Part 3 (1/2)
”Well, we don't like her, Mom.” I stammered in lieu of an explanation.
”You don't like her.” My father said dryly. ”Why? 'Cause she's not Beth?” My father's comment took me by surprise. I looked across the table at my brother who seemed to find his meat loaf very interesting. I knew I would get no help from him, mainly because I knew deep down Beth and I were wrong, but would not allow those words to pa.s.s through my lips. I looked back at my mother who met my gaze with her own dark eyes burning into mine.
”I want to see you playing with kids other than Beth. Do I make myself clear, Emily Jane?”
”But-”
”Don't argue with your mother! That girl has got way too many problems. She's a bad influence on you. I won't have my daughter hanging out with that girl. Her parents aren't married anymore, and her mother wh.o.r.es around.”
”But, dad, that isn't Beth's fault!” I exclaimed, my face red with anger.
”Don't you talk to me that way, young lady! You are fourteen years old, and are still a child. I don't give a d.a.m.n if you've started your monthly or not.” I turned even redder at this announcement to the family. I could not even look Billy in the face terrified of what I'd see there.
”Henry,” my mother said quietly to my father, placing her hand on top of his. My father glanced up at me with apologetic eyes for a moment before they became serious again.
”Girls your age should have lots of friends. Right, honey?” he turned to look at my mother. ”Didn't you have lots of girlfriends at Emmy's age?” my mother didn't answer, but turned to me instead. She placed her soft, warm hand over mine.
”Sweetie, we're not saying that you can never see or play with Beth again. Only that maybe you should give some other girls a chance. There has been a few new families that have moved into the neighborhood, and I've seen some girls and boys your age with them. Okay?”
”Francis, don't act as if this isn't serious!” my father said sternly to my mother.
”Honey, I will handle this.” My mother gave him the 'look'. He shut his mouth and took a drink of his milk, his eyes looking elsewhere.
”Okay?” my mother asked me again.
I looked down at my half-eaten dinner, and plopped my fork into the mountain of mashed potatoes. I simply nodded, feeling a lump in my throat too thick to speak over.
”Good.” My mother patted my hand before releasing it.
”So, Billy, how did try outs go? Did you make the team?” my father asked with barely controlled excitement edging his voice. I didn't bother to listen to my brother's answer. Why should I care if he made the stupid baseball team or not? I picked up my fork again and pushed my food around until it was a big pile of meatloaf, mashed potato, and greenbean mush.
I leaned against the counter as I watched the sink fill steadily with billowy suds. My head jerked to the right when I heard a crash. Billy ran into the handle of the oven as he tried to catch the dishtowel that he was throwing up into the air. He drew his brows together as he groaned, holding his stomach. I smiled to myself. Serves him right, the big dope that he was. He wouldn't even stand up for Beth.
”Is that water done yet?” he whined, walking over to stand next to me.
”Almost.” I said absently watching the hot water stream out of the faucet.
”Good. I don't wanna be here all night with you.”
”Thanks.” I said, slugging him in the gut. He doubled over and glared at me. ”This is just not fair, Billy.”
”Why? We always have to do dishes. It's like a national pastime,.” he grinned.
”Not the dishes, you dope, this whole stupid thing with Beth. It sucks! Dad is being so unfair.” I looked over my shoulder to the doorway of the kitchen to make sure neither of my parents were in hearing distance. I could hear Captain Kirk giving orders to Spock in the next room. I turned back to my brother. ”Why is he doing this, Billy?” he shrugged his broad shoulders.
”I don't know, Emmy. You know dad. He usually has a reason for what he does even if he's the only one who knows the reason.” he grinned and slugged me lightly in the arm. ”He loves us, and is always trying to do what's best, or something. I think he just worries because Beth has so many problems with her family, and that whole thing with her mom having that fling with the president of that bank she works at.” My head snapped around to stare at him.
”How do you know about that?” Billy shrugged indifferently, grabbing the handful of knives that I had just washed and put into the sink with rinse water.
”Everyone knows about that, Emmy. It's no big secret.”
”But, they never throw a fit because you and John spend so much time together. And his dad's a drunk, too! And he beats his wife! So what's the big deal about me and Beth? G.o.d, this is so stupid!” I could feel my anger building. It was not fair that my parents were trying to dictate who I spent time with. My blood began to boil. How dare they try to come between me and Beth!
”Come on, Emmy, you know you guys can still play, or whatever it is you do.”
”Don't pacifize me, Billy!” my brother grinned.
”That's patronize, you dip. And I'm not.” I slammed the newly washed gla.s.s into the hot water so hard that a stream of it fountained up into the air and splashed me in the face. My brother fell against the counter laughing, his hand holding his stomach. ”Dang, girl. Calm down.” He said through his tears. I just glared at him and wiped my face off.
I made my way into the kitchen, and brewed myself a pot of Ginger Peach hot tea. Sitting with my steaming mug at the table, I opened the photo alb.u.m once again. The year 1981 came in with a bang. My father had just been promoted at the car dealers.h.i.+p to sales manager the previous December, and my brother would be heading out to the military after his high school graduation in June. Beth and I would be heading into high school in the fall. Ronald Reagan would be elected president and shot before the year was out, and the greatest of all t.v. Phenomenon's of the eighties would begin, MTV. Two hundred and ninety-six people would die from the short-lived t.i.tle of 'the gay cancer' during that twelve-month period.
I flipped to a picture that immediately brought a smile to my lips. The Polaroid showed me and Beth in the living room of my parent's house, our arms around each other's shoulders, gla.s.ses of red Kool-Aid raised high for the camera. Our young faces had huge smiles plastered on them. In the background my parents could be seen in each other's arms caught forever in a New Year's kiss. Billy had snapped the picture right at midnight.: Mom, Dad, Emmy and Beth celebrate the New Year: 1981.
”That looks like such a rad movie!” Beth exclaimed, staring at the incredible images of the adventures of a new hero, Indiana Jones. Steven Spielberg's instant cla.s.sic, Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark was due out in theaters soon.
”I can't wait!” Billy agreed from the couch behind us as we sat on the floor, as he dumped a handful of popcorn into his awaiting mouth. Beth looked over her shoulder at him with a lopsided grin on her face.
”I bet Harrison Ford kicks as much a.s.s as he did as Han.” she grinned, referring to her hero playing Han Solo in Star Wars, and The Empire Strikes Back..
”Beth.” I said in surprise. ”My parents might hear you. Watch your mouth.” She stuck her tongue out at me, and turned back to Billy.
”Not to mention, Karen Allen.” he grinned. Beth smiled back at him and nodded before she turned back to me.
”Who's Karen Allen?” I asked, looking from one to the other.
”A really cute chick.” Billy informed me with a grin. I shrugged and turned to Beth.
”Hey, ready for bed?” she grinned as she wiggled a brow, letting me know she had something planned.
”Hey, don't leave me down here alone, guys.” Billy complained. ”It's bad enough I had to stay home tonight.”
”You had a chance to go with Sarah and her family, Billy.” I chastised with the slightest bit of sympathy.
”Yeah, but her dad hates me. No way am I gonna spend a couple days with that old geezer watching us every minute. Talk about a s.h.i.+tty New Years.”
”Guess he just doesn't want a bunch a pups left after you leave.” Beth said with a wicked smile. ”Sorry, Billy boy. Gotta go.” she said dramatically, and grinned. I shrugged my shoulders at his incredulous look, and stood to lead the way toward the stairs.
My bedroom hadn't changed much over the years. I still had the pastel blue curtains over the large window, but had talked my mom into letting me paint the room. Now instead of the curtain matching blue, my walls were white. Not a big victory, but life is made up of small victories, I reasoned. Plastered on my walls were posters of Harrison Ford, the musical group Toto, and Olivia Newton-John on one closet door with Bonnie Tyler on the other. Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh graced the wall on one side of my dresser mirror while Judy Garland graced the other side with Tom Drake in a still from Meet Me In St. Louis, forever frozen in the cla.s.sic Hollywood pre-kiss pose. On the wall opposite the dresser wall was a poster with Bogie and Ingrid Bergman from Casablanca. Beth had gotten me into the great cla.s.sics.
”Oh, man. What a long night.” Beth breathed as she plopped down on my bed and grabbed her over-night bag from the floor and set it in her lap. She unzipped the largest pocket, and dug around for a few minutes when with a smile she withdrew a small bottle filled nearly full with clear liquid. She gave me a grin full of mischief.
”What's that?” I asked walking to the bed and sitting next to her.
”Rum.”
”Rum?” I repeated, my curiosity piqued. ”Where did you get it?” I took the bottle from her and began to read the label. ”Ronrico silver label. Puerto Rican Rum.” She took the bottle back from me and unscrewed the cap.
”It's my mom's.”
”Uh, won't she miss it?” I asked, still eyeing the little gla.s.s bottle warily.