All the Ugly and Wonderful Things(67)

Jana was fascinated. She came back the next day and, instead of her younger sister, she brought a friend of hers. Someone who was a lot more popular than Leslie. That was Leslie’s consolation prize for losing the lifeguard.

Jana and her friend grilled Wavy about everything, which was funny since she hardly said more than a word at a time. Sometimes she didn’t even need a word, like when she used me to demonstrate some sexual position that seemed completely ridiculous when I was fifteen. I couldn’t imagine two grown-ups doing that with straight faces, and when I started giggling, Wavy collapsed on top of me, laughing.

They even got Donal involved. Luring him upstairs with cookies, Jana said, “Is your sister really getting married?”

“Kellen loves her. When we go swimming buck naked, he kisses her and lets her rub her boobies on him. It’s gross. He says, ‘Oh, Wavy.’”

Donal tried to make his voice deep and Wavy, who’d been drawing a dinosaur tattoo on his shoulder, flicked him on the back of the head.

“You go skinny-dipping with him?” Jana said.

That raised Wavy even higher in Jana’s eyes, but it reminded Leslie of her swimming pool tragedy. It left me with divided loyalties. I loved Wavy, but Leslie was my sister. I was sad and relieved when the two weeks were up. Maybe Leslie could get her lifeguard back, if she still wanted him.

Mom had planned the visit the way she wanted, but there was confusion about when Wavy was going back. Wavy was furious when she found out she wasn’t going home until after her birthday. Grabbing the calendar off the kitchen wall, she threw it down on the table and started counting off the days to indicate two weeks.

“Wavy, we’re going back on the twentieth. Your mother and I agreed.”

“You agreed. Not me,” Wavy said.

“I thought you’d like to spend your birthday with us.”

Wavy tapped her finger over the fourteen days again and she had a scary look in her eyes. A look that said she would do what she wanted.

“Goddamn it,” Dad yelled from the den, where he was probably tired of listening to Wavy’s mime-show argument. “Why not take her back tomorrow?”

“Because I don’t take orders from her.”

“Take her back tonight for all I care. Christ. I’m trying to work.”

Wavy slammed her hand on the table to bring Mom’s attention back to her.

“Don’t you act that way toward me, young lady.”

For a minute, she and Mom glared at each other. Then Wavy walked over and picked up the phone. I’d never seen her use one before, but she started dialing.

“Who are you calling?” Mom said.

“Kellen.”

“I don’t think so. You’re a guest here and you’ll go back when I say so.”

Mom came around the table and disconnected the call. From the look on Wavy’s face, I expected violence, but she won the argument with four words: “Guest? More like prisoner.”

In the morning, Mom packed us all in the car, even Leslie, who whined about it.

“Why do I have to go?” she said.

“We’re all going to drive up and spend Wavy’s birthday with your Aunt Val. Won’t that be nice? Happy birthday, Wavy.” Mom was so mad she looked like flames were going to shoot off her head.

“Why doesn’t Dad have to go?” Leslie said.

“Your father has to work. Do you have a job? No. You spent all summer at the pool, flirting with lifeguards. So shut up!”

Wavy and Donal didn’t seem fazed by Mom yelling, which made me wonder what they were used to, that he could go on happily playing with his cars in the front seat, while Mom blew a gasket.

The whipped cream on Mom’s shit sundae was that Wavy tricked her.

As we drove through Powell on our way to the farm, Wavy leaned forward and pointed for a turn.

“That’s not the way to the house, is it?” Mom said.

Wavy pointed for the turn again. Mom took it and drove down the street until Wavy said, “Here.”

“Cutcheon’s Small Engine? What’s that?”

“That’s where Kellen works.” Donal started to open his door, but Wavy stopped him.

“Now, look,” Mom said. “I’m dropping both of you off at home. I’m not leaving you here.”

Wavy slid her hand down my arm and was out of the car before Mom could drive off.

“Wavy!” Mom shouted as the door slammed. She scowled as Wavy walked toward the garage, but what could she do? Run after Wavy and force her into the car? After a minute, she drove off.

The cherry on Mom’s shit sundae was that when we got to the farmhouse, nobody was there. The back door was unlocked and dirty dishes were piled in the sink. Beer bottles and a full ashtray sat on the coffee table in the living room, next to a bunch of burned pieces of tin foil.

“It’s okay,” Donal said, when he saw the look on Mom’s face. “You can take me down to the ranch. That’s where I sleep anyway.”

“You don’t sleep up here?”

Donal gave Wavy’s it-is-what-it-is shrug.

The ranch looked like an armed compound you might see on the news. White supremacists or a religious cult. Past the gate stood two metal garages, and off in the trees a big metal barn. Clustered up by the road were four trailers, one with a deck on the front. Sitting on the deck, smoking, was a life-sized Barbie doll.