Thea at Sixteen (6 page)

“Did Sybil get to be Meg?” Gina asked. “It must be funny being the oldest when you're the youngest.”

“No, we wouldn't let her,” Thea said. “Because if Sybil was Meg, then Evvie would have had to be Beth, and Claire and I wouldn't let her be Beth because …” She stopped, realizing that they wouldn't let Evvie be Beth because Beth died, and they couldn't deal with Evvie dying even in a make-believe game.

“Because why?” Gina asked.

“Because Beth's a wimp,” Kip said. “You know the kind. She always does her spelling assignments and never complains about them.”

“Yuck,” Gina said. “So Sybil had to be Beth?”

Thea nodded. “When I played Little Women just with Sybil, though, I let her be Meg,” she replied. “Sybil was very good at bossing me around.”

One of the nurses walked over to Gina's bed. “I hate to break up this party, but we need Gina for some tests,” she said.

“Should we wait outside?” Kip asked.

The nurse shook her head. “It's going to take a while, and Gina will be pretty tired when we're through,” she declared. “Why don't you make an early day of it this time, and you can visit with Gina tomorrow.”

“I'll be back on Monday,” Thea said. “I'll see if I can get Sybil to come.”

Gina's face lit up. “Do you think she would?” she asked. “I want to meet her so much.”

“I'll ask,” Thea said. She smiled at Gina, and then bent down and gave her a kiss. “You take care, all right.”

“I will,” Gina said. “'Bye, Thea. 'Bye, Kip.”

“'Bye, pumpkinhead,” Kip said. He kissed his sister, and walked out with Thea.

“Thank you,” Thea said to him as they walked down the corridor. “For rescuing me from that story about Little Women.”

“Beth was a wimp,” Kip declared. “She probably died asking for another spelling assignment.”

“I forget sometimes that Gina is dying,” Thea said. “She seems so lively, so vital.”

“You should have known her when she was in remission,” Kip said. “You couldn't keep her down. Now I look at her … Well, she puts out a lot of effort when you're there.”

“She doesn't have to,” Thea said.

“She doesn't do it consciously,” Kip said. “It's good. She gets excited about your visits.”

“Maybe I should come more often, then,” Thea said.

Kip shook his head. “Don't start something you can't continue,” he said. “You've been to see her what, four times? That's okay. That's no big deal. After ten or twelve or twenty times, you might not want to see her quite so often. And then Gina will get used to your visits, come to expect them, and you'll feel like you're letting her down if you don't see her so often, then you'll feel guilty and she'll feel bad and then you'll stop coming altogether. Twice a week is fine. Once a week is okay, too.”

“You really are a cynic,” Thea said. “I like Gina. I like her as a human being. I like spending time with her.”

“Do you like watching her die?” Kip asked.

“I've never known Gina when she wasn't dying,” Thea replied. “The Gina I see now is the only Gina I know.”

Kip stood for a moment, turned around, and faced Thea. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I underestimated you.”

Thea tried to keep from blushing.

“It's just that you're pretty, and you dress well, and there's an air about you,” Kip said. “Something rich and soft.”

“And that's worse than hard and poor?” Thea asked. “You'd trust hard and poor more?”

Kip grinned. “I'd feel more at home with it,” he replied.

Thea smiled back. “Do you think I'll stop coming because Dani has?” she asked.

Kip shook his head. “You're nothing like Dani,” he said. “Dani's wild, and all this is making her mean. Not that I blame her. I'd like to be wild and mean myself.”

“You?” Thea said. “The sub assistant manager of Burger Bliss?”

Kip brushed his hair back off his forehead. “Inside I am wild and mean,” he declared. “Inside I'm a lot of things I don't show when I'm with Gina.”

“Like what?” Thea asked. They were at the hospital door, but Thea didn't want the conversation to stop. She wasn't sure whether it was because she'd been walking with Kip or because she was more accustomed to the place, but this was the first time she hadn't felt lost getting from Gina's ward to the front lobby.

“Like angry,” Kip said, opening the door for Thea to walk through. He followed her out, and they continued to stand together. It was a perfect end-of-September day, the leaves turning, and the sky pure blue. The hospital was on a hill, and from the front door, Thea could see Briarton laid out below. Gina's bed had a view of the town, and Thea had wondered if she liked that, or if it bothered her to know there was a world out there with normal healthy kids.

“You have a lot to be angry about,” Thea replied.

“It's not that simple,” Kip said. “Where do you live?”

“On Oak Street,” Thea said.

“Really?” Kip said. “I would have thought you'd live in one of the newer developments. Or is your family having a not-rich stage right now?”

“My mother wanted a house she could renovate,” Thea said. “So we found a beautiful old Victorian that needs a lot of work. She's been working on it since we moved in, but once she's through, it's going to be perfect. I really hope we'll stay there forever.”

“You don't sound like that's going to happen,” Kip said.

“We've moved around a lot,” Thea replied. “Where do you live?”

“North Street,” Kip said. “In a ratty, small apartment. How about if I walk you home?”

“That's fine,” Thea said. “But won't it be out of your way?”

“I know some shortcuts,” Kip said. “And I have some extra time. Dani won't be expecting me for another hour.”

“All right,” Thea said. They started walking away from the hospital, going downhill. Thea always liked that part of the walk home. It was easier than the walk to the hospital, with the last couple of hundred yards always feeling as though they were on a forty-five-degree angle. “What's not that simple about your anger?”

“Do you know much about alcoholism?” Kip asked.

“No,” Thea said.

“Well, I know a lot about it,” Kip declared. “My mother's an alcoholic, although she manages to hold on to a job. She never drinks before going to work, which is why this four-to-midnight job is so good for her.”

“That must be hard on all of you,” Thea said.

“You make adjustments,” Kip replied. “Everybody has a role. You have a part to play and you play it. One kid might take care of everybody else in the family. One kid is the scapegoat, the troublemaker. One kid runs away, another could make jokes. Only my family got everything screwed up.”

“I don't see that,” Thea said. “You're clearly the grown-up, and Dani's the troublemaker. I don't know which one Gina is, but maybe that's because she's been sick.”

“Gina's sickness is the problem,” Kip said. “You have to remember, Gina's been sick forever. Before then, we had one set of roles, and ever since then, we've had to shift those roles around. Dani used to be the jokemaker. When she was little, she could make the trees smile. And I was the runaway. I stayed away from home as much as I could. I was always sleeping over at a friend's house, even if I wasn't invited, which half the time I wasn't. I felt bad, because I knew my parents were fighting, and things were worse when I wasn't there, but most of me figured that I was their lookout. I didn't even care enough to protect Dani and Gina.”

“But then Gina got sick,” Thea said.

“Right,” Kip said. “She got sick and my father pulled out. He became the runaway, which was really cheating. My mother was already drinking, but after that, she drank a lot more, and Dani stopped making jokes, and I had to become the grown-up. That's what makes me mad. I don't like being this responsible. I'm not a responsible sort of person. I like hiding from things, not having to deal with them. You think I like having to put off college?”

“No,” Thea said.

“I went through a lot to get the scholarships I needed, and the loans,” Kip declared. “I begged on paper. I begged on the phone. Once I begged in person. I hated it. But then Gina got sick again, and the treatments didn't help, and I knew it was just a matter of time, of months, and I had to tell all those people I'd begged from that college was going to have to wait. My life is on hold until Gina dies. That means part of me wants Gina to die, so I can get on with things.”

“You don't want Gina to die,” Thea said. “I've seen you with her. You love her too much.”

“Part of me wants her to die,” Kip said. “We all do. Maybe even Gina wants it a little.”

“Well, I don't,” Thea said. “And I'm going to keep hoping for a miracle. People go into remission unexpectedly. People get cured unexpectedly, too. That's what I want.”

“Fine,” Kip said. “But do me a favor.”

“What?” Thea asked. She wasn't ready yet to grant Kip one without finding out what it was first.

“Don't fill Gina up with false hopes,” Kip said.

“About her getting well?” Thea asked.

“About everything,” Kip said. “Don't tell her she's going to visit your family, when she's never going to leave the hospital again. And don't tell her that precious sister Sybil of yours is going to come for a visit, unless you know for sure she really will. Gina doesn't have anything, so she hopes for things a little more than most people. All she's going to talk about for the next three days is Sybil's visit.”

“I can't guarantee that Sybil will visit,” Thea said.

“That's my point,” Kip said. “You can't guarantee, but Gina's going to count on it. And I don't want her to be disappointed again.”

“I was going to say that I couldn't guarantee it, but I was sure Sybil would come,” Thea declared angrily. “We do things for each other in my family. Not because we're scared or because of roles we play, but because we want to. And when Sybil hears how important it is to me, she'll come visit Gina.”

“I sure hope so,” Kip said. “I don't want to be the one to have to explain to Gina why the legendary Sybil isn't there.”

“You won't have to,” Thea said. “That I do guarantee.”

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

“I don't see why we have to do this,” Claire grumbled. “Wouldn't it be easier just to paint?”

“Easier isn't necessarily better,” Meg replied. “I don't want to cover this grime with another coat of paint. I want to clean it off, and then paint.”

“Fine,” Claire said. “Then you do it. Why should I have to?”

“Because this is a family project,” Nick said. “And you're part of this family, Claire. As long as you live under this roof, you have responsibilities.”

“I'll move, then,” Claire said.

“Think of it as historic grime,” Sybil said. “Filth of a hundred years.”

“If this dirt could talk,” Thea said. “The wars. The anguish.”

“The sex?” Claire asked.

“I don't know how much sex the dining room saw,” Meg said. “I don't even want to know how much sex the dining room saw.”

Everyone laughed. Thea put her pair of rubber gloves on, grabbed a bucket of soapy water, and dropped in a sponge. She had the left-side wall to clean, and the sooner she got to it, the quicker the job would be done.

Sybil followed Thea's lead and was soon hard at work on her wall. Meg scrubbed away as well, and even Claire got into the rhythm, and cleaned. Thea noticed though that Claire took frequent breaks to check on her fingernails. Nicky, who hated working with his hands, provided the fresh buckets of soapy water.

Thea climbed a ladder, and scrubbed close to the ceiling. She felt it wouldn't hurt to have some distance between herself and Sybil when she made her request.

“Do you have any plans for Monday afternoon, Sybil?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“I don't know,” Sybil said. “Megs, do I have any plans?”

“Not that I know of,” Meg replied. “Why?”

“Because Thea just asked me,” Sybil said.

“I know that,” Meg said. “Why did Thea ask?”

“I don't know,” Sybil said. “Why don't you ask her?”

Thea was afraid if she laughed too hard she'd knock the bucket off the ladder. “I asked because, well, it's kind of hard to explain.”

“That means it has something to do with money,” Claire said. “Everything else is easy to explain.”

“If only that were true,” Nick said. “Anyone need a fresh bucket?”

“I do,” Sybil said, and Nicky brought it over to her. “What's up, Thea?”

“Thea's up,” Claire said. “On the ladder.”

“If you'd all stop with the editorial comments, I'd tell you,” Thea said.

“You have my undivided attention,” Nick declared.

Unfortunately, it wasn't Nicky's attention that Thea wanted. She sighed, scrubbed, and thought about how to put it. “You know Gina, the girl I've been visiting?” she began.

“That poor child,” Meg said. “How is she, Thea?”

“She's okay,” Thea said. “I mean, she's dying, so I guess she isn't okay, but she isn't dead yet, so I guess she's okay.” She scowled. None of this was coming out the way she wanted.

“I never want to be sick,” Sybil declared.

“Nobody wants to be sick,” Claire said. “Unless you have a test you didn't study for.”

“That's not what I mean,” Sybil said. “I mean I hate everything about sickness and hospitals.”

“You don't know anything about sickness and hospitals,” Claire said.