Second Summer of the Sisterhood (Sisterhood 2)

“Because I don’t want to. It’s my business, and I don’t feel like sharing it. Understand?”

“Yes,” Lena said, quietly defeated. What else could she say?

“I don’t want you to bring it up with me again.”

“Okay.”

Rain began to splash against the windshield. Lightning cracked the sky. This had the makings of a great summer lightning storm. Lena loved those.

“What about the next time I don’t want to share something in my life with you?” Lena asked. She couldn’t help adding that. She couldn’t come away totally empty-handed.

Ari sighed. “It depends what it is. But just so we keep things straight, I’m the mother, you’re the daughter.”

“I know that,” Lena mumbled.

“It’s not always fair.”

It’s never fair, Lena felt like saying, but for once she managed to keep her mouth closed.

Her mother pulled into their driveway. She turned off the engine, but she didn’t make a move to get out.

“Lena, can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” Lena said, wishing and hoping her mother had suddenly decided to alter her course.

“Who told you about Eugene?”

This was not what she had been hoping for. She kneaded her hands and cleared her throat. “I don’t think I feel like sharing that with you.”

Joe, the baby, was playing with cars on the floor, and Jesse was watching a TV show involving cats that spoke English with a Chinese accent. Carmen felt a little guilty, not doing more to earn her money, but Jesse liked the show a lot and it was on channel thirteen, so that meant it was good for him, right?

Besides, she had a lot of things to worry about, and she could do that better when the kids were quiet. She wanted to call Bee because she hadn’t heard her voice in eight days, but she couldn’t, so she called Lena at work.

“My job is much harder than your job,” Lena said accusingly when she picked up.

“You are so wrong. Have you ever spent time with a four-year-old boy?” Carmen demanded. This was part of a running argument.

“So how come you’re always calling me, if it’s so hard?”

“Because I care about you so much.”

Lena laughed. “Seriously, the Duffer is withering my soul with her eyes right now. I can’t talk.”

“Have you heard from Bee?” Carmen asked.

“No.”

Suddenly a howl filled the room. Then two louder ones. Jesse was taking Joe’s cars. “See?” Carmen said smugly to Lena before she hung up.

“Jesse!” Carmen intervened. “Let Joe play with the cars!”

“Nooooooo! They’re miiiiiiiine.”

“Come on, Jesse. Just give him the cars. Don’t you want him to be quiet so you can hear the TV?” Carmen felt nefarious, as if she were offering him a cigarette.

“No!” Jesse shouted. He wrenched the car out of Joe’s fat hand. Joe’s cry was so passionate it made no sound. His face turned purple, except for the creases around his nose and forehead, which turned greenish.

“Jesse, can’t you share?” Carmen begged.

When Joe’s cry finally picked up noise, it nearly blew the roof off.

Carmen scooped Joe off the floor and ran him around the room. “Want to play with my cell phone?” she asked in desperation.

It was Joe’s favorite off-limits pastime. He had once called Carmen’s father at work.

She thrust the phone at the baby, wincing as he accessed her speed-dial menu. Joe’s face returned to a normal color instantly. “Careful, honey, I’m over my minutes,” she pleaded as he pressed all the buttons.

Jesse stomped over and stuck his hand out. “I want the phone,” he said.

Carmen sighed. She was out of her depth here. What did she know about sharing? She was an only child. She never shared anything. She’d missed that lesson.

Carmen was ready to give up all hope when Joe magnanimously handed Jesse the cell phone. Jesse didn’t actually want the cell phone if Joe didn’t, so he dumped it on the floor. Then Jesse kindly handed the yellow car to Joe and kept the blue one for himself.

Five minutes later, both boys were crawling happily around the floor, one car apiece. Carmen sat on the couch and watched the boys play, wondering if maybe that lesson she’d missed had actually contained something valuable.

“His left isn’t for shit,” Bridget said to Billy.

Billy, though still frightened of her, had gotten a little used to her.

Burgess was playing their third game of the season, and they were still without a win. It was the first one Bridget had attended, and she watched it as avidly as if it were the World Cup.

Billy came a little closer to her. The dark green game jersey matched his eyes.

Bridget dropped her voice and leaned in to him. “Mooresville goalie. No left.”

She knew Billy wanted to ignore her, but he couldn’t completely.

Two possessions later, Billy smacked it hard and wide to the goalie’s left side. It went into the net without a fight.

Everybody screamed on the sidelines. Billy turned and gave Bridget a thumbs-up. It was a stupid gesture, but she smiled at him anyway.

Burgess won 1–0. The guys on the team and their friends and all their pretty groupies went out to celebrate, and Bridget went home to her boardinghouse alone. But she was too ramped up to stay in her room, so she dug her running shoes out of the bottom of her suitcase. She hadn’t used them in months. She put them on and stepped outside.

She ran straight down Market Street all the way to the river. She remembered the pretty, overgrown path that ran alongside it. The place with the arrowheads. On the far side of the river she saw the ancient, broken-down oak trees giving shelter to hardy weeds and climbers at the expense of their own failing branches.

She’d run so many miles in her life, her body seemed to welcome the exercise. On the other hand, it started to complain after only a mile or so in the July heat. She felt all the extra weight on her hips and shoulders and arms. It wrecked her stride and it wrecked her breathing.

Her mind flashed to the Traveling Pants. Just this morning she’d sent them on their way. She hadn’t even worn them. She felt angry at herself, and it made her run faster and farther. And the longer she ran, the more she felt like she was carrying a burden and she wanted it off.

Lena distinctly remembered the last time the Rollinses had had their Fourth of July barbecue, because she had thrown up all over the red-and-white checkered tablecloth. She had always blamed the watermelon, but one could never be certain. They had been ten years old that summer.

The barbecue had been an annual tradition from when they were babies, but the year they were eleven it went on long-term hiatus. Though nobody ever said so, Lena knew it was because of Bee’s mom. The relationships between the grown-ups were never easy after that.

She wasn’t exactly sure why it had been resurrected now, six years later. For a brief moment she had feared it was because Bee was away this summer, but she realized that Tibby’s mom had issued the invitations before Bee had impulsively up and gone.

Lena had another troubling thought: Had this party made Bee want to leave town?