“We’re considered the worst,” Bobby explains. “You’ll figure out pretty soon that none of the teachers like us here. And that you can pretty much do anything you want.”
“I know your dad, too,” Zoe says in a satisfied way. “You look just like him. Even the stare. Positively eerie.”
Bobby tosses her a mean look. “Fuck, I hate it when you eavesdrop, Zoe.”
“Well, I could hardly not listen. You both are very loud.”
I unlock the car. “My dad is an ass. Don’t compare me to Alan Manzone.”
Zoe nods in earnest. “Where are you guys going? Can I go, too?”
Bobby ignores Zoe and studies me for a moment. “Do you really hate him that much? You don’t give him an inch. Why are you so angry?”
I flush. I’ve already been more honest with Bobby Rowan than anyone else I’ve known in my life.
I shake my head. “I thought we’d settled that.”
Zoe climbs into the backseat without being invited. “So where are we going?”
“Don’t you both have cars?” I ask. “I’m not bringing you back here for them.”
“I rode my motorcycle and I’ll get my mom to bring me back if you’re going to be a bitch about the whole thing,” Bobby says.
“I’m not a bitch.”
“Of course you are. Deliberately,” Zoe says in approval. “It’s what I like about you. You scare the crap out of everyone.”
Well, there is no bullshit in this crew, I reluctantly note as I climb into the driver’s seat. That’s something. As irritating as it is, it is refreshing after wading through knee-deep false flattery, backhand innuendo and just plain phony acts of friendship.
I make a careful sideways glance at Bobby as I turn the key in the ignition. I feel it again: that little flutter of interest inside me. I bite my lower lip. “I need to make a stop at my house before we go where you guys want to go.”
Zoe frowns and shakes her head. “Can’t you just text your mom?”
“No, I can’t. I have to check on her and going home is a rule.”
Bobby is studying me again, strangely. “Check on her? What does that mean?”
Oh shit, this guy doesn’t miss a thing.
I give him a back-off glare. “Never mind. I’ve just got to go home first, OK?”
I pull out of the school parking lot and begin to drive home. I should probably text Chrissie first to make sure it is OK to bring friends home, but fuck it, I’ve been punished enough with forced relocation and isolation because Chrissie’s life is a mess. Chrissie’s life is always a mess. The only predictability I’ve ever known was during the Jesse years. Jesse. I feel myself wanting to tear up and force myself not to.
“Hey, you OK?” I hear Bobby say.
Not trusting my voice, I nod. I’m grateful to hear Zoe chirping from the backseat, preventing Bobby from probing any further.
“You know, the adults here are the worst gossips. My mom and dad talk incessantly about everyone. That’s how I knew Alan Manzone was your dad. My mom saw your mom last week at the grocery store. That started a shitstorm of speculation, since I guess they used to be friends, and your mom just brushed by her like she wasn’t there and hasn’t called since she moved here.”
“My mom hasn’t called anyone,” I say, hoping my voice sounds casual.
“That’s true,” Bobby confirms. “My mom hasn’t heard a peep out of her. Not since the funeral. She calls. Chrissie never calls back. Linda has been sitting around our house all butt-hurt for months now.”
“Can we drop it and talk about something else?” I snap in frustration. “You don’t know how irritating it is to live trapped in Chrissie emotional botheration and to have every conversation circle back to Chrissie.”
I pull into my driveway and open my door. “I’ll just be a second.”
Without being invited, they follow me again. Oh shit, that’ll piss Mom off, and knowing that somehow makes it something I just do. I open the front door and gesture them in.
The loudness of the house always hits me like a brick when I step through the front door. The twins are running wild in a way that tells me that Chrissie is still in bed. Two months. Crap, shouldn’t she be out of bed at least the majority of the day by now? How long does it take to recover from a C-section?
“Kaley, is that you? Can you do something about those boys?” I hear my mom call out from the opposite direction of the master bedroom.
I roll my eyes and throw my bag onto the front tile. “They’re your kids. You take care of them. Or hire more help. You’re perfectly capable of doing both. Where’s Lourdes?”
“Please, Kaley. She’s at ballet with Krystal and my hands are a little full right now,” Chrissie replies, unruffled and irritatingly tolerant.
“Whose fault is that?”
“Is it always so chaotic here?” Zoe whispers.
I shrug. “Just since the move. You don’t have to whisper. My mom can’t hear a thing from the back of the house.”
Eric and Ethan run down the hallway like the terrors they are, and I motion for my sort-of friends to follow me as I ignore my six-year-old twin brothers since it’s pointless to try to manage them. They won’t listen to me. They never do. They hardly listen to Chrissie.
In the kitchen I spot Chrissie in the family room area. “I brought friends home, Mom. You can stop calling the teen crisis line. Socially well-adjusted again.”
Chrissie laughs. “Very funny, sweetheart.”
I study her. She looks good today. Better than she has for weeks. I hate that I am relieved to find my mom curled in a chair, dressed, and with Khloe in her arms nursing. She is nursing, not in bed. That is the cause of the twins running wild. She got up today. She is dressed. Maybe she’s finally starting to feel better.
I drop down on the arm of my mom’s chair. I kiss her head. “You have a good day, Mom?”
Chrissie smiles, looking up from the baby. “A good day. Both of us. Khloe finally slept through the night.” She looks over her shoulder, and her stunning blue eyes widen in surprise. “You did bring friends. Kaley, I thought we discussed—” She breaks off without finishing.
“They’re OK. I thought it would be OK,” I reply, defensively.
Chrissie’s smile fades from her face. It is clear the moment my mom realizes who the guy is.
“Bobby Rowan,” Chrissie says in unflustered surprise. “I haven’t seen you since you were ten, but I’d recognize you anywhere.”
I stare at Chrissie, stunned, since I know damn well she’s going to be pissed about this one later. I don’t know how my mom does it, I really don’t, but she can playact in her life is wonderful way through anything. I know she’s not happy about me bringing Bobby Rowan into her protective, isolated universe of ungodly secrets, but not a hint of that shows on her face.
Both Bobby and Zoe say hello.
I smile at my mother, a really shitty thing to do since we both know she’s ticked at me and has reason to be.
“See, Mom. No worries here.”
Chrissie’s eyes sharpen. She stares at me in a silent communication of disapproval and I drop my gaze first. That easily she makes me feel it, the unfairness of what I just did to her today. It may be a complicated mess, but it is Chrissie’s mess, and she does have a right to privacy if she wants it. Bringing Bobby here has definitely not been fair, but I’m tired of the bullshit.
I rise from the arm of my mom’s chair. “Since you’re OK, Mom, I’m going to head out and have some fun for a change. Maybe orchestrate a flash mob or an OWS rally. What do you think?”
“Kaley…”
“I know, Mom. But I can’t live this way, OK? Homebound isolation isn’t healthy for me. I shouldn’t have to suffer your life choices and mistakes. At least in Santa Barbara I had some freedom.”
I can see how those words cut my mother and I really hate that it matters to me that they do. I don’t want to be unkind to Chrissie. I just can’t seem to stop it. There is just too much simmering inside me since the birth of my sister Khloe.