared I'd lost her.

But she didn't.

And I haven't.

And I have to move on.

I'm not sure exactly what Haley was doing in the hotel parking lot this morning, or when she'd gone out. (Luckily I was able to keep from falling into a self-deprecating state, blaming myself for falling asleep and
letting
her get out of the room, in the first place.) When I tried to question Haley as we were packing the car after breakfast, she made it clear she didn't want to talk about it. I let it go because I felt like we had more important things to say to each other and I didn't want to jeopardize my chances of making headway today. I just hope that really was my motivation and I wasn't just trying to avoid unpleasantness.

I made a couple of attempts at meaningful conversation, but after falling flat multiple times, I decide I can't force it. But even though I can't force Haley to talk to me and tell me how she's feeling, I can do things to keep her engaged. We spend the morning playing the license plate game, “collecting” a plate from each state. Of course Haley doesn't want to play at first, but when she spots an Alaska license plate, she gets into it. Izzy keeps track of the states they spot on the iPad and we collect thirty-eight by the time we were an hour outside of Kearney.

We play other car games too. Word games like we used to play when we traveled as a family. Of course it's a little trickier since Izzy won't speak to Haley, but we make it work. My girls' favorites were always the association game and the disassociation game. Ben and Caitlin and Izzy always liked the association game. All you have to do is say a word that's associated with the word the person before you said. But the
disassociation
game is trickier because you have to say a word that has nothing to do with what was said the last three times. Haley and I always ruled at that game.

After lunch at a burger place, Izzy decides to get into the backseat so Mr. Cat can be closer to his litter box that we've set up in the back of the car. Despite Haley's concerns, the litter box hasn't been an issue. As best I can figure, Mr. Cat uses it as a sandbox to play in, rather than for its intended use.

In the backseat, Izzy is mostly quiet although several times I see her in the rearview mirror moving her lips and looking at the empty seat beside her, as if she's having a conversation with someone. I don't say anything for fear Haley will tease her, but I make a note to myself to ask her about it later.

Haley rides for two hours in the front seat without engaging in any meaningful conversation with me. We watch the countryside go by, slowly moving from the mountains to the flat plains and occasionally one of us comments on a passing vehicle or an interestingly shaped tree. She doesn't ask if we can turn on the radio and I don't offer. All three of us seem to be lost in our thoughts today.

When we spot a bright green VW Bug from the seventies and I mention the guy who took me to my junior prom in just such a vehicle, Haley seems to return to us.

“His name was
Rudolph?
” she asks. “Like the reindeer?”

I smile, remembering Rudolph Lexington. He'd been a nice boy, despite what my parents had thought about him. “No.” I laugh. “As in
Valentino
. The film actor. You know,
The Sheik, The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse
.”

“Izzy doesn't know anything more than she did a minute ago,” Haley says with a poker face.

I had forgotten how funny she could be. How could I have forgotten? Haley's humor is something I always adored about her.

Izzy ignores her sister. “Did you wear a dress?”

“Of course I wore a dress.” A sense of nostalgia comes over me. “In fact, I wore two dresses.”

“Two? At the same time?”

More wit from the one sitting next to me. I wish I could figure out how to bring out more this side of Haley. She's been distant all day and now suddenly she's engaged. This is the Haley I knew before Caitlin died.

I cut my eyes at Haley, trying to keep up the lighthearted banter. “Not at the
same time
. There was a cute, short, skimpy dress I really wanted, but my mother wouldn't let me buy it, even though I had my own money. Instead, she bought me this ugly navy dress with a collar that went to my knees.”

“For a
formal
dance?” Izzy cackles from the backseat.

“And you wore it?” Haley asks.

“The way it worked in my house was you did exactly as you were told or you didn't go. The dress code was my stepfather's making, but my mother enforced it. No cleavage, no bare arms, nothing above the knee. No skirts or shorts.”

“Was he Mormon?” Haley.

I shake my head.

“Amish?” Haley again.

Izzy laughs at her sister's joke, and I realize that even though none of my orchestrated conversations came to pass today, something is definitely happening between Haley and Izzy. It seems as if Izzy is on the verge of speaking to her sister. Of saying
something,
even if it is
F-off,
as she would have put it. I think Izzy wants to speak to Haley; she just can't quite get over the hump.

“So, I wore the blue dress my mother bought downstairs,” I go on, “but I had a different dress in my bag. A friend loaned it to me. I stood for a picture in front of the fireplace in my mother's living room with Rudy in the ridiculous sailor dress. He had good enough manners not to say anything about how awful it was. Then, once we drove away in the green punch buggy, I changed into the other dress.”

“Right in the car, in front of a boy?” Izzy asks.

Haley rolls her eyes in her sister's direction, but doesn't say anything.

“The dress was a pale pink. Short.” I touch high on my thigh. “And sleeveless. Like a little tank dress, only it was lacy, sort of a flapper-style thing. It was pretty demure for nowadays, but daring for me.” Remembering the dress and how tickled I'd been that Rudy had asked me to the prom makes me feel warm inside. “I had a great night. At least until I got caught.” I watch cars zip past us, going in the opposite direction, and enjoy the memory. I'd been so infatuated with Rudy. I'd thought I was in love with him. He was my first serious crush. “After the prom, I was allowed to go out to this diner we used to go to with my friends, as long as I was home by eleven forty-five. I was going to change back into the navy getup in the car on the way home. But my stepdad came to the diner to see if I was really there and he caught me in the
hussy
dress.”

Izzy leans forward. “What's a hussy?”

“It's an old-fashioned word for a girl who puts out,” Haley explains.

“Mom!” Izzy exclaims.

I glance at Izzy in the rearview, amused by Haley's definition and a little concerned that my youngest knows what it means to
put out
. “I was grounded for weeks. And when my prison sentence was almost up, I got caught lying about an SAT prep class I was supposedly taking. I was actually hanging out with Rudy, and my stepdad added weeks to my punishment. I spent half the summer before my senior year in high school in my bedroom.”

Haley stares at me, a bit of a smirk on her face. “I can't believe you did those things. You actually lied to your parents? Sneaked around?”

I feel my cheeks grow warm. I've never told my children much about my teenage years because I didn't want them to think what I did was okay. The lying, the sneaking around, the thinking I knew what was good for me more than my parents. Which I probably did, but that's neither here nor there.

“I was pretty disrespectful. They were doing what they thought was best.”

Haley sits back in her seat and rubs her forearm, lost in her thoughts.

I glance at her several times, trying to gauge her mood. Finally, I just ask, “Are you feeling like you want to do it?”

She answers without hesitation. “A little bit.” She thinks on it. “But . . . it's not too bad.”

“Rubbing will irritate it,” I say before I think. “You'll be bleeding again. And you used that whole box of Band-Aids. We'll have to get more.”

“I'm trying not to cut,” she says sharply, and looks out the window. “That's going to have to be good enough for you right now, Mom.”

We ride for a half hour in silence. I've killed the mood in the car. I'm annoyed with myself. Why couldn't I just let it go? And Haley is right. She's trying. That's the first step.

It's after sunset when I take the exit off the interstate to go to the hotel where Haley made reservations for us.

Haley holds the iPad over her head to pass it back to Izzy. “Can we stop at a drugstore? I better get some more Band-Aids. And some other stuff.”

“Do you want to eat first? Stop at the drugstore first?” I make my tone light. “Or should we go to the hotel and drop off
you know who
.” I tilt my head toward the backseat, trying to be funny. Or at least amusing.

“Mom, you can't leave Izzy alone in a hotel room. She's too young. Somebody will call child protective services.”

I laugh out loud.

Izzy looks annoyed. “I could stay alone if I wanted to.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I don't know why she has to be mean to me all the time.”

The comment isn't directed exactly to Haley, but it's close. We're definitely making headway. And I'm pleased. Now, if I can just keep Haley in the hotel room tonight, I'll feel like we've had a good day. “Okay,” I say. “So drugstore first, then we'll check in so we don't lose our room, and then we get dinner. You guys decide where we're going. My brain is fried.”

I signal and pull into a chain drugstore parking lot. The minute the car stops, Haley opens the door and hops out. She leans back into the car. “We need anything else?”

I wonder if I should go in with her. Just to keep an eye on her. But I feel like . . . I need to give her a little space. She could have taken off this morning if she'd wanted to. She didn't and I need to have a little faith. “You need money?”

“Of course.” Which sounds more like her than anything else she's said today. Or maybe more like Caitlin. Caitlin always had her hand out for money. But that's just teenagers, isn't it?

I grab my wallet out of the bag I've stashed behind her seat and pull out a twenty. “Enough?” I hold up the bill.

She grimaces. I give her a ten, too, glad I thought to get money from an ATM when we made a bathroom stop this afternoon.

“Be right back,” Haley says, and closes the door before I can say anything else.

I let the interior light go out before I say anything to Izzy. I turn in my seat to look at her. She's got her bare feet up on the seat, the cat on her lap. “You okay?” I ask.

“She treats me like I'm a baby. You treat me like I'm a baby. No one gives me any credit for being as mature as I am. Did you know that Macy in my tae kwon do class still sleeps with her light on? She has bad dreams about
Monsters, Inc.
monsters coming out of her closet.” She makes a face. “Which is stupid because who's afraid of those kinds of monsters? Sulley's cute and cuddly.” She gestures with one hand. “That was the whole point of the movie, right?”

“I don't think you're a baby.”

She doesn't say anything.

“Izz, if I thought you were less mature than you are, I wouldn't have brought you on this trip. Your sister is dealing with some serious problems. Problems girls your age aren't usually exposed to.”

“Because she killed Caitlin.”

“I told Haley,” I say sharper than I mean to, “and I'm telling you.” I check my tone and go on. “Haley didn't
kill
Caitlin.” My voice cracks when I say her name and I pause a beat before I go on. “The word kill suggests premeditation. Do you know that word?”

She doesn't answer.

“Do you keep a list of words? Like Haley and Caitlin used to? If you do, you should put it on your list. To do something premeditated means you intended to do it. You made plans ahead of time to see it through. Haley didn't enter that intersection intending to run the stop sign. She didn't intend to get hit by another car. She didn't intend—”

“For Caitlin to go through the windshield,” Izzy says softly.

She's staring straight ahead. I can see her face in the light coming from a sign advertising shingles shots free to all Medicare patients.

She rubs her chin across Mr. Cat's head. She won't look at me. “Did she know Caitlin didn't have her seat belt on? We always wear seat belts.”

It's a good question. I never posed it to Haley. I'm not sure if I want to know the answer or not. It won't change anything. Of course if Haley didn't know Caitlin wasn't belted in, I might be able to convince her that that's a good reason not to blame herself. But what if she did know?

“It dings if you don't buckle,” Izzy points out, still avoiding eye contact. “She should have heard the dinging and told Caitlin to put her seat belt on. Unless the dinger was broken. Do you think it was broken?” She looks at me hopefully. “It was a lame car. You think maybe the dinger was broken?”

The look on Izzy's face makes me want to lie to her. What if I told her the signal that alerted passengers to an unbuckled seat belt
was
broken? Would she talk to Haley then? But I can't lie to her. Of course I can't. “I don't know if Haley knew Caitlin wasn't buckled in. It could be that she unbuckled to get something.” I feel a heaviness coming over me. The weight of Caitlin's death returning to sit on my shoulders and in the pit of my stomach. “I guess you could ask her.”