Chapter 29: Saturday Breakfast

Rebecca Louise Freeman, age 12 years and 364 days, wearing long flannel pyjamas and a dressing gown, sat on the floor of her living room. Her long brown hair was unbound and hung freely down her back.

I live inside her head. Sometimes it seems to me that all I can do is watch helplessly while she lives her life. It’s a bit like I’m a passenger on the runaway train that is Rebecca. Then there are the times when I remember that she is me.

I looked out at the room through Rebecca’s eyes. I listened through her ears as she heard a distant drumming sound. It was the sound of two little feet, attached to the ends of two little legs, pounding down the hallway. Rebecca – I mean I – sat up straighter and a warm smile spread across her face – I mean my face.

A little bundle of energy called Angie burst into the living room and headed towards the TV – obviously hoping to turn it on and watch some cartoons before anyone told her not to. She saw us and skidded to a halt.

Angie’s hair hovered around her head in a halo of static and tangled curls. She wore a long t-shirt nightie with a picture of dancing elephants in frilly pink tutus on the front. She was also wearing a pair of bright purple shoes with fluorescent pink trim and Velcro fasteners.

“Pearl, this is our little Angel,” I said in a voice little more than a whisper.

“Angie, this is Pearl. She’s a friend of Dan’s who came to visit and have breakfast with us.”

“Oh!” said Angie and looked at Pearl doubtfully.

“Hi, Angie! I love your shoes. They’re very pretty.”

“I put them on all by myself,” said Angie with obvious pride.

I held out my arms and invited Angie to sit on my lap. She did so, sitting sideways so she could watch Pearl. Angie noticed my picture which Pearl had rescued from my lap and was now holding. I wrapped my arms loosely around my little sister and hugged her.

“That’s me!” A little finger pointed at her part of my picture. “But I don’t have wings.”

“Yes you do,” I said. “But they’re hidden inside of you where nobody can see them. Only a few special people know they’re there.”

“Where inside me?”

“Right here,” and I ran my fingernails lightly up and down her back, which produced a few giggles and a bit of wriggling. I was going to say some more, but Angie had already lost interest in the picture.

I decided to do something a little bit of my brain had been thinking about all night. I hadn’t been sure I was going to do it until this instant.

“There’s someone else I want you to meet. Her name is Lucy.” I held Lucy in front of Angie with one hand. “She’s been a very special friend to me for a very long time.”

Angie had already met Lucy once before when I’d given her Lucy to play with, but I didn’t expect her to remember.

“Lucy is feeling sad because her old dress is all faded and she doesn’t have any other clothes to wear. Do you think you could find her a new dress to wear? Then maybe you would like to look after her for a little while. I think she would like that.”

Angie carefully took Lucy from me. Her fingers brushed lightly over Lucy’s face.

“She’s pretty.”

“Yes she is. Very pretty. And look, she’s already much happier because she’s got a new little girl to look after her.”

Angie smiled and hugged Lucy to her. I hugged Angie and gave her a little kiss on the cheek.

“Do you think Pearl and I could come with you to your bedroom? We’d both love to help you find a new dress for Lucy.”

“Ooh, yes. I’d love to help,” said Pearl with a big smile.

We all stood up and walked towards Angie’s room.

Mum was in the hallway heading towards her bedroom, carrying two big plastic garbage bags full of stuff. Dan was behind her with another two full bags. We did all the greetings. I was surprised to see Dan there as I thought he was still fast asleep.

When I asked Dan about it, he shrugged.

“I wish I were. After that phone call I made to Dad last night, Mum came and woke me up this morning so I could give them the full story.”

“You didn’t say good morning to me.”

“I looked in on you before, but you were drawing and Pearl let me know she was happy to stay with you, so I didn’t disturb you.”

Mum invited Pearl to stay for breakfast so Pearl explained that I’d already invited her and she was happy to accept. We explained to Mum about Lucy and finding her a new dress. Mum asked me to get Angie dressed while I was at it. Dan apologized to Pearl and explained that he had to finish helping Mum with something. He held up the bags as if to demonstrate but he didn’t say what they were doing. Pearl said that was okay and she was having fun helping Angie and me.

Mum looked at me with that little half-smile on her face and told me that she wanted to talk to me later. That half-smile was bad news. I was in trouble for something, but I wasn’t sure what. Then she walked off with her two big bags full of stuff followed by Dan with his two bags. That was a lot of stuff in bags, but I had no idea what it was.

We had to detour to the bathroom so that Angie could use the potty. Pearl sat on the edge of the tub and sat Lucy on her knee while I helped Angie. She was wearing pull-ups for the night and when I checked, they were only a tiny bit damp. I dropped them into the bucket that sat there for the used ones and helped Angie onto the toilet. Pearl’s panties that I had rinsed out and hung up in the bathroom were dry so she stayed in the bathroom to change when Angie and I were finished. I told Pearl to drop the ones of mine that she was wearing into the laundry hamper.

In Angie’s room, I asked her what she wanted to wear for the day.

“Shoes!”

“Well, shoes are a good start, but I think you should wear something else as well.”

“Uh, ah! Shoes!” Angie then wriggled out of her nightie, scrunched it up under her pillow and plopped herself down on the bed – naked but for her bright purple shoes.

“All done!”

I hunted in her sock drawer and found some nice pink socks.

“How about some pretty pink socks to go with your shoes?”

Angie eyed me suspiciously as if suspecting a trick.

“We have to take your shoes off anyway, because this shoe is supposed to be on that foot.” I was tapping her feet with my hand as I spoke to emphasize the idea that she needed to swap her shoes over. No wonder she’d sounded so noisy running up the hallway before. Her shoes were on the wrong feet.

Angie looked like she wanted to argue but eventually let me slip her shoes off and slide the socks onto her feet. She immediately jumped off the bed and put her shoes back on – checking with me that she had them the right way around.

Pearl joined us in Angie’s room just as I was laying out a selection of four different pairs of panties. Angie was refusing to choose.

“Come on Angie, which ones do you want to wear? If you don’t choose, I’ll put all four of them onto you, that would be weird wouldn’t it?”

Okay! That was a stupid thing to say. Angie decided she wanted to do that. So with a little help from me, she pulled all four pairs of panties on, one after the other. I managed it a bit so that the top ones were a purple pair that more-or-less matched the shoes. Angie giggled and went to admire herself in the mirror. It looked a bit like she was wearing panties over a diaper. I looked at Pearl and shrugged. She answered with a wry grin. Oh, well! At least Angie was a bit more dressed than she had been, even if it was unusual.

I found a pale pink undershirt and sneaking up behind her, slid it down over her head while she was still busy admiring herself in the mirror. She fussed a bit about that but not too much. I was making good progress.

I went to the closet to see what else I could get her to wear. I doubted I was going to get her shoes off again, no matter how briefly, so pants were out. I found two dresses that matched the shoes. One was a full length cream-colored dress covered with little pink and purple flowers. The other was a lilac-colored jumper dress with a bib front that would need a shirt underneath it.

I held up both for Angie to see and asked her which one she wanted to wear. She looked back and forth between the two with a serious expression on her face. Finally, she announced “Both!” with that definite tone of voice that meant no argument would be allowed.

I shrugged. It might look a bit odd, but Mum had asked me to dress her and this was getting her dressed so I wasn’t about to complain. I helped Angie into the full length flowery dress first and did up the buttons for her. Then she wriggled into the jumper dress and I did up the straps that held the bib in place. It actually worked. The jumper dress looked like an apron over the top of the other one. All the colors matched nicely too.

Pearl clapped her hands. “This little girl has style. The layered look is definitely in.”

I fetched the box full of doll’s clothes from Angie’s closet and put it on the bed.

“Now! How about you and Pearl look for a dress for Lucy, while I brush your hair?”

The next little while was a very pleasant time. Angie and Pearl had a lot of fun picking out possible dresses for Lucy. Pearl had to help with the little fasteners and seemed to be having as much fun as Angie. I stood behind Angie and listened to the chatter with a smile on my face, while I brushed her hair.

Brushing hair is such a calming thing to do. Once you’ve gotten started and got rid of all the tangles, then it’s a matter of setting up a rhythm and keep going. You’re supposed to do a hundred brush strokes, but I don’t count anymore. I keep going until it’s time to stop. One time I brushed Liz’s hair for her like that and when I stopped, she said “Exactly one hundred strokes. I was counting to see if you did it right!” That was a surprise, I hadn’t been counting. I brushed until it was time to stop.

Pearl and Angie had picked out a nice pale-green dress for Lucy, with little bits of lace around the neck and arms. She looked so pretty like that, with her new dress on. I watched Angie play with her and hug her and felt a twinge of sadness. Lucy wasn’t mine anymore. I was going to be a teenager, and teenagers are too old for dolls. I felt a bit good though, because Angie was clearly already in love with her and she would look after Lucy much better than I had been. It was nice to do something that made Angie happy. Maybe Angie would ask me to play with her and her dolls sometimes. That would be okay. Teenagers are allowed to play with their little sisters sometimes, aren’t they?

The three of us headed back to the living room. Dan was sitting on the couch reading the sports pages of the newspaper. He looked up and smiled broadly when we came into the room. Angie ran across the room and jumped – landing on his lap for a hug. After a friendly little hug, she swivelled on his lap and used the remote to turn the TV on. Then she started telling Pearl all about the cartoon that was playing. Pearl sat on the couch next to Dan and cuddled up to him while she listened carefully to Angie’s description.

I’d trailed after them into the living room, lost in my own little world. I sat down on the floor beside the coffee table. We had left my picture on it when we went to look after Angie. I picked it up and looked at it carefully. I wondered if there was anything more I needed to do to it. I wondered what had happened to that little girl in the picture with the pigtails flying in the wind and the little doll tucked under her arm. That little girl wasn’t me any more.

Mum poked her head into the living room and saw me sitting on my own, while Dan and Pearl entertained Angie.

“Rebecca Louise, come into the kitchen and sit with me.”

I gulped and followed Mum into the kitchen, my picture trailing from one hand.

Mum sat herself down in her usual chair and I took the Chair of Doom – which was my normal chair around the corner of the table from her – but right then, it felt like the Chair of Doom.

“What’s that honey?”

“It’s a picture I drew this morning. I woke up early and felt like drawing.”

“I’ll take a look at it later and we’ll talk about it then. Okay?”

She gestured to me to pass the picture to her. I did so and she hardly glanced at it before positioning it on the table in front of her. She stared straight at me and I felt like I was trapped in her unforgiving gaze.

“Your father and I were very disappointed to hear that...” Her voice trailed off because she’d looked down at the picture in front of her.

“You drew this, honey?” I nodded.

“It looks lovely! I’ll look at it properly later. Now where was I? Oh, yes!” The gaze came back. “Your father and I are sure you didn’t mean to...” She looked down again.

“Oh!” she breathed. Now she was looking at the picture carefully, taking in all the details.

“Oh, honey,” she whispered. “This is so beautiful!”

She sat looking down at the picture. I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say, so I sat and watched her. After a moment, she seemed to remember what she was doing and took a deep breath. She looked up at me, the iron lady once more in control.

“We’re sure you didn’t mean to...”

I sat there and watched in amazement as tears trickled silently down her cheeks and dissolved her iron face. She looked down at the picture, then up at me. Her face had an expression on it that I don’t think I’d seen before. It was soft and raw and ... I don’t know how to describe it. Maybe one day I’ll draw it and get someone to tell me what they see.

“Is this really what you see?” Her voice was quiet, almost pleading.

I nodded again, blinking back my own tears. I don’t know why I felt like crying. It was, as if seeing Mum cry meant that I had to cry with her.

There was the sudden scrape of a pushed-back chair. A quick rush around the table, and I was wrapped up and squeezed tightly in a motherly hug. Or maybe it wasn’t so motherly – usually motherly hugs involve her trying to soothe me because I’m upset, or her telling me that she loved me, or ... so, maybe it was a motherly hug.

Breathing was starting to become a real concern for me. I was released as suddenly as I’d been grabbed. Mum stepped back and picked the picture up from the table. She held it before her like it was some long-lost masterpiece by one of those famous European painters.

“Peter would like to see this. Can I show it to him, honey?”

I nodded, not really trusting myself to speak. Seeing Mum so moved had touched off some strange, unknown emotions deep inside me.

Mum headed for the door, then stopped and turned back to face me, her cheeks still glistening with tears.

“Just don’t do it again, okay honey?” and she was gone.

I sat in my place and blinked in confusion as I tried to work out what had just happened. I knew I was in trouble but I wasn’t sure what for. It left me feeling guilty without actually knowing what I’d done wrong.

Okay, I knew I’d done things wrong. My mind immediately started making a list. Top of my list was punching that quarterback on the nose – I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have made out with Lance on the bus. I shouldn’t have gone back into that house at the party. I shouldn’t have kept quiet about Tara going to that party in the first place. I shouldn’t have stayed in the dressing room and peeked at the boys getting changed. I shouldn’t have run around all evening without any underwear. I shouldn’t have hit Dan the way I did. I shouldn’t have snuck into Dan’s bedroom in the middle of the night. I definitely shouldn’t have hid in my parents’ room last night and watched them ... The list of things I shouldn’t have done was way too long.

I wondered which of them had disappointed Mum and Dad when they found out about it. I wondered which of them I had promised not to do again. I sighed quietly to myself. Sometimes being Bec Freeman is too confusing for words.

I dropped into an armchair with a big sigh. Dan looked over at me and nodded. Pearl looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Sometimes Mum is weird,” I said.

Pearl didn’t know Mum well enough to understand what that could mean. Dan thought he understood, but I think he was assuming I’d just sat through one of Mum’s lectures. I wouldn’t mind betting he knew it was going to happen too. Maybe I should ask him what it was I’d done wrong. I looked at him sitting there with Pearl cuddled up next to him and Angie curled up on his lap and decided I would wait until later.

“Did she like your picture?” Pearl wanted to know.

“Yes! I think so. But that only made her weirder.”

“Do you mean the picture you were drawing this morning?” asked Dan. “I’d love to see it.”

I shrugged. “Mum has it. She’s showing it to Dad.”

I sighed quietly to myself. “I’m going to get dressed. Breakfast will probably be about half an hour or so.”

I picked out some clothes to wear – some loose jeans, a t-shirt and a loose jersey – and I locked myself in the bathroom for a quick shower.

I was sitting at my dresser, brushing my hair, when there was a knock on my door. It was Dad. He stood in the doorway and looked at me.

“I love your picture, Bec. It’s really sweet.”

“Thanks Dad.” I smiled at him and looked down at my brush.

“It really touched your mother too. It’s a very special drawing.”

I looked up to thank him again, but he was gone.

“Thanks Dad,” I whispered to the empty doorway.

Angie was on her own in the living room, glued to the TV where animated shapes leapt around and sang silly songs. Dan and Pearl had disappeared. I guess they must have gone back to Dan’s room.

In the kitchen, I saw that Mum had taken out some ready-to-cook sausages and we had a stock of eggs. I felt inspired to bake some bran muffins. Checking the time, it would only delay breakfast by a few minutes if I started straight away.

Tara and I often make bran muffins on Saturday morning – especially in the colder months. They’re quick and fun to make and they taste really good, especially if you throw in some cinnamon and a dash of vanilla essence. (I just looked at the bottle and remembered that it’s called vanilla extract over here – Mum taught me to cook and she always calls it vanilla essence). It didn’t take too long to get the mixture together and grease up the muffin tray. Mum arrived in the kitchen as I was sliding the raw muffins into the oven. I set the timer for 20 minutes and started cleaning up my mess and setting the table.

In the meantime, Mum was getting the sausages under the griller and getting the eggs all broken open and beaten ready to scramble. Mom wasn’t very talkative. I figured that wasn’t a good sign for a nice relaxed breakfast. She was winding herself up to rip into Tara for going to that party. I only hoped she didn’t go over the top and embarrass us in front of Pearl.

When it was time, I started toasting slices of bread and Mum got the scrambled eggs going. Then she left me in charge of the cooking while she went in to wake up Tara. By now the smell of grilled sausages and baking muffins had summoned Dad into the kitchen. It’s like a magic spell. You cook something like muffins and the family magically appears. Some of them show up faster than others. It wasn’t until I took the tray of muffins out of the oven and set them to cool that Dan and Pearl appeared. Mum came back into the kitchen and stirred the eggs a couple of times.

Tara came into the kitchen, looking half-asleep, with a blanket wrapped around her.

“Where’s my clothes?”

“All the clothes you need are in your closet,” said Mum, with a no-nonsense no-arguments sort of voice. “Go and get dressed for breakfast. We’re all sitting here waiting for you.”

Tara blinked a couple of times, then turned and trailed back out of the kitchen.

“Go with her, Bec, and help her get sorted. She’s obviously still half asleep.” Mum was talking to me with that light, casual tone that suggested that if I didn’t do exactly what she said, I’d be eating nothing but bread and water for a week.

Naturally, I went after Tara. No arguments from me.

In Tara’s room, I helpfully went to her closet and opened it only to discover that it was completely empty. Well, almost completely empty. There was a single hanger, from which dangled the very brief skirt and top Tara had been wearing last night. I opened up all of the drawers, one after another to find them all totally empty except for a single pair of skimpy panties. They weren’t like a g-string or anything – but they were fairly brief.

I held up the panties, skirt and top for Tara. “I think Mum is trying to suggest that you wear these.”

At least now I knew what had been in those big garbage bags Mum and Dan had been carrying around the house earlier.

She looked at the outfit with a mixture of horror and worry. “I can’t go to breakfast wearing that stuff!”

I shrugged. “I don’t think you have much choice. Mum won’t let you have breakfast wearing a blanket, and Dad won’t let you have breakfast in your nightie.”

I pulled the blanket off her and discovered she was naked underneath the blanket. “What happened to your nightie?”

“I don’t know! I figured I must have gone to sleep naked.” Tara still wasn’t properly awake.

“You didn’t! I helped you into a nightie last night. Mom must have stripped it off you at the same time she emptied out your closet. It amazes me what you will sleep through. Well, I guess you really have no choice now. Come on, step into these.”

I helped her step into the panties and let her pull them up while I lined up the skirt.

“Can’t I borrow something from you? A long skirt? Sweatpants? Anything?” she pleaded.

“Like that’s going to happen. Mum’s obviously decided you’re wearing this. If I lend you anything, I’ll probably end up with no clothes too. Now step into the skirt.”

We quickly had the skirt positioned and stretched out to be as long as it could – which wasn’t very long – it’s a VERY short skirt. Tara was just tugging the top into place when Mum appeared at the door.

“What’s taking you two so long? Everyone is waiting and the food is getting cold. Bec, get back into the kitchen. Come on, Tara! MOVE IT!!”

I scampered out of the room. As I did, I heard Tara complaining to Mum.

“Do I have to wear this?”

“What’s wrong with it? Apparently it was okay to wear to a party – why wouldn’t it be suitable to wear to breakfast?”

I don’t think Tara made any reply to that. I mean, what could you say?

For once Mum hadn’t been exaggerating. Everyone else was sitting around the table, waiting for us. I slid into my seat and took a moment to notice that Angie had brought in her little doll’s highchair and sat Lucy in it. The other side of the table was quite crowded with Angie, Lucy, Pearl and Dan.

My side of the table would be Tara and me. That was unfortunate because I would be right in the firing line between Mum and Tara. My chances of getting through breakfast without getting slammed were virtually zero. I was going to be ... what’s that word they use on TV when they talk about people getting hurt during a war? Is it cholera damage or something? (I looked it up – it’s collateral damage. I was going to be collateral damage!) I wondered if maybe I could squeeze myself over onto the other side of the table next to Angie and Lucy. Perhaps not!

Mum pushed Tara into the room and sat down in her usual chair. Tara stood for a moment – uncertain and embarrassed. She had one arm across her chest and the other across her stomach in a futile attempt to cover up at least some of her bare skin. Dad scowled at Tara as she slunk her way around the table and into her seat next to me.

“Can someone tell me why my eldest daughter is coming to breakfast dressed like a ... a ... dressed like that?”

“It’s quite simple, dear,” put in Mum with her deadly half-smile pasted onto her face. “Tara has decided that the clothes we allow her to have are far too boring. Apparently, she would much rather wear something like this!”

One time in English class, Mrs Stone was explaining sarcasm. I understood the idea immediately. After all, if there was an event in the Olympics for sarcasm, then Mum would win the gold medal.

Mum passed the plates of sausages and egg around. She’d poached an egg for Pearl because Pearl is lactose intolerant and Mom figured she couldn’t have scrambled eggs with the milk in it. I had to ask if she could have a bran muffin because it was made with milk but Pearl assured me that she was usually fine with baked things like cakes.

When the plate of muffins came around I took one for myself and popped one onto Tara’s plate as well. I was used to dishing up breakfast for Tara because normally she was still mostly asleep at this time of the day. Today she was fully awake, but she had her head down as if she was trying to disappear into a hole in the floor.

I was hoping the little exchange between Mum and Dad when Tara came in was over and we could relax and enjoy our breakfast but apparently Dad wasn’t finished.

“Did anyone explain to Tara that her outfit was downright inappropriate?” said Dad.

“Don’t be silly, dear,” said Mum in a light and breezy tone. “I’m sure that if we were to ask her, Tara would tell us to stop living in the last century and that everyone is wearing things like that these days.”

My stomach was getting all tight and knotted up. To anyone else, it would’ve sounded like Mum and Dad were simply chatting. All the tension was hidden under the surface. It was like the conversation was a calm lake but under the water was this huge monster with waving tentacles – waiting to drag you down and bite you with its razor-sharp teeth. I hated it!

I sat there trying to do my own version of stony face.

“Really? Everyone? I’m surprised. I was at a football game last night amongst a whole lot of people. I’m sure I would’ve noticed if everyone were dressed like that. Even the cheerleaders were wearing more than she is.”

“Peter Henry Freeman,” said Mum with a stern look on her face. “What were you doing looking at the cheerleaders? Am I not pretty enough for you anymore?”

Dad spluttered for a moment, then realized that Mum was teasing him. He sat up a bit straighter and spoke with quiet dignity. “It was a game of American Football. You’re expected to look at the cheerleaders at such an event. That’s why they’re there. They lead the cheers. How else would anybody know when they were supposed to cheer?”

“And I suppose it didn’t hurt that they are all healthy young women and were wearing very short skirts?” asked Mum with a grin – this time a genuine grin.

“It didn’t hurt at all!” They shared a look – one of those looks that people share where they tell each other important stuff with their eyes.

Fortunately, that was the end of the Mum-and-Dad show for a while. The rest of us had been silent spectators during all of that – which of course is what we were supposed to be. The main target of the conversation had spent the entire time staring down at the table with her hair falling down like a curtain to hide her face.

Mum diverted the conversation to the football game and asked Dan about his touchdown. She then involved Pearl and Dad and me as well as Dan in a discussion of the game. Slowly the tight feeling in my stomach went away. Well it went away enough for me to eat a bit anyway.

Mum asked me questions about the football game and somehow I found my voice so that I could answer her. I had to tell the story of helping the Wide Receiver who’d broken his arm and then the fake touchdown I was involved with during half time. I was a bit relieved that nobody mentioned me giving lucky kisses. I had no doubt that Mum would hear about it – if she hadn’t done so already – but I didn’t want to talk about it over breakfast.

Nobody spoke to Tara and the only time she was mentioned was one time when Mum said, “I’m sure if we were to ask her, that Tara would say she’s sorry she missed such an exciting night. I know I’m sorry I missed it.”

Dad asked what everyone was planning on doing for the rest of the day. Dan had to work and he was going to take Pearl back to her apartment first. Mum said she had some shopping to do. I explained that I was going over to Liz’s place after lunch and then we were going to the mall to watch the new Pixar animation movie at the multiplex. After that we would get a lift back home with Dan when he finished work.

Mum told us that Tara had volunteered to strip all the beds and wash the sheets. I suspect that was the first time Tara knew anything about that. Mum then told us that once that was done Tara would be doing the vacuuming and then helping Mum tidy up the house ready for the family party tomorrow. Dad had to mow the lawns and wash the living room windows – outside and in. I think he was hoping to finish in time to sit down and watch some sports on TV but I didn’t like his chances of getting to do that without interruptions.

I’d noticed that Mum was doing a lot of talking for Tara. I wondered if Mum had told her she wasn’t allowed to speak, or if Mum was just being ... well, Mum!