Where Yesterday Lives (17 page)

“We get along better when we’re two thousand miles apart,” Ellen had often told Mike. “I think that’s the secret.”

Especially when it came to Ellen and Jane.

The strangest thing about Jane, in Mike’s opinion, was that away from Ellen she was a wonderful person. Sadly, Ellen knew it, too.

“Have you ever seen how her friends treat her? How she treats them? They love her, Mike. She’s bubbly and funny and happy. She’s the greatest in their eyes.”

Mike listened sympathetically.

“Why can’t she be that way with me? I’m her sister, after all. I love her more than any of them, and she treats me like dirt. Sometimes I feel like walking up to her and saying, ‘Hi. I’m Ellen. Let’s be friends.’ Maybe if I pretended to be a stranger, she’d be nice to me.”

Mike was puzzled by Jane’s attitude. Especially after Jane and Troy were married and began having children. Koley was born in 1992, and Ellen tried to make herself available on the weekends to help Jane when Troy was on business trips.

Mike recalled the time Ellen stayed at Jane’s home and
watched the newborn baby one Saturday so Jane could sleep. Mike had come to pick Ellen up just as Jane trudged wearily from her bedroom.

“How was he?” she asked.

“Just fine,” Ellen cooed at the baby and tickled his cheek. “Get any sleep?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Ellen studied her sister. “You know, Jane, you look really good. You’d never know you had a baby two weeks ago.”

Mike had been surprised at the cool look in Jane’s eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ellen paused, clearly at a loss. “Nothing. Just what I said. You look good.”

“Listen, don’t make fun of me,” Jane barked. “Just because you’re Miss Cosmopolitan with the sleek figure doesn’t give you the right to comment about me—”

“Whoa, Jane, Ellen was just being nice,” Mike broke in.

She ignored him. “Just wait, Ellen. Your turn will come. You’ll get stretch marks on your stomach and crease marks on your chest and you’ll be struggling to find your old shape. I can’t wait for that day. Imagine, Ellen Barrett, chunky and out of shape. That’ll be a sight I definitely don’t want to miss.”

Tears welled up in Ellen’s eyes and she stood up, passing the baby to Jane.

“I have things to do, Jane. Call me if you need me.”

“Are you trying to say I can’t do this on my own?”

Mike wondered if he had missed some segment of their conversation. He could not understand what had triggered Jane’s anger.

He took Ellen’s arm and led her across the living room to the door, growing angry himself when he felt how Ellen was trembling. Jane followed after them, crying and waking the baby with her shouting.

“Don’t worry about me, Ellen! I don’t need you. I can handle this mothering thing all by my—”

Mike closed the door on the rest of the sentence. They walked to the car in silence, then drove straight to Ellen’s parents’ house where they were staying for the weekend.

“It’s like she hates me and I don’t even know what I’ve done wrong,” Ellen cried when they were in their room.

Mike had his opinions about Jane but he kept them to himself. That afternoon he convinced Ellen that Jane must have been suffering a hormonal imbalance. “You know, that baby blues thing, postportem or something. I heard about it on
Oprah
once.”

“Postpartem.” Ellen sniffed. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Come on, honey She’ll be fine in a few Weeks. Don’t take it personally.”

But privately he didn’t think hormones could excuse Jane’s actions toward Ellen. They certainly could not explain her bitter attitude before the baby was born.

Through the years Ellen had found several opportunities to address the issue directly with Jane.

“Why do you hate me, Jane?” Ellen would ask. “What have I done to hurt you? What can I do to change so that you’ll be civilized when we’re together?”

Whenever Ellen asked such a question Jane would do something that completely baffled Ellen. She would cry and accuse Ellen of saying hurtful things and trying to upset her.

“Do you think
your
words don’t hurt me, Ellen?” she’d shout, tears coursing down her face. “You have a wicked tongue and you don’t care how it hurts people.”

Inevitably Ellen would apologize. For six months or a year the sisters would get along, visiting by phone from their separate homes and talking about surface subjects.

Mike shook his head. Problem was, they never discussed the real reason behind Jane’s resentment. Mike thought it was almost as if Jane was hiding something from Ellen.

The cycle made Mike tired just thinking about it. He could only imagine how it had taken its toll on Ellen over the years.
Poor Ellen. She had been so close to her father and Jane had been so distant. Undoubtedly, now that he was dead, Jane would be upset with Ellen over that fact, too. She would probably accuse her of being their father’s favorite. If Jane did that, Mike could only imagine the friction that would develop between the two oldest Barrett daughters that week.

As if the tension between Jane and Ellen wasn’t enough, Ellen’s other siblings had problems of their own—some considerably more serious than Jane’s anger.

There was Megan, who at twenty-seven was finally beginning to live again. For a five-year period, from age twenty to twenty-five, she had spent much of her time dating a drug dealer. The man had convinced her that her family didn’t care about her and that Ellen, especially, was trying to change her into something she could never be.

As a child Megan had looked up to Ellen. She imitated her and planned to be just like her when she got older. Megan was a brilliant writer with an art for communication. Like Ellen, she was a natural leader and had dozens of friends. She was also, unquestionably, the best looking of John Barrett’s daughters. Whereas Ellen was beautiful and Jane quietly pretty Megan was gorgeous. She had blue eyes big enough to fall into and cheekbones that seemed carved by an artist. Her skin was the color of pale honey and her dark hair hung halfway down her back. On top of that she was gifted with the voice of an angel. When she entered a room, her presence demanded the attention of every person there.

When Megan was in eighth grade Ellen gave her a handwritten book with personal advice on how to survive high school. Megan read the book hungrily, fascinated at the advice Ellen had written for her. She wanted to be everything Ellen had been and more.

Then, unexplainably she dropped out of cheerleading in her junior year and began dating loner types. When she was twenty she met Mohammed, a Goliath of a man with Middle
Eastern roots and a forest of dark hair that covered his body The few times Mohammed visited Megan at the Barrett home he never wore shoes or spoke directly to John or Diane. His eyelids remained half closed and there was something condescending in his attitude toward everyone in the Barrett family Especially Megan.

Mike remembered the first time Mohammed visited the Barrett family It had been a big family get-together.

“So, what is it you do for a living, Mohammed?” John had asked, spreading a thick layer of butter on his bread and helping himself to an extra serving of gravy.

“Things.” It had bothered Mike, the way Mohammed refused to make eye contact with John. Several others at the table had exchanged curious glances.

It made sense now, but at that time none of them—except Megan, of course—knew that Mohammed was a pusher. Everywhere he went he carried a briefcase packed with marijuana, cocaine, and two loaded pistols.

Mike learned later how Mohammed had taught Megan to listen to blank cassette tapes for subliminal messages from “helping-demons,” and when Megan didn’t cooperate, he’d beat her or put his fist through the windshield of her car.

“If you leave me I’ll kill your parents,” Mohammed would threaten her. He was five years older than Megan and she believed him completely The relationship continued.

For years, Mike had watched as Ellen tried unsuccessfully to bring Megan to her senses.

“Don’t preach at me, Ellen!” Megan would scream. “Not everyone is perfect like you. Besides, I don’t do drugs and I’ll date whomever I want, so don’t try to run my life. At least Mo isn’t some plastic phony like Mike!”

Long after Mike and Ellen moved to Miami, Megan was still caught up in the destructive relationship. By the time she finally broke it off with Mohammed, so many years had passed that the chasm between Megan and her sisters was almost too vast
to cross. Mike had seen firsthand at family get-togethers how the tensions remained. This week would be no exception.

Then there was Aaron, the only son. His father’s pride and joy Aaron was strikingly handsome and had always boasted a string of girlfriends. But he was lazy and utterly dependent on his parents for survival. By the time he was twenty-two he had been fired from seven construction jobs. He was six-foot-four, built like a professional linebacker with the strength of five men his size. Once his temper flared in the workplace most employers found it simpler to let him go than to deal with his outbursts.

Mike remembered once when he and Ellen had flown back to Petoskey for a family reunion. A dozen or so family members had gathered at the Barretts’ house for a barbecue and spirits were high. They were seated around the dining room table when Aaron waltzed in after work and helped himself to two hamburgers and a full plate of fixings.

“It’s a potluck, Aaron. Did you bring anything?” John Barrett had asked when Aaron pulled up a chair and sat down.

Aaron slammed his fork down and threw his plate across the room. Diane gasped as the burgers fell apart and landed on the carpet, splattering ketchup on the dining room wall. Aaron glared at his father, stood up, and went into the kitchen where he slammed the dishwasher shut breaking dozens of dishes.

“Aaron!” Diane had gasped.

Unrepentant, Aaron glared at his father and stormed down the hallway toward his bedroom. Mike remembered John Barrett’s expression as he looked at the others, clearly shocked and embarrassed by Aaron’s actions. Then he excused himself and went back toward Aaron’s room to deal with the situation.

The exchange could easily be heard by everyone at the dinner table.

“We cannot tolerate that behavior, son,” John had said, his own voice trembling with controlled rage. Aaron was two inches taller than his father and fifty muscled pounds heavier.

Aaron responded with a string of profanity, telling his father to mind his own business. Then, as was too often the case, he blamed his parents for treating the girls better than him over the years.

“I always got in trouble for things they did!” Aaron’s voice echoed through the house. Mike pushed his plate aside. Another meal spoiled by Aaron’s tantrums. “Do you know what it was like growing up in this family and being the only son?” Aaron shouted. “I bet you didn’t ask
them
to bring anything to the meal. They do whatever they want, and I’m the one who gets the shaft!”

There were more profanities then and finally Mike walked purposefully down the hallway and put himself between John and Aaron.

“Come on, Aaron, let’s take a drive and talk this through,” Mike said.

Aaron glared at Mike and swore at him, accusing him of being a meddler and reminding him that he was not part of the Barrett family. Then in a sudden burst of intense anger he lifted his fist and held it inches from his father’s face. Diane, who had come to see if she could help, screamed. “Someone call the police!”

Aaron swung his fist furiously, but at the last moment he turned his body so that his hand slammed completely through his bedroom door instead of hitting his father. Pulling it free from the splintered wood, he continued to swear at his parents, punching a series of holes in the door.

“Aaron, stop it!” John tried to wrestle him away from the door, but Aaron was out of control. He jerked away from his father’s touch.

“John!” It was Diane’s voice. “Leave him alone. You’ll have a heart attack!”

“That’s all right!” Sweat dripped from his face as he struggled to stop Aaron’s destructive temper tantrum. “He’s my son and he’s not going to behave this way in my house.”

Mike had watched, ready to step in if necessary amazed at Aaron’s strength as he ripped his bedroom door completely off the hinges.

“I hate all of you!” he screamed.

He pushed his father out of the way shoved past the others, and stormed out of the house. The Barrett family stood motionless, stunned, as they heard Aaron screech away from the curb in his pickup truck.

It was neither the first nor the last example of Aaron’s explosive behavior.

Mike remembered a time when Amy, then eighteen, had told Aaron he was a loser. “When are you going to get a real life?” she had asked.

In response, Aaron had walked out to her brand-new car and kicked his work boot deep into the passenger door. As far as Mike knew, the damage had never been repaired.

Mike had leveled with John Barrett one day. “He’s making your life miserable. Maybe it’s time he found his own place.”

“Well, Mike, I’ll tell you. There are times I wonder what I did wrong with Aaron. Sometimes I think he’s still a little boy trapped in a man’s body But we have our good days, the times when we go golfing and get along.” John took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Besides, we have no throwaway kids. Aaron can stay here as long as he needs to. That’s what family is all about.”

Mike had his own opinion about what Aaron needed, but since the conversation with John had proven fruitless, he’d decided to keep his thoughts to himself. With John. With Diane. Even, most of the time, with Ellen. Shaking off the sour memories, Mike stood up slowly and headed into the kitchen for something to eat. The more he thought about the Barretts and their assorted conflicts the more he was thankful he hadn’t gone to Petoskey.

I love her, Lord. You know I do, with my very soul
. He passed a hand wearily over his eyes.
But I can’t spend a week with her family. Not even for this
.

He took a hot dog from the refrigerator, heated it in the microwave, and placed it in a cold bun. Then he looked at the telephone. He should call Ellen. He sighed and stuffed one end of the hot dog into his mouth.