Out of the Blue (5 page)

THE DAY BEFORE NATALIE'S
visit mum was cleaning the bathroom window frame with a Q-Tip when Megan left for Art Experience. When she got home from Art Experience, Mum was vacuuming the kitchen drawers. Megan went upstairs to escape, only to discover that Mum had rearranged the stuff in her room. She arranged everything right back to where it had been.

That evening Mum washed the light fixtures. She was standing at a sink full of suds when Megan walked by.

“What are you doing, Mum?”

“I'm just washing the glass shades. They get all this greasy dust on them up there on the ceiling.”

Megan pulled herself up onto the counter. “Mum, how tall is Natalie?”

Mum turned around smiling. “Oh, she's just exactly the same height I am. We stood back to back and there was not a smidge of difference. She's slimmer, though.”

Megan slid off the counter. This was hopeless. What had gotten into Mum? The question about Natalie's height had been sarcastic. How tall is Natalie, like, is she going to walk into the house and see the tops of the light fixtures? Get it? Not only did Mum not get it, but she gave that sick oh,-good,-Megan-is-taking-an-interest-in-Natalie smile. The voice in Megan's head took off. Who cares how slim Natalie is? Tell me about something interesting, like the life cycle of a newt.

She noticed Mum's “To File” folder on the kitchen counter. Oh yes, important to get all the filing done before Natalie arrived. She suddenly remembered the tall-ships brochure and flipped through the file. It was still there. She pulled it out.

“Hey, Mum, what's this?”

“What?” Mum turned from the sink and glanced at the brochure. “Oh, some program to send inner-city kids on a sailing expedition. I think I sent them a donation. Why?”

“Nothing.” Megan tossed the paper back into the file. That was the end of that story.

Megan wandered back to her room. This whole thing was turning Mum strange. All week she had been either polishing doorknobs or discussing the menu for dinner. In the middle of a normal conversation she would suddenly say, “Which do you think is better with chicken — rice or mashed potatoes?” Not a word about her religious studies term paper or her psychology midterm. Megan thought about what would happen if she started to ignore her homework.

It would be good to get this dinner over with. Surely they wouldn't have to keep seeing this Natalie over and over again. She would, Megan hoped, come and enjoy the rice (or mashed potatoes), be impressed by how clean the cutlery drawer was, tour the house with Betsy (big thrill), and then leave. And then they could get back to normal.

On Sunday, dinner preparations were complete by one o'clock in the afternoon. Natalie was due to arrive at six. Open-heart surgery could have been performed in any room of the house, they were so clean. The table was set. There was a bowl of deluxe mixed nuts on the coffee table, with the phone book balanced on top to keep Bumper from discovering them. The parts of the salad were in plastic bags in the refrigerator. There was a tape in the tape deck. Mum was wearing a dress. Betsy was wearing her Brownie uniform. The only thing left for Mum to do was change her mind.

“Do you think this necklace is too dressy?”

“I wonder if we need another cooked vegetable?”

“I sure hope Jim remembers to bring home club soda. Maybe I should go down to the corner and get some, just in case.”

Megan had to escape. She took her bike down to the library to check out the videos. On a wet Sunday afternoon the only videos left were ones that are good for you. But even Safety in the Home looked interesting when the alternative was Mum. She was in the basement learning about smoke alarms when the doorbell rang. Six on the dot. Suddenly her heart began to pound. What was going on? Dinner with a stranger, that's all it was. She gave Bumper a vigorous scratch around the ears and then headed firmly upstairs.

By the time she got to the front hall, it was already packed: Mum, Dad, and Betsy all crowded around. There was hugging, more crying on Mum's part, Natalie's dripping umbrella to be taken care of, her coat to be hung up. After being introduced Megan climbed halfway up the stairs to be out of the way. She stared. Natalie was wearing a short skirt and one of those square jackets with big shoulders. Her legs were skinny all the way up. She had short, smooth, dark brown hair and a wide mouth. She didn't look like Mum. Maybe it was a mistake.

Natalie was just leaning over to take off her boots when Bumper came bouncing up from downstairs. He had been in all day because of the rain and he was even more excited than usual to have a visitor. He joined the mob in the hall, and before anyone could grab him he jumped up on Natalie. She turned white and made a little strangled noise in her throat. And then she kicked Bumper. Megan froze on the stairs. Nobody else had seen the kick. They had been too close.

“Off, Bumper,” said Dad in his dog-training voice that never worked. “Come on, boy.” He grabbed Bumper by the collar. “Sorry about that,” he said to Natalie.

“It's okay,” said Natalie in a tight voice. “I should have mentioned it. I'm just . . . Well, I don't take to dogs.”

“No, no,” said Mum, “I should have mentioned that we have one. Megan, would you take Bumper to the basement?”

Megan dragged Bumper off, through the kitchen and toward the basement door. She held him tight at the top of the stairs. “She kicked you. I hate her.”

She went down to the basement and threw Bumper his slimy tennis ball a couple of times.

“Megan!” Mum called her from upstairs.

Megan trudged back up. In the living room Betsy was sitting close to Natalie on the couch. “Did you have to have stitches?”

One of Betsy's life goals was to have stitches.

“Yes, and a rabies shot,” said Natalie.

“Natalie's telling us about the time she was bitten by a German shepherd,” said Mum. “It has made her nervous of dogs.”

Megan stared at Natalie and said nothing. It doesn't give her the right to kick them.

There was a silence and Natalie jumped in. “I see you're a Brownie, Betsy. I was a Brownie, too.”

“You were?” Mum pounced on the remark like Bumper jumping on his rawhide bone. “Where did you meet?”

“Saint Jude's Church Hall.”

“Then did you go on to Guides?” Mum asked hungrily.

“Yes,” said Natalie, “the whole thing. Pathfinders, even Rangers. Are you a Pathfinder, Megan?”

“No. I don't like groups with uniforms. Too much like the army.”

Mum gave Megan the look. But Natalie just laughed. “I know what you mean. My falling-out with Rangers happened when they wouldn't let me go on the peace march wearing my uniform. Too political, they said. So I quit in protest. But I did like it, especially for the friends.”

“I guess that was really important for you, being an only child,” said Mum.

“And the badges,” said Betsy. “Did you get badges?”

“Some,” said Natalie. “Mummy probably has them somewhere. She keeps everything, Popsicle-stick art, all that stuff.”

Mummy? What kind of grown-up still calls their Mum “Mummy”? thought Megan.

Betsy tapped Natalie on the knee. “Hey! Do you know —” She began to sing:

“We are guides, all guides,
And in unexpected places,
You will meet our friendly faces,
And a helping hand besides. . . .”

Natalie joined in,

“And there's not much danger,
Of finding you're a stranger,
For Brownie, Guide, or Ranger,
We are guides, all guides.”

Megan reached out and grabbed a huge handful of deluxe nuts. Mum wouldn't notice. She was hypnotized, hypnotized by the dog kicker.

Over dinner Natalie told them about a lecture on asteroids that she had attended the day before.

“You go to school on Saturdays?” asked Betsy.

“Not usually, but there was a visiting geophysicist giving a special lecture that I didn't want to miss. Asteroids aren't my field, but they are fascinating. This fellow has a theory that it was an asteroid whacking into the earth that caused the big land mass to break up into continents. Of course the geophysics mafia are resisting the theory like mad.”

“What's a theory?” said Betsy.

“Sort of like a story about what might have happened.”

“But is it true?”

“When it's proved, it's true. But until then it's a theory.”

“How big are these asteroids?” asked Mum.

“Huge. The continent smasher one was probably about six miles across.”

“What would happen if one landed on you?” said Betsy.

“Oh, you don't need to worry about that,” said Natalie. “The chances are extremely rare. This all happened about two hundred fifty million years ago. Most of the bodies that enter the earth's atmosphere just burn up; that's what shooting stars are.”

“But what would happen if one
did
land on you?” persisted Betsy.

“You would be well and truly squashed,” said Natalie.

“Death by asteroid squashing,” said Dad with relish. “That would be a good tragic end.”

Natalie looked a bit surprised. Mum laughed. “I should explain, in case you think we're a family of weirdos. Jim and the girls are very fond of stories in which someone comes to an unusual end. It doesn't turn my crank, but they seem to love it.”

“What kind of things?” asked Natalie.

“Oh, kidnapping by aliens, going through a car wash in a convertible and being vibra-shined, being recycled, that sort of thing,” said Dad.

“Megan does a wonderful ‘Sucked by a Leech,'” said Mum. “Come on, Megan.”

No way. Megan shook her head. “I don't remember it.”

There was a little pause. Megan didn't look at Mum.

“I think I do,” said Dad.

“I'd love to hear it,” said Natalie.

“Okay. Little Hortense, poor little Hortense, such a good child she was. She was kind to helpless animals and guppies. Never a cross word passed her lips. One day she was wading in the river, gathering watercress to make a nourishing soup for the poor, when she was attacked by leeches. Poor little Hortense, she was never a sturdy child to begin with, having given all her meals to stray dogs and birds, so before help could arrive, she was sucked dry, absolutely dry, like a beach ball before you blow it up.”

Natalie was giggling. She caught on right away. “So, this asteroid, who does it squish?”

“Kevin,” said Betsy. Her victims were always called Kevin.

“I thought Kevin was killed by a computer virus,” said Dad.

“That was a different Kevin.”

Natalie laid down her knife and fork. “So this Kevin is squashed by an asteroid, as flat as a pancake.”

“Flatter,” said Dad. “He is so thin he disappears if you turn him sideways.”

“Two-dimensional,” said Natalie, “no depth of character.”

“Talks entirely in cliches,” said Mum, “like ‘today is the first day of the rest of your life.'”

Megan thought of Mr. Jessup, her soccer coach. “A team is only as strong as its weakest member.” But she wasn't going to say it. How dare Dad tell Natalie the leech story? That was their story, not something to give away to strangers.

“What does 2-D Kevin think about art?” said Dad.

“He doesn't know much about it, but he knows what he likes,” said Natalie. “Here's one—when 2-D Kevin loves something what does he do with it?”

“He lets it go,” chorused Mum and Dad.

“Hang on,” said Dad. “What does 2-D Kevin think about Christmas?”

Betsy had been following this conversation like someone at a tennis match, watching the ball move back and forth across the net in a long rally. She pounded on the table. “He thinks that it's really fun and he gets lots of presents!”

All the grown-ups laughed. Megan rolled her eyes. Betsy was so dumb. “That's not a cliche, Betsy. You don't get it at all.”

Betsy's face began to crumple. Mum gave Megan the look again. I'm going to get it later, thought Megan, but not in front of a guest. A reckless feeling overtook her, as though she were wearing armor. Now that she had blown it twice, it wasn't going to get any worse. From now on she could say anything she wanted.

Then Natalie reached over and covered Betsy's hand with her own. “That's exactly what I think about Christmas.”

How obvious could you get? Megan took a big bite of salad and chewed loudly. Sucking up to everybody. Well, I'm not taken in. Talk about 2-D Kevin — what about a 2-D sister? A dog-abusing 2-D half sister?

AFTER DINNER MUM DID
an unheard-of thing and left the dirty dishes on the table. Usually she was whipping them out from under you while you were still swallowing dessert. “Let's go into the living room for coffee, shall we?”

Natalie made some noises about helping with the dishes, but Mum said, “Oh, no, the dishwasher will do them.” As though the dishwasher cleared the dishes and scraped and loaded itself, thought Megan. Natalie must know that as well as anyone. Lying again. Or was that a “convention,” too? She tried to catch her co-dishwasher's eye, but Betsy was off on cloud nine somewhere.

There was more chat, during which Megan concentrated on eating as many after-dinner mints as possible. She looked at people's mouths talking and let her mind wander, until a change in Natalie's tone of voice caught her attention.

Natalie set down her coffee cup and sat up straighter. “So, I have a favor to ask you two girls. For my wedding in July—well, it's not going to be a big elaborate event, Franklin and I don't want that — but I would like . . . but I was wondering if you would be my flower girl and bridesmaid.”

“Flower girl! Me?” Betsy flung herself backward onto the couch cushions. “Miranda was a flower girl and she got to wear lace gloves and nylons. Would I get to?”

“We'll see,” said Mum.

Usually “we'll see” drove Betsy nuts, but instead she threw her arms around Natalie. “I've wanted to be a flower girl all my life.”

Natalie smiled over Betsy's head. It was funny. Betsy had only heard about flower girls a few months before. Megan could have shared Natalie's look. But she didn't.

“How about you, Megan?” said Natalie.

“No, thank you. I would rather not.” Megan smiled pleasantly at Natalie. She saw an abrupt movement from Mum out of the corner of her eye.

A shadow crossed Natalie's face, but she recovered. “I can understand that. It might be more fun for you at the wedding if you didn't have to be on show. Sometimes when I think of it, I wish I could come as a guest, too. But if you want to think about it a bit, Megan, that's fine, too.”

“No, I've made up my mind. But thanks for asking me.” Megan kept her voice bright and perky.

“How come you don't want to, Megan? It'll be fun.” Betsy grinned.

“I would just prefer not to.”

“Silly,” said Betsy happily. “Do I get to wear a long dress?”

“If you like,” said Natalie

“Good. My feet would show even if I had a long dress, so I think I really should wear nylons. Do I get to?”

Megan glanced over at Natalie. How was Natalie going to handle this? Natalie didn't know how stubborn Betsy could be, or how she could lose it in a second. Natalie was looking at Mum in a “help me” sort of way. She raised her eyebrows and wrinkled up one corner of her mouth.

In that instant there was Mum, looking out of Natalie's face. That was just what Mum did, that pretzel mouth. That was the way she looked at Dad. Megan's armor fell off her with a clunk. It was true. Natalie was really Mum's
daughter
. Nothing would change that. It was like hearing the secret for the first time. She had known it in her head. Now she knew it in her stomach.

Natalie left soon after. Mum and Dad and Betsy seemed to want to stay in the living room and do an instant replay of the whole evening. Megan wandered away and let Bumper out of the basement. Then she began to clear up the dishes.

“Megan!” Mum called out to her. “You can be excused from that tonight.”

“No, it's okay.”

One more person sure made a lot more dishes. It was somehow important that they all fit in the dishwasher. Megan changed the places of large and small plates and managed to fit in two more cups.

Betsy came in and sat on the kitchen stool.

“Betsy!” Dad's voice floated in from the living room. “Are you on your way to brush your teeth?”

“Yes,” said Betsy, sitting tight. She fed a little bit of chicken to Bumper. “I think Natalie's nice, don't you?”

“What's nice about her?”

“She smells nice.”

“That's just because she wears perfume.”

“Do you think Mum would let me wear perfume?”

“No chance.” Megan reversed the order of the bowls. “Betsy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How come you're not more surprised?”

“About what?”

“About
Natalie
. About all of a sudden finding out that Mum has a grown-up child.”

“Well, Granny does.”

“Granny does what?”

“Granny has a grown-up child. That's Dad.”

Megan threw a handful of cutlery into the cutlery container. It made a good loud crash. “Betsy! That's different. Oh, forget it, dumbball, you're hopeless.”

“
I'm not a dumbball
.” Betsy spit out each word like a bullet. Her voice began to rise. “You're not allowed to call me a dumbball.”

“So tell.”

Betsy sat on the stool looking as if she would explode. She would never ever tattle.

Dad came into the kitchen and pretended to get mad when he saw Betsy. “What! Not in bed?” he roared, and came at Betsy as though to scoop her up. Betsy burst into tears and Dad stopped dead in his tracks. “Honey, what's the matter?”

“She's just overexcited,” said Megan, not turning around from the dishes.

“
I am not overexcited
.” Betsy sure had a big voice for her size.

“Okay, okay,” said Dad. “Come on, let's get ready for bed and see what Mr. Holmes is doing tonight.” Betsy allowed herself to be led away, sobbing and hiccuping.

Megan tried to pour chicken grease from the roasting pan into a soup can without spilling. The door opened and Mum came in. She took the pan out of Megan's hands.

“Thanks for helping to clean up,” said Mum.

“Hmmm,” said Megan. It was escape, not helpfulness. She ran the dishcloth across the counter. Mum was probably about to bawl her out for being rude, or else she was going to ignore that and talk about Natalie. Either way Megan knew she wouldn't be able to stand it. If Mum said one word about Natalie, just one word, Megan knew she was going to do something very bad. Hurling the soup can of grease across the kitchen would feel really good.

“So . . .” said Mum.

Megan's hand edged toward the can.

“Ears healing up okay?”

What? “Um, yeah, they're fine.”

“I must say, your earrings look great. It makes me half think — well, no, about one-sixteenth think — that I might take the plunge.” Mum turned on the taps in the sink full blast. Steam and bubbles started to rise. “Maybe if I start thinking about it now, I might be ready in five years and I can go with Betsy.”

Megan picked up a tea towel, but Mum took it out of her hands. “Leave this mess now. I'll finish up. You look beat.”

Megan went downstairs and threw the tennis ball for Bumper. The mad part of her was still there. And now there was nowhere for it to go. Nowhere. Happily ever after. What a laugh. Mum must be unhappy about the bridesmaid thing. Wasn't she going to say anything? Was she just going to lie by silence again? The voice of Megan the fair interrupted. “But you didn't want her to say anything.” Megan the mad threw the ball harder and harder. “Oh, shut up.”

If there were some small but precise asteroids that could fall out of the sky and wipe out the events of the past two weeks, this would be the perfect moment.