Music From Another World - Robin Talley Page 0,115
the paper. “Thank you. Tammy, I’m sorry, I…”
“Don’t worry about it. Just go back in, please.”
“What about you? Where will you go?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. You can call me at the store. Leave a message with Rosa and I’ll get it tomorrow.”
“What about until then? You can’t walk around the city all night again.”
“I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry.”
I shifted on my feet. This felt too much like a goodbye, and I still had a lot I needed to say to her. “I’ll come meet you at the store tomorrow.”
“Don’t. I’m not sure when I’ll be around—it depends on a lot of things. Besides, your brother’s going to need you.”
She was right. Still—“I’m so sorry this happened, Tammy.”
“Me, too.” She let out a tiny choking sound. “God, I’m so sorry. I ruined everything for your family.”
“You didn’t. It’s not that simple. Besides, none of this is your fault, not even a little bit.”
She shook her head. “There’s no point trying to figure this out now. Go. I’ll see you later.”
I wanted to touch her again. Instead I nodded and turned back toward home.
I told myself it was all right as I crossed the short distance up the block. I told myself I’d see her again. Soon.
But she was already out of sight when I climbed the steps and twisted the knob on the front door.
It was unlocked. The living room was quiet and empty. I stepped across it warily, as though I was walking into a war zone and had to keep alert for stray bullets.
“Mom?” I called. “Peter?”
My only answer was dishes rattling in the kitchen. I stepped through the door.
Mom was at the sink, twisting the faucet to run water over the breakfast plates. They were piled high, crusted with old syrup. I was supposed to have washed them this morning. Mom turned the water on full blast and shoved a plate under the tap.
“Mom?”
At first I didn’t think she’d heard me, but a moment later she turned her head without meeting my eyes. “Hi, Sharon.”
“Is Peter upstairs?”
She turned back to the dishes. “That girl can’t stay here anymore. I don’t want you seeing her again.”
I swallowed. “Mom, she didn’t do anything wrong, she—”
“You lied to me.” She wouldn’t look at me. “You might think I’m a fool, but I’m still your mother and you’re still a child, and I will not allow you to carry on this way.”
“I didn’t—”
“That’s enough. You’re grounded for the rest of the summer. I’ll pack up that girl’s things and put them on the porch. She can come pick them up when we’re not home, or if she doesn’t, I’ll throw them in the garbage, but she’s not setting foot inside this house again. Don’t go thinking you’ll be calling her or writing to her, either. Whatever it is that’s been happening to this family, it ends now.”
I gulped, tears pricking at my eyes. “I’ll pack her stuff. Peter can help me.”
“I don’t want you touching her things.”
What did Mom think? That Tammy was contagious? “Okay. I’ll just go upstairs then. Is Peter—?”
“Your brother’s not here.” Mom finally turned off the tap.
“What? Isn’t he grounded, too?”
“No. He’s gone.”
“What?” I didn’t understand.
Or…maybe I did.
“I told you. He’s gone. He isn’t coming back.” Mom turned her back on me, wrapping her arms around herself, her fingertips turning white as she gripped her elbows. She let out a hiccup, then a sob. “He said…he asked me to tell you goodbye.”
Yours, Sharon
Fall, 1978
Friday, September 22, 1978
Dear Tammy,
Hi.
I’m writing this early in the morning, staring out my window at the fog. I couldn’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking.
It’s been so long since I saw you. More than two months—gosh, it was June when you got here, and it was still