The Two-Family House(36)

“Mother, please. I’m not late. If you had just read my note—”

“Stop talking to me about notes! I won’t be tormented like this!”

Experience taught Judith a few things. She stopped defending herself. She stopped responding to the accusations. She learned that if she apologized right away, the recovery time was faster. So she apologized, over and over, until apologizing felt just the same as having an ordinary conversation. She grew accustomed to it.

In the old days, Judith might have talked to her aunt Helen about the situation. But she felt uncomfortable doing that now. Ever since Teddy’s accident two years ago, Judith’s mother and her aunt barely spoke to each other. Things had been bad before then, but after Sol’s party, they had gotten worse. For years Judith had been trying to figure out the source of the tension between them. She paid close attention whenever the two of them were together. But no matter how attentive she was, she couldn’t uncover the source of the hostility. All she knew was that she no longer felt right talking to her aunt about anything having to do with her mother. She talked to Aunt Helen about school, her sisters and even her father. But discussing her mother felt like a betrayal. The topic wasn’t difficult to avoid—Aunt Helen never asked about her mother anyway.

Rose started “worrying” about Judith a few months after the accident. She worried about the other children too, but since Teddy was home with her all day and Mimi and Dinah still went to the school across the street, Judith was the primary object of her mother’s distress.

Judith knew that if she went directly home after school each day, she might be able to prevent some of her mother’s outbursts. But, as much as she wanted to avoid causing her mother additional anxiety, she knew that if she gave up her outings and changed her routine to pacify Rose, her own obedient nature would take over, and slowly the few freedoms she had managed to retain would be lost. There were so many days that she longed to go home—she wanted to play with Teddy and her sisters, or she wanted to have a piece of the apple cake she knew was left over from dinner the night before. But even on those days she forced herself to walk to the library. If she didn’t have any homework, she would pick out a book to read or look through the college brochures she borrowed from the school counselor. Eventually she stopped looking for books. The brochures became her escape.

Judith would open the college booklets and imagine herself in the photographs, walking on the campuses and chatting with the students. She would live in a dormitory with other girls her age, and no one would cry if she was five minutes late returning from a class. Her mother wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore—there would be dorm monitors to keep track of her.

Judith was just a junior in high school, but one of the counselors had spoken to her in the fall about the possibility of graduating early, in the same class as her cousin Harry. “I really think you should consider accelerating your program here,” Mrs. Morhardt suggested. “You’ve already taken most of the classes we have to offer, and you’ll have more than enough credits to graduate at the end of this year. Why waste time reviewing what you already know when you could be expanding your knowledge?” Mrs. Morhardt made it sound so simple. When she asked Judith if her parents had given their permission, Judith told her yes even though she hadn’t dared to mention it to them. The few friends Judith had at school didn’t know about her plan. In truth, she didn’t consider it a plan at all because she hardly gave it any thought. She had gotten some forms from Mrs. Morhardt and applied to a few colleges back in December, but she was convinced that none of her applications would be accepted. Judith couldn’t imagine that anyone would actually take the time to reply to her letters. It was already April, and there had been no news. Judith would tell Mrs. Morhardt that she would stay in high school and graduate with her proper class. She was resigned to another year of afternoons at the library.

Judith looked at the clock again: 4:48. She got up to stretch her legs and ran her finger over the top of one of the bookcases. It was caked with dust and turned her finger black. What an uninviting place this was. Three round tables had been thrown between the bookcases, with mismatched wooden chairs surrounding them. The only light source was a dim fluorescent fixture that flickered and hummed every few minutes. The clock ticked. Soon it would be time to leave.

The dull thud of footsteps on the stone stairs startled her. No one ever walked up to the reading area at this hour. Then she heard a familiar voice calling her name. “Judith? Are you here?” It was Harry. Had her mother been so hysterical that she sent him over to the library to find her? The thought of it nauseated her and she wanted to hide behind the bookcases. Instead, she sank back into her chair and covered her face with her hands.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked. He was watching her from the top of the steps. Judith moved her hands away from her face and stood up. “I’m leaving right now,” she barked. “It’s not even five o’clock! My mother knows I don’t get home until five-thirty on school days! I can’t believe she sent you here to get me!”

Harry stared. “Whoa. Calm down. I don’t know what you’re talking about, but your mom didn’t send me.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because my mom sent me. To give you these.” He held up two thick envelopes.

“What? Where did she get those?”