Dark Song Read online

  They looked like small animals caught in traps.

  I decided to go for the jugular. “Jail. What did you do to deserve it, Dad, and how did you avoid it?”

  Any hope that Em’s drama-queen proclivity had been at work here took the big flit when Dad’s head drooped like a flower on a broken stem.

  Mom sat, prim and quivering on the leather couch. “I told you we couldn’t keep this a secret.”

  “Dad?” I demanded.

  He stood and approached me. “It’s not your concern, Ames. It’s mine and I’ll take care of everything. It’s all going to be —” He reached out as if to put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Fine?” I loaded my voice with contempt and stepped back from his touch. “Sorry, but our house has become a war zone, you’ve been lying to me for weeks, my sister is in public school now and I’ll be there in September, my phone is gone, but the big news — the headline — is that my father barely skidded past the go directly to jail square. And other people knew it first. What kind of bullshit is this? Tell me how I’m supposed to listen to you? Let alone trust you?”

  I slammed out of Dad’s study. I heard the French door hit and bounce back against the wall.

  I turned to see an ugly crack splitting through the leaded and beveled glass. Ruined.

  That dark thrill, like the opening bars of a discordant song, flickered in me. I could hurt things. It frightened me. It made me feel like all my pulse points pounded in rhythm to that new, mysterious beat.

  It took Dad an hour to search out the courage to enter my room.

  “Don’t sit on my bed,” I said without looking up from my journal.

  He sat in the fluffy chintz chair that tucked into the makeup table directly opposite. He kept his back to me, his head hanging, a full glass of Jack in his hands. He took a breath and launched in, speaking to the mirror that hung on the wall over the table.

  “I was taking money from customers’ accounts and using it to buy short. You can make a killing like that. You put the money back in the accounts, and they never know.” He glanced away from my mirror image, seemingly speaking to his drink. “Then the whole economy nose-dived, and the numbers went against me. I couldn’t put the money back. It was okay at first. Nobody looks at those accounts but once a year at audit time, so I kept trying to play catch-up, drawing bigger amounts from other accounts. I made a few of the big draws up, but…”

  His voice caught and so he took a gulp from the glass. “I got caught. I wasn’t downsized, I was fired. I had to pay back what I could out of my retirement. There’s no settlement money. Em’s dad persuaded them to avoid the scandal and not press charges. I can’t get a recommendation. Hell, no one will even interview me.”

  I wavered between the need to hug him and kick his butt. I couldn’t stand the self-pity and he had done so much that was so wrong, but — he was my dad. He was my dad. My voice softened and I swear, I swear I was gentle as I said the words.

  “Get a job doing something else. You screwed up. Take it on the chin.” I turned to look at him. The glass behind him was empty.

  Dad walked over to the bed and scowled at me. “You sound just like your mother. I’m good at what I do, Ames. If I take some low-paying temp job, I’ll never get a corporate job again. I know how these things work.” I could smell the Jack on his breath and his face was red and strained.

  “I guess you want me to trust you on that,” I said.

  He lifted his hand, palm open ready to slap me. I gasped, bracing for the strike.

  It didn’t come. The utter betrayal had already hit me, though.

  Dad looked at his hand as if he was surprised to see it there. He lowered it, looking ashamed and confused.

  When he left the room he didn’t close the door.

  The only reason I knew I hadn’t turned to stone was that I felt Chrissy’s warmth as she snuggled in next to me in bed that evening.

  “Stay here. You make me feel better,” I told her.

  Chrissy nestled in tighter. “My room is next to theirs and I can hear them fight at night. It makes my bears nervous when they do that. It’s a lot worse now than it was before.”

  I let that lay still in the room for a minute.

  “Before? You heard Mom and Dad fighting a lot before he lost his job?”

  “Lots.”

  “You never told me,” I said.

  Chrissy didn’t answer. But I knew. I hadn’t asked. Chrissy was like a tape recorder, full of information, but you had to punch the right button for playback.

  “What did they fight about?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t hear the words good, just the angry.”

  Just the angry. That’s all that was left in this house. The angry.

  “Did Daddy hit you?” she asked me out of the blue. I was stunned. I hadn’t known she’d caught any of that scene through the open door to my room.

  “No, but he wanted to. He almost did,” I said.

  “Why?”

  “He was mad at me because I wouldn’t let him lie anymore. And he was mad at Mom and, I don’t know, maybe he’s mad at the whole world.”

  “D’you think he’ll try to hit me someday, too?”

  I closed my eyes and tears leaked out and ran back toward my ears. I pulled one hand from behind my head and curled it around Chrissy. “No. I will never, ever let anyone hurt you.”

  It used to be that home was my warm, safe nest. Then school became my refuge. Now, the social parts of school were toxic and the classroom stuff seemed like my only place to get peace. This morning Edwin was Bivens-baiting again, and it set my head spinning. When Mr. Bivens got the class settled, I couldn’t make sense of the work. Numbers, letters, signs, sines. They hopped around like fleas on a dog’s back. I couldn’t keep still. I drummed my pencil, I crossed and recrossed my legs. I wrote, erased, sighed, looked out the window, at the clock, around the room.

  When the bell rang I walked straight out of school and to the nearest Starbucks. I had enough money to get even more wired on Sumatra and read newspapers the rest of the day.

  I didn’t go home until I figured Mom, Dad, and Chris would be having dinner. I was sloshing with coffee and too mad to eat so I banged in the kitchen door, was up the stairs and locked inside my room before they could register my presence.

  Mom banged on my door. “Let me in here this minute. You skipped out after your second class.”

  “If you ground me at night, I’ll take my free time during the day.”

  “Ames.”

  “Go away.”

  Oh yes, we were a pretty family now. Let’s put on the reindeer antlers and take the Christmas photo. Paste on the cheesy smile like we do in those portraits Mom had taken for our holiday cards, posed in August so the best photographer in Boulder could fit us in. Sweaters and artificial snow.

  I knew Mom was still listening outside my door, wondering what to say to me.

  “Go away, Mom. There’re things we shouldn’t say to each other right now.”

  When I got up, I found a note from Mom: If you plan to go to school, you can use the bus or ask Em to take you. I’m done with chauffeuring you.

  So I guess Mom didn’t care if I went to school anymore. I phoned Em.

  “I’ve been waiting here by the phone for you, Tweety. What’s the drama at your house? Your mom called and told my mom that your attitude has put you on your own and she’s not carpooling.”

  “I hooked out yesterday, told Mom that I wasn’t listening to her anymore, and this is her payback.”

  “No worries. I’ll bat my eyes and sweet-talk Mom and she’ll feel sorry for you. She thinks people that ride city buses carry infectious disease. She won’t let you die of the wikizooties or anything.”

  Soon, Em and her mom pulled into the drive and I dashed out.

  “Ames, your mother is under a lot of stress,” her mom reminded me, as if I didn’t know. “You just have to be understanding. I know it feels awful right now. Let her calm down. Don’t worry
about school. We’ll be glad to run you back and forth until your mother gets her feet back under her.”

  “Thanks.”

  Get her feet back under her. I hated those stupid sayings. Her feet weren’t going to get back under her as long as they were all over me.

  WHEN THE ROBIN ROARS

  When I walked into the kitchen that afternoon, Grandmom Robin was pacing the floor, holding a rolling pin like a lethal weapon. Mom, Dad, and Chrissy were sitting in the kitchen chairs like scolded children. Grandmom pointed to the vacant chair and I sat down. It struck me how scary it was to greet Grandmom and to have her respond without a smile.

  “Isn’t this a charming bunch? I have to hear from a bawling six-year-old that my son-in-law is a ‘robber’ who might be smacking his teenage daughter around. That my daughter has turned into Shylock where nothing seems to matter but the almighty dollar. My oldest granddaughter compounds the situation by offering boatloads of nothing but trouble.” She stopped, crossed her arms over her chest, and surveyed us. “Does that about cover it?”

  There was a beat or two of silence, and then chaos as everyone started talking at once. Mom shouted at Robin, Dad shouted at me, I shouted at Chrissy, and Chrissy sobbed into the neck of her favorite bear.

  Robin smacked the table top with the rolling pin. “Hush!” Dad and I jumped back in our chairs and Chrissy sobbed harder. Mom just glared.

  Grandmom’s voice rose. “You’ve made the only sane person in the room cry. Not another word.” Her hair had come loose from its messy bun and the wisps around her head made her look wild. The set of her mouth was threatening. Where was my mellow grandmom Robin?

  “Consider this an intervention,” she said. “Because you people are totally messed up.”

  “Robin, you’re one to be talking…” Mom started.

  “Okay, that makes you first. Why are you screaming at your children? What are you so afraid of? This isn’t the end of the world.”

  Mom’s mouth dropped open. “Do you think I’m supposed to go back to living in a tent again? Raise my girls in a park panhandling while I tell bogus fortunes with Tarot cards?” Her hands had curled into fists. “You think this isn’t the end of the world?”

  Robin’s face softened. “That was over twenty years ago… for two months. It was an adventure, Diana.”

  “An adventure? I grew up with my stomach in knots from the uncertainty. You think life isn’t about money, it’s about love and freedom and all that babble. It is about money. Money is safety.” Her voice dropped and she arranged and rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. “Ames here seems to think I don’t remember what it’s like to be a teenager. Well, I remember. I remember being frightened every minute. Scared to sleep, thinking that some drug-crazed man would snatch me out of a tent. Embarrassed that I had to use the public restrooms. Mortified when I couldn’t get a shower or a clean towel.” Mom’s voice cracked.

  “So the situation you’re in now is my fault?” Robin’s voice was softer but gave no ground. “Once you got that great job and married a man who made wads of cash, you still couldn’t take the reins of your own destiny?”

  “I did, until he destroyed it.” Mom’s voice was poisonous.

  “Okay, you put your life in a man’s hands and he messes up. What happens now?” She jerked the salt and pepper shakers away so Mom couldn’t obsess over them. “It looks like you’re just going to shout at people and blame anyone that gets in your crosshairs.”

  Mom deflated a little. “Why is this all on me? I didn’t do this.”

  “It isn’t all on you,” Robin said. “But you’re still on your ass. Do you have a plan to get off it?”

  Robin got herself a glass of water and turned her attention to Dad. “Now, as for you: You stole from your clients? You have no job and no hope of getting another one?” Dad refused to look at Grandmom. “Look at me and tell me I don’t have a grasp of the situation?”

  “I’ve worked hard all my life to give this family the best —”

  “You also gave Diana false confidence in your finances. You pushed to buy this house and you pushed her to leave her job. You gambled with money you didn’t have. That leaves you with no excuses. So if you need to move, you’ll move. If you need to work a blue-collar job, you’ll do that. If Diana divorces you…”

  Dad tightened his jaw.

  “I’d kick you out before you could fart or spit, but knowing her, she’s going to torture you instead. If she does divorce you, you’ll find work and you’ll support your children or the courts won’t need to find you. Do you understand me, Randal?”

  Dad looked like something was eating him from the inside out. Then, Robin turned to me.

  “You’re being the whiny rich kid playing poor pitiful me, acting out by boosting out of windows at night. Aren’t you a big help?”

  “They lied,” I accused, hearing the whine in my own voice.

  “You don’t?” Robin shot back. “You act like this family was the perfect Kodak snapshot before. That’s one big lie, too.”

  I sat back in my chair. “That’s not true.”

  “Ames, I love you, but you live in your own world. You’ve been spoiled from day one. Think about it. You wanted what you wanted, and you wanted it now.”

  “All little kids are like that,” I said.

  “Is Chrissy?” Robin drummed her fingers on the table. I looked at Chrissy. No, she wasn’t.

  “Grandmom, where’s Rockin’ Robin?” I asked, almost in a daze. “You’re as bad as she is.”

  “Ames!”

  I wanted to smile at how insulted Mom sounded.

  Robin grabbed my hand. I tried to shrug her off but she held on too tight. “How did you get this angry? The world has always been so easy for you. Is that why you feel so betrayed?” Robin’s voice was gentler than her grip. “You are your mother made over, Ames.”

  “I’m nothing like my mother.” I darted a look. Mom’s mouth was set in a line and her eyes were ice.

  Grandmom paused, then shook her head. “Could the rest of you go to the living room. See if you can work on a plan of action that might get you off your backsides.” Chairs scraped back. Mom put each one carefully back in their place, and then she followed Dad and Chrissy out.

  “Think again, Ames. Remember going to see Jimmy Buffett on my birthday? Remember how you didn’t need a towel?” She left the kitchen and went into the living room, leaving me to linger over her puzzle.

  A couple of years ago, for her birthday, we took Robin to see Jimmy Buffett playing an outdoor concert in Denver. We were heading to the car for the drive down and it started pouring. Mom ran inside to check all the windows so nothing would get ruined. I hauled butt for the car so I wouldn’t get wet. The goofy threesome, Robin, Dad, and Chrissy, stood there like turkeys with faces turned to the rain, getting drenched, sticking their tongues out, arguing about what the rain tasted like.

  Then I got Robin’s point: Mom came out of the house with three towels, like she knew only three of us would need them. But not me. She knew I’d never stand out in the rain getting soaked if I didn’t have to. Like her.

  Something dangerous reared its head. I’m nothing like her.

  I walked into the living room. Robin gestured me to a chair. “Now, what’s the plan?” she asked.

  “Randal and I both look for jobs,” Mom said. “They won’t be the pay grades or the prestige we’re used to, but we’ll have to get past that.”

  Dad seemed to be sucking his cheeks to the inside of his mouth, but he nodded.

  “Can you keep up the mortgage on this house?”

  Sweat popped out on Dad’s brow. “No.”

  Mom closed her eyes for a long minute, then opened them again. “We have some high ticket items here that’ll sell quickly. That should cover us for a month or two. We put the house on the market tomorrow and look for a cheaper place, hopefully in a decent school district for Ames and Chrissy, since they’ll go to public school.”

  Robin nodded. �
�There’s an age limit for my condo and a no-children clause, so you can’t move in with me, but I’ll put it on the market right away.”

  “You can’t,” Dad muttered.

  “Randal?” Mom asked.

  “Deed is in my name so I could pay the taxes. I took a second mortgage on it. I owe back taxes. You’re going to lose it, Robin.”

  “Good.” Robin didn’t bat an eye. “I hate the place. Too many old people.”

  I stared at Dad. “Dad! How could you do that to Grandmom?”

  “Ames, I’ll be fine. I could survive in a tin can. That’s the difference between the Fords and me.” Robin gestured to Mom. “Diana, stop shooting black looks at your husband. You had a plan. Keep talking.”

  Mom worked her jaw back and forth. She took a couple of deep breaths and continued. “Since the house we move to will be smaller we can sell quite a bit of furniture and art, we might take a beating on this house, but we should have enough for a decent down payment and a little savings. It will be a different life, but it’s what we have to do.”

  “Randal, are you on board?” Robin’s voice was not friendly.

  “I said yes, didn’t I?” He shoved back his chair and went to the kitchen. He came back with a Corona. “You have my word. Do you need my testicles for collateral?”

  “Like you have any,” Mom said under her breath, quick as a snake bite.

  “Diana! Divorce him or welcome him into the boat. Use the oars to row, not to beat each other over the head.

  Ames, what about you?”

  I looked at Dad, Mom, and Robin. Finally at Chrissy. I thought about Mom at thirteen, homeless and scared.

  “I’m on board. No spending. No boosting out windows. I’ll go to public school. I won’t give anyone attitude. But I want to be in the boat, too. Don’t lie to me. Tell me what’s really happening. That’s all I want,” I said.

  I could see by Robin’s glance that she wasn’t sure she believed me.

  Now that Mom had a plan, an outline, rules, a checklist, she was easier in her skin. She got her laptop and typed and tapped. I assume since she was moving from room to room and surveying before she typed that she was making a list of salable items.