The Perfect Comeback of Caroline Jacobs (13 page)

“Chlamydia?”

“Relax,” Polly said. “We learned about it in health.”

Caroline smiled. “All I know is that I'm the same person I was in high school. I know a little more and I've done a little more, but I'm essentially the same person. I didn't suddenly become something different when I became an adult. And part of me is the result of what happened in the cafeteria that day and all those days after. A big part.”

“Is that why you're doing this? You don't want Emily to be a big part of you anymore?”

“I guess that's a good way to explain it,” Caroline said.

“Too bad,” Polly said. “I liked your revenge reason better.”

“Oh, don't worry. There's revenge mixed in there, too.”

Polly smiled. “Good.”

 

 

Wendy was right. Prom queens never did stray far from home. In the case of Emily Kaplan-turned-Labonte (Emily had married her high school sweetheart), she lived about a half mile from the high school. The Labontes lived on Summer Street, in a large colonial set on the top of a flat hill in a new subdivision that hadn't existed when Caroline lived in Blackstone. The house was surrounded by a lawn of uniform green. Not a single brown patch or crabgrass blemish to be found. The mulch in the beds surrounding the house was red, and the shrubs and flowers were meticulously maintained. A wide porch wrapped around the house in one great, big architectural embrace; a harvest wreath hung on the front door. The driveway—long, smooth, and dark—ended at a three-car garage, nearly the size of Caroline's entire home. A Plexiglas basketball hoop adorned the garage, as did a distressed sign in black and gold that read W
AHROONGA.

Caroline brought the car to a stop on the side of the road and turned off the engine.

“What the hell is a Wahroonga?” Polly asked.

“I think it's the name of the house.”

“Who names their house?”

“I guess Emily and Randy do,” Caroline said, finding this fact surprisingly reassuring.

“What a couple of idiots,” Polly said.

Tension crept into every muscle of Caroline's body. She tried to relax, tipping her head left and right to loosen the muscles in her neck. She took several deep breaths, exhaling through her mouth each time. The pressure only grew. She knew she needed to go now before it got any worse.

“Are you okay?” Polly asked. “You're acting like a freak.”

“I'm fine. Time to go.”

“Wait. Just wait a second. Do you know how NASA plans on saving the Earth if an asteroid is ever coming our way?”

“Huh?”

“An asteroid,” Polly repeated. “Like the one that killed the dinosaurs. Do you know how NASA wants to stop it from hitting the planet?”

“Bruce Willis?”

“No. And that movie sucked. It's actually much easier. All they have to do is send a rocket up and park it next to the asteroid. Everything has gravity. Me. You. The killer asteroid. The rocket. If they park the rocket next to the asteroid early enough, it will start to pull the asteroid toward it with its gravity. Only a teeny-tiny amount, but a teeny-tiny amount becomes a whole lot if you have enough time. And a zillion miles to work with.”

“Okay,” Caroline said. “Why the astronomy lesson?”

“That's what Emily did to you. If you're sitting here, starting to think that what she did wasn't a big deal, remember that rocket parked next to the asteroid. Maybe she nudged you off course a tiny bit, but you've been off course ever since. That tiny bit has become a lot. You went way off course because of her.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I don't want you to let her off the hook. I don't want you to forget what she did to you. Bullies always get away with stuff. All the time. But not this time.”

Caroline smiled. “Thanks, hon. Now wait here.”

“What?”

“I need you to stay in the car.”

“You can't be serious,” Polly snapped.

“I am serious. This is as far as you go. I can't have you standing over my shoulder when I knock on that door.”

“No way, I'm going.”

“No you're not,” Caroline said.

“This is bullshit,” Polly said. The anger that Caroline had become accustomed to was back in force. “I didn't come all this way to wait in the car. I'm not a dog.”

“Don't be ridiculous. You know you can't come with me.”

“Why not?”

“Put yourself in my shoes,” Caroline said. “Would you want your teenage daughter standing next to you if you were me? How would that look?”

“I won't say a word. I'll just stand there.”

“Polly.”

“I'll maintain a safe distance. You won't even know I'm there. Think of me like Odysseus tied to that mast. I won't get involved at all. I'll just listen.”

Polly was bargaining. Caroline knew it. Her daughter's anger had been replaced, as quickly as it had arisen, by the grudging realization that her mother was right. She knew it would be a bad idea to tag along, but still, she wanted to be there when Emily opened that door. She wanted to be there when her mother let her high school bully have it.

Caroline loved her for it.

“I know you wouldn't say anything,” Caroline said. “But if I'm going to do what I should've done a long time ago, I need to do it alone.”

“But I came all this way,” Polly said, sounding much younger and a little sad. “It's not fair.”

“I know,” Caroline said. “I don't think I'd be sitting in this driveway if you hadn't come with me. But I have to do this last part on my own. You know that.”

Polly looked away, turning her attention to the house. Angry resignation.

“Wait,” Caroline said. “I can let you listen in.”

“How?”

“Call my phone. I'll answer it and stick it in my pocket. I don't know how much you'll be able to hear, but at least it will be something.”

A marginal smile, one that Caroline knew her daughter was fighting every inch of the way, crept across her face. “Fine,” she said. “But this still totally sucks.”

“I know. Wish me luck.”

Caroline had broken into a sweat by the time she had made her way up the driveway and had reached the house. She considered turning back as she mounted the four stairs that led to the front door. Thank goodness for her cell phone. It was almost as if Polly was with her, sitting in her pocket, forcing her forward.

She reached out to ring the bell, almost unable to believe what she was about to do, when she remembered Polly's suggestion and folded her hand into a clenched fist. She rapped on the door three times. She had made it to the finish line. There was no turning back.

The door opened.

The woman standing before her in a cashmere sweater and jeans was Emily Kaplan. It was the girl who had been Caroline's first best friend, and in that moment, Caroline realized that Emily Kaplan had also been her best best friend. Not since that day in the cafeteria had Caroline had a friend as good as Emily. Not even close.

Her knees nearly buckled with the realization.

“Hello?” Emily said, and yes, it was Emily's voice as well. Emily's voice exactly. So little had changed about the woman. She looked older, of course, but not by much. And come to think of it, not older at all, really. Mature was more accurate. Emily looked like a more mature version of her teenage self, but still young and vital and strong.

“Hello?” Emily said again. Though she was smiling, Caroline could see that it wasn't real. A stranger had knocked on her door and was just staring at her. She was already nervous. “Can I help you?”

Caroline couldn't believe it. She had expected to confront her teenage nemesis, but had found her childhood friend instead.

“Is there something wrong, ma'am?” Emily asked, the smile that was not a smile fading into a look of consternation and fear. Caroline took a deep breath. She was trapped between the desire to run away and the impulse to embrace Emily as fiercely as she could.

“Mom!” Polly called out, sounding both frightened and annoyed. Caroline turned and saw Polly standing at the foot of the porch stairs, glaring up at her.

Caroline glared back, unable to find words even for Polly. Ten seconds had passed since Emily had opened the door, but it felt as if she had been standing in stunned silence for an eternity. For twenty-five years, in fact, which wasn't far from the truth.

“Miss? Maybe you should leave,” Emily said.

Caroline turned back to her.

“I don't mean to be rude,” Emily said. “But … I don't know. Is something wrong? Can I help? Does your mother need help?” Emily said, peeking around Caroline in order to make eye contact with Polly.

“Mom!” Polly said, shouting the word this time.

“Emily,” Caroline said. “Emily, it's me. Caroline. Caroline Waters.”

Recognition washed over Emily's face. “Caroline!” she said, exhaling the word as if she had been waiting an eon to say it. She reached out to embrace Caroline, and Caroline attempted to reciprocate but was unprepared for the speed and force of Emily's grip. Emily took Caroline's attempt at a polite hug and crushed it into her arms and chest as if she were hugging a paper doll. Caroline's well-formed defensive lines had been instantly overrun by Emily's unexpected emotion. She struggled to free one arm and then the other from Emily's embrace, then wrapped her arms around her childhood friend.

She couldn't believe how good it felt to be standing here, hugging a teary-eyed Emily Kaplan for the first time in forever.

“Fuck,” Polly said, still standing at the bottom of the stairs, her voice not quite a whisper. “Fuck, fuck fuck.”

fourteen

“What the hell are we doing in here?” Polly whispered between clenched teeth.

“I don't know,” Caroline whispered back. “What was I supposed to do?” A second ago she was hugging the woman who she had despised for more than half of her life. Now she was sitting on the leather sofa in her living room, waiting for lemonade and cookies.

“Why did you say yes to lemonade?” Polly asked. “Say what you have to say so we can get out of here.”

“It's not that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” Polly said. “Point your finger at her and tell her that she was a bitch and a bully is high school and that you hope she burns in hell. Then leave. It's not that hard.”

Caroline sighed. “I'm not—”

“I hope you like oatmeal-raisin,” Emily said, reentering the room. “It's all I have left.”

“Great,” Caroline said, thankful for the intrusion.

“I just ate,” Polly said. “And Samuel Johnson thought oatmeal was best fed to horses.”

Emily took a seat and slid tall glasses, complete with lemon wedges and sprigs of mint, over to Caroline and Polly. “Too bad for Samuel Johnson, then. More cookies for us.”

Emily had become a woman who garnished lemonade with mint.

“I just can't believe that you're here,” she said. “It's been so long. Have you been back to Blackstone since you left for college?”

“My mother still lives here,” Caroline said. “So yes. But now that we're in Maryland, I don't get back not very often.”

“Mom doesn't like Blackstone,” Polly said.

“That's not true,” Caroline said. “I have some good memories from this place. It's just that I have some not-so-good memories, too. It's not always easy to come back.”

“Of course,” Emily said. “It must be so hard for you.”

“Why did you name your house?” Polly asked.

“Oh, that was my husband's idea. He thinks that giving a house a name is a sign of respect for the work that went into it.”

“What does the name mean?” Polly asked.

“It's an Aboringal dialect. It means ‘where the birds sing.'”

“You speak Aborigine?” Polly asked.

“No,” Emily said. “But Randy spent a semester in Australia and fell in love with the country.”

“You have a lot of birds then?”

“Not really. It's more of a metaphor.”

“A metaphor for what?”

“I don't know,” Emily said. “A place where birds would want to sing.”

“Maybe you should hang out some bird feeders,” Polly said. “So the name would at least make some sense.”

“Polly,”
Caroline said.

“It's okay,” Emily said. “My daughter's the same way. Curious about everything.”

“You have kids?” Caroline asked.

“Yes. Jake and Jane,” Emily said, causing Polly to groan a little too loud. “Jake is twelve, and Jane is fifteen. She'll be home any minute. Jake is in middle school, so he gets home an hour later than Jane, which is nice. It gives us some time alone every afternoon when I'm not stuck at the shop. Girl time. You know?”

“Oh yeah,” Polly said. “Mom and I are practically attached at the hip. Right, Mom?”

They were interrupted by the opening of the front door.

“Mom! I'm home!”

“In the living room,” Emily called. “We have guests.”

Jane Labonte was a tall, lanky girl with long, dark hair and a nose piercing that looked a lot like Polly's. She had a tattoo of an orange sun on her forearm and a black crescent moon on her neck. Her eye makeup was dark and her lips were a deep red. She was at least punk and possibly Goth in Caroline's estimation, except for the fact that she was smiling and had a bounce in her step. Here was a girl who exuded happiness.

“How was school?” Emily asked.

“Great,” Jane said, and then extended her hand to Caroline and Polly. “Hi. I'm Jane.”

“Hi, I'm Caroline. I'm one of your mother's friends from high school. This is Polly.”

Polly didn't move.

“Oh wow!” Jane said. “You knew my mom in high school?”

“I think they were a lot friendlier before high school,” Polly said. “Isn't that right, Mom?”