Of course Soula agreed. Mommers signed the check over to the minimart and we got our cash. But I wondered how long it’d be before there would be more problems. As it was, she only came home with half the stuff on my grocery list.
Still, it was a good thing we had some food in the house because when the weekend came, Grandio stopped by. Mommers would have screamed him off the front step if she’d been home, but she wasn’t.
“Dwight asked me to check in,” Grandio said in that gravelly voice of his. He pushed his way inside. “He’d be here himself if the truck was running. The babies have fevers and he didn’t wanna leave Hannah without a car. Everything okay?” He glanced around.
“Brynna and Katie are sick?”
“Just the flu. Phone working?” He lifted the receiver and put it to his ear.
“Yep. Things are great.” I smiled but he didn’t look at me.
“Well, what’s the deal with the answering machine? Dwight says he’s leaving messages but you and your mother don’t call back.” He looked at me sternly. I shrugged, held my breath. Grandio looked in the fridge, opened a cupboard and poked a few of the cans and boxes with his thick finger. “Well, you need anything, girl?”
“No sir,” I said.
“All right, then. I’ll call Dwight and let him know everything is all right.”
“Thanks for stopping, Grandio.” I watched him get back into his car. He gunned it too hard and spun out on the icy snow patches. I put on my coat and went out to give him a push. (I’d pushed Mommers out that same morning.) Grandio waved me off.
“I got it, I got it! Go back inside!”
“If you say so,” I mumbled, and I did what he said. I listened at the door as he rocked the car and spun the wheels. I sighed. Dwight always said Grandio just liked doing things for himself. Mommers said he was a controlling old poop. I guess they were both right. I listened to his tires singing for another minute. Then he was gone. I heard myself breathe.
“Gone for now,” I told Piccolo. “But you and me, pal, we’re on notice.” I knew Dwight would send Grandio by again if he didn’t just show up himself.
O
n Valentine’s Day, I walked out of school with Helena and found Dwight out front. He was leaning on the truck. He grinned when he saw me and stood up.
“Shoot,” I muttered. “That’s my stepfather.” I had not told Helena much about my family situation—just that I had decided not to spend time up in Lake George anymore.
“Oh, I guess he came to you this time,” Helena said.
“Guess so,” I answered.
“Do you want me to stay while you talk to him?” she offered. That creeped me out a little—like somehow I’d given her the idea that Dwight was some kind of dangerous weirdo that I shouldn’t be alone with.
“No,” I said. “It’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Helena walked away down Nott and I watched her go for a second before I went to Dwight.
“Hey!” he called.
“Hi,” I said.
He pulled a pair of rumpled, construction paper valentines out from under the flap of his jacket. “A pair of cupids sent me,” he said. “These are from the Littles.”
I didn’t answer.
“Oh, and I got you something.” He took an entire roll of lunch tickets from his pocket and handed them to me.
“What did you do? Go inside the school to buy these?”
“Yeah,” he said. “And I talked to your principal for a minute.”
“Why? Everything is fine.” I wrinkled my nose. It seemed funny to think of him being involved in my school stuff now, even though there was a time when he’d been a part of every parent-teacher conference.
“I just wondered if they had any concerns.”
“Did they? I mean I’m sure Mommers would know if they did.”
“No. They’re crazy about you. Far as they can tell me anyway,” he said. He paused, drummed his fingers on the side of the truck. “Of course, they wouldn’t discuss much since …well, you know. Anyway, did you want to tell me about the flute?”
I shifted my feet. “You couldn’t have done anything about it.” I shrugged. “I just wanted to take care of it. It’s over with. I’m glad.”
He nodded; he didn’t seem surprised to hear me say that. “What if we take a walk? One block over to Union Street. Got time?”
I sighed a big complaining sigh. “I guess so.”
On the way Dwight held out a little plastic card. “This is a bank card. I want to show you how to use it in case you ever need money,” he said.
“I won’t ever need it,” I said. But he pressed the card at me anyway.
“Twelve, six, three,” he said. “It’s easy to remember: Your age, then Brynna’s, then Katie’s.” I almost laughed because it seemed as if he’d forgotten that we’d eventually get older. We walked up to the money machine at the Union Street Bank. Using the card was pretty easy; the machine told me what to do. “I keep a couple of hundred dollars in this account,” he explained. “But it’s probably safest if you just take twenty or forty at a time, okay? And never use the machine at night. Daylight only. It’s safer.”
“Okay,” I said. “But I won’t need it.” He ignored me.
“This is the hardest part,” he said. He drew his hand across his chin. “I need to do something wrong to do something right. Can you understand that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“I’m asking you to keep the card a secret. Don’t tell Mommers and absolutely do not give her the code. This is for you, and it’s for emergencies.”
“Fine,” I said.
“Good.” Dwight smiled. “So how about an ice cream sundae while we get caught up a little?”
I shook my head no. I set my jaw so it wouldn’t quiver.
Go home, Dwight.
“You’ve got a school vacation week coming up. Think the buses are running? Think Mommers will let you come up? I’ll even come get you.” I didn’t answer. I toed a chunk of ice that had frozen to the sidewalk.
“Okay, Addie. What’s going on here? Why don’t you want to come up?” he said. I kicked harder and the ice broke loose and went sliding away like a hockey puck.
“It isn’t
not wanting to
,” I said.
“Well, then what? I don’t get it. Wasn’t Christmas good? Did I miss something?” Talk about missing something. I missed them so badly I could hardly stand it.
“No. Nobody did anything wrong,” I said. I took a deep breath and the cool air burned inside my chest. “I just can’t keep going up there and do all this …this
good-timey
stuff. It’s not for real. You’re right. Christmas
seemed
good. It did.”
He thought for a moment. I avoided eye contact.
“But then it was over and coming home felt bad?” he asked.
I couldn’t answer.
“Brynna and Katie keep asking for you. They need to see you. And I think you need to see them, too.”
“I can just talk to them on the phone,” I said.
“No. Not enough,” he said flatly. “We’re your family.”
“Depends on how you look at it,” I said, know ing I sounded snotty. Dwight grabbed my coat at the shoulders and tried to get his face right in my face.
“Hey! What’s this all about?” he whispered. His eyes pinked up and I looked away.
“Nothing,” I choked. “I just can’t …pretend stuff anymore.” I shook my head. “I’m too old to pretend stuff. I’m not …I’m not …
resilient
, Dwight. I’m really not.”
“Oh, Addie.” Dwight let go of my coat and reached to hug me, but I backed up fast and shook my head harder.
“No, don’t!” I squeaked.
“Okay, okay,” he whispered.
There was a long silence between us. Well, not true silence—the city kept happening around us. People passed us. The traffic moved up Union Street. I pulled terrible, skipping breaths into my chest and I wondered if anyone noticed us standing there. Did they wonder why a man and a girl would seem to be having a disagreement right on the street? Dwight covered his mouth with his hand, drew his fingers along his chin and kept sighing through his nose.
“Don’t you have to get back?” I finally said. “Don’t forget, it’s Valentine’s Day.”
He nodded slowly. “I guess so. But, Addie, we’re not done with this.”
“Well, I think we are. We have to be,” I mumbled. I turned and headed down Union. Dwight followed behind me. When we got to the truck he gave me a ride to the trailer. He didn’t come inside—thank goodness—just went around back to check on the electrical hookup. I followed him as much to keep him out of the trailer as anything. He said it was good to keep the snow cleared around the connection. I said I’d tell Mommers. Then I said good-bye to him. No hug. That was awful. But it was the right thing to do now.
Inside the trailer, I slipped Dwight’s bank card into one pocket of my electric blue duffel bag. I rolled the duffel up small as I could and stuffed it into the back of my closet.
“Perfect, huh, Piccolo? Two things I won’t be using so they might as well be in the same place.” I thought about how Dwight had given me the lunch tickets, how he’d come all the way down to Schenectady to make sure I was all right. I thought about how mean I’d been. I looked at Pic again and said, “But I
had
to be mean.”
I flopped on my back in my bunk. I put my feet up in the air and stretched my toes up till they reached the ceiling. In my mind I kept seeing the inn, my little sisters on the snowy hill, Hannah throwing her braid back as she stood in the doorway and Dwight strapping on his tool belt for work in the morning. I saw a table spread for dinner— “
Their
table. Not mine,” I said. I pushed back tears. “Okay, now, I am not going to become some weenie-headed crybaby over this.” I gently drummed on Pic’s cage with my finger. “Ya get it, Pic?” I wiped my nose on my sleeve. “Besides, we’ll be fine. We have a home and Mommers always makes it back before the food runs out.”
I went into the kitchen and did another cupboard check even though I already knew exactly what was there. I called it out loud for Piccolo. “One box of mac and cheese, one brownie mix, one bag of goldfish crackers. One empty Cheerios box.” (I’d kept it in there just for show.) I moved on to the cans. “Two tomato soups, one chicken noodle.” I opened the refrigerator. “One stick of butter, one can diet soda, one jar pickles. And now for the Hamster Pantry.” I turned and went to my closet. “Half a bag of seed and an almost full box of alfalfa blend. Well, Pic, given the size of me and the size of you, if food is wealth, you’re the queen today,” I said. “But if Grandio comes back, we’re both in trouble.” I remembered how he had poked at the boxes of food with his finger.
“That empty Cheerios box is a problem.” I said, hopping off the bunk. I took the box down, and after rummaging around the trailer, finally stuffed it with a rolled-up magazine. The magazine filled the box and made it look full of cereal again. That gave me another idea. I checked the paper trash. I found two flattened mac and cheese boxes and put them back together with a glue stick from Mommers’ office supplies. Then I filled the boxes full of plastic pushpins that she had never even opened. I shook the boxes.
“Hey, hey, hey, Piccolo! How do you like that? Sounds like real macaronis to me!” I shook again and danced a little cha-cha. I suddenly felt better than I had all day. I pulled the rumpled valentines from my sisters out of my jacket pocket. I smoothed them out and just stared at them for a minute. They were sweet, good decorations so I taped them to the paper shade I’d given to Mommers for Christmas. Then I cut a chain of hearts from an old newspaper and hung those up, too.
I heated a can of tomato soup for my Valentine’s supper and floated a little pat of butter on the top of it for good looks and richer taste. (Elliot taught me that.) I poured a little bit of Piccolo’s seed right onto my bedcover. I let her come out and sit next to me. I sipped my soup and Piccolo filled her cheeks until her face looked like a puffy valentine heart.
A
ll my worrying about the February vacation snag was for nothing. Mommers happened to be home the night Dwight called and she flat out refused to let him have me. Of course, she did that just to rip Dwight but I was relieved that there wasn’t a fight over it. I wondered if that meant that Dwight wouldn’t ask again. I ignored the goosh in my gut. Mommers and I put away the groceries together. I counted meals as we worked.
One jar of applesauce goes with two cans of
baked beans and makes four meals. One loaf of
bread is eighteen slices including the heels—
“Hey! You must be mooching off your friends at the chubby-mart.” Mommers elbowed me and giggled. “There’s still a lot of macaronis in here.” She shook the box.
“Not really,” I said. “They’re fakes. I just did it to make the cupboards look full. In case Grandio comes by again.”
“Jack? Jack was here? Inside? He’s got
no
business coming through
my
place!” Mommers insisted. “You can tell him no. You know that?”
“Mommers, it was Grandio, not some ax murderer.”
“What did he want with us anyway?” Mommers asked.
“Well, Dwight sent him because he was worried about us.”
“Yeah, right. Dwight’s so worried he put us in this dump in the first place. If he’s got a guilty conscience, it’s because he deserves one!” Mommers simmered on and on. Finally, she sat down with a diet soda and lit a cigarette.
“Isn’t that bad for your baby?” I asked.
“What? The baby
you
don’t think I should be having?”
I shrugged. She took a puff.
“I’m gonna quit. I’m just …nervous right now.”
“Are you staying?” I asked.
“I’m here tonight,” she said. “Can you make something for dinner? My feet are killing me.” She thunked one foot then the other up onto a chair and sighed cigarette smoke out her nose. “I forgot how much being pregnant takes it outta me.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll get dinner.”
S
oula had been having energy problems. Her skin seemed kind of yellowy to me. She kept trying to powder up her face, but the yellow always showed through. I wondered if she’d ever had that last chemo treatment.
We had started to eat together most nights. When Soula let me cook for her, I felt good—like I was repaying some of her kindness. It turned out that she
liked
toast dinners. She said they reminded her of the food she had eaten as a kid.