Читать книгу Happy Endings Are All Alike - Sandra Scoppettone - Страница 7

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Even though Jaret Tyler had no guilt or shame about her love affair with Peggy Danziger she knew there were plenty of people in this world who would put it down. Especially in a small town like Gardener’s Point, a hundred miles from New York City. She and Peggy didn’t go around wearing banners, but there were some people who knew.

Like Jaret’s mother, Kay. Of course, Kay was an unusual woman, particularly for Gardener’s Point. But even though Jaret and Kay were open and honest with each other, Jaret wasn’t sure she would have told her about Peggy if Kay hadn’t found out for herself. Sometimes Jaret still remembered that day and the first wave of shock when, over breakfast, Kay said:

“So, would Cree Cree like more bacon?”

Oh, wow! Obviously, Kay knew. What would happen now? Whatever it was, Jaret decided before saying anything, she was not going to give up Peggy . . . ever.

“What do you mean?” she asked, stalling.

“I mean,” Kay said, lighting her fifth cigarette of the morning, “I know.”

“Know?”

“Oh, Jaret, please.”

Jaret waved the smoke away and tried swallowing her homemade granola, which felt like shotgun pellets in her mouth.

“Sorry,” Kay said, making a fan with her napkin.

“I wish you wouldn’t smoke so much.”

“Don’t try and change the subject. I know about Cree Cree and Char.”

“Char,” she said automatically, pronouncing the ch as in charge.

“All right. Char. Honestly, Jaret, couldn’t you do any better?”

Jaret wanted to die from embarrassment. They had gotten the names from a dumb movie called Home in Indiana made in the forties. They had watched it on a rainy Saturday afternoon and rolled on the floor laughing over it. This really insipid actress named Jeanne Crain was Char and somebody else named June Haver was Cree Cree and an awful goony boy named Lon McCallister was Sparky. The whole thing had just broken them up and from then on they’d started calling each other those names. Jaret was Cree Cree and Peggy was Char. And Jaret knew she would never have told her mother about their private names for each other even if she’d chosen to tell her about their love affair. Some things you just didn’t tell anyone. The only way her mother could have known about the nicknames was to have read Peggy’s love letters; love letters Jaret kept hidden in the back of her sock drawer.

“You creep,” she said, “you read them.”

“I was wondering when you’d realize that.” Kay ran a hand through her black curly hair, something she always did when she was nervous. “What can I say, kid? I’m guilty. I didn’t mean to . . . Well, I did mean to once I saw them. There’s no point in pretending they jumped into my hands and etched their words on my eyeballs by themselves, is there?”

“No, there isn’t.”

“No, I didn’t think so. But I wasn’t snooping—honest, Jare.”

“You just wanted a pair of my socks to wear on your ears, right?”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Kay said, stubbing out her cigarette.

“Try me.”

“I was looking for my Q-tips.”

“You know what, Mom? You’re right—I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true . . . really.”

Jaret stared at her, waiting to see if her mouth twitched to the right. If it did, she was lying. Foolproof evidence. Jaret counted to ten and Kay’s full mouth stayed quiet. Innocent.

“Okay, I believe you. But what made you look in my sock drawer for the Q-tips?”

“I looked everywhere . . . I thought I’d go mad.” She poured a cup of coffee, offered another one to Jaret, who refused. “I finally found them. In the medicine cabinet,” she said sheepishly.

“Oh, Mom.”

“It is definitely a conspiracy. The inanimate objects in the world are trying to take over. They do it all the time. You know that.”

Jaret nodded. She’d heard this tirade before. It was one of Kay’s favorite theories.

“You put a pencil down, turn around for a second, look back and it’s gone. Gone! You spend five, ten minutes looking where you put it, turn around again, look back and there it is! It’s their plot to drive humans crazy.”

“Mom, I know about that plot,” Jaret said patiently. “Do you want to talk about the letters or not?”

“I do. Look, first let me say that I’m sorry I read them—I mean, I know I violated your space and all that but I’m human. At least if they’d been in envelopes I wouldn’t have seen the salutation. I never would have opened an envelope, Jaret. You know that, don’t you?”

“I suppose, but that doesn’t make it any better, Mom.”

“I know. I just thought I’d try. Well, anyway, I saw this bunch of papers and one sort of fell open and there was this ‘Dear, sweet Cree Cree.’ I mean, come on, kid, who could resist?”

“An honorable, decent, mature person.”

“Right.” She shrugged. “I guess that leaves me out.”

“But it doesn’t, Mom. You’ve always been that. That’s why I’ve always liked you.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry I failed you. I couldn’t help it. I had to know.”

“Okay, okay. So now you know. Just what do you know?” Jaret quickly began to calculate whether she would admit to everything or not.

“For openers, I know that Char is Peggy Danziger.”

“And?”

Kay took a cigarette from her pack, made big flourishes tapping it, even though it was filtered, struck a match which fizzled, struck another which worked and then took a long drag. “I guess I know that you’re . . . ” She gestured futilely. “Are you?”

“Am I what?” Jaret certainly wasn’t going to beat around the bush if they were going to talk about it.

“I mean, Jaret, are you and Peggy . . . you know?”

“Yes, I do know. What we’re trying to find out here is if you know.”

“Are you a lawyer, or what?”

“Not yet.” Someday she would be—no question.

“Oh, God! Are you and Peggy lovers?”

“Yes.” There.

They stared at each other for a few seconds and then Kay looked away, down at the congealing remains of egg on her plate. Finally she mumbled, “Why, Jaret?”

Jaret had expected all kinds of questions but never “Why?” What did that even mean? It really bugged her.

“You know, Mom, sometimes you’re really a V.I.P.” She stood up abruptly, knocking over her chair, and left the room.

Kay knew that V.I.P. stood for Very Immature Person.

Jaret had spent that day feeling sick to her stomach, not knowing what would happen, wondering if her mother would tell her father, wondering if she’d be sent to her Aunt Sandy’s in Texas for the summer. In two months she and Peggy would graduate; in the fall she would go to Radcliffe, Peggy to Smith. They wouldn’t see each other much then. Sure, there would be weekends, holidays, but it wouldn’t be the same. So they’d planned to spend every possible moment of the summer together. Peggy, because of her bout with mononucleosis that spring, wasn’t planning to work. Jaret, who had saved a lot of money from past summer jobs, convinced her parents that since college was such a big project, such heavy stuff, she needed the vacation; it would be good to make the transition that way. It was a super time to look forward to. And now she wondered if her life was over.

Later that night Kay came into her room. She turned the desk chair around and sat down, leaning her chin on her arm, which rested on the chair back. Jaret thought she looked like a kid, the outfit of overalls and work shirt helping to complete the picture. Neither of them said anything for a moment or two and Jaret twisted her long brown hair around a finger while she waited. Then Kay smiled.

“You know what, kid? You’re absolutely right. Sometimes I’m definitely a V.I.P. But only sometimes.”

Jaret smiled back, both dimples prominent. “Right.”

“I just gotta ask some questions.”

“Shoot.”

“I feel awkward.” She lit a cigarette and took a small ashtray out of her back pocket. “You know what I mean?”

“Sure. I know it’s not considered normal and all that. I’m not dumb, you know.”

“Oh, kid, that I know. Okay. Are you happy in this . . . this relationship? God, I hate that word. I mean, it’s a perfectly good word but Lord, what they’ve done to it. Anyway, I don’t have a substitute. So, are you? I mean really happy, Jare?”

“I really am, Mom.”

“What about boys?”

“Nothing. They do nothing for me. I tried but, well, when I kiss a boy it’s like kissing a piece of white bread. When I kiss Peggy I feel all tingly.”

Kay took a couple of quick drags on her cigarette and looked at the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Jaret said, recognizing her mother’s embarrassment. “I guess you don’t want to hear stuff like that.”

“The hell with what I want to hear.”

“I mean, what it is is girls, si, boys, no. I know it’s heavy, Mom, but I just can’t help it.”

“What happened with Peter? He seemed like a real nice guy.”

“He is a nice guy. It’s got nothing to do with him. It’s not his fault. It’s me. I don’t mean that it’s my fault; it’s just that I’m different, I guess. I mean, I know life would be easier if I was like everyone else . . . but that’s just not the way it is.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t ask if you did anything more with Peter than kiss?” Kay’s hand made a quick path through her hair.

“No, you shouldn’t.” The idea of discussing her sex life in any form with her mother did not appeal to Jaret. Still, she understood why Kay was asking. “Look, I know where you’re coming from, Mom, but don’t let it freak you out. I’ll tell you this: Whatever I did with boys I found really boring. I didn’t get turned on, okay?”

“I got it,” Kay said.

“And it’s got nothing to do with you and Dad. I mean, you didn’t make some horrible mistake in raising me or anything. And it’s not so terrible. In fact, it’s pretty nice. So don’t lay a guilt trip on yourself, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. What else?”

Kay chewed on her lip for a second and then shrugged. “I guess nothing right now. If you’re happy that’s all that counts.”

Jaret smiled. “That’s what we think, Peggy and I. As long as we’re happy, right?”

“Right. I like Peggy, you know. I think she’s a good kid.”

“I’m glad.”

Kay stood up and replaced the chair at the desk.

“Are you going to tell Dad?”

“Not right now, okay? Let me digest it first.” She leaned down and kissed Jaret lightly on the cheek. “Get some sleep.”

“I just want to say one thing, Mom.”

“What?”

“I know you probably think this is a phase but I think you should know that I’m sure it’s not. I think you should know that.”

Kay nodded, smiled. “Thanks for telling me.” Just before she closed the door she poked her head back in. “Jare, when we were first married your father and I called each other Puppy and Poochie. Good night, kid.”

Now it was two months later, the summer stretched ahead of Jaret and Peggy, and still Kay had not told Bert, Jaret’s father. Well, maybe that was best. Lesbianism was a hard thing for men to understand, Jaret thought. There were times when she was sure that Chris, her brother, knew and other times she was sure he didn’t. He wasn’t easy to read because he was not communicating with the family these days. But there was plenty of time for change. After all, he was only fifteen.

The other two people who knew were Bianca Chambers, her best friend after Peggy, and Peggy’s sister, Claire, who was always threatening to tell everyone. It was lousy to have that hanging over their heads because they could imagine what would happen in Gardener’s Point if it were ever made public. And they were right.