“Hello, hello!” Maggie chirped, coming in the door side into the kitchen. Matt glowered down at the book, getting angrier at the happy sound of her voice. “Anybody home?”
“Living room!” I told her.
Maggie walked into the living room, her big canvas bag hanging off her arm, and she pushed her oversized sunglasses up on her head. She looked like she had spent the day at the beach, and I imagined that’s what she had planned for her cover story. I’m sure she could sense the tension in the room, but she had expected that from Matt no matter when she returned, so she smiled brightly at me, trying to play it off as a cheery afternoon.
“I heard you were visiting Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane,” I smiled at her, referencing the nuthouse from Batman.
“Oh, she’s not like that,” Maggie replied, sounding deflated. Her smile instantly disappeared, and she dropped any pretense of being happy. Matt scoffed loudly at Maggie’s minor defense of our mother, but she ignored him.
“I don’t know why you always do this. You freak out on me, insisting that Wendy can’t know where I’m at, but then you always tell her, and you’re way more upset by it than she is!”
“Because you shouldn’t be seeing her!” Matt shouted fiercely and tossed his book down on the table. He rarely raised his voice in anger, so when he did, it was kind of a stunning thing.
“Matt, I’ve gone over this with you a thousand times.” Maggie rubbed her forehead and looked down at the floor. “She is sick, and she is family.”
“She is your ex-sister-in-law!” Matt growled, not for the first time.
Maggie was our father’s only sister, and with Dad dead, Matt was always quick to point out that she had no real relationship with our mother.
“We don’t abandon family!” Maggie retorted vehemently.
“She is not family!” Matt bellowed and got to his feet. There were only two things they ever argued about: me and Mom. I suppose those were only two things in life that Matt was really passionate about, for entirely different reasons. “Once you try to kill someone in the family, you’re out!”
“She is sick, Matt!” Maggie was almost pleading with him to understand, but it was completely pointless.
We had heard every clinical diagnosis of Mom, every attempt at explaining her psychotic break. Doctors rationally and repeatedly explained to me how none of this was my fault, although to be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever fully believe that. I do not think I did that anything merited a murder attempt, but I’m pretty sure that if I hadn’t been such a brat growing up, I wouldn’t have drove her to it.
At any rate, nothing had ever satisfied Matt. For some reason, I had never been that curious about why Mom did it. I’ve been curious about her, wondering what life was like for Matt and everyone else that lived with her. But as for her motives, they never seemed that relevant or that blurred. She was fragile, and I was volatile. She was on the edge, and I pushed her. Maybe Matt’s problem was that he refused to believe that I had any part of what happened, so he was left with only half a story, and that was never good enough for him.
“You were there, Maggie! You saw her!” His voice had that quavering edge to it. He didn’t cry, not ever, but his pain was always so transparent. “You saw what she was like and what she tried to do! You of all people know what she’s really like!”
“Yes, Matt, I was there! I saw how crazy she was!” Maggie looked at him incredulously.
“We’re making a new start here!” I interjected, and Matt looked down at the coffee table. I had a feeling he’d momentarily forgotten I was there, and he was ashamed that he had brought up anything about Mom. “Maybe we should… Maybe Mom should stay in the past.”
Truth be told, I didn’t care one way or another if Maggie saw Mom.
She could visit her every day, and it wouldn’t bother me at all. I had never felt any connection to that woman, not before she tried to kill me and certainly not after. I’d have felt about the same if Maggie drove to visit Jeffery Dahmer or something. What bothered me was how upset Matt got.
“I respect your feelings,” Maggie said as carefully as she could. “But I don’t think that I can just abandon her.”
Maggie eyed me up regretfully, and Matt could barely contain his emotions. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, and his eyes had this weird misty quality to them. I couldn’t stand it. In my mind, I started begging Maggie to just let it alone. Matt couldn’t take it anymore. Just please don’t see Mom anymore, please, please, please. I looked at Maggie directly, pleading with her with my eyes, and her expression changed. It went from being apologetically resolute to something sorta foggy. Her eyes had gone blank and her face went lacks.
“I think I’ll stop seeing your mom,” Maggie said softly, almost questioning. I let out a heavy sigh of relief, and she shook her head, clearing it of whatever she was thinking. Her change of heart had happened too quickly for Matt to let go of his anger, but Maggie gave him an easy smile. “Sorry about all that. I guess I should probably get supper started.” She gave me a slightly bewildered look and shook her head again. “The drive must’ve gotten to me.
Um, Wendy, I picked you up some of that sticky rice you love. I think I’ll make that.”
“Alright, that sounds good,” I nodded.
After she went into the kitchen to make supper, Matt excused himself to go downstairs, where he had his home gym set up. I heard Verdi Requiem blasting out through the floorboards a few minutes later, meaning he had a lot more steam to blow off. He’d probably stay down there working through it until supper was ready.
I picked up Roman Architecture off the table and felt the familiar twinge of guilt as I leafed through it. Matt would’ve loved to travel Europe and study, but that would’ve meant leaving me behind, so he never could. As it was, Matt’s high school and college grades had severely suffered because of his constant moving to follow me. Both he and Maggie thought it was in my best interest to go to the best schools, and while those were usually boarding schools, I had never lived in a dorm. They had always assumed that I would completely selfdestruct without their supervision. Matt could’ve lived on campus at other places, but he thought I would destruct without him in particular.
Matt never held a job, not a real one, because we moved so much. He has a degree and completed an internship, but then we had to move. And move again. Maggie used to be a child psychologist but she hasn’t worked since I was like eight or nine, when she finally gave up on the whole thing. I get kicked out of school, we transfer, and everyone starts over again. I have been completely ruining their lives, and I cannot wait until I’m eighteen and on my own and I can finally let them live their lives in peace.
Cafeteria food is a plague on mankind, I’m certain of it. I’ve been to some of the classiest schools in the country, and still found very little that I’d be willing to eat. Sometimes I’m surprised I don’t starve to death. All I can taste is salt and preservatives and vomit. I had gotten a tray because I was absolutely famished, but as soon as I started pushing it down the tray line, I felt that familiar wave of nausea as I was forced to smell everything.
“Generally, people, you know, get food here,” Patrick commented. He had grabbed a tray right behind me, and he was watching as I slid past all the offerings (macaroni and “cheese,” pizza, mashed potatoes, canned corn) without taking any.
“I find that hard to believe,” I scoffed. Patrick had loaded up on the macaroni and pizza, but turned down the corn. But he was over six foot and growing, so none of that would show on his waistline.
“You’re not one of those anorexic girls, are you?” Patrick asked, eyeing me up sincerely.
“No, I am definitely not one of those girls!” I shook my head. We had reached the end of the line where they had a few sorry looking lettuce leafs, a bowl of oranges, and red Jell-o cubes. Luckily, my love for Jell-o is Biblical and I loaded up my plate. “But if I was, I probably wouldn’t tell you.”
“Wait.” Patrick thought this over for a minute as I grabbed a bottled water. “Is that your way of telling me that you really are?”
“Nope. I’m not. I’m just saying that when you ask questions like that, you’re usually gonna get the same answer no matter what,” I said. I fumbled in my pocket for the money I owed the cashier, and Patrick narrowed his eyes at me. “When you ask someone if they’re a liar or if they stole that or if they cheated on you. Everybody is always gonna say no, whether they did it or not.
Asking the question doesn’t get you anywhere.”
“I sorta feel like I should make you eat a Big Mac now to prove me wrong.” Patrick took his turn paying the cashier, and I waited for him.
We had been sitting together during lunch the last week or so at school, and that still felt odd to me. I had eaten lunch by myself almost my entire school career. Normally, we sat at a little round table in the corner of the room, underneath a banner for the football team. We were all team spirit.
“Hey, Wendy, wait,” Patrick stopped me when I started heading over to our table. “Let’s sit somewhere else.” Our table was empty, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with it, so I didn’t understand the sudden decision to move tables.
“Okay. Where?” I shrugged.
“How about… over there.” Patrick nodded to the opposite side of the room, but there weren’t any tables open. I scanned the crowd, trying to figure out who he’d want to be sitting with… but then I figured it out. Finn had glanced up at me.
“Seriously?” I scoffed. “You wanna sit with him?”
“Come on, Wen.” Patrick looked at me imploringly, and then looked over at where Finn was sitting by himself, opening his bottle of water. “He’s all alone, and he looks so forlorn.”
“No, he doesn’t. He looks thirsty,” I watched Finn take a long drink of water.
“You know how much it sucks being the new kid,” Patrick insisted.
“Are you like the welcome wagon or something?” I scowled at him. By the expression he was giving me, I knew I’d have little choice in the matter if I wanted to continue a friendship with him. And for some stupid reason, I really did. I exhaled loudly, my sign of defeat, and Patrick grinned broadly. “He’s so creepy, though.”
“He is not.” Patrick had started walking over to the table, so I followed reluctantly after him. “And you know what? I think thou dost protest too much.”
“I know that’s Shakespeare, but I can’t tell how that applies here,” I grumbled.
“You know exactly how that applies here,” Patrick flashed me a knowing look, and I felt my cheeks flush for a second. Maybe I liked Finn more than I was willing to let on, and I definitely didn’t appreciate Patrick catching onto that.