Music From Another World - Robin Talley Page 0,116

June when your aunt showed up and everything went to Hell.

Please believe me, I tried to call you at the store the way we planned, but Mom wouldn’t let me touch the phone for two days after you left. She unplugged both extensions, took the phones into her room, and hid them. She made me call in sick to the O’Sullivans, too, even though it meant Mr. O’Sullivan couldn’t go to work. When she finally let me go back to babysitting she made me swear on Jesus’s name I wouldn’t use the phone while I was there, and, well… I did it, anyway. I didn’t think Jesus would mind. But Rosa told me you’d quit, and you hadn’t given them a number to reach you. She sounded sad about it, but I bet I sounded sadder.

I’m so sorry, Tammy. There were so many things I wanted to say to your aunt that day, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted to stop what was happening, but I didn’t know how. I was scared. So scared I was useless.

I’ve been permanently grounded since you left. I can only leave the house for babysitting and church, and school, too, now that it’s started back up. Mom barely goes out, either, so we do a lot of avoiding each other. She spends most of the time in her room with the door shut. Even more than she used to.

I guess that’s mostly what I’ve been doing, too. I miss hanging out at the bookstore. I miss going to clubs, too, but not as much as I thought I would. I’ve got my records—I still listen to Horses every night—but going to shows, losing myself in the anger there…I don’t need that as much as I used to. I’m angry because I’m sick of everyone expecting me to want the same things they want, but I don’t need to yell about that as much as I did before. Instead I’m thinking more about the things I do want, and how to make them happen.

I think about you every day, Tammy. Ever since I talked to Rosa, I’ve been desperate to know if you were still in the city, and if your aunt went looking for you again. And a lot of other things, too.

I know the answer to the first question, finally. My brother called yesterday while Mom was at a faculty meeting. He’d heard through the Castro grapevine that you’re staying with Evelyn and her roommates at their house near Valencia. He couldn’t get your phone number, but he found your address so I could write to you. He’s a good brother.

I was so happy when I heard that you’d found a place. So, so, so happy. I’m glad you’re with friends, but mostly I’m just glad you’re okay.

Peter even heard you’re going to be in some kind of art show soon. That’s so awesome! Maybe I can sneak out to see it.

I can’t help being angry you had to go hunting for somewhere to live, though, with no help from your family at all, even after they found out where you were. You’re only seventeen, the same as me. As Mom tells me over and over, I’m legally a child, which means I’m her responsibility. Well, that makes you your parents’ responsibility.

It’s different for Peter. Where he lives is his choice, and things between him and our mother are…not good.

They still haven’t seen each other, not since that day. He told me the rest of what happened, though.

As soon as your aunt and I left the house, Mom started crying. Peter went over to the couch and tried to reassure her, and at first he thought it was working, but then she started to scream. She shouted about how she hadn’t raised Peter to be gay and it was our father’s fault for walking out on us and…well, you get the idea.

So Peter left. He went up to his room, grabbed some clothes and some books, came back downstairs, and walked out the back door.

Mom didn’t speak the whole time he was packing up. When he said goodbye she just sat on the couch, staring out the living-room window, as though if she ignored what was happening, my brother would