A Month of Mondays Read online

  “Green tea,” Caroline said.

  I made a “gross!” face at Jessica when Caroline wasn’t looking, and then I sat there smashing it with the back of my spoon, encouraging it to melt.

  “Did you make that scrapbook?” I asked Caroline.

  “Yep.”

  “When we were little?”

  “Nope. Last year.”

  So Uncle Bill was right…. She had been thinking about us sometimes. “You did a really good job.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I always wanted to try scrapbooking,” I said. “But all the supplies are kinda expensive.”

  “I have a lot leftover,” Caroline said. “You and Jess could have them.”

  “Really? Thanks.” I hoped she couldn’t hear how dis-appointed I was that she didn’t want to show me how herself.

  “Or we could do it together,” Caroline said. She wasn’t looking at me, and her voice sounded hopeful.

  I smiled. “Yeah. Okay. If you want.” I stirred my puddle of ice cream, and asked after a while: “So why do you have all the baby pictures?”

  “It was your father’s idea of a joke,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  Caroline was silent for a minute, the plastic smile plastered on her face. Her teeth were so perfect they didn’t look real. “Maybe we should drop it.”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t want to drop it.” I saw Jessica get up and kind of motion to the washroom as she made her way out of the living room fast. “What kind of a joke?”

  Caroline licked her spoon. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I’m asking you.”

  She sighed. “Fine. He sent them to me because he wanted your lives to start with the day I left, and he didn’t want any record of what came before that.”

  I studied my distorted face in the back of my spoon. “You’re right. That’s not much of a joke.”

  Chapter 28

  I lay in the huge, soft bed, gazing at a spot on the ceiling near the window. There was something weird about it, like bits of it were glowing in the dark. I squinted harder and then turned my head the other way. Some kind of iridescent squiggles. Weird.

  Jess and I had only been in bed about ten minutes, but she was already out cold. Her breathing was so quiet I half wondered if she was still alive. I turned over, trying to get comfortable. It seemed strange not to have springs poking me every time I moved around. I sunk into the fluffiness and wondered if I’d be able to sleep.

  Once, at the mall, Leigh and I had tried out all the beds in the bedding department while Amanda stood off to the side pretending not to know us. We weren’t doing anything. We were just lying around, but we still got kicked out. This bed reminded me of one of those mattresses, only even comfier.

  I tilted my head to the right and squinted at the spot on the ceiling some more. It almost looked like letters. Finally I couldn’t stand it, and I got up and stood underneath it. Now that the lights had been out for a while, it seemed to be fading, but finally I worked it out.

  Caroline Elizabeth McIntyre.

  She’d written her name up there in some sort of glow-paint. When? It seemed like kind of a weird thing to do as an adult. And it was her maiden name too. Was this her room when she was a kid? I wracked my brain but couldn’t remember her mentioning it.

  Shivers ran up my arms, but not because I’d finally seen a ghost or had an eerie feeling. It was freezing in here. I dove back into bed and stuck my head under the covers. I didn’t think I’d ever fall asleep, but the warmer I got, the drowsier I felt. The next thing I knew, I had to pee really badly, and the clock said six-thirty a.m.

  It was still pitch-black outside, but Caroline had left the washroom light on for us, and once I made it out into the hallway I could see a little better. I managed to make it to the bathroom and back without killing myself—although I did hit my hand on the metal radiator, which made a loud pinging noise. I fully expected my knuckle to be bruised in a few hours.

  Once I was awake there was no way I could get back to sleep. After a while I decided to go downstairs and look for some coffee. There wasn’t any food in the house, but I had noticed an espresso machine.

  I put my clothes on because I didn’t want Caroline to see my ratty old pajamas. At home I slept in shorty-shorts, but when you went to someone else’s house you kind of had to wear something that covered more. The old pair of flannel jammies that AJ had given me two years ago were obviously too small but were my only option.

  There weren’t any lights on the stairs, and every step creaked underfoot kind of creeping me out. No one was up except Caroline’s killer cat, who looked up from his dish mid-bite to glare at me.

  “I don’t trust you either,” I told him.

  Most of the cabinets had glass fronts, so it didn’t take me long to figure out that the espresso machine was for show, and there wasn’t any coffee anywhere. I did find about a dozen tins of David’s Tea in all different flavors, though. While I was contemplating whether or not to try some, Caroline came in.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Oh, hey.”

  “Sleep well?”

  “Yeah. Fine. Thanks.”

  I stared at her. It was six-forty in the morning and she was already in full makeup. Maybe she’d had it tattooed on or something. I recognized the blue velvet designer sweats and revoltingly expensive tennis shoes from our forage into her closet, but I didn’t say anything.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  “Not really,” I said. “I was looking for some coffee.”

  “It’s in the freezer. But let’s go out for some.”

  “Uh…okay.” I wondered if she was one of those women who hung out in cafés drinking lattes and talking on their cell phones with an earpiece in. I was pretty sure she was.

  “What about Jessica?” she asked.

  “Still in bed. I’ll go see if she wants to come along. And I have to get my coat.”

  “Right,” Caroline said. “We’ll bring her something if she’d rather sleep in.”

  I ran upstairs and touched Jess’s shoulder. She sat straight up. “What?”

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “Where am I?”

  “It’s me, Suze,” I told her. “We’re at Caroline’s, remember?”

  She flopped back on the bed. “Be still my beating heart,” she said. “You did startle and afright me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sorry,” I repeated.

  “What time is it?”

  “Six forty-five.”

  She moaned. “In the morning?”

  “Yeah, listen,” I said. “Go back to sleep. Caroline and I are going out for coffee, and we’ll bring you a hot chocolate.”

  “Around nine o’clock,” she mumbled.

  “Okay.”

  I looked halfheartedly for my shoes, but it was still too dark to see without turning on a light, and I didn’t want to bug Jess again. My slippers would have to do. They looked like ballet flats anyway. I snagged my coat out of the wardrobe and ran downstairs to Caroline. She was standing by the door, texting someone. For a brief second I wondered if maybe I could get on her phone plan. She probably had unlimited minutes. That would be so cool. But then I dropped the idea. I wasn’t sure what I wanted from Caroline, and until I figured it out, I wasn’t asking for anything.

  “Ready?”

  “Yep.”

  I followed her out the kitchen door. My breath froze in my throat, but Caroline didn’t seem to notice the cold. She wasn’t even wearing a coat, and I wondered for about the millionth time if she was totally crazy. And then she affirmed my suspicions by getting in the car.

  Oak Bay is coffee central. I would’ve bet good money (if I’d had any) that there were at least three coffee shops within a five-block radius of Caroline’s house. But she started t
he engine, and I climbed in. The place we drove to was kind of far away, so I figured it must be the best one or something.

  After ten minutes of looking for a parking spot, Caroline said, “I forgot that everyone who lives around here has to park on the street and they’re all probably still in bed. We’ll never find a place.” She headed back toward her house. “We’ll just leave the car at home and walk to my neighborhood coffee shop,” she told me.

  “Okay.”

  When we pulled into the driveway, it was getting light, the sky a dull gray with the promise of more rain. I started to get out, but Caroline put her hand on my arm. “Wait, Susan. There’s something important I have to tell you.”

  I froze in my seat. Oh, my God, she is dying. That’s why she’s back. I should’ve known it was something like that.

  “I wasn’t at work yesterday afternoon,” she said. “At least, not the whole time.”

  Okay. She isn’t dying. I let go of the breath I’d been holding.

  “I…well,” she said. “I want you to know this isn’t your fault. It’s totally me, okay?” I had no idea what she was talking about, but I nodded anyway. She nodded back, like we’d agreed on something. “I actually went to an emergency session with my therapist because right before you and Jess showed up, I had a panic attack.”

  “You have a therapist?”

  “Yes. A new one. A referral from my doctor in Vancouver. She’s very good.”

  I had no idea what to say to all this.

  “Anyway,” Caroline said. “I’m not explaining this very well because I’m nervous. But right before you showed up, I panicked, wondering if having you over was such a good idea. And also what we’d do together for so long.”

  I smiled at her. “If it makes you feel any better,” I said. “I thought the same thing.”

  She smiled back. “Yeah. It does make me feel better. But I still wanted to apologize for taking off like that. It’s something I’m working on. Can you forgive me?”

  I nodded again. “Sure. No problem.”

  “Good. Thanks, Susan.” We sat there for a beat, neither of us saying anything, and then Caroline said, “Okay…how about that coffee?”

  “Sounds good.”

  We got out of the car and started walking. About four blocks from her house, we stopped outside a corner café. Caroline said, “I almost never come here because the workers are always high, and it takes them years to make a coffee.” I started laughing, and she smirked and did the one-eyebrow thing. “It’s true.”

  Caroline played it safe and ordered a plain coffee, black and oily, which she served herself from a pump pot. Then we stood around waiting forever, while they made my double latte with caramel and extra whipped cream, something I can never afford when I’m paying. I also got two blueberry muffins. One for me, one for Jessica. I skipped the hot chocolate because I knew it’d be cold by the time she woke up.

  After the guy with half-closed, red-rimmed eyes handed me my drink, we looked around for a seat, but the tables were either occupied or covered in dirty dishes, and Caroline asked me if I wanted to go for a walk, instead. I said yes, in spite of my slippers, and stuck a muffin in each coat pocket, which made them bulge, like when I stuff my winter gloves in them.

  The way I figured it, if we were walking, maybe the talking wouldn’t be so awkward. At first all we did was stroll along, not speaking, sipping our drinks, me trying to avoid puddles. There were about ten thousand things I wanted to ask Caroline, and they hung over us like the encroaching fog. I didn’t know anything about her, really. I didn’t even know what she did for a living except that it was something at a bank. And there was that Walker guy. What had happened to her husband? I knew he had died, but how? Why did she move back to Victoria? Was she rich, or did she pretend to be rich? And what about that house?

  That one I could ask her.

  “I was wondering about the house,” I said.

  She sipped her drink and I noticed her lipstick didn’t come off on the cup like mine always does. I’ll have to get some of that, whatever it is. Of course, hers probably didn’t come from the dollar store.

  “What about it?” she asked.

  “Well, I…is that your house? I mean, do you own it?”

  She glanced over at me and I could tell I’d surprised her. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe you were renting it or something.”

  She did that half-smile-scrunchy-forehead puzzled thing. “Susan, don’t you remember the house?”

  Now I was the one who was confused. “Me? Why should I?”

  “We lived there when you were little,” she told me.

  “What? We did? Are you serious?” This was news to me. Was my memory really that bad? We’d stopped on a corner to wait for the crosswalk to change, and a couple of people pushed around us, jaywalking.

  “It was my parents’ house,” she explained, looking straight ahead. “I grew up there.”

  Aha…. That explained her name written on the ceiling in glow-in-the-dark paint. And also Tracie had said she remembered a house and was surprised I didn’t. Now that finally made sense. The light changed, and we walked on. “When did we live there?” I asked.

  “After your grandparents died the house came to me, and we all moved in,” she said. “You’d just turned two.”

  Should I admit I didn’t even know how they’d died? If I ever wanted to find out, I’d have to. “How did they…what happened to them?” I asked.

  We’d walked right into a big line of people, who were waiting outside a diner, and it took a minute to get through them and meet up on the other side. “Their car was hit by a drunk driver,” Caroline said when I caught up to her.

  “Oh.”

  A warm flush of anger rushed through me, starting at the roots of my trashed hair and pouring into my heart and brain. For a minute I thought I was mad at the drunk driver. And then maybe at Caroline for not telling me sooner, but then, even with my blood boiling I knew that wasn’t rational, and my anger was actually directed at Dad. I didn’t know anything about anything, and it was all his fault.

  Caroline might have been a miserable parent, she might have abandoned us and left us to fend for ourselves, and she might have ditched our father, but he should’ve told us stuff. After all, she was our mother. We had a right to know. Maybe if he’d explained things, important things, then Tracie wouldn’t be so mad at Caroline. And if Tracie wasn’t so angry, I wouldn’t have to choose between everyone I loved and possibly having a mom too.

  Chapter 29

  Things were pretty tense in the apartment after I spent the night at Caroline’s. Dad kept trying to buddy up to me, watching sports at home all evening, instead of at Uncle Bill’s—even though he had a big-screen TV, and we didn’t. Tracie, of course, still wasn’t speaking to me. I tried not to let it bother me, but it did. I missed her.

  I couldn’t worry about it for long, though because the presentation had taken over my life. It was now Monday and we didn’t have much time left to perfect it. Amanda and I had just run through it again for Baker, which is why I was still at school half an hour after the last bell rang.

  Again.

  Voluntarily.

  We had to stop meeting this way.

  Baker brushed his hands together, and at first I thought he was applauding us. I was about to take a big bow, but then I saw it was just that gesture people make when something is finished, and I straightened up fast.

  “Well, girls, I need to wrap this up,” he said. “But I think you have a very solid presentation and you’ll be great at the meeting tomorrow night.”

  “So we’re gonna get an A?” I asked, grinning up at him.

  “Not if you use words like gonna,” he said, smiling back. I laughed. I knew he was joking around. Half-joking, anyway. He walked us to the door of the classroom. �
��Girls,” he said, stopping us, “I just want you to prepare yourselves.”

  “That’s what we’ve been doing,” I said.

  He shifted on his feet like something was wrong, and he didn’t want to say it. “What I mean is…the thing is, you’ve done a very thorough job, but I don’t want you two to get your hopes up. It’s probably not going to go your way.”

  “That’s what my mom says, too,” Amanda said.

  “You mean they’re really going to get rid of the jan—custodians?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, I think they will. It’s all about the bottom line.”

  Well that just sucked. Not only did we do all this work, but we still had to present it, even though we knew we’d lose and the custodians would get fired. We had to convince them. But how?

  “We need something else,” I said to Amanda as we walked down the hall to our lockers. “Something good…proof that getting rid of the union custodians and replacing them with subcontractors is a really bad idea.”

  “We’ll just have to present what we have and hope for the best,” she said.

  “I want to win this fight,” I insisted. “Don’t you?”

  Amanda shrugged. “Yeah, but face it, Suze. We’re probably not going to. If we could’ve gotten an adult to take our side or something, maybe. But I don’t see what else we can do.”

  An adult? An adult…think, Suze. Think. Dad? No. AJ? She’s pretty forceful. And then I remembered Trina Blevins. Of course! AJ’s neighbor. She was the only one who could help us. We had to have her.

  I checked my pockets for change. Nothing. “Can I borrow a couple of bucks?” I asked Amanda.

  “You still owe me five from last week.”

  “I know, but this is important. It’s for bus fare,” I told her. “I’m going to head over to AJ’s and Uncle Bill’s and see if I can talk Mrs. Blevins into helping us after all.”

  “Good luck with that,” she said, clearly not convinced I could do it. She pulled out her wallet, anyway and gave me exact change for the bus.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I’ll work it off cleaning your room.”