Three Sisters (21 page)

Their grandmother called, again. “Years ago, women didn’t go away and leave their families for days on end. It’s all this liberated nonsense.”

“Grandma, you ran a business.”

“I never neglected and deserted my family.”

“Mom and Dad are coming back on Tuesday, Grandma.”

“I admire your loyalty, Karen. You come by that quality honestly from your father. He laughs and smiles, but I know life is a disappointment to him.”

“It is?”

“I’m coming over to cook for you,” she said.

“You’re going to drive, Grandma?”

“I’m perfectly capable, Karen. The Austin needs an outing, anyway.”

She arrived about an hour later, looked pityingly at Karen for a moment, then began cooking as if they were starving Ethiopians. She wore a long, green, linen apron over her dress. Karen was appointed her chief assistant; at her grandmother’s direction she cut, peeled, scraped, and fetched. Her grandmother made enough food for weeks, for months, possibly for years. A large pot of stuffed cabbage, dozens of coconut cookies, two apple strudels, a noodle pudding with cheese and raisins, and a chocolate cake whose aroma filled the house for hours.

After her grandmother left, the house was silent. Li/ and Karen were in the house, but it was silent. Karen walked restlessly down the stairs, up the stairs, down the stairs, up the stairs. Go out, she told herself. Mow the lawn. If you’re going to stay in, wash the dishes. Study for the exams. Call Marisa. Do something. Tobi used to keep gerbils; they would tread their wheels endlessly, squeaking and treading and getting nowhere. Up and down the stairs Karen went, a human gerbil.

The phone rang. “Karen—it’s me, Tobi. Come

get me.”

“What’s the matter? Where are you?”

“Tell Liz to come get me. I’m in a phone booth

without my shoes.”

Thirty-six.

Liz jammed on the brakes. Usually she was tolerant and kind behind the wheel. Now she hunched, muttering curses at the slowness and stupidity of other drivers. To the rescue of Tobi. And what about Karen? Didn’t she need rescuing, too? This silence between them was filling her lungs, drowning her.

“Tobi said the corner of Weaver and—”

“Weaver and Gracey,” Karen said.

“A telephone booth? Are you sure you heard right?”

“Yes. And no shoes.”

“What else did she say?”

“I told you everything, Liz. She said to come get her.”

“Did she sound all right; I mean, like it was funny she had no shoes, or -?”

“No. She sounded upset.”

Karen leaned back against the seat. So they were talking again—sort of, but only because of Tobi.

What happened after they got Tobi? Would the silence fall again? Maybe Liz would only talk to her in emergencies. A broken leg would be worth a line or two. A heart attack would give her a paragraph’s worth of conversation. If somebody died, Liz might talk to her for fifteen minutes.

“I saw Scott the other day. He asked me to talk to you.”

“You, of all people—”

“Right. That’s what I said. Do you think you’ll make up with him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe you should.”

Liz glanced at her briefly. “Advice?”

“No!” Karen flushed.

There was a long silence, then Liz said, “I’ll just have to wait and see what happens. I trusted Scott.”

“He said—he asked me to tell you it was just something that happens to a man sometimes.” She hated saying it. She slouched down in the seat, her head burning.

“I know. I know all that! But what about the real thing? Trust,” Liz repeated. “Take Mom and Dad—whatever their problems are, they know they can trust each other. It’s not something they click on and off.” Her voice got choked. “I always thought Scott was the nicest man I’d ever met.”

Karen looked out the window. Why didn’t Liz just say it? She had ruined Liz’s life. “Do you want to hit me?” she blurted.

“No, I don’t want to hit you!”

“Go ahead, do it. I give you permission. Hit me!”

“Stop that, Karen.”

“If it’ll make you feel better—”

“It isn’t that simple.”

“I wish it was! I wish it was, Liz!”

Liz glanced at her, her freckles bright, then her eyes slid past Karen. “There she is. There’s Tobi!”

Tobi was leaning against a phone booth, standing on one foot. Karen got out to let her sit in the front seat. There were big purple bruises on Tobi’s arms. “Did Jason do that, Tobi?” She couldn’t believe it. She wanted to jump out of the car and kill him.

“He was drinking,” Tobi said. “He loses his head when he drinks. He grabbed me. And then he hid my shoes so I couldn’t leave.” She started to laugh, then turned her head and sobbed.

“Oh, god, Tobes—” Karen reached over the seat to hug her. Then Liz was hugging her, too, the three of them tangled up, all of them crying.

At home, they put ice on Tobi’s arms, fussed over her, bringing her food and combing her hair and petting her. When she thought of Jason hiding her shoes, Tobi would laugh, and then cry and then laugh again. Finally she calmed down. “I don’t-want Mom and Dad to know.”

“Tobi,” Liz said, “it’s no good. He’s not right. You know Dad never lifted a finger to one of us—”

Tobi sniffed. “Dad—any one of us could beat him up.”

Later, Liz went out to the store to buy a few things. “I don’t think we should leave Tobi alone,” she said to Karen. •

“I’ll stay with her. Wait. Liz, wait.” She put out her hands. “What about us?”

“What about us?” Liz said.

“I don’t want—You haven’t talked to me in weeks!”

“I’m talking now.”

“Because of Tobi! What happens tomorrow?”

Liz hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said. “I guess we’ll talk tomorrow, too.”

“Liz!—”

Liz picked up her car keys. “I don’t think everything can be spelled out, Karen. Maybe we just have to wait and see.”

Tobi and Karen were upstairs in Tobi’s room when they heard a tremendous banging on the front door.

“It’s Jason,” Tobi said. “I don’t want to talk to him!”

“I’ll get it,” Karen said. She opened the front door. There was Jason, the awful man, big as ever, a kind of slipping, sliding smile coming and going on his face. “Where’s my girl? Where’s Tobi?”

From the top of the stairs, Tobi screamed, “Go home, Jason. How dare you follow me here!” She went into her room, slammed her door, and locked it—you could hear the lock clicking.

Jason looked past Karen, into the house, with a puddled, sad-eyed expression. Was he drunk? Half drunk? On the way to being sober? Safe? Dangerous? She’d never been alone with a drunken man. She was scared and thought about locking herself-in her room, too. Then she got mad. This was her house. “Tobi wants you to leave, and so do I.” Her knees were shaking.

His eyes focused on her. Then, as meekly as could be, he said, “Would you give me a cup of coffee, please?”

“Outside,” she said. “You stay outside.” She closed the door on him and peeked through the little side

window. He sat down on the steps, his hands folded in his lap. As Grandma would have said, Looking like butter would melt in his mouth.

She heated up Liz’s morning coffee and brought him out a cup. “Thank you.” He lifted the cup to his lips as delicately as if he were at a tea party. If Karen hadn’t been remembering the bruises on Tobi’s arms every minute, it might have been funny.

He started telling her how much he loved Tobi and how sorry he was and how he was going to change. She didn’t say anything. She wished he’d finish his coffee and go. Even though he was so mild, she didn’t trust him. “Will you ask Tobi to come down and talk to me? Will you just ask her that? Then I’ll go.”

What was this—was she everyone’s go-between? Speak to Liz. Ask Tobi. A pox on all of them! She went upstairs. “He wants to see you.”

“No,” Tobi said. “I know him. I’ll go down and then he’ll start crying, and I’ll say, Okay, okay, all is forgiven. No. Let him suffer a little!” She walked up and down her room, her arms wrapped around herself. “Is he suffering?”

“I don’t know. He seems sorry.”

“Not good enough. I’m not going through life with purple arms.” She went to the window. “God. Everything is so complicated. I wish I didn’t love him.”

Karen went back downstairs. “She doesn’t want to talk to you,” she said, standing in the doorway.

“Did you tell her—” Jason began in a humble voice.

“I told her. You have to go. Now.”

“I could just wait here—”

“No.” Her voice was not exactly loud, but it was strong; it reminded her of her grandmother’s voice. “You have to go,” she repeated. “Right now.”

She watched until he got in his car and drove off.

“Is he gone? Did you get rid of him?” Tobi leaned over the banister.

“He’s gone,” Karen said, going up the stairs.

“Good. You did good, Karen.” Tobi hugged her, then ran down the hall, calling, “I have to pee! I’ve been holding it, I didn’t dare even pee when he was here!”

Karen went to her room and took Scott’s T-shirts, the two guilty secrets, off the shelf. She didn’t even want to touch them. She dropped them on the floor, then kicked the one that had been Liz’s down the hall into Liz’s room. She had to pick it up to put it back in Liz’s bureau.

In her room again, she looked down at the T-shirt she’d worn home from Scott’s apartment. What was she to do with that one? Run it up a flagpole and give it the Bronx cheer? Wrap it around her head as a sweatband? Rip it up for rags? That appealed to her—the closest she’d ever get to mopping up the floor with Scott. She ripped it apart. “All right,” she said, out loud, “that’s taken care of.” And heard again her grandmother’s voice lodged in her throat.

“Did you say something?” Tobi asked, poking in her head.

“I have a lot of things to say,” Karen said.

“Oh, my.” Tobi raised her eyebrows mockingly. They linked arms and went downstairs. A few moments later, Liz came back with a grocery bag. “You guys hungry? If you make cheese sandwiches, Tobi,

I’ll make some chocolate pudding.” She hesitated, then touched Karen’s arm. “Want to set the table?”

Karen opened the silverware drawer, then reached past Liz for the napkins. Her arm brushed Liz’s. Another touch. Soon they’d sit down and eat together. It seemed like two tremendous steps.

She got the blue plates with the hand-painted sunflowers in the middle down-from the top shelf, where her mother had banished them because they were all chipped. It was true, there was hardly an untouched, smooth edge to a single plate. But she’d always loved them. Who cared about a few chips? The blue was vivid as sky, the gold of the sunflower drew you into its warm center.

The cheese sandwiches were ready before the chocolate pudding. They were all ravenous. They sat around the kitchen table, eating the sandwiches and drinking glass after glass of cold milk.

About the Author.

NORMA Fox MAZER is the author of more than nineteen books for young readers, among them Taking Terri Mueller, When We First Met, and the Newbery Honor book After the Rain. Three companion novels, A, My Name Is Ami, B, My Name Is Bunny, and C, My Name Is Cal, are her most recent Scholastic books. Ms. Mazer has twice received the Lewis Car-roll Shelf Award, has won the Edgar Award and the California Young Readers’ Medal, and has been nominated for the National Book Award.

Ms. Mazer lives with her husband Harry Mazer in the Pompey Hills, outside Syracuse, New York.