THE RATLIFFE HOUSE – Chapter Forty-One
THE RATLIFFE HOUSE – Chapter Forty-One
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Mom closed the bedroom door behind us.
“So, this is where you’ve been living the last four weeks.” She scanned the room like an appraiser, taking in the furniture, the floors, the curtains, and the unmade bed. “Would’ve been nice for me to know about it, don’t you think?” Her eyes fixed on me, and I shrank back against the judgment.
“I was gonna tell you.”
“When?”
I couldn’t answer.
She pursed her lips. “You know, Lucy, I took a big step trusting you to come all the way over here by yourself. I didn’t want to do it, but I thought, ‘Melinda, she’s almost twenty-one, it’s time to loosen the strings. What’s the worst that can happen?’”
She walked over to my desk, nudged aside my laptop, and dropped down her giant purse, which seemed to audibly exhale as its leather girth puddled over the desk’s surface. I stifled a grunt of resentment. Mom, however, was now fixated on the bed, which she began to neaten as she spoke.
“And then last week the care package I sent you got returned in the mail. I thought, no big deal, I probably just wrote down the wrong address.” She pulled the sheets and covers taut, pushing my pink blanket to the foot of the bed, and then began to vigorously clap the sides of my pillow until it stood up straight and full. “I figured I’d call you, get the right address, and send it again. I mean, you have a cell phone. Getting in touch should be no problem, right?”
She gave me another laser-sharp look. I gulped. My eyes went to the pink blanket. Was she going to touch that too? But instead, she went back to the desk.
“And then I got these in the mail last Thursday.” She dug into her purse, produced three envelopes, and held them out to me. “Go on. Take them. They’re for you.”
Reluctantly, I accepted them. The top edges were ragged where they’d been opened with a penknife, and the outsides were stamped with red letters declaring FINAL NOTICE and OVERDUE-URGENT. I glanced at the return addresses. They were all my credit card bills. I must have missed a payment somewhere. Dang it! Now she knows.
“I only opened them because I thought there was some kind of mistake. But I guess you don’t accidentally spend five hundred dollars at the J. Crew winter sales event, do you? Or a thousand dollars eating out at every restaurant near the campus? Or maybe it’s the online shopping? Or movie tickets? Or goodness-knows-what junk at Target?”
Her voice was rising. I felt my skin prickling.
“Mom, I’ve been making payments since January. I was figuring it out. I must’ve just missed a payment while I was here.”
Mom pinched the bridge of her nose—something she only did when she was super-frustrated. “Lucy, do you really not understand how the interest works on these things? If you only make the minimum payment, it keeps compounding so you owe more every month. I mean, look how crazy the interest rate is on this Visa.” She jabbed a finger at one of the numbers on the bill. “You’d have to be an idiot to think you could pay this off just by doing the minimum!”
So, I’m an idiot. Thanks for the finance lesson, Mom. I didn’t dare say the words out loud. But apparently, my face said it for me.
“You can quit that look right now, young lady.”
“Fine!” I threw my hands into the air. “I screwed up. I’ll figure something out. But …” I threw a Hail Mary, barely knowing what I was saying, not even sure I meant it, “but you could at least let me stay here and finish out my class. I mean, a spot opened up in one of the dorms. I’m supposed to move in on Monday, so I won’t even be living here anymore.”
“Oh, the same dorm where you fell down the stairs and nearly broke your neck?” she asked.
“It was an accident.”
“Right. You know, Lucy, it’s interesting the stories that taxi drivers tell. When I asked the one this morning about the fairground equipment trucks passing us as we came into town, he told me all about that ‘special invitation-only ball’ you mentioned in your email. Except the funny thing is, it’s really an all-night drinking party with rides and games, isn’t it? And from what I hear, the tickets are pretty expensive too. How much do you want to bet that if I look in your wallet, there’s barely ten bucks left from the cash I gave you at the airport?”
I avoided her gaze, though I could feel her eyes boring into me.
“And exactly how much did you drink during that party?” she demanded.
“The drinking age is eighteen here, Mom.”
“That’s not what I asked you.”
I bit my lip.
“I’m waiting.”
“I dunno. A lot.”
“And then I’m supposed to believe you were just ‘hanging out’ in someone’s room at the dorm during this booze-fest?”
I felt my cheeks turning hot with shame, remembering my encounter with Kevin. There was no hiding the situation from Mom, who might as well have X-ray vision.
“That’s what I thought.” She sighed. “You know, Lucy, you are too smart to be this stupid. I thought I raised you better than this.”
I hung my head. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
“Please tell me you used protection,” she pleaded.
“We didn’t do anything. I left before we could … y’know.”
I heard her release a little breath of relief. “Well, thank goodness for that. I’ve tried to tell you before, Lucy, boys only want one thing. And I’m not sure I even want to know the situation with you living at this house with Mr. What’s-his-name.”
“No, Adam’s not like that. He’s really nice. He even stayed with me the whole time at the hospital.”
“Why?” She frowned and crossed her arms across her chest.
“Because we’re … we’re friends.”
She gave me a hard stare. “Are you sleeping with him too?”
“Mom, no! It’s not like that. We just talk a lot. And he introduced me to his brother and let me drive his car and … and stuff like that. Just hanging out.”
“Sounds like he’s grooming you for something.”
“He’s not, I promise! It was his idea for me to move back to campus when the room opened up. I actually didn’t even want to go.”
“So, he wanted you to move out, and you wanted to stay?”
Great job, Lucy. Now you’ve opened a whole other can of worms.
“I just like spending time here is all.”
Mom took a step forward, like she was trying to sniff out something. “So, Friday night you were about to go to bed with heaven-knows-who during this big party on campus, but what you really want is to hang out with your adult man-friend at his house? Explain that one to me.”
“I just … I got kind of confused. I thought … I dunno.” Mom was not the person I could spill my guts to without fear of judgment. There was no way she would understand.
Mom pursed her lips again, as though deciding whether to pursue it further. Finally, she sighed.
“You know, Lucy, you need to be a lot less focused on relationships right now and get your head on straight. You’ve got one year until the real world hits and right now you’re doing a pretty crappy job of being an adult.” She shook her head. “Now, where’s your suitcase?”
###
We spent the next hour in near-silence, punctuated only by occasional comments from my mom on how much I’d overpacked. My only respite was when we came to the bag from the hospital, and I made the excuse of needing to throw out my shredded gown in the larger kitchen trash can.
Mrs. Scott looked up from her magazine as I entered the kitchen. “Everything all right, dear?”
“Yeah, just getting rid of this,” I said, stuffing my blue satin dress into the trash. I checked over my shoulder, then whispered, “Did you hear from Adam?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, love. I’ve left several messages. I’m sure he’ll call back as soon as he can.”
My heart sank.
“Are you leaving so very soon?” she asked.
“Yeah. I think Mom wants to get out as quick as she can. She doesn’t like to fly.”
On cue, my mom’s voice summoned to the bedroom. I thanked Mrs. Scott for trying and hurried back down the hall.
“Listen,” Mom said, “I need you to pack up your computer and make sure you have your passport and ID ready. I’m going outside to call the taxi and let Frank know we’re on our way.”
I nodded.
“And Lucy? Try not to take all day, okay?”
I rolled my eyes as soon as she turned away. Like it wasn’t enough for her to insult all my choices, she also had to treat me like I was twelve. I went to turn off my computer and noticed Trish was active on Instant Messenger.
L: See you soon.
T: ???
L: I’ll be on a flight home by noon London time
T: What happened?
L: Long story. Mom’s here, g2g
If Trish wrote back, I never saw the message. I quit Instant Messenger and shut down the computer, winding up all the cords as best I could and shoving them into my backpack along with my clutch purse and passport. Somehow, with her ninja packing skills, Mom had managed to fit everything, including most of my books, into my suitcase with room to spare. It sat upright and ready by the foot of the bed, the pink blanket laying just beside. I gathered the soft flannel in my arms and squeezed for comfort.
Should I take it with me? Then I remembered Mom’s tirade. “Right now, you’re doing a pretty crappy job of being an adult.” I guessed she was right. Nothing here was meant to be mine for long. I couldn’t take care of it. I couldn’t even take care of myself.
I folded up the blanket in a neat square, wrapped it with the cord, and took in the room one last time. It was as empty as the day I’d come to the Ratliffe House, almost like I’d never come at all. The shrill ringing of the kitchen phone broke the silence. Time to go. I didn’t even bother to listen to what Mrs. Scott was saying on the phone as I headed to the sitting room with my bookbag and suitcase, my shoulder aching all the way. The front door swung open. Mom came in, breathless, hair frizzier than ever.
“Oh, you’re ready,” she said, looking me over.
Don’t look so surprised that I did something right. She didn’t notice my bitter scowl, glancing to her watch instead.
“The taxi will be here in a minute. I’m going to change—I didn’t think the benches would be so wet.”
She disappeared around the corner, taking her little overnight suitcase with her. I sank into the couch of the sitting room for a brief moment, staring out the front window like that first day when Dr. Mosely brought me. The taxi arrived a moment later, and I didn’t even wait for the driver to get out before I started to make my way to the door. But Mrs. Scott stopped me, emerging from the office with a brown paper package.
“Miss Lucy? That was Mr. Adam on the phone just now. He asked me to give you this.” She placed the package in my hands.
“I … I don’t think I should accept anything,” I said, trying to hand it back.
“He insisted. He said he’d already planned to give it to you on Monday. He’ll be returning in only an hour if you—”
The doorbell rang.
“That’s not the taxi already, is it?” Mrs. Scott asked, clearly dismayed.
Mom came around the corner with her bag.
“Oh good, the car’s here. Lucy, did you find your passport?”
While Mom was distracted with the driver and loading my ginormous suitcase, I slipped the package into my backpack. The last thing I wanted was her insisting that I give it back or nosing around to see whatever was inside. Once all our stuff was in the car, I gave a big hug to Mrs. Scott, her mass of gray curls tickling my cheek.
“Thank you for everything,” I said, feeling tears bubble up to my eyes again.
“You’ve been a ray of sunshine in a dark corner, love. You’ll be missed by all of us. Now then, chin up. Everything will be alright, you’ll see.”
The taxi door closed, sealing off the warm scent of roses and cut grass with the overpowering odor of exhaust fumes and air freshener. I stifled a gag and turned to look out the rear window as the car pulled away. For as long as I could, I tried to keep my eyes open, taking one last mental picture of the Ratliffe House. It didn’t work. The image faded from my memory as soon as it disappeared from sight. Soon, I was sure, the cleaners and the builders and the passage of time would erase all memory of me too. It would be like I’d never come at all. But at least I was no longer leaving empty-handed.
Subtly, I nudged my backpack across the floorboard with my foot and tucked it behind my legs, shielding it from Mom’s view. The brown package, and whatever was inside, beckoned. But what could it possibly be?
