Bittersweet Summer (8 page)

“In a minute.” Dad hunkered down in the aisle and pulled me close.

Mom handed her guitar to the bass player and slid the mike into its holder. “Come see me,” she said, her voice softer, but still being picked up by the mikes. She held out her arms.

Tyler stood still, peeking through his fingers at Mom. “It’s hard to see,” his little voice said. Mom went to him and pulled him into her arms. “I’ve got you now.” She turned to the audience and smiled. The crowd burst into applause.

“We have to keep the songs coming along,” Mom said to Tyler. “Will you sing one with me?” He stuck his thumb into his mouth and shook his head.

“Down in the valley,” she sang into the mike, and then she waved to the audience to join in.

“Valley so low,” the crowd sang.

In Mom’s arms, Tyler raised his head and pulled his thumb out of his mouth. Of course, he could sing the tucking-into-bed song. “Hang your head over.” Tyler’s voice came through the mike loud and clear. “Hear the wind blow.”

Dad rubbed his cheeks against his sleeve. Then he blew his nose and grinned a crooked grin at me. “That kid,” he said, shaking his head.

By the time “Down in the Valley” ended, the people around us were mopping their eyes and blowing their noses. They clapped, and Mom set Tyler down on his feet. She took his hand, and they both bowed. “That’s my boy,” Mom said. The crowd roared.

She shaded her eyes and looked out. “Is your dad out there? And Katie?”

Dad and I ran down the aisle to the stage. “Tyler,” Dad said. “Come sit with us now.”

But Tyler shook his head. “I have to ask Mommy the biggest question,” he said, and once again, the mikes picked up his voice.

“Not now,” Dad said. “Ask her later.”

“Mommy,” Tyler said, and his voice rang through the speakers. “You’ve been gone too long. Katie and I want you to come back to live with us. Will you?”

Katie and I want you to come back to live with us!
The words echoed around the big tent. The crowd grew silent. Everyone waited for Mom’s answer.

She held her hand over her eyes, shading them from the lights. Finally she saw Dad and me and gave us a little wave. She gathered Tyler into her arms and whispered something in his ear.

He nodded. “I love you, too,” he said.

She set him on his feet and gave him a gentle push in our direction. Once Dad had lifted him off the stage, she reached for her guitar and moved to the main mike. “This is for every person . . .” she said. Then, she coughed and cleared her throat. “For every person, who for some reason, cannot go back.”

The band swung into action and suddenly they were playing a familiar song. Mom stepped to the mike, and her voice came out sweet and quiet. “Where is the place where all my dreams start?” she sang. “Where is the home that lives in my heart?”

Dad picked Tyler up, and a moment later, we were sitting again in our seats.

T
YLER CRAWLED INTO DAD’S
lap. “I don’t think she’s coming,” he said.

“It was okay to ask,” Dad said in a husky voice.

I leaned against Dad’s arm. We were three people stuck together in this huge crowd of people who loved Mom. And Mom? Who did she love?

I knew the answer to that. She loved Tyler and me and Dad. But she loved being a star more.

Dad’s arm felt good against mine. I grabbed it and pulled it around me.

Bittersweet. I knew exactly what that meant.

M
OM DID THE REST
of her show—fast songs and slow songs, and songs that everyone sang along with her. At the end, people cheered and yelled until she did two more songs. Finally, she waved good-bye and left the stage. The lights came on. Everyone stood up, and I did, too, blinking and exhausted.

Dad looked at his watch as we shuffled along with all the people. “Wow. It’s late. She wants us to have supper with her.” He picked up Tyler and took my hand. We moved through the lines of people toward a side door of the tent.

“Tyler’s not going to eat anything,” I said. His head bounced on Dad’s shoulder; his eyes drooped.

A man met us at the side door and led us through the fresh, cool air toward a huge black-and-gold RV. “Is this Mom’s?” I shivered. She really was a star.

Dad knocked on the door. “This is how she lives now that she’s performing so much. It’s more comfortable than finding a motel every night.”

This is Mom’s real home, I thought. Her house has wheels, but it’s her home just the same.

Standing at the door was the bass player, looking like somebody’s grandpa. His shoulders drooped, and he looked tired. He waved us inside, where there was a whole living room and a kitchen. “She’s taking off the make-up,” he said in a soft, rough voice.

“I’ll be right out,” Mom yelled from somewhere down the hall.

“So here’s the newest member of the band,” the bass player said to Tyler. Tyler raised his head and blinked.

Mom came in, wearing a soft green robe and slippers. “Feels so good to get that stuff off my face,” she said. “And those boots off my feet.”

“See ya later, Roxie,” the bass player said. He went out the door.

“Oh, he’s gone,” Mom said, “I was going to introduce all of you to him. Guess he figured out who you were.” She reached out to me, and I stepped into her hug. “Did you like the show, honey?”

“You were great, Mom,” I said, breathing in clouds of perfume, feeling her arms warm around me.

“Hey there, Tyler,” she said with a grin as Dad handed him over to her. “The big star of my show.”

“Hi, Mommy,” Tyler said. He wrapped his arms around her neck and gave her a wet kiss.

“I’m sorry that happened, Roxie,” Dad said. “I hope it didn’t mess things up.”

“It didn’t.” She stopped then. “Well, it changed the timing. But it worked out fine. Right?”

There was silence before Dad nodded.

“Right,” he said.

Mom sat down at a little table that had couches around it. “Pizza is coming.” She patted the couch and smiled as we crowded in. “So tell me,” she said, “what did you really think of the show?”

“Your voice is better than ever,” Dad said. “You look great, Roxie.”

She smoothed her hair. “I don’t look too tired? This extra show has been a big problem. We have to be in Spokane tomorrow night. What is that, a six-hour drive?”

I studied Mom’s face. She didn’t look tired at all. She looked excited.

She turned to me. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“It’s summer vacation,” I said, surprised that she didn’t know. “No school.”

“We’ll sleep in,” Dad said.

Tyler wiggled on the couch and leaned against Mom. “Not me,” he said.

“Oh, that’s right.” Dad sighed. “The early riser.”

Mom made a face. “After a concert, I sleep till noon.” She got up and opened the refrigerator. “Want something to drink?” She set bottled water on the table, along with a couple of Cokes.

“Uh,” Dad said, “no caffeine for the kids, Roxie.”

“Right,” she said. “I forgot.” She put the Cokes back and got out some juice.

Just then, someone knocked on the door. “Oh dear,” Mom said. “The pizza. I can’t answer looking like this.” She backed away from the door, down the hall, out of sight.

“I’ll get it,” Dad said. He opened the door to the smell of pizza.

“He’s going to need money,” Mom called from the hallway.

Dad reached for his wallet. “I’ll treat.” He gave the pizza man some bills and closed the door.

“Oh, Bill,” Mom said, coming back to the table. “You didn’t have to treat. But thank you.” She opened the lid of the box and peeked inside. “Yummy!”

I looked inside the box, too.

Mom had forgotten! I hate mushrooms!

H
ORRIBLE MUSHROOMS COVERED EVERY
bit of the pizza. “Mom!” I said as tears rushed into my eyes.

Dad shook his head at me and reached for a piece. I pressed my lips together and watched him pick off mushrooms. He slid my piece over to me.

“Oh, Katie,” Mom said. “Guess I forgot.”

“It’s okay.” I blinked the tears away and tried to smile.

“You’ve grown since Christmas, Katie,” she said, pulling me closer to her.

I rubbed my cheek against her soft robe, trying to forget about the mushrooms. “This bus is cute,” I said. “I like these little cabinets and shelves.”

“Look up there.” She pointed behind me, and I twisted around to look.

“Our pictures!”

“I keep the Scotch tape handy. Everything you send me goes up on the wall.” Mom nodded at me. “Makes this rig feel like a home.”

“We’ll send more,” I said. “I do birds now.” I looked down at my pizza. Dad had missed a lot of mushrooms. They were still everywhere.

Mom got up for another bottle of water. “It’s summer vacation, huh? What have you been doing?”

“We’ve hardly had a chance to play,” I told her. “Dad’s been making us sort stuff.”

“We’re giving away extra things,” Dad said, “in case I take a job in Portland.”

“You would love it here in Portland,” Mom said. “There’s so much going on.” Outside the rig, a siren whistled, coming closer and then finally turning away from us.

I started to say, no, we wouldn’t, but Tyler interrupted.

“We went on a picnic,” he said, sitting up and opening his eyes. “With the Plummers and Ms. Morgan.”

“Silver Creek Falls,” Dad said. He wiped tomato sauce off Tyler’s mouth.

“We went there,” Mom said. “Oh my gosh. Was Tyler even born yet?”

“Katie was a baby.” He pulled the envelope from his pocket. “Want to see some photos?”

Mom wiped pizza off her fingers and took the first photo. “Is that little Claire Plummer?” she asked. “I can’t believe it.”

“Little Claire Plummer is quite the little lady now.” Dad grinned at me.

“She’s mostly a pain,” I said.

“Isn’t she the one who helped you take care of pets over spring vacation?” Mom asked.

I nodded. “Sometimes she’s okay. She told me she was sad we might move.”

“Who is this pretty woman?” Mom put her finger on Ms. Morgan.

“My teacher,” I told her. “She’s wonderful.”

“Katie’s teacher,” Tyler said with a yawn, “is very wonderful.” He propped his head up with one hand, and his eyes drooped again. Mom hugged Tyler closer to her. “She must be seriously dating Claire’s dad. Look at the three of them.”

I took the photo from Mom and stared at Ms. Morgan and Claire and Mr. Plummer sitting side by side on the picnic bench. “We just found out she has a boyfriend,” I said, but Mom had turned to the next picture, one of Tyler and Dad and me ducking under a waterfall.

When Tyler put his head in Mom’s lap and fell asleep, Dad looked at his watch.

“Don’t go yet,” Mom said. “I need to make sure you all understand about . . . about why I can’t come home.”

“Seeing you perform tonight made it really clear,” Dad said. “You’re a professional.”

I nodded as I remembered the cheers, the clapping, the excitement.

She looked down at Tyler and brushed his red hair back from his forehead. “I miss you all very much,” she said in a soft voice.

“But,” I asked, already knowing the answer, “you don’t want to do mom things anymore?”

“I’ll always be your mom. But I don’t have time to be the kind of mom who lives at home with you.” She shook her head slowly back and forth. “I’m sorry, Katie.”

I looked away from her. “You would probably have trouble,” I said, “getting up early for Tyler. And cooking for us.”

“Cooking is not my strong point,” Mom said.

I folded my mushroomy pizza into my paper napkin and pushed it away from me along with dreams of Mom bringing pancakes to the table or baking cookies. This is one of those bitter times, I thought, but a moment later, I remembered the sweet parts. “Singing makes you really happy, Mom. We’ll be okay.”

Dad nodded. “Katie and I talked about it tonight. We really are okay.”

Mom blotted her eyes with a paper napkin. She turned then and looked at the big calendar that hung on the side of the refrigerator. “August is coming. We’ll have our time together.”

“The last two weeks of August,” Dad said.

I nodded. “At Grandma’s house.”

“Your grandma is coming to my Spokane concert tomorrow,” Mom said, starting to smile again. “She’s bringing her whole bridge group to the concert.” She hummed and sang, “You’ve got to know when to hold’em, know when to fold’em.” She laughed. “I’ll sing them a cardplaying song.”

“Mom,” I said, “I know how to play Crazy Eights now. Can we play when we visit you?”

“Definitely. We’ll play Crazy Eights every day.”

Tyler sat up and rubbed his eyes. “We might bring a dog,” he said.

“A dog?”

“Lucy,” I said, “is the most wonderful dog.” I hugged my arms around myself and remembered Lucy’s warm, soft fur and her dark eyes.

“She smiles.” Tyler was suddenly wide awake. “Like this.” He pulled his lips into a big grin.

“She wags her tail all over the place. It’s this long, her tail.” I lifted my arms to show Mom.

“We’re not sure yet about the dog.” Dad got up and walked toward the door. “Right now, we need to get on the road.”

Mom hugged Dad. Then she pulled open a cabinet door. “I have some T-shirts for Katie and Tyler. And some new CDs.”

She hugged Tyler and then me. “I really do miss you all,” she said. She bit her lip and looked at Dad. I could see tears in her eyes.

“We miss you, too, Mom,” I said. Her strong arms kept on holding me close while her perfume floated around me.

“We’ll have a great time in August,” she said in a husky voice. As we went down the steps and started across the park, she stood in the door of the RV and waved good-bye.

A few minutes later, we got into our car. Pretty soon, we were back on the freeway, headed for home. After a while, I saw Dad looking into the mirror at me in the back seat. “You guys okay back there?”

“Sure,” I said, thinking he wanted to be sure my seat belt was fastened all the way. Then, I thought, maybe he was talking about the bittersweet. “I’m fine, Dad,” I told him, but as I curled up on the seat to sleep, I could feel a big empty place inside me.