Doreen (9 page)

“There's ribs in the fridge from last night. You can heat those up before you go. Or you can order a pizza if you want.” Linda Vale poured herself a cold cup of coffee from the morning's pot and stood by the ancient microwave while it heated. Since the death of Mr. Hopper two years earlier, Simon noticed that his mother always seemed like she was running late for something—whether she had something to do or not.

“You're not going to stick around?” Simon asked.

“I think you're old enough to heat up your own leftovers.” The microwave dinged and his mother popped open the door and fetched her favorite pink mug. She leaned against the counter as she sipped her old, sour black coffee. Watching her, Simon felt a sympathetic pang in his own stomach.

“Not for me, for Jane. You're not even going to say good-bye? She'll be gone for a long time.”

“I know that, Simon. You don't have to tell me that.” She was in her going-out makeup and a shabby red dress that she tried to spruce up with jewelry she bought from TV in the middle of the night when she stayed up brushing the dog. She insisted that the coffee had nothing to do with her sleeplessness. “You don't have to tell me what's going on with my own daughter.” She wiped under her eye with a long nail and looked out the window.

Simon used to think his mother was pretty. She had a long neck, deep-brown eyes, and dark skin that always looked tan. He watched her check her reflection in the glass of one of the kitchen cabinets. Maybe she was just getting old and tired, or her clothes were getting old and tired. But having seen Doreen, the whole world seemed duller and uglier in comparison.

“What are you grinning about, huh? Seems to me you been grinning a lot lately. You can't wait for Jane to get out to Bolivia, can you? Get herself killed out there, that's what's happening. Drug dealers run around out there like it's a free-for-all, you know.” Simon's mother crossed her arms over her chest like a petulant child.

“Mom, she's going to the Peace Corps, okay? It's not like she's joining the circus. Can you stop trying to make this about you?”

“Excuse me if I find it difficult to understand why your sister needs to run down to a country a million miles away to help a bunch of strangers, when her own family needs her right here! I know that working in a hardware store isn't the sexiest job in the world. Believe me, I had different plans myself!”

“I know you did, Mom,” Simon said softly, trying to be reassuring.
He wondered what Doreen would think of the house.
She would love it, of course, for being his. She would love his mother, too. She would see Linda Vale for the kind, well-intentioned woman she was. Simon was sure that Doreen could see the whole world as if they were looking through the same set of eyes.

“I was an actress, you know. And a good one. That's why your father even noticed me. He came and saw me do Juliet at the O'Neill. He found me after the show.” It was hard to imagine his mother as a young ingénue, and equally hard to imagine his father—who was polite and distant and seemed to do everything according to some choreography he thought it his duty to carry out—as a man so moved by a performance that he sought out his mother, wooed her, married her. Like Doreen in her red coat the first time they met. Her face, when she saw him, was like a person found.

“I know, Mom. You don't have to tell me that.”

“I'm just saying that I know everything that hardware isn't.” She sighed and placed her coffee cup on the counter, next to the many-ringed reminders of coffee cups past. “But it's everything we have right now. It's irresponsible.”

“You know I can hear you. But I don't care.” Jane came down the stairs looking scrubbed and ready, her dark hair brushed back into a ponytail with a little band around her head to keep the strays back. In her khaki pants and boots and a fleece pullover, Simon's sister looked prepared for an adventure. He admired her bravery.

Jane kissed their mother on the cheek, but Linda remained in her sulking position against the counter.

“I'll miss you, Mommy. You know I will. But this is something I have to do right now. For myself. I know that's probably hard for you to understand.”

“Don't treat me like an idiot, Jane Vale. I'm
your
mother, don't forget,” Linda growled. “I understand precisely what it's like to want to do something for yourself. What I don't understand, young lady, is choosing to do those things when the family needs you. That's not how I've lived my own life, and I guess I'm just a little disappointed that I didn't raise you to think the same way.”

Jane's smile descended. “I'm sorry, Mom. I just—look, if you really need me here I won't go, okay? I thought—”

“You didn't think. Not about your brother and me.”

“You're right. I guess I didn't. I thought I did, but I didn't. I'm sorry.” She looked down at her hiking boots, appearing to be near tears. Her mother's expression softened.

“Hey, it's okay. Baby, it's all right. You're young, you should go out in the world. Never mind me, Janie. I'm just going to miss you, that's all.” Simon watched them embrace, the two women in his life who, until recently, were his entire world. He was sorry that Jane would be going before she could meet Doreen. He was sure they would love each other.

A horn sounded in the driveway. “That's my ride!” Simon's mother managed through her tears. “You know I hate good-byes, my favorite girl. Be careful. Okay? You promise?”

“I promise. And I'll e-mail all the time. We can Skype!”

“Just call me on the phone. How about that? Call collect, okay? We'll manage. Good-bye, my darling girl,” said their mother, leaving a hand on Jane's cheek. After one final hug she grabbed her purse and coat and raced out in her heels to the awaiting car.

Simon and Jane watched their mother from the kitchen window.

“Which one is that?” Jane asked. “The guy from bowling?”

“I think he's the one from church. But I don't know. Wait! No, look, it's what's her name—”

“Fat Beth.” Their mother's friend waved from the driver's side of her Caprice.

“Bye, Janie!” Beth called out, her fingers flapping through the open driver's-side window. “Have fun in Mexico!”

Their mother gave a final wave over the car before getting in. Jane waved back and watched the car drive away.

“She's bad at good-byes,” Simon said.

“I know. It's okay. Anyway, it gives us a little time, little brother. So.”

“So. All packed?”

“Yep.” Jane flashed a wicked grin and stared hard at Simon. “I'm on to you, you know.”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? I'm on to you. I just thought you should know that.” She jutted out her chin with know-it-all satisfaction.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Jane wagged her finger at him. “Please, you can't fool me. Just because I'm getting ready to get out of here doesn't mean I haven't noticed the way you've been floating around this house with a goofy grin on your face.”

“I have not,” Simon protested, but just hearing the effect that Doreen had on his disposition, he could feel his mouth widen into an unwanted smile.

“There! That's the one! That's the grin I'm talking about. Now 'fess, little brother, or I'll beat it out of you.”

“Uh, I'm a little bigger than you now, Jane. I don't know if you've noticed.”

“You may be bigger, but you're probably still . . . ticklish!” Jane attacked Simon with the secret knowledge that can only come from growing up with someone—tickling him mercilessly, for maximum impact. Simon flew off his chair and landed hard on the linoleum floor. He swung his body, kicking and begging her to stop. “Never! Not until I know the truth!” Jane screamed.

“Mercy! Mercy! I'll tell you anything. Anything! What do you want to know?”

Jane stood up, her tiny hands still clawed and ready to attack. “Who is she, Simon?”

“Who is who?”

Jane raised her arms as if threatening to pounce again.

“Okay, okay. Her name is Doreen Gray,” Simon said, the warmth of the name filling his body.

Seeing the change come over her brother, Jane lowered her arms. “A girl from school?”

“Yes. Well, not from my school. From Chandler.”

“Chandler Academy?”

Simon hopped onto his feet. “Janie, you have no idea. I've wanted to tell you about her, but I guess I wanted to keep her to myself, just for a minute. I never met anyone like her in my life. She's beautiful—so incredibly beautiful, but that's not it. That's not all there is to her. See, I met her after the homecoming game.” And Simon proceeded to tell his sister everything. About how he saw her standing in the parking lot and then she disappeared like a ghost. He told her how he picked up some disgusting old glove and ran after her—just for an excuse to talk to her, to stay in contact. He told her about their walk, about the way they talked, about this feeling of
inevitability
about it all.

“Janie, I don't know. It just feels like everything's different now. I feel hopeful. Really hopeful in a way I haven't in a long time. She said she was going to try to get me into Chandler. A football scholarship to help me get into a better college. But I really don't care about that anymore. I know I should. I am sorta the man around here, even if I am the youngest. And with you heading down to Bolivia for two years, Mom's gonna need me to really step up and take charge. But ever since I met Doreen, she's all I can think about. Everything else—school, the store, even football—seems like a distraction from what really matters.”

“And what matters, then?” Though Simon was too wrapped up in the affairs of his own heart to notice, Jane was worried about him. She had never seen her brother so unguarded. He always had a firm grasp on the practical aspects of life. But now, just as she was leaving, doing something for herself for the first time in her life, some little harlot had come around and derailed him from his path. “This girl is all that matters to you now? Do I have that right? You're going to throw it all away for this girl?”

Simon wrinkled his nose. “Don't say it like that, Jane. Don't say ‘this girl' like she's someone I picked up at the movie theater. Her name's Doreen, okay? And she's . . . she's . . . she's magnificent! Can't you be happy for me? Come on, Jane, I thought you'd understand. You're the one who's always telling me that I can't let other people rule my life, that I have to do something for myself. Isn't that what you say? ‘Don't let Mom tell you what to do all the time, Simon.' Right? Well, I found something for me—someone for me. And I'm happy! This is what it is to be happy, Jane! Oh, I should have known you wouldn't understand.” Simon huffed out of the kitchen and threw himself on the couch in the family room. Jane followed close behind.

“Now, don't pout. I was just asking. Of course, I don't mean to begrudge you this . . . whatever . . .”

“Love. We're in love.”

“Both of you? Has she expressed the same feelings?”

“God! Yes, Jane. For crying out loud, I'm not seven anymore. I know how the world works. She loves me. A lot. More than anyone has ever loved me. Doreen Gray is in love with me and I with her. We found each other. We're lucky. That's why you've seen me floating around this ugly house. Because for the first time in my life I feel so, so lucky.”

Jane sat down beside Simon on the small space left on the couch. She looked at her brother, so strong and beautiful, even with that ugly scowl on his face. Of course, any girl would fall for him, how could they resist? It was his goodness that always struck her, and the ease with which he coasted through life. No matter how tough it got, he knew the right thing to do and he always did it. Their deadbeat father, crazy mother, the loss of Mr. Hopper, none of that had taken away Simon Vale's inner goodness. And now he was big and grown and handsome, too. Doreen Gray, whoever she was, didn't stand a chance.

“Don't be mad, rhymin' Simon. I didn't mean her any disrespect. I'm only looking out for you.”

“You can cut that out now, okay, Janie? I'm grown-up. And you're leaving, so if I couldn't take care of myself before it's about time that I learned.”

“You're right, you're right. I'm sorry.” This was not how she wanted to leave things with Simon. She would miss him the most of everyone. “And really, I'm happy for you. Truly, I am.”

Simon sat up on his elbows. “You are? Really?”

Jane smiled. Out in the world she did this rarely—most people thought of her as humorless, cold. Because she was small and cute, she had to fight to be taken seriously. But for Simon she could smile all day long. “Of course I am. If you're happy, I'm happy. And I trust you. If you say the girl's magnificent, I have no reason to doubt that she is.”