A Good Yarn

Annie didn’t respond for a moment, and when she did speak, her voice was barely above a whisper. “When Dad first left, I thought for sure he’d be back. I hated him for leaving us. I wanted to…to punish him, and at the same time, I wanted him here, the way he’d always been.” She looked away as if she’d said more than she’d intended.



“I didn’t cry at my mom’s funeral,” Courtney confessed. “Everyone was sobbing and carrying on. Even my dad broke down.” It was difficult to tell anyone this, even now, but she felt Annie would understand.



“Why not?” Annie asked.



“I think I must’ve been in shock. So many people came to the funeral and there was all this talk about how good Mom looked. She didn’t look good—she looked dead.” Her voice cracked as she said this and she lowered it, not wanting Annie to hear how emotional she got talking about her mom. “I wanted everyone to go away. I didn’t want all those people around me. That night—” she paused, swallowing hard “—after everyone left and we’d gone to bed, I couldn’t sleep. Then it hit me. We’d just buried Mom. This wasn’t like some TV show. She was gone. I couldn’t stand it. I started to scream.”



Annie stared at her. “You must’ve felt bad,” she said quietly.



“I did. So bad.” Courtney nodded. “I couldn’t stop. I screamed and screamed. Everyone came rushing into my room, and all I could do was scream. I wanted my mother. I wanted her with me. I felt like I was the one who died, not her. I wished it was me.”



“What did your dad do?”



“Dad held me.” Tears streaked her face and once again she wiped them away.



“Then Jason and Julianna sat on my bed with Dad and me, and we all cried together. Up until then, I’d been the youngest, you know? Julianna and I weren’t that close—Jason and I weren’t, either—but we became real brother and sisters that night. Our whole family changed. We’re all so close now.” She was embarrassed to have said this much.



Annie looked as if she didn’t know what to say.



Courtney wanted her to realize that while she’d lost her father, he was still a part of her life, and she should be grateful for that.



“My room’s over here.” Annie gestured down the hallway.



Courtney gave the photos one last look and followed her slowly up the rest of the stairs and into the bedroom.



Annie was sitting on her bed when Courtney came in. Discarded clothes littered the floor and the dresser was piled with CDs, books, makeup and magazines. A picture of a boy was stuck in a corner of the mirror.



Courtney walked over to study the snapshot. Another one she hadn’t initially noticed was taped to the bottom edge of the mirror. It was of Annie and the same boy at a school dance, standing beneath an archway of white and black balloons. Annie wore a pink party dress with a matching floral shawl and her date had on a suit.



“That’s Conner,” Annie whispered, her voice quavering. “We broke up a couple of months ago. He said I’d gotten to be a drag.”



“He’s cute.” Courtney assumed Annie still cared about him, otherwise she wouldn’t have kept the photos.



Annie shrugged. “He’s all right.”



“Do you ever see him anymore?”



“Once in a while. He’s going out with someone else now, but he’s on the football team with Andrew, so it’s unavoidable, you know? You like my brother, don’t you?”



Courtney whirled around at the unexpectedness of the comment and felt color flood her face. “I—I think he’s nice.” She was afraid to say more, for fear it would be misconstrued. Andrew was cute and popular and, according to Bethanne, one of the school’s star athletes. Probably every girl there was already in love with him. Courtney didn’t figure she had a chance, and she accepted that. She wouldn’t waste her time pining over a lost cause. If she was lucky, maybe they could be friends….



Annie heaved a sigh. “Speaking of my brother, he said I had to thank you for what you did that night. He’s right. I…I wasn’t really angry at you afterward.”



“I know. You were angry with yourself more than anything. You got in deeper than you meant to, and then it was too late.”



Annie stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry about your mom,” she said. “But my dad—it’s not the same. My dad wanted to leave. Your mother didn’t. He walked away, and now it’s as if Andrew and I are nothing more than…than collateral damage. All he cares about is her.” Annie’s face was red as she spit out the words.



Courtney resisted the urge to squeeze her hand, knowing the other girl might reject her comfort. After a moment, she added, “Your father’s gone and your entire life’s been turned upside down. My life was too, Annie. It might not seem the same, but in some ways it was. I wouldn’t be living in Seattle if my mother hadn’t died, and my dad wouldn’t be in South America risking his life, either.”



“If my father could keep his pants zipped, my mother wouldn’t be out singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to a bunch of brats and—” Annie began to sob, then jerkily moved her hand across her cheek. “I don’t want to talk about my dad, all right? I hate him and it doesn’t matter.”



“We can talk about anything,” Courtney told her.



Annie seemed to relax, as though she was relieved to change the subject. “The thing is, I actually think it’s cool what my mom’s doing. She always loved putting on parties, and she’s really enjoying this. And you know what? She’s making money. We’re getting a lot of phone calls, and Andrew and I help out whenever we can. I have a surprise for her. Want to see?”



“Sure,” Courtney said.



Annie leaped off the bed and sat down at her desk, turning on her computer. “Come and look,” she said, glancing over her shoulder.



Courtney stood behind Annie as she brought up a graphic arts display. It featured balloons in one corner and a brightly decorated cake in the center, under a banner that read PARTIES BY BETHANNE, Birthdays a Specialty. Below that was their phone number.



“What do you think?” she asked. “It’s for a business card.”



“It’s great!”



“I wasn’t sure about the balloons, but it needs something there, don’t you think?”



Courtney examined it again and disagreed. “Take them out,” she suggested.



With a click of her mouse, Annie deleted the balloons. She cocked her head to one side and nodded. “You’re right. It looks cleaner without the balloons. Besides, Mom said someone phoned and asked about an adult birthday party and I think balloons are more associated with kids, don’t you?”



Courtney nodded. “This whole party idea has taken off, hasn’t it?”



Annie smiled. “It’s been really wild around here. Andrew and I thought Mom should have her own business cards. I guess she’ll need a Web site next.” She returned her attention to the screen. “Anything else I should change?”



Courtney studied the graphic for another couple of minutes. “You might want to use a different font,” she suggested, “one of the less fancy ones. This one’s pretty but it’s kind of difficult to read. Try Comic Sans or Verdana. Or maybe Georgia.”



Annie made the changes, deciding on Comic Sans, and sat back to examine the effect. “Hey, I like that.”



So did Courtney. “This is really nice—you doing this for your mom, I mean.”



“She asked me to work at one of her parties this weekend,” she said, still focusing on the monitor.



“Are you going to?” Courtney didn’t mention that she’d volunteered, too.



“Yeah, I guess. She said you might be there.”



“I was thinking about it.”



“I’ll do it if you will,” Annie said and looked up, grinning.



A warm feeling touched Courtney. “Does this mean we’re friends?” she asked. It was an awkward question, but she needed to know.



Annie seemed to seriously consider it. After a moment she said, “I’d like that. And I know I already said this, but Andrew’s right—I do owe you. He says you saved my ass.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “So…thanks.”



“It’s okay.” Courtney dismissed her gratitude. “I did some pretty stupid stuff myself after Mom died. One day I started a fire behind the grocery store. I can’t even explain why I did it.” She lowered her head. No one knew about that, not even her sister. “I was hurting so bad. It was stupid, and if anyone ever found out, I’d probably still be in some detention center.”



“You didn’t go to a rave, though, did you?”



“No, but I was younger than you. Trust me—I got into my share of trouble.”



Annie’s responding smile was weak, and she bit her lip. “According to the therapist I saw, what happened to us is pretty common. I’m not alone. Families split up, fathers walk away, and the kids just have to cope. I’m not very good at that. And…and I thought my father loved me.”



“I’m sure he does.” Courtney felt confident of that, although she could tell it was hard for Annie to believe.



“Maybe,” Annie agreed reluctantly. “But he loves her more. It’s all right, though—I’m dealing with it.” Tears sprang to her eyes and she tried to blink them away.



“Can you print out that design?” Courtney asked, hoping to distract Annie. She pretended not to notice she was crying.



“Good idea.” Annie turned back to her computer, reached for the mouse and clicked on the printer icon. The printer started to hum, and they both stared at it as a sheet of paper slowly emerged.



Courtney picked it up and studied the design. “It looks fabulous.”



“You think so?” Annie asked. “I mean, I think it does, but it has to be perfect, you know? It has to look professional.”



“It does. Your mom’s going to flip when she sees it.”



Annie’s smile was bright with unshed tears. “Thanks, Court.”



Court—that was what her friends in Chicago used to call her. For the first time since she’d left home, she didn’t have that empty feeling in her stomach.



“Hey, what are you two up to?” Andrew asked, leaning against his sister’s door.



He looked really good. He must’ve just returned from football camp because he carried his gym bag, which was unzipped. His cleats were on top.



“I designed Mom some business cards,” Annie told him.



Courtney handed him the printout.



“Hey, this is good!”



“Don’t act so surprised,” his sister snapped.



His eyes met Courtney’s, and he grinned. “You two want to go out for pizza?”



“You buying?” Annie asked.



“Sure. I got paid this week.” He gestured at Courtney. “Can you come?”



“I’d like to.” One slice of pizza and a small salad would be fine. She’d enjoy her friends’ company and eat a reasonably healthy meal.