"Can I use a suitcase or do you guys need them?"
"We don't need them all, get one out of dad's closet honey." I could feel dad watching me as I went to get it. What did I do this time I wondered.
"Mary's mom is going to call you..."
"I'll just walk down and talk to her, so it's okay if you stay?"
"Yep." I turned around as I left the room to watch them watching me.
I closed the door when I got in my room. Mary sat there. "My parents are acting goofy."
"Whatdya mean?" Mary sat neatly at my desk chair. Rigid looking.
"Why are you sitting there like that?" Use to be she would be looking through my CD's and generally nosing in to what ever piqued her interest. Most times she was in my closet to see if there was anything of hers or anything of mine that she wanted to wear.
"Like what?"
"Like....I don't know. Like you're afraid to move."
I set about to opening the suitcase on the bed and started packing my bras, underwear, socks. Moving back and forth from the dresser to the bed and suitcase.
"I don't know. Seems like every time I come in here it's so clean anymore I hate to mess it up."
"Don't be stupid. Do what you always do."
That's all it took for her to start looking in the closet and turning on music. Aside from the clothes I wanted to wear we also packed some of what she wanted to wear. I went to my dresser again to pack up my makeup from on top. But I decided against it. I left it.
"Aren't you bringing your make up?"
"No. I kind of like not having to mess with it."
"I kind of envy that. I don't think I could go to the bathroom in my own house without it." She laughed. She did like her makeup. She was certainly pretty enough without it. But she thought she looked great with it. Which she did. But who always wanted to go to all that trouble? I could hear mom going down the steps and out the front door. Dad must have stayed in their room. Mary and I pretty much hung out upstairs until I got hungry and we went to see what was to eat. That's where we were when dad came in, browsing through cupboards and finally settling on making nachos in the microwave.
"So are you two looking forward to having a few days together?" He busied himself making a bowl of cereal and sitting down with us.
"I am." Mary always liked my dad and was very perky around him. Sometimes I thought she had a serious crush on him. "I'm going to see if Nicky and I can have mom's car and go to the movies tonight, then maybe shopping tomorrow. Maybe just drive around."
Okay then. Not really what I wanted to do but to keep Mary happy I could do this. Tonight the movies, tomorrow shopping, that would mean tomorrow night before I could stay at home...er....Mary's home and relax. I found myself doing this lately. If something comes up that I have to do, I start anticipating, needing time alone. At home. It wasn't necessarily that I didn't want to do things and have fun. I just looked forward to being done with it and being home.
"Nicky?"
I turned to look at dad. Who was looking at me. So was Mary. "What?" Why were they looking at me?
"I was asking you if you if you needed money?"
"Oh, I guess. I only have about ten dollars left from my baby sitting this summer." Dad pulled out his money clip and gave me fifty dollars. "Feeling pretty generous aren't you dad?"
He put his hand out to take it back. "I don't know what came over me."
"That's all right. I don't mind." He smiled as he pulled his hand back and continued eating his cereal. Mary was still looking at me. I felt like laughing. Like nobody ever zoned out before. Suddenly I felt a very strong urge to tell her how much she meant to me. I wanted to grab her and squeeze her. I couldn't help but look at her and I thought I was going to cry. All she wanted was to help me and that made me feel worse. Mary and dad started talking about her brother Mark who was getting ready for basketball season. Mark was pretty irrational about sports. When he wasn't on a team he was busy trying to stay in shape. I think dad kind of wished he had a son, or a daughter, for that matter, in sports. He always made a big deal out of anything I did. And sometimes it didn't seem like enough. It was almost like I didn't give him enough to parent. I got up and cleared our plates and glasses and dad's bowl. They were still talking about Mark when mom came back from talking to Mary's mom. She joined us at the table.
"All settled. Nicky you'll stay until we get back. Which I don't think we will plan on happening until Thursday."
Mary looked at me and I could tell she was going to say something but was nervous about it. While looking at the space between my parents, and stumbling a little over her words, she brought up that subject. WHich I would have been happy to avoid. "Uhmmm...I'm really sorry about your little nephew. I mean, that's...uh, sad." I stared innocently at my parents to see if they figured out what I had told Mary, about me, by what she had just said about Curtis.
Mom reached over and patted Mary's hand. "Thank you Mary." I got that very uncomfortable feeling that settles over everyone when there is a million things to be said, but no one has the nerve to say it. The heart to face it. Or the words to describe it.
Not because they can't. But because once opened up it is so much bigger than the words. It is so raw and searing, that everyone is more afraid of the other person's feelings or reactions, that no one wants to bring it up. But everyone wants to ask, to know. What are you thinking and feeling? What sense does that make? All kinds. When something awful happens, everyone wants to know detail, for different reasons, but no one wants to seem insensitive and be the one to bring up the subject. Though in reality it would probably be the best thing to do. Bring it up. Talk about it. Yell about it. Ask about it. Bu no, I don't want to go there. not about Curtis. Not about me. So am I like them? I sure don't think I feel like them. I don't want to talk about it because it is me.
Am I different than everyone else? I feel like I made a conscious decision to not tell. To not talk. Because I didn't want to cause pain. I didn't want to be the reason for discontent. For shattering the perfect world that was suppose to be mine, my parents. It wasn't that I couldn't take the pain, or face the reality of it. I did-every day. Every night. Every dream. Every lost dream. Could I do that? Make that kind of decision when this started? I pushed my chair back quickly, which startled every one.
"I better get my stuff ready." That set every one in motion. Mom and dad went upstairs to get their things and Mary and I carried my stuff down to the front door. I sat on the couch. Just wanting to leave. But knowing for their sake I should stay and say good bye. Mary and I sat quietly. One true mark of friendship, I thought, was the ability to sit quietly and not have to say anything. I didn't feel any discomfort at being quiet. And knowing Mary as I did I could feel when she was uncomfortable. I knew she wasn't. Not with our silence. Mom and dad came down with their luggage. Mary stood up and grabbed my suitcase.
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