Notes on a Near-Life Experience (24 page)

“Al's waiting in our car with Julian, and Haley and I are cleaning up.”

“I think it's best if I discuss this with your brother and take him home.”

“Dad, we've got it,” I say, and hang up. I turn off my phone; I refuse to be Dad and Allen's relationship counselor.

When Haley and I get to the car, we find Kiki talking to Allen and Julian.

“He needs to eat something and stay awake,” she says.

“If he eats anything, he'll just puke,” I tell her.

“If he eats, the food will help absorb the alcohol in his stomach,” she says.

“How do you know?”

“It's what I do for my mom,” she says quietly. “Believe me, I know.”

“Oh.”

“Just keep him awake, okay?” Kiki asks if she can come with us, but Julian says there isn't enough room in the car.

We find some crackers on a table and feed them to Al on the way home. By the time we get home, just after ten O'clock, Allen has puked twice more (on the side of the road, thankfully) and passed out in the backseat of Julian's mom's car. We help him inside and find Mom, Dad, Keatie, and Paloma sitting around the living room table. Mom has been crying, and when she sees us at the door, she runs over to open it for us and help Allen in.

Allen wakes up. “Mom,” he tells her, “I got sick.”

“I know,” she says. “I see.” She looks at Haley. “You poor thing.”

Haley smiles weakly.

“I'll take you home,” Julian offers.

I look at Haley; she looks away. “I'm really, really sorry,” I tell her. “I know,” she says. “We'll talk tomorrow.” Julian and Haley leave, and Mom and Dad take Al to his room to talk, leaving Keatie, Paloma, and me in the living room. Keatie gets out her violin and plays “Turkey in the Straw” for us over and over again.

“That's all I can do,” she finally says. “My fingers hurt.” We sit in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before I

realize that Keatie has fallen asleep. I nudge her gently. “C'mon, Keater, it's time for bed.” I help her to her room and into bed. “Mia,” she mumbles, half-asleep. “Is Allen bad now?” “What?” I ask her, confused. “Is he bad? Is he going to get kicked out of school and put in jail?” “He's in trouble, Keatie, but I don't think he's going to jail. He isn't bad, he's just sad, I think.” “But we're all sad, right? Me and you and Mom and Dad. We all got sad.” “Yeah.” I can barely speak. It's that simple, I guess. We all

got sad. “But don't worry, Mia. We can't be sad forever. It's no fun.” I sit with Keatie until she falls asleep. When I return to
the living room, Julian and Paloma are playing Uno. Julian and I go outside when the game is over.

“Some prom, huh,” Julian says, putting his arms around my waist and pulling me to him.

“Yeah. Pretty memorable.”

“Look, Meems, I'm sorry about what happened. I thought he'd sober up by the time we got to the dance.”

“Hey, you were just trying to make everybody happy. It's not your fault.”

“Yeah, but…I should've known.…”

“Let's not talk about it. Please.”

I suddenly feel tired.

“I think not talking about things is what got everyone into this situation in the first place.”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

He kisses me. A good one. A real prom night kind of kiss. And then, too soon, it's over.

“I like you a lot,” he says. “Thanks for being my date. Thank you for wearing that dress.”

“Thank you for noticing,” I tell him.

“I should've said something sooner…. I was so preoccupied with Al….”

“Yeah.” I yawn. “We all should have said something sooner.”

Julian looks uncomfortable. “It's late. We should call it a night.” He kisses me on the forehead, squeezes my hand. “I'll talk to you tomorrow.”

“If I make it through the night.”

“You'll be okay.”

“Good night.”

I say good night to Paloma and walk down the hall toward my room. When I pass Al's room, I expect to hear an argument in progress, but they are talking in soft voices. Without thinking, I open the door and walk in.

“Hi,” I say. “I just wanted to say good night.”

“Wait,” Mom says.

“Can't I please just go to bed and try to forget this night?”

“In a minute,” she says. She looks at me for a few seconds.

“You're not wearing the dress we bought.” Dad looks confused. “I'm wearing the dress I wanted to wear,” I say. “You look beautiful, Mia. Too grown-up, but beautiful.” “Thanks.” “But that doesn't mean it's okay to go sneaking around

and ignoring my rules. There's been too much of that going on in this house.” Dad pipes up, “Paloma liked Mia's dress so much, she

bought it in red.” “Yes, she did,” I say. “When did Paloma see your dress?” Mom asks. “A story for another day,” I tell her. “I'm going to bed.” “Okay. But we have a lot to discuss; tomorrow will be a big

day,” Mom says. “I can hardly wait,” I tell her. “Night, Meezer,” Allen groans from his bed. “Night, Al.”

T
HE NEXT MORNING, WE HAVE A FAMILY COUNCIL, JUST LIKE
some family on a cheesy TV show. Even Dad comes. Without Paloma. For a few minutes, I think Mom and Dad are going to tell us they aren't getting divorced anymore. They don't.

Instead, they tell us that we'll be going to therapy as a family for a while.

“We'd like you to help us out,” Dad says. “We'd like to know what you think we can do to make it so that we don't have more nights like last night.”

“I guess I need to learn to hold my alcohol,” Allen says.

“Allen. This is not a joke,” my dad warns him.

“Oh, actually, I think it is a joke. When the shit hits the fan, we're suddenly a family again? Is that how it works? This is new. When you guys decided to get a divorce, did you talk
to us? Did we have a council about how to fix you two? So now that you've screwed us up, you want to fix things? Why didn't you try that before?”

“We did try it.” My mom's voice cracks. “We decided the best way to fix things between us was to split up. I'm sorry that we left you out of that decision. We should have been more honest with you about what was going on, but we wanted to make things as easy as possible for you.”

“Well, it hasn't been easy,” he says, and he begins to cry. When Keatie sees this, she begins to sob; then my mom does; then I do. My dad looks on as if he wants to cry but can't find the tears.

Our family council ends in a loud, wet mess. But nobody is hurt, there is no vomit, there are no severed limbs. The fact that I am comforted by this is a little depressing. But at this point, I'll take what I can get.

P
OST–FAMILY COUNCIL
, I
GO TO
H
ALEY'S
.

When she opens the door, I blurt out, “Mike Hickenlooper likes you and he wanted to take you to prom.”

Haley doesn't look as surprised as I thought she would. “I know,” she says.

“You do?”

“Come in, you dork.”

We go to Haley's room, sit on her bed, and talk, kinda like we used to, only now things are a little weird between us.

“How did you know?” I ask her.

“Well, I didn't know for sure, but I figured when he started calling…”

“Oh… yeah.”

“How did you know?”

“Julian told me.”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

I play with a loose thread on her quilt, unsure of how to answer. I can't come up with anything but the truth. “Because I wanted you to go to the prom with Al, so that I could have my dream prom night and not have to worry about stuff.”

Haley nods and is quiet for a while.

“I'm sorry,” I tell her. “Really.”

“Mia, the thing is, the prom isn't a big deal, really. I can go out with Mike whenever. It's just that …” She looks at me. Her eyes are red and watery. “I need you sometimes, Meems. You know? I need to talk. I need to be listened to. I know you think I'm this superhuman who doesn't have any problems, and maybe I don't have any that are as big as yours, but I still have some. And lately, you've just kind of vanished, you know? You disappeared.”

“I didn't mean to,” I tell her. “But I didn't know what else to do.” “Well, you can't just stop talking and try to hide every

thing.” “I know.” “This is going to sound stupid, I know, but you really hurt

my feelings. Really.”

At that moment, it feels like we are kids again, for some reason. Like we are just learning how to be friends. Somehow, while I was working so hard to protect myself and my feelings, I
forgot about her feelings, and probably about everyone else's.

I think about my mom and dad and what my mom said about my dad's being a ghost, and I wonder if he was scared, too. If he forgot about everyone else and then just never remembered.

T
EN DAYS LATER WE ARE IN
L
ISZ'S OFFICE
. A
LL OF US: ME
, M
OM
, Dad, Keatie, and Allen.

“So,” Lisz starts, “I think the first thing we should do is discuss why each of you is here, what you hope to accomplish through attending therapy as a family.”

No one says anything.

“Why don't we start with the parents? Maggie? Russ? Would one of you care to begin?”

They start to speak at the same time.

“Well, I think we should start with…”

“I'd like to know what's been going on…”

“Russ, I hardly think you should be the one to start, given the fact that you spend maybe an hour a week with the kids.”

“This from the woman who didn't even know what her daughter was wearing to her prom?”

And so it begins. The healing process.

“Why don't I spend a few minutes with just the two of you first, before we bring the children into the discussion?” Lisz says.

“Great idea,” says Allen, already out of his chair.

“I want to stay,” Keatie says.

“See you guys later,” I say, pushing Keatie toward the door.

We wait and wait, but Lisz does not call us back in. When the hour is over, my parents come out, looking as if nothing has changed between them.

“We'll definitely be meeting all together next week,” Lisz tells us.

“I can't wait,” I mutter.

“And you'll still have your regular Thursday appointments, too,” she says, like she's telling me I just won fifty thousand dollars on
Jeopardy!

And the weird thing is, I'm relieved when she says this. It means it's okay if I don't have everything figured out. It means I am not a ghost, a serial killer, a head-on collision.