Darling Rose Gold, page 12
Since Dad had walked into Gadget World last August, I’d been erasing all traces of Mom from my life. I’d looked into changing my last name, although “Rose Gold Gillespie” felt like a mouthful. I’d distanced myself from Mrs. Stone, because she reminded me of memories tied to Mom. I’d stopped using Mom’s stupid sayings—no more “Christmas eyes” or “puppy jumps.” No more wondering what she would do every time I needed to make a decision. I was done being her doormat, done with her altogether. I had a new family now. I hoped they would leave me in one piece.
I’d gotten so caught up in the reunion with my dad that I had to put the visit to Phil on hold. The five-hour drive to Fairfield was more important than the trip to Colorado. I could—and would—do both, but for now, Phil would have to wait. When I told him about my dad, he’d been supportive and sweet. Phil understood I loved him but wouldn’t be as available as usual. I had to make up for lost time with my dad.
The last hour of the drive flew by, and I found myself in a tidy suburb faster than expected. This town was a polished version of Deadwick—the houses were bigger, the grass was greener, and even the dogs looked happier. I pulled into the driveway of 305 Sherman Street. How fitting my TV dad had a TV house: a two-story brick structure that was sturdy and well-kept but not flashy. Outward appearances suggested the Gillespie family was comfortable, not rich. I couldn’t wait to get inside.
I pulled my brown paper bag of sleepover stuff out of the backseat of the van and walked up the driveway. Dad opened the front door.
“Welcome!” he said.
I hugged Dad and held onto him tight, relieved he still smelled like woodsy aftershave and McDonald’s.
“Come in, come in,” Dad said, ushering me inside. Waiting in the hallway was a woman I’d guess was in her late thirties, but the fake tan made her look older. I opened my arms to give Kim a hug, but she extended a hand full of acrylic nails instead. She had a French manicure, chipped on one nail. She was different than I’d expected.
“Kim,” she said, watching me. “Nice to meet you.”
I took her hand and smiled, mouth closed. “Nice to meet you too.” I’d try again for a hug before I left tomorrow.
“Let me give you the grand tour,” Dad said with a wink. He set my paper bag to the side of the foyer.
We walked through the living room first. Two shabby beige couches and a TV took up most of the space. A bin of thick blankets sat next to one of the couches. The walls were covered from floor to ceiling with framed black-and-white family photos—trips to Six Flags, first communions, birthday parties, the kids running through sprinklers, the kids waiting in line for the ice cream truck, the kids holding up their first lost teeth. Look at us, they shouted. See all the places we’ve been, the things we’ve done, how adorable we are. My chest tightened as I saw all I’d missed.
We moved on to the kitchen. Evidence of a busy family covered the refrigerator. Alphabet magnets held up report cards, baby shower invitations, and to-do lists. A few Christmas cards had already been taped to the side. I thought back to before my mother’s arrest, when all our neighbors in Deadwick sent us Christmas cards. Mom let me tape them around the doorframe between the living room and the kitchen. I shook the thought away.
Dad showed me the dining room, where a six-person table stood. Along one wall was a china cabinet, full of Precious Moments figurines and other fragile pieces. A LEGO set was scattered next to the cabinet. Kim drifted behind us from room to room. I felt her eyes on the back of my head, scrutinizing me while I couldn’t see her. I tried to focus on Dad’s tour.
We walked down a hallway, and Dad pointed out the downstairs bathroom. We headed back toward the staircase, and I noticed a little door built in underneath it.
“What’s this?” I asked, reaching for the handle.
“Our seasonal closet,” Dad said, gesturing for me to open the door. “Holiday decorations and wrapping paper and stuff. No one ever goes in there.”
I ducked my head and stepped inside the small, unfinished room. Wreaths, Christmas stockings, Easter baskets, a big sewing kit, Halloween costumes, and more filled the room. The closet was stuffy, nothing special, but I liked the intimacy of it, as though it were hiding secrets in its exposed insulation.
Dad gestured for me to follow him. He opened a sliding-glass door in the living room that led to the backyard. I stepped out onto the patio and into a chilly evening. The sky was just starting to darken.
The Gillespies’ yard had a swing set in one corner, a trampoline in another. On the patio were a couple chairs and a grill. Dad paused at the grill, holding the lid handle. When I stopped looking around and focused on him, he lifted the lid with a flourish.
“Ta-da!” he said. On the grill were a dozen beef patties.
He’d remembered. I blinked back tears.
“Now,” he said, “for a lesson.” He grabbed an apron—I cook for kisses embroidered on it in bubbly lettering—from the patio chair and tied it around his waist. He fired up the grill.
“First, we sprinkle garlic and onion salt on the patties,” he explained as he worked. “Then a few splashes of Worcestershire sauce.” The meat was still raw, yet already my mouth watered.
“Never press down on the burger while cooking,” Dad said. “You’ll squeeze all the juices out. Only flip your patties once—about three minutes on each side. And finally, we’ll toast and butter the buns.”
I stayed quiet, but thrilled at the normalcy of grilling in the backyard with my dad. When the burgers and buns were ready, Dad and I brought the platters of food back inside and set them on the kitchen counter. “I’ll introduce you to the kids while we let the burgers rest for a few minutes.” Before I could ask, he added, “So the juices can redistribute into the meat.”
I followed him to the hallway stairs.
“Kids,” Dad called up, “come down and meet Rose.”
I braced myself, eager to meet them. Someone thumped down the stairs. Two others plodded behind.
I met Anna, the six-year-old, first. She grinned at me, two front teeth missing, a good omen. Dad put his hand on her shoulder.
“Anna, this is Rose Gold,” he said a little nervously.
I crouched down at the same time Anna stepped forward, and we landed in a tight hug. “Your hair smells nice,” Anna whispered, twirling a strand around her fingers. I imagined the two of us building sand castles at the beach, me pushing her on the swings at the park, her inviting me to a tea party.
“Rose, this is Billy Jr.,” Dad said. A skinny boy of eleven stood with his hands in his pockets, not meeting my eyes. He looked uncomfortable, but then, I guessed all boys that age did. He gave me a small wave before returning his hand to his pocket.
“And this is Sophie,” Dad went on. The thirteen-year-old girl stood on the middle of the staircase, arms crossed. She had mild acne and braces. What I wouldn’t have given to have had braces at her age.
I smiled at her, mouth closed. She smiled back, then peered out the front window at the street. “You drive a van?” She sounded unimpressed—and a little rude.
I had expected my new siblings and stepmom to welcome me with open arms. I thought they’d be as excited about me as I was about them. So far everyone but Anna seemed apathetic.
“Sophie,” Kim called from the kitchen, “help me put dinner on the table.”
Sophie trotted past me without a word. I tried to forget the bad feeling; we had the entire night to turn this first impression around.
“Why don’t we sit down, kids?” Dad said. His kids included me. I was one of his kids. I beamed, pretending to examine my nails so he wouldn’t notice how pathetically happy I was to be one of their group.
“Can I help with anything?” I asked.
He shook his head.
We reentered the dining room. The table had been filled to the brim with toppings and condiments.
Anna, Billy Jr., and I took seats at the table.
“That’s Mommy’s seat,” Anna said, pointing at the chair I’d chosen. I jumped up, wincing.
Billy Jr. rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t matter, Anna.”
“Don’t roll your eyes at your sister,” Dad said.
Billy Jr. sighed and took a bag of Goldfish crackers out of his pocket. He ate them ten at a time, like a toddler without self-control.
“Put those away. You’ll ruin your appetite,” Dad grumbled.
Billy Jr. slid the crackers back into his pocket.
“Where should I sit?” I asked them.
Anna patted the seat next to her. I sat in it. She started playing with my hair again. I had forgotten how good it felt to be doted on.
Kim came in with the plate of burgers, and Sophie followed close behind with the buns. Dad filled everyone’s glasses with milk. Once we were all seated at the table, Dad started to say grace. Kim bowed her head and closed her eyes, but the kids just stared at the burgers. I decided to bow my head but keep my eyes open, to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Nothing happened, though; the kids sat there, waiting.
When Dad was finished, he rubbed his hands together. “Okay, Rose, we have five cheese options for tonight’s meal: American, Cheddar, Jack, Swiss, and provolone. You’ve got yellow or Dijon mustard, as well as ketchup, mayonnaise, and barbecue sauce. And here we have tomatoes, lettuce, and red onion. The world is your oyster. Go nuts.”
I didn’t know where to start or which options to choose. I watched Kim make a burger for Anna before serving herself. Billy Jr. was halfway through his first sandwich by the time I picked out a patty and bun. I marveled at how quickly the kid could put away food. I hoped he’d take seconds so I could too. I carefully sliced a tomato and pulled a piece of lettuce from the head.
“Have you been to Indiana before, Rose?” Dad asked.
“No, first time,” I said. Everyone kept stealing glances at me when they thought I wasn’t looking. I pretended not to notice, piling red onion atop the tomato.
“Well, welcome, then,” Dad said. “We’re all so glad you could make it.”
They ate in awkward silence for a few minutes. I wondered if they were always this quiet, or if I made them uncomfortable.
Kim spoke up. “How was the drive? Not much to see along the way, was there?”
“It wasn’t bad,” I said. “A lot of cornfields, but this was my first road trip, so it was kind of fun. I bought Doritos and played the alphabet game.”
“How nice,” Kim said at the same time Billy Jr. muttered, “By yourself?”
I squirted ketchup and mustard onto my bun, spreading them evenly with a kitchen knife. I arranged each ingredient just so, as though my burger might be on the cover of a food magazine.
Billy Jr. stared at me, incredulous. “Just eat it already,” he said under his breath.
“Leave Rose alone,” Dad said. He watched me expectantly.
I cleared my throat and picked up the sandwich, inhaling the scent of chargrilled meat. I opened my mouth wide and put the burger inside, making sure I got a little piece of every ingredient. I suspected the first bite was the most important. After that, the burger would become less art, more fuel.
I closed my teeth around the sandwich and bit hard. I let the mixture roll around inside my mouth: the tanginess of the mustard, the crunch of the lettuce, and the salty, juicy patty. The burger was absolutely delicious. They’d gone to all this trouble, just for me.
I made satisfied noises, even dancing my head around a little to show my pleasure. Dad smiled at Kim. After a minute of watching me, they went back to the food on their own plates. We all ate quietly.
“So your mom is in prison?” Sophie said flatly.
“Sophie,” Dad scolded, turning to Kim for support. But she was looking at me, waiting for my response.
I cleared my throat. “About two years now.”
“You must hate her, huh?” Billy Jr. said, eyes trained on his mom. When Kim didn’t discourage him, he added, “If everything you say is true.”
“This isn’t appropriate for the dinner table,” Dad snapped, an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there when he chided Sophie.
Sophie flashed Billy Jr. a look. Neither of them acknowledged our father. I felt sorry for Dad and even sorrier for myself. I bit my lip.
In a low tone, Kim spoke up. “They’re just trying to learn more about Rose Gold.”
“What I don’t get,” Sophie said, “is why you didn’t just eat or brush your teeth. Anna knew how to brush her own teeth a year ago.”
I managed to stop my jaw from dropping, but stared at Sophie, unsure how the conversation had taken such a fast turn. Mom always said you had to give bullies a taste of their own medicine. And sure, I would have liked to smash Sophie’s burger in her face, but hadn’t I decided I wanted to be nothing like my mother? Besides, Dad and Kim would never let me join their ranks if I wasn’t nice to their kids. Maybe having a sister meant wanting to shove food in her face 60 percent of the time.
Anna grinned to show me her teeth. “I floss too. Right, Mommy?”
“That’s right, honey.” The tension on Kim’s face morphed into pity. “Rose, we were so sorry to hear about all that happened to you growing up.”
I smiled tightly. “Thanks, Kim.” I hoped they would take a hint and realize I didn’t want to discuss the past. I had been recovering steadily for almost three years, but people still liked me more as a weakling than as the healthy woman I’d become. I needed a subject change, fast.
I gave Billy Jr. my warmest smile. “I’ve always wanted a brother.”
“Half brother,” Sophie mumbled to her plate.
My cheeks flamed. Dad turned to Kim again, expecting her to say something, but she took a long drink of milk.
“A sister too,” I added, thinking maybe Sophie felt left out.
“Half sister,” Billy Jr. corrected me.
I couldn’t win with these two. They were like Cinderella’s evil stepsisters.
“Enough,” Dad barked at Billy Jr. “Is this the kind of man you want to grow up to be? One who bullies people weaker than you?”
Billy Jr. lowered his eyes.
Dad gave me an apologetic glance, then turned to Sophie. “How was practice today?”
Sophie launched into a ten-minute explanation of the new drills their basketball coach had the team do. I had no idea what any of it meant, but I was relieved not to have all five Gillespies staring at me, at least for a little while. I tried to appear interested while I finished my burger. This was not how I’d expected dinner to go.
I had to try again—maybe sports were the way in. I wished I were more of an athlete.
“Did you guys watch the London Olympics?” I asked when Sophie stopped talking. “I loved Gabby Douglas, especially her routine on the uneven bars.”
Billy Jr. rolled his eyes. “That was two years ago.”
Dad gave his son a withering glare. “Rose was a little busy in the summer of 2012, what with serving as a star witness in a criminal trial and all. She didn’t have the luxury of sitting around in her pajamas all day, like you.”
Billy Jr. stared at his plate but didn’t say anything. Kim gave Dad a pleading look. He ignored her. I felt a little bad about the way he was beating Billy Jr. up, but I was also bursting with joy that he was defending me instead of his son. Besides, Billy Jr. deserved to get in trouble. He was a brat.
Kim turned to me. “We all love watching the gymnastics team. Gabby Douglas was our favorite too.” I guessed she was ready to play peacemaker, anything to break the tension between her husband and son. We continued eating in silence.
When Billy Jr. had finished his second burger, I figured I could take another one too. Kim was asking Sophie about her teammate’s injured ankle and whether she’d be starting at this weekend’s game. I leaned forward.
“Could you please pass the buns . . . Dad?” I murmured.
Kim’s head jerked toward me. Sophie stopped speaking. Their eyes met across the table. Dad pretended not to notice and passed me the plate.
I broke the silence with a compliment—this always worked for my mother. “Your house is beautiful, Kim,” I said. “I love how cozy it is, with all the family photos in every room.”
Kim smiled stiffly at me. Dad rested his hand on hers.
“We’ve been very blessed with these three,” Kim said, nodding at her kids. “They’re not angels, but we think we got pretty lucky.”
Anna beamed. Billy Jr. rolled his eyes. Sophie winced.
Dad put his arm around Kim, lightening up. “We’d have liked to have one more, but—”
“Dad,” Sophie groaned, mortified. “Gross.”
Anna tugged on my arm. “We’re going to sleep in a tent,” she said, excited.
I looked around, confused.
“We’re going to Yellowstone next summer,” Dad explained. “On a camping trip.”
The whole family perked up at the mention of the trip. They spoke over one another in their eagerness.
“We’re going to rent canoes,” Sophie said.
“And roast marshmallows,” Anna announced.
“I get to build the bonfire,” Billy Jr. added. “And we’re going to go fishing. Right, Dad?” He peered at our father so earnest and full of hope that I realized he might not be a brat after all. Maybe he was just a kid who wanted his father’s approval, who didn’t know how to act around his long-lost sister.
Dad nodded and grinned, his bad mood gone.
“When is the big trip?” I asked.
“Over the July Fourth holiday,” Kim said, relaxing a little. She smiled at the kids’ excitement. She was pretty when she smiled. “We haven’t gone camping in years, not since before Anna was born.”
