The Juliet Spell (17 page)

My mom had been okay with it, just. “I don’t like what little I know about Phil, and that part of town isn’t good,” she’d said. “But Edmund will go no matter what. So I guess you’d better tag along and try to protect him from any more piano-size mistakes.”

Ah, yes. Protect Edmund from mistakes. If only.

Phil’s house was huge. The living room was almost the size of an Olympic swimming pool, and the arched passage into the dining room made it look even bigger. There were at least five bedrooms, including the one that had been for a maid, once upon a time. There was even a basement, which was where the party was. Phil had turned it into a wine cellar, with two floor-to-ceiling racks for bottles running along the walls. Red-and-blue flashing Christmas lights were strung along the tops of the wine racks. Overhead hung a piñata shaped like a devil’s head and painted red.

The ceiling was so low, and the head was so big that peo.ple kept bumping into it. Whenever they did, the devil gig.gled. Phil had installed some kind of electric thingie that was pressure-sensitive or something. As the place filled up, the devil made more and more sounds until it was like he was chatting along with everybody else.

There were six half-barrels filled with ice and drinks. There were little signs on sticks poking up from the ice that said either NICE or NAUGHTY. NICE meant non.alcoholic and NAUGHTY meant beer.

The room went on filling up, and pretty soon there wasn’t room to move. The devil kept giggling and giggling.

At the back of the cellar, Phil and Gillinger stood side by side sipping a bottle of wine. They were the only ones drink.ing it, and everyone knew that they were the only ones who would be. Even in the crowded cellar, they stood a little apart from the rest of us.

Edmund was leaning against one of the wine racks with a can of NICE in one hand and an arm around Vivian. Bobby was kissing Stacy, one of the servant/citizens.

I was across the room, next to Drew, trying to keep Ed.mund in sight and wondering why I was bothering. The air was thick and heavy and made me slightly sick.

Edmund and Vivian threw a lip-lock on each other that looked like a permanent condition.

It made me feel like I was being stabbed in the stomach. I had to get out of there before I threw up.

“Are you okay, Miri?” Drew asked.

“Juliet’s asphyxiating,” I said. “Gotta get some air.”

“I’ll go with you,” he said.

“I also have to pee.”

“Okayyy—you’re on your own.”

I pushed and “excuse me’d” my way to the stairs and up them. Just getting out of that cellar was a big help.

I looked around for the bathroom—like a lot of old houses, Phil’s only had one—and finally found it down a long hall, stuck between two of the bedrooms. On the way, I got a better look at the décor. On most of the walls hung pictures of Phil in various costumes. There he was, much younger and thinner in Cats, so that story was true.

There were also pictures of him in productions of Our Town, Inherit the Wind, The Man Who Came to Dinner and portraits of him all in black as Hamlet, and all in white as Jesus. He’d grown a beard for that one. It had hidden his un.derslung chin, but he still looked exactly like Phil Hormel. I doubted if anybody who’d ever played Jesus had looked less like what Jesus was supposed to look like.

But the bathroom, thank God, was empty. I sat down gratefully on the toilet seat.

Slowly, I got control of my stomach. By the time some.body knocked on the door, I was almost better.

But no matter what Mom had said about sticking near Ed.mund in case he needed interference run, I couldn’t go back in that basement. At least not right away. I went out onto the front porch.

Maria Brandstedt was there, sitting on the steps and smok.ing a thin brown cigarette in a black holder. I caught a whiff of the tobacco smoke—not the thing I needed in my lungs at the moment, thanks—and twisted to go back in. But Maria heard me and turned around.

“My smoking annoys you? I’ll put it out.”

“Oh, you don’t—” I began, but she had already crushed the cigarette against the concrete.

“Thanks,” I said, and sat down beside her.

“You are not well?” she said.

“Just a little woozy all of a sudden. Guess there’s not enough air down there for me.”

“It’s not surprising. There is hardly enough oxygen for Gillinger and Hormel to keep their egos alive, let alone enough for thirty other people to breathe.” She hunched forward and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I hate par.ties.”

“So why did you come?”

She gave me a long look. Then she said, “To keep an eye on Phil.”

“Oh,” I said, as if I knew what she was talking about.

“We’re having an affair,” she added.

“Oh,” I said again.

“It’s a stupid thing to do.” She shrugged. “But sometimes it is absolutely necessary to be stupid, you know?”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“Stupid to care so much about some damned man. A cow.ard and a liar, like all of them. But what else is there to do? Everything wears off after five years or so. Then it is time to love again, you know?”

I must have given something off, because Maria smiled a little and said, “Is Edmund your first?”

“Oh, we’re not—” I started. Then I said, “Yes,” because he was.

“So my daughter has competition. Well, you could do worse. He is a handsome rogue.” She shook her head. “The two of you. Men.”

Part of me wanted to straighten her out about me. But a smarter part thought, I’m just about to find out stuff I want to know. So I tried to look like I was The Other Woman.

Maria smiled a little. “Your mother. How does she feel about this?”

“She’s okay with it so far,” I said.

“Well. That is intelligent, I think. When a girl reaches your age a parent cannot really impose her will anymore.”

“How does your husband feel about Vivian and Edmund?” I asked.

“Furious. But do not worry. There is nothing he can do, and he knows it.” She sighed. “We make life interesting for him, my daughter and I. But without us, he would have no life at all, and he knows this.”

“Do you think he knows about you and Phil?”

“Of course he knows. I am not some child to keep my love life secret from my husband,” Maria said.

All of a sudden I was feeling very sorry for Mr. Brandstedt. I sat silently for a while, feeling sad for him and miserable for myself and wishing I could do something about any of it.

“Well, thanks for talking to me, Maria,” I said finally. “I think I’ll go back to the party.”

Maria took out another cigarette.

When I got back to the basement, Edmund and Vivian were gone.

“Where’s Edmund?” I asked Drew.

“Not sure,” he said. “He was talking with Phil. Then he took off with Vivian.”

“You just let him leave? I’m supposed to keep an eye on him. You’re supposed to help me.”

“He didn’t ask my permission…. But if you want my opin.ion, they didn’t go far.”

“Thanks a lot,” I said, and went over to Bobby.

“Bobby, do you know where Edmund and Vivian are?” I said when he and Stacy came up for air.

“I do not know, and I do not care,” Bobby said.

I saw Phil with his empty glass hanging from his fingers. Gillinger was turned away, talking to Bill Meisinger.

“Hey, Phil, have you seen my cousin?” I asked.

“I gave him the key to my guesthouse,” he said. “I never use it. And he and Vivian looked desperate.”

“Oh. Thanks,” I said, and felt my heart break.

I wanted to get out of there, to go home, to go anywhere. And I really, really didn’t want to cry, which was just what I was going to do. Damn it, what were all these people do.ing here when I needed privacy, a lot of privacy?

I got out of the basement and made my way to the far cor.ner of the yard and sat down with my back against a tree. I put my face on my knees and I wept.

After a while I heard quiet steps. Steps were the last thing I wanted to hear.

“Miri?”

“Leave me alone, Drew,” I said.

“Take you home?” he asked.

“Yeah. I want to get out of here.”

He held out his hand, but I got up on my own.

“Let’s go this way,” he said, and he led me to the front yard by the side of the house opposite the driveway. It was just a narrow dark little corridor with nobody there except a couple kissing. I couldn’t even see who they were. Which meant they couldn’t see me. Which was perfect.

Drew and I walked across the front yard with our heads down like we were talking. We turned up the street to his car. He opened the door for me and we got in.

“I’m sorry I was obtuse back there in the cellar,” Drew said.

I shook my head. “Forget it.”

Drew concentrated on his driving. Neither of us said any.thing else until he pulled into my driveway. Then we had one of those awkward moments when he came around to open the door for me and I got out without waiting for him.

“Oh,” he said.

I stepped past him.

“I’m going back to the party, I guess. I’ll try to keep an eye on him for you.” Drew shrugged.

“He’s fine,” I said and then headed for the front door. “Thanks for getting me out of there.”

“Miri—” he said to my back.

“Yeah?” I said without turning around.

“Miri, is there anything I can do?”

“No. Not unless you can send a certain English lout back to where he came from.” I didn’t mean it. But then again, part of me did. Conflicted, Dad would have said.

Drew pretended to laugh and said, “I’ll work on it.”

It was awkward hanging on to my doorknob. “You’re a good friend, Drew. Good night.”

“Miri,” Drew said again.

“Yeah, Drew?” I said.

“…nothin’. Good night.”

“Yeah,” I said. “See you.”

I went into the house and locked the door behind me. For some reason I thought about the fact that I’d never heard Drew say “nothin’” before.

Chapter Nineteen

Edmund didn’t come back until almost dawn. I heard Viv.ian’s car pull up and drive away, and he came into the house by the front door and went straight to his room. I didn’t see him until that afternoon.

Mom was in the backyard weeding the flowers. I was star.ing at the TV without watching it.

“How was the party?” I asked as chipper as I could.

“Grand and glorious,” Edmund said. He sounded really tired. “Phil Hormel is a true friend.”

“Nice of Vivian to bring you back. I kind of thought she’d keep you.”

“She would an she could,” Edmund said. “And if I would let her. But I mind what ye said to me, faithful spirit. I’ll not trust her too far.”

“Well.” I shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t really matter very much. Sorry I was so snarky about it at first.”

“Snarky! Ha, ha. Excellent word,” Edmund said.

I got up.

“Mom’s in the back. I need to ask her something,” I said, and left him standing in the living room.

Mom was down on her knees by the tulips. There was a pile of small green dead things with their roots covered with dirt lying beside her.

“Edmund’s back.”

“I know,” Mom said.

I watched her work. She had a metal-tipped thing like a sort of fork in her hand and she was gouging the earth around the weeds like she was a surgeon.

Out came the weed, a long-rooted monster. She tossed it onto the pile.

“Mom,” I said. “Why are men such jerks?”

She brushed her hair away from her face and looked up at me.

“Honey, if I knew that, I’d write the book on it and every woman in the world would buy two copies. One for herself and one for her daughter.”

She went back to digging, ferociously.

“Whew. I haven’t had a chance to do this for a long time,” she said. “Pulling double shifts doesn’t leave a lot of time for pulling weeds.”

“It’s looking great.”

“There’s one thing I do know,” Mom said. “A guy—a lot of guys—try to find out what they can get away with. What the woman will put up with. It’s important for us to know what we will and won’t accept.”

“What about guys?” I said, thinking of Mr. Brandstedt. “Do they have to figure out what they’ll accept?”

“Same thing, I guess. I’ve never been a guy so I can’t be sure.”

Then I said, “What if you love the guy?”

“All the more reason to know what you’ll accept.”

I got down beside my mom. “Dad went away,” I said.

“Yep,” she agreed. “And I’m putting up with that. And I’m still hoping he’ll come back. But if he’d had another woman instead of wandering off, I’d have taken this and stuck it in his...eye.”

She stabbed her weeding stick into the ground.

“Mom, were you ever in a situation where you loved somebody and he didn’t love you?”