LJ – ch. 2

Chapter 2:  Packing Up

3/24

“In class today, could have just been my imagination, but I was almost positive that he was looking at me when he was reading that love poem.  Yeah, it’s nuts, I know, but I really felt his eyes on me.”

 

It was the first spring weekend, which was the reason for Jane and her friends to have a party in the park that weekend.  Parties were almost every weekend, but this week’s reason was spring.  Some weekends the reason was that the Flyers had won, some weekends because the Sixers had won, and some weekends because they had lost.  There would always be a party as long as there was a reason, and a reason was only as far away as the first person to think of one.  On this spring morning, the sun wasn’t far away either, and it pierced Jane’s eyes as she stepped into the kitchen in someone else’s t-shirt and a different someone else’s boxers.

Mom was too busy thinking of what to say, if anything, about the previous night/morning arrival and was not able to put together the idea that Jane’s morning attire had been items left behind by boys who had secretly spent the night in Jane’s room over the past year or so.  Several times Patti began to open her mouth, only to close it again.  She created various excuses in split seconds on why she shouldn’t yet try to reprimand her daughter.  “Not in front of Tyler.  Wait until she’s more awake because she won’t understand anyway until she detoxifies.  Maybe she’ll apologize.  At least she came home alone.  Maybe she learned her lesson this time.”  Just as there was always a reason to have a party, there was always a reason for Patti to avoid standing up to Jane’s behavior.  Jane inched into her chair facing the window so the sun that still sat low in the Philadelphia sky on March mornings could pierce her eyes even more.  Tyler did not stay quiet long.

“Mom, Jane has a hangover,” said the proud red-haired boy with as many freckles as his mother had worries.  Tyler’s appearance, which was as much Irish as his mother’s, was another reason that Jane felt left out in her family.  So many Irish redheads surrounding her always straight, always dark, always long hair and olive skin made her feel like an Italian at a Saint Patrick’s Day party.

“Finish your pancakes,” said Patti while Jane tried to stay quiet.

“We learned about it in health class this year,” he added.

“Did you learn that my fist will hurt you, or do I need to teach you that again?” mumbled Jane.  She did not like being ratted out by a little brother and threatened him regularly.  Some relatives suggested, behind Patti’s back, that if he weren’t a stepbrother then maybe Jane would get along with him better.  But Patti would dismiss it as garbage gossip when those comments would get back to her.

“Both of you finish eating.  Please.  We have a lot of packing to do today,” ordered their mother with as much assertion as a homeless woman asking for a spare change from New Jersey commuters stuck at the first red light off the Ben Franklin Bridge.

Jane had just lifted a fork when her mother’s reminder caused her to put it back down with no happiness.  She was not looking forward to Packing Day.  This was the only house, the only home she’d ever lived in.  This was the only neighborhood that she had ever run through.  Playing “Jailbreak” in grade school, skateboarding with cousins John and Michael, watching Trisha be the first of her friends to kiss a boy, fighting with Nicole’s drunken mother after she came home crying because they teased her for stuffing her bra at the 8^th grade graduation party.  Decatur Street was where the funeral procession drove the day Grandpa Hank was buried.  Jane didn’t want to move, didn’t want to leave her life, and didn’t accept or understand her mother’s reasons no matter how many times she heard them.

Tyler didn’t mind moving.  He was not the toughest kid on Decatur Street.  Dominic was, two doors down and two fists for anyone who disagreed with him.  Tyler also didn’t mind leaving because of the old man who gave him the creeps a few doors up the other way.  He never spoke, never waved, never opened his door on Halloween, never did anything other than get his mail and his newspaper in an old flannel robe.  When Dominic wanted to play Army, Tyler wanted to carefully choreograph the attacks and deaths of each boy who would be shot.  Dominic just wanted to kill people without blocking the scene.  When Tyler would play video games with Dominic, it would only be games involving shooting, killing, beating up, and killing some more.  Tyler wanted to play games with flying dinosaurs and marshmallow-looking characters that grabbed coins and ran from a spiny turtle.  Packing and moving days would be fine with Tyler and Patti.  Jane was on the other side of the fence.

“Finish your breakfast,” Patti repeated.  “We’ve got one week left in this house.  You’ve got today to pack up whatever you don’t need this week because we’re bringing as much as we can to the new house tonight.”  Jane picked up the fork again with attitude and stuffed some pancakes in her face, then smacked the fork on the table again.  “You don’t have to like it, but that’s life.  Sometimes we have to do things we don’t like.”

“Like living with you?” mumbled Jane.  Tyler looked silently at his mother, finishing his pancakes and waiting to hear what might get thrown back at Jane.  Just as some of Jane’s teachers at Lincoln High School would pretend not to hear or notice when Jane or her friends were disrupting the class or passing items that should not be in school, Patti would also pretend not to hear certain comments that her daughter would sneak at her.  Tyler waited, but his mother’s only response was to clear the butter, syrup, and unused silverware from the table.  Items were slammed into place with the angry energy that should have been directed at the disrespectful daughter, but Patti would instead walk from the kitchen creating a reason for not doing so.  Before stepping into the living room she weakly toss out, “You better watch your mouth, young lady.”  It was meaningless to Jane because she knew that nothing more ever happened beyond that quote.  Her mother would always say something like that when she didn’t know what else to say.  She’d say it when leaving the room because she was embarrassed, had no control, and hoped her daughter would think, “Oh no.  I’ve hurt my mother.  I feel so horrible that I will now straighten myself out.  I might even be moved to apologize.”  Not a likely event.

 

Patti was stuffing winter clothes into large wine boxes from a boulevard liquor store when Jane drifted to her room and sat in a clump on the bed.  Patti felt a brief flicker where she thought Jane might apologize for mouthing off at breakfast, but it was not at all a serious thought.  All she could do was avoid looking at her daughter, forcefully open and close drawers of clothing, and use a sharp push to cram the sweatshirts and thick socks into the box marked “Patti – winter clothes.”  Jane suffered yet another silent lecture from her mother.

“Why do we have to move?” asked Jane, sounding her best like a child who needed sympathy instead of a defiant teenager whose blood-alcohol level would still challenge a breathalyzer.  Her mother didn’t answer, Jane was not getting attention, so she slid off the bed and thumped her ass to the floor.  Another way of her saying, “LOOK AT ME NOW!”  She whined a bit because she knew her mother, as usual, would give in first.

“We can’t afford living in the city.  I’m tired of my car being scratched or broken into.  I’m tired of my son getting beat up by kids who pretend to be his friends.  Your school is full of guns and drugs and who knows what else.  There’s a park up the street that has more beer cans than trees, and I’m not sure how much of that you’re responsible for.  There is nothing good here at all.”

Jane listened to nothing and just waited for her mother to stop speaking.  “But I don’t want to move.  All my friends are here.  My whole life is here, and I want to stay.”

Mom moved around the bed and sat on the floor in front of her daughter.  “Do you think I want to move?  This was my house too, and the only neighborhood I’ve ever lived in my whole life.  When I married your father, we -”

“Step-father.  You didn’t marry my father,” Jane interrupted.

“Yes, I know, sorry.  Anyway, your grandfather let us move in, and he moved out of the city.  I’ve never lived anywhere else, and I’ve got ten times as many memories in this house as you do.  We wouldn’t be leaving unless I was sure it was the best thing to do.  I talked to Uncle Sean and Aunt Veronica and everyone else who has a brain, and they all agreed that it’s a good idea to sell the house and move.”  Mother shifted next to Daughter and even sat shoulder-to-shoulder.  “If your step-father was still here, maybe things would be different.  Maybe we could stay here.”

“Maybe you should try getting out and dating more and you might meet a decent guy.  You brought home every loser in Philly.  Keep trying.  You met that one decent guy last year.  Why the hell didn’t you marry him when you had the chance?”

“Oh stop it.  That’s nothing I want to talk about now.  Maybe some other day.”

“Well everyone else said you shoulda married the guy.  Aunt Ronnie wanted to slap you for saying no when he asked you.  What was the problem?”

Mom huffed.  “I found a nice house on a nice street in a nice town with nice schools.  I don’t think any student from Lincoln High School ever went to college unless they were pushing a broom through a classroom or cleaning the parking lot.  If you have any chance of going to college, you have to get out of the city high school.  Your brother comes home with a bloody nose about once a week.  I’m tired of my car getting messed up.  I’m tired of the cars speeding down the street.  I’m tired of wondering if Mr. Greer up the street has the bodies of missing people in his basement.  And I’m tired of wondering where you are and what you’re doing and if you’re going to make it home okay.”

Jane sat quietly, enjoying for a moment that her mother actually cared about her.  The closeness was not comfortable, but most kids like to know that someone cares.  It doesn’t matter how tough, how nasty, how angry, how anything anyone is.  We all want to know that someone cares.  Still, there was resentment in her thoughts.  Was she moving us out of here because she thinks I’m going to behave the way she wants?  Jane could not allow her mother to feel that possibility.  She leaned away from her mother and started for her room.  “Nothing is gonna be any different no matter where we live.”  She turned and stood in her mother’s doorway.  “I’ll still be over here hanging out with my friends.”  Putting up one finger.  “I’ll still go where I want and do what I want.”  Two fingers and a head wiggle.  “I’ll walk across the bridge to Philly if I can’t get a ride.”  Three fingers.  “So don’t think I’m gonna suddenly become Mommy’s little angel just because we moved out of the big bad city.”  Four fingers.  Mother wanted to tell Daughter that such thoughts had never crossed her mind, but that would be a lie.  Jane added, “Maybe we’re leaving because you’ve dated every loser in town so you have to move on to a new state.”  With five fingers up, Daughter turned and walked away without wanting or waiting for the reply that was always needed but never came. 

All Patti could think to say was, “Maybe if you would get a job and didn’t take money from me every day, we might be able to stay around here a little longer!  All you do is spend my money on beer and them slutty clothes you’re always wearing when you go out every weekend!”  Mom couldn’t see that four of the fingers went back down and only one middle finger remained up.  Patti stayed on the floor and listened to the fading footsteps followed by the slamming door.  There would be quiet for another two minutes.  She stayed on the floor, eyes drifting around her room at the things that needed to be packed and those that didn’t and hoping that Tyler might come up and need a hug.  She definitely needed one.

 

The house would stay pretty much quiet the rest of the morning until lunch was ready.  Nobody was really very happy the rest of the morning.  Patti wasn’t happy because Jane was mad at her, so it was business as usual there.  Jane wasn’t happy because she felt as if she were being used as an excuse to move the family out of the city.  Tyler wasn’t happy because he had to figure out which toys he could do without for the next week.  He also had to pick out clothes for school, for after school, and pajamas for the rest of the week, and then pack up everything else in more wine boxes.

All of the boxes were liquor boxes.  Patti had learned the last time someone in the family had moved that liquor boxes were readily available at any given liquor store.  They were designed to hold big glass bottles filled with something, so they had to be very strong.  The only problem was you had to remove those cardboard dividers inside designed to keep the twelve bottles of wine from clanking into each other.  Tyler left the dividers in one of his boxes to keep his socks, underwear, and pajamas separate.  He went to the downstairs closet and found gloves and hats and scarves to keep in other sections.

He was a very neat and orderly child.  In school, his desk was always the most organized.  Mrs. Constantine would often comment, when other kids couldn’t find homework or pencils, “Well, if your desk was more like Tyler’s, you probably wouldn’t have this problem.”  Now, packing was more of a puzzle of how many things he could categorize and put into those little spaces.  Toys with wheels in one space.  Toys that fly in another.  Video games.  Before he knew it, he had packed more than he had planned and didn’t feel so bad about the whole thing.  Dominic would have just stuffed everything in one box, bounced it down the stairs, and yelled to his mother to pick it up.  Then he’d punch Tyler, because he could.

 

Lunch was quiet.  Grilled cheese all around, potato chips, iced tea.  No complaints, no arguments, no thrown crust.  The only sounds were chewing and plates and glasses making their way into the sink.  Patti broke the vocal silence.  “Uncle Mike will be here in a little while with his van.”  Her voice was on the somber side to avoid instigating any emotions in Jane after their morning confrontation.  “It’ll probably take us two or three trips this afternoon and tonight to get all the stuff over to the new house.  We’ll probably hit a drive-thru for dinner either on the way there or on the way back because I won’t have any time to make dinner.”  That would be no surprise to the kids, as Patti rarely seemed to have time to make dinner.  For some people, cooking was an art form or at least something they enjoyed doing.  For Patti, it was neither, and the kids were used to “Wendy’s Night, Pizza Night, Chinese Night” and other international events.

“Start bringing your boxes down from your rooms, and then we’ll bring everything out when the van gets here.”  They did.

Patti was a little confused as to why Jane was being more cooperative than expected.  The best reason she could think of was that there had been so much talk about moving, about looking at houses, going to a new school, leaving the city, but it wasn’t until today that they were actually doing something.  They packed boxes today.  It was actually going to happen, and Jane’s foot stomping, door slamming, and cursing were not going to change anything.

 

As Tyler brought his last box to the bottom of the stairs, he saw a well-tanned man cleaning his glasses.  “Hey, Butthead.  What’s up?” asked Uncle Mike.  Tyler reached up to slap the high-five that his uncle offered, but the hand would be pulled away before he could slap it.  “Nice try, cheeseball,” was laughed back at him.  Instead, his uncle caught his arm, grabbed the other by the wrist, and used his better-than-average strength to lift him high enough for a kiss on the forehead before dropping him to the floor.

Patti was carrying more boxes up from the basement and loudly asked, “Who’s jumping on my floor?”  She had a smile and a hug for her brother-in-law, and he had keys to his van in return.

“Do me a favor,” he said as he reached into his wallet, “fill it up with gas over in Jersey because it’s about twenty cents a gallon cheaper over there right now.  Stupid city taxes.  Gimmie your keys so I can take your car home, and then you can drop the van back at my place when you’re done.”  Patti handed Mike her car keys after removing the key for the new house.

As he expected, she snapped his wallet closed.  “I’m borrowing your van, so I’m paying for the gas, fool.”  He didn’t fight her, but family should always offer.  “Let’s go kids, boxes outside on the sidewalk.  You bring them out, and I’ll pack them in.”  And they did.  And they left.

 

Patti drove over the narrow Tacony Bridge with some of their life and moved south on Route 73 toward Maple Shade, a Philly suburb.  Tyler was noticing the fast food places that weren’t readily available in the city.  He had never seen White Castle, but it was a New York/New Jersey fixture.  “Can we go there for dinner?” he asked.  “We never ate there before.”  Patti reminded him that there was a lot of work to do before they could stop for dinner, but it was a possibility.

Jane sat quietly, didn’t speak at all, just kept her eyes on the highway so she would know how to get back on the other side of the bridge.  She looked for landmarks to give them directions for when they would come visit her.  It would take three trips over the bridge for Jane to think she had the directions down.  It would just be a matter of which friend could borrow a car.  She had never “borrowed” her mother’s car by definition because that would mean she would have asked permission.

 

“Cool,” remarked Tyler, “a driveway.”  They never had a driveway where they could actually park a car off the street.  Patti would no longer have to drive around the block to find a tiny space and spend six minutes weaseling the car back and forth, occasionally bumping the car in front or behind, finding notes on her windshield in the morning from complaining neighbors because she barely left them enough room to get out.

Patti, with one box under her left arm, quickly tried to get the key to the front door as a light rain was starting.  “Stupid April showers,” she grumbled.

Before she could open it, her very happy son ran up and asked, “Can I open it?  Let me do it.  Let me.”  It lifted her spirits to know that at least one of her children was happy about the move, so she gladly handed over the key.  “Jane, you can do it the next time,” he said with the idea that she was equally excited about the whole thing.

Tyler let them in and ran to find his room.  Patti found the thermostat and turned the heat up.  Jane ran not at all and wandered from room to room and through the basement because there was nothing to sit on except stairs, where she eventually parked her tired self.  Once she learned that sitting on the stairs was in the way of her mother and brother moving up and down them, she went up to her new room and sat on the floor against a wall.  She glanced around at what was her new personal space and thought the walls were a little unusual.  They were all black.  She had never seen a black room before, but she had remembered a party where there was a very dark room with phosphorescent paint and a black light to give it a very psychedelic look.  Jane thought about how much fun it might be to get high in such a room.  On the wall opposite her seat and near the windows was a double-door closet.  She opened the doors and found a spacious walk-in closet with bars on the left and right for everything needing a hanger.  It was the largest closet she had ever seen, easily four times as large as the closet she had back in Philly.  It was her only positive thought for the day, and it inspired her to go downstairs and bring up her stuff.

They spent the next forty-four minutes with trips to the van and back to put things in whichever room they were designated for.  Tyler’s room was the smallest, up the stairs and second room on the right.  Patti took the first room at the top of the stairs so that anyone going to or from their room would have to pass hers first.  She remembered the wood floors as she carried her boxes up to the room, the wood floors that would likely squeak when Jane crept home in the middle of the night.  She would be creeping to the second room on the left, after the bathroom and the only room facing the backyard, a feature of the house that Tyler was very happy about.

He had never had a backyard before.  His cousins Brianna and Luke outside the city in Warminster had a backyard.  Aunt Veronica and Uncle Sean let him play on the swings even in the rain last July 4^th because they knew how little room there was in the city for such things.  Although there were no swings in this yard, just grass fighting with weeds and one big maple tree, he at least had the yard to begin with.  The only swings back in Philly were deep into Pennypack Park, and he was not allowed to go there on his own, not even with the protection of Dominic.  There were bad things that had happened in some of the more secluded areas of that park that not even Dominic was able to stand up to.  That was partly why he was such an angry child.  There are some fights you lose, the blood dries, the bruises heal, and that’s the end of it.  There are other fights you lose, but they leave bruises that can’t be seen and scars that never go away.

 

It was dark and time to eat and get home after multiple trips of unpacking and surveying the house for what would go where.  Patti had to wake Tyler up to ask what he wanted at White Castle as they drove back toward the city.  He had never seen small square hamburgers before.  If he had realized they were fried in onions, he likely would have said ewww and opted for Burger King.  But he finished them before they could cross the bridge and drop off the van with many thanks.  Jane continued her silent strike, not talking or asking questions, only shrugging for answers.  Her only comment was that it had been very cold in the house, even with the heat on.  Patti blamed the abundant rain that had fallen over the past few weeks and would continue over a few more.