e Helga's lost hers."
Ashley laughed. "Sometimes I think she wishes she did. The way she chases after some of the boys, I mean. She told me she would let Todd Philips do anything he wanted if he took her out."
"She said that?"
"Uh-huh." Ashley nodded, those big eyes even bigger.
"She might be disappointed," I muttered.
"Why?" Ashley asked quickly. "I thought that was the most wonderful thing that could happen."
"Who told you that?"
She shrugged again. "I just listen to what the others say, especially those who've had sex and brag about it in the girls' room. They make it sound wonderful."
"Well, I wouldn't really know . . . I've never . ." I was about to tell Ashley I'd never even been kissed, but I didn't really trust that she would keep that information to herself. "I've never been one to kiss and tell," I said instead.
We talked a while about movie star kisses and who we thought kissed best, and I could tell that Ashley was as curious about what it would be like to kiss a boy as I was.
After Ashley left, I began my homework, eager to think about something other than boys. Before Thelma and Karl went to sleep, he returned to my room.
"Maybe you should go to school tomorrow, Crystal. There's really no point in your sitting around here all day."
"Won't Thelma need me?" I asked.
He thought a moment. "She'll sleep a lot," he said. "Just the same, I think stay nearby," I offered. He smiled. "Okay. You're probably right. It's nice to have someone else in the house who cares about her," he added. I thought he might come farther into my room and kiss me good night, but he stood there, nodding a moment longer, and then he said good night and closed the door.
It takes time to become father and daughter, I thought, and with some it takes a lot longer.
Thelma didn't rise as early as she ordinarily did the next morning. Karl brought her some breakfast and then asked me to look in on her after a while. He said he was off to check on Grandpa before going to work. I offered to go along, but he said he would have to bring me home afterward and that would add too much time to his being away from his office.
"You'd be surprised how the work piles up on me," he said.
"Won't they understand at the company?" I asked him.
"No one supervises me more than I supervise myself," Karl replied. He nodded, his eyes intense. "That's the secret to being successful, Crystal: demand more of yourself than others do. You're your own best critic, understand?"
"Yes," I said.
He left, and I sat quietly, reading ahead in my history book, imagining what the next assignment would be. A little over an hour later, Thelma appeared in the living-room doorway. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes bloodshot. Her skin was ashen. She looked as if she had aged years in one night. She had a half dozen tissues clutched in her hand. Still in her nightgown, she shuffled across the room in what looked like Karl's slippers and plopped with a deep sigh into her favorite chair.
"Would you like something, Mom'?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I don't like thinking about my mother," she said softly. "It hurts. I wanted to go to the phone to call her this morning like I usually do before Shadows at Dawn. I actually lifted the receiver before I remembered she was gone."
She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "What can I do?" she cried.
"We could talk, Mom. Sometimes it feels better when you talk about what's bothering you," I said. My counselors always used that line on me when I was at the orphanages. There really was some truth to it, however.
Thelma stared at me a moment. "I can't," she said, shaking her head. "Every time I think about her, I start to cry. I can't. It's better not to think" She snapped up the television remote as if it were a bottle of pills promising relief.
She turned on the television set and flipped through the channels until she found a program she liked this time, she left the sound on, too. She began to react to what she was watching, smiling, laughing, looking concerned. I had begun to read again when I suddenly heard her say, "I dread going to the funeral tomorrow. Why do we have to have funerals?"
"It's our last chance to say good-bye," I said, even though I had never been to a funeral before and the very thought of going put almost as much apprehension in me.
"I don't want to say good-bye." She moaned. "I hate good-byes. I wish I could just sit here and watch it on television. That way, if it got too sad, I could turn it off, turn to something else."
"My psychologist at the orphanage always told me it's worse to avoid your problems, Mom. It's better to face them and deal with them," I said softly.