The Good Sister (14 page)

“Her eyes were beautiful.”

“Green,” he said. “Like them grapes.”

After he took his seat, she didn’t call another student. Leaving the classroom aide to distribute a personal questionnaire
Roxanne kept for her private files, she went into the hall and called Ty’s cell phone. The image of Taryn watching television
and unnoticed by either her father or Chauncy, the sound of a .45 pistol ricocheting off the walls of the living room, a door
opening, and a mother’s screams were the sound track for a movie running through her imagination. Ty didn’t answer and she
was too disheartened to leave a message.

Later, as she was eating lunch with Elizabeth in her classroom, the powerful image of the girl’s death had not diminished.

“She was right there in the room and no one paid any attention to her. She might as well have been invisible until then.”
She dumped her lunch in the trash; the smell of ham turned her stomach.

Elizabeth fished a tissue from her purse and handed it across the desk.

Roxanne had planned to start the year with a young
adult novel based on the story of Cyrano de Bergerac. For enrichment and entertainment she had ordered a movie, Steve Martin’s
comic retelling of Cyrano’s story. Later in the term a pair of actors from San Diego State would visit Room 110 and enact
several scenes from the classic play. There would be a fencing demonstration.

“But why should a boy like Ryan give a shit about Cyrano? Maybe I should find something grittier, more—”

“What? Relevant? Just in case Ryan forgets his cousin got shot in the head? That’s not going to happen. And poor old Cyrano’s
so far from his experience, it could be what the kid needs right now. Steve Martin might make him laugh.”

Elizabeth was a wise and experienced teacher who, despite her diminutive size, could manage a classroom full of hard cases,
and her opinions mattered to Roxanne. It was such a relief to be talking about Ryan, not holding his story inside where there
was already so much piled up, unresolved.

“Rox, when you strip away all the fancy language, isn’t Cyrano just a play about low self-esteem and learning to speak up
for yourself?”

“You’re saying it’s perfect for eighth graders.”

“My own brilliance blinds me.”

They listened to the noise of kids at the outdoor lunch tables where they ate on all but rainy days. Elizabeth asked about
the weekend at Huntington Lake, and Roxanne shared the grisly details until her cell phone rang from the
depths of her purse. Hoping it was Ty, she checked it fast, but when she saw the caller ID she let it ring through and listened
to the message.

“That was Merell. She wants me to ask the principal if I can leave work early. Simone’s fired the nanny.” Roxanne laid her
forehead on the desktop. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Even if she wanted to be responsible for the Duran family—which she didn’t—there was no way she could do it without risking
her marriage.

Despite Elizabeth’s often repeated conviction that they happened every day, Roxanne was skeptical about miracles. Elizabeth
believed in so many things that made no sense. Auras and directed dreaming, angels and spirit guides, and extraordinary and
unlikely events brought about by planetary alignment or the hand of an unseen god. Roxanne could laugh at most of these, but
miraculous was the only way she could explain Ty and the great good luck of their meeting: two very different people who somehow,
against all odds, met and discovered they were perfectly suited. An everyday miracle. Forced to choose between her sister
and a miracle, she had to choose Ty. To do otherwise would be to turn her back on the future, on hope and laughter and all
good things. But at the lake she had seen how stretched thin and perilous Simone’s family situation was, and it was unthinkable
that she would abandon her sister and nieces when their need was so great. She would have to find a way to satisfy everyone.

She remembered Merell’s excited conversation on the plane, her breathless tour of the compound and the way she stood up on
her bike pedals and bounced along the swamped road.

“She’s such a needy kid.”

“Heads up, Rox, they’re all needy.” Elizabeth stood, brushing crumbs off the front of her denim skirt. “But it’s your life.
You can decide if you want to jump into that suck hole or stay away. Whatever you decide, I’ve got your six.”

Your six. The one who watches your back.
The military figure of speech reminded Roxanne that Elizabeth had troubles of her own. Her husband, Eddie, had been in Afghanistan
for months. “I must be the worst friend in the world, Lizzie.”

“Nah. I think Dick Cheney’s got that honor. You never tried to shoot me.”

“What do you hear?”

“Same as ever. Nothing. I got a call from his friend Calvin last night. He said Eddie wanted me to know he was safe but he
couldn’t get to a phone or a computer.” She stared down at Roxanne’s desktop. “I just realized. Eddie’s the opposite of these
kids, Merell and all. They all need to be noticed and Eddie’s life depends on staying out of sight.”

Roxanne left school soon after the closing bell, parked her car at the side of Simone’s house, and walked around back, where
she was surprised to see Johnny down at the
pool with the twins. She waved to him and walked into the house, where she came upon Simone standing in the center of the
family room.

She said, “I knew you’d come.”

“You fired Franny and then you called Johnny away from work? You’re out of your mind, Simone. I swear to God. Bonkers.”

“He’ll call the agency and find someone else.”

“Save him the trouble. You call Franny right now, I’ll dial the number. Apologize and give her a bonus.”

“Why should I? I didn’t do anything wrong.” Simone hurried Roxanne out of the family room and across the entry to her study
adjoining Johnny’s. “I need to talk to you about something else right now.”

“Why are you whispering?”

Simone’s study was a suffocatingly feminine room, a flurry of florals and stripes in pastel blues and pinks in which Roxanne
would have found it difficult to accomplish anything constructive. Simone closed and locked the door, took a deep, audible
breath and stepped behind her ladylike desk—too small to be useful to anyone who really had work to do. She began sorting
absently through a pile of unopened mail.

“Look at me, Simone. What’s going on? Why did you fire her?”

“I got sick of the way she acted like she knew my own family better than I did. And she treated me like I’m an invalid. And
an idiot.” Simone looked up from the mail
and her sudden grin swept years from her face. “I climbed a tree last week so don’t fuck with me.”

“You could climb a mountain and you still wouldn’t have that girl’s talent for kids.” Roxanne recognized the grandiosity that
often accompanied Simone’s bursts of mania. There was no telling where her mood would go next. She could swing from helpless
to unrealistically confident to abysmally miserable in a matter of minutes. Under such circumstances Roxanne would normally
tread carefully, but on this day she couldn’t be bothered. “You can’t get along without her.”

“When was the last time anyone gave me a chance?”

“She was the best nanny in the world. She was golden. Who’ll take care of your kids?”

And who will take care of you?
Roxanne was afraid she knew the answer to that question.

Simone reached into her purse and handed Roxanne a photograph, an ultrasound image, speckled and blurred as if taken through
a windshield on a snowy day. Roxanne isolated the bud of a retroussé nose, a prominent forehead, an arm.

“If you’re looking for the ding-dong,” Simone said, “don’t waste your time. It’s another girl and you know what that means.
Once she’s born, I have to go through the whole fucking thing again.”

Simone’s moods were mercurial; she could be cunning and she was often secretive, but in some ways she was predictable. Swearing
was always a bad sign.

“Quit complaining and have your tubes tied, use birth control.”

“I have another plan.” Simone grabbed the photo and dropped it in the wastepaper basket beside the desk. “That’s why I told
Merell to call you. You’ve been so snotty lately—”

“I just spent the whole weekend with you!”

“—I didn’t think you’d come if I called.”

“What kind of a plan?”

“Today, when I was having it out with Franny, I got this feeling. I can’t explain how it works, but it’s like knowing something
without having to think about it. The feeling just comes into me and I know what I have to do.
I know.
”

This isn’t good.

“What does this have to do with Franny?”

“You don’t get it, Rox, because everything works for you. You’ve got the world all figured out, lined up and alphabetized.
You always have.” Simone’s mouth tightened into a line. “Just imagine what it’s like for someone like me who doesn’t have
anything
figured out. Then all of a sudden I get this click in my head and I understand something perfectly. I
know.
”

After a weekend swinging between extremes of mania and depression, Simone had settled in a position of unassailable certainty
it was pointless to argue with.

“Starting today, everything changes.” Spots of red bloomed in her cheeks. “The first thing I’m going to do
is tell Johnny that I am not having another damn baby. I didn’t want to do it until you got here. Just in case he decides
to kill me.” She laughed.

Nervously, Roxanne thought.

“The second thing is, I called a clinic and made an appointment. For an abortion.” She looked as pleased as a child displaying
an A exam after weeks of failing grades. “I have to talk to a counselor first so tomorrow morning I need you to drive me there
and then bring me home. I can’t take a taxi. I need your moral support. Then after it’s all over I’ll tell Johnny I miscarried
again, and he’ll never know.”

She looked at Roxanne expectantly.

“And I’m going on the pill.” She laughed again. Electric, dangerous. “I’ll say they’re vitamins. For my hair.” More laughter.

“How far along are you?”

“I don’t know. The picture came out so good, the doctor says he thinks we might have miscalculated.”

“Five months?”

“Something like that.”

“Did you tell them that on the phone?”

“Who?”

“The clinic.”

Simone pouted. “You don’t want me to do it.”

“I’m saying, Simone, you’re pretty far along.” Outside the study window Roxanne saw the sparkle of sunlight on water drops
as sprinklers rainbowed the lawn, flashing like the aura of a migraine. “It’s going to make a difference.”

“Five months is nothing.”

“It’s fingers and toes, Simone.”

“You believe in the right to choose. I know you, Rox, you give money to Planned Parenthood.”

“That’s true, but you’re not eighteen years old and unmarried.” And Johnny wasn’t an abuser, a cheater, or a deadbeat. He
loved his wife, and his four little girls were precious to him. “He has to be part of this decision. And the counselor’s going
to say the same thing.”

“I told her I was single. Divorced.”

“He has a right—”

“What about me? Why don’t you talk about
my
rights? Roxanne, he’ll never let me do it.” Her voice rose, shattering between them like glass. “Abortion’s murder to him.”

“That may be so but you still can’t ignore—”

The doorknob rattled. “Simone? What’s going on in there?”

“I’m your sister,” Simone hissed as she went to the door and unlocked it. “You owe me this.”

Simone’s study wasn’t large and Johnny was a big man. Three long strides took him into the middle of the room. “You ought
to be getting dressed, Simone. Have you forgotten we’re going out tonight?” His eyebrows dug a crevasse between his eyes.
“You chose a great day to fire Franny. I bet you didn’t even think about getting a babysitter.”

Simone blinked, looked at Roxanne and back at Johnny. “You can go without me.”

“Jesus, Simone, it’s the Judge Roy Price Dinner. We’re at the mayor’s table.”

“He’ll never miss me,” she said, her hands fluttering up. “It’s you they all like so much.”

“That may be true but after what Merell did I want you beside me so the gossip machine doesn’t start.”

“I don’t feel good.”

“So what? You never feel good.”

Roxanne grabbed her purse and headed for the door. Johnny put his hand on her shoulder to stop her.

“Could you help us out here, Rox? We’ll be home by eleven, tops.”

“Ask Mom.”

“It’d be a real treat for the kids. Get Ty over here too. There’s great steaks in the freezer. You want me to pay you? Hey,
you’re a professional, I get it.”

“Don’t insult me, Johnny.”

Stunned by her tone, then hurt, he looked down. Roxanne saw the exact moment when his eyes focused on the ultrasound image
in the basket near his feet.

He picked it out and squinted at the image. As if he couldn’t believe the evidence before him, he brought it closer to his
face. “You went to the doctor? Without telling me?”

Simone clutched her hands behind her back and stood straighter, holding her shoulders so high they almost touched her ears.

“It’s a girl, isn’t it?” For a fraction of a second Johnny
looked disappointed and then he laughed. “I don’t think you know how to make a boy, Simone.”

“Sperm determine the sex of the child,” Roxanne said. “She has nothing to do with it.”

“No kidding. Really?”

“It’s been that way for some time.”

“So I’m like my dad, right?” He appeared pleased by this news. “It took him seven girls to get me. We’ve already got four
so after this one”—he flapped the ultrasound picture—“there’s only a couple more to go. Right? Eight’s the magic number.”

Roxanne’s throat tightened like the first day of the worst cold she would ever have.

Simone rushed into the silence, her words tumbling over each other in a dash to have them said. “I don’t want another baby
right now. I’ve decided to have an abortion.”

The word sat in the middle of the room.