Spider Brains: A Love Story (Book One) (26 page)

"Excuse me?"

"Excuse you." I said which I wish I hadn't because, and mom's not the abusive sort but she cracked me in the back of my head. "Ow." I put my hand on my head like she hurt me or something. "That's called child abuse."

"You know." Her face got this extreme shade of crimson and she sort of stammered before continuing, "You know, you have no idea what you're saying. If you're referring to
Paul
,"

I rolled my eyes.

"And, you can just erase that thought right out of your head because, and I'm going to say this for the last time,
Paul
and I are just friends."

Her footsteps to the sink landed hard and angrily on the floor. She banged around with some stray dishes, flipped on the water, got something out of the cupboard, slammed the cupboard door and breathed out hard. But, she wasn't through with me.

"I don't know how you get these things in your head."

"Oh. Well." I turned toward her in my chair. "Maybe it's because you're fawning all over him...
Paul
this and
Paul
that...
Paul
, want some dinner?
Paul
, want some
pie.
"

"Stop it." She turned off the water by flipping the handle down.

"
Paul
, want some of my juicy red lips!"

That did it.

"Now. Susie. I mean, now. Stop it." Any movement she'd shown to now, halted. Her head dropped to her chest and she started to cry but not like she used to, not in big sucking wallowing whelping cries. This time it was quiet, motionless and, still somehow all-consuming. When she spoke it was with a weakness I hadn't seen in her since we got the news dad had been killed, the phone call from the police telling us there had been an accident and we would be visited by the police who had been the first responders at the scene. She went weak then too.

"Susie." She didn't move her head off her chest. "You have no idea how much I miss your father. None." A sad soapy hand lifted out of the dishwater and brushed across the bottom of her nose leaving a few bubbles behind--it felt all comedy-tragedy. My stomach did a somersault. "He was my life long before you ever came along." Then, she looked over as if she were testing her words out and repeated the insult. "
Long
before." Like he was and he ever shall be her first love. My stomach somersaulted the other way.

My eyes squinted and I started to speak but she cut me off.

"No. You just wait one minute."

But, I refused to just sit there and let her have a go at me. "You have no idea! You have no idea! He loved me too, you know. And, I wish it had been you out there not him! Do you hear me!? You!"

I ran to my room, to my solace.

F
IFTY
- I'll Move Out When I'm Eighteen!

Dear Diary,

Mom will never ever realize how bad I miss dad. She's become such a socialite and with that "would-be a cool guy,"
Paul
. It's really quite disgusting. I can't imagine that dad's not looking down from the cosmos somewhere and freaking out.

He wouldn't be dead if we hadn't had that fight. It's all my fault.

He left because of me. Because of Moose. That poor deer. Still, if I hadn't confronted him about hunting, told him all of the bad things that come from it, that the karma he creates by killing will turn out to be his own undoing. And, whammo! Just moments after telling him, moments after ranting and raving about his fate, ShaBam! The snow plow creams him.

It's my fault he's dead.

He wouldn't have left.

He'd still be here today and mom and
Paul
wouldn't be finding new love with each other if not for me. I have no one to blame but myself.

I'm so miserable--so completely sad.

I'd put the final period onto the page when mom burst into my room unannounced and uninvited.

"Mother!" I rolled over onto a hip, pulled my diary into my stomach, hiding the fresh ink, and wiped my arm across my face.

"Look, Susie." She pushed the door open fast making it tap the wall behind it. "I'm sick and tired of our closed door policy of late. From now on, unless you're sleeping, this door will remain open. Understood?"

"Is that all? 'Cause if you're quite finished, I'd like to get back to, to, to
sleeping
!"

Mom glared at me and, with the svelteness of a hawk, she descended onto my diary where we ended up doing this sort of 'push-me-pull-you' thing with our arms until she arose victoriously with my diary in her hands holding it high above her head.

"Mother!" I flew off my bed and to my feet, jumping up and down trying to reach my diary that she now had clutched between her evil talons. "That is
my
diary!
My
private thoughts!"

Then, she turned all superior on me and, it's at that point I can honestly say, she quit being my friend and turned into a full-blown mother. "Young lady," she growled out, "your thoughts will not be
private
if you're still living under my roof."

I was awestruck. The audacity of her saying something basically sentencing me to life in prison here, was like the worst thing she could've ever done, aside from her cracking me in the back of the head, that is. I mean, God. Corporal punishment, 24/7 watch, and now absolutely, completely zero privacy and in my own room! I just couldn't wait to turn eighteen.

"Sit down this instant!" Mom's body did a little twist and turn and she got the book away from my grappling hands. "You sit in here and you wait for me. Do NOT shut this door, or else!"

Gah. Or else... or ELSE! I hated that phrase.

FIFTY ONE - The Truth Revealed

On the outside and safe from Morlson's attack was no picnic either. The sharp wind had a deafening quality to it. Plus, each time I tried to jettison over to pussy, my silk got slapped away by the force of yet, another gust.

"Pa-Lease!" I squealed out and kitty seemed to understand because she rubbed her arched back against the wall making it possible for me to merely step onto her. Easy
Breezy
!

I was safely sitting on Delilah, as she climbed down off the landing's ladder, when my mind whirled back to Rider.

He'd been trying to save me, not
mate
with me.

Oh, the horror. The horror!

Now, he was gone. It was my fault.

He died so that I might live.

FIFTY TWO - Can We Skip a Memory?

"I honestly have no idea what you're thinking." Mom's voice sounded weedy. Not like before, when she wrestled me for my diary.

My eyes left hers. Hers burned red and looked watery. I gazed out at the ending day, the sun dipped slow into the evening meaning only one thing-- it was another day closer to the
anniversary
. Something mom seemed to totally forget about.

The Neapolitan ice cream sky made me feel sadder.

Snow had been falling nonstop. It almost looked fake, the contrasting brilliant white against a glowing crimson backdrop broken up only by a few oak trees, telephone wires and a single jet heading somewhere, anywhere, out of New York.

Matt and I had walked to and from school, again, of course. Mom couldn't take me or pick me up. That was dad's job.

For the life of me, and
thankfully
, Paul had gone AWOL. At least, that's how it seemed to me. Anyway, he couldn't taxi us to and from school either. Both of them were useless.

"Do you even know that in a week it will be the anniversary of dad's death. Do you?"

She rolled her eyes at me!

"Gah!"

"What do you want from me, Susie? What am I supposed to do to make it so you think that I'm not ignorant?"

"There's nothing you
can
do." I meant it as a barb.

"Don't get snotty with me you little..." Her mouth pursed in a B consonant but she didn't say it. That would've been, like, the worst thing. "You need to think about what you're saying to me. To
me
!"

"It's like you don't even care."

And, that did it. Her eyes filled up fast, like right around his death, like days after it, like two months, three months...

"I care." Her warbled words caught in her throat, like someone had taken a knife to them. But, she recovered. "You don't understand..." I tried to interrupt but her hand flew up like one of the Supremes. And, she started to speak again, this time without allowing me to butt in, "You don't understand. I know you don't. I read your diary. Well, from around this time last year to now, anyway." She wiped her nose with a tissue. She dragged it out from a goiter sized lump inside the sleeve of her sweater.

"You had no right to."

"I have
every
right to." Then, she dared grab my hand. I pulled it into my stomach away from her but she grabbed it back, as if it were
hers
, and held it like a vice.

"You're my daughter. I'm worried about you."

Like, right. When does she worry? Between being busy at work or on her dates with
Paul
. I rolled my eyes again and turned away, my hand still being clung to by mom. "It wasn't your fault, Susie."

"What are you talking about." My words sounded vicious and I jerked my hand, hard, getting it free.

She looked defeated but wouldn't stop. "Okay." She paused and nodded her head as if she intended to take this to the very end. "Okay. Sure. We can do this. I can't imagine how it hasn't happened yet. So. Yes. Let's do this. Now."

Mom was getting all drama queen on me. I just blew out a fast stream of air, "Chsheee" and shook my head.

"What do you think happened that night?"

And, it was like all of everything, all of my pain and sadness, all of my guilt came flooding out. I mean. I just lost it.