The Song Reader (11 page)

I
was listening to the radio when Juanita Alvarez called me to help plan a party for Mary Beth. The song was “Sweet Dreams” by the Eurythmics. I can still hear it perfectly; I even remember what verse they were up to when I turned down the volume to answer the phone, but I have no idea what it means that I remember all this. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all.

My sister’s birthday was coming up, and Juanita wanted to have a party at her house, the last Saturday in October. She said she thought Mary Beth needed something special, but she didn’t offer an explanation. I told Juanita I was glad to help, even though I wasn’t really in the mood for a party. My role was pretty simple: to find a baby-sitter for Tommy (I got Denise) and go along with Juanita’s lie about why we were going to her house.

Juanita had told me she was inviting a huge crowd—lots of my sister’s former customers, everyone from the diner—and she wasn’t exaggerating. Her living room was so full, it was impossible to move from one end to the other without knocking into someone’s hand or elbow, threatening a spill of a snack plate or beer. Every waitress from the diner was there except the ones who had to work. At least twenty of Mary Beth’s customers were there, some I hadn’t seen in so long it took me a minute to recognize them.

Over by the couch was Heidi Dickinson, who was engaged now, and told Mary Beth she had forgotten all about that guy Don who was causing her so much trouble when she came for a song reading four years ago. Next to her, eating a piece of sausage, was Carmen Lopez, who’d just gotten promoted at the data processing job she credited Mary Beth with giving her the guts to apply for. Standing in the kitchen doorway, talking to Juanita, were Dotty and Louellen Summerton, who’d come to my sister still grieving about their brother Alvin’s drowning in the Mississippi River thirty years before. From their songs, Mary Beth helped them realize that what they needed was a memorial, since Alvin’s body was never found. They erected a slab on the riverbank and all their friends brought flowers. The next week, they gave Mary Beth a ceramic angel with a golden halo and blue-tipped wings. Dotty was smiling. “We know Alvin’s with the angels now and that’s just that.”

Everywhere I looked it was the same story. Over in the corner, Twyla Kingsly and Peggy Turner, whom I’d seen crying many times at our place, were now laughing and pretending to dance along with the Hank Williams playing on the stereo. Frieda Jones, the woman who thought song lyrics were literal warnings, looked perfectly relaxed even though the song playing was “Your Cheatin’ Heart.” Amy and Ken Miller, who were single and desperately lonely when they each came to my sister, were sitting by the wall on hard back chairs, cooing to their three-month-old baby boy.

This party was like a celebration of Mary Beth’s talent. The perfect birthday gift.

I was glad for my sister, even though I wasn’t having much fun myself. I’d only been here a half hour, and I was already tired of talking to women I barely knew. It was also hard to breathe. Juanita smoked, about half the people there smoked, and the air was so thick my eyes wouldn’t stop watering. After about an hour, I decided to slip outside. It was already dark, I didn’t know anyone else was around when I unfolded a rusting lawn chair and sat down in the front yard. Then I heard voices coming from a truck parked on the street.

“Come on. Dad said you need this.”

“It was a mistake. I’m just not up to talking to anybody.”

“Please, Mom. Please try.”

“I can’t…”

I strained my eyes and saw Holly Kramer sitting in the passenger seat with her arms folded around her knees. And Maniac Mike was leaning against the door frame.

I’d always known Maniac Mike’s last name was Kramer, but I’d never realized he was Holly Kramer’s son.

“Yes, you can. Just go in.”

“But what if—”

“If it doesn’t work out, I’ll take you back home. I promise.”

“I don’t know, Mikey.”

Her voice sounded as weak and unsteady as an old lady’s. I thought back to when she gave us the violet afghan with the silver star and told my sister that she’d saved her life. It felt like a long time, but it was only two summers ago.

They were both silent for a minute; finally she got out of the truck and he shut the door behind her. As they walked up the driveway, she said, “I’m so sorry. You probably had plans for tonight.”

“It’s no big deal,” he said, touching her elbow.

“You’re a sweet boy,” she muttered. “I don’t deserve you.”

They were so close now I could smell Holly’s shampoo. I wanted to just sit there, but I figured if they spotted me first, they’d be horribly embarrassed. I cleared my throat, stood up, and said hello.

She walked over and gave me a hug. “Leeann, look at you. You’re all grown up.”

I smiled. “Mary Beth will be so glad you came.”

“Great,” she said, but her voice was wavering. I glanced at Mike, standing behind her. He nodded at me before he said, “Come on, Mom. Let’s go.”

I followed them in. I only had on my sweater and I was getting cold. Plus, I had to find my sister. I had to tell her something was going on with Holly.

As soon as we got inside, I took a good look at Holly and realized it was even worse than I’d thought. The last time I saw her she was thin, but now the bones in her face and arms were sticking out like twisted paper clips. And her beautiful red hair. It wasn’t just chopped off, it was uneven and ugly as if she’d taken a scissors to it herself.

I pushed my way through the crowd into the kitchen, where I could hear my sister laughing. The birthday cake was about to be cut. It was seven layers tall, like a wedding cake. Mary Beth was laughing about the poster-size card Juanita had stuck next to it that read, “You’re not getting older, you’re getting better at lying about your age.”

When I finally managed to get next to her, I said I needed to talk to her, but she leaned over and whispered, “I have to do this first, honey. Juanita went to a lot of trouble.”

“But Holly Kramer just got here and—”

“She did? Wow.” Mary Beth stood up on her tiptoes, peering into the living room. “Holly,” she yelled. “Come here and have some cake!”

When Holly came into the kitchen, Mary Beth put her arm around her. Holly smiled. I watched them until one of the waitresses from the diner came up and started telling me a long, boring story about problems with her car; then I made an excuse to escape.

The music in the living room had gotten louder and the smoke was even worse than before. Also, I was a little nervous, I was afraid I’d run into Mike. I went back to my lawn chair, thinking I could take the cold again. But as soon as I sat down, I heard him coughing. He was sitting in the grass under the big oak tree, not six feet away.

After I said hi, he grunted what sounded like hi back, and then we both sat quietly for several minutes, staring up at the sky, pretending an intense fascination with the stars.

When he finally spoke, his voice startled me. “You heard everything, didn’t you?”

I turned and saw him looking through the big front window in Juanita’s living room. “No,” I said slowly. “I mean, I heard you and your mom talking, but—”

“She’s just having some problems. She’ll be all right.”

“I’m sure she will.”

He paused for a moment. “My dad thinks your sister is the only person who can help my mom. That’s why he wanted me to bring her here tonight.” He crossed his arms and kicked the ground with the heel of his sneaker. “She’s been to a doctor already. He said she was depressed again.”

I thought back to what Mary Beth had told me about Holly Kramer’s chart. What her father George, the hardware store guy, had done to her. But maybe it was unrelated to whatever was wrong with Holly now.

“She probably can,” I said. “Mary Beth is really good at helping people.”

He stood up and walked in a circle around the tree, tore off a loose branch and slapped it against the ground. “It’s something with music, right? What your sister does?”

“She calls it song reading. She figures out how people feel from the songs they have in their minds.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

I shrugged. “It’s really pretty cool.”

He was standing above me now; I could see his face in the light from the front window. He was in my AP English class this year, but I’d never looked at him very closely before. I realized he looked like Holly. He had the same nice, full mouth, the same odd eyes—more round than oval, with a color almost too pale to call blue—the same little dent in his chin.

“I think I’ll go back in now,” he said. “Get something to drink.” He was almost to the door when he called back. “You want me to bring you something?”

I was so cold my fingers ached. I told him I’d come, too.

The living room had been turned into a dance floor while we were outside. The coffee table was against the wall and the braided rug was rolled up in the corner. A few couples were dancing, but mostly women were dancing in little groups, giggling and talking. I squirmed my way through the crowd into the kitchen, where a handful of people were still eating cake, but Mary Beth and Holly had disappeared.

Juanita was refilling the cooler with beer. I went over and asked her where my sister went.

“She and Holly are back in my bedroom. Just for a while.”

I nodded, and turned around to find Mike, in case he was looking for his mom, but he was right there, at my elbow.

For what felt like forever, Mike and I stood in the kitchen, picking at stale crackers and warm cheese. At some point, Juanita offered me a beer and I took it, hoping it would help me get through this awkward situation. Mike seemed so nervous. Every few minutes he would glance down the hall and ask how much longer I thought it would be.

Whatever was wrong was big, I knew that when Mary Beth and Holly finally emerged and Mary Beth went straight over to Juanita to tell her she and Holly were leaving. Then she whispered something to Juanita and I saw Juanita nod and mouth, “Go.”

Holly was leaning against the wall. Mike went up to talk to her and I went to Mary Beth.

“What’s the deal?” I whispered.

“I can’t talk about it now, honey. I have to be with Holly. You can get a ride home with somebody. Just make sure you’re home by midnight, like we told Denise.”

“Does that mean you won’t be?” I asked, but she’d already turned away.

It was only ten o’clock, but Mike said he was taking off and asked if I wanted him to drop me home. I glanced at Juanita, who was whispering something to Peggy and Barb, then turned to him. “I guess there’s no point in hanging out here.”

When we got in his truck, he asked if I wanted to go to the drive-through at Taco Bell first. I said okay, though I wasn’t particularly hungry. He didn’t say a word then and neither did I. I was afraid to bring up what had just happened with his mom, but I couldn’t think of any other topic since I barely knew him. By the time we pulled into Taco Bell, I was desperate to cut the tension.

“Hey,” I said, and laughed a little. “I’ve always wanted to know something. Is it really true you’re a maniac?”

He turned the steering wheel sharply and pulled in at the end of the line. “You believe everything you hear at River Valley?” He spun around in the seat so he was facing me. His voice was low. “All the rumors and gossip?”

“No. I was only—”

“Because it isn’t true. It’s just stupid kids talking who don’t know anything about me or my family.”

“Okay. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s like everybody thinks if you’re different, you must be strange. Screwed up!”

“But nobody thinks you’re messed up.” I was a little annoyed as I thought about the crowd of kids surrounding him at the basketball party, watching and laughing at his “kitchen chemistry,” whatever that meant. “They think it’s cool.”

He laughed a bitter laugh. “Sure they do.”

We were at the speaker. He ordered a six-pack of tacos; I told him I didn’t want anything but a Coke. After he got the bag of food, he turned left into a parking spot instead of back on the road. He’d already finished off the third taco when he finally spoke again. “You know how that maniac thing got started?”

“No idea.” I was drinking my soda and staring out the window, watching kids walk out of Taco Bell, half hoping I’d see somebody who knew me. It wasn’t a date, true, but I was sitting with a real live guy.

“You’re a sophomore, right?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “This was three years ago. You weren’t at River Valley.” He took a drink of his soda. “My mom was messed up then, too. Not as bad as now, but she acted weird a lot. Sometimes she’d cry in the middle of dinner or at the grocery store or wherever. We never knew why.

“Okay, so one afternoon, Mom came to school to pick me up. She was supposed to drive me to the dentist. She gets out of the truck to look for me and then she just starts crying. Right in front of all the kids who were waiting for their buses. Talk about embarrassing. So I run over there and say calm down, Mom, please, but she couldn’t. I take her hand and get her back to the truck, and then I jump in the truck bed and tell her to drive. And I’m back there doing handstands. She says, ‘Mike, you’ll be killed,’ and I say, ‘No, Mom, I’m fine. Just go.’

“As we pull out of the parking lot, all those kids are cheering ’cause I’m bouncing all over the place, almost slipping out of the truck, but grinning and laughing…And the next day, people were calling me Maniac Mike.” He glanced at me before he unwrapped his fourth taco. “And I laughed at that, too.”