Letters from the Heart (12 page)

 

Phew. Maeve took a deep breath. She looked around her bedroom one last time to see if there was anything else she could take over with her to her new room at Dad's apartment. She and Sam weren't staying over tonight—they were just going to have dinner with Dad, and then come back home. Next weekend would be their first time sleeping over at his new place. But Maeve was still nervous. She hadn't seen her dad's place yet. Last weekend Maeve's mother had taken Sam and Maeve downtown for lunch and a trip to Filene's Basement while her dad rented a U-Haul to move over a few big pieces of furniture. Maeve was glad she did. It would have been too sad to see furniture leaving the house. Today they would just head over in the car, with a few odds and ends. Her dad's philodendrons—how was it possible to keep a couple of plants alive since college?—and his collection of LPs, or “vinyls,” as he liked to call them. Her dad was a pack rat, like Maeve. He hated throwing anything out.

“Okay, you two. Let's go check this place out,” her father said, coming upstairs to get Maeve and Sam. The Taurus was packed up, and they were ready to go.

Maeve threw a parting kiss to her guinea pigs. This morning she had renamed them Ben and Jen. “I loved
Alias
,” she explained on I.M. to Katani and Isabel.

“Don't worry, babies. I'm only going to be a few hours,”
she cooed. She scooped each one up for one last snuggle and tickled Jen's tummy.

Guinea pigs, she thought affectionately, are fabulous. Truly a girl's best friend.

“Maeve, come on,” Sam whined. “They can't understand you. They're RODENTS.”

Maeve glared at him, sweeping down the stairs and hurrying outside to the sidewalk, where her father was waiting. What did her brother know? Maeve's guinea pigs were very sensitive creatures, she was sure of it. When she was sad, they drooped. When she was happy, they scampered all over their cage! Today, Dad's moving day, was unquestionably a “Drooping Day.”

So this was it. Her dad was moving out.

The strangest thing was how low-key it felt. Her mom had disappeared on an “errand”—now THAT was clearly planned, Maeve thought. And her dad was acting like they were just driving down the street. Which they were, in a sense, but still…

How do you mark things like this? Maeve thought. How do you manage to make something this important feel big enough, without falling apart?

It was hard getting into the car. Sam started to cry, and her father couldn't look at either of them. Maeve took a deep breath.

The trick really was pretending that everything was okay. Maybe you got through tough moments like this by forcing yourself to believe that somehow they really WEREN'T that tough.

It was like acting—that's all. All she had to do was swallow hard and pretend like she was going on a cool trip.

“Come on,” she said, trying for what sounded like an
upbeat tone. “Dad isn't moving to Mars, Sam. Okay? It's just Washington Square—less than a mile away. And we're going to be over all the time! So much you're going to be sick of us, Dad!” she assured her father, giving his arm a warm squeeze.

Her dad looked as choked up as Sam.

Great. Looked like she was going to have to be the strong one here.

Maeve picked up the duffel bag her father had left on the sidewalk, peering into the back of the car to see if there was any space left. But the bag weighed a ton, and she quickly set it down.

“What do you have in here, Dad? It feels like rocks,” Maeve said, staggering backward under the weight of the bag.

“Um—photographs. Scrapbooks and stuff,” her dad said. “Mostly photographs of you and Sam.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Maeve said. Her voice wobbled and all her acting powers seemed to be getting her nowhere. It almost broke her heart, thinking of her dad going through the photographs…picking out ones to take with him. But when she saw Sam start to sniffle again, she drew herself up as tall as she could and tried again. Once they were in the car, it would be easier, she told herself. Once they were really on their way.

Her father's new apartment was in a brick building with gables on Washington Street. The building was what her father called a mock-Tudor—it looked old-fashioned and a little bit mysterious. Dad's apartment was on the second floor, which Maeve liked. It reminded her of their place over the Movie House.

She was amazed when her father opened up the door. It looked so moved-in! Her father had set up the living room
already—three of his houseplants were even there. It was definitely not huge, but the room had a pretty fireplace and nice high ceilings. At the end of the living room was a kind of nook with a small kitchen in it. Her father said it was called a “galley kitchen,” after the kinds of kitchens used on ships. There wasn't a lot of room, but her dad had set it all up so neatly—pots, pans, glasses, plates—that Maeve thought it looked almost cozy.

“Not bad, Dad,” Sam said admiringly.

Maeve was pretty impressed, too. Her father had even set the table in the kitchen. He'd knocked himself out, getting things ready for them. She felt a lump forming in her throat, but she fought back tears. It was just…well, it was so touching to see what he'd done to make them feel comfortable here. He'd even brought over some of Sam's video games, and Maeve saw the latest issue of
People
magazine on the coffee table.

“Daddy, this is nice,” Maeve said.

It helped having seen the living room first. Next came her father's bedroom. It was small, but had a nice view of the garden below. Maeve noticed that there were pictures of her and Sammy everywhere. It looked like her dad had put those out first thing!

“And now—” her father said, throwing open the door to the room across the hallway. “TA-DAH!” Maeve had to laugh. He sounded just like her. The whole performance thing was definitely “in the genes,” as her mother would say. That and making things happy and nice for other people.

She turned to look in the room…then gulped. This was going to take some courage. The room was cute, but no kidding—it was SMALL. Avery's Closet Number One was probably bigger than this. Her dad had set up bunk beds on
one wall, which made Sam go into whoops of ecstasy. Not that there was much choice, there wasn't room to fit two beds in side by side. Maeve had to summon up every single ounce of acting skill she had. Think of Sara Crewe in
The Little Princess
, she told herself. Think of Audrey Hepburn in
Sabrina
, before she goes to Paris. Think of Drew Barrymore in
Ever After
. Think of every noble, suffering, I-have-to-live-in-a-garret-but-I'm-still-a-princess movie that you can.

Of course, most garrets only come with rats…not with an eight-year-old brother.

“Daddy, this ROCKS!” Sam yelled, hurling himself up the ladder and onto the top bunk.

Maeve took a deep breath. “Sam,” she said, as calmly as she could, “you and I are going to talk LATER about how we're going to divide the room.” She dragged in her pink beanbag chair, which filled one entire corner. “The pink side is going to be MINE.”

Her father shook his head with a rueful smile. “I know it's a small room. Will you two be okay in here?”

Something about the tone in his voice made Maeve forget all about how small the room was and how on EARTH she was going to deal with sharing a bedroom with the Military Maniac. Her dad looked so woebegone and so worried all of a sudden that all she cared about was making him feel better.

Maeve flung her arms around her father, forgetting all about the bunk beds and her brother and the unbearable question of which was worse, having Sam on the top bunk snoring over her head or on the bottom bunk where he could kick her mattress and send her flying. “Dad, it's fine. It's sweet,” Maeve assured him.

“I think it's the coolest,” Sam announced. “I'm gonna put my posters ALL OVER. And I'm—”

“Sam,” Maeve said calmly, hoping to defer this conversation until later, “I think we better go help Dad with dinner.”

This was NOT the time to squash her younger brother. Not on their first night here. And thank heavens, they didn't have to spend the night here. Not yet. Maeve would have all week to Sam-proof herself before she had to endure THAT.

Dinner was actually nice. Her father had made their all-time favorite—American Chop Suey. It was macaroni, ground beef, tomato sauce…and totally delicious. It felt funny sitting at the small table in the kitchen and eating there, just the three of them, but not funny as in BAD—just new. They talked about a bunch of stuff. Maeve's award ceremony. Things coming up at school. The baseball play-offs. Dinner seemed to fly by, but as soon as they were finished eating, an awkward silence descended.

Maeve wondered if Sam was thinking the same thing she was. What now?

Dad's TV wasn't set up yet. Neither was his stereo. The living room was feeling quieter and quieter. Maeve's eye flew to the new issue of
People
magazine on the coffee table. If she were at home, she'd be running off to her room to I.M. her friends or to read that enticing magazine. But here at Dad's she felt more like she was VISITING. You couldn't just go off and read a magazine when you were (sort of) a guest, could you?

But what else were the three of them supposed to do?

All of a sudden, Maeve remembered Avery's tip.

“Anyone want to play cards?” she asked, taking the cards out of the pocket of her jacket. Thank you, Avery Madden, she thought. YOU WERE SO RIGHT.

“Poker!” Sam shrieked, looking like he'd just won the lottery.

Maeve wanted to play Spit, so they flipped for it, and she won. Before she knew it, the three of them were sitting on the living room floor, hands flying, laughing their heads off. Maeve even forgot about acting brave. The truth was, she was having a good time. Okay, the bedroom situation was a little less than perfect. But she liked her dad's new place. It obviously had good karma—Maeve won every single game.

J
OINT
C
USTODY

“So how was it?” Avery asked, in her usual blunt manner. “What's your dad's new place like?”

It was Monday at lunch, and the girls were catching up on the weekend.

Mostly, though, they wanted to know how Maeve was doing. How the move had gone, and how she was feeling about it all.

“I can't lie—my bedroom over there is the size of your closet, Avery. AND I have to share it with Junior Military Man,” Maeve said, dipping a carrot stick into some hummus. “But Dad's made it look nice. And once I figure out what goes where, it may be okay.” She shrugged. “It's just weird, that's all. With my mom working part-time and my dad not there…well, there's all this STUFF to do.”

“What do you mean?” Isabel asked.

Maeve's cheeks turned pink. “I know this is going to sound awful,” she confessed, “but I'm not used to doing stuff like laundry and helping with dinner. Mom's always done all of that.”

Isabel nodded sympathetically. “Since my mom's been taking this medicine, she has ZERO energy. And Elena Maria claims she has too much homework. So guess who ends up doing all the dishes? ME!”

Maeve was surprised to discover that her friends all shared her pain when it came to household chores. Charlotte and her dad took turns cooking dinner. Katani said she had to help with laundry. “With four girls, you wouldn't believe how much there is to do,” she told Maeve. “Of course Patrice has to wash something if it so much as TOUCHES her body.” She grimaced. “And since I'm the designated neat freak, everyone always wants me to fold their stuff. I have these tricks so you don't even need to iron.”

“Well, I'm drafting Sam to help,” Maeve announced. “There's no reason he can't fold laundry. Even if he IS the messiest kid on the planet.” She giggled. “I'll just tell him it's like folding up war maps. Then he'll love it!”

The conversation turned serious for a moment. “Are you doing okay, Maeve?” Isabel asked, her dark eyes concerned.

Maeve nodded. “You know,” she said slowly, “I've been so stressed out about Dad moving out. And now that it's happened…I mean, it's sad and everything…but I kind of feel like the worst is over. You know what I mean?”

“Still, it's probably good to keep busy,” Charlotte said thoughtfully. “Why don't we all plan a sleepover at my house on Friday night? We haven't done that in ages!”

Everyone was excited about this. Katani said she could come, and so could Isabel and Avery. “A Tower party!” everyone cried.

“I can't,” Maeve said with a sigh. “I'm supposed to go over to my dad's. But you guys go ahead,” she insisted, though the other girls suggested they wait for another time. “No, really, go ahead,” Maeve said, despite her friends' protests. “I'll call from my dad's. And you guys can give me moral support over the phone. Come on, you guys, I'm FINE.” Avery, Katani, Charlotte, and Isabel gave each other uncertain looks.

“You may think you're more fine than you really are,” Avery announced. “Some days you're okay. Other days you think you will be sad forever. But my mother says ‘time heals almost everything.' And she's right. So just don't ask too much of yourself, okay?”