Текст книги "We'll Always Have Summer"

Автор книги: Jenny Han

Соавторы: Jenny Han
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Chapter Twenty-two

My mother and I didn’t speak to each other for a week.

I avoided her, and she ignored me. I worked at Behrs, mostly to get out of the house. I ate lunch and dinner there. After my shifts, I went over to Taylor’s, and when I got home, I talked to Jeremiah on the phone. He begged me to at least try to talk to my mother. I knew he was worried that she hated him now, and I assured him that he wasn’t the one she was mad at. That was all me.

One night after a late shift at the restaurant, I was on my way to my room when I stopped short. I heard the muffled sound of my mother crying behind her closed door. I was frozen to the spot, my heart thudding in my chest. Standing outside her door, listening to her weep, I was ready to give it all up. In that moment I would have done anything, said anything, to make her stop crying.

In that moment she had me. My hand was on the doorknob, and the words were right there, on the tip of my tongue—Okay, I won’t do it.

But then it got quiet. She’d stopped crying on her own. I waited a little longer, and when I didn’t hear anything more, I let go of the doorknob and went to my room. In the dark I took off my work clothes and got into bed, and I cried too.

I woke up to the smell of my father’s Turkish coffee. For just those few seconds right in between sleep and wake-fulness, I was ten again, and my dad still lived with us and the biggest thing I had to worry about was my math homework. I started to fall asleep again, and then I woke up with a start.

There could only be one reason my dad was here. My mother had told him. I’d wanted to be the one to tell him, to explain. She’d beaten me to it. I was mad, but at the same time I felt glad. Her telling my father meant that she was finally taking this seriously.

After I showered, I headed downstairs. They were sitting in the living room drinking coffee. My dad had on his weekend clothes—jeans and a plaid short-sleeved shirt. And a belt, always a belt.

“Morning,” I said.

“Have a seat,” my mother said, setting her mug down on a coaster.

I sat. My hair was still wet, and I was trying to work my comb through the tangles.

Clearing his throat, my father said, “So, your mother told me what’s going on.”

“Dad, I wanted to tell you myself, I really did. Mom beat me to the punch.” I threw her a pointed look, and she didn’t appear the least bit bothered by it.

“I’m not in favor of this either, Belly. I think you’re too young.” He cleared his throat again. “We’ve discussed it, and if you want to live with Jeremiah in an apartment this fall, we’ll allow it. You’ll have to chip in if it costs more than the dorms, but we’ll pay what we’ve been paying.”

I wasn’t expecting that. A compromise. I was sure it had been my dad’s idea, but I couldn’t take the deal.

“Dad, I don’t just want to live in an apartment with Jeremiah. That’s not why we’re getting married.”

“Then why are you getting married?” my mother asked me.

“We love each other. We’ve thought it through, we really have.”

My mother gestured at my left hand. “Who paid for that ring? I know Jeremiah doesn’t have a job.”

I put my hand in my lap. “He used his credit card,” I said.

“His credit card that Adam pays for. If Jeremiah can’t afford a ring, he has no business buying one.”

“It didn’t cost much.” I had no idea how much the ring had cost, but the diamond was so little, I figured it couldn’t have been that expensive.

Sighing, my mother glanced over at my father and then back at me. “You might not believe me when I say this, but when your father and I got married, we were very much in love. Very, very much in love. We went into marriage with the best of intentions. But all of that just wasn’t enough to sustain us.”

Their love for each other, Steven and me, our family—none of it was enough to make their marriage work.

I knew all of that already.

“Do you regret it?” I asked her.

“Belly, it isn’t as simple as that.”

I interrupted her. “Do you regret our family? Do you regret me and Steven?”

Sighing deeply, she said, “No.”

“Dad, do you?”

“Belly, no. Of course not. That’s not what you’re mother’s trying to say.”

“Jeremiah and I aren’t you and Mom. We’ve known each other our whole lives.” I tried to appeal to my father.

“Dad, your cousin Martha got married young, and she and Bert have been married for, like, thirty years! It can work, I know it can. Jeremiah and I will make it work just like they did. We’re going to be happy. We want you guys to be happy for us.”

My father rubbed his beard in a way I knew well—he was going to defer to my mother the way he always did.

Any second, he would look at her with a question in his eyes. It was all up to her now. Actually, it had always been up to her.

We both looked at her. My mother was the judge.

That was the way it worked in our family. She closed her eyes briefly and then said, “I can’t support you in this decision, Isabel. If you go forward with this wedding, I won’t support it. I won’t be there.”

It knocked the wind out of me. Even though I was expecting it, her continued disapproval … still. Still, I thought she’d come around, at least a little.

“Mom,” I said, my voice breaking, “come on.”

Looking pained, my father said, “Belly, let’s all just think on this some more, okay? This is very sudden for us.”

I ignored him and looked only at my mother.

Pleadingly, I said, “Mom? I know you don’t mean that.”

She shook her head. “I do mean it.”

“Mom, you can’t not be at my wedding. That’s crazy.”

I tried to sound calm, like I wasn’t on the verge of out-and-out hysteria.

“No, what’s crazy is the idea of a teenager getting married.” She pressed her lips together. “I don’t know what to say to get through to you. How do I get through to you, Isabel?”

“You can’t,” I said.

My mother leaned forward, her eyes fixed on me.

“Don’t do this.”

“It’s already decided. I’m marrying Jeremiah.” I stood up jerkily. “If you can’t be happy for me, then maybe—

maybe it’s best you don’t come.”

I was already at the staircase when my dad called out,

“Belly, wait.”

I stopped, and then I heard my mother say, “Let her go.”

When I was in my room, I called Jeremiah. The first thing he said was, “Do you want me to talk to her?”

“That won’t help. I’m telling you, she’s made up her mind. I know her. She won’t budge. At least not right now.”

He was silent. “Then what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know.” I started to cry.

“Are you saying you want to postpone the wedding?”

“No!”

“Then what should we do?”

Wiping my face, I said, “I guess just move ahead with the wedding. Start planning.”

As soon as we got off the phone, I started seeing things more clearly. I needed to separate emotion from reason. Refusing to go to the wedding was my mother’s trump card. It was the only leg she had to stand on. And she was bluffing. She had to be bluffing. No matter how upset or disappointed she was in me, I couldn’t believe 116 · jenny han

that she would miss her only daughter’s wedding. I just couldn’t.

All there was to do now was to steamroll ahead and get this wedding in motion. With or without my mother by my side, this was happening.

Chapter Twenty-three

I was folding my laundry when Steven knocked on my door later that night. As usual he only gave me a couple of seconds before opening it; he never waited for me to say “come in.” He came into the room and shut the door behind him. Steven stood in my room awkwardly, leaning against the wall, his arms folded against his chest.

“What?” I said. Although I already knew.

“Sooo … are you and Jere serious about this?”

I stacked some T-shirts into a pile. “Yes.”

Steven crossed the room and sat at my desk, absorbing my answer for a minute. Then he faced me, straddling the chair, and said, “You realize that’s insane, right? We’re not living in the foothills of West Virginia. There’s no reason you have to get married so young.”

“What do you know about West Virginia?” I scoffed.

“You’ve never even been there.”

“That’s besides the point.”

“What is your point?”

“My point is, you guys are too young.”

“Did Mom send you up here to talk to me?”

“No,” he said, and I knew he was lying. “I’m just worried about you.”

I stared him down.

“Okay, yeah, she did,” he admitted. “But I would have come up anyway.”

“You’re not going to change my mind.”

“Listen, nobody knows you two better than me.” He stopped, weighing his words. “I love Jere—he’s like a brother to me. But you’re my little sister. You come first.

This whole marriage idea—I’m sorry, but I think it’s stupid. If you guys love each other that much, you can wait a couple of years to be together. And if you can’t, you for sure shouldn’t be getting married.”

I felt both touched and annoyed. Steven never said things like “You come first.” But then he called me stupid, which was more like him.

“I don’t expect you to understand,” I said. I folded then refolded another t-shirt. “Jeremiah wants you and Conrad to be his best men.”

Steven’s face broke into a smile. “He does?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Steven looked really happy, but then he caught me looking at him, and he wiped his smile away. “I don’t think Mom will let me be in the wedding.”

“Steven, you’re twenty-one years old. You can decide that for yourself.”

He frowned. I could tell I’d injured his pride. He said,

“Well, I still don’t think it’s your smartest move.”

“Noted,” I said. “I’m still doing it.”

“Oh, man, Mom’s gonna kill me. I was supposed to talk you out of getting married, not get roped into the wedding,” Steven said, getting up.

I hid my smile. That is, until Steven added, “Con and I had better start planning the bachelor party.”

Quickly, I said, “Jere doesn’t want any of that.”

Steven puffed up his chest. “You don’t get a say in it, Belly. You’re a girl. This is man stuff.”

“Man stuff?”

Grinning, he shut my door.

Chapter Twenty-four

Despite what I’d said to Steven, I still found myself waiting for my mother. Waiting for her to come around, waiting for her to give in. I didn’t want to start planning the wedding until she said yes. But when days passed and she refused to discuss it, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.

Thank God for Taylor.

She brought over a big white binder with clippings from wedding magazines and checklists and all kinds of stuff. “I was saving this for my wedding, but we can use it for yours, too,” she said.

All I had was one of my mother’s yellow legal pads. I had written wedding at the top and made a list of things I needed to do. The list looked pretty skimpy, next to Taylor’s binder.

We were sitting on my bed, papers and bride magazines all around us. Taylor was all business.

She said, “First things first. We have to find you a dress.

August is really, really soon.”

“It doesn’t feel that soon,” I said.

“Well, it is. Two months to plan a wedding is nothing.

In weddingspeak that’s, like, tomorrow.”

“Well, I guess since the wedding is going to be simple, the dress should be too,” I said.

Taylor frowned. “How simple?”

“Really simple. As simple as it gets. Nothing poofy or frou frou.”

She nodded to herself. “I can picture it. It’s very Cindy Crawford wedding-on– the-beach, very Carolyn Bessette.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” I said. I had no idea what either of their wedding dresses looked like. I didn’t even know who Carolyn Bessette was. After I had the dress, it would feel more real, I would be able to visualize it happening.

Right now it still felt too abstract.

“What about shoes?”

I gave her a look. “Like I’m gonna wear heels on the beach. I can barely walk in heels on level ground.”

Taylor ignored me. “What about my bridesmaid dress?”

I pushed some magazines onto the carpet so I could lie down. I stretched my legs as high as I could and put my feet up on the wall. “I was thinking mustard yellow. Maybe in a satiny kind of material.” Taylor hated mustard yellow.

“Mustard yellow satin,” Taylor repeated, nodding and trying hard to keep the disgust off her face. I could tell she was torn between her vanity and her credo, which was, the Bride is always right. “That could maybe work with Anika’s skin tone. I’m more of a spring, but if I started tanning now, it could work.”

I laughed. “I’m kidding. You can wear whatever you want.”

“Dork!” she said, looking relieved. She slapped my thigh. “You’re so immature! I can’t believe you’re getting married!”

“Me neither.”

“But I guess it makes sense, in a Twilight Zone kind of way. You’ve known each other for, like, a grillion years.

It’s meant to be.”

“How long is a grillion years?”

“It’s forever.” In the air she spelled out my initials.

“B.C. + J.F. forever.”

“Forever,” I echoed happily. Forever I could do. Me and Jere.

Chapter Twenty-five

On my way out to meet Taylor at the mall the next day, I stopped by my mother’s office. “I’m going to look for a dress,” I said, standing in her doorway.

She stopped typing and looked over at me. “Good luck,” she said.

“Thanks.” I supposed there were worse things she could have said than “good luck,” but the thought didn’t make me feel any better.

The formal-wear store at the mall was packed with girls looking for prom dresses with their mothers. I didn’t expect to feel the pang in my chest when I saw them.

Girls were supposed to go wedding dress shopping with their mothers. They were supposed to step out of the dressing room in just the right dress, and the mother would tear up and say, “That’s the one.” I was pretty sure that was the way it was supposed to be.

“Isn’t it a little late in the year for prom?” I asked Taylor. “Wasn’t ours in, like, May?”

“My sister told me they had to push back prom this year because of some scandal with the assistant principal,”

she explained. “All the prom money went missing or something. So now it’s a grom. Graduation-prom.”

I laughed. “Grom.”

“Also, the private schools always have their prom later, remember? Collegiate, St. Joe’s.”

“I only went to one prom,” I reminded her. One had been more than enough for me.

I wandered around the store and found one dress I liked—it was strapless, blinding white. I’d never known there were degrees of white before; I’d just thought white was white. When I found Taylor, she had a whole stack of dresses on her arm. We had to wait in line for a dressing room.

The girl in front of me told her mother, “I will freak out if someone wears the same dress as me.”

Taylor and I rolled our eyes at each other. I will freak out, Taylor mouthed.

It seemed like we waited in that line forever.

“Try this one on first,” Taylor ordered when it was my turn.

Dutifully, I obeyed her.

“Come out,” Taylor yelled from her chair by the three-way mirror. She was camped out with the other mothers.

“I don’t think I like it,” I called out. “It’s too sparkly. I look like Glinda the good witch or something.”

“Just come out and let me see you!”

I came out, and there were already a couple of other girls at the mirror, checking themselves out from the back. I stood behind them.

Then the girl from earlier stepped out in the same dress I had on but in a champagne color. She saw me, and right away she asked, “Which prom are you going to?”

Taylor and I looked at each other in the mirror. Taylor was covering her mouth, giggling. I said, “I’m not going to prom.”

Taylor said, “She’s getting married!”

The girl’s mouth hung open. “How old are you? You look so young.”

“I’m not that young,” I said. “I’m nineteen.” I wouldn’t be nineteen until August, but nineteen sounded a lot older than eighteen.

“Oh,” she said. “I thought we were, like, the same age.”

I looked at us in the mirror as we stood there in the same dress. I thought we looked the same age too. I saw her mother looking at me and whispering to the lady next to her, and I could feel myself blush.

Taylor saw too and said, loudly, “You can hardly even tell she’s three months pregnant.”

The woman gasped. She shook her head at me, and I gave her a little shrug. Then Taylor grabbed my hand, and we ran back to my dressing room, laughing.

“You’re a good friend,” I said as she unzipped me.

We looked at each other in the mirror, me in my white dress and her in her cutoffs and flip-flops. I felt like I was going to cry. But then Taylor saved it—she made me laugh instead. She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out sideways. It felt good to laugh again.

Three more stores later, we sat in the food court, still no dress. Taylor ate french fries, and I ate frozen yogurt with rainbow sprinkles. My feet hurt, and I was already wanting to go home. The day wasn’t turning out to be as fun as I’d hoped it would be.

Taylor leaned across the table and dipped an already-ketchupped french fry into my frozen yogurt. I snatched the cup away from her.

“Taylor! That’s gross.”

She shrugged. “This coming from the girl who puts powdered sugar on Cap’n Crunch?” Handing me a fry, she said, “Just try it.”

I dipped it into the cup, careful not to get any sprinkles on it, because that would just be too gross. I popped the fry into my mouth. Not bad. Swallowing, I said, “What if we can’t find a dress?”

“We’ll find a dress,” she assured me, handing me another fry. “Don’t get all Debbie Downer on me yet.”

She was right. We found it at the next store. It was the last one I tried on. Everything else had been only so-so or too expensive. This dress was long and white and silky and something you could wear on the beach. It was not that expensive, which was important. But most important of all, when I looked in the mirror, I could picture myself getting married in it.

Nervously, I stepped out, smoothing the dress down on my sides. I looked up at her. “What do you think?”

Her eyes were shining. “It’s perfect. Just perfect.”

“You think?”

“Come look at yourself in this mirror and you tell me, beotch.”

Giggling, I stepped up on the platform and stared at myself in the three-way mirror. This was it. This was the one.

Chapter Twenty-six

That night I tried on my dress again and called Jeremiah.

“I found my dress,” I told him. “I’m wearing it right now.”

“What’s it look like?”

“It’s a surprise. But I promise, it’s really pretty. Taylor and I found it at the fifth store we went to. It didn’t even cost that much.” I ran my hand along the silky fabric.

“It fits me perfectly, so I won’t have to get alterations or anything.”

“So why do you sound so sad, then?”

I sat down on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest. “I don’t know. Maybe ’cause my mom wasn’t there to help me pick it out… . I thought buying a wedding dress was supposed to be this special thing you do with your mom, and she wasn’t there. It was nice with Taylor, but I wish my mom had been there too.”

Jeremiah was quiet. Then he said, “Did you ask her to go with you?”

“No, not really. But she knew I wanted her there. I just hate that she’s not a part of this.” I’d left my bedroom door open, hoping my mom might walk by, might see me in the dress and stop. She hadn’t so far.

“She’ll come around.”

“I hope so. I don’t know if I can picture getting married without my mom there, you know?”

I heard Jere let out a little sigh. “Yeah, me either,” he said, and I knew he was thinking of Susannah.

The next morning, my mother and I were eating breakfast, my mother with her yogurt with muesli and me with my frozen waffles, when the doorbell rang.

My mother looked up from her newspaper. “Are you expecting someone?” she asked me.

I shook my head and got up to see who it was. I opened the front door, figuring it would be Taylor with more bridal magazines. Instead, it was Jeremiah. He had a bouquet of lilies, and he had on a nice shirt, white button-down with faint blue checks.

I clapped my hands over my mouth in delight. “What are you doing here?” I shrieked from behind my hands.

He hugged me to him. I could smell McDonald’s coffee on his breath. He must have woken up really early to get here. Jeremiah loved McDonald’s breakfasts but he could 130 · jenny han

never wake up early enough to get one. He said, “Don’t get too excited. These aren’t for you. Is Laurel here?”

I felt swoony and dazed. “She’s eating breakfast,” I said.

“Come on in.”

I opened the door for him, and he followed me inside to the kitchen. Brightly, I said, “Mom, look who’s here!”

My mother looked astonished, her spoon halfway to her mouth. “Jeremiah!”

Jeremiah walked over to her, flowers in hand. “I just had to come and greet my future mother-in-law properly,” he said, grinning his impish grin. He kissed her on the cheek and set the flowers by her bowl of yogurt.

I was watching closely. If anybody could charm my mother, it was Jeremiah. Already I could feel the tension in our house being lifted.

She smiled a smile that looked brittle, but it was a smile nonetheless. She stood up. “I’m glad you came,” she said. “I’ve been wanting to talk to the both of you.”

Jeremiah rubbed his hands together. “All righty. Let’s do this. Belly, get over here. Group hug first.”

My mother tried not to laugh as Jeremiah gave her a bear hug. He motioned for me to join in, and I came up behind my mother and hugged her around the waist. She couldn’t help it: a laugh escaped. “All right, all right. Let’s go into the living room. Jere, have you eaten?”

I answered for him. “Egg McMuffin, right, Jere?”

He winked at me. “You know me so well.”

My mother had already stepped into the living room, her back to us.

“I can smell McDonald’s on your breath,” I told him in a low voice.

He clapped his hand over his mouth, looking self-conscious, which was rare for him. “Does it smell bad?”

he asked me.

I felt so much tenderness toward him in that moment.

“No,” I told him.

The three of us sat in the living room, Jeremiah and I on the couch, my mother in an armchair facing us.

Everything was going so well. He had made my mother laugh. I hadn’t seen her laugh or smile since we’d told her. I started to feel hopeful, like this might actually work.

The first thing she said was, “Jeremiah, you know I love you. I want nothing but the best for you. That’s why I can’t support what you two are doing.”

Jeremiah leaned forward. “Laur—”

My mother held up her hand. “You’re just too young.

Both of you. You’re both still gestating and becoming the people you will one day be. You’re still children. You aren’t ready for a commitment like this. I’m talking about a lifetime here, Jeremiah.”

Eagerly, he said, “Laurel, I want to be with Belly for a lifetime. I can commit to that, easy.”

My mother shook her head. “And that’s how I know you’re not ready, Jeremiah. You take things too lightly. This isn’t the kind of thing you undertake on a whim. This is serious.” The condescension in her voice really pissed me off. I was eighteen years old, not eight, and Jeremiah was nineteen. We were old enough to know that marriage was serious. We’d seen the way our parents had screwed up their own marriages. We weren’t going to make the same mistakes. But I didn’t say anything. I knew that if I got mad or tried to argue, it would only prove her point.

So I just sat there. “I want you two to wait. I want Belly to finish school. When she graduates, if you two still feel the same way, do it then. But only after she graduates. If Beck was here, she’d agree with me.”

“I think she’d be really happy for us,” Jeremiah said.

Before my mother could contradict him, he added,

“Belly will still finish college on time, I can promise you that. I’ll take good care of her. Just give us your blessing.” He reached out and touched her hand and gave it a playful shake. “Come on, Laur. You know you’ve always wanted me for a son-in-law.”

My mother looked pained. “Not like this, hon. I’m sorry.”

There was a long, awkward pause. As the three of sat there, I could feel myself start to tear up. Jeremiah put his arm around me and clasped my shoulder, then he let go.

“Does this mean you aren’t coming to the wedding?”

I asked her.

Shaking her head, she said, “Isabel, what wedding? You don’t have the money to pay for a wedding.”

“That’s for us to worry about, not you,” I said. “I just want to know, are you coming?”

“I already gave you my answer. No, I won’t be there.”

“How can you say that?” I let out a breath, trying to keep calm. “You’re just mad that you don’t get a say in this. You don’t get a say in what happens, and it’s killing you.”

“Yes, it is killing me!” she snapped. “Watching you make such a stupid decision is killing me.”

My mother fixed her eyes on me, and I turned my head away from her, my knees shaking. I couldn’t listen to her anymore. She was poisoning our good news with all her doubts and negativity. She was twisting everything.

I stood up. “Then I’ll leave. You won’t have to watch anymore.”

Jeremiah looked startled. “Come on, Bells, sit down.”

“I can’t stay here,” I said.

My mother didn’t say a word. She just sat there, her back ramrod straight.

I walked out of the living room and up the stairs.

In my room I packed quickly, throwing a stack of T-shirts and underwear into a suitcase. I was throwing my toiletries bag on top of the heap when Jeremiah came into my room. He closed the door behind him.

He sat down on my bed. “What just happened?” he asked, still looking dazed.

I didn’t answer him, I kept packing.

“What are you doing?” he asked me.

“What does it look like?”

“Okay, but do you have a plan?”

I zipped up my suitcase. “Yes, I have a plan. I’m staying at the Cousins house until the wedding. I can’t deal with her.”

Jeremiah sucked in his breath. “Are you serious?”

“You heard her. She isn’t changing her mind. This is the way she wants it.”

He hesitated. “I don’t know… . What about your job?”

“You’re the one who told me I should quit. It’s better this way. I can plan the wedding better in Cousins than I can here.” I was sweating as I heaved up my suitcase.

“If she can’t get on board this train, then that’s too bad.

Because this is happening.”

Jeremiah tried to take the suitcase from me, but I told him not to bother. I lugged it down the stairs and to the car without a word to or from my mother. She didn’t ask where we were going, and she didn’t ask when I was coming back.

On the way out of town, we stopped at Behr’s. Jere waited for me in his car while I went inside. If I hadn’t just had a fight with my mother, I never would have had we’ll always have summer · 135

the nerve to quit like that. Even though people came and went all the time at Behrs, especially students … still. I went straight back to the kitchen and found my manager, Stacey, and told her I was sorry, but as it turned out I was getting married in two months and I couldn’t keep working there. Stacey eyed my stomach and then my ring finger and said, “Congratulations, Isabel. Just so you know, there’s always a place for you here at Behrs.”

Alone in my car again, I cried loud, ragged sobs. I cried until my throat hurt. I was mad at my mom, but bigger than that was this overwhelming, heavy sadness. I was grown up enough to do things on my own, without her. I could get married, I could quit my job. I was a big girl now. I didn’t have to ask for her permission. My mother was no longer all powerful. Part of me wished she still could be.