Stealing Heaven (7 page)

"Really?" I shouldn't believe him--I know better, I so
know better--but I am lonely. Parties like this always make it worse, remind me
that I've never been to one for fun, that I've never been to a party as me.
I've always played someone else, always had a job to do.

"Yeah," he says, moving closer, and I can tell he's
going to try and kiss me.

I could let him. No one can fool you like you can

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fool yourself--Mom says that all the time--but it's just one kiss,
a kiss from a great-looking guy. Just a connection, no matter how brief, with
someone. I close my eyes.

"Sydney?"

I turn around and Allison is walking toward us, smiling.

"I thought that was you. I love your dress! I've been looking
all over for a blue dress, but they're always the wrong shade of blue, you
know? Too light or too dark or--you know what? Come with me to get a drink and
tell me where you got it, okay?" She loops her arm through mine. "James,
do you want anything?"

"Sure, I'll have a drink," he says easily, but gives
Allison a look when we start to walk off, one I can't read. She raises her
eyebrows at him. He shakes his head, says, "You know, in case you forgot,
I have a mother already."

"Oh, so funny," Allison says. "She's looking for
you, by the way. There's someone else she wants you to meet."

"Did you get a name?"

"Wasn't introduced," she says, her voice shading

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sad for a moment, and then turns back toward me. "Oh! Your
shoes! I have a pair just like them. Don't you just love them? Did you know
they make them in yellow? I almost bought a pair but then I realized I wasn't
sure what would go with them--"

She keeps talking as we walk to the bar. It's so crowded I wait
off to one side while she goes and orders drinks. I wonder what's going on. The
whole thing with her and James was a little weird.

"Weren't you going to get James something?" I ask when
she comes back with only two glasses.

"I would if he hadn't wandered off," Allison says cheerfully,
and hands me a drink. I take a sip. It's club soda. I look at her.

"I saw you go outside when I was trapped talking to my cousin
Blair." Allison makes a face. "She's so boring! Anyway, you were
wobbling a little and I'm not one of those 'drinking is bad!' people, but,
like, some guys around here are kind of jerks, so ..."

She takes a sip of her drink. "Besides, puking during one of
these things? It's awful. Everyone can hear you. Now, I'm totally dying to know
where you got your dress. You have to tell me!"

"What's going on with you and James?"

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"Oh, nothing. He's just ... he couldn't believe you didn't go
walking with him on the beach and when he doesn't get his way he can be--oh
crap. There's Blair." She moves so she's standing behind me. "I can't
handle another conversation about her stupid trip to the Bahamas where
she--"She breaks off as someone bumps into her.

"I'm so sorry," a voice says. A voice I know. "I
didn't even see anyone there...oh, hi, Allison. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Allison says, laughing. "Last year I
got an elbow in the ribs from someone desperate to get to the bar before it
closed. Miranda, right?"

"That's right."

"Sydney, this is--"

I turn and look at my mother standing in front of me. There is a
polite smile on her face, the smile of someone meeting a stranger, and it
doesn't waver at all as she says it's nice to meet me.

"You too," I say, and watch her turn all her attention
on Allison, making her shine under her gaze.

"I'm actually glad I bumped into you," Mom tells her.
"I was trying to escape from a dreadful conversation about security bonds
or something--honestly,

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just because I'm with a banker, it doesn't mean I know anything
about banking. Actually, I'd love to hear the rest of the story you started
before. How on earth did your mother manage to find replacement flowers for
that party on such short notice?"

"Do you want to get another drink?" I ask Allison. I
know I shouldn't be saying this, that I should leave Allison with Mom and go,
but I just--I don't like what Mom is doing. Allison's nice, the kind of nice
that Mom takes advantage of, and it's bothering me more than usual.

Mom gives me the faintest and fastest of looks, annoyance
flickering through her gaze even as her smile stays glittering on her face.

"Never mind," I say, and when Mom's gaze flickers over
me again, add, "I'll be right back," leaving to let her work Allison.
I hope Allison will decide to come with me, but she doesn't, and is still
talking to Mom when I'm waiting at the bar again.

Not my problem, I tell myself. Allison talking is what we want.
The bartender tells me all that's left is scotch. I take the glass I'm given
and sip it slowly, trying not to make a face.

"They must be down to scotch."

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James again. I put my glass on the bar.

"How did you guess?"

"It always happens. In about ten minutes there'll be a run on
the bar, and then everyone will go home."

"So I guess you're leaving?"

"I was going to, but then I saw you and realized I hadn't
said good-bye."

"Right."

He grins at me. "You don't like me, do you?"

"I don't know you."

"Well, we could change that," he says, and draws me
toward the side of the room, into a corner the caterers were using earlier.
It's just the two of us now, the last of the catering crew heading down a hall
beside us.

"I'd really like to get to know you," he tells me, and
cups my jaw with one hand, tilting my face up toward his. Very smooth. Too
smooth. I lift my foot up, ready to mash it down on top of his, and then someone
says, "Look, I get that you have to pack up. I'm just asking if it's
necessary for you to pack up by leaving three vans in the middle of the street.
Could you maybe just pull them over to the

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side--oh, sorry about that."

Whoever's talking bumps into me and I stumble. James's
arms--naturally--catch and close tight around me.

"Are you okay? I didn't mean to--oh. Hey."

I turn around to see who's talking to me. It's Greg the cop. He's
in his uniform tonight. He actually looks kind of cute--No! Not going there.
Dark blue polyester does nothing for anyone. Not even him.

"I'm fine," I say.

He nods, glances at James's arms around me.

"Sorry about all that," he says to James. "Are you
okay?" James doesn't reply, just stares at me like I'm the only person in
the world. I barely manage not to roll my eyes.

"Okay then," Greg says, "guess you'll live."
He looks back at me, and I wonder if he's going to bring up the grocery store
or worse, call me Hortense, but then one of the catering people calls out,
"Look, we're moving the vans, all right? There's no need to have a tow
truck come down here," and he turns away.

"Hey man, I didn't call anyone," he says. "Someone
else must have Complained. How much stuff do you have left? Just this and this?
Okay, you get that and

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I'll get this --damn, what's in here, bricks?"

He's still talking as he leaves the hallway and heads outside. He
turns back once and I look away quickly, focus on James.

James is still giving me that stupid look. I can't believe I ever
thought, even for a second, about letting him kiss me. There's no way this guy
would ever make me feel less alone. I slide out of his arms, walk away without
looking back.

Mom is already in the car when I get there, sitting in the
driver's seat with her eyes closed and her hands resting lightly on the
steering wheel.

"Didn't think you'd beat me here," I say.

"The Donaldson girl wore me out. Talks a mile a minute, I
swear. T love this, I love that, oh my God, I just love--"'

"She's not like that. I mean, she didn't seem like that to
me. She seemed nice."

Mom snorts. "Of course she's like that. Trust me, baby, if
you were some tourist she passed on the street she'd be a lot less
'nice.'"

"I guess," I say, and think of Allison complaining about
how the people she's expected to hang out

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with are awful and shallow. I remember how much she likes Brad, a
regular guy, a guy who doesn't even have connections to money. Mom would call
Brad-- she wouldn't call him anything. He'd have nothing she could use, and so
she'd never notice him.

"So," Mom says, interrupting my thoughts. "Who were
you with over in the corner? I saw you as I was leaving. Next time try a
closet. They're more private and a lot more fun." She winks at me.

"What?" She thought I was with James? That I'd want to
be with someone like him? Someone like-- well, someone like us?

"Hey, it's about time you started to live a little. Maybe now
you won't get all uptight whenever I'm having fun. That'd be nice."

"Mom --" I say, stung.

"Look, I could be really pissed that you talked to the
Donaldson girl and didn't get anything and then almost blew it when I came over
to take care of things. But I'm not. So why don't you-- " She coughs, loud
and harsh. I watch her as she tries to stop, pressing her lips together, but
the coughs keep coming, making her shudder and hunch forward.

I lean over and rub her back. She rolls her eyes

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at me but doesn't move away. I can feel her back shuddering under
my hand, the coughs shaking her whole body. "Mom?"

She shakes her head, coughs once more, and then sits up, starts
the car.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

"Fine, baby. Don't I look it?"

"Of course," I say automatically. "It's just... you
look kind of tired." She does, which frightens me. I've seen Mom look
angry, happy, focused. But never tired. Not like this, a weary expression on
her face, creating lines around her eyes and mouth. I've never thought of Mom
as old, ever, but right now she looks like she is.

"Oh, it was just that crap champagne," she says, and
closes her eyes briefly. I look at the road flying by and press my hands
against the seat. This is the Mom I know, the one who is daring in ways I will
never be. I would never drive blind down a road, not ever.

When she opens her eyes she turns, smiles at me. She looks like
herself again. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

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"How many times have we done this, baby?"

"A lot."

"And we always get it done, don't we?"

"Yeah," I say. "We do."

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11

Mom wakes me up at seven and tells me she wants donuts.

"That's great," I say. "Bring me back

one." I pull a pillow over my head and shut my eyes.

"Okay," Mom sighs. "I'll just put away all the
stuff I was working on and drive to the store. I didn't realize you were
busy."

Now it's my turn to sigh. "I'm trying to sleep."

"Please, baby," Mom says, sitting down next to me.
"I have to meet Harold later and--"

"Fine," I say, because I know where this is going and
that's Mom staying here until I agree. "But you know, in the time it took
you to wake me up you'd have been halfway there already."

"But I don't want to go. And besides, what good is being
halfway there?" She kisses my forehead and

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goes back downstairs, humming. I get up and throw on some clothes,
head out to the car.

The donut place is packed and I'm stuck waiting in line behind a guy
with two screaming children who seem determined to try and shatter the windows.
Mom always wants donuts or some sort of pastry after a good night. I once had
to drive to four convenience stores in middle-of-nowhere Maryland to find
something for her to eat after we'd hit a place way out on the Eastern Shore.

The screaming children are really going at it now, both of them
shrieking "You touched me!" at the same time. I close my eyes and rub
my forehead.

"Hey, Hortense. I was just thinking about you."

I turn around and see Greg standing behind me. He's not in uniform
today. He has a bruise on his face, right by his jaw, a really nasty-looking
one. I wonder what happened to him, if he's okay.

I have to snap out of this--whatever I feel around him.
"Lucky me. And stop calling me Hortense."

"But I thinks it kind of suits you. And seriously,

I
was.

"It does not suit me. And you thinking about me means what?
That there're three girls in town

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now instead of two?"

"Close. Five."