Never Too Late (26 page)

“Wherever you want me to be.”

 

When she got home, Clare called Roger and he immediately came over. When Clare let him in, she was rather surprised by the angry look on his face. Impressed, when it came down to it.

“Where is he?” he asked.

“In his room. Quaking.”

“Jason!” Roger yelled. “Get down here!”

Response was immediate. The door opened and he came down the stairs. As his father came into view,
Clare noticed that Jason's expression grew more fearful. He got a little paler.

“Family room,” Roger snapped, letting Jason go first.

Jason sat on the couch while Roger paced in front of him. Long seconds passed. Then Roger stopped pacing and bore down on Jason. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“It was stupid,” Jason said. “I told Stan it was stupid.”

“Drinking at your age is bad enough—but stealing? Jason?
Stealing?
”

“I said, it was stupid.”

“I just can't believe it. Not you. I never thought you would do that.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you're going to be.” He turned to Clare, who was actually very pleased with this. “Have you called Stan's parents?”

“Uh-huh. They went straight home.”

“Get your jacket,” Roger said.

“Aw, Dad…”

“Come on, we're going over there.”

It was a tense meeting that lasted about an hour. Jason had never looked more miserable in his life. The adults decided that the boys were not allowed to hang out together for at least a couple of weeks. Stan, who had recently scored his driver's license, was losing use of the car for the rest of the month. Jason, who was ready to take his test for his permit, was not going to get to do that for another month.

On the drive back home Roger said, “Clare, do you think your dad would go along with Jason working at the store after school for a while?”

“Probably.”

“Aww, man,” came from the backseat.

“You obviously can't be trusted to stay out of trouble after school, so I want you to go to your grandpa's store until your mom is either done at that old house or done at the store. For at least the rest of the month. Then we'll reevaluate.”

When they got home, Jason headed straight for the stairs. He was halfway up when Roger said, “Jason?” He turned around and looked at his dad. “Jason, I'm disappointed. I trusted you to at least never break the law. I hope you learned something from this. I hope you're going to turn out better than that.”

“Yes, sir,” he said meekly.

Roger nodded. Jason fled.

Clare put a hand on Roger's arm. “Thank you. You handled that very well. I couldn't have managed as well without you.”

“Oh, you probably could have,” he said. “But I'm glad you called. I want to be in his life—in the good times and the rugged.” He took a deep breath. “I'm exhausted.”

She smiled. “How about a beer?”

 

Having a grounded fifteen-year-old and a boyfriend who kept his daughters almost every weekend would have had a definite negative impact on Clare's love life, if it weren't for Roger. God bless him, he was serious about mending his fences with Jason and wanted to spend more quality time with him, especially since the shoplifting episode.

“I just can't stop blaming myself for that,” he said. “I was absent too long.”

Tempting as it was to let Roger wallow in guilt, she
knew it was pretty likely not his fault. Jason was a good kid and had a very close and supportive family, and he'd begun to patch things up with his dad before getting in trouble. She'd had many long talks with Pete about it, and Pete was something of an expert on teenage boys. So she said, “Lighten up, Roger. Boys his age do lamebrain stuff like that. They also drive too fast, skip school and get into trouble with girls. Let's just try to stay on top of it. He's basically a real good kid. And with both of us paying attention, letting him know his parents aren't going to let him get away with anything, we might be lucky.”

But she convinced Roger that he should spend a couple of evenings during the week with Jason. Having a grounded teenager at home was such a ball and chain, she was afraid to leave the house in the evenings. Afraid he might plot something, maybe slip out, get himself in trouble again. So Roger agreed to pick him up after work at around six a couple of weeknights, take him out for a bite and back to his place to do homework. Home by ten, in bed by eleven.

When that happened, Clare went to Pete's house.

On this particular night, she had called to say she was on her way, then let herself in with her own key. She found him in his family room at the wet bar, mixing two drinks. The room was dimly lit, the fire ablaze in the hearth, and Pete was wearing only his slacks. No shoes, no shirt. She stopped as she entered the room and just filled her eyes with him. That broad chest; the nice, neat mat of hair; the flat belly and broad shoulders. She especially liked his strong forearms, big hands.

He passed her a drink. She took a sip, he took a sip,
and then they tasted it on each other's mouths. She ran her fingers through the hair at his temples. “You're getting a little gray here,” she pointed out.

“I can't see how it's possible. I feel like a teenager.”

“Why aren't you dressed? Getting a head start?”

“I took a quick shower. How much time do we have?”

“Three hours. Four.”

“I can keep you out of trouble for that long.”

He slipped an arm around her and she looked up into his eyes. “A year ago I was leaving my husband. Leaving my house. I was lonely, kind of scared and thoroughly pissed off. Now I have you, the deepest friendship I've ever known, not to mention the kind of love life I didn't think existed. I really believed it was too late for me to have this in my life.”

“It's just the beginning, Clare.”

“I've been meaning to tell you—when Sam brought Jason home to me after his little shoplifting adventure, he saw the sleeping bags. I don't think Jason noticed, but Sam did.”

Pete shrugged.

“I felt like I had to explain to him—that we came together after. After I ended things with him.”

“How'd he take it?”

“He was a little snotty, but he said it didn't matter.”

Pete surprised her by laughing. He leaned down and put a soft kiss on her lips. “It's a good thing it was Sam you had to end it with. I don't think I'd have gone away quietly. I don't think I could have.”

“I'm in love with you, you know,” she told him.

“I've been waiting for that,” he said with a smile. “And it feels just as good hearing it as I thought it would.” He took the drink from her hand and put it, with
his, back on the bar. He lifted her into his arms and said, “I love you, too. Let's get you out of these clothes so we can make love until curfew.”

C
lare and Sarah had entered the new year rosy with love and drunk on fabulous sex. No one knew Sarah's little secret, but if anyone had looked closely, they would have seen she had that same flush and glow that Clare was sporting.

However, Maggie's perfect life began unraveling. The first thing to go terribly wrong was when thirteen-year-old Hillary's best friend, Lucy, was diagnosed with juvenile cancer. The prognosis for Lucy was very optimistic—the doctors gave her a ninety percent chance of a full recovery, but poor little Hillary was terrified and constantly plummeted into hysterical tears. She began to show real fear and signs of depression.

As for Lucy, she was instantly admitted for chemotherapy and by the second week of January had started losing her hair. This further upset Hillary and keeping her spirits up was a constant challenge for Maggie.

Hillary began to devote all her time to her best friend, studying her disease on the Internet, obsessed with her treatment. And Maggie was devoting all her mothering
to Hillary, possibly failing to notice anything different about Lindsey.

Then, when Maggie came home from work one evening in the third week of January, Lindsey uttered those words mothers never like to hear. “Mom, I have to talk to you. In my room,” she said gravely.

Oh, how Maggie hated this. She didn't even take off her coat. Her mind went wild on the way to Lindsey's room. She couldn't be flunking anything—the girl was a perpetual honor student, shattered by an A-minus. Was it a fight with a girlfriend, had she skipped school, shoplifted a belly ring, got caught smoking…? Or, please God, let her be breaking up with Christopher.

“I'm not a virgin anymore.”

Maggie actually grabbed her heart. “You're
fifteen!
”

“I know this,” Lindsey said.

“Was it Christopher?” she asked angrily.

“Well, of
course
it was Christopher! He's my boyfriend!”

“Don't you dare yell at me,” Maggie said. Because I'm practically a virgin again, she thought. “Could you be pregnant? Did you use anything?”

“We used a condom. Once.”

“Once? You mean you've done it more than once?” Maggie sat on the bed beside Lindsey.

“Well,” Lindsey said. “Yeah. More than once.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Mommm,” she whined.

“Well? How long?”

“It's been a couple of months. Since about October.”

“October?”

“Or September,” she said in a quieter voice. “But I
always got my period. And most of the time he'd remember to, you know, pull out.”

“Oh, God! Are you late now?”

“I might be a day or two late,” she said.

That's why she's telling me, Maggie thought. This could have been worked out much more neatly if she'd mentioned she needed birth control before she and that boy had started messing around, as they'd discussed ad nauseam. She glared at her daughter. Her beautiful, brilliant, fifteen-year-old daughter who was about to plunge herself into disaster via the vagina. “I should never have let you out after dark!” She stood up. “I'll take tomorrow morning off. We're going straight to the doctor. I'd take you now if the office wasn't closed. And in the meantime, pray. Pray very, very hard!” She stomped toward the door.

“Mom?”

Maggie turned back toward her. Lindsey finally had a contrite look on her face, tears in her eyes. “Do you have to tell Dad?”

Maggie wanted to be understanding and helpful—girls Lindsey's age had raging hormones and those of boys Christopher's age raged even hotter. But this pissed her off to her very core. They had talked this to death. She told her daughters that there was no excuse for getting into this kind of trouble. If they were afraid to ask for birth control, they should insist on condoms. They talked about STDs and she stressed that condoms should always be used anyway, even if there was other birth control in place. During these discussions Hillary said, “Eww,” and Lindsey looked completely bored.

She wanted to be sympathetic, but she just wasn't there yet. “Of course I have to tell Dad,” she said. “And
then I'm going to have to tie him up to keep him from going straight to Christopher's house and killing him!”

“It wasn't his fault, Mom. He didn't make me.”

“Well, did you make him?”

“Of course not,” she said, a large tear running down her cheek.

“Start praying,” Maggie said, leaving the room.

She went to her bedroom and sat in the big chair by the window, in front of the fireplace. How could this have happened? They were so strict, and Lindsey was so smart. They always knew everywhere she was. She couldn't go to Christopher's house if his parents weren't home; they were only allowed to double date; Lindsey never went to anyone's party unless supervision was assured. They checked everything.

Well, dum-dum, clearly your daughter lied to you, that mocking voice in her head told her.

We lied to our mother, she thought. But Maggie hadn't been fifteen, for God's sake!

But Sarah had been just fourteen. How had that girl kept from getting pregnant all through her teenage years? And Maggie had actually been only seventeen.

Maggie drew herself out of her chair and went back to Lindsey's room. She was hoping to find her daughter crying, but she was, more predictably, talking on the phone. “I'm going to run an errand. Do not go out. Keep an eye on Hillary. I'll be right back.”

She drove to the drugstore and hunted through the aisles for the home pregnancy tests. Reading the backs of some, she made a discovery—you could now determine pregnancy at about four minutes after conception. She held the pack in her hand for a long time. The news might not be good. She could be throwing away the last
good night's sleep she would have literally for years. Oh hell, she thought, who's going to sleep?

She purchased and took it home. Lindsey was still on the phone. “I need you to hang up now.” For the first time in her memory, Lindsey said goodbye and hung up without so much as a peep of protest. She handed her the bag. “Read the instructions, pee on the stick. I'll be in my room. Please do it right now.”

She turned and left her daughter. Back in her room, she slumped onto the bed, still wearing her coat. “God,” she said out loud. My daughters are both in crisis, she was thinking. One is terrified of losing her best friend to cancer and the other might be pregnant. “God,” she said aloud again.

A few moments passed and then she was jolted upright by a piercing scream. Oh, God, she thought—it's
positive!
On her feet and racing down the hall, she saw Lindsey standing in front of the open bathroom door with a stricken look on her face. She'd gone completely pale. Maggie peeked into the bathroom and then
she
screamed. There stood Hillary, her head completely shaved.

“My God, what have you
done?
”

Hillary's eyes met her mother's in the mirror. All of her glorious long blond hair lay in a heap on the floor around her feet and on her face was the most serene expression she'd worn in a few weeks. “I did it in support of Lucy.”

“Couldn't we have
talked
about it first?”

“Oh, like you'd've said yes.” She rubbed her pale bald head. “It'll grow back. And so will Lucy's.”

Maggie looked at the ceiling. “Am I being punished for something?” she asked the higher power beyond her
roof. “Okay, get out of the bathroom right now. You sister has peeing to do.”

“You are a serious whack job,” Lindsey said to Hillary.

“And you're a butt hole,” the little bald one said, brushing past her older sister.

“They're going to come after me with a net,” Maggie muttered to herself as she went to her room.

She threw herself facedown on the bed, still wearing her coat. She beat the mattress with her fists for a little while. Where the hell was Bob? Carson City—legislature was in session. That'll teach me to come home early. I should have found somewhere to hang out until I wasn't the only adult in the house.

What am I going to do if this child is pregnant? She thinks she's in love with this big lunkhead, Christopher, who apparently is walking around with all his brains in his dick. Don't worry about that, she told herself. He'll run like his ass is on fire. But what about Lindsey? Girls her age, even incredibly smart girls, have all these romantic illusions about having a baby. Oh, God, Lindsey had been talking about medical school! There was a good chance she'd be valedictorian! She'd been in accelerated classes since she was seven.

“Mom?”

Maggie was lying in the shape of a crucifix, feet hanging off the bed, arms stretched out wide. She lifted only her head. Lindsey was smiling. “It's okay, Mom. One line, not two.”

“When was the last time you had sex?” Maggie asked from her tortured position.

Lindsey shrugged. “A week or so, I guess.”

“Well, I hope we're all right. I'll take you in the morning.”

“It's probably okay, Mom.” Lindsey sat in the chair facing her mother. Maggie lowered her head. “I'm sorry, Mom. It's just that, you know, I really love him.”

“I can't talk about that right now,” Maggie said, not looking at her daughter.

“Now do we have to tell Dad? I mean, it's okay. And this is a girls' thing. Huh?”

Maggie lifted her head and glared at Lindsey.

“Jeez, you're acting so weird,” Lindsey said.

“Go to your room. Study something. You are grounded for
life!
”

By the time Bob came home it was after nine. Maggie had finally discarded her coat and was wearing a comfortable sweat suit, sitting in her big comfy chair, working on her second scotch. “Hi, honey,” he said. “Have you eaten?”

“I don't have much appetite. Have you seen the girls?”

“Not yet. I just barely got home.”

“Well, you might want to go downstairs, fix yourself a very large drink and come back up here to talk to me before you talk to them.”

“This doesn't sound good,” he said.

“
Large
drink,” she advised.

 

Not terribly far away in another bedroom, Sarah was looking at a pregnancy stick, except on hers there were two lines. How was this possible? she asked herself. She'd been on the Pill forever, even when she didn't think she needed it. And since setting her hopeful sights on Sam, she'd been very diligent about her pills. But she had only had a bit of spotting her last period, and lately she'd been feeling queasy in the mornings.

She had managed to remain in denial for a few weeks, but the queasiness had persisted. Disbelieving, she bought the home pregnancy test and was blown away by the results.

In a near panic, she called her doctor the first thing the next morning and after begging, pleading, they found a way to sneak her in.

When she walked into the waiting room, who did she find but Maggie and Lindsey. For a moment she was embarrassed, then remembered that pregnancy wasn't the only reason to visit this doctor. “Hey, you two. What are you doing here?”

Lindsey looked away and Maggie said, “Checkup,” but she didn't say it happily. “You?”

“Ah…checkup.” Sarah sat down next to them, and then she remembered. Fourteen. She'd been only fourteen when she'd lost her virginity. She looked at Maggie, her mouth opened slightly in shock, her eyes wide. Maggie's eyes dropped slowly closed and she nodded grimly. “Shit,” Sarah said.

“Oh, this is
great,
” Lindsey huffed.

Lindsey was the first one into the exam room, Maggie waiting outside with Sarah. “I don't even want to ask,” Sarah said.

“No, you don't
have
to ask. You
know.
”

“Damn. I thought if anyone was on top of that, it was you.”

“I was,” she returned. “Apparently it was falling on deaf ears.”

“How'd Bob take it?”

“Better than I did. When I told him our daughter was officially having more sex than we were, he said, ‘It was bound to happen someday, honey.'
He's
lucky to be
alive. And if you think this is interesting, you should see Hillary. She has shaved her head in support of her best friend who is losing her hair through chemotherapy.”

“Aw. That's kind of sweet.”

Maggie's eyes teared. It was something one never saw. She was so tough and strong, she never cried. “All that beautiful long blond hair, lying on the bathroom floor.”

Sarah squeezed her sister's hand. “It'll grow back, Maggie. At least she's not having sex.”