It's Not the End of the World (5 page)

Eileen Fenster, who is a girl in my class, says Brian Mansfield likes me. She knows because she spends every afternoon calling up boys. She asks them questions such as "Who do you like in our class?" or "What do you think of Debbie?" or something like that.

Debbie and I went over to Eileen's a few times.

She knows all the boys' phone numbers by heart. The last time I was there she called up Gary Owens and I listened on the upstairs phone. She said, "Hi Gary. This is Eileen. Listen, Gary . . . what do you think of Karen?"

And Gary said, "Karen who?"

Imagine him saying that! How many Karens does he know anyway?

So Eileen said, "Karen Newman."

And Gary said, "Oh, her."

"Well? "Eileen said.

And then Gary hung up! Why did he go and do that? I'm never going to Eileen's house again.

Aunt Ruth came over tonight. She was full of advice for my mother because tomorrow is Mom's first meeting with Mr. Hague, her lawyer.

We were sitting around the kitchen table. Aunt Ruth and Mom were drinking coffee and I was eating a banana. I only like bananas when they are pure yellow, without a spot of brown. That's why I hardly ever eat them.

Aunt Ruth said, "What are you going to wear tomorrow?"

And Mom said, "I don't know. What difference does it make?"

Aunt Ruth said, "You want to make a good impression, don't you? And remember, Ellie, you've

got to tell him everything, no matter how hard it is for you."

"I know," my mother said. "Dan told me the same thing."

"I wish you'd try to eat a little more, Ellie. You don't look well."

"Oh, Ruth. . ."Mom said.

"I don't want to interfere, Ellie ... I just wish you'd take better care of yourself."

Aunt Ruth is right. Suppose my mother gets sick? Then who'll take care of us?

Nobody said anything for a minute. Then Aunt Ruth asked Mom, "Do you remember Henry Farnum?"

"I think so," Mom said. "Is he the accountant?"

"That's the one," Aunt Ruth said. "From West Orange. Dan and I ran into him the other day. You know his wife died last year ..."

"No, I didn't know that," Mom said.

"Yes . . . he's been very lonely. He's got a beautiful house and nobody in it. His children are both away at college."

"He ought to move to an apartment," Mom said.

I got up and threw my banana skin away.

"I'd like you to meet him, Ellie."

"Oh, please, Ruth. . . don't start in on that."

I sat back down at the table. Start in on what?

"Look, Ellie . . . that's the wrong attitude to take.

Here I know a really nice man. He's lonely. So what's wrong with going out to dinner with him? I'm not saying you've got to marry him."

"Ruth, please! I'm not even divorced yet. I don't want to think about getting married again."

"Okay. Fine. But a year from now when Henry Farnum is married to somebody else, don't come crying to me. And don't tell me you think Bill is sitting home alone every night!"

"Ruth. . . not in front of Karen. . . please."

Aunt Ruth looked at me. Does she know something? Why doesn't she just stay home and mind her own business! I hope my mother never goes out with Mr. Henry Farnum or any other man!

On Friday there was no school because of some special teachers' meeting. Debbie and I decided to go ice-skating. There is a pond in the middle of town, next to the library. When the blue circle is up it means the pond is frozen and safe to skate on.

Debbie's mother called for me and drove us downtown. I felt funny because Mrs. Bartell knows about my parents. I was scared that she would ask me something and I wouldn't know what to tell her. But she didn't mention one word about the divorce. She talked about keeping warm instead. And how she wanted Debbie to wear a few pairs of underpants instead of just one. "That's the best way to get a kidney infection," Mrs. Bartell said, "sitting on that cold ice and getting a chill."

"I promise I won't sit on the ice," Debbie said.

I think Mrs. Bartell spends a lot of time worrying about diseases. She dropped us off right in front of the library and we walked down the path to the pond. There was already a bunch of kids there. I saw Eileen Fenster right away. She waved.

I love to ice-skate. I learned by myself when I was nine. That year I got my first shoe skates for Christmas. Debbie is always joking about her ice-skating lessons. She says it took her one whole year just to learn to stand up on the ice.

We were already wearing our skates, so all we had to do was to take the covers off the blades and skate away. I don't think Debbie was on the pond for two minutes before she fell down. I pulled her up. She started to laugh. "Three years of lessons and I still stink!" she said. Then I started to laugh too. Eileen Fenster skated over to see what was so funny and pretty soon we were all standing there laughing. I had forgotten how good it feels to laugh. From now on I am going to concentrate on laughing at least once a day-even more if I can arrange it.

After an hour I could see why Mrs. Bartell wanted Debbie to wear lots of underpants. She wound up sitting on the ice more than she was standing on it! I skated out to the middle of the pond to practice my

figure eights. When I turned around to look for Deb-bie I saw her standing on the grass talking to Eileen. I waved and called, "Hey, Debbie . . ." but she didn't notice. What were they talking about that was so important? Were they telling secrets? Was Eileen saying something bad about me? I skated across to them and said, "What's up?"

As soon as they saw me they stopped talking. Eileen said, "Oh, nothing. Me and Debbie were just saying it's fun to have a day off from school."

I knew that wasn't the truth. I could tell from their faces.

After Eileen went home I asked Debbie, "What were you talking about before?"

"Nothing," Debbie said. "Just forget it."

"I'll bet it was about me."

"Okay. . . so it was."

"About me and Gary Owens. . .right?"

"No. About your parents, if you want to hear the truth."

"My parents?"

"Yes. Eileen just found out they're getting divorced."

"Oh." I took my chapstick out of my pocket and rubbed some along my bottom lip.

"You can't keep it a secret," Debbie said. "Sooner or later everyone is going to know."

"I never said it was a secret."

"Well, anyway . . . that's what we were talking about."

"What did Eileen say?"

"Oh, she was just asking me if your mother has a lot of money, that's all."

"Money? What's money got to do with it?"

"I don't know exactly. But Eileen heard her mother say that she hopes your mother has a good lawyer and plenty of money."

"I think Mrs. Fenster should mind her own business," I said.

"Well, so do I! Come on, now . . . just forget about it." Debbie made her chimpanzee face. I tried to laugh.

But I spent the rest of the day thinking about what Eileen had said. My mother has no money that I know of, unless Aunt Ruth and Uncle Dan are going to give her some. It's scary to think about my mother with no money to feed us or buy our clothes or anything. Maybe we will eat at Aunt Ruth's every night. And instead of giving all our outgrown clothes to some poor family someone will give their old clothes to us. I've got to talk to somebody about this. Maybe Jeff can explain things to me.

Trying to get to talk to Jeff is like banging your head against the wall. You just don't get anywhere. I've been tagging along after him for three days now but he says he's very busy and I should get lost. I think Petey Mansfield is a bad influence on him. I would tell that to my mother but suppose she says, "Why are you so anxious to have a private talk with Jeff?" What can I possibly answer without giving everything away?

I have come up with some information, though. From now on my father will be taking us out to dinner every Wednesday night and we will spend Sunday afternoons with him. This is part of something called a separation agreement. Daddy's lawyer's name is Mr. Levinson and he specializes in divorces just like Mr. Hague. Their offices are even in the same building in Newark. I wonder if maybe my mother and father will run into each other there. Divorce is a very complicated thing. I always

thought if you wanted one you just got it. But now I know that sometimes you need special reasons and each state has different rules. Uncle Dan explained this to me the other night. When I got into bed I thought of a million questions I should have asked him, like suppose I am sick on a Wednesday and can't go out to eat. Does that mean I don't get to see Daddy at all? I have got to talk to Jeff. If it takes me a week I am going to corner him. I will station myself outside the bathroom door when he is inside and I will not move until he comes out. There will be no way he can ignore me.

It didn't take me a week. On the second night, I sat down cross-legged right in front of the locked bathroom door. I listened as Jeff brushed his teeth and took a shower. When he opened the door he was really surprised to find me there waiting. He had a towel wrapped around himself and his hair was all wet.

"What are you doing?" he asked me.

"Waiting to talk to you."

"I'm busy," he said.

"I can wait." I wanted to say, "Please talk to me -I need somebody so bad." I felt tears come to my eyes. I think Jeff noticed.

He said, "Okay . . . go up and wait for me in the hideaway. I'll be right there. And here"-he handed me a tissue-"blow your nose."

I took it and ran up the stairs. I opened the door to his hideaway and sat down on his bed to wait. There was a picture of Mary Louise Rumberger tacked up on his bulletin board. She was wearing a bathing suit. She's pretty hefty.

When Jeff came up he was wearing a bathrobe and his hair was still wet but he had' combed it. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Does Mom have any money?" I said.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean does she have any money of her own . . . that's not Daddy's."

"I don't know," Jeff said. "I never thought about it. Why?"

"Because if she doesn't, what do you think is going to happen to us?"

"I think they make some kind of deal when they get divorced. Dad pays a certain amount of money to Mom every month. Something like that."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"He's not going to let us starve, if that's what you're worried about."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't believe me why don't you ask him yourself?"

"That's a very good idea. I think I'll do that. And another thing," I said.

"Go on . . ."

"Well, suppose I get sick and can't go to see him at all?"

"How am I supposed to know about that? You're thinking too much about the divorce."

"Do you mean you never think about it?"

"Well, sure I do. But we'll probably see more of Dad now than we did before."

"I don't care," I said. "It's not the same as having a father living at home where he belongs!" I started to cry again.

"You just better get used to it, Karen," Jeff said in a funny voice: "Because there's nothing you can do about it!"

That's what he thinks! I'm going to get them back together. I told Garfa I'd try, didn't I?

Friday, March 26.

My life is going from bad to worse!

I found out today that Gary Owens is moving to Houston. His father has been transferred there. I wonder if he will start to like me before he moves? Probably not.

I forgot my milk money again. Mrs. Singer wants to know what's wrong with me. I told her nothing. Debbie said her parents bumped into my father at the Chinese restaurant. He was all alone, so the Bartells invited him to join them. Debbie said her mother told her not to tell me this-but my father is very lonely and unhappy. Why did she have to go and tell me?

If one more bad thing happens I just don't know what I am going to do!

My mother went to see Mr. Hague today for the second time. And when she came home she had a new haircut, a new dress and a smile on her face. So right away I thought, she's in love. Because I've been thinking a lot about that lately. Jeff says he is positive that Daddy and Mom are not too old for that stuff. I wonder!

Mom was in her room changing into a sweater and a pair of pants. I sat on her bed. "What's Mr. Hague like?"

"Who?" she asked, from inside her sweater.

This time I waited until her head was all the way through. "Mr. Hague," I said. "What's he like?"

"Oh. . . he's very nice. He's going to take care of everything." She fluffed out her hair.

"Do you want to marry him?"

"Marry who?"

"Mr. Hague."

"For heaven's sake, Karen! I've only seen him twice. And he's already married, with five kids."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw a picture of his family on his desk."

"Oh. Then you're not in love?"

"No, I'm not. And what's all this love business anyway?"

"I don't know," I said. "You seem so happy today."

"Well, I am. It's a relief to know that soon everything will be settled."

"Mom . . ."

"Yes?"

"Will you tell me exactly why you're getting divorced?"

"Oh, Karen! We've been through this before."

"But there has to be a reason."

"There isn't any reason."

"How can there not be a reason? Is it a secret? Is that it? Something I shouldn't know about?"

"No ... no ..."

"Well then . . . what?"

"I mean there isn't just one reason. It's not that simple. There are so many reasons. It's just better this way. That's all."

"Does it have anything to do with your antiques?"

"Of course not. Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Oh, I don't know. Because the store sells modern furniture and you like old things."

Mom laughed a little. "Daddy likes antiques too. It just happens that his business is selling modern furniture."

"Well . . . does it have to do with the way you cook,then?"

"Oh, Karen!"

"Daddy's always saying you should try more recipes."

"But people don't get divorced over those things. You're all mixed up, aren't you? "