The Other Sister, page 16
Geraldine’s dark bangs dropped into her eyes and shook. Her Dad.
It couldn’t be. It was stupid. It couldn’t be true that somebody else was her father.
Like, say, Uncle Pete.
She couldn’t belong to Uncle Pete. He was the failure, the loser, the black sheep. He could not possibly have stayed in town after Aunt Florence left because he was in love with Mom, and because she was really his daughter.
A family came in and wanted chips and sandwiches and Cokes, so Geraldine had to get the cash drawer out of the safe and set the register up. And another came in and wanted directions and the bathroom and a bag of Chips Ahoy cookies to keep the kids quiet, and Mr. Kushner and Mr. Shamanski came in and wanted beer and the last of the pie. Which meant she had to cut more and get it into the clear plastic clamshells.
Her dad.
She tried to forget her stupid ideas. Tried so hard not to believe it. Because if she started hoping, it’d all fall down. Because it always fell down.
He hasn’t exactly been a real dad to you…It’s you and me, G.
Geraldine swallowed, and turned the sign on the door to CLOSED. Heart in her mouth, she walked to the house. Mom wasn’t in the living room like she expected. She was in the bedroom, lying on her back on the white crocheted bedspread, with her arm angled over her eyes.
Geraldine stopped in the doorway.
“Mom?”
There was no answer.
“Mom?”
Mom rolled over and her arm flopped sideways.
Geraldine bit her lip. She took the bottle of pills off the nightstand and put it back in the cupboard and took the vodka bottle into the kitchen.
She stood there for a long minute, gripping the edge of the counter. She should go back and take care of the store. She should do a hundred things.
She grabbed her keys off the hook by the door and ran out to the shed to get her stupid rusty bike before she got the chance to be sorry.
2.
He was heaving a tire up onto a stack beside the garage door. The long shadow from the ED’S AUTO sign slanted across him. One of the men inside the garage shouted something. Pete shouldered the tire stack straighter, and shouted back.
Geraldine stopped next to the air pump, one foot on her bike pedal, one foot on the ground, trying to decide what to say. Before she could figure it out, though, Pete turned, rubbing his forehead with his sleeve.
They stared at each other. Pete Monroe, her uncle, her father’s younger brother, was kind of a wreck. He kind of always had been, but now it was worse. His hair was shaggy and greasy, his jeans were streaked with dirt and oil.
He pulled a grimy shop towel out of his back pocket and wiped both hard hands on it. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” His forehead wrinkled. “Is it your mom?”
Geraldine shook her head and Pete’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Then what’s going on? I mean, I’m working here.”
Yes. He was working and she was an idiot.
“I’m sorry. I was, it was stupid.” She got ready to push off.
“Geraldine, wait.” Uncle Pete held out his hand, but didn’t actually touch her. He glanced back at the guys in the garage, who all seemed to have stopped what they were doing to watch the show. “Come upstairs.”
He trotted up the rickety stairs bolted to the side of the garage and waited at the top while Geraldine locked up her bike.
Turned out Dad was right about something. Pete’s apartment really was crappy.
There was only one room and everything in it was crooked and sagging and chipped at the edges. It smelled like the garage, exhaust and gas and oil. No beer though, which kind of surprised her.
Uncle Pete stopped in the middle of the room and looked around him, like he’d forgotten something important. Geraldine found herself staring at him, looking for traces of herself in this skinny, greasy, sunburnt man.
Did she have his chin? His nose? Was it there, around his eyes, or in the way he grimaced just a little before he turned to face her?
“What’s going on, G?” he asked.
Anger surged. She was being stupid, and he didn’t get to call her G. And the two things didn’t make any sense and that just dug further under her skin.
“Is it true you and Mom are leaving?”
“What?”
“Mom says you’re leaving. She says you made up with Aunt Florence and you and her and Aunt Trish are all going to live in Indianapolis and I can come too but not Marie and if you said that, you’re some kind of goddamn shithead to talk Mom into leaving Marie behind!”
If she’d been talking to Mom, Mom would have popped open a beer right now. Dad would get all soft and patient and start telling his endless stories, like he thought if he just kept talking long enough she’d have to believe him.
Uncle Pete pulled his torn flannel shirt off from around his shoulders. He was wearing a sleeveless undershirt, and his arms were tanned, twisted, and ropy. He balled the flannel up and threw it at the wall. It flopped down on top of the ancient TV set.
“Shit,” he said, but not angry. Just, flat. “How’d you find out?”
Hope reached out from nowhere at all and twisted Geraldine’s heart.
“I won’t tell. I won’t tell anyone ever. I promise. But you’ve got to take Marie, too. I’ll figure out what to tell her. I promise I will, but—”
“No, Geraldine. That’s not it. It’s not.” He took a deep breath. “Look, your Mom and me…it’s complicated, all right?”
“UnclePeteareyoumyrealfather?”
Geraldine had to watch for eight strained seconds while Uncle Pete sorted the lump of sound into words.
“I’d ask where you got that idea from, but I don’t guess it matters.”
Geraldine swallowed and shook her head. She wasn’t sure whether she was agreeing with him or just trying to keep from crying.
“And no, honey, I’m not. I’m sorry.”
“Do you know who is? Because it’s not him. I know it’s not him. He hates me. He can’t be my father. I swear to God I’ll never tell as long as I live. I just want to know.”
But Uncle Pete just sighed.
“Look, you hungry? It’s lunchtime. How about we go get a pizza?”
She did not want pizza. She wanted an answer. She wanted him to say he was taking her and Mom and Aunt Trish and Marie all to Geraldine’s real family. But some part of her felt sure saying the words would end everything. As long as she kept quiet, there was still a chance it’d work out.
“Sure. Okay.”
“Okay. Let me go get a fresh shirt. Hang on.”
3.
There was exactly one place to get pizza in Whitestone Harbor. Unless you counted Charlie’s out on M-131, but that was a bar and Geraldine was pretty sure Uncle Pete wasn’t taking her to a bar. That left the Flat and Round.
Geraldine and Pete didn’t talk much on the way, they just walked side by side, Geraldine pushing her bike, and Pete digging his hands in his pockets.
The Flat and Round was built like an old barn. Inside, it was one big room with a cement floor and a bunch of picnic tables. She’d lost track of time. It was lunch hour at the high school and the place was almost full of juniors and seniors, clustered around pizzas on pedestal trays and pitchers of Coke and root beer.
Stupid. Never should have said yes.
A few kids looked up when Uncle Pete and Geraldine walked in, the beam of sunlight cutting through the gloom. Most of them went right back to scarfing pizza and shouting at each other.
But some of them stared, like the two who were sitting toward the back, right at the very end of one of the long tables, with an untouched pie between them.
It was Marie. And David Pendarves. Marie’s wide eyes flickered from Geraldine to Uncle Pete and she went dead white.
Geraldine grabbed Uncle Pete’s arm. She figured he’d take the hint and they’d leave. But Pete ignored her. He walked up to the window, so she had to either let go or be dragged along.
“Whaddaya want, G?” he asked. “Pepperoni?”
“Yeah, sure. Okay.”
“Coke?”
“Yeah.”
Pete gave Mr. MacInnerny the order.
“Get us a seat,” he told her. “I’m gonna go wash up.”
Pete headed for the men’s room. Marie wouldn’t stop staring, even though David was talking to her. Everybody else was done paying them any attention. They were busy eating, talking, laughing about stuff that was way more interesting.
Anger reared up slowly inside Geraldine, defiant and familiar. She waved twinkle-fingers at her sister, and sat down on the nearest bench, elbows on the table.
Marie said something to David without looking at him. She pressed both hands against her table and stood. It must have taken her two whole minutes to slow walk across the room. When she finally got to Geraldine’s table, she was breathing like she’d had to run a whole marathon.
“What are you doing here?” Marie demanded, in a whisper-shout, like they used at home so Dad wouldn’t hear. “You’re supposed to be home with Mom. I’ll get your homework. What if somebody sees…”
Geraldine let her gaze wander around the busy room. “Too late.”
“Dad’s going to find out!” hissed Marie.
“Dad doesn’t care about me.”
“That’s not true.”
Except it was and they both knew it, and Marie’s refusal to admit the stupid truth of their stupid lives made Geraldine nasty. “He will care a whole lot if he finds out you’re going out with David Pendarves and you didn’t tell him.”
“I am not going out with anybody. He just asked me if I wanted to get a pizza. For lunch.”
“And Uncle Pete asked me if I wanted to get a pizza. For lunch.”
“We’re not supposed to talk to him! You’re going to get in trouble!”
“Go back to your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend!”
“Wonder why that is?” piped up Luke Lindowski at the next table, and for a second, Geraldine thought her sister was going to faint.
Somebody snorted. Somebody snickered. David got to his feet and strolled over to Luke and his buddies.
“You’re a dick,” he said.
“Better than being a pussy-whipped cunt face.”
David swung. Luke ducked, and struggled to get out from under the picnic table. David was leaning forward, ready to get in a couple good punches before Luke got his legs free. But Uncle Pete strode up from behind, wrapping his ropy arms around David and hauled him backward.
“Cut it out, Pendarves!” he shouted, just as Mr. MacInnerny came charging past the counter.
“Take it outside, you little shits!” MacInnerny roared.
Pete let David go. David wiped his mouth and looked at Marie, and at Geraldine. He looked at Luke, too. Then, he curled one fist tight, turned around, and walked out. Marie stared after him, after David. Geraldine saw something strange in her sister’s face. It was like hunger, but worse. Her anger dissolved like it had never existed.
Of course, Luke started to follow David, but Pete clamped one hand down hard on the boy’s shoulder.
“Don’t be an idiot. He’ll beat the snot out of you.”
“Let me go, you old ass-wipe.” Luke shook free and took off.
“Come on, Marie.” Geraldine tugged at her sister’s elbow. “Sit with us.”
But Marie just swatted weakly at her hand. She didn’t even turn around. “I h…I have to go.” And just like that, she left. In fact, she ran.
Geraldine plopped back down on the picnic bench. The rest of the place went back to what it was doing. Mrs. MacInnerny brought the tray of pizza and a pitcher of Coke. Uncle Pete sat down on the other side of the table and waited. Geraldine just kept staring out the door.
“Pizza’s gonna get cold, G.”
“Yeah. I just…I think I better go make sure Marie’s okay.”
Pete sighed. “Margie!” he called to Mrs. MacInnerny. “Can we get a box?”
Geraldine didn’t wait.
It took a minute, but Geraldine spotted Marie and David by the Dumpster. She was staring up into his face and he was touching her cheek. Geraldine didn’t know whether to gag or cheer.
Then, behind her, Uncle Pete swore, the most tired sound Geraldine had ever heard anyone make. She whipped around and saw why. A brand-new silver Taurus was pulling into the dirt and gravel parking lot.
It was Dad.
4.
Geraldine didn’t stop to think. She grabbed Uncle Pete’s hand and pulled him close to block the view of Marie and David.
Instead, Dad only saw her and Pete. Side by side, with Pete holding her with one hand and a pizza box with the other.
“Pete.”
“Martin.”
Dad had this way of looking at her when he was angry. It was slow and steady and unblinking, and somehow it always made Geraldine feel like she’d been rolling in the mud. “Little young for you, isn’t she?”
Pete muttered something under his breath, at the same time, he gave Geraldine’s hand a squeeze. “What do you want?”
“Well, I could ask what your intentions are toward my daughter.”
Get out, get out, get out, thought Geraldine toward Marie, but she didn’t dare look back. Right now, Dad’s attention was busy being taken up by Uncle Pete, and her. She couldn’t blow it. She just had to hope Marie was fast enough.
“Just getting my niece some pizza.” Pete held up the box as proof.
“Because she’s so clearly wasting away.” Dad looked Geraldine up and down an extra time. She felt like she was inflating while he watched. “Where’s your mother, Geraldine?”
“She’s home. Asleep.”
“Well, we’d better go check on her.” Dad leaned over and opened the car door.
“I need to get my bike,” said Geraldine, pointing to where she’d locked it to the crooked apple tree.
“Leave it,” snapped Dad.
Geraldine swallowed, and climbed into the passenger seat. I won’t cry, she promised herself. I won’t look. I won’t do anything. I won’t give him anything.
“Martin…” said Pete.
Too late. Dad gunned the engine. Gravel spat out from under the tires as the car jounced over potholes and out onto the road.
He drove in silence, but not for long enough.
“What did Pete want?”
“Pizza. He told you.”
“Geraldine. You should know better than to try to smart talk me.”
Yes, she should, but she wasn’t going to be scared. She wasn’t going to show him how bad she wanted to crawl away. “It’s true. I missed the bus this morning, so I rode my bike to school. But I had a flat and at lunch, I went out to use the air pump, and Uncle Pete asked if I wanted to get a pizza.”
“So what did you two talk about over pizza? Or were you going back to his place so you could be alone together?”
Geraldine’s stomach cramped up. “He asked about school and…stuff.”
“What kind of stuff? Like your mother?”
Geraldine looked out the window at the green blur of trees. “I guess. Maybe. Why’s it matter?”
“It matters because Pete is a liar and a cheat. He wants what we have, and he won’t stop at anything to get it. That includes using you and your mother to get to me.”
“Well maybe if you hadn’t stolen his house and busted up his family, he wouldn’t have to!”
Dad didn’t say anything. Dad acted like he hadn’t even heard. Dad just drove.
But not home. He turned off M-131 onto Barstow, where the ground leveled out into cornfields and barns and falling-down houses.
“Where are we going?” asked Geraldine.
Dad glanced at her, just long enough for her to see his lifted eyebrow, and his tiny little smile. “Too cool to take a drive with your old man?”
“No, I, I just…I’m going to be late for class.”
“Now that’s really strange that you should be worried about that now. Because Mrs. Stucholtz called me earlier. She said you weren’t in school at all today.”
Busted. Geraldine felt herself shrinking down in the seat. She was going to be locked in her room again, sneaking out the window to raid the store and pee in the woods again.
It wasn’t fair.
“Patience, Geraldine,” said Dad. “It’ll all be over soon.”
The cornfields and the apple orchards rolled past them. The sky was flat and blue and the sun beat down on the car. Dad didn’t have the air-conditioning on and Geraldine didn’t dare roll down the window.
At last, up ahead, Geraldine saw a building. It stood on its own in the middle of a lawn that was burnt brown by the sun. It was tall and square and made of orange brick with neat rows of little windows. But what really stood out was how it was surrounded by a chain-link fence, topped by big curls of barbed wire.
Dad pulled up onto the far shoulder and shut the engine off. She could hear the crackle of road dust settling around them.
Dad was waiting for her to say something. She could tell. She swallowed and tasted more dust.
“What’s that?” She pointed to the building.
“That’s the loony bin, Geraldine,” answered Dad. He sounded cheerful, like this was a real treat for him. “The insane asylum. That’s where they lock up crazy people. Like Patricia Burnovich. Or people who drink too much, like your mother.”
“You’re going to lock Mom up?”
“No. You.”
He turned to her. He was smiling his saddest, most patient smile.
There was no air. She was going to be sick all over the seat. She couldn’t move. All these things were true at the same time, and she didn’t know which was worst.
“You don’t go to school, Geraldine.” How could anyone sound so sad and so happy at the same time? “You’re always getting into trouble. You’re failing everything.”
Because I have to take care of Mom! Because I have to watch the store! Geraldine balled up her fists, ready to shout. But then she looked again at her father’s face. It was flat, dead. The sunlight streamed through the windshield, but none of it touched his eyes. They weren’t even dark. They were blank. She couldn’t tell what he was going to do. They were all alone. They hadn’t even seen another car for…ever. She could scream and scream and scream and no one would hear.
