Bitterroot Crossing (28 page)

No word at all from Jenny. I tried not to read anything into it. I decided she was trying a cold turkey approach to life without Brazil.

When everyone had gone, including the cable man, who Mom had called immediately thinking that TV and computer would make us feel right at home, we’d all stood staring at our sleek, modern furniture looking completely out of place in the dismal, ancient family room or parlor as Mom had called it.

“It will look brighter in here once I clean the windows and hang some curtains,” Mom had said, but she’d sounded unsure.

I hung my favorite black sweater in the stuffy smelling closet, arranged my collection of stuffed animals at the foot of my bed, and limped down the hallway. There were only two faint lights, and they cast stretched, spooky shadows on the walls of the landing. I glanced out the small window at the top of the stairs. The beach looked deserted and uninviting. The black ocean swells looked glossy in the moonlight. I was never too fond of the ocean. It always seemed so bottomless and full of things that could bite off your legs or pull you down to your death. At night, it seemed especially scary.

Tyler and Raymond were already at the table covering their pizza slices with red pepper flakes and Parmesan cheese. Mom was at the counter pouring soda for everyone. The dogs were stretched out behind her on the black and white tile floor, while the cats circled her feet, rubbing their faces against her legs as she filled glasses. The animals were already at home in the new place. Of course, to them, any place was home as long as Mom was there.

I flipped open the pizza box. I was hungry enough to eat cold, greasy, completely fattening pizza.

Mom placed a glass in front of me. “Sorry, there’s no ice yet.” She scooted her chair to the table. “I’ll continue cleaning and unpacking while you’re at school. We should feel pretty settled in by tomorrow. Six weeks is still enough time to make some new friends before school lets out for summer.”

I broke the long string of cheese dangling between my mouth and the slice of pizza I was holding. Mom was staring at me as I chewed. I didn’t say anything but pretended to be very into my food. Just like that, little miss everything is wonderful thought I could walk into a new high school of strange faces and sweep up an entire crew of new friends.

“Raymond, can you hook up the computer in my room after dinner?” I asked. I had no intention of getting into a conversation with my mom about how great this new life was going to be.

“If you finish unpacking my clothes, I will. And that includes my underwear and socks,” Raymond said.

“Fine. As long as the underwear is clean.”

This comment made Tyler burst out laughing. Unfortunately, he had a mouthful of soda, and it sprayed over everything.

“Tyler!” Mom said.

“It was her fault,” Tyler complained.

Mom shook her head and wiped up the table with a handful of napkins and a look of satisfaction. “Our first dinner in our new house and it’s just like old times,” she said. Even though she wasn’t looking at me, the words were meant for my ears.

I looked pointedly at the fifth chair at the table, the empty chair. “It’s not like old times at all.”I folded the rest of the pizza up in my paper plate and limped to the trash to toss it. I knew I wasn’t making this any easier on Mom, but I couldn’t stop myself. She did not have to restart her high school existence.

Plunking down on the couch in the family room, I fished the phone out of my pocket and pressed two. I suddenly had an urge to talk to Dad.

“Hey Zilly, what’s up? Everyone alright?”

“Except for almost losing my toe, we all survived the move, physically at least.”

“What happened to your toe?” Dad asked. The sound of mumbling voices and dishes clanking flowed through the phone.

“Nothing. Thanks to the little piece of skin that is holding it on, I still have all ten.”

“Zilly, what’s wrong?” The fact that he had to ask was beyond annoying.

“Everything is great, Dad. Where are you? A restaurant?’

“I’m at dinner.” There was a pause. “Cynthia and I just sat down for a bite to eat.”

He always tried to make everything he did with Cynthia sound casual, like it was no big deal that he was dating someone other than Mom.

“Cynthia says hello,” he said.

I didn’t return the hello. I considered telling him to let her know that Nickelodeon was having a cartoon marathon over Memorial Day, but I held my tongue.

“The house is really old,” I said. “One good storm and we’ll be floating in the ocean.”

“You don’t need to worry, Sweetie. Those old houses are built much better than the new ones. Another bottle of Chablis, please,” he said. “Listen, Brazil, about next weekend, I can’t take you car shopping like I promised.”

It was to be expected, after all the day was a solid two. “Why not?”

“Something’s come up. But we’ll definitely go before the end of the month.”

“Whatever.”

“Don’t be mad, Zilly. I’ll call you tomorrow. Our food’s here.”

“Enjoy.”

“Brazil,” he said one last time, “go easy on your mom. This was not all her fault.” He spoke quietly into the phone, most likely to spare Cynthia from hearing about the crap from his former life.

“Bye, Dad. Safe landing.” It was something Mom and I always said to him when he was leaving the house for work. I snapped shut my phone, dropped it on the coffee table, and made a mental note never to call him on a day that was a solid two.

Raymond hovered over me with a big box. “My underwear awaits.” He dropped it onto the couch next to me.