Cultivating marigold, p.7
Cultivating Marigold, page 7
“It isn’t funny, Goldie,” Mom said, her eyes wide. “The only thing you can do is admit what you did and ask for forgiveness. To forgive is divine, but we can’t do that unless you admit to it.”
“Pretty speech, Mom.” My stomach hurt from laughing so hard. I hadn’t eaten dinner yet, so I already felt queazy. The combination left me unable to do what she clearly wanted, which was to take one for the team, and pretend her husband wasn’t full of crap. “No, I didn’t steal your stupid car. You probably left the dome light or the headlights on, and the battery is dead. Give it a jump. I’m sure you know how.” I turned and stomped into the kitchen where there were dishes from dinner piled in the sink, but no dinner left.
I grabbed a banana and an apple and headed up to my room, ignoring the angry words in the family room. The dishes could wait.
The step-dick’s attempt to blame me for every small inconvenience might not have been so bad if Mom didn’t go along with everything he said. But this was who she was. This was who she had always been. I was helpless to change it.
My notebook couldn’t get out of my backpack fast enough. My hand couldn’t find a pen any quicker than it did. A practiced yank from my hoodie pocket, and my small, ever-present pen scribbled madly while I chewed a bite of my apple.
Dinner Guest
It is our table
Much too large for the space
polished to gleaming
Our table
Christmas we sat around it to eat turkey
On a Tuesday in September
he sits there
Alone.
Our table
His presence dwarfs it, makes it
suddenly small
His back hunches over like a predator about to feed
Obscures the shine of the wood
Blocks all light
Our table
His eyes oubliettes and his smile holds all the promise of the mouth of hell
This is Mommy's special friend.
I whispered
My voice not strong enough
Mommy
he's evil.
If only she listened.
twelve
The next morning, I woke up early, my hands shook, unsure if they should have a pen and notebook in them or not, if I should write a new piece or not.
I couldn’t. As much as I wanted to, there was too much to do. I took a shower, got ready for school, and did the dishes from the night before after I texted J to pick me up on his way to school. It would give me more time to clean the kitchen. While I may have been temporarily bold last night by refusing to get blamed for grand theft auto of the battery kind, I needed to get the dishes done before I took off for the party tonight. I didn’t want to come home after school.
When I was wiping down the countertop, my phone chirped in my pocket. I made my way to the door, grabbing my backpack on the way out. And while everyone in my house remained asleep, I went out to meet J.
His Honda waited in my driveway, but someone was already in the passenger seat. Through the foggy, not-quite-full light of morning, I couldn’t make out who it was.
Opening the back door behind J, the dome light came on, illuminating Tara in my usual shotgun spot.
“Good morning,” she said, her hand in J’s, resting on the console between them.
So, they were back together. It was fine. I was fine. My best friend just started dating her again. And didn’t tell me. Again. No big deal. But I looked for J’s eyes in the rearview mirror anyway. He wasn’t looking at me.
“Good morning, back,” I said, trying to blunt the edge in my voice, and probably failing. “Are you ready for Ms. E.’s class today?”
They had her for English a different period than I did.
“I turned that in last week.” Tara’s voice was dismissive, like this opportunity didn’t matter, and it was just another assignment. “It won’t win, but it’s done. I didn’t like the theme. I mean, who wants to think about violence? Let alone write about it. And my mom is furious. She says the Tucker Foundation and their magazine are feminists.” She did the whisper thing on the word ‘feminists,’ and J jerked the wheel, the car lurching in the middle of the road.
“Are you okay?” she asked, threading her fingers through his.
“Uh, yeah. I’m fine,” he said. But he wasn’t.
I didn’t know what he was upset about. Was it her weird fear of the word feminist, like it was a curse word, or the theme of the assignment?
But I knew what I was upset about.
How the hell did I end up surrounded by people like Tara? People who acted like feminism was a bad word, and if they pretended violence didn’t exist, then the world would be better off. Chances were Tara and I wouldn’t be in the same friend group if our moms didn’t attend the same culty church.
She was a nice enough person, but she was really weird in the sheltered and made-to-stay-in-one-insulated-environment-for-too-long kind of way. This was her first year in public school instead of homeschool. I wasn’t sure why her mom wasn’t still homeschooling her.
Way more important than what she thought, now I wasn’t sure if J was more like me, or more like her.
His dad was a pastor. His mom was an attorney who worked with the ACLU, but maybe they were all like my mom, too.
Tara prattled on about the party that night, and how much she was looking forward to dancing while I stared out the window, pretending everything was fine. My stomach twisted itself into a snarling, screaming mess. The car couldn’t stop moving fast enough. But everything was fine. I was fine.
J pulled us into a parking spot at the school, and I dropped my head back onto the seat, closed my eyes, and took deep breaths, trying to quell the watery sensation in my mouth before I threw up in the school parking lot.
“G? Are you okay?” J asked.
“Yeah.” Big breath in. Big breath out. “I didn’t eat well last night, and haven’t yet today. My stomach is upset. That’s all.” Big breath in. Big breath out.
“Come on, G. You have no reason for nerves. You’re going to win this.” J was smiling at me, twisted around in his seat when I opened my eyes.
“Let’s get to class.” Tara climbed out of her side of the car, and we followed suit.
Reece was only a few cars away, getting out of his wagon. He waved to me, and headed in my direction, his flirty grin on his face.
“Hey, Babe.” He kissed me, and slung an arm over my shoulder, leading me toward the school.
“Please don’t call me that. I don’t like it,” I said, my voice weak still.
“I thought you were only saying that because you were mad.”
“No. I wasn’t.” I ducked out from under his arm, the weight of it too much along with my backpack, but I slipped my hand into his, weaving our fingers together.
“Do you have that thing for English? I finished mine this morning,” he said, and the wet feeling in the back of my throat returned. I must have actually been nervous.
“Of course. Did you really wait till this morning? It’s a full ride. To anywhere.” How could he be this flippant about this chance?
“Well, I’m getting a baseball scholarship. This isn’t my thing. Hey,” he said, nodding his head as one of his teammates passed us in the entryway of the school. “There’s Kason. I’ll see you in class.” He kissed me on the cheek, and darted away to his friend.
The people around me all seemed as indifferent as Tara and Reece. None of them seemed to realize that someone’s world could change today. My world could change today.
“Goldie.” Em’s voice assaulted me at the same time she did, jumping onto my back so I stumbled to stop myself from falling on my face.
“Em. What the hell?” I braced myself as she dismounted from my back, laughing as she did.
“I’m so excited for the party tonight. After the drama last night, I need this party.” She flipped her hair to the other side so she could wrap her arm around me, and leaned in to talk into my face. Her breath smelled of tainted orange juice.
“What drama? And…are you drunk?” I whispered, stopping in the middle of the hallway to stare at her.
“No. Of course not. I had one drink. Big deal,” she rambled, playing with her hair, still leaning her orangey breath into my face.
“It’s a big damn deal when you’re at school,” I hissed. How was I supposed to fix this?
“Fine. All my friends are sucking today. No one wants to be any fun.” She pulled away from me. When I tried to grab her arm, she snatched it back and stomped down the hall.
I rubbed a hand over my face and looked for someone else I could send to check on her since she was clearly mad at me now. I hoped it was one drink. And I hoped she sobered up fast.
Cami and Fran stood in front of Ms. E.’s room, deep in some conversation that meant Fran’s hands flew around while they whispered in each other’s faces. Cami looked scared, and Fran looked pissed. What the hell was up with everybody?
As much as they probably didn’t want me to interrupt them, and even though I definitely didn’t want to get in the middle of it, I had to get one of them to keep an eye on Em. Fran and Em had the same choir class first period, so she was my best bet.
“Hey, Frannie, Em has been drinking,” I said, making sure I was loud as I approached them, so they weren’t startled by me arriving out of nowhere while they talked about whatever was going on with them.
“She’s what?” Fran snapped.
“Em is drunk, and mad at me. Can you keep an eye on her please? I don’t want her to get in trouble,” I said while the fury passed from Fran’s eyes and Cami bit her lip.
“At school?” Fran asked, and I nodded. “Yeah, sure. No problem.” Fran turned on her heel, and Cami grabbed her hand before she took a step away.
“Stop,” Fran said, hard and loud.
Cami dropped her hand and Fran dashed down the hall.
“Are you okay?” I asked, reaching toward Cami’s shoulder. She looked like someone kicked her puppy.
“I’m always okay.” Cami shrugged away from my hand, but she smiled. It was wavering and insincere, but I was the last person who had any right to shatter someone’s illusion if it made them feel better.
“Did you get the assignment done?” I asked instead of pushing her to talk about the problem, and I moved toward the door.
“Goldie, have I ever not done all the things I’m supposed to?” She shook her head, and followed me into the classroom. She was right. She was her parents’ perfect child. Great grades. Good at everything except singing. But I had never heard her talk about it like she was sad.
“Hello, ladies. Are you ready for today?” Ms. E. asked as we walked in the door.
That was a loaded question, Ms. E.
Cami flinched, and I wasn’t sure what to make of the scene in the hallway. She was clearly not ready to talk to me about it, and I wasn’t sure what I was ready to talk about. Definitely not J and Tara, and I didn’t even want to think of my mom for the rest of the day.
“I will be if you look over my poem.” Hopefully, I could at least be ready for this competition.
thirteen
“Damn this music is terrible,” I said, tucking myself a little further out of the back door of the party. People in various stages of impairment crowded inside, dancing to some kind of experimental horror show without any discernible beat or lyrical theme. Reece loved it, but it made me want to gouge out my eardrums, and hurl into the bushes even though I had nothing to drink.
“I kind of like it,” Cami said.
There was no damn way. Cami had great taste in music. If it was new and good, she was the first person to know about it. I almost fell down.
“You know, at least with this trash playing, I can’t hear the dumb crap that comes out of some people’s mouths,” Cami said, shooting a death glare through the doorway at Fran.
“Thank all that is holy that’s why you said that,” I said. “What’s the deal anyway? You guys haven’t explained what the argument was about this morning, and you refuse to speak to each other. It’s driving me batty.”
“She just…Nothing. It really is nothing. I just…I can’t deal with her right now.” Cami’s face screwed up, her tiny button nose twisting, and her dimple popping out.
“You know, we only have six weeks left until she goes to college. I don’t know what the problem is, but…” I said, squaring up to face Cami, “…I’m not going to tell you what you feel isn’t important, but I wish I knew what’s going on so I could actually be helpful.” I waited. Giving her time to tell me, but she didn’t. She started to pull her head back, and looked panicked instead. “In the absence of that, I want to ask you one thing.”
The pause between us felt charged, with its own non-rhythm clashing in my brain against the discordant noise spewing from the speakers. Her long, curly, brown hair waved in a warm gust. But I continued to pause, to let the moment hang, suspended in the damp air so she could experience it like I did. So we could be in the same space before I said anything that might damage our friendship inadvertently. So she could feel how much I wanted to make this better.
The fire burned away from Cami’s face leaving her looking not exactly apprehensive, but expectant, “Okay, what question?”
“You and Fran have been friends for a long time. Whatever is going on, is it worth tarnishing all those memories for? If she leaves for college, and you guys haven’t figured it out—or even just agreed to coexist—will you regret it?”
She teared up.
Panic sent adrenaline through my veins. I was positive that I had screwed it all up.
But Cami grabbed me, and roughly hugged me. It took a second for me to realize this was good. I hugged her back and she mumbled, “Thanks, Goldie.”
Then she was gone, making a beeline to the most startled version of Fran I had ever seen. Even Fran’s short hair stood almost on end, although I thought it was just the dancing. She was usually the most stoic of us all.
“Damn, their fight must have been bad, huh?” Em said, popping up from somewhere in the backyard to look over my shoulder.
“Frannie looks scared, doesn’t she?” I asked.
“Yeah, this…is weird. I don’t like them not getting along,” Em said, and leaned into my back, like being physically closer to me would make all our friends emotionally closer again.
Cami grabbed Fran by the hand when she reached her, lacing their fingers together, and pulling her away, moving off toward the front of the house.
Hopefully they could find someplace away from the rest of the party to figure their crap out.
“If this works, then I owe you a drink. If it doesn’t, I may have to kick your ass,” Em said.
We both laughed. Not because she couldn’t do it. She absolutely could. She had five or six inches on me, and did kickboxing for fun. But it would never happen. I turned around and leaned against the railing of the deck so I could talk to her face.
“At last count, I’m pretty sure you were supposed to kill me forty-two times for things I’ve messed up,” I said.
“Yes, but I haven’t because I am magnanimous and wonderful,” she said, sticking her nose in the air.
“Magnanimous. So, in this scenario you’re all powerful. Interesting.”
“Yep. Ha. I’m not taking your teasing today because I’m going to have way too much fun tonight to let mere mortals mettle in my merriment.” She started to walk away.
“That was way too much alliteration,” I yelled over the music at her back.
“And, yet, you never argued about me being wonderful,” she yelled back, and did a twirl to top off her point.
I laughed as boys converged on her position in the middle of the dance floor making her look every bit the all-powerful being.
This party really was full of her waiting fans.
Kason was among the throng, always eager for more attention from Em, who hadn’t bothered to talk to him since before she broke up with her ex.
She danced, badly as always, with five guys at once, all of them equally entranced by her, and none of them making the cut for more than a few songs.
I wandered away, further into the backyard. It was soggy out there because of the fog this morning—which would probably return tonight. I needed a break from the socialness of it all. Sometimes it got to be too much for me.
Drama grew like a fungus on everyone in the school this year. Maybe it was because some people were graduating, but it felt worse than in the past.
“God, she’s such a slut,” I heard from around a shrub, and stopped instantly. Instinctively, I knew that, not only was I not supposed to hear this, but I didn’t think I wanted to. Yet my feet wouldn’t move to get me the hell out of here.
My traitor feet left me hoping whoever was talking would go away.
“You know he’s only dating her because she’s screwing him,” a second voice said.
“I mean, Reece is totally in love with you. You know that. He’ll figure it out.”
Someday I was sure I would be able to let crap like this roll off my back, but today was not that day. Someone needed to be slapped.
Marching around the shrub to look the speakers in the eye, murder flashed in my head.
It was Jen, Reece’s ex, and Bridget. Both people I thought I was cool with, and one I even considered my friend. My arrival clamped their mouths shut.
We stood frozen. I discovered I wasn’t pissed off anymore. I was just…sad. These were not the randoms I expected to hear talk about me like this. These girls knew me.
No part of me wanted to fight anyone over Reece. But damned if I was going to allow them to talk about me that way. I looked back at them, and painted my face in murder again, getting a tiny bit of joy out of seeing them flinch.
“The status of my maybe existent sex life is none of your damned business. And slut shaming? Really? Nice way to support your fellow girls,” I said. Before they could answer, I pivoted away, leaving them to gape like fish.
I was done with this stupid party.
It took me no time to stomp my way back into the house. At least there was decent music playing, although it was neither melancholy nor angry enough for my emotional needs at that moment. I sidestepped my way inside the house through the teeming sea of my classmates, past the keg with its questionable puddle, and into the kitchen. I scooted around bad dancers, good talkers, and gross kissers, to the front of the house, searching for Reece so we could get the hell out.
