Coming Apart (9780545356152) (12 page)

“I was watching Mae play with the dollhouse,” Nikki began, and then her words slid away from her. “All the presents …” She drew in a breath and started over for a second time. “Mae said this morning that she wants to visit Dad this summer. I think she meant that she wants to go to South Carolina.”

“But I'll have full custody —”

“I hate him! I hate that he's doing this! He's
bribing
her. And why? What does he hope will happen? And why isn't he trying to bribe Tobias and me?”

“Honey, your father is complicated.”

“No, he's not. He's mean.”

“He's complicated. People are complicated, and a divorce is complicated.”

“He's trying to make Mae change her mind so that she'll want to live with him.”

“I don't think so,” said Mrs. Sherman. “And in any case, that can't happen. We've been through this, honey. Your father isn't in a position to have any of you kids live with him.”

“Then why is he bribing Mae?”

“I don't know that he's bribing her. Maybe he just wants her to think of him as a good father.”

“Being a good father isn't about presents! Dad's taking the easy way out.”

“You know that, and I know that —”

“But Mae doesn't.”

“I think,” said Mrs. Sherman, “that because your father is aware of how you and Tobias feel about him, he'd like for Mae to feel differently.”

Nikki fell silent.

Her mother stood up, stretched, and joined her on the bed. “I'm not saying that what your father is doing is right, but I think that what he's doing is human. Nikki, nothing is going to come of the gifts —”

“You mean the bribery.”

“— so why don't you stop worrying? Let Mae enjoy the presents. She's not going to go live in South Carolina.”

“Are you
sure
you'll have full custody?” asked Nikki. “Are you absolutely positive?”

“I am absolutely positive. The paperwork has been under way for quite some time. It's true that it hasn't been finalized yet, but your father has never asked for full custody, and he can't afford to have you and Mae live with him. It simply isn't going to happen. It has never even been an issue.”

“The presents are making me nervous.”

“They shouldn't be. I promise you that they aren't going to change a thing.”

 

That night, Mae couldn't sleep. Every couple of hours she woke up, pulled aside the curtains, and tried to see whether the snow was still falling. “Nikki,” she would call across the room, “I think maybe the snow is twelve inches high now.” Or, “Nikki, I can't see anything. It's too dark! Is it still snowing?”

Finally, Nikki got up, tiptoed downstairs in the chilly house, and turned on the light over the back stoop. “Now,” she said to Mae as she scooted into her bed again, “you'll be able to see the snow all night long. Only please don't wake me up again, okay?”

“Okay.”

Nikki closed her eyes.

“Nikki? When is it supposed to stop snowing?”

“I don't know.”

“Tonight?”

“I don't know.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Maybe. I think so.”

“Nikki?”

“WHAT?”

“What do you think it feels like when the snow is as high as your waist?”

“You'll have to find out tomorrow. After you've had a good night's sleep.”

Mae sighed and then looked out the window again. “Hey, the light works really well! I can see the snow flying through the air, flying on a dare, flying without a care. Hey, Nikki, I should write a poem about the snow.”

“Great. Write it silently in your head now, and tomorrow you can put it on paper.”

“Okay. Nikki? Is there snow in South Carolina?”

“Not a flake.”

“Really? Daddy will never see snow?”

“I'm not sure. I'll help you look it up tomorrow, but only if you go to sleep right now.”

 

The next morning, Nikki made her way groggily to the kitchen at nearly nine o'clock. The snow was falling thickly, and Tobias, who had slept soundly all night, was struggling with the front door. At last he said, “I guess there's really no point in opening this until the storm is over.”

“How much snow do you think we have so far?” Nikki wanted to know. “I'm only asking so that you'll be prepared for Mae's questions.”

“Hey, is she still asleep?”

“Yes, and whatever you do, don't wake her up. You'll be sorry.”

Tobias grinned.

Mrs. Sherman, who was watching the Weather Channel in the living room, called, “Sure enough, the worst storm in forty years!”

Nikki opened the refrigerator and pulled out a loaf of bread. “Tobias, do you think I can get out to the shed to see if the dogs found the food?”

“What, now? No way. Seriously, I can't open the door.”

And at that moment, the power went out. The television turned off with an odd chirp, the lights flickered and disappeared, the refrigerator stopped humming, the voice on the kitchen radio faded away, and the toaster, which had just started to glow red, faded to pink and gray and finally black.

“Well, Mae will be happy,” said Tobias.

“Why?” asked Mae, running down the stairs in her nightgown.

“The power just went out,” replied Mrs. Sherman.

“Goody! Can we eat everything in the refrigerator? Can I have ice cream for breakfast?”

Mrs. Sherman hesitated and then smiled. “Yes,” she said. “You may have ice cream for breakfast.”

Nikki turned her thoughts away from South Carolina and dollhouses and stray dogs. She put the loaf of bread back in the refrigerator. “You know what?” she said. “I'm going to have ice cream for breakfast, too.” And she and Mae sat at the table with dishes of Cherry Garcia before them and watched the snow swirl outside the windows.

“Hey!” cried Jack Walter, flicking the kitchen light switch up and down. “The electricity's off!”

Olivia, who had just woken up and had followed her brother down the stairs, looked at a stopped clock in the living room and paused, listening.

“Nothing,” she said.

“What?” asked Henry, and he jumped down the last four steps, landing behind her.

“I don't hear a single sound except our voices. No TV, no radio, nothing humming. Nothing.”

“Mom!” called Henry. “Dad! The power's out!”

“It went out a little while ago,” replied Mrs. Walter. She and Olivia's father were sitting at the table in the dining room, trying to read the previous day's newspaper by the gray light from the windows.

“Whoa, look at all that snow!” exclaimed Jack, and Olivia and Henry joined him at the back door.

“Eighteen inches so far,” said Mr. Walter.

“Whoa,” said Jack again.

“Can we go outside in it?” asked Henry.

“Not until it dies down a little,” replied Mrs. Walter. “This is a real blizzard.”

“Just like in the movies,” said Jack, awestruck.

“Just like in real life,” said Olivia.

“But movies are more exciting.”

“You don't think real life is exciting?” Olivia opened the dark refrigerator and removed a carton of milk.

“I was just
saying
,” said Jack.

Olivia slammed the milk onto the kitchen table. “And I was just
saying
, too. Jeez.”

“Olivia?” her mother called from the dining room. “Could I see you for a minute, please?”

“Ha-ha. Now you're in trouble,” sang Jack.

“Because of you.”

“Olivia, for heaven's sake!” Mrs. Walter set aside the paper, rose from the table, and led her daughter into the living room. “Would you please tell me what's going on?”

Olivia crossed her arms. “All I said was that the storm was like in real life, too. After all, here it is, snowing right in front of us.” Olivia waved one arm in the direction of the windows to illustrate her point.

“Jack was just making an analogy,” replied her mother. (Olivia said nothing.) “And you picked a fight with him.”

“I did not!”

“Would you like me to repeat the conversation I just heard?”

Olivia was tempted to ask if her mother was a recording device, but thought better of it.

“Not only did I hear a foul tone of voice,” Mrs. Walter continued, “which, by the way, was completely unnecessary, but I saw you slam the milk carton on the table. Why?”

“Why did I slam the carton down?”

“Why any of it? Why did you pick a fight? You've only been up for five minutes and already you're fighting with your brother.”

“Well, he was fighting with me, too.”

“Actually, he was defending himself.” Mrs. Walter took Olivia's hands in hers. “Something is going on, Olivia, and we need to talk about it. I want you to spill the beans. You haven't been yourself for quite some time.”

“Do we have to talk this very second?”

“No, because you'll be a lot less crabby after you've eaten. So please return to the kitchen and eat a civilized breakfast with your brothers. When you've finished, we will go to your room and talk.”

Olivia let out a sigh so loud that her father called from the next room, “I hope you didn't roll your eyes just now, Olivia.”

Olivia had been about to but stopped in time. She returned to the kitchen, where she ate bread with peanut butter and drank orange juice while her brothers chattered about building a snow fort with Cole and Travis and Mathias. She left the table when Henry said, “You know what would be funny? If snow forts were called snow farts.”

“Okay. I'm ready for my punishment,” Olivia announced to her mother.

“Could you please put the sarcasm on hold?” asked her father.

Her mother said only, “Upstairs.”

In her bedroom, Olivia, who was wearing a nightgown, a sweater, and her sneakers, sat backward on her desk chair, resting her chin on the top rung. Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped, and waited.

“Am I supposed to start?” asked Olivia.

“Please.”

“You're the one who wanted to talk.”

“Olivia, I have had enough of this. Please tell me right now what is going on. I'm serious.”

And with that, Olivia burst into tears. “I don't know! I don't know what's going on!”

“You don't know, or you don't know how to explain it?”

“Explain it, I guess.” Olivia wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her sweater.

“Does this have anything to do with Jacob?”

“Yes,” said Olivia so softly that she could barely hear the word herself. Her mother waited. At last Olivia said, “Something's wrong with me.”

“Tell me what you mean.”

“I want to like Jacob, but I just don't. I mean, I do like him! He's one of my best friends. But I don't think I like him the way Melody and Tanya do. You know, I don't
like
like him.”

“What's the matter with that, though?”

“The matter is that Jacob
like
likes me. He says I'm his girlfriend. But I don't want him to be my boyfriend, just my friend who's a boy. And,” Olivia rushed on, “everyone
thinks
I'm his girlfriend, and that that's very cool. Flora and Nikki, even Ashley.”

“And you want to talk to Jacob about this, but you don't know how to do that. Is that right? You don't know what to say to him?”

“That's only part of the problem,” admitted Olivia.

“What's the rest?”

“That something's wrong with me. And that's the reason I don't
like
like Jacob.”

“Olivia, I really don't know what you mean.”

“Well, why
don't
I want a boyfriend? Why does having a boyfriend feel all wrong?”

“Maybe because Jacob isn't the right boy for you. Just because he's your good friend doesn't mean he would be your dream boyfriend. Or maybe it feels wrong because you aren't old enough to have a boyfriend or to be a girlfriend. Don't forget that you're the youngest kid in your school. You're nearly two years younger than most of the students in your grade, and that includes Melody, Tanya, Flora, and Nikki. And Jacob.” Olivia nodded miserably. “Honey, do Flora and Nikki want boyfriends?”

“Actually, no. They sort of can't believe Jacob asked me to be his girlfriend. I don't think they're interested in boys yet.”

“Doesn't that tell you something?”

“Yes.”

“So,” said Mrs. Walter, “do you agree that nothing is wrong with you?”

Olivia managed a weak smile. “Yeah.”

“Good. But you know you have to talk to Jacob, don't you? You have to tell him what's going on.”

Olivia nodded. “I do know. I just don't know what to say. And I can't do it right away. I really can't!”

“Then don't. Wait a few days and think about it. Enjoy the storm in the meantime. But promise me you'll talk to Jacob sometime this week. It's only fair to both of you.”