The Grown Ups (4 page)

On the afternoon
before her brothers came home Suzie added more than the takeout salads to the grocery cart. Sarah had still not said whether she would sign the papers, and Suzie was trying her best to figure out how to ask again. Getting groceries couldn't hurt. It would be one less thing for her mother to do before she left for New Hampshire.

She was standing before the boxes of macaroni and cheese thinking about all of this when someone tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped and turned around. One of the lifeguards from the pool was grinning and trying to reach around her. Their bodies were so close she smelled the suntan lotion wafting off his skin and the heat through his T-shirt. He had been the boldest of the lifeguards throughout the summer: offering lotion, commenting on her reading material, reminding her to hydrate, keeping count of her laps. She looked forward to his quips, although she tried hard not to show it.

She pushed the cart with her hip and moved aside. He laughed
and picked two boxes off the shelf and held them out to her. “How many?”

“Oh.” Suzie bit her lip, embarrassed all of a sudden for the two of them to be out of context. She liked that he saw her at the pool, not buying mac and cheese at the grocery store. “Uh, four?”

“You're pretty hungry, huh?”

“My brothers,” Suzie explained as he dropped the boxes in her cart.

He grabbed two more off the shelf and shook them at her. “Well. These are all for me. I'm starving and broke, so mac and cheese it is.”

Suzie smiled and started to roll away, but he put out a hand to stop her. “Hey, where you going?”

“I have to get home.”

He nodded slowly and gave her a funny little frown. “You never came to any of the parties we invited you to. Tonight's your last chance. We all go back to college this weekend.”

“What about the pool?”

He laughed. “Not my problem, but I think they got it covered. Or kids drown.”

Suzie laughed. “Well, the JCC pool is pretty crowded, so they could stand to lose a few . . .” He laughed with her and Suzie felt a little thrill in her gut.

“Smart and funny.” He grinned again and leaned on the cart. “How many books did you read this summer anyway?”

Suzie felt her cheeks get hot.

“Come on, you have to come out tonight.” He paused and smiled. “You know where 2424 Merrywood Lane is?”

Suzie nodded. The address was in a development a few streets over from her own. She knew from driving her brothers around
that the houses were large and similar to hers in newness, but closer together on smaller, less wooded lots.

After he got a maybe out of her, he moved aside so Suzie could continue shopping. She pushed past him, randomly taking things off the shelves, acting as if she knew all along what it was she was looking for.

It was true
that Suzie felt a little less sorry for her mother the second time around. It was hard to muster sympathy for someone who knew exactly what it was she was willingly getting back into. If Sarah Epstein couldn't remember what it felt like to be called names, to have her screen door punched in, to have the police called, she should have asked Suzie. All Suzie knew was that if she ever trusted another human being enough to become his wife, she would never choose someone like her father, and certainly not twice.

As she pulled into the driveway she vowed to try hard not to get in an argument with her mother tonight. She thought about how they were more than this one moment, this one lousy dinner of takeout salads on the patio at dusk on a summer night in a place that was as random as any on the map. She hated how this place now had become more than geography, how it held the weight of starting over, and the stink of disappointment.

Sarah was at the table on the patio when Suzie walked in. She put the perishables away, left everything else on the kitchen counter, and carried their salads outside. Her mother had a map spread out on the table before her and was diligently writing down directions on the back of an envelope. She waved a hand away when Suzie tried to set the salad down. “I'm not hungry.”

Suzie fought the urge to drop the salad on the patio. Instead she made room next to Sarah's elbow on the small table and set
about opening her salad and digging in. She wasn't even that hungry herself. But she would eat even if she threw up. She wouldn't sulk like her mother.

After a few minutes of silence Suzie said, “Do you want me to do that for you?” She pointed to the map with her fork. A piece of spinach was caught in the tines.

“I'm good,” Sarah answered quickly. “How was your day?” She didn't look up, although she had stopped writing.

“Fine. Good.”

“Did you play today?”

“I hate tennis, Mom.”

Finally, Sarah looked up.

“But I won every match.”

“Why do you play if you hate it?”

“Why do people do anything they hate?”

“I'm not sure, Suzie.”

“Neither am I.” Suzie felt the prick of tears at the back of her throat and swallowed hard, refusing to allow herself any weakness.

“Listen.” Sarah leaned forward across the small table, smoothing the paper beneath her palm. “I don't think it's a good idea for you to try to finish high school early.”

“What?” Suzie said it quietly, although in her mind she slammed her fists down on the tabletop and sent their salads flying. “Why?”

“Because later on you are going to regret that you gave up this time. That you tried to rush your life. It's going to come at you sooner than you think. Why not give yourself time to get used to the idea of being an adult?”

“Why are you doing this to me? What do I ever ask you for?”

“Suzie—please, be reasonable. You are not ready to go out there yet.”

“Out there? You mean the big, bad world? Are you serious, Mom? Are you serious with that crap about being an adult? How would you know?”

“What?”

“How would you know what it's like to be an adult?”

“Suzie!”

“From everything I've seen, every stupid decision you've made has been decidedly un-adult. Moving us here? Getting back together with Dad? Do you even think he's in Asia or alone? Do you really convince yourself that he is working every single night?”

“Suzie!”

Suzie looked at her mother. Sarah's face was white, her lips tight and tinged with blue. “Stop,” she cried. “Please.”

“Mom—”

“Where is this coming from?” Sarah put her palms up to her face. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“I was there,” Suzie said, unable to stop herself even though she knew she should. “Is this the kind of husband you hope I'll find? Is this what you want for me? Do you want me to hang around here for another couple of years so I really know how to do everything just like you?”

Her mother's shoulders shook; her face was still hidden in her hands. She said something, but Suzie couldn't make out what it was.

“I don't want any of this, Mom. I didn't ask for any of this. If you don't give me permission I will find another way.” Suzie took a deep breath. “Because the last thing I want to be is you.”

Later, Suzie found the house and the lifeguard easily enough. The house belonged to a girl she had noticed all summer at the pool, always the center of a large group. She was friendly, filling Suzie in on where she went to school (Tufts), where her parents were (a cruise to Alaska), and where the bar was (the kitchen island) before she disappeared out a set of sliding glass doors.

The lifeguard's name was Trent, although in Suzie's head it was better if she thought of him as simply “the lifeguard.” He made her a vodka and lemonade and they walked outside to the far back corner of the yard, past the pool, past people twisted together on lounge chairs, past tightly huddled groups passing joints and laughing. He wanted to talk, to get to know her better. She told him she was about to start her senior year. He asked about colleges and a major and she found herself saying Harvard and premed even though she really didn't have a clue. She found out he was at BU, a sophomore. He was studying environmental science, a major he offered shyly. He said that Suzie was probably way smarter than he was, and she said no, even though she thought differently. When he stopped walking and gestured to the ground Suzie sunk down into the grass and looked back at the house. They were far enough away that they wouldn't be noticed and yet close enough that she could hear music and smell the weed. She finished her drink, aware that he was watching her. She nestled the empty cup into a fist of ivy, then turned to him and smiled.

“You are really pretty,” he said as he reached out to tug on a corkscrew of hair by her chin.

“So are you,” Suzie shot back. She leaned closer, the vodka doing an excellent job of warming her belly and making her less afraid.

“So why did you never come to any parties before tonight?”

“'Cause I didn't want to.”

“So why tonight?”

“'Cause I wanted to.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Suzie.”

“Trent.” She smiled. “What are you waiting for?”

He leaned into her, holding his drink between them. His lips were cold but soft. They kissed slowly, like they would have all summer. When Suzie pulled back he brought his drink to his mouth and finished it off. She watched his throat move as he swallowed, and she wanted to trace it with her finger down to the hollow. When he was done drinking he reached across her and put his cup into hers, dragging a hand against her bare legs as he did so. His fingers grazed the inside of her knee and she jumped.

He immediately began to apologize, but he kept his hand there, his fingers stroking up toward her thigh. She was surprised how every part of her body seemed to be at attention. She closed her eyes and leaned back on her elbows and he covered the upper part of her body with his. She shifted beneath him, encouraging him to get closer, and though his mouth was hard on hers he still seemed hesitant. She pressed the palm of her hand against his lower back, and a sound escaped from deep in her throat as their lower bodies met. It was then that he said “Let's go,” and he helped her up off the grass and kept her hand in his as they walked back toward the house. Even though the lights were dimmed, Suzie blinked hard as they walked against a tide of people. She ducked her head against Trent's shoulder, her chin bumping up against his shirt, which smelled fresh like detergent, as he led her through the rooms and up the stairs, and she was all too aware that he had done this before and that he knew exactly where to go.

Afterward, Trent tried
to walk her home, but Suzie put him off with the idea of an angry father pacing before the windows because she had missed her curfew. She cut through backyards, imagining herself a stealth midnight hurdler as she jumped shrubs and sprinkler heads until she reached her own. She got into her dark house through the broken latch on the sliding glass door. That tight, headachy feeling had returned and she wanted nothing more than to take a bath and crawl into her bed. But when she went into the bathroom, instead of running the water she got into the tub fully clothed and rested her cheek against the cool porcelain. She needed to talk to Bella. Without thinking about the time, she grabbed the phone and brought it back into the tub. She dialed Bella's number as if they had last spoken only yesterday and not a year ago.

Bella's mother answered on the second ring, as if she were waiting for a call. And then Suzie remembered that some of the medicine Mrs. Spade took made it difficult to ever truly sleep. Her insomnia had made sleepovers tricky as the girls had gotten older, especially whenever she and Bella had tried to sneak out in the middle of the night.

Suzie pressed the phone hard against the side of her face, as if Bella's mother were in the room. “Mrs. Spade,” she whispered, “it's Suzie.”

“Suzie? Suzie Epstein?”

Suzie nodded, grateful that Mrs. Spade had remembered her. The fuzziness of the dead air between them made her realize that she needed to speak into the receiver. “Yes, yes. I'm sorry; I know it's late. And it's been a long time.”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Spade said. “Sometimes you just need to talk when you need to talk. Bella's not here, though, I'm afraid.” She paused. “They are all out enjoying the last nights of summer.”

“
Oh.” Suzie felt an irrational rush of sadness at being left out of whatever her friends were doing.

“I'm sorry, sweetie. Is everything okay?”

Suzie closed her eyes. She knew what Mrs. Spade meant when she asked if Suzie was okay. Everyone had known; it would have been impossible not to know about Suzie's family. She heard a clacking sound and remembered the individual cellophane-wrapped mints that Mrs. Spade kept in her pockets to ward against dry mouth, a side effect of a medication. How could she have forgotten so many details only to remember them all at once?