Holding Darkness Within
Sollipsist
2.
Caitlin was stretched out on her bed, her notebook open and a pen stuck thoughtfully in her mouth. The exact word was excruciatingly slow in coming to her, and she playfully strangled a stuffed purple teddy bear trying to get him to tell her. Off in the distance she heard the telephone ring downstairs, but just then a warm latesummer night breeze drifted through her open window and ruffled the pages of her notebook. She was trying to find the spot she’d lost when her mother called up to her. “Caitlin! Telephone!”
She let the teddy bear go with a warning and bounced down to the family room, where her mother held the phone out to her with a quizzical expression. “Ian, eh?” her mother said in a low, teasing voice. “I’ve not heard about this one.”
“Shh!” Caitlin hissed, gesturing for her to go away. Her mother gave her a raised eyebrow, and then disappeared down the hall. “Hi, Ian? What’s up?”
“Hey,” Ian’s voice said. “Ya know, the usual. Just trying to get my shit together for school.”
“I know,” she answered. “I’ve been trying not to think about it, really. I’ve had a great summer and I hate to see it end.”
“So did you guys end up getting a place?”
“What, didn’t Terri tell you?”
“I haven’t seen or heard from her all summer. You?”
“No, and I’m still pissed at her for taking off without saying goodbye.”
“Yeah, it’s kinda weird. But she did say a couple times that she was wanting to take the bus across country, see some shows, paint the scenery, that stuff.”
“Yeah, right. I hope she’s ok.”
“Terri? You know she always manages somehow. I bet she’ll show up at school with some great stories.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Caitlin was suddenly a little worried, and a little guilty for not worrying sooner why Terri hadn’t called her.
“So you guys did get a place?”
“Yeah, a big old house on the north end of town, heading out towards the dairy.”
“Got room for one more?”
“Jeez, Ian...way to wait until the last minute.”
“Yeah, I know,” he laughed. “Honestly, I didn’t know if they’d let me come back after last semester.”
“Your grades were that bad?”
“Well, they were at first, but I pulled off some quality work at the end that got me back in the game.”
Caitlin tried to figure out just how far away her mother was.
“It’s all that weed,” she said quietly, teasing him. “You and Terri both took a nosedive in your classes.”
“Yeah, I think I’m off that shit now though,” he said. “I mean, not totally but nothing like last year.”
“Listen, I did put in a good word for you but Heather’s totally against it.”
“Ah, fuck,” he said. “Why do you guys even hang out with that chick? I mean, no offense, I know she’s your friend but she’s kind of a bitch, you know?”
“Heather can be tough to deal with sometimes, but she’s got a good heart,” Caitlin said. “And it’s not just Heather; I’ll bet Min’s parents wouldn’t be too crazy about it either.”
“Well, come on, nobody’s parents have to know...”
Caitlin sighed. “You’re kind of a pain, you know? Oh well, I guess I could call around, and see if I can get them to change their minds—”
“Sweet! I knew you’d come through for me. I owe you, Cait.”
“I’m not promising—” she started, and then realized he’d hung up already.
“So tell me about this Ian,” her mother said, as Caitlin returned the phone handset to its cradle in the kitchen.
“Nothing to tell,” she answered. “He’s just a friend of ours from school. He’s trying to find a place to live this semester.”
“Oh, and he wants to stay with you girls at that big old house you’ve been talking about.”
“Maybe,” Caitlin said. “Would that bug you?”
“You know your father and I trust you, dear. As long as he’s got his own room I can’t see a problem. Why, when your father and I were in school—”
“I know, your pad was this huge communal hippie headquarters,” Caitlin laughed. “You never seem to mention how you dealt with the ‘free love’ trend, though...”
“Caitlin! We weren’t hippies, dear...it was the eighties, not the sixties, after all. How old do you think I am?”
“So you’re okay with it? Ian living at the house, I mean.”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have concerns, but I know you’ll make the right choices.”
“Thanks, Mom,” she said, and gave her a hug.
Heather rode in the passenger seat of a co-worker’s car. Small talk between the two had already faded and she stared out at the late-night street scenes whizzing by her as the car radio blasted a metal song from ten years ago. She was thinking about how she was looking forward to school. Her own summer had been a blur, working six or seven day weeks at the restaurant on the pier. At least this summer she’d been promoted to waitress, which meant better tips than getting stuck in the kitchen, but it also meant fending off the drunken advances of the summer tourists. She hated to admit it, but after two years at college her hometown was looking rather dismal. The boys she’d had fun with as a high school girl were still boys, and precious few men were around to reassure her of the virtues of the opposite sex. A couple times during the summer she’d gotten drunk and fooled around, but always with that next-morning regret and the forlorn looks on their faces when she informed them that she was not looking for anything serious.
She had what she thought of as a realistic view of her opportunities; the intelligence that sufficed to get her into (and hopefully through) college was her most important asset, and she planned to use it to its fullest extent. Or why else would she be wasting her summer trying to pay for it? But on the other hand, she was well aware that men found her desirable, and she was hoping to find a real good one to put this town behind her. Although after comparing herself with the girls at college, she came to realize that she bore a specific mark, either bred or acquired, that shouted “small town girl” to the world. Or even worse, “trailer trash”. This stigma haunted her no matter how smart she was, or how well she dressed, or even if she let her hair grow out in its natural brunette instead of bleaching it blond. Her worst fear was that she would end up single, pregnant and barely employable like so many of her friends...and like her own mother.
She mumbled a thanks and goodbye to the guy who’d driven her home, knowing that he had probably hoped to get lucky. She climbed tiredly up the worn porch steps and quietly tried to enter the darkened house without waking anyone. As soon as she walked into the kitchen, however, she saw that her mother was still up watching television. She sighed and went in to say hello.
“You got a phone call tonight,” her mother said. Her voice was thick and Heather smelled beer on her breath as they hugged limply.
“Oh yeah?” Heather asked with little interest.
“One of your friends from school, something about the place you’re gonna be living in.”
“Ah, crap,” Heather said, stealing one of her mother’s cigarettes. “I hope that didn’t get fucked up.”
“I don’t know, that’s all she said.”
Heather and her mother stared at the television in silence for a while.
“Did you and Chuck have a fight?” the girl hesitantly asked.
“Yeah, the asshole. Fuck him.”
Heather surreptitiously watched her mother, lit only by the blue-white flickering glow of the television. Heather remembered how much older, and more withered, the woman had looked every time the girl returned home from school. She was not a bad looking woman for her age, trim and long-legged like Heather; in the semi-darkness, they could almost be sisters. But Heather knew that the full light of day would reveal all the lines and leathery dullness of her skin, and the tired circles that clung under her eyes even after a rare good night’s sleep. There was a seldom-spoken but smoldering love in the girl’s heart for this woman, who had stubbornly raised her on a factory worker’s salary with no man in the house- at least not for more than a week or two at a time, anyway. Heather knew that to most people her mother was just another borderline alcoholic slut, but to Heather she was the very embodiment of a fierce side of motherhood, the little-discussed side that holds a baby safe and close while giving the rest of the world the finger.
Heather saw her mother’s eyes close. She quietly removed the beer bottle from her hand and gently extracted the still-burning cigarette from her taut fingers. She took a quick drag before putting it out and kissing her on the forehead.
“G’night mommy,” she whispered, and went to bed.
The next morning she found her mother’s hastily scrawled note (“Kate Lynn called, about house?") and spent the next half hour digging though her school stuff to try and find the other girl’s home number. Whereas she had a secret wistful envy of her friend Terri’s creativity, her feelings towards Caitlin were more complicated. Terri was relatively similar to Heather; they were both only children of single mothers, and both of them had been pretty wild in high school. Caitlin, in comparison, had an idyllic upbringing. Her family was a stable, upper-middle class picture of liberal propriety; her dad was in a country club and her mother was a charity volunteer who had never worked for a living. Caitlin was the middle child of three, and her schooling was paid for completely between academic scholarships and a dedicated interest-bearing investment account. Heather was perfectly willing to hate her when her roommate Terri began to hang around her during freshman year, but then Caitlin ended up being friendly and loyal and not the least bit snobbish.
“Hi, is Caitlin there? This is Heather.”
“Oh, sure dear...hold on just a moment and I’ll get her.” Heather was usually irritated by Caitlin’s mother’s voice- either a faded British accent or an exaggerated New England Ivy League patois. But again, she was always so nice and helpful that it made it no fun to be critical.
“Hey Heather, get in late last night? Wink.” Caitlin laughed.
“Oh yeah, you know me, non-stop party,” Heather replied. “How’s the summer going?”
“Great! I did this writer’s workshop for a few weeks and got to meet Russell Willers!”
“Oh...cool!” Heather ad-libbed, never having heard of him. “How is he in person?”
“Really, really helpful. He talked about cycles of minimalist and descriptive narrative, and the importance of timing.”
“I can relate to that,” Heather said, doodling a cartoon kitty on the notepad.
“Hey, have you talked to Terri at all?”
“Nope. You?”
“Not at all. I’m a little worried about her. Ian said he hasn’t heard from her either.”
Heather made a disparaging noise. It wasn’t that she had a reason to dislike the boy, but he reminded her a lot of the long-haired pot-smoking musician types that she inevitably got burned by in high school.
“Don’t get too freaked out,” Heather said. “You know Terri; she’s probably driving around the country with the Grateful Dead right now.”
“Heather, the Dead have been broken up for years.”
“Well, Phish then. I don’t know. It’s not really my thing.”
“Yeah, Ian pretty much said the same thing about her. I guess I’m overreacting.”
“So he’s calling you at home now, huh?” Heather teased.
“Well...” Caitlin had wanted to soften her up a little more first. “He’s still kinda looking for a place to live this fall. Before you say anything, he’s really nice and he won’t bug us at all. He promised. And it will be less rent for the rest of us...”
Like you care about the cost of the rent, Heather thought. “Christ, Caitlin...did you tell him he could?”
“I’d never do that, without asking first. I told him not to count on it, that I’d have to ask you first. But please, Heather, he’s got nowhere to go. And he’ll pay, don’t worry. He may not be all that responsible, but he’d never screw a friend over money.”
“Oh, shit. Well...fuck...I guess so, but he’s got to stay out of my way.”
“What’s your mom gonna say?” Caitlin tentatively ventured.
“Oh, she’ll be okay with it,” Heather said. Not only am I not going to bother to tell her, she thought- but even if I did, she couldn’t really argue, seeing how many guys she’s had living here with us.
“You are the best, Heather, thank you. It will mean a lot to him, really.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she answered.
“And you know, it might not even happen...I’ve still got to ask Min.”
“You think she’ll say no? She loves everybody.”
“It’s not her I’m worried about, it’s her parents. According to her, they’re pretty old-fashioned.”
Still groggy from decadently sleeping late, Min found herself staring into the bathroom mirror, turning her face slightly from side to side as the morning light fell on her smooth skin. “I am two people,” she thought, finding a position that cast half of her face in light, half in shadow. “I am a good daughter who goes to church and tries to be nice to everyone.” She turned her head away from the window. “I am a bad girl who teases boys shamefully and wonders about girls a lot.” She turned again. “I am Korean.” She turned away. “I am American.” She made a silly, hideous face at the reflection, giggling, “jjin dda!”
The telephone rang, echoing and harsh in the tiled bathroom. Min jumped, and giggled. “Hello?” she said, picking it up.
“Hey Min, it’s Caitlin.”
“Caitlin!” Min squealed. “Whee! How’s your summer going? Met any cute guys? How many books have you written so far?”
“Fifty,” Caitlin laughed. “All of them petered out after a dozen pages, though.”
“Petered,” Min giggled.
“Where are you?” Caitlin asked. “Sounds like you’re in a cave.”
“Oh, this is the bathroom phone,” said Min. “When we moved in here my mother wanted a phone in every room for some reason. Kinda gross if you think about it. I promise I won’t poop while we’re talking.”
“Thanks,” Caitlin laughed. “So how’s your summer?”
“Weird,” Min said. “Well, not really. It’s always strange living at home after being on my own. Well, not on my own but you know. I wanted to get a job but my father said no. Oh, and I went to see Turbo in concert! Oh, you probably don’t know them, huh. Well they were cool, anyway.”
“I got a question for you,” Caitlin said.
“Shoot!”
“Ian asked to live at the house with us this semester. What do you think?”
“Ian’s cool. I like him. He’d be cuter if he shaved though; that goatee thing is getting old.”
“But how do you feel about him living with us?”
“Umm...it’s okay with me. But I don’t think my father will go for it. Should I not tell him?”
“I’m not going to tell you to lie to your parents, Min.”
“Yeah. Hmm. Toughie.” Min thought about her traditional, strict father and the types of things she’d been able to get away with in the past. “Hey, let me ask my mom what she thinks. She’s much better at talking him into things than I am. I’ll call you back.”
“Okay.”
Min hung up and wandered downstairs. Her mother was finishing the clean-up of the morning meal, and gave her a friendly wag of the finger as she entered. “Lazy girl! You know how your father hates it when you miss breakfast.”
“Mmm, what are we having?”
“Nothing left. All the food is gone, you missed it.”
“Oh. Okay,” Min giggled. Her mother turned and sat a full plate in front of her.
“As if,” her mother said. “Is that right, how you kids say it? ‘As if’,” she repeated, smiling.
“What-ever,” Min laughed again, covering her mouth. “You thinking of joining the cheerleaders, mom?”
“No, I want to be one of the smart kids, like my beautiful daughter,” she answered. “Your hair looks very cute like that.”
“Father hates it.”
“Ahh, he just wants your hair natural again. Plenty of time for that when you get old like me.”
“Silly. You’re younger than Madonna.”
“No...really? Imagine, a woman my age acting like that. My mother was a grandmother by then.”
“Should I be giving you grandchildren by now?” asked Min, giggling.
“Don’t you dare. I want you to have as much fun as you can before you have to devote yourself to a child. There’s so much for you to see and do!”
“Mama, I have to ask you something.”
“Oh, no. When you get serious—”
“No, no, nothing bad. My friend from school called me and said that we may have another house-mate this fall.”
“That’s not all, though, is it?”
“Well, it’s a boy. But a nice one! He’ll have his own room and the rent will be cheaper and really it won’t be any big deal, ok?”
“Oh, daughter...you know what your father would say, don’t you?”
“I know.”
“Well, your father doesn’t need to know everything, I suppose. We will have another girlish secret between us. But be very careful.”
“Oh, mom...thank you. I will. You are the best!”
“Just to be safe, I think I will come live there with you. You can tell everyone we’re twins!”
“As if,” Min laughed.