I've just returned from the housewarming party, if you could call it that. Jesus, where do I begin with this? The experience was almost surreal. I'm used to my mother's insanity, but this... this is practically unprecedented.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I suppose the best thing to do is to begin at the beginning, go on until I get to the end, and then stop. (If you understand that reference, congratulations.)
We arrived around five-thirty. We were the only people to arrive. No one else had been invited. It was a housewarming party of six. I had resisted my mother's attempts to persuade me to wear a dress and was instead wearing a jacket and dress slacks. I had expected that, being former Manhattanites, the family would expect clothing to be business casual. Not so! We were greeted at the door by the man of the house, who was wearing a band T-shirt (he's apparently a fan of Coldplay) and what I'm fairly certain were actually pajama pants. For a second, I took him to be the older brother of my future babysittee rather than her father. On closer inspection, he wasn't terribly young; just boyish, with wide eyes and scruffy blond hair. The laugh lines about his eyes and the faint stubble on his chin did little to make him look older. I guessed him to be in his mid-thirties.
"Oh, sorry," he said, looking down at himself in embarrassment. "Thought you guys were coming over later. Donna? Donna, honey, they're here!"
They're here. I started to get the sinking feeling that we were the only ones that had been invited.
Donna, thankfully not wearing pajamas like her husband, came downstairs. She's surprisingly good-looking; I'm half-convinced I had a childhood crush on her. (We had met on a few occasions; Donna and my mother belonged to the same circle of friends.) She's quite tall, very slender, dark-haired, elegant. The sort of person often compared to various celebrities.
Various friendly greetings were exchanged and it became clear that my mother had decided it best to have us arrive a full hour in advance "to help with the cooking". I don't have words to do justice to that nonsense. Nonetheless, I smiled and acted polite. No need to ruin the evening further.
"I wonder where Luna is," Donna said to me. "I haven't seen her since lunch. I told her to hang around so she could meet you, hopefully she hasn't gone too far..."
Splendid. Free-range parenting. Letting your twelve-year-old who you believe needs a babysitter wander off on her own without any means of communicating with her — great.
We had by this point moved to the living room. I should say a few words on the house — it's lovely. A Victorian. But it's badly in need of repairs. The paint outside is peeling. The floorboards creak, and I'm still picking splinters out of my socks. The porch has nearly fallen off the house. The entire building is drafty and sagging. So far as haunted houses go, I would say that this is the prime candidate in the area. If ghosts are anything like they're depicted in fiction, this is the sort of place where they'd feel right at home.
Donna got up and pulled the curtains aside, peering out. "Luna might be out by the pond," she told me. "She's been over there a lot lately. I keep telling her to be careful, she might fall in, and she isn't a very good swimmer..."
"I could go see if she's there," I offered.
Donna's face brightened noticeably. "That would be lovely, Jackie. Thank you." Her expression faltered. "I guess I'd better go too, though. Come on."
We headed outside.
Donna and co.'s house is near the end of a dead-end. Their old house would have been at the very end. Between their new house and the old one is a large pond, the surface streaked with algae, and a scattering of trees. At the far end of the pond is a weeping willow.
Donna must have spotted Luna before I did, because as we neared the far end of the pond she broke into an awkward run, nearly stumbling several times. I followed — luckily, I hadn't worn a dress or heels like Donna.
"Luna!" Donna yelled as we approached the willow tree. "Luna, get down from there!" She glanced at me before continuing, more quietly this time. "Luna, you shouldn't be up there. You might fall."
It took me a second to notice Luna. She was lying stomach-down on one of the tree's lower branches, which stretched out over the pond. The foliage hid her partly from view. She was also dressed in greens and blues, which didn't help.
"I'm fine, Mom," Luna said, sitting up. "I'm not going to fall. Also, it's shallow here. I wouldn't drown."
She doesn't look like I had imagined her to. For whatever reason, I had pictured her as her mother in miniature; tall and bony, with big dark eyes and long brown hair. Instead, Luna is blonde, definitely not tall or bony, and her eyes, though big, are gray.
"I just want you to be careful," Donna said. "Don't climb out over the water like that unless someone's watching you." She paused. "Do you need a hand getting down?"
"No." Luna clambered down from the tree slowly, dropping the last few inches to the ground near the edge of the pond.
Up close, she looks even less like her mother. She stops short of being pudgy, but looks at least like she's been eating healthily. Maybe it's baby fat, as she looks younger than twelve and could maybe even pass for nine. Her hair is very long and thick and hangs halfway down her back. Her eyes are ridiculously large; any bigger and I'd take her for an anime character.
"Luna, this is Jackie," Donna said, introducing us.
"I prefer Jack," I said, "but hi."
"Sorry," Donna whispered to me as she retreated a few steps, leaving me with Luna.
Luna didn't say anything for a while, just surveyed me blandly with those big gray eyes. Finally, she looked directly at me. "Hi."
Weird kid. I turned to look at Donna and saw her headed back towards the house. She turned, saw me, and waved. I turned back to Luna, who was twirling a piece of her hair around her finger.
"Should we go back inside?"
"Maybe," Luna said disinterestedly. She looked straight at me suddenly. "Do you like that house?"
"Uh," I said, taken aback, "it's nice."
"No, it's not," Luna told me, shaking her head. "But it's okay. How old are you, Jackie?"
"I'm Jack," I corrected, "and I'm fifteen."
"You're not Jack," she told me. "Jack is a boy's name. You're not a boy."
Oh brother. "My parents named me Patricia Jacqueline," I told her, careful not to say anything like My real name is or I'm actually named, "but I go by Jack."
"Short for Jacqueline?"
"No, short for Patricia." I almost rolled my eyes, then stopped and grinned at her instead. She grinned back. Good, at least she understands sarcasm. Either that or she can copy basic facial expressions.
We started to head back towards the house. I'm not sure why, looking back. Neither of us said anything about it; we just started walking. Luna looked down at her feet for most of the way. She was barefoot; kinda weird for a former city kid, even if she'd only lived there a year.
The adults were making small talk in the living room and eating cheese and crackers. Luna took one look at the scene, made a disinterested face, and grabbed my arm. "Come on, Jack."
"Where are we going?" I asked as she dragged me towards the staircase.
"Upstairs. My room. Come on."
"Jackie!" my mother called to me. "Stay down here with us." She smiled threateningly at me and I knew there would be strong words had if I didn't comply.
"Sorry," I said to Luna, pulling away. "I have to go sit with them."
"It's okay," Luna said. "I'll see you at dinner." She ran upstairs.
The small talk lasted longer than felt necessary, as is usually the case. I was rarely included in the conversation, and spent most of the time staring at the pattern on the wallpaper. Donna kept disappearing to check on the food. Finally, she called us in for dinner. We were all seated before Luna joined us, sitting between her parents. Her dad ruffled her hair affectionately, but awkwardly, as if he wasn't used to it.
After dinner — which was quite good, but I won't waste time describing it — Luna disappeared back up to her room, and the adults suddenly turned their attention to me.
"What do you think of Luna?" Donna asked me. The others all turned towards me expectantly. I felt as though I was on a confession cam.
"She seems nice," I answered lamely, unsure what else to say.
Donna visibly relaxed. "Good. I'm glad."
"So you want me to babysit her?" I asked, thinking I had a sense of where the conversation was headed.
"No, no," Donna said quickly, shaking her head. "I think Luna would feel she's too old for that."
"You're probably right," my dad said. "Some twelve-year-olds are babysitting for other children already."
I looked at my mother in confusion. "Was there a miscommunication? I thought I was being asked to babysit Luna."
"Well..." my mother said, hesitating, "I wasn't sure how to explain it to you. But Donna and Matt need someone to keep Luna company, and they're willing to pay you for your services." She smiled brightly at me as if that cleared everything up.
"So I'm a friend-for-hire?"
Luna's parents and my mother exchanged glances. My dad looked as baffled as I did, but didn't say anything.
"Look," Donna began carefully, "Luna's a very private person, and her father and I feel we have trouble connecting with her. She has trouble making friends and I worry that she's lonely. Your mother tells me you're a very smart kid. I think Luna needs a big-sister figure in her life — someone who can be a role model, but whom she can talk to like a friend as well."
I started to protest. "But—"
"I know she's just a little kid to you," Donna continued, "but I think the two of you could get along very well. She may be only twelve, but she's precocious."
The way she said "precocious" startled me. The undertone was not and-we're-so-proud-of-her; it was and-we-hope-she'll-grow-out-of-it. I was silent.
"We're a little tight on money right now, but we'll do our best to compensate you for your lost time. Hopefully you'll enjoy her company without that, anyway." Donna smiled nervously at me. "And please don't tell her you're being paid. I don't want her to feel bad about it. Does that sound okay?"
They all stared at me, waiting for an answer.
No. No, of course it's not okay. No, of course I'm not going to get surreptitiously paid for hanging out with a twelve-year-old in my free time. This is all kinds of crazy, bizzare, morally wrong behavior. Why would I get involved in that kind of scheme?
But I couldn't refuse. Refusing would mean starting another fight with my mother, something I've managed to avoid for the past three years.
"Sure," I said. "That sounds fine."
Donna and her husband both relaxed. My mother beamed at me.
"Thanks," Donna's husband told me, grinning awkwardly. "Means a lot to us."
"We can meet tomorrow to work out a schedule," Donna told me. "Do you want to get lunch at the café on Elm Street and we can talk it over?"
I nodded, smiling mechanically.
Dessert was served. Luna came down from upstairs and ate her slice of cheesecake contentedly, giving me a half-smile from across the table. I tried to eat my own cheesecake and found I'd lost my appetite.
I've got to stop writing now. It's getting late and I'm exhausted. I'll think about this in the morning. Right now, I need to just go to sleep and see if I figure anything out while unconscious.
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