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  “Well, sort of, I guess. I mean, everybody thinks that the north, in general, is more tolerant of cultural differences.”

  “Aunt Mimi! Listen! It’s not about being tolerant! Cultural differences are how the whole world is! I think it’s interesting! Listen, you should see the black girls in my class—it’s all about hair and nails. And, shoes! They got some long nails and hair weaves that you wouldn’t believe! And, they are hilarious! They love me because they know I think they are very, very cool. I don’t want to be them; I just want to understand their world and how they think. Even the fat girls wear tight clothes and they aren’t all hung up on being skinny, you know what I mean?”

  “I think you’d find the same thing here, Gracie.”

  “Well, I don’t.”

  “You’ll never know until you take a look at it. I mean, we could sign you up for driver’s ed at Wando this summer, even today, and you could see who shows up, right?”

  “That’s nice, but here’s the problem. I don’t fit in here and I never will.”

  Aunt Mimi turned on the dishwasher and rinsed her hands for the hundredth time. Then she sighed and turned to me. “Baby? I have to tell you something. I think I have spent my entire forty-three years just trying to figure out where I fit in. And, you might be right, but only to a point. You’ve got the old ‘How’re You Gonna Keep ’Em Down on the Farm After They’ve Seen Paree’ Syndrome!”

  “What? In English, please?”

  “Our grandmother had this problem with Granddaddy. He went off to World War Two, but actually spent four years in Paris, going to the Moulin Rouge and the Lido and God knows, French whorehouses, for all she knew.”

  We both snickered at that, because who ever thinks about their great grandparents having a sex life?

  “Ew!” I said.

  “Precisely. Anyway, after the war so many men didn’t want to go back to rural America that they wrote a song about it. My grandmother used to sing it whenever Granddaddy pulled her chain about attending covered-dish dinners at church or bingo or who knows? So, that’s what you’ve got! Lindsey was right. You know a whole lot more about how the world ticks than a lot of kids around here. But, not all of them. At least one kid a year pulls a sixteen hundred on their SATs and we do have cable TV, you know. Four hundred stations?”

  “The problem is that it’s dull! I mean, in Montclair I can see Manhattan from the hill!”

  “But how often do you go there?”

  “Actually, more than you might think. We have this new train connection that takes you there in less than thirty minutes for under five bucks.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Yep, no kidding.”

  “Well, Gracie, here’s what I think.”

  She folded the damp kitchen towel, hung it over the oven door rail and sat next to me at the table, slapping my hand for picking the sweet crust from the sides of her pound cake. I smiled at her then. My aunt Mimi was so smart and she listened really well—for a grown-up, that is.

  “Shoot,” I said.

  “I think that if I were your mother, I’d be worried about you—even as sophisticated as you are—going off into Manhattan at your age by yourself.”

  “I never go alone,” I said, hoping that would make her see I wasn’t completely out of control or something.

  “No! I’m sure you don’t. But, here’s the thing. If you lived here, the pace of living—which is slower, I’ll admit—that alone would make you take your time about other things. Decisions that are more important. You can only be a kid for two more years and then you’re cooked! You have college, graduate school, career, marriage, kids and that’s it! Boom, boom, boom! One after another. High school is the last level playing field you’ll ever have!”

  “What do you mean? You don’t think teachers are mean as hell to students and pigeonhole kids in high school? And, you don’t think kids try to ruin your reputation because of any reason they think up?”

  “Not at all. That’s the same everywhere. What I mean is everybody has the same textbooks, the same tests, and at least on paper you have the same chance at excellence as everyone else. When you get out in the real world, other factors carry more weight. Your personality, your appearance . . .”

  “Aunt Mimi? No offense, but that’s a bullshit argument.” She raised her eyebrows but didn’t give me hell for saying bullshit to her. So, I continued. “Look, your personality and appearance make a huge difference to teachers. If they like you, they cut you some slack. If they don’t, it can make a B turn into a C.”

  “Okay, that’s probably true. I guess what I’m saying is that you have one cloister left, unless you become a nun, which is highly unlikely. And, high school is that cloister. Being with your mom is that cloister. In two short years, you’ll be gone and on your own. If you were really as smart as I think you are, instead of kicking the fence to break out, you’d see the value in having the time to slow down, be with your mom and with me and learn something more from us. You don’t have to be grown-up today. You can grow up later on. But you can never be a kid again. This is your last chance.”

  So, she had me on that. I knew she was right. I had been caught in some pretty bad stuff recently. Mimi knew all about everything that had been happening in my life and maybe that was part of why she and Mom wanted to get me out of Jersey.

  “Well, I don’t mind spending the summer here, but there ain’t no way I’m moving here forever! Stinking Lindsey has all the luck! Just because she was born two years before me . . .”

  “Look, Gracie, sometimes we do things for other people, right? Your mom is entitled to a life too, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “And what kind of a life did she truly have in New Jersey?”

  “Zero.”

  “So, you must have some opinion on this. Why do you really think your mom is suddenly so anxious to move back here? I mean, I’m thrilled, but I’m a little surprised.”

  I didn’t really feel like getting into it. The whole thing was so complicated that if I got started telling my side, we might be in the kitchen all day.

  “Uck. Aunt Mimi? I wouldn’t even know where to begin telling you and I’m not even sure there’s one answer. I think she’s just had it.”

  “Fed up?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought right after last Thanksgiving there was a marked change in her attitude.”

  “Well, it all started last Thanksgiving, when Daddy announced that he was marrying Patti, which, just for the record, he handled the whole thing like fuggetaboutit. Mom almost fainted when we told her the news.”

  “Less than graceful? Old Fred not quite the diplomat? Left that bit of news to you girls to deliver?”

  “Yeah, ex-aaaaactly. It was the worst Thanksgiving of our lives, for Lindsey and me, that is. Mom was down here with you, which is probably the best thing because if she had found out about them like we did, she would’ve killed Daddy. I felt like killing him anyway, for the sake of Momma’s pride.”

  “I don’t know a woman alive who wants to see their husband remarry some gal with a perfect body and a successful career, do you?”

  “Nope. But, it’s a good thing she’s got her own dough because she’ll never get a dime out of Dad.”

  “That’s the truth. Well, on Thanksgiving your momma started falling in love with the idea of coming home again. I think she knew how much it meant to me to have her around. I wish y’all had all come.”

  “Me too. Thanksgiving in New Jersey was reeeally, reeeally bad.”

  I couldn’t talk about it. I started remembering . . .

  Lindsey and I had decided that Mom was on a heavy-duty downer and that a trip to visit Mimi would do her some good. And she was depressed. Every date she had had in the last year was with a man who forgot to mention that he was married. I mean, if a man wants to take you out to dinner on Route 3 at four in the afternoon and bring you home by eight, your bullshit meter ought to be going berserk, right? Anyway,
we’d heard her crying through the walls for long enough and decided she needed face time with her sister.

  We had scraped up the money for her airline ticket from my babysitting and Lindsey’s tutoring, which left us completely broke. Then in a shocking moment of generosity, Daddy paid us for the ticket and insisted we spend the holiday with him . . . we should have been wary, because like they say down here in the south, old Fred was tighter than a gnat’s ass.

  “Gracie! Quit daydreaming and tell me what happened!”

  “Are you sure you want to hear this? You won’t be very proud of what Lindsey and I did to Patti.”

  “I’ll bet you a driving lesson this afternoon that I’ll love it. You can drive in South Carolina at sixteen, you know.”

  “Really? I think I knew that.”

  Drive a car? Okay, besides the beaches, driving at sixteen might be the only other decent thing about South Carolina. She had found the price of my secrecy. Against my better judgment, I decided to tell her. What the hell, right? Mom was probably already out of Charleston County anyway. Still, we Brelands didn’t tell on each other.

  “If you tell Mom this, I’ll never trust you again, okay? I mean, we gotta have an aunt-niece pact here.”

  “Deal,” she said, and we shook hands.

  “Okay, Dad picks us up early Thursday morning and drives us to his house. But first of all, you have to know that when he and Mom split, he moved into this dirtball condo in West Caldwell, and all of a sudden, he’s like, moved into this giant house.”

  Aunt Mimi’s eyes stretched and she turbo-inhaled. “Well, Fred always did like to fool around in the yard. And, men like to have garages so they can have tools and things.”

  “Right. So, he picks us up and the whole way there he’s talking like Chatty Chuckie or something, which should have made us suspicious. I mean, I knew he had a girlfriend so I was thinking she was probably there.”

  “How did you find out he was seeing someone?”

  “Lindsey told me.”

  “Continue. . . .”

  “Okay, we walk into Daddy’s new house in Essex Fells and we notice the new furniture in the living room. And there was a little dog, who was going nuts barking and barking. . . .”

  It was like watching a movie run in my head. I couldn’t make it stop.

  Oh, look! He’s adorable! Lindsey said.

  He’s Patti’s dog, Dad said. His name is Buster.

  “Like I said, I knew that Dad had a girlfriend and I couldn’t have cared less. I was way more interested in the dog. You know, Lindsey and I could never have a dog because we weren’t home all day. Until then, I had forgotten how cute they could be. This precious little Buster was jumping up on us and licking us like crazy and between the new furniture and the cute dog, I was very off guard.

  “So I said, What kind of a dog is he? He sort of looks like a cocker spaniel. And Dad said, He’s a Cavalier King Charles spaniel. Well, he’s a cute patoot! Come here, boy! Scratch your ears?

  “So I’m petting the dog and looking around. The only time we had seen the new house, it had been furnished with his cheap junk from Mom’s basement. So Lindsey and I were like looking at each other wondering if old Ebenezer had won the lottery and lost his mind in Bloomingdale’s Home Store.

  “There was a tan sectional sofa with a fabric that looked like velvet, a large square coffee table with a glass top and two huge armchairs with matching footstools. On the coffee table sat a glass vase, as big as a public monument, stuffed with branches of pine and some kind of extra-long white tulips. There were monkey pillows, monkey lamps, monkey curtains and let’s just say the ‘monkey thing’ was well beyond making its point.”

  “All those monkey things give me nightmares,” Aunt Mimi said.

  “Me too. So wait! Check this out! There was a fire burning in the fireplace—even though it wasn’t that cold—and scented candles burning all around the room. I’m thinking, where am I? And, what the hell is going on?

  “The dining room table had more flowers in the center and candles in little cups. I didn’t recognize anything and then it dawned on me. She had moved in. My daddy was living with this woman. I was speechless. Lindsey and I just stared at each other in major horror.

  “So then, Dad took our coats and hung them in the hall closet and put our backpacks on the bottom step to take upstairs later. That may appear to have been a normal courtesy, but let me assure you, it was anything but.

  “For a second, I thought maybe he thought that Lindsey hadn’t told me about his girlfriend. Then I thought, no, surely he knew better. Fred was acting all peculiar because he had not revealed the entire truth. And, let’s be honest, he knew us well enough to worry about how we would react to his new living situation. So, as usual, because of his emotional laziness, he trapped us and hoped for the best. Not only was he a coward, and this is what really hurt the most, he hadn’t cared enough about us to prepare us. I started feeling mighty angry. Yes, sir. Angry as only a teenage girl can. What’s that saying? Hell has no fury like the ice on the tongue of a vixen bitch. Well, something like that.”

  “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, I think,” Aunt Mimi said.

  “Right. Well, we were standing around in the living room feeling awkward and suddenly Patti Elliott appeared. Buster abandoned us and ran to her.”

  “What was she wearing?”

  Wasn’t it like Aunt Mimi to ask that? I remembered every detail.

  “Augh! She was wearing this stupid burgundy apron with pilgrims on it. But, never mind her ridiculous apron, there was diva all around her. Okay, Jersey diva, but diva all the same. This was a very put-together woman. She was holding a wooden spoon and a burgundy oven mitt that matched. All I could think was holy hell, Momma’s gonna die when she hears about this. It’s funny how you remember things like that spoon.

  “She was way more glamour queen than I had expected. Her hair had been blown out by a salon; that much was definite. She had on tan pants, brown pumps and a tan turtleneck sweater that showed off what a plastic surgeon had probably, no, definitely enlarged. I remember thinking that she should’ve had her flat butt fixed when she bought her big boobs.

  “The sparkles coming from her diamond stud earrings were like completely blinding. Her sweater was probably cashmere, which really made me mad. I’m thinking, this bitch! Do you know my mom has never owned one cashmere sweater? But, actually, she’s not really a bitch and I was just wishing Mom had a thousand cashmere sweaters or something.

  “Daddy went over to her and kissed her cheek and then he turned to us.

  “Girls? I want you to meet Patti Elliott. Patti? This is Lindsey and this is Gracie, my daughters.

  “Well, look at you all! she said with a twang that set my inner Bruce Lee immediately on notice. Y’all are just as pretty as y’all’s daddy said! And, Happy Thanksgiving.

  “I’m thinking, holy hell, she’s a southern belle to boot. So then Lindsey pipes up . . .

  “Thanks, it’s nice to meet you.

  “I’ll admit that Lindsey was the more mature daughter, being polite but not too warm. But I was a mess. I got a huge lump in my throat, my insides got wobbly. I said nothing to Patti but just stared at her, wondering what in the world a woman like her would see in our dad, a guy with a loser name like Fred.

  “I mean, look, Dad’s balding, has gray teeth, a gut hanging over his belt and he’s a total wank. Maybe he was okay-looking when Mom married him, but man, he looked old to me now. Definite geezer.

  “Anyway, Daddy was talking and I hadn’t heard a word. I asked him what he said.

  “I said, say something, Gracie, Dad said.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Patti Elliott, I said.

  “My adrenaline kicked in and I marched myself right out the front door, with this urge to spend the day in the yard kicking squirrels. I couldn’t stay in the house with them. I could see that Patti Elliott was probably a nice woman and all, but I couldn’t pretend that everything was fine. It wasn’t
. I just wanted to get away from all of them. I considered walking back to our house on Park Street. It couldn’t have been more than five miles and I could make that. But I didn’t do it.

  “The front of the yard has a steep slope and three steps down to the sidewalk. I just sat on the steps, leaning against the wrought-iron rail. I figured I’d just stay on the steps until Mom got home on Sunday.

  “I sat there wishing I had my own cell phone so I could have called someone to come rescue me. Right? I could see me with my own cell phone. How about, not ever? It was getting colder and damper by the second, my coat was inside and I was getting more and more bummed out. If I went back in for my coat, Dad would start yelling at me. If I stayed outside, I’d get tonsillitis for sure. I heard the door open and close and turned to see Lindsey and Buster coming toward me.

  “Thanks a lot, you sniveling Benedict Arnold, she said. Would you mind telling me what got into you?

  “I can’t take it, Lind, I said and could feel my eyes filling up with tears. He sandbagged us! And, she’s just too much for me. I mean, look at her! She’s filthy rich! She must be wearing a thousand dollars’ worth of clothes!

  “She sat down next to me, leaning on the other rail. What’s the matter with you? Have you been thinking that maybe Dad should come home? I said, no. I mean, there was some small part of me that wanted to have my mother and father under the same roof, even though it wouldn’t be good for them or us. Naturally, Lindsey and I started talking about it and, she said, She’s not competing with Mom and she owns a clothing store, dumb ass. I picked my cuticles for a minute and didn’t say anything. I had forgotten about her store. So then Lindsey starts defending her.

  “Look, I don’t like this either but I gotta tell you something. The minute you walked out of the house Dad got crazy and you know what she said?

  “I said, like I give a crap. . . .

  “She said that Patti said, Calm down, Fred. If I were Grace, I’d walk out of this house too! Apparently, Patti was a little ticked off with Dad about something. Soooo, I said I’d come to get you. Soooo, let’s go back in. We’re in this together, right?