Stacy's Song (14 page)

I guess I never took the time to examine
myself, what I wanted, what was
best for me. I just let other people tell me—like my mother had. She claimed she felt happy, but was she really? I decided I was a lot more like her than I'd noticed. Suddenly, I wanted to talk with her again, talk in a way we never had in my entire life. But she wasn't home.

I lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling. After a while, the ceiling became the floor and I could imagine walking along it. The world turned upside down for me. I closed my eyes and watched the patterns of dark and light dots form beneath my lids. I imagined being buried alive in the ground. In a way, I felt buried alive right now. Which way to turn? What to do next?

I heard the doorbell ring downstairs and I struggled to get up and rush to answer it. Karen stood at the door. It was very cold and she shivered, her breath showing in a stream of vapor like a whale spouting water. “Can I come in and talk to you?”

I stepped aside and let her walk past.

“I feel terrible about last night,” she said.

“Can't understand that, the party was a big success.”

Her green eyes darkened. “Don't start with me. Sometimes you have a real smart mouth, you know that?
I want to say I'm sorry, but I
didn't do anything so bad.”

“No, I guess not. At least, not in your eyes.”

“Can't we be friends again?”

“Of course,” I said, but in my heart, I knew it would never be the same, not for me anyway. “Would you like something to drink, hot chocolate maybe?”

She smiled, her face brightening. “Sure, Stace, that would be great. I walked over here today and it's gotten so cold. Think there'll be snow for Christmas?” She followed me out to the kitchen.

“I hope so for Andy's sake. Dad bought him a new sled and we've got that good sloping hill out back.” I put the water on to heat.

“You and I have been friends for years. I would hate for a little misunderstanding to break us up.”

“So would I.” I kept my eyes on what I was doing, getting out the chocolate mix, taking down mugs.

“So did you and Greg talk this morning?”

“No, as a matter of fact, we didn't. I'm not going out with him again.”

“You're not?” She blinked at me in surprise.

I don't think I could have shocked her more if I told her I was a professional assassin or worked for the CIA.

“Why not, Stace? It's not because of me, is it?”

“No,” I told her, although I suppose that did have something to do with it.

“He's so incredible. I can't believe you'd turn him down.”

I didn't reply. Instead, I went and checked the water, but of course, it hadn't boiled yet. “Karen, I'm going to confide in you, tell you something I haven't even mentioned to my parents.”

She leaned forward with interest. “What's that?”

“I just made an import
ant decision. You see, I don't
care that much about cheerleading. In fact, I've decided I'm going to quit.”

Her eyes opened wide. She looked at me as if I was a dangerous psychotic who should be committed. “If that's a joke, I don't think it's very funny!”

“No joke,” I assured her, “not even a tall tale, if you'll excuse the pun.”

“That's just plain crazy!” She shook her head at me. “We're at the very top now, both of us. Everyone admires us. Even teachers treat us with deference. We've got status, respect. Isn't that what we wanted all along?”

“No, Karen, it's what you wanted. I never even thought about what I wanted. I still don't know what I want or even who I am.”

Karen got up, turned and pointed an accusing finger at me. “Don't you hand me any of that crap, Stacy
Nelson
! You wanted it all just as much as I did. It was our dream! We dreamed it together. You're not the same person anymore. I don't even know you or understand you. I'm leaving.” She grabbed the stadium jacket she had tossed on the kitchen chair and threw it around her. Then she left with a loud slam of the kitchen door.

I didn't bother to follow after her. There wasn't any point. We would never again be close friends. I had nothing more to say to her.

I heard the sound of the water boiling and went to pour the hot liquid into the mix. It was a good half-hour before I
moved again
. My mind just kept clicking away like a camera.

After a time, I went to the piano and I started to play. It was Michael's music I played. No, I d
id
not have his gift for composing music. I c
ould
appreciate good music and discern real quality, but I ha
d
no gift for composing. I went back to my room and got Stacy's Song. I played the music over and over again. And then I began to write down words. They seemed to pour from deep within me. They gushed from a river in my soul.

 

My mother and brother returned to the house around four-thirty in the afternoon. Andy was in a good mood. The little ghoul had just watched a gory horror movie. My mother had all sorts of packages that I helped her bring into the house.

“Where's Dad?” I asked, aware that it was the second time today that I put the question to her.

“He's picking out a Christmas tree for us,” she said with a smile. “I think he had some shopping to do himself. I have a feeling he'll be in a much better mood when he gets home.”

“Count Dracula is thirsty,” Andy informed me.

“I'll pour you something.” I looked in the refrigerator and got out a container of tomato juice. “Here,” I said, handing him a glassful, “drink it before it clots.”

He wrinkled his freckled nose at me. “Gee, thanks.”

“You asked for it.”

I offered to help my mother, but I could see she wanted to be alone, probably to wrap packages. I went to my room to do the same thing. But after working about ten minutes, I grew sleepy and lay down for a nap.

The sound of the telephone ringing in the hall woke me with a start. I heard my mother answer it and then call out to me. It was Greg.

“Hi,” he said in his smooth voice. “How are you feeling today?”

“Okay,” I told him. I waited, wondering what he wanted.

“I'm sorry about last night, you learning about Karen and me that way.”

“It doesn't matter,” I assured him.

“Yeah, it does. If you want to change your mind, well, you can still be my special girl.”

“I
have to spend time on my studies. I think I'm going to axe my social life for a while, until I start gett
ing better grades. My father's
angry with me. In fact,” I took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, “I'm thinking about dropping cheerlead
ing
altogether. I don't have the time for it.”

His reaction wasn't all that different from Karen's. “That doesn't make any sense, Stace.”

“No, I guess it wouldn't
to you
.”

“Is it because of me?” He sounded uneasy.

“Hey, not everything in this world
revolves around
you.”

“Well, it's your life,” he said in his pleasant way. “Just be happy,” he commented, exuding his boyish charm.

“I'll try,” I told him. “One thing, Cindy said that if I hadn't become a cheerleader, you would never have noticed me.”

“What does she know?”

Why did I mention that? I already knew he wasn't the most truthful person I'd ever met.

“Have a nice life.”

“You too. Oh, and Stace?” He gave an embarrassed little laugh.

“What?”

“I guess you won't mind then if I ask Karen out.”

“Do whatever you like. I just hope Randy is
understanding about it.”

I hung up the phone and went back to my room. A few minutes passed and my mother came in. I had picked up one of my old dolls and was hugging it to my face. “I won't be seeing Greg anymore. It's definite.”

She didn't say anything. We just sat on my bed side by side.

“I won't be seeing Karen much, either.”

“Is that what you
want?” Her eyes looked thoughtful.

“I believe so. You probably think I'm being childish rejecting them because they disappointed me, but
it
goes beyond that.”

“We're all human and flawed. You learn that as you grow older. No one's perfect. People make mistakes. If we love them, we forgive them. However, I suppose you know best how you feel.”

“If I hadn't become a cheerleader, Greg would never have asked me out.”

“Does that
matter?” Her dark brown eyes, like rich Swiss chocolate engaged my own.

“Yeah, it kind of does, to me. Is it wrong to want to be liked for yourself?”

“No. Your father and I met at college in the library. I remember how he looked at me and how I looked at him. There was an immediate attraction between us. He came over to me and we started talking. I liked him right away. After the librarian asked us to leave for making too much noise, we walked over to an ice cream parlor on the avenue and got better acquainted. I thought he was wonderful. Perfect. I found out he had his flaws. But no, he never disappointed me the way Greg did you.”

I nodded. Of course, I had heard this story before, but I never tired of listening to it. And she'd never told it to me in quite the same way before. She and I spoke about many things for quite a long time, and somehow I felt a lot better. There is a kindness and sensitivity about my mother that few people have. I always know she has my best interests at heart. She spoke to me today as if I were a grown-up, mature enough to be worthy of her confidences and insights.

Our conversation ended when the front door opened downstairs. A breeze swept through the house.

“Don't argue with your
d
ad. Just talk to him the way you've talked to me. Explain things. He's not an unreasonable person. You can make him
understand how you feel if you
try.”

I wasn't so certain. We walked downstairs, my mother and I. Next to me, she seemed rather delicate, but there was great strength in her gentle heart and mind.

“I've got the tree,” Dad told us with a smile as we joined him in the living room. “Andy and I will put it up tonight.”

My little brother came running in to admire the pine tree. A wonderful fresh outdoor scent permeated the room. Andy touched the prickly needles reverently. Somehow, I knew it wasn't the right time to talk to my father again. I didn't want to spoil Christmas for my family. For the holiday, at least, I could manage a truce.

By Christmas Eve, the tree was trimmed and all the presents were in place. Andy wandered around, picking the gifts up, examining them, shaking them, putting them down again as my father issued a warning now and then.

My parents went out to a party that evening and I babysat for Andy. I did some schoolwork and then watched repeats on television. Under ordinary circumstances, I would have been out with Greg, Karen and the others in that group.
I should have missed it, but I
didn't care. I zoned in on my physics book.

 

Christmas Day arrived on a Monday morning. We exchanged our gifts. Andy jumped up and down with excitement over the sled he'd gotten from Dad, and looked outside to see if it might snow. My father gave me perfume, my mother a beautiful blue sweater and matching denim skirt. My brother's gift from Mom was a computer game, which, of course, he'd wanted. Everyone seemed content with their gifts. I still hadn't spoken to my father, but I decided that it was for the best.

On impulse, I phoned the Norris house. Liz answered. “Hi,” I said. “This is Stacy. Can I drop by today?” I had presents for her, Michael, and Jimmy that I wanted to give them.

“Sure, but only Michael is going to be here. Jimmy asked me to spend the afternoon with his family. I guess you know he and I are kind of going together.” She sounded a little embarrassed. “Mom is visiting Aunt Sara. She wanted Michael to come too, but he refused.”

Michael spending Christmas
D
ay alone—that seemed awful to me.

“I'll be around. Just tell Michael, okay?” Liz didn't ask any questions, for which I was relieved.

My parents were going visiting in the afternoon and wanted me to go with them but I refused. “Just drop me off at the Norrises.”

My father frowned with deep disapproval. I knew we were going to have that talk after all. “What's going on? I thought we agreed you were quitting that band.”

“I have presents for them, Dad. We've been friends for a while so I bought gifts for them.”