A Month of Mondays Page 5

  “Hello? Susan? Are you there?”

  No speak English. No Speak English.

  The trouble was, I didn’t really speak Japanese either. With Tamaki for a last name, people expected me to know it, which is actually kind of racist. I mean, Dad’s family’s been here since the nineteen-thirties. Besides, I’m only half-Japanese anyway, because Caroline’s white. Dad and Uncle Bill are so Canadian, they always joke that they even say sushi with a Canadian accent. As in, “Do you want to get some sushi, eh?”

  “Susan,” Caroline said. “Look, I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing.”

  No, you can’t.

  I held the phone away from my mouth. It’s probably my heart pounding. I wondered how she knew it was me and not my sister. Maybe Tracie had already hung up on her a few thousand times. Why didn’t I hang up?

  “Susan, I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. I really want to talk with you and Tracie.”

  Ha. That’s a good one. I could wake Tracie up so she could kill me now and put me out of my misery.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called,” she said, when I still refused to speak. “Maybe you can phone me when you feel more like talking. Your dad’s got the number.”

  Whatever.

  “Okay, Susan. I’m going to hang up now. Tell Tracie I called. And I’m sorry it worked out this way.”

  Me too.

  “Susan?”

  “What?”

  Oh, man. I said it out loud. Now she knew for sure I’d been listening.

  “I hope to hear from you soon.”

  The phone clicked in my ear.

  Dad’s door opened and he shuffled out, wrapped in his black robe and the slippers I’d gotten him three Christmases ago. His big toe poked out through the end of the left one. I made a mental note to get him a new pair this year.

  “Don’t tell me that was your mother calling.”

  “No. It was Caroline.”

  “Touché,” he said.

  I stomped back down the hall to our room and jumped into bed, hiding under the warm covers. My feet were cherry Popsicles—bright red and frozen solid.

  “Was it for me?” mumbled Tracie.

  “Shut up.”

  She rolled over and went back to sleep.

  After a while I was too cranky to lie there, and I could smell coffee, so I put on my thick wool socks and wrapped my flannel robe tightly around me against the chill. In the kitchen I poured myself a cup of coffee, slopped in some milk, and dumped a ton of sugar into it. The only way I like it. I’m mostly in it for the caffeine. I slurped my drink while I waited for a waffle to toast.

  “Not fishing today?” I asked Dad.

  “No fish anymore,” he mumbled from the couch.

  “Never stopped you before.”

  He didn’t bother to answer. The waffle popped up and I grabbed it, burning myself. What a great start to what promised to be a fantastic day. The tears welled up in my eyes, even though my finger didn’t really hurt. What was wrong with me? I never cry.

  When Leigh ruined my hair—giving me big orange streaks instead of the cool blue ones she’d promised—I didn’t cry. And when the guy I kind of liked, Spencer, asked me to the Fall Fling and then wouldn’t dance with me because of my weird hair, no one could tell I cared because I’d laughed it off. Crying was not my thing.

  So why was I wimping out now over a stupid little burn?

  “Dad?”

  “Hmmm?”

  He rustled behind the sports page a little but didn’t glance up. He looked kind of sad sitting on the couch, black hair sticking out, his old stadium blanket wrapped around him, coffee in one hand, and the newspaper spread everywhere. It made me feel lonely for him.

  “What do you think Caroline wants?” I asked.

  “God only knows.”

  There was that frozen tone again that felt like ice water in my stomach. “Do you think she’ll stick around this time?”

  “Ask me something I can answer. Like what time the tide comes in.”

  I shoved his feet out of the way and plopped down next to him. “Do you think I should see her?”

  “I told you, Suze, I don’t care. I don’t even know Caroline anymore. I haven’t talked to her in ten years. I wouldn’t have recognized her on the street.”

  “You mean the blond hair?”

  “Well, yeah. Especially that. But the jewelry and the fingernails and the makeup. She never wore any of that.”

  “I hope you’re not trying to talk us into seeing Caroline,” Tracie shouted from behind us. I jumped about a mile and lukewarm coffee splashed into my lap. I hadn’t even heard her get up.

  “When’s the last time I told either of you what to do?” Dad asked, his voice sounding world-weary.

  “Maybe you’d like a date with her?” Tracie suggested, coming around the couch to face us. “Huh? Doesn’t sound so good, does it?” Dad picked up the Sports section again. “I didn’t think so,” she practically snarled. “You’re such a hypocrite.”

  Tracie stormed off, slamming the washroom door behind her.

  “Why don’t you mind your own business?” I yelled after her. “He never said we should see her.”

  “Just leave her alone,” Dad told me.

  “If you get a chair,” I said, “I’ll lock her in there.”

  Dad scowled into his paper, but I could tell he wasn’t really listening to me. Maybe he was thinking about Caroline. Would he really date her? God! I never even thought of that. I tried to imagine us a happy little family. Caroline would come in and redecorate, get rid of all our old comfortable furniture. Maybe she’d even make us move. I’d have to go to a different school. I’d be the new girl and everyone would stare at me.

  The coffee sloshed around in my stomach, trying to work its way back up. I handed the peanut butter-coated waffle to Dad, who took it absently and munched it down in three bites. The ringing of the phone broke the silence and the queasiness in my gut increased.

  I jumped up and raced across the room to the kitchen, grabbing the handset before Tracie could come out of the washroom, and clicked talk.

  “What!” I said.

  “Suze?” Caroline asked.

  Instead of answering, I screamed into the phone, “Why can’t you just leave us alone already?” and smashed my finger on the End Call button.

  And then I realized the woman had said “Suze.”

  Caroline always called me Susan.

  Dang.

  It had been Aunt Jenny on the phone.

  I was in trouble now.

  Chapter 8

  Apologies for rude behavior don’t fly with Aunt Jenny. Nope. You have to work off your crime, which is how I found myself raking leaves instead of cruising the mall that afternoon. I’d had two choices. I could make Amanda mad by telling her I couldn’t meet up to do our survey about janitors, or I could really aggravate AJ and refuse her request that I get my unrefined, unmannered butt over to her house and help with the yard work. Guess who scares me more?

  Aunt Jenny is soft and round, which might make some people think she’s one of those sweet motherly women who love children. I’ve known her too long to be fooled. It’s not that she’s a kid-hater or anything. AJ is a BS-hater though, and as far as she’s concerned, most kids are out to snow adults. She’s probably basing a lot of her experience on me.

  Dad had to work until five, Uncle Bill was watching golf on the big screen in the basement, the kitchen was full of good smells from AJ’s cooking, and as usual, Tracie got off by volunteering at some hockey camp for underprivileged kids. She’d show up in time for dinner, though. You could bet on it.

  After twenty-three blisters and about ten piles of leaves, AJ came outside and handed me a cup of steaming apple cider and a slice of fresh, warm bread slathered with butter. She l
owered her round bottom heavily onto the porch steps and I collapsed next to her.

  “Wanna tell me why you were so rude this morning?” she asked.

  “I thought you were Caroline.”

  “And that’s how you talk to your mother?”

  “She’s not my mother.” I chewed on the bread. Butter rushed my taste buds, coating them with deliciousness. “It was Tracie,” I said, after a while. I had to phrase this carefully because if AJ thought I was blaming someone else for my behavior, I’d be in even more trouble. “She was freaking me out, saying Dad and Caroline should get back together.”

  AJ’s face showed her surprise. “She wasn’t serious.”

  I told AJ the whole story, and when I was done she stood up, brushed off her butt, and started to go into the house. “I wouldn’t worry about that little scenario,” she said.

  “Hey, AJ?”

  She waited.

  “Did you like my mother?”

  “I think you should make your own decisions about Caroline,” she said, and her voice was as icy as Dad’s.

  “Why does everyone hate her so much?” I asked.

  “Who said we hate her?” She had her hand on the screen door.

  “AJ, wait,” I jumped up. “Look, I can tell she must’ve done something I don’t remember, because you guys are all acting so weird. What’d she do?”

  AJ took in a long, slow breath, and let it out just as slowly. “She walked away without any explanation.” AJ went inside, letting the screen door slam behind her.

  That was it? That’s why everyone was so mad? Jeez. I was beginning to think Caroline had killed someone. She’d probably meant to explain. How many times have I meant to explain why I did something stupid, but then the moment slipped by? Too many to count.

  I went back out to the yard and picked up the instrument of torture, dragging it around behind me, not really raking because my hands hurt. My heart kind of did too. What Caroline had done totally sucked, but now she was back. Maybe she’d changed. I kind of understood where my family was coming from, but why did they have to be so rigid?

  I dug around in my pocket until I found the scrap of paper that I’d secretly written Caroline’s number on. I’d used all my minutes on my phone and didn’t have any money for more, so I’d have to be sneaky. Carefully, quietly, stealthily, I cracked open the heavy back door. The warmth and the wonderful smells of hot bread and vegetable soup filled my nostrils as I crept into the kitchen to use the phone.

  I dialed the number.

  Ring.

  Ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Caroline?” I said. “It’s me, Suze.”

  “Oh, Susan. I’m so glad you finally called.”

  “Yeah….” Wait! Was that AJ coming? I looked around for a place to hide. There was the laundry room, but she might be going in there. I chose the broom closet. It wasn’t a mess like ours, but it was pretty full, and the only way to close the door was if I crammed myself into the mop bucket. I stepped into it and shut the door as quietly as I could, standing there in the dark. It wasn’t until the water seeped through my tennis shoes that I realized the pail had about four inches in the bottom of it. Crap.

  “Susan?” Caroline’s voice came through the telephone. “Are you still there?” She’d been talking the whole time, but I hadn’t heard anything she’d said.

  “Yeah,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

  “Everything okay?” AJ’s slippers slapped against the hardwood as she walked past. I didn’t dare answer. “Susan?” Caroline asked again. “What’s going on?”

  The footsteps faded. “What? Uh…nothing. Everything’s fine.”

  “Okay, well…great.”

  “So…”

  “I was thinking…would you and Tracie like to have dinner with me next Friday?”

  “Dinner?”

  “Yes. Around seven?”

  “Uh…okay.” Was I crazy? I guess so. “But just me. Tracie’s…busy.”

  “All right. I’ll pick you up.”

  “Okay.”

  We said good-bye and hung up, but I stood there completely frozen. My heart raced, practically humming. Sweat dripped under my arms. I’d agreed to dinner with Caroline. I couldn’t decide if it was the bravest thing I’d ever done, or the stupidest.

  I was so absorbed by my thoughts that when the door suddenly opened and the closet was flooded with light, I jumped, letting out a little scream. AJ yelped and clutched her chest. Once we’d both recovered a little, I stepped out of the bucket, dripping water everywhere.

  “What the—”

  “Sorry. Sorry,” I said. I grabbed the mop and tried to clean up the mess.

  AJ stared at me, her hands on her hips. “Suze? What were you doing in there?”

  “Nothing,” I said, not looking at her. “I just…I was making a phone call.”

  “To whom?”

  “To…to…a boy.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Does he have a name?”

  “Uh….” I said the first one I could think of. “Brendan. I know him from school.” Hopefully Amanda would never bring her boyfriend around. Or mention him to AJ.

  “You want to try the truth?” AJ asked.

  I don’t know how she knew, but under her dark stare I totally caved. “Okay. Fine. I was talking to Caroline. She’s taking me to dinner.”

  AJ’s eyes narrowed so much I wasn’t sure she could even see me anymore. “When? Tonight?”

  “No. Next Friday.”

  She studied me for a moment longer, and then her face relaxed and she brushed her hands together. “Huh. Well, you better clean up this mess. And then it’s time for lunch.”

  That was it? I’d told her I was going out to dinner with Caroline and that’s all she had to say about it? There was no way she’d just let it go at that. And then panic surged through me. Tracie!

  “Uh…AJ?” I called after her.

  “What?”

  “Could you…could you not tell Tracie?”

  She rubbed her hand over her left eye like I was giving her a pain. “And why not?”

  “Because she’ll kill me?”

  She nodded. “Fair enough.” And then she walked off.

  I leaned against the wall, shaky. What had I done?

  ^^^

  By the time Dad and Tracie showed up for dinner and we’d all sat down around AJ and Uncle Bill’s dining-room table, I was sick to my stomach. AJ had made my favorite—salmon with blackberry-garlic sauce, scalloped potatoes, asparagus, and salad—but I took only a few spoonfuls of each dish. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything. I was pretty sure if I put even one bite into my mouth, I might lose the lunch I’d forced down earlier under AJ’s steady gaze. By now I was pretty sure just the idea of going to dinner with Caroline would kill me before Friday. And that’s assuming Tracie didn’t find out and do the deed herself first.

  Everyone talked and laughed and ate so much they didn’t notice me sitting there like a lump, pushing my food around on my plate. Tracie told them all about the hockey clinic she’d volunteered at, and Dad and Uncle Bill added stories about when they’d done the same thing in high school.

  Everything was going fine, and except for some sidelong glances from AJ, I don’t think anyone was paying attention to me and my lack of appetite. My stomach was churning, but I still managed to get down most of my food after all. We’d just about finished when Uncle Bill cleared his throat and looked around the table at everyone.

  “So…I hear Caroline’s back in town.”

  We all froze, like we’d been hit with one of those stunning spells in Harry Potter. And then AJ jumped up. “Time for dessert,” she said. “Suze? Help me, please.”

  I scrambled out of my seat and started grabbing dishes randomly. If they were going to talk about Caroline, I wanted
to be safely in the kitchen and out of the way.

  “What?” Uncle Bill said, looking around at us. “Isn’t she? We’re not allowed to talk about her?”

  AJ gave him a look, and he shut up. I grabbed a few more plates than it was safe to carry and followed AJ to the kitchen. When we came back with the apple crumble, Tracie was glaring at Uncle Bill. I wasn’t sure what we’d missed, but I was glad we had.

  “No,” she said. “We’re not going to see her.”

  “Is that the ‘royal we’, or are you speaking for Suze, too?” he asked. I wondered what he knew about my phone call earlier. I should’ve made AJ promise not to tell anyone.

  “We signed a pact,” Tracie told Uncle Bill, smugness all over her face. “Besides, Suze doesn’t want to see her either.”

  “Is that true?” Uncle Bill asked me.

  “Uh—”

  “Can we drop this?” Dad asked.

  “Yeah, I’m losing my appetite,” Tracie said.

  “If you don’t want to see her,” Uncle Bill said to Tracie, “that’s fine. But Suze should be able to make up her own mind.”

  “Bill,” Dad said. “They’re my girls. I’ll deal with it. Drop it, already.”

  “I just don’t want to see Tracie bullying Suze the way you did me,” Uncle Bill replied.

  “I never bullied you,” Dad told him, his voice raised. “It was the other way around.”

  For a second I thought they might start yelling, but then Uncle Bill laughed. “Oh, yeah, right! What about the time you—”

  I stopped listening. I couldn’t help wondering why Uncle Bill stood up for me like that. Usually he was pretty laid back; didn’t get into family squabbles unless they were sports related. The rest of the night passed in a blur—more stories about when they were kids, everyone watching the hockey scores on the big screen downstairs, banter and teasing, the usual. As we were putting on our coats to go, Uncle Bill pulled me aside and gave me a hug.