Perfect You (14 page)

"Well, what?" she said. "Move back a little, darling, so you don't get dirt on those bags next to you." "Aren't you going to say something?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know," I said. "I mean, you must know that I . . I mean, I guess you're probably going to say something to . . ."I trailed off. No need to go into details, and definitely no need to suggest that Grandma mention this to anyone. Like, say, Mom.

"I suspect what happened is tied up with the fact that your shirt is on backward and that a few minutes before you got home I had a nice, chat with a young man named Will, who asked me to tell you that he has your shoe."

"Oh." I hadn't even noticed my shirt.

"He sounds like a very nice boy, although you might want to rethink rolling around on the ground with him, darling. Or at the very least, carry a brush when you go out."

"It's not like that."

"It's not?"

"Okay, it's sort of like that. But it's . . . complicated." Will had called? He'd actually called?

"The best things usually are," Grandma said, looking back at her magazine.

I went to bed before I cracked and asked her to tell me exactly what he'd said and how he'd said it.

I went to bed and pretended he'd told her to be sure to tell me that he'd call again.

When I woke up, my clock said it was after ten.

That couldn't be right. The mall opened at ten, and Dad liked to get me and Todd up at eight because he was always so excited about his plans for the day that he couldn't wait to tell us about them.

I rubbed my eyes and got out of bed, deciding that Todd had messed with my clock as payback for having to drive me around last night, and went to the bathroom. Weirdly, Grandma wasn't in there fussing with her hair or putting on makeup, but I enjoyed not having to wait to use the bathroom for once.

After I got dressed, I checked to see if Grandma was in Todd's room, but she wasn't. I headed out into the living room,

but that was empty too. Todd wasn't even there, and the blankets he slept with were neatly folded and resting on the far end of the sofa.

"Hello?" I said, starting to feel a little freaked out. Where was everyone? And since when was Todd neat? Or not on the sofa?

"Hey" Todd said, leaning out of the dining room door. "Can you please come in here?"

Now I knew I had to be asleep. Todd and I never went in the dining room, and he'd said

"please." The last time Todd said that was during dinner right after he'd graduated from college. He said, "Please pass me the potatoes, Kate," and then asked Mom and Dad if he could move back in.

"Why did you say please? And why do I have to come into the dining room? Did you drive the car into the garage door again?"

"Hilarious. Just get in the dining room, will you?" he said, and then mouthed the word

"Mom" at me.

"M--" I started to say, but he shook his head and gave me another look, the same one he'd given me the night I'd jumped into whatever was brewing between Mom, Dad, and Grandma and ended up with those awful purple boots. A things-are-bad-so-help-me-do-something look.

I went into the dining room and then stopped, frozen. Mom was sitting at the table. Her eyes were all red, like she'd been crying.

"Mom?" I said.

"Your grandmother's out shopping, so I thought we could-- should--talk now," she said, motioning at the chair across from her. The words sounded like Mom words, but her voice . . . her voice was so broken-sounding.

"What's going on?" I said as I sat down, and glanced at Todd. He was staring at the floor and, I swear, looked as upset as Mom did.

I sat down.

"This is hard for me to say," Mom said, and then talked about how things had changed since Dad had left his job (like I hadn't noticed), and how money was tight (like I hadn't noticed that either), and that sometimes, in spite of trying your hardest, bad things happened. I didn't say I already knew that, because I had a feeling she wasn't talking about Grandma visiting.

In fact, I had a feeling that, once again, my life was going to get worse.

"We're going to have to move," Mom said, and started to cry.

Move? Leave the house? My bedroom, the hallway I'd practiced cartwheels down, the bathroom where Anna and I had tried to highlight our hair with hydrogen peroxide, the kitchen where Todd and I argued over who got the last piece of cake--leave all of it?

Lose all of it?

No. I couldn't have heard right. But looking at Mom., and seeing her cry, I knew I had.

"But Grandma . . I heard her say she'd help you," I said.

"What?" Mom said, wiping her eyes, her voice suddenly sharp.

"I heard you talking to her one morning," I muttered. "She said she'd help you but not Dad. So why won't she help with the house?"

"I can't ask her," Mom said, her voice tight.

"Can't?"

"Your father and I--we needed money to send Todd to college," Mom said. "We couldn't get a loan, because we had so many credit cards, but we were able to use them. The thing is, my mother had given us money for Todd's education when he was born, but things got tight and we . . we did what we had to." She cleared her throat. "So that's why I can't ask her now. I don't want her to know."

"But--"

"Stop," Mom said, her voice rising. "Look, I've--I've tried, using our savings and then getting another job, but between paying the minimum on the credit cards, the mortgage, and everything else, we've fallen behind. Very behind. If we sell the house now, we should be able to pay off most of what we owe."

"But Grandma could help! She has money, and--"

"And you think my mother is going to just hand over what we need?" Mom said. "Do you really think she'd do that with no strings attached? That she wouldn't constantly remind us of how we spent money she'd set aside for Todd on other things?"

"She might." If I poured a lot of liquor into her diet soda first.

"I'm not going to discuss this with you any further," Mom said. "Your father and I have to sell the house, and as hard as it's going to be for all of us, it's something we have to do." She stood up. "A real estate agent is coming by in a few hours, and I need your help cleaning. Will you please--?"

"No," I said, and got up too, slamming my chair into the table. "I can't believe how stupid you and Dad are. That's right, I said stupid. And if you want the house cleaned, you do it, because you're the one who screwed up and lost it."

"Hey," Todd said, staring at me angrily, "don't--"

"Shut up," I said. "I'm going to have to move because you spent four years learning to burp the alphabet only to move back in and lie around doing nothing."

"I'm getting a job," Todd said, his voice stiff and his face red with fury. He went over to Mom, hugged her, and said, "I'll come back as soon as I'm done and start cleaning up the backyard."

"Way to go, suck up," I said, glaring at him. "Now you're getting a job? I guess I'd better get one too. Oh, wait, I already have one. In fact, I'm late for it."

"Your father's given you the day off," Mom said. "He--we-- thought it might be easier for you."

"Right, Mom. You mean it's easier for him. He doesn't have to deliver the bad news. He gets to come home tonight and pretend everything's fine. In fact, I bet he's actually glad Grandma's here because you won't tell her what's going on, and he thinks no one else will mention it to her. Well, guess what? I'm telling her everything."

Todd grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the dining room. "Stop it," he said, practically shaking me.

"Quit it," I said, and pushed him away. "All of this is your fault, you know."

"You think I don't know that?" he said. "Hearing that I'm the reason we're losing the house feels--"

"I don't care how you feel. No, wait, I do care. I hope you feel terrible. I hope you feel so terrible that--"

"That I wish I'd gotten a job instead of coming back home? That maybe I'd wondered why Mom and Dad always looked so freaked whenever I told them tuition was due?

Guess what, Kate? I feel all that stuff."

He stalked into the kitchen and got out the mop, coming back and thrusting it at me.

"But you know what? This isn't about me and, believe it or not, it isn't even about you.

Mom is really upset, and she can't get the house ready for the real estate agent by herself. So shut up, grow up, and help out."

I stared at him, speechless, and then I started to cry. Not because of what he'd said, but because he was upset too and that, more than anything else, made me realize this was going to happen. It didn't matter that I didn't want it to. It didn't matter that it wasn't fair. What I thought and wanted didn't matter, not in this.

Not in anything.

Mom and I cleaned, the real estate agent came, and when she left our house was officially for sale. At least, I assume it was. The two of them went out "to discuss things"

after Mom was done showing her around. I wasn't invited, even though I'd just spent the last few hours wiping dust out of corners that hadn't seen the light of day since before Todd was born.

Even though it was my house too.

I didn't say anything, though. I figured I'd said enough earlier.

I lay down on the sofa, staring at the ceiling because I was too depressed to even turn on the television. Today sucked. I wished I could go out and do something, but where could I go? What could I do? Nothing. There was no one who wanted to see me, except maybe Will.

Will. I sat up.

Will, who had my shoe. Will, who had called me. I could count the number of guys who'd called me on one hand, and until now, it had always been about homework.

I could call him back.

I could, but the thought of doing that made my stomach hurt. What if he wasn't home?

Worse, what if he was? I figured I could get out "Hi, Will" on my own, but everything else--I'd have to write it down first, and then practice. A lot.

And what if I did all that and he just wanted to say, "You left your shoe behind" or, worse, "What? Oh yeah, I called. I gave your shoe to Sarah and she'll give it to you on Monday because I'm going to be really busy making out with her in between classes.

And hey, by the way, what's going to be on our biology test?"

I lay back down on the sofa. No way could I call him. With my luck, why risk it? So far my sophomore year had rendered me friendless, and now I was heading toward homeless.

And that didn't even include the fact that I wasn't allowed to drive, and had to work at the mall. Or deal with Dad and his Perfect You obsession.

No, life was bad enough already and I didn't need it to get worse. Right? I looked over at the phone, then away Then back at the phone again.

Then Grandma came home, and I knew not calling was the right choice because she was more than enough proof that I didn't need to go around making life worse. It would just happen for me.

"Darling, what on earth are you doing?"

"Lying on the sofa."

"Well, get up, darling, and don't look so miserable. Let me tell you about my day. I had the most wonderful time shopping. Look at all the lovely things I got."

I sat up again, and was treated to a show of shirts and pants and then, frighteningly underwear. I lay back down during that part of the show-and-tell, not that it stopped Grandma from talking.

She finally finished and headed back to Todd's room to stow her bags. "So, how was your day?" she called out. I thought about pretending I couldn't hear her, but she'd just come out and ask again, and at least there was a buffer zone when she was in Todd's room.

"Fine. I cleaned the bathroom." It hadn't been easy, mostly because Todd was a pig but also because I had to pick up each of Grandma's makeup/hair/skin products in order to clean under them. Or at least I did after Mom caught me cleaning around them.

"Did you talk to that nice young man who called last night?"

I was not going to answer that question. There was no way I wanted to discuss Will with Grandma.

Naturally, this meant Grandma came back to the living room and made me sit up, then settled down next to me on the sofa. "So, did you speak to--?" "Yes, I talked to him. We're getting married tomorrow. Don't tell Mom."

Grandma patted my knee. "I'm sure things will work out."

"There's nothing to work out. I don't care if I talk to him or not."

She gave me a look I couldn't read, and then said, "Well, if he doesn't appreciate you, then it's his loss."

"Right, Grandma. Thanks."

"Kate, I mean it. Don't define yourself through some boy-- or through anyone. It's not worth it. Not ever."

"You mean like you and--"

"Yes, like me and your grandfather. And your mother and father. Not that I don't think your father is a wonderful father. And he does love your mother. But I look at all your mother is doing, and I can't help but wonder--"

"Wonder what?" Mom was standing in the doorway, and she looked mad.

Grandma looked right at her, not backing down. "Wonder why you've given up so much for a man who is so selfish."

I didn't know it was possible for Mom to look madder than she already did until then. If looks could kill, Grandma would be dying in a really unpleasant way.

"I don't think I want to discuss selfishness with you, Mother. And I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your thoughts on my marriage to yourself, rather than try to sweep Kate into your ridiculous attempts at drama."

"Let's not do this, darling," Grandma said quietly. "I'm leaving in a few days, and I don't want to fight. I want to spend time with you in your lovely home--"

Mom laughed, but it was a brittle sound. "It's not my lovely home. Not for much longer, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

Mom frowned, looking away from Grandma for the first time.

"Darling, if this is about money I told you--"

"No, Mother, it isn't about money. It's about the house." She paused, and I watched her take a deep breath. "We're selling it."

"Selling? But darling, isn't that extreme? Surely even Steve couldn't have run up enough debt--"