Tom hadn't taken Amy anywhere in a while; either, he'd been working or Anne had hogged her all to herself. He managed to get to his daughter before his wife could. There were only a couple of gifts left for Tom to get Victoria.
“I still have to get a couple of things for Victoria. One of which I'd like to ask you about.” Amy uttered.
Starting the Cadillac, Tom collected his thoughts. As they drove off Amy began asking her father for advice.
“I want to get Victoria a tote bag. When we visited her school, I saw several of her future classmates with one. Would that be okay?”
“If it makes carrying her school supplies easier, then I'm all for it. Aim for practical gifts.” He said.
They drove into downtown Congers; passing the Morrow Real Estate Office along the way. Ahead was a small boutique that sold handbags. Tom and Amy went inside. After searching for what seemed to be an eternity, Amy found one; a medium-sized tote resplendent in a black and white checkered pattern with purple accents. To Amy, the handbag screamed, “I'm perfect.”
“Dad, I found one!” Amy said as she rushed over to her father. He took one look at it and said:
“She'll love this. It has the checkered pattern that she loves so much, and the purple is in the right places.”
One gift down, two more to go. From Congers, they headed out to Nanuet; Tom's stomach told him it was lunch.
“Are you hungry, Amy?” He asked. She nodded.
“I know one of the best 'secret' pizza places nearby. You may have heard of it, but I can guarantee you that you haven't eaten there.”
“Try me, dad.”
“Nanuet Restaurant, in Nanuet.”
Amy searched her mind. She was drawing a blank.
“I guess I haven't been there.” She said.
“You'll like it; cracker thin crust with ample toppings.” Tom replied. He knew Amy's favorite food was pizza and that it came from Village Pizza in Piermont. As Tom parked the car, Amy looked at the place. Inside, she heard a lot of people who came over from northern New Jersey; their accents unmistakable within the crowd. The waitress came over, seemingly bothered by something; but she maintained her composure and took their order.
“This place is loud!” Amy said to her father.
“It's very popular. I often have lunch here a few times a week. My friend Tom from the advertising agency and I come here a lot.”
Five minutes later their pizza was brought to the table. This time the waitress seemed to be in a much better mood.
“I didn't realize it was you, Tom. How are you doing today? Who's this with you?” She asked with a smile.
“I'm fine; this is my daughter, Amy.”
“How are you?” Amy asked in a somewhat assertive manner.
The waitress left. Tom and Amy dug in.
“You've been getting better at introductions.” He noted. For a long time, Amy would be too shy to introduce herself. The pizza was crispy; the pepperoni fried and cupped.
“Don't tell mom, but I am nervous about going to Massachusetts.” Amy began, taking a bite.
“That's fine. You're allowed to be anxious, Sunshine. I know your mother is.” Tom replied.
“I just don't want her calling every day. Like how she did when Victoria and I went to Summer Camp last year.” Amy replied. Tom had no idea his wife had done that.
“She called you every day?” He asked; if it were true, he'd have to address it with Anne.
“Yeah. The other kids ended up making fun of us.” Amy replied nonchalantly.
Amy gave the pizza a thumbs up. The crunchy, thin crust was a new favorite. The frizzled pepperoni melting into the cheese; it put Village Pizza to shame in her mind.
Twenty minutes later they were back on the road. This time they headed towards New Jersey.
"Dad, I'm also getting Victoria some sketchbooks. She really likes to doodle, and she might want to draw while she's at school."
"Good thinking. Let's go to Blick down in Paramus. They'll have what you're looking for."
"The last time you were in Paramus, you weren't even born yet."
Tom set course for Route 17; leaving the Thruway and headed south,
"We never spend any time together anymore, it seems, sunshine." Tom sighed as they crossed the New Jersey border.
"I'm glad we're spending time together, right now, Dad. It feels good to get away from mom."
Tom smiled and swelled with pride. The North Jersey suburbs unfolded before them. Up ahead was a sign for a new store; the sign reading North Jersey Home Center.
"The guy who owns that company is a prick. Never deal with him, Amy." Tom said as they drove by.
"Why is he a prick?" Amy wondered.
"He wants to buy into my company, sunshine, and construct cookie cutter housing developments. I've told him no again and again."
An accident in the right lane ahead temporarily brought things to a standstill.
"The last gift I'd like to get Victoria is a bunch of cake mix."
"Why?"
"Whenever I have Stacey Greenbaum over, Victoria likes to make us snacks in her Easy Bake Oven. We ran out of chocolate cake mix. Maybe before Victoria and I go away, we can have a send-off."
"I tell you what, you two leave January 7th, correct? I'll make sure I get you and your friends some Nanuet Pizza and a few cases of Foxon Park Kola. As to the cake mix? Yes. Go ahead; if it makes her happy, then we'll make her very happy."
Ten minutes later and the Cadillac pulled into the parking lot of Blick Art Materials. Amy walked inside, as if she had already known where to go. Her father finally caught up her.
"This is where I need your help. Which one should I get her?" Amy asked. Tom handed her a 100-page hardcover sketchbook, complete with a bookmark.
Now on to the cake mix. As they drove down Route 4 deeper into the heart of Bergen County, Amy brought something to her father's attention;
"Last week, mom got black out drunk. She grabbed my braids and I slapped her in self-defense. She really scared me. Not only that, but she'd been hurling insults about Victoria and also about Victoria's friend Kristina. Victoria ran and bowled mom over in her bed, and I dragged her off. Victoria was terrified."
Tom went silent. The sounds of traffic around them the only thing keeping them grounded in the real world. Amy's story and Victoria's were corroborated. He blanched; he knew Anne had been drinking a little more as of late, but this was something else now.
"Your mother grabbed your braids?" He asked, afraid of the answer.
"Yeah, just the end of this one, though. The braid was loose. Her grip wasn't very hard." She said, holding up her left braid.
"I'm sorry she did that to you two. You don't deserve to go through that."
More snow had fallen in Blauvelt overnight, adding to the scene. All of Amy and Victoria's trenches had been covered with a fresh blanket of snow; as if everything had been reset. Their parents left earlier headed into the city, leaving them alone.
"Amy, the Wonder Cats are going to help us. We can't be at war with each other. We have to face 'Jerry.'"
Amy knew who “Jerry” was. She had just finished learning about the start of World War One in her history class before she'd been taken out of school.
"Then that means we have to face Kaiser Bill. He seems like a big baby. Then again, he has Die Wunderroboterkatzen; the robot versions of the Wonder Cats."
"He has robot versions of the cats because he's too mean for real cats to approach him."
As they made preparations, a familiar gray cat wandered into the yard. Victoria froze.
"Here's Sophie!" Victoria shouted. The cat thrust herself down onto the packed snow; purring and swiping.
"You made a new friend." Amy said, taking notice.
"She visits me often. She's really friendly!" Victoria replied, the cat purring away; unbothered by the snow and cold air. The cat scampered away before Amy could pet her.
"Cassie, have confidence in yourself, and you can beat any bad guy." Victoria, alias Alison, said. Amy would never admit that she ever learned anything from Alison and The Wonder Cats, but she'd noticed over the last few weeks perhaps subtly that her self-confidence had grown. Before the battle was set to begin, something caused them to pause the action.
"What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?" Victoria asked her older sister. Amy, who despite being fourteen years of age still held a firm belief in Jolly Old St. Nicholas; however, her belief in him had morphed into something far more complex than just a man in a red suit.
"A new pair of Converse. My current ones have a hole in the right shoe. I'd also like some new sketchbooks and film."
A snowball hit Amy. Victoria began to laugh. Amy smiled sinisterly.
"That's it! We're going to have a snowball fight to end all snowball fights." Amy shouted as she hurled two carefully timed snowballs. Victoria climbed on top of a snow pile and hurled away. Amy getting beaten back. Before they knew it, they were on the side of the house and headed for the driveway until finally Amy put her foot down. She aimed for Victoria's head and fired away. Her sister dove and hid behind a pile of snow at the edge of the driveway. She poked her head above the pile, her hands up.
"I surrender. Please be kind to me in my confinement."
"Okay, Jerry." Amy said sternly, a smile on her face. She'd finally beaten Victoria. There'd be victory celebrations later; a new threat emerged from the side of the road. A pair of older teenagers walking down the road chucked snowballs at them.
"Eat this!" One of them cried out. The ball of ice struck Amy in the shoulder.
"Fuck!" she muttered. The ball didn't break; and Amy picked it up. She hoped it would hit its mark as she chucked it. The sound of cursing let Amy know that the ice ball hit it mark.
Ten minutes later, after everything calmed down, they built a snowman over by the garage.
"He is the snowman of peace. I think we should add some snow angels to the monument. In all the pictures of World War One monuments, I saw in my history class; they always have angel type figures." Victoria made three snow angels. The snow began to fall again; soon, they scampered inside.
"Are you okay, Amy?" Victoria asked, concern rising in her voice after her sister rubbed her shoulder.
"I'm fine. They had great aim!" Amy said with pride; she saw a note on the kitchen island.
"Amy and Victoria,
I left the cocoa on the stove. We can't wait to see your snowman and hear about your battle.
We'll be back later tonight.
Love,
Mom and Dad."
Amy flipped the hamburgers. She'd compliment her own cooking skills if she could. She'd given Victoria the responsibility of checking the frozen French Fries in the oven.
"Do the fries look like they're cooking?" Amy asked. Looking through the oven window, Victoria could see that they were in fact cooking. She gave a thumbs up.
"You'd make it in Ms. Deane's home-economics class." Amy teased.
"Why?"
"Because a guy in my class would just give a thumbs up with everything. He'd drive the teacher crazy." Amy continued.
"You had to take a class on cooking?" Victoria inquired; the idea sounding foreign to her.
"It's part of the Junior High experience, Victoria. We also had to sew. That sucked."
"You can't sew?"
"Not at all. That needle is terrifying. Don't tell mom I said that."
"I won't tell. I promise I won't." Victoria replied, a hint of anxiety in her voice; something Amy was keen to pick out.
"What's wrong, Victoria?"
Victoria looked down at the floor and then her sister. Her smile had all but disappeared.
"This is going to sound weird, but I want to go back to school. I hate being stuck in here all day and having to deal with mom."
Amy could also sympathize. Ever since Anne had taken Amy out of Nyack Junior High, her life began to unravel, so it seemed. She missed seeing her friends, but most of all she missed one of her favorite teachers; Mrs. Mellon. Amy had missed their little chats, especially when Courtney was up to her antics.
"Did you have a teacher you could talk to, Victoria?" Amy asked, seemingly in confidence.
"Ms. Brennan. She understood me on some kind of level, I guess." Victoria replied.
"Amy, you know Mrs. Mellon is Kristina's mom, right?"
Amy hadn't known.
"I didn't know that. Is she as kind to Kristina as she is her students?"
"She's really kind to Kristina."
Dinner was ready; Victoria had set the dining room table. Amy brought in the food. The girls sat at the closer end of the table.
"I hope these are edible!" Amy said as she took a bite. She pulled a face, then gave the thumbs up.
"The Royal Food Taster has decreed the food fit for her Royal Highness, Duchess Victoria." Amy teased. This finally coaxed a smile from Victoria, whose pout was tugging at Amy's heart.
"I love it when you cook, Amy. You're better than mom. You were in a dream I had the other night."
This hit the girl like a ton of lead ingots. She didn't know how to reply to this question. Part of her wanted to know, yet another part wanted her sister to hold on to it. Was the dream a nightmare, or perhaps one of her “rescue” dreams?
"What happened in the dream?"
"As Saint Victoria, I got rid of a gang of bandits that were going to steal everything from you, even your life."
She'd suspected it had been a “rescue” dream. Victoria had been having them a lot more, so it seemed. This one alarmed her, however.
"People were going to hurt me?" Amy asked, concern rising. Usually, Victoria's rescue dreams only involved getting Amy out of sticky situations. Now, Victoria was straight up slaying Amy's enemies. One thing was for sure; Victoria was a fiercely loyal sibling.
"I thank you for saving me."
"The world wouldn't be the same without you. You're my best friend; at the very top, above Kristina." Amy could tell Victoria meant every word of what she was saying. Amy had seen things that Kristina could only begin to imagine; story lines be damned. Anne's incident two weeks ago only the latest in a long line.
Soon, they would be free of Anne's control. Free, of having limited places to go; and lastly, free of having things constantly done for them. Recently, Victoria had confided in Amy that she wanted to do more things for herself; that she was tired of being babied by her mother.
The lock on the front door turned; their parents entered the house. Anne walked into the dining room and saw her two youngest kids in the process of cleaning up dinner. Anne was surprised Amy and Victoria were actually doing the dishes.
"Amy, you're doing a wonderful job." Anne began, marveling in the fact that she'd enlisted the help of Victoria; who was happily scrubbing the dishes in the sink.
"Since when do you wash dishes?" Anne asked Victoria, as if to scold her. The girl began to flinch.
The blue 1980 Ford F150 pulled into the driveway and sat idling. The truck's occupant, a twenty-five-year-old woman, lit up a cigarette. This is Helen Morrow; a trooper in the Massachusetts State Police. Putting her hat on over her crew cut, she took a drag on the cigarette and got out of the truck. The last time she'd been to Blauvelt was in 1978, just after her parents and younger siblings moved in. Stomping out the cigarette, she walked to the front door and knocked. The sound of footsteps scurrying to the front door broke whatever train of thought she had. The front door opened to reveal Amy. A look of surprise on the girls face.
“Merry Christmas, Amy!” Helen exclaimed. She hadn't seen Amy since 1978; she'd grown a bit since then. She walked inside. Sitting in the living room were Tom and Anne. Victoria had somehow managed to sneak out of the room. Anne contained a gasp as Helen walked into the room. The last time Anne had seen Helen, her head was covered with hair. Seeing Helen's crew cut began to anger Anne.
“Why did you cut off all of your hair?” Anne demanded.
“My job dictates my hair be cut short. I'm sorry that angers you, mom.” Helen replied coolly. Anne never approved of Helen's career choice in law enforcement. Anne's fear that one day she'd have to contend with news that her daughter had been killed in the line of duty was a driving factor.
“It's good to see you, regardless. I hope the drive down from New Bedford was smooth.”
“It's Norwell, mom.”
Helen could barely look at her mother. Remembering how Amy looked when she opened the door reinforced the thought that Anne hadn't changed much since she moved away from home. By now, Victoria had fully announced her presence.
“Hi, Helen.” Victoria uttered. Helen looked at her youngest sister with sympathy. She knew that Victoria's life was some form of hell.
“How are you Victoria? I haven't seen you in a while.” Victoria became shy. In the rush of things, Anne had seemingly forgotten to tell her two youngest children that their brother Isaac and sister, Helen were visiting for Christmas.
“I'm okay.” Victoria replied. The smell of the baking ham and scalloped potatoes permeated the entire first floor.
“I'm glad that you're doing fine.” Helen said.
“Mom didn't tell Amy and I that you were coming.” Victoria said matter-of-factly. This angered Helen. Not telling them about Genevieve was one thing; not telling Amy or Victoria that she was coming had ruffled one feather too many. Just as Helen was about to speak, the doorbell rang. Anne walked over to open the door.
It was Isaac and his fiancé Hannah. Anne reached to hug her son, and seemingly left Hannah behind.
“Oh, Isaac it's certainly good to see you! How is the airline treating you?”
“I'm on the board of directors over at Granite State now. We're expanding into White Plains starting in January.”
“Hannah, I'm sorry.” Anne muttered; feigning shock. She despised the petite brunette secretary. Inwardly, Hannah had come to learn everything Isaac had told her about his mother was true. She glanced over towards her future in laws; the young girls seemingly lost under Anne's feet, the young woman giving her hope that one could escape Anne.
While their parents talked with their brother and sister, Amy and Victoria escaped upstairs. A look of horror had crept across Amy's face. The anxiety began to rise earlier that afternoon, when Anne screamed at Amy because she allegedly forgot to push in her chair in the kitchen. Amy began to vent her frustration. Her face turning red.
“Why didn't mommy tell us that Helen or Isaac were coming!? It's not fair that we have to suddenly cater to them. It's not fair, I tell you!” She began to stomp her foot, her face becoming redder by the second. If Amy had been a kettle, she'd just about boil over.
“Amy, mommy forgets to tell us stuff all the time. I'm not mad at her. Don't be mad at her tonight. We haven't seen Helen or Isaac in a long time.” For once, Victoria was the voice of reason.
“You're right, Victoria. They probably still hate us.”
“They don't hate us, Amy. If anything, I think they're scared for us.” She said. Amy began to calm down.
“Why would they be scared, Victoria?” Amy queried.
“Mommy. That's why. They don't like how she treats us.”
“I see.”
Downstairs, the rest of the family had migrated to the dining room. Tom had managed to talk to his son.
“I heard earlier that Granite State is expanding into White Plains?”
“Two flights: one to Keene and the other to Portsmouth via a stopover at Concord. Anything to cut into the juggernaut that is West Air.”
“Where do you fit into all of this, Isaac?”
“Checking the facilities at White Plains. They're ready for us. Rumor has it that Evergreen Airways will begin Bangor and Portland service soon. Hannah has more information; she's on the front lines, daily.”
Tom hoped that his son would have gone into real estate; lower risk investment and with tangible assets. Commercial aviation was a poison pill, according to Tom.
“How much have you invested into Granite State?” He asked.
“Hardly anything. I started as a pilot, then I was elevated to the board as head of route planning and development. I mostly work for Patrick Sinclair. He's hell-bent on building an alliance of small backwoods carriers to combat his brother, Joe.”
“Now that sounds interesting, Isaac. What's the point of the alliance?”
“Basically, since West Air has been expanding at an astounding rate; these smaller carriers are banding together to prevent being merged into that carrier. Both Granite State and Evergreen are looking to point a dagger into the heart of West Air's New York operations.”
To Tom, what Isaac was saying reminded him of the immediate aftermath of the Second World War when a nascent United Nations and NATO became household words. West Air had been the carrier that took Amy and Victoria on their school visit. Their service seemed impeccable and the aircraft modern.
Tom turned his attention to Helen. He looked her over; her haircut seeming to displease him.
“They made you cut your hair?” He asked her.
“I don't understand why that's a problem.” She protested. Helen was twenty-five; old enough to make her own decisions.
“Is that part of your uniform?”
“Yes. I have to keep my hair cut short.”
“That's fine.” Tom replied. He didn't want to hear too much of her exploits on the highways and byways of Massachusetts. Like Anne, he, too, worried about the day that uniformed troopers would show up and announce something terrible had happened.
“Have you seen the girls?” Anne asked.
“Amy! Victoria! Get yourselves down here, right now!” She screamed.
Both Amy and Victoria arrived moments later. Anne could see Amy had been crying. She shot her daughter a look and then found herself alongside the fourteen-year-old;
“I don't want to hear you whine or complain tonight, Amy.” Anne hissed.
“You could've told Victoria and me that Isaac and Helen were coming.” Amy pleaded; all she wanted was herself and her immediate family to have a quiet dinner in the dining room.
Everyone took their places at the table. Amy shot her mother a look of, “you will pay for this.” Tom and Anne had brought the food into the dining room. With everything ready; the family dug in.
The kitchen was alive at 6 AM. Helen had joined her two youngest siblings in the kitchen. Lighting up a Merit, Helen looked for the coffee. Finding none, she steamed.
"Does mom not preload the goddamn coffee maker? You think she would, the way she seems to control you two." She mused darkly, taking a drag on her cigarette.
"Helen, Victoria and I are teenagers. Do you expect us to run this house and pay the bills by ourselves?"
"That's not what I mean." Helen began.
"Then what do you mean?"
"Last night, mom said something to you. Something about behaving. You're fourteen. You should know how to be yourself; mom shouldn't still be that involved. I know about the outfits. She tried that shit out on me. Look how I turned out. I also know you smoke cigarettes, Amy. Stop that right now." Helen commiserated as she rubbed her hair.
"I hate that she still lays out our outfits. I wanted to be able to choose my own clothes. I can understand Victoria, but I don't have her problems. Besides, I only smoke at night at 8:30."
"You have more difficulties than you think you do. The way mom and dad argued late last night; Amy, do me a favor: enjoy your time at school. Away from this place, and you keep Victoria close."
"Mom was bad-mouthing us again, wasn't she?" The way Amy said again made Helen think that it was a nearly daily occurrence.
"The whole night. I was about to go in there and shut her up. Dad did that job." She could hear her mother in her drunken stupor.
"Why?" Amy asked; her smile, a beam of sunshine that normally lit up any room, was extinguished. A look of sadness quickly turned to anger. She turned around and headed upstairs.
"I don't want to know! Just leave me alone."
"This sucks!" Victoria whined.
"You don't want to know what mom thinks of you."
"She wants to put me up in Letchworth. I pay more attention than I let on. That's my biggest secret and superpower."
Helen was shocked. She wondered why Victoria wasn't upset.
"I've already been over the river in Peekskill at the mental hospital there. Three times. The first was when I was eight. The second when I was eleven, and the last just this past September. There's a nurse there who's friends with mommy. She loves to stick me with the needle when I'm there."
Helen's shock turned to rage.
"The fact that you have the times memorized and that mom is friends with a nurse there is horrific."
"Not just any nurse; the head nurse." Victoria proudly began.
"Oh my god, Victoria!" Helen interjected.
"Mommy even wants me to have shock treatments! She says that they'll make me happier and less of a handful." She continued, blindly happy to what that actually entailed. Helen turned red.
"That way, mommy can 'keep an eye on me'."
"No. I won't let her do that. Not on my watch."
"When I'm away at school, I'll be far from Mommy. She wants me to be sad, but instead I'll be happy."
"Be happy Victoria."
"I'll jump!"
"You're lucky I know you." Helen replied. As a State Trooper in Massachusetts, she'd heard that phrase more than she liked to admit.
"Why?"
"Because sometimes people who are really sad decide that the world doesn't want them around anymore."
"But jumping should make them happy. I get really happy when I jump."
"In a normal world, yes it does." Helen replied; changing the subject, she turned the topic towards school.
"You're going to school in Massachusetts? Do you know where?" Helen asked.
"Some place called Barn-stable." Victoria replied.
"That's on the Cape. One of my partners works out there. It's pronounced as one word."
