Mother looked at me and then back at her. Haylee looked so sincere. I thought if I didn’t know her, if I were a stranger or someone who hadn’t been with us for years, I would believe her, too.
“I won’t have it,” Mother said firmly. “Whether he knows about it or not, I won’t have him turning our home into a funeral parlor, with the both of you sitting around mournfully while your friends enjoy being . . . being young.”
“It’s all right, Mother,” Haylee continued, looking so unselfish it could bring strangers to tears. “Kaylee and I have decided we can just watch something on TV or play some board game while you’re out.”
“Nonsense,” Mother said. “You’ve invited people. How would it look if you just canceled for no reason? Anyone with half a brain would blame it on the situation your father caused. The waves of pity will drown me out there. I won’t have it.”
“Well, we didn’t think of that,” Haylee said, looking very thoughtful. She nodded. “Mother’s right, Kaylee. We wouldn’t want that, either, right?”
I looked at her and then at Mother and shook my head. I felt as if Haylee had taken my hand and walked me out onto thin ice. Whether I wanted to be or not, I was now part of
her dishonesty. Ironically, Mother was right. Whatever one of us did the other would share, whether it was a compliment or a criticism. How could one of us do anything without people looking at the other? “Haylee-Kaylee, Kaylee-Haylee” would be hovering in the air above our heads whether we wanted it or not.
“Then it’s settled,” Mother declared. “I don’t want to hear any more talk about canceling your party.”
“Okay, Mother. It’s just that . . . well, to be honest, we’re not sure we’re planning the party right,” Haylee continued, now on a real roll. “Everyone orders in pizza. We hate doing what everyone else does, but we’re not sure what else we should do.”
Mother thought a moment. “Well, let’s do something special for sure,” she said. “We can make a homemade Italian party for you. We’ll do a meat lasagna, that sausage-filled ravioli with marinara sauce, and an eggplant parmesan for those who don’t want to eat meat. We’ll get it all prepared ahead of time, so all you have to do is warm it up. The two of you can make a very good salad.
“And I know what else,” she continued, shocking me with her enthusiasm. “I’ll pick up some tiramisu at the Italian deli this afternoon. We have enough soft drinks. It will be the best party any of your classmates ever had at someone’s house. I know the two of you and your friends will take care not to make a mess and will clean up before I come home.”
“Oh, Mother, that’s too much for you to do just when you’re trying to get yourself settled again!” Haylee cried, practically in tears. “You have so much on your mind.”
“Nonsense. I’m not going to let him disturb one hair on my head when it comes to making my girls happy,” she declared. “As soon as I bring you to school today, I’ll start on the party menu.”
“You’ll be too exhausted to go out yourself, or you’ll be so tired you’ll have to come home early,” Haylee pursued. I couldn’t keep up with how quickly she could weave her fraud.
“Absolutely not. In fact, this will give me more energy, and I’ll be the last to leave the Clarks’. No one will see me crawl into a hole like some mousy, beaten-down ex-wife,” she vowed. “I intend to have a very good time.”
When Mother turned her back, Haylee looked at me. I couldn’t imagine any actor who played Iago having a more evil, self-satisfied smile.
“If there’s only the four of us, what are we supposed to do with all that food?” I asked her the moment we were away from Mother.
“We’ll have it recycled.”
“What?”
“We’ll have either Jimmy or Matt take it to some homeless shelter, Kaylee. What do I care about extra food? We’re going to have a good time. Get used to it,” she told me. “For the rest of your life.”
A part of me thought that maybe she was right. If I didn’t listen to her, I could dig myself into a corner of shadows thick with depression and ruin every chance I had for a happy high school life. A year ago, if anyone had told me that I would look to my sister for guidance socially or in anything whatsoever, I would have thought him or her nuts or stupid. Yet here I was, doing just that.
On Friday, I described our menu to Matt. He was amazed and then asked the same question. “Won’t you have a lot of leftovers?”
“Haylee’s in charge of figuring it all out,” I said.
“She’s in charge?”
“When it comes to planning anything behind my mother’s back, she’s in charge.”
On our way home after school, Mother described everything she had done. She brought us to the kitchen immediately and showed us all the dishes, instructing us on how to warm up everything and what silverware and dishes to use. She had even set up two folding tables in the dining room to serve as buffet tables. She had cleared away anything she thought might be damaged or broken.
“What are you planning to wear?” she asked us.
Haylee had plotted everything but this and looked at me quickly to reply.
“Nobody gets very dressed up for house parties, Mother, but we’re not sure. We want to wear something nice but not too formal,” I said, coming to the rescue.
“Yes.” She thought a moment and then brightened and said, “There’s that black and white lace dress I bought you as one of your birthday presents. It’s not very formal, and yet it makes a statement.”