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Chapter 1
Meg Sullivan had never fancied herself as a housewife, but now here she was, standing over a pot of mushroom soup and at the same time keeping an eye on little Bryan Sullivan, the curious infant tucked safely away in his high chair, belt and all. How did it come to this? She asked herself. She was a Harvard Law School graduate, for goodness’s sakes, and now she was stuck in suburbia with six, God, six! children to satisfy!
No thanks to good ol’ Neil, she thought wryly as she stirred the soup again. She looked at the clock. Oh God, she had to fetch the kids in ten minutes, and she had barely time to check out the number for the brand new kitchen appliance that Linney Cooper suggested she buy yet. Damn! She threw the spoon into the sink and closed the lid of the pot. Bryan wailed and threw up on her oversized Harvard T-shirt when she lifted him out of his chair.
“Oh come on, Bryan, how thick can you get?” Meg set him down in his chair and rushed towards the closet for a fresh shirt. As she changed out of her smelly T-shirt, she heard a clatter on the floor and a gurgle of laughter. What the hell?
She dropped her T-shirt onto the washing machine and strode furiously towards the kitchen, only to find her unfinished cereal bowl upturned on the floor, cereal splattered everywhere, and Bryan giggling and clapping his hands. She smiled tiredly back at him and picked up the bowl and tossed it into the sink. She didn’t have the time to clean it up until she had fetched the kids home from school, which could take a while since Bates, Jane and Randy were in elementary school, Tom was in middle school and Mary was in preschool. And, oh God, the grocery.
Meg carried Bryan into her arms and dragged the pram out of the closet. Why oh why had she forgotten to take it out together with her T-shirt? She sat Bryan into the pram and wheeled him out of the kitchen, remembering, thank goodness, to fetch the shopping list from under the ‘Home Sweet Home’ fridge magnet.
More work, she thought tiredly and wryly again, as she unlocked the door to the minivan and placed Bryan into the baby safety-seat next to the driver seat and locked him into place. Bryan looked up at her dolefully with his big brown eyes just before she closed the door. She smiled and pinched his cheeks gently. “All for you, Bryan. It’s all for you, okay?”
He smiled and rubbed his eyes. She grinned and kissed him on his forehead. “Sure you understand, right?” She closed the door and strode over to the driver seat. She activated the engine and backed out of the driveway as fast and as carefully as she could without so much as a brush at the hawthorn shrubs that lined the driveway. The last time she had damaged them Neil didn’t speak to her for weeks until she actually replanted them.
First, Bates, Jane and Randy. Meg pulled up beside the curb and searched the crowd of children streaming out from the doors. Some parents were standing in the school grounds, chatting while they waited anxiously for their children. They’re always late, Meg thought and rested her chin on her hand. No way she was going to go out. It was terrible talking to the pro-PTA parents. Fight for better learning environment! Fight for more homework! Sheesh. They actually had the time.
Beside her, Bryan gurgled and played with his rattle. Meg gently pried the rattle from his hands and held it several inches away from him. She shook it. Bryan clapped his hands and reached out for it.
“You like it? Lil’ Goo-goo Bryan likes the rattle?” she smiled and rattled it again. Bryan giggled and bobbed his hand up and down, as if he actually understood what she said to him. She laughed too and shook it again.
“Mom! Open the door!”
Meg jumped and quickly realized, with some relief, that it was only Bates, Jane and Randy. She unlocked the door.
The three children practically leapt into the minivan and caused it to shake.
“Whoa! Little chimpanzees, how was school?”
“Boring!” they replied simultaneously as she drove away to pick up Tom.
Had they planned the reply before entering the car? She shook her head. Kids.
“Any homework?”
“Mrs. Norman gave me some grammar exercise but I finished it all!” Jane beamed from behind. Meg smiled. Jane was only eight years old and already a good show-off. An unnecessary reminder of their Aunt Lisa.
The twins, Bates and Randy, both ten and loved to act alike, clapped their hands. “O behold the mighty Master of Grammar-Lore,” Bates droned. “All shall bow and recognize the Master of Grammar-Lore,” Randy continued.
Meg had to laugh. Even little Bryan, who seemed to understand almost everything, gurgled and shook his rattle even more furiously. Jane grew pink and edged closer to the window.
“Oh look at Janey Jane! She’s embarrassed!”
“She’s as pink as cotton candy!”
“And as bright as Mom’s mysterious pills!”
“Bates! Randy! Cut it out! It’s a very good thing to do, finishing your homework on time.”
“Aww, Mom!”
“Either you talk about something more enjoyable for all of us or keep quiet.”
“Did Bryan puke today?”
“Did Daddy come home for a boo-boo?”
“Boys!” What the hell? How did they figure out?
Thankfully, Tom was already waiting for them when she pulled up at the driveway of Gardner Falls Middle School.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, glad you’re out early.”
“Tom! Did you borrow ‘Sin City’ from your friend like you said you will?”
Sin City? “Tom!”
“It’s just a comic book, Mom!”
“I’m not naïve, I’ve seen the insides of the book. Give it to me!”
“Not ‘Sin City’, Mom, ‘SimCity’, the computer game.”
Meg halted the car at the traffic light and turned behind. “Let me see it, Tom.”
He sighed, opened his backpack and pulled out a brightly-colored CD case. The words ‘SimCity’ grinned back at her. She sighed and nodded. “Pass.”
“Yay!”
One more stop before stopping at Wal-Mart. Meg drove towards Mary’s preschool. How tiresome, she thought as she turned into a corner. One day she was going to collapse for sure.
She fixed her eyes on the dirty-looking teenage boy who had just entered. His dark hair was messy and rumpled, his round glasses looked cracked and messy with smearing of fingerprints, his cheeks were dirt-stained and a graze decorated the area of his face near the left eye. He carried a shabby backpack in one hand. He looked exhausted and prone to fainting.
“Well, uh, hello, may I help you? Do you want anything to eat, drink?” she asked him as politely as she could. Mr. Crenshaw stared at the boy with a look of loathing on his face.
“Urm, no thanks, unless, er, if I could have a free sandwich,” the boy replied uncertainly. His voice bore a thick British accent.
Tessie looked so surprised that the boy hurriedly dug into his mud-stained jeans and counted a pitiful amount of coins. Then he put all of them on the counter. She saw that he was wearing a pair of greasy biker gloves.
“I hope it’s enough,” he croaked out.
Tessie looked at the coins and saw that they weren’t enough for even a cup of coffee. Smiling somewhat wistfully, she pushed the coins back to him. “Keep it,” she found herself saying, “I’ll get you a chicken sandwich and a cup of coffee, free of charge. And, while I’m at it, sit down and make yourself comfy.”
The boy broke into a big and relieved smile. Tessie found herself on the verge of tears when she saw a genuine ray of happiness in his eyes.
“Thanks! Thanks loads . . .” he sat on the stool and dropped his backpack onto the floor.
“’Loads, eh?’” Mr. Crenshaw said suddenly. The boy turned to look, surprised.
“You from London?” he asked roughly.
The boy nodded. “Yeah.”
“What you doin’ here all by yourself?”
“I’m looking for – oh thanks – for someone.” Tessie set the cup of coffee and the sandwich in front of him.
“Who? A girl? A long lost love?”
The boy took a monstrous bite out of the sandwich and chewed voraciously before he swallowed and answered, “My mum.”
“Your mom?” Mr. Crenshaw sat up, interested.
The boy nodded.
“Why, sonny?”
“I, er, I was a baby when she left me with my dad, now my dad’s been wanting to involve me in, er, something I didn’t like, so I left him . . . I thought it would be a good idea to meet my mum again.”
Mr. Crenshaw chuckled. “I see, a rogue, eh? Where does your mom live?”
The boy took a sip of the coffee. “According to the phone directory, she’s living in Gardner Falls, near Chicago, I think - ”
“Well, lucky you then, sonny, I know the way there.”
The boy’s eyes lit up again. “You do? Blimey!”
“I live there. I can give you a ride as well.”
“Will you? It’ll be loads of help . . .”
Mr. Crenshaw laughed. “No problem at all, son. Finish your meal first and off we go.”
The boy quickly gulped down his coffee and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. He stood and so did Mr. Crenshaw.
“Thanks, Miss, er - ”
“Tessie,” she finished for him, smiling a little forlornly, a sandwich and coffee gone without charge . . .
“Here, Tess,” Mr. Crenshaw put some dollar bills on the counter. “For the soup and this young man’s dinner.”
“Oh no, Mr. Crenshaw! Keep the money; the sandwich and cuppa’s free.”
Mr. Crenshaw clucked his tongue. “I know your business ain’t doin’ very well lately, so . . . in appreciation of the finest chicken soup in Chicago.”
Tessie blinked back tears. “Thanks, Mr. Crenshaw. You’re too kind.”
“The least I can do, Tessie. See ya.” Mr. Crenshaw gave her a short wave and disappeared through the door, beckoning the boy to follow him. The boy waved back at her and exited.
Mr. Crenshaw led him towards a battered truck and opened the passenger door for him. He got in the driver’s side later and revved the engine.
“Say, sonny, what’s your name?”
“James.”
The doorbell rang. Meg closed the lid of the pot. Bates and Randy instantly made a beeline for it. “BATES! RANDY! IT’S A BOILING HOT POT OF MASHED POTATOES!” she yelled halfway across the kitchen.
They looked at her in wonder. “Oh MOM!” “Thank you!” “Our saviour!”
She ignored them and marched into the living room, where Mary was tugging the Playstation 2 console from Tom’s hands.
“I wanna pway! I wanna pway!”
“Tom, give that thing to your sister!”
Tom’s jaw fell open. “But MOM! It’s not even an hour - ”
“JUST GIVE IT TO HER, WILL YOU?”
“Fine,” Tom said grudgingly and handed it to Mary, who grinned triumphantly.
Meg opened the door.
“Neil!”
“Sorry hon, I left my keys in the bedside drawer,” Neil Sullivan smiled apologetically and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“Never mind, Neil, let’s just get you inside.”
“DADDY!” All at once, the Sullivan battalion attacked their father, throwing their arms around his legs, wrenching his attaché case from his hands, helping to hang up his khaki-coloured duster, and laughing all about him. The only one who stayed behind was Tom, who Meg supposed deemed himself to old for such childish frivolities, and Bryan, who was not able to walk. But he joined in the gaggle anyway, by shrieking and clapping his hands.
Meg marched back into the kitchen and turned off the stove. She checked the pasta sauce, mashed potatoes and the spaghetti in a separate pot. All done.
“Jaaaane! Help me set the table, will you?”
“I’m coming, Mom!”
Meg served the spaghetti and its meatball sauce and handed them to Jane so that she could put them on the table, which the little girl did so carefully and meticulously.
After the pasta and the mashed potatoes were served, Meg yelled at the living room, where the rest of the family was watching TV, “DINNER’S SERVED!”
There was a mad rush for seats on the dining table and for food as well. Meg gave up trying to tell them that each of the plate had the same amount of food, so she settled down beside Bryan and began to coax a spoon of porridge into his mouth, trying to be oblivious to all the mess they made, the noise they produced, and the petty arguments that exploded throughout the table.
Yes, she would definitely collapse from sheer terror if she was presented with another child.
