Dear George Clooney: Please Marry My Mom (14 page)

I fled toward the classroom.
Oh, well,
I thought,
at least the day can’t get any worse
.

I was so, so wrong.

——

As I neared our class, I heard laughter, which was unusual. Normally there was nothing to laugh about at school on a Monday morning.

A bunch of kids were gathered around our sole computer terminal at the back of the class. Ashley was in the middle, showing them something on the screen.

“Oh my God!” I heard one girl say.

“Ouch,”
said Claudia.

Lauren turned away from the computer screen for a moment. Our eyes met. She smirked and tapped Ashley on the shoulder. Ashley turned around.

“Violet, you poor thing!” Ashley said, her voice dripping with false concern. “Have you seen these photos on Facebook? Your mom’s friend Karen posted them on the weekend.”

It felt like I was walking in slow motion as I made my way toward the computer.

I looked at the screen.

The photos were almost a year old. In one, Mom and Karen were in crop-tops, their midriffs showing, drinking shooters. In another, they were drinking more shooters, and two guys had their arms around them. I recognized the guy who had his arm around my mom. It was Carl, the alcoholic.

But the worst photo showed my mom bending over Carl to kiss him. The top of her red thong underwear was clearly visible in her low-cut jeans.

I felt like I was underwater. I could see my classmates’ faces – some laughing, some feeling sorry for me – but I couldn’t hear anything. Jean-Paul stood near the doorway. Phoebe was nowhere to be seen.

I turned back and looked at Ashley. Suddenly I crashed to the surface again and could hear her shrieking with laughter. “You poor thing, Violet! I mean, irregardless of these photos –”

“Regardless,” I said quietly.

“What?”

“It’s
regardless. Irregardless
doesn’t make sense. It’s a double negative,” I said, louder this time. “Anyone with half a brain knows that.”

Her features hardened. “
Irregardless
of those photos, Pancake,” she said, her voice like ice, “your mom is a total skank.”

I had never swung a punch before in my life. But I guess there’s a first time for everything.

F
OR THE RECORD: I did not mean to break Thing One’s nose.

I
did
mean to hit her, but I
didn’t
mean to break anything. Not that the subtle difference mattered to Mr. Patil. When he entered the classroom, he saw Ashley clutching her nose, blood spurting between her fingers, and me, rubbing my sore knuckles. He marched me to the principal’s office. And because I couldn’t bring myself to tell the principal about the photos of my mother, I took all the blame.

“Mr. Patil will go with you while you gather up your things from your locker,” Ms. Marlatt told me. “You’re suspended for the rest of the week.” Then she picked up the phone and called my mom at work.

Mom picked me up in the Rust Bucket twenty minutes
later. She was so upset, she didn’t say a word, which was probably a good thing since I wouldn’t have heard her over the noise of the busted muffler. When we arrived home, Mr. and Mrs. Bright were in their front yard, doing their first bit of spring gardening. They glared at Mom.

“You need to get that muffler fixed,” Mr. Bright shouted.

“And you need to get your nose out of my business!” my mom shouted back, as she marched up the front steps and into the house.

The moment we were through the front door, she lit into me.

“Suspended! For the rest of the week!” She threw her car keys down on the entranceway table. “What is wrong with you these days, Violet? I don’t even know who you are anymore! You’re belligerent and rude…. You spy on my boyfriend…. You break a girl’s nose! What has happened to you?”

“What’s happened to
me
? What’s happened to
you
?” I screamed back. “Do you know why I punched her, Mom? Because she called you a skank, that’s why!”

Mom looked completely taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“Your stupid friend Karen posted a bunch of her stupid photos on stupid Facebook. You’re drinking in the photos. You’re kissing Carl. You’re showing off your thong underwear!”

All the color drained from Mom’s face. “I can’t believe Karen posted those pictures.”

“I can’t believe you were
in
those pictures!”

“Those pictures – it feels like a lifetime ago. It was a terrible time for me, Violet. I was depressed, I felt totally undesirable – I made some really stupid choices.”

“Ever since Dad left, you’ve been this totally different person. Dressing like a teenager. Dating all these gross guys. Leaving
me
to do all the stuff you used to do – cooking dinner, doing the laundry, putting Rosie to bed –”

“You’re right, Violet. None of this has been fair to you. But things are getting better. Now that Dudley –”

“Oh, please! Mom, he is so second-rate. You’re only falling for him because you’re desperate to have a man in your life!”

Mom looked like I’d just punched
her
in the nose.

“I need to get back to work,” she said slowly. “I’m giving the students an exam this afternoon.” She picked up her keys and walked toward the door.

I was thinking that I’d now managed to alienate pretty much every single person I’d ever cared about, when she turned back.

“I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but last night, after you and Rosie went to bed, Dudley asked me to marry him.” She walked out the door.

I stood there, frozen, listening to the Rust Bucket rattle and bang as Mom drove away.

I felt numb. I climbed the stairs and poured myself a scalding hot bath. I forced myself into it, grabbing the latest edition of
Entertainment Weekly
from the stand near the toilet. I was thinking that this wasn’t one of the worst days in my life, it actually was
the
worst day of my life, right up there with the day Dad left, when something in the magazine caught my eye.

Tantamount Studios.
My mind started to race.
Why did it sound so familiar?
Then it hit me: Jennica had said Dad was shooting his new pilot at Tantamount Studios. George Clooney and my dad were working at the same studio.

I leapt out of the tub and called Dad on his cell phone, still dripping wet.

“Dad? It’s Violet. I’m really sorry I fed cat turds to Lola and Lucy. And I really want to come to L.A.”

“C
annonball!” Rosie shouted, before she launched her compact little body into the pool. She wore a brand-new swimsuit, one of those with a built-in flotation device. It was royal blue with dolphins on it, a gift from Wife Number Two when we’d arrived, just a few hours ago. Lucy and Lola were in the shallow end with Jennica, who wore a string bikini that showed off her tanned, curvy figure, and their part-time nanny, Anna Maria. The twins shrieked with delight, and I could tell that Rosie was loving being the cool older sibling for once.

As for me, I sat on a lounge chair in khaki cargo pants and a white T-shirt, blocking my face from the sun with a pair of Jennica’s sunglasses and a floppy straw hat. I clutched one of the books I’d brought with
me,
The Outsiders
by S.E. Hinton. The irony of the title was not lost on me. But I found it hard to concentrate on the story as sweat trickled down my front and pooled at the base of my training bra. The water looked cool, silky, and inviting, but I wasn’t going near it today.

My mom must have told my dad that both of us needed new bathing suits because Jennica had bought me a new one, too. A bikini. With little cups where my boobs were supposed to go. I’d tried it on to be polite, and as I’d gazed at myself in the full-length mirror in the little change house beside the pool, I felt like the most tragic girl on the face of the earth. The bikini bottom sagged around my flat bony butt, and the top hung sadly with nothing to hold it up. I poked one of the cups with my finger, and it created a big concave indentation, which would have been funny if it didn’t make me want to cry.

How could I have thought for a moment that Jean-Paul could be interested in me when he has Ashley falling all over him? Ashley might be a bitch, but she’s a pretty bitch. I, on the other hand, am painfully average. Possibly even below average. I should have stuck to my vow.

I was starting to feel seriously sorry for myself when Jennica walked right into the change room without knocking.

“How does it fit?” she asked, before she had a chance to actually look at me and figure it out for herself. “Oh. No
worries, the shop has a million different styles, and I know at least a dozen more that will look gorgeous on you.” She smiled her trademark smile, showing off two rows of dazzling white teeth. “In the meantime, you can swim in your underwear if you want; it’s just us girls.”

Was she kidding me?
“Thanks, but I’m actually feeling a bit chilled,” I lied.

So here I was, sweltering under the hot sun instead. Rosie was showing the twins her dive, which looked more like a belly flop.

I got up and moved my chair into the shade. I polished off my Diet Coke and put the can beside my lounge chair. Jennica buys Diet Coke by the case, and since Mom doesn’t buy pop except on special occasions, I drank a lot of it here. I belched softly and tried once again to read my book.

It had been just two days since I’d apologized to Dad on the phone, but once I’d done so, things moved really quickly. First, my mom had a long talk with my dad. “She’s suspended. For the rest of the week.” I could hear her through the vent in the bathroom, where I was brushing my teeth. “She punched a girl in the nose.”

I noticed she didn’t bring up the Facebook photos.

There was a long pause while she listened to my dad. “Don’t you
dare
call my parenting skills into
question, Ian, don’t you dare. When is the last time you parented your daughters?”

I couldn’t help it – I grinned. I love it when Mom tears a strip off Dad. It doesn’t happen very often because they rarely speak, but it’s awesome when it does.

“You need to take her off my hands for a while. I can barely cope with her these days.”

My smile disappeared.

A couple of hours later, Mom announced that Jennica had found a last-minute deal for a flight leaving Wednesday morning. Rosie was delighted, especially since it meant she got to miss three days of daycare. We would be staying with them for ten days, our longest visit yet.

Mom and I barely spoke to each other when she drove us to the airport.

“Have a wonderful time,” she said to Rosie as she showered her with kisses outside the security gate. Then she straightened up and looked at me. “Behave yourself,” she said, before quickly kissing my forehead.

“What did you say to Dudley?” I asked.

She pursed her lips. “Nothing. I haven’t answered him yet.”

“Answered him about what?” Rosie piped up.

“Well, just – don’t answer him,” I pleaded. “Not until we’re back.”

She just grabbed us and hugged us. “Good-bye, my girls.”

Then I’d taken Rosie’s hand and the two of us went through the security gate. Three hours later, we’d landed in Los Angeles.

I gave up on my book and put it down beside the lounge chair. I looked around at the pool, the swing set, and the infamous sandbox. A stone fence surrounded the yard, just high enough so that you couldn’t see the neighbors, and some sort of ivy fell from the stones.

Their home was beautiful. And I couldn’t help it, my mind wandered to that place again, the place that fantasized about what our lives would be like if Dad hadn’t met Jennica. We might have all moved down to L.A. and lived in a house with a pool. Mom probably would have insisted on a more modest house, and she wouldn’t have hired a nanny, or decorated in the same way, or had as many clothes in the closet, but still. We’d have a pool instead of a rusted trampoline, and Rosie would have more toys and wouldn’t have to wear my hand-me-downs. Maybe I would have my own room, and Mom would drive a nicer car, and our house wouldn’t be falling apart.

Suddenly one of the twins toddled up to me. I could tell it was Lucy because her swimsuit was green. She hollered, “Up, up!” I pulled her onto my lap and hugged her. She was wet, but it felt good because I was so hot.

She didn’t seem to remember that I was the wicked half sister who’d made her eat poo. Or, if she did remember, she didn’t hold it against me. Pretty soon Lola, in her purple swimsuit, joined us, and I had both of them on my lap. As I held them tight, I realized I was crying. Tears were gushing down my face, hot tears of shame for what I had done to these two little girls, who’d never, ever done anything to hurt me except to be born.

Next thing I knew, Rosie was slapping her way over, a pair of flippers on her feet. She frowned at me through her blue-green goggles, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Girls, make room for Rosie,” I said, wiping away any leftover tears, and Rosie climbed up too. Then Jennica came running over, worried that the chair would collapse, so we piled onto the grass instead. I tickled all three of them and gave them airplane rides, putting my feet on their tummies and lifting them into the air and making airplane noises. Jennica sat close by, and I could tell she didn’t one hundred percent trust me, and I guess I couldn’t blame her.

As I placed my feet into their chubby little tummies, first Lola, then Lucy, I realized that deep in my heart, I loved my half sisters, I loved them more than I thought I ever could. But I would never love them as much as I loved Rosie.

And maybe it was terrible to think that. But Dr. Belinda Boniface once told me that I had to own my thoughts. So I was owning this one, too.

After Anna Maria went home, Jennica ordered some pizzas for dinner, and we ate outside on a picnic blanket. Then Rosie and I called Mom to let her know we’d arrived safely.