Unspeakable Things(47)

“See how it’s sticky? Toss on some more flour and keep kneading until it’s smooth.” Mom punched her dough ball, pushing a loose hair from her eye with the flat outside of her thumb.

I dunked my hand into the flour’s velvet, letting it sift through my fingers.

“Don’t play with it.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know the store sells cinnamon rolls, right?”

Her voice was sharp. “You know they’re expensive and full of chemicals, right?”

I scooped a small handful of flour and sprinkled it over the top of my dough ball and then ran my hand up and down the rolling pin. “If you divorced him, we’d have more money. He doesn’t hardly sell any sculptures. He eats and drinks a lot. Mostly you pay the bills.”

Her lips tightened. She snatched the rolling pin from me and used it to flatten her dough until it was the height of cardboard laid flat. She dropped yellow pats of butter onto it, then sprinkled that with brown sugar and raisins. She began rolling from the end nearest her, keeping it tight.

“I love him,” she finally said. There was a tinge of defeat in her words.

I sensed an opening. “Of course you do, Mom. So do I.” I wasn’t sure if that last part was true, but she wanted to hear it. “We don’t have to stop loving him. I just think life would be easier if he wasn’t around.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about life.” She slid the chef’s knife from the storage block, the whisk of metal leaving wood a crisp note slicing through the humid air. She cut her dough roll into twenty-four perfect pieces, which she tucked into a greased metal pan, side by side, roll side up.

“Well, just think about it, that’s all I’m saying.”

“I will.”

I believed her because I wanted it to be true.

“I better head out,” I said.

“You’re biking?” She sounded surprised.

“Yup.”

“I can drive you.”

I smiled. “Really?”

“Sure.”





CHAPTER 29

The roller rink was housed in the basement of the Lilydale LaundrO-Mat. The laundromat stayed open all year, but the rink closed tight in the winter. Spring and fall it had limited hours, but come summer, it was open from 10:00 a.m. to 10:00 p.m. seven days a week. Mom had let me choose the radio station on the drive so I could hear what song was number one this week.

“Flashdance!”

Man, would I love to see that movie. Maybe Gabriel and I could check it out together.

Mom had also driven past the post office so I could drop off my letter for Jin. When we arrived at the rink, though, she hadn’t wanted to come inside because of how she looked. I’d scooped up my backpack and traipsed down the cement stairs alone.

The beat of “Angel Is the Centerfold” thumped against my feet as I descended into the basement. It took me a moment to adjust from the bright morning to the dark cellar, even with the help of strobe lights.

“Cassie, over here.”

I turned left, toward the front counter, and blinked twice before I made out Lynn’s mom. She was a plump woman, with a grand head of blonde hair wisped back with two tortoiseshell combs.

“Hi, Mrs. Strahan.”

“The other girls are on the rink.”

I counted four skaters, all but one that I recognized, whirring around under the disco ball, laughing and holding hands in one long chain.

“What size?” the man behind the counter asked. Mad magazine lay open on the counter under his elbows. I recognized the issue from a kid on the bus passing it around.

“Six, I think.”

He grabbed a pair of white leather roller skates from a cubby, the number six stenciled in black marker on their heel. They were scuffed, their shoelaces frayed at the ends. They clinked when he set them on the countertop. “Two dollars.”

My heart seized, and my cheeks grew hot. I spoke reflexively. “That’s okay, I don’t like to skate.”

“Really?” Mrs. Strahan asked. The way she said it reminded me of how Mrs. Oleson talked to Laura on Little House on the Prairie. “I thought all girls liked to skate.”

I’d been staring at the floor but risked a glance at her face. It was smooth, expressionless, but her eyes glittered. I opened my mouth to speak, but only a gurgle came out. I hadn’t brought any money. I hadn’t known I’d need it.

“You want these or not?”

“I’ll pay for her,” Mrs. Strahan said, unlatching her pocketbook. She slid a twenty toward him.

I couldn’t reach for the skates. My hands were glued to my sides.

“How are your parents?” Mrs. Strahan asked while he made change.

“Fine.”

She wanted to ask something else, but I spoke more quickly than her. “Dad is still making his sculptures and Mom is teaching full-time in Kimball. Sephie is doing well, too, thanks for asking.” I finally scooped up the roller skates and speed-walked toward the skating floor.

I liked to skate. I really did.



“I am too sure!” Andrea exclaimed.

I pulled my sleeping bag tighter. All five of us—Lynn, Heidi, Barb, Andrea, and me—were huddled between the couch and the TV in Lynn’s wood-paneled basement. It wasn’t really a basement, though, so I wasn’t afraid of it like Dad’s basement. Lynn’s had windows up high, plush carpeting, and paneled walls and held as many toys as a store. She and her little sister had their bedrooms down here, but her parents had Tanya sleeping upstairs tonight so that we had this whole floor to ourselves.