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  “You would too if you slept in your own shit,” Marshall said.

  Dory gave him a look. “Marshall, don’t say shit. Besides, humans have an odor, too—we just don’t notice it as much in ourselves.”

  “I notice it when it’s old Mrs. Morrissey,” he said. “Phew!”

  “This isn’t a bad smell,” Dory said, but she was going to have a tough time proving it. She took a deep breath to show us how much she enjoyed the scent, but she coughed a bit on the exhale.

  “I saw baby pigs born once,” I said, just to prove I was not a complete idiot about this farming thing.

  “You did? When Grandad was still alive?” Dory asked.

  I nodded. “The part I remember best is that he had to clip their teeth right after they were born so they wouldn’t rip their mother’s belly when they nursed.”

  “Gross!” Iris said, holding her arm straight out, her hand up like a traffic cop. “That is definitely more information than I ever wanted to know about pigs.” She stomped ahead of us and out of the barn.

  Lunch was hot dogs and fries for those of us who allowed ourselves to eat, and a salad made with graying lettuce that must have been lying around the vegetable barn all week for Iris. No dressing, of course. Plus, she tossed it in the trash after about three bites. We managed to steer Dory past the crafts barns—there wasn’t room in that van for a hand-painted saw or a rag rug—and over to the sheep dog trials.

  Marshall got into watching the dogs run side to side, obeying their owner’s commands, herding five sheep at a time into a small pen. “That is so cool,” he said. “I’d like to have a dog like that.”

  “Why? So he could herd the bugs in your bedroom?” Iris said.

  “I don’t have bugs in my bedroom.”

  “Right.”

  “Mom, do I have bugs in my bedroom?”

  “Iris,” Dory said. “Please don’t taunt him.”

  “I’m not! He leaves food on the floor in there. He’s probably got bugs.”

  Marshall’s face tightened and his fists clenched. He shoved his face as close to his sister’s as he could. “I don’t have bugs! I do not have bugs!”

  Iris pushed him away and before you could say Australian sheep dog, they were swinging at each other. Dory had to get between them and grab their arms. People around us were staring so I stared back.

  “What is the matter with the two of you?” Dory said.

  “I don’t know about Slugger, but I’m bored to tears,” Iris told her.

  Dory thrust the fair booklet at her daughter. “Well then, what do you want to do? Or should we just leave?”

  Leaving sounded like the best option to me. I liked the fair fine, but I’d been away from home all day already and I hadn’t even gotten out of Iowa. If we were going on this trip, let’s go, is how I felt.

  But suddenly Iris’s eyes lit up. “They have horses here. Show horses. Thoroughbreds. We missed that barn.” She looked at her mother. “Please?”

  “I’m tired of those smelly barns,” Marshall said. “I want to go on some rides.”

  Dory looked sick and tired of both of them, and it occured to me that this was the kind of moment I’d been brought along to deal with. I figured I probably ought to start earning my keep.

  “I’ll take Marshall on some rides if you two want to go see the horses,” I said. Dory gave me a grateful smile and we agreed to meet in half an hour. I liked going on the rides, anyway, even though, in this case, I wouldn’t have the pleasure of holding on to my companion.

  When we got to the midway, Marshall couldn’t decide which ride he wanted to go on first. “I usually like the Ferris wheel the best,” he said, looking up at it nervously. I suggested we start with something easier and work up to it.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “How about the Tilt-A-Whirl?”

  So we did that twice, and then bumper cars, and then it was time to either do the Ferris wheel or forget it and go meet Iris and Dory. We got in line and inched our way to the front. I checked my watch, hoping we wouldn’t be more than a few minutes later than planned.

  “Are we late?” Marshall wanted to know.

  I shrugged. “I think we’re still okay. We can make it.”

  But as we got closer I could tell Marsh was having a problem. He was breathing really fast and licking his lips. He couldn’t stop himself from looking up to the top of the wheel. When there was only one couple ahead of us, he suddenly exploded. “It’s too late!” he yelled at me. “We have to go now! It’s too damn late!”

  He bolted out of the line and started running back to the place we’d left Dory and Iris.

  “Marshall, wait! Wait for me!”

  I didn’t catch up to him until right before we saw them. He slowed down a little so we could approach together.

  “We didn’t even get to go on the Ferris wheel,” he screamed on the verge of tears. “Robin goofed around so long on the baby rides, we didn’t have time! You know I love the Ferris wheel the best!”

  I was dumbfounded at his ability to rewrite the truth, but I knew better than to argue with him. He was furious already.

  “I’m sorry, Marsh,” I said, hoping to calm him down. “I wasn’t keeping my eye on the time.”

  “I hate you, you dumb bitch!” he screamed.

  Dory grabbed his arm. “Marshall! Don’t you ever say that to anyone! Do you hear me?” Marshall quieted down a bit, sulking and kicking up dirt with the toe of his sneaker. “Apologize to Robin right this minute.” It was a rare moment of anger on Dory’s part, but she couldn’t sustain it. When Marshall didn’t respond, she melted and pulled him in to hug, then she apologized to me.

  “I don’t know what came over him, Robin. I’m so sorry.”

  I shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I messed up about the Ferris wheel.”

  Marshall curled his lip at me, and I was pretty sure he’d already convinced himself that the whole thing really was my fault. He and his mother started back toward the van, arms wrapped around each other, while Iris and I stood for a moment looking after them.

  “He was scared to go on it, wasn’t he?”

  I wasn’t sure how to answer her, whether it was okay to betray the little creep who’d just called me a bitch by ratting him out to his obnoxious sister.

  “You don’t have to tell me. I know. That’s how he gets when he’s scared. Mean as hell. Mom can’t seem to add two and two, though. She can’t believe her little angel has turned into the Antichrist, so it’s easier to blame everybody else.”

  I nodded my head, the closest I’d come to agreeing with Iris since she’d showed up in Iowa.

  We spent that night at the Moonlight Motel just outside Blue Earth, Minnesota. I kind of liked the place—I mean, it was old and dingy, but one wall of the room was painted dark blue with a big smiling moon in the corner and stars falling down all around it. The people who owned it were old, but very helpful. Dory was going to rent two rooms, one for Marshall and herself, and one for Iris and me, but the old woman suggested that, since we were all family, we could fit in one room and save some money. “There’s queen-size beds in ’em. My son’s idea—folks seem to like ’em. So there’d be plenty a’ room for two a’ yas in one bed.”

  Dory thanked her and rented just one room, though obviously she could have afforded two, then asked the woman for a recommendation on where we might get some dinner. The diner down the street seemed to be the only thing still open, so we piled our suitcases in the room and walked there. Iris, of course, started complaining the moment the old woman was out of earshot—at least she had that much sense.

  “Why are we all stuffed into one room, Mother? Just because that old lady thought we should be?”

  “We’ll be fine,” Dory said.

  “Couldn’t you have just told her we wanted two rooms? Why do you always do whatever people want you to do?”

  Dory forced a smile. “It’ll be like a slumber party, Iris. What’s the problem?”

  “The problem is we hav
e to share beds. A queen size isn’t that big.”

  I felt so exhausted from listening to her all day, I wanted to say, You spoiled brat! You’re the one who’s always telling your mother what to do. She’s driving you all over the country and you’re bitching about having to share a queen-size bed for one lousy night! But I managed to stuff my anger back down. I was along to help Dory, and me getting mad at Iris was just going to make us all more miserable.

  Marshall and I were both silent except when we ordered the very same meal from the waitress: cheese omelets and hot cocoa. I tried not to look at him, and he did the same for me. Iris managed to keep up the argument with her mother so Dory didn’t notice that Iris’s turkey sandwich was being picked into tiny pieces but not actually eaten. By the time we got back to the Moonlight Motel, I was so tired I could have fallen asleep in the bathtub. The queen bed looked great to me, even if I did have to share it with the Queen herself.

  That was a night to remember. It must have been about two o’clock in the morning when Marshall woke up screaming. At first I couldn’t remember where I was, and then, when I did, I figured the motel must be on fire or something. But no, he was just having a bad dream, which I guess is not that unusual for Marshall these days. Of course, he’s not usually sleeping in a small room with three other people when this happens.

  Dory knew right away what was going on. She shook him awake gently and then cooed to him, “It’s okay, Marsh, honey. You’re just dreaming.”

  Iris popped up in bed, her hair a messy golden nest. “God, Marshall, you scared the crap out of me!”

  I sat up, too, since everybody else was up. “Is he okay?”

  Now that he was awake, Marshall was angry. Nothing like having a big audience around to witness your nightmare. He shrugged off his mother’s hug. “I’m fine. Let me go.”

  “Yeah, you’re fine, but the rest of us are in cardiac arrest,” Iris said.

  “Iris, go back to sleep,” Dory told her.

  “That’s so likely. My heart’s pounding like mad.”

  “Shut up, you idiot!” Marshall yelled at her.

  A few more heated exchanges occurred before we all laid our heads back on our pillows. But the mattress, which had seemed comfortable and plenty large enough a few hours before, had suddenly turned into a thin, lumpy pad that sagged in the middle and threw Iris and me together elbow to elbow.

  “I’m never sharing a bed with you again,” she crabbed. “You’re hogging the whole thing.”

  “I can’t help it.” I said. “It sags in the middle.”

  “Yeah, so do you.”

  I was pretty sure Dory had heard that comment, but she was pretending to have slipped magically back into sleep in record time.

  I tried to ignore Iris, too, but her groans and grumbles kept erupting just as I was about to nod off. We infuriated each other for another hour or so, and then, finally, I got up, located my notebook in the dark, and retreated to the bathroom. As long as I couldn’t sleep anyway, I figured I might as well sit on the toilet lid and write Chris a letter. At least now I had things to say.

  Dear Chris,

  It’s four A.M. and I’m sitting in a bathroom at the Moonlight Motel in Blue Earth, Minnesota. The trip from hell has begun. Whatever I might have said before about my cousins from Chicago, I was wrong. They are MUCH crazier than I ever knew—possibly even psychotic.

  Iris and Marshall insult me constantly, but I guess I’m lucky because they actually slug it out with each other. Meanwhile, my aunt Dory ignores it all and pretends we’re having a lovely vacation together. And this was only the first day! We went to the Iowa State Fair this afternoon, or I guess it was yesterday, and spent about an hour looking at large vegetables. Dory is all nostalgic about her Iowa roots or something. The kids thought the whole fair stank.

  Remember last year when we went on the Ferris wheel about seven times? That was so much fun. Remember how from the top you can see all over the countryside and how pretty that is? Just thinking about last summer reminds me how much I miss you. I promised myself I wouldn’t go on and on about missing you, but since you said you missed me, I think I should be able to say it, too. I miss your arms around me. I miss your voice. I miss your smell. I miss that great thing that is YOU. Especially now, at four o’clock in the morning, when I’m hiding out in the bathroom so I don’t wake up my lunatic relatives—I MISS YOU!

  Your letter sounds like you’re having a great time. How are your roommates by now? Is that Rob guy still so stuck up? If they think you’re a hick, what would they think of me? Have you gone back to St. Peter’s yet, or the Coliseum? And what the heck are Spanish Steps? Have your classes started?

  For some reason I feel like I’m asking you the same questions your mother’s asking you. Sorry if I’m boring. I’m mostly not mad at you anymore, although once in a while I think about how great our last summer together would have been and then I get sad. I AM still mad at your parents.

  Franny is going out with Des Sanders. And my mother’s still dating the giant. Are there any girls on your program? I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. Do you all live in the same dorm? Are there gorgeous Italian girls everywhere? Don’t tell me I shouldn’t be jealous because how can I not be?

  I’m so tired I have to stop writing—my eyes keep closing. Tomorrow I’ll mail this off to the Via della Vittorio, which sounds so romantic and beautiful. Is it? Do you still miss me, or are you too busy having a great Italian life?

  Love, love, love,

  Robin

  To tell you the truth, I wasn’t that tired. It was just too frustrating trying to say what I meant in a letter. When I read over what I’d written I couldn’t even tell if it sounded like me or not, but I decided I’d better mail it anyway, so Chris didn’t think I’d forgotten him or something.

  By the time I got back into bed, Iris was asleep. I finally fell asleep too just about the time it was getting light around the edges of the window shade. Dory turned the alarm off at eight A.M. but nobody got up. Around nine thirty she gave us all a shake.

  “Get in and out of the bathroom quickly, guys. I’m going to go pick up some coffee and muffins at that place down the road so we can get going. Lots of driving to do today.”

  Iris groaned but managed to get up fast enough to be first into the bathroom. Marshall stood in the motel room doorway and screamed at his mother’s back.

  “Chocolate milk! Get me a big carton of chocolate milk!”

  “Okay!”

  The kid is barely awake and he’s barking at Dory already. “Do you order everybody else around the way you do your mother?” I asked him.

  He looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

  Some of my leftover anger from yesterday crept out. “I mean, you don’t ask for things—you demand them.”

  Marshall scowled at me. “I asked her.”

  “No you didn’t. You said, ‘Get me chocolate milk!’ That’s not asking.”

  “What do you care? Mom doesn’t care.”

  “Well, I’m sure she’s used to it, but that doesn’t mean she likes it. Nobody would like it.”

  Marshall wrinkled his nose at me. “You’re crazy,” he said, then marched to the bathroom door and started pounding. “Hurry up, Virus, it’s my turn!” Iris, of course, screamed back at him. I should have brought earmuffs.

  We were ready to roll by the time Dory got back with the caffeine and pastry. And chocolate milk, of course. After a quick stop at the post office so I could get stamps and mail my letter, she announced she wanted to get across the rest of Minnesota and into South Dakota before stopping for lunch. She told me to rest in the morning while she drove, so I could take over in the afternoon. The car was quiet for a change—both Iris and Marshall fell asleep the minute they’d finished eating. I didn’t really feel like sleeping, even though it was only Minnesota we were driving through and not Italy, it was still my first vacation and I was sort of excited. Minnesota didn’t look that different from Iowa, most
ly farmland stretching out on all sides, but just the idea that I was in a different state made me look at everything more closely.

  I started wondering what the other states would look like. Would the mountains in Colorado look the same as the mountains in New Mexico? Were there mountains in Arizona, too, or only desert? What did it look like where Dad lived? Just the thought that we were actually headed there, that I’d actually be staying in his house with his family made me feel dizzy. I’d never visited my dad at his own place, even when he lived in Iowa. It was such a normal thing to do, but it felt weird to me. I mean, I hardly even knew the guy.

  Dory was sipping her enormous cup of coffee as she drove. She had gray circles around her eyes and I wondered if that had happened overnight, or if I just hadn’t noticed them before.

  “Dory, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, honey. What is it?” She smiled at me in a sad sort of way, which seemed like it was probably her real smile. A twenty-watt smile, conserving energy.

  “I was just wondering about my mom and dad. When they first got married. Mom doesn’t talk about it much. Did you know Dad very well?”

  She shook her head. “Not that well. They were juniors at the university and I’d just started college in Chicago so we didn’t see each other very often. I did spend a week with them the summer after you were born. That was kind of strange.”

  “How come?”

  “I don’t know. They seemed so old to me. Here they were married, with a baby, living in a dumpy apartment—I couldn’t understand it. I’d just gotten away from all that down-home farm life for the first time. I was going to clubs and art openings and trying hard to put my small town past behind me, and here was my sister settling in to middle age when she was only twenty.”

  I brought my bare feet up onto the seat and hugged my knees. “Well, I don’t think it was her first choice. If she hadn’t gotten pregnant . . .”

  “Oh, sure, honey, I understand it now. But at the time it was just the last thing I could imagine.”

  “But you got married and had kids as soon as you graduated.”