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“Seems to meyou’rethe one she’s angry at right now.”
“Of course, ’cause I’m her mother. Teenage girls always take everything out on their mothers. It’s normal.”
“If that’s normal, it’s a miracle every kid isn’t strangled at birth.” Rick stands up and grabs his car keys from the counter.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve gotta meet Ben about that project down in Quincy. I told you.”
“What about dinner?”
“I’ll pick up something on the way.” He looks grudgingly at Jane and nods. “Thanks for dropping by, but I don’t think you need to get involved. I don’t know what’s got into that girl lately,but she’ll come home when she runs out of money. She always does.”
We’re all silent as he walks out of the kitchen. It’s as if we don’t dare say anything that will delay his exit. When we hear his car rumble out of the driveway, I can almost see Jackie’s body go rubbery in relief. Jane gives me a look that says:Why are these people still married?It’s the same thought that’s crossed my mind more than once. It wasn’t always this way between them. I remember them cuddling and smooching when they first moved to the neighborhood, back before Tricia was born. Kids can be rough on a marriage.
“I went on her Facebook page, but she’s blocked me. Can you believe that?” says Jackie. “I checked with her friends, and they all claim they have no idea where Tricia is. But these teenagers, they’re so good at keeping one another’s secrets. I don’t know if she’s telling them to lie to me or what.” Jackie drops her head into her hands. “If I just knew what set this off. Why she’s so mad at me. It’s like a switch suddenly got flipped. She came home from school on Tuesday, called me this filthy, filthy word, and locked herself in her room. The next morning, she was gone.”
“Where did she go the last time she ran away?” Jane asks.
“She hid out at a girlfriend’s house. Even the girl’s parents didn’t realize she was there, sleeping in their daughter’s bedroom. Another time, she took the bus to New York City. I only found out after she called and asked me to send money for the ticket home.”
Jane studies Jackie for a moment, as if trying to discern what’s not being said. What’s being left out. “Why do you think she’s angry with you, Mrs. Talley?” she asks quietly.
Jackie sighs and shakes her head. “You know how she is. She’s always had a temper.”
“Did something happen here at home? Maybe something between her and her father?”
“Rick? No, she would’ve told me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Jackie says, but then looks away, making her declaration less than convincing. I think of Rick Talley with his gold man-bracelet and his slicked-back hair. I can’t see teenage girls being his type. No, I imagine him with someone showier and bustier, someone with a big, brassy laugh. A woman like Jackie used to be.
Jackie stares down at the table with its crumbs and its dried splatters and I see the beginning of jowls tugging down her face. This is not the same lively woman who moved here eighteen years ago to take a job at the high school. Back when she was the hot new addition to the neighborhood, I didn’t like her much. I even avoided her, because I knew she caught the eye of every man in the neighborhood, including my Frank. But now she’s just a scared mother, trapped in a clearly unhappy marriage, and she’s no longer a threat to my marriage, because another bimbo’s already got her claws in Frank.
Jane and I don’t talk much as we walk back to my house together. The evening is warm and windows are open and I hear snippets of conversation, the clink of dishware, and the sound of TVs spilling from the houses. It may not be the nicest neighborhood in the city but it’s my neighborhood, and in these modest homes live people I know, some of them friends, some of them not. We pass the Leopolds’ and through the front window I see Larry and Lorelei sitting side by side on their white sofa, dining off trays in front of the TV. Something I never allowed inmyhouse, because dinner should be eaten properly, at a dining table.
To each his own. Even if it’s wrong.
We reach my house, and across the street, there’s that silverfox Jonas, bare-chested and lifting weights in his living room. All these windows are like TV screens, where real dramas are playing out for anyone who cares to watch.Channel 2531: Jonas, retired Navy SEAL, battling the ravages of age! Channel 2535: Leopolds on the sofa: middle-aged couple trying to keep the romance alive! Channel 2533: The Greens…
I don’t know what to say about the Greens.
Their blinds are shut as usual, and except for a furtive silhouette moving past the window, I can’t make out any of what’s happening inside.
“That’s their house,” I say to Jane.
“Whose?”
“Those people I told you about. The spies. Or maybe they’re fugitives.”
Jane sighs. “Geez, Ma. Jump to conclusions much?”
“There’s something odd about those people.”
“Because they won’t eat your zucchini bread?”
“Because they don’t socialize with anyone. They make no effort to be part of the neighborhood.”
