The Forget-Me-Not Summer (4 page)

W
hen Samantha's mother dropped Zinnie off at home that afternoon, Zinnie finally released the tears she'd been holding back the whole car ride. She dried her eyes with the sleeve of her T-shirt (a Marigold hand-me-down, which as usual didn't look nearly as good on her as it had on her sister). Then she made herself a cup of hot cocoa and put a slice of Berta's chocolate chip banana bread in the microwave. Now that she had been kicked out of acting class, her dream of being a movie star with Marigold was crushed.

As she watched the microwave rotate the banana bread, she thought about the fact that she was never going to play the long-lost orphan sister on
Seasons
. There would be no important meetings that she and Marigold would go to in coordinated outfits, nor would
there be magazine articles about the amazing Silver sisters, starring in their very own movies. Was she always going to be on the outside of Marigold's fabulous life, just looking in? She plucked a napkin from a stack and wiped her eyes.

And yet Zinnie was also relieved. Nothing that Ronald had ever said made any sense to her. Acting class wasn't fun, and now she wouldn't have to go back. As she added a few extra minimarshmallows to her mug, she realized that she felt lighter. A weight had been lifted, even if it had left a dusting of disappointment.

The microwave beeped. Zinnie removed the banana bread and carried her snack toward the sunporch, which she thought was the nicest room in the Silvers' house. She liked the cozy chair with its sun-bleached cushion and a matching ottoman that Mom had picked up at a flea market. It was the only place Zinnie could find true peace. Lily burst into her room a minimum of three times a day, wanting to watch cartoons or raid Zinnie's art supplies, and Marigold barged in whenever she needed Zinnie's pencil sharpener or a hair band.

Usually, no one ever thought to look for her on the sunporch, but today, when she crossed the sunny threshold with her cocoa and banana bread in hand, she nearly tripped in the doorway. Her whole family was sitting there, looking as if they'd been waiting for
her. Had Ronald P. Harp called ahead to tell them all the news of her failure?

“I didn't see it coming,” Zinnie said. “I'm sorry if I've disappointed you!”

“What are you talking about?” Dad asked.

“Ronald P. Harp didn't call to tell you I'd been kicked out of the class,” Zinnie asked, “because I'm not good enough to be in it?”

“No, Zin,” Mom said, wincing as if she were also feeling the sharp pain of being rejected. “Are you okay, honey?”

Zinnie felt tears gathering behind her eyes again.

“That man is a fool,” Dad said.

“He is not,” Marigold said, crossing her arms. She was sitting on the sofa. Lily was next to her, patting a small coffee stain with her hand.

“Sorry, Marigold,” Dad said. “I shouldn't have said that. And Zinnie, no, he didn't call and tell us.”

“So, are we all here to celebrate because Marigold has an agent now?” Zinnie asked, hoping to change the subject.

“We don't know yet,” Mom said. “We should hear very soon.”

“But the audition went well. Jill Dreyfus said she had a great feeling about me,” Marigold said. She seemed oddly sullen about the good news.

“You were fantastic,” Mom said. “And of course she had a great feeling about you. You're a great kid.”

“What's the point now, though? I don't know if it matters anymore,” Marigold said, shaking her head in defeat. “I don't know if anything matters.”

“Okay, what's going on?” Zinnie asked.

“We're having a family meeting,” Mom said with a smile, as though this were something the Silver family did.

“We're moving!” Marigold said. “To Canada!”

“Canada?” Zinnie asked, totally confused.

“Marigold, I already told you that wasn't true,” Mom said.

“Then why are we having a family meeting?” Marigold asked.

Zinnie gasped, realizing this was the dreaded divorce talk. She had been momentarily distracted by her acting class, but it was all coming together now. “Don't you see? They're getting a divorce!”

“Zinnia Jane Silver!” Mom said, sitting upright. “That is absolutely not true.”

“Are you bored with us?” Zinnie asked Dad. “Are you stuck? Do you need to move on?”

“No,” Dad said. “I could never be bored with you, sweetheart.”

“What's a divorce?” Lily asked.

“It's when people aren't married anymore because”—Zinnie glared at Dad—“they need a change or”—a new and terrible thought occurred to her—“they're in love with someone else.”

“You're not in love with Daddy?” Lily asked Mom.

“No, sweet pea,” Mom said.

“You aren't?” Marigold said.

“That's not what I said,” Mom said.

“So you're leaving him?” Zinnie asked.

“Girls,” Dad said, “no one is leaving anyone.”

“Then what is going on?” Marigold asked. “Because if it weren't a big deal, you wouldn't have to have us seated all together like this on the freaking sunporch.”

“If you can listen for a minute, we'll explain,” Mom said, and took a deep breath. “We certainly aren't getting a divorce.”

“But we're in a bit of a second-act slump,” Dad said.

“Oh, Joe, don't say that. You'll confuse them,” Mom said.

“Just spit it out!” Marigold said.

“I've had writer's block for a year,” Dad said, standing up. “And it's been killing me.”

“Is that all this is about?” Zinnie said. “You've had writer's block before. You always get over it.”

“Not like this,” Dad said. “I don't know who I am when I'm not writing.”

“You're Daddy,” Lily said.

“Yes, I am,” Dad said, and gave Lily's knee a re-assuring pat. “So here's the deal. I was thinking how I needed to get out of this crazy town, where you're over the hill at thirty. I was thinking we all should get out of this place.”

“See! We
are
moving,” Marigold said, slamming her fists into the sofa.

“Then the most amazing thing happened.” Dad continued, giving Marigold a “calm down” gesture. “About a week ago I got a phone call from my old college roommate, Bobby. He's a redwood expert now. He's just discovered a patch of old-growth trees on private land, one of which he thinks is the tallest tree in the world. It could be four hundred feet tall. He's going to measure it with his team, and I'm going to film it as a documentary. If we can raise enough money, we can buy the land and save not just the tallest tree but the whole forest. Otherwise, the landowners might sell it to a lumber company. But Bobby and his team are amazing and this is a great story and it's just the kind of project I've been looking for. Nothing to do with robots.”

“So why did you tell the lawyer that you needed a change?” Zinnie asked.

“That was business. That was about my agent, who doesn't want me to take this project. After ten years we're going to part ways. Wait, were you listening to my phone call?” Dad asked. Zinnie avoided his gaze. “We'll talk about that later, Zinnia.”

“Where is this tree?” Lily asked.

“It's in a secret location,” Dad said.

“But we don't keep secrets in this family,” Lily said, repeating what her parents had said so many times before.

“I don't even know exactly where it is. The only thing I can tell you is that it's near Big Sur,” Dad said. “And that I'll be gone for most of July.”

“But that's not all,” Mom added. “I'm going to Canada.”

“Why?” Marigold asked. “Are we going, too?”

“We're getting to that,” Dad said.

“It's just me going, Marigold. If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. You know how I've been wanting to go back to work,” Mom said. “The same day your dad got his phone call, I was offered an editing job for a big director.”

“Who?” Marigold asked.

“Katherine Jackson,” Mom said.

“The Oscar nominee,” Dad added. Marigold nodded with approval.

“But I have to be on set in the middle of Canada, working pretty much around the clock for three weeks in July,” Mom said. “I've been agonizing over whether or not to take the job for days, but finally I realized that I need to take it. This is my chance. If I do a good job with this, I'll have my pick of jobs in L.A. next year.”

“So Dad's going to Big Sur and you're going to Canada.” Zinnie was interested in the practical facts. It was not easy to live with so many people and their dreams. There was a lot to keep track of. “Where does that leave us kids?”

“Who's going to stay with us?” Marigold asked.

“Berta?” Zinnie asked.

“Berta!” Lily clapped.

“Berta's going back to Oaxaca for the summer,” Dad said. “Unfortunately, her mother isn't well.”

“We'll go with her to Mexico,” Lily said.

“I can't leave the country! Not when my career is just getting started,” Marigold said.

“Actually,” Mom said, “we're sending you back east for three weeks in July, to Pruet, Massachusetts. To stay with my aunt Sunny.”

“Massachusetts?” Marigold practically spit the state's name.

“You're going to love Cape Cod,” Dad said.

“Who's Aunt Sunny?” Lily asked.

“An old lady we barely know!” Marigold said.

“My favorite aunt,” Mom said. “Marigold and Zinnie met her when they were very young.”

“When are we leaving?” Zinnie asked.

“Next week,” Dad said.

“I'm going to miss auditions,” Marigold said. “How can you do this to me?”

“There's more to life than auditions,” Dad said.

“Like what?” Marigold asked.

“Like smelling the salt air and building sand castles with your sisters,” Mom said. “Living an actual life. It's not even for a month.”

“There's a really cool estuary in Pruet,” Dad said.

“You think I care about estuaries? How do you expect me to get a job if I can't audition?”

“Here's the thing, Marigold. I don't expect you to get a job,” Dad said.

Marigold let this sink in, and Zinnie watched her try to formulate a response. When none came, Marigold stood up and stormed out of the room.

The rest of the family sat in silence until Lily announced, “I don't even know what an estuary is!”

T
he girls had been to the East Coast only twice in their lives. When Marigold was six and Zinnie was five, they visited Boston, where their mom had gone to college. They rode on the T, which is what people call the subway in Boston, saw statues of important men in old-fashioned clothes, and watched fireworks on the Charles River on the Fourth of July. It was on this trip that they visited Pruet, though only for an afternoon. Lily wasn't born yet.

On their second trip east, they visited New York, where Dad had gone to college, at Christmastime. They stayed in a fancy hotel with a doorman, ice-skated at Rockefeller Center, went window-shopping, and saw a Broadway show. Zinnie had loved it there. She loved the cold on her cheeks and the smell of roasting peanuts. They went for a horse-and-carriage ride, and it
snowed. Her mother bought Marigold and her matching red coats with fake fur collars.

This was when Marigold was nine and Zinnie was eight, back when Marigold would hold her hand and make up songs with her. (“We're two girls who walk when the walk sign says walk, so let's walk-a-walk-a-walk-a right now!”) When she brought up the New York trip to Marigold, Marigold acted like she didn't remember. “It was so cold,” she'd say. Or “It smelled like pee everywhere,” Or “Those ice skates hurt my ankles.” This reaction confused Zinnie, because she remembered magical shop windows and Christmas ballerinas and steaming, salty hot dogs in the park.

Lily stayed home with Berta because she was so little. Zinnie remembered liking that trip so much in part because she got to be the youngest again. Lily had been getting all the attention back home. But on that vacation, Zinnie was the one who swung between her parents' hands and always somehow seemed to get her way. It felt like the way it used to be, back when there were only two Silver sisters, when Marigold wasn't into acting yet, and it felt like they were both stars.