Along for the Ride Read online

  ‘I worked for an accountant last summer for a little while,’ I told her, pulling the coffee out of the freezer. By the time I got up they’d long ago rinsed out the pot, so I always got a fresh one, all mine. ‘It was no big deal.’

  ‘I spent two hours last night going over this checkbook register,’ she said, picking it up and waving it at me. ‘And I could not find the problem. How did you even know to consider double withholding?’

  I started the coffeemaker, wishing I could at least have a cup in me before having to converse with anyone. No chance of that, though.

  ‘The register indicated it happened last May,’ I told her. ‘So I just figured it might have again. And then when I went to look at the tax statements –’

  ‘Which were such a mess, too, I couldn’t find a thing in them!’ she said. ‘And now they’re all organized. You must have spent hours getting all this stuff in order.’

  Four, I thought. Out loud I said, ‘No. I really didn’t.’

  She just shook her head, watching me as the coffeemaker finally produced enough for a quarter of a cup, which I quickly poured into my mug. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I’ve been needing to hire someone to help me with the books for months now, but I was hesitant, as it’s such a sensitive job. I didn’t want to give it to just anyone.’

  Oh, dear Lord, I thought. Please just let me drink my coffee.

  ‘But if you were interested,’ she continued, ‘I’d make it worth your while. Seriously.’

  I was still waiting for the caffeine to hit as I said, ‘Um, I wasn’t really planning to work this summer. And I’m not exactly a morning person…’

  ‘Oh, you wouldn’t have to be, though!’ she said. ‘The girls do the deposit every day, and that’s the only thing that has to be done by a certain time. The rest, like the books and the payroll and keeping track of the register take, you can do later in the day. It’s actually better if you wait, really.’

  Of course it was. And now I was stuck, as clearly, no good deed went unpunished. The bigger issue, though, was what had inspired this sudden burst of Good Samaritan behavior on my part? Was it that hard to realize that it would never just stop with one thing, there would always be a next step expected, and then one beyond that?

  ‘That’s a really nice offer,’ I said to Heidi, ‘but –’

  This thought was interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind me: a moment later, my dad rounded the corner, carrying an empty plate, a Diet Coke can balanced on top of it. When he saw Heidi, and she looked back at him, I knew instantly their argument from the night before had not been resolved. It wasn’t exactly a chill in the air as much as a deep freeze.

  ‘Well,’ he said to me, walking to the sink and putting his plate into it, ‘I see you’re finally awake. What time do you go to bed these days, anyway?’

  ‘Late,’ I told him. ‘Or early, depending on how you look at it.’

  He nodded as he rinsed off the plate, sticking it in the dish rack. ‘Ah, the ease of youth. Up all night, not a care in the world. I envy you.’

  Don’t, I thought. Heidi said, ‘Actually, Auden spent last night going over my books. She found the error that threw off my balance.’

  ‘Really,’ my dad said, glancing at me.

  ‘I’m trying to convince her to work for me,’ Heidi added. ‘Do a few hours a day in the office at the shop.’

  ‘Heidi,’ he said, rinsing off his hands, ‘Auden’s not here to work. Remember?’

  It was just one comment but crafted for maximum impact. And it delivered: I watched as Heidi winced. ‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘I just thought that she might –’

  ‘She should be enjoying her time with her family,’ he told her. Then he smiled at me. ‘What do you say, Auden? How about you and me have dinner tonight?’

  He was good, my dad. I had to give him that. And so what if this was all about getting back at Heidi for the night before? It was exactly what I wanted, just me and him, and that was all that mattered. Wasn’t it?

  ‘That sounds great,’ Heidi said. When I looked at her, she smiled at me, although it seemed a little forced. ‘And, look, don’t worry about the job thing. Your dad’s right, you should just be enjoying your summer.’

  My dad was taking a last sip of his Diet Coke, watching her as she said this. It had been a while since I’d had to listen to my parents fight, but no matter. Same tension, same barbs. Same look on my dad’s face when he knew he’d won.

  ‘Actually,’ I said, speaking before I even really realized what I was doing, ‘I could use some extra money for school. As long as it wasn’t too many hours.’

  Heidi looked surprised, then glanced at my dad – whose expression could best be described as annoyed – before saying, ‘Oh, it wouldn’t be! Just, like, fifteen a week. If that.’

  ‘Auden,’ my dad said. ‘Don’t feel obligated. You’re here as our guest.’

  I knew that if I hadn’t heard their argument the night before, this entire exchange would have been different. But you can’t unlearn something, even if you want to. You know what you know.

  Later that evening, my dad and I walked up the boardwalk to a place right on the pier, where we ordered a pound of steamed shrimp and sat looking over the water. I wasn’t sure if it was that I couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d said, or that he was still annoyed at me taking Heidi’s offer (and, in his mind at least, side), but at first it was a little stiff, awkward. After he had a beer and we both endured some very dull conversation, though, things loosened up, with him asking me about Defriese and my plans for my major. In turn, I got him to talk about his book (‘an intricate study of a man trying to escape his family’s past’) and the progress he was making (he’d had to tear out the middle, it just wasn’t working, but the new stuff was much, much better). It took a while, but somewhere between the second pound of shrimp and his detailed explanation about his character’s inner conflict, I was reminded of everything I loved about my dad: his passion for his work, and the way, when he was talking to you about it, it was like there was no one else in the room, or even the world.

  ‘I can’t wait to read it,’ I told him as the waitress dropped off our check. Between us there was a huge mound of shrimp shells, translucent and pink in the sunlight slanting through the window. ‘It sounds great.’

  ‘See, you understand how important all this is,’ he said, wiping his mouth. ‘You were there when Narwhal came out, and saw how its success changed our lives. This could do the same for me and the baby and Heidi. I just wish she could see that.’ He was studying his beer bottle as he said this, turning it in his hand.

  ‘Well, it could be she’s just emotional right now. Sleep deprivation and all that.’

  ‘Maybe.’ He took a sip. ‘But in truth, she doesn’t think like we do, Auden. Her strength is business, which is all about results, very calculating. It’s different with academics and writers. You know that.’

  I did know that. But I also knew that my mother, who fit both of these categories, had felt the exact same way about his efforts with this exact same novel. Still, it was nice to know he felt like he could confide in me.

  After dinner, we parted ways and I headed toward Clementine’s, where I’d told Heidi I’d look over the office and get my bearings before officially starting work the next day. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to it, for any number of reasons, so I was actually grateful for once for the distraction that was my brother.

  ‘So,’ I said to him now as the music began to thump again, ‘Tara’s nice.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Tara,’ I repeated. ‘Your girlfriend?’

  ‘Oh, right.’ There was a pointed pause, which pretty much answered any lingering questions I might have asked. Then, ‘So you got your present, huh?’

  I could see the picture frame, which was in my duffel bag, instantly in my mind, those words beneath his grinning face: THE BEST OF TIMES. ‘Yeah,’ I said to Hollis. ‘It’s great. I love it.’

  He chuckled. �
�Come on, Aud. You do not.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘No, you don’t. It’s totally tacky.’

  ‘Well,’ I said. ‘It’s –’

  ‘Horrible,’ he finished for me. ‘Cheap and ridiculous. Probably the stupidest graduation gift ever, which is exactly why I gave it to you.’ He laughed, that booming, Hollis guffaw that, despite myself, always made me want to laugh, too. ‘Look, I figured there was no way I could compete with all the money and savings bonds and new cars you’d be getting from everyone else. So I decided at least my offering should be memorable.’

  ‘It is that,’ I agreed.

  ‘You should have seen the others!’ Another laugh. ‘They had them with all kinds of sayings. One was HELLO FRIEND! in bright yellow. Also, PARTY QUEEN, in pink. And then there was the one that said, inexplicably, in green, CRAZY PERSON. Like anyone would want their picture in that.’

  ‘Only you,’ I said.

  ‘No kidding!’ He snorted. ‘Anyway, I figured the cool thing was that you could keep switching out the picture. Because you don’t want THE BEST OF TIMES to be just one thing, forever. You have to have a lot of bests of times, each one topping the last. You know?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. And just like that, he’d done it again: taken a thought he’d probably come to on the fly, under any number of influences, and somehow managed to make it deep enough to resonate. It was an art, what Hollis did. Never calculating, but it did have its charms. ‘I miss you,’ I said to him.

  ‘I miss you, too,’ he replied. ‘Hey, look, I’ll send a CRAZY PERSON frame. You can put that picture of me in it, set it next to you in THE BEST OF TIMES, and it’ll almost be like we’re together. What do you think?’

  I smiled. ‘It’s a deal.’

  ‘Cool!’ There was a muffled noise, followed by loud voices. ‘Okay, Aud, I gotta run. Ramona and me are headed to a party. Talk soon, though, okay?’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Let’s –’

  But then he was gone, just like that. Before I could ask him who exactly Ramona was, or what had happened in Amsterdam. That was my brother, the living, breathing To Be Continued. Like my dad’s book, he was always in progress.

  I shut my phone, then slid it back into my pocket. Hollis was a great distraction, but any regret I’d been feeling about taking the job came rushing back as soon as I opened the door to Clementine’s and saw Maggie standing at the register, Leah and Esther on either side of her. There is really nothing more intimidating than approaching a group of girls who have already made up their minds about you. It’s like walking a plank, no way to go but down.

  ‘Hello,’ Leah, the redhead, said as I came toward them. She was one of those tall, curvy types with milky white skin and was wearing a low-cut sundress and strappy heels. Her voice was neither kind nor unkind, just sort of level as she said, ‘What can we do for you?’

  ‘She’s going to be doing the books,’ Maggie told her, although her eyes were on me. When I looked back at her, though, she flushed, turning her gaze to some papers on the counter in front of her, shuffling them busily. ‘Heidi’s been looking for someone since the baby came, remember?’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Leah said. She pushed back from the counter, hopping up on the one behind her, and folded her long legs. ‘Well, maybe now our checks won’t bounce.’

  ‘No kidding,’ Esther said. Her pigtails were gone, her hair loose and topped with an army-style cap, which she was wearing with a black sundress, a denim jacket thrown over it, and flip-flops. ‘I mean, I love Heidi. But getting paid at the ATM is kind of sketchy.’

  ‘You did get paid, though. Heidi’s a good boss; it was an honest mistake,’ Maggie said. Now she was making a studied point of not looking at me as she hit a button on the register, then pulled out a stack of bills, straightening them. Again, she was dressed in pink – both her shirt and flip-flops – and I wondered if this was some kind of signature thing with her. I bet it was. ‘Anyway, someone’s supposed to show her around.’

  ‘Who?’ Leah asked. ‘Heidi?’

  ‘No.’ Maggie shut the drawer, then looked at me. A moment later, Leah and Esther both followed suit. Clearly, I’d reached the end of that plank. Nothing to do but jump.

  ‘Auden,’ I said.

  A pause. Then Leah pushed herself off the counter, dropping her feet to the floor with a clunk. ‘Come on,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘The office is this way.’

  I could feel the other girls watching me as I followed her past a couple of racks of jeans, a shoe display, and a clearance section to a narrow hallway. ‘That’s the bathroom,’ she said, nodding at a door on the left. ‘Not for customer use, ever, it’s the rule. And here’s the office. Stand back, the door kind of sticks.’

  She reached for the knob, then pushed herself against it. A second later, I heard a pop! and it swung open.

  The first thing I saw was pink. All four walls were painted a rosy, almost bubble-gummy shade of Maggie’s favorite color. What wasn’t pink (which, at first glance, didn’t seem like much) was orange. Adding to the insanity, the very small space was jammed with all kinds of girly little touches: pink stacking bins, a Hello Kitty pencil cup, a bowl filled entirely with lipsticks and lip glosses. Even the filing cabinets – the filing cabinets! – had pink and orange labels, and a pink feather boa was stretched out over across the top of them.

  ‘Wow,’ I said, unable to keep my silence.

  ‘I know,’ Leah agreed. ‘It’s like being in a Starburst box. So, the safe is under the desk, the checkbook lives in the second left-hand drawer, when it’s here, and all the invoices go under the bear.’

  ‘The bear?’

  She stepped inside the room, walked to the desk, and picked up a little stuffed pink bear. Wearing an orange hat. ‘Here,’ she said, pointing to the stack of paper beneath him. ‘Don’t ask me, it was like that when I got hired. Any questions?’

  Of course, I had several, but none she could answer. ‘No. Thanks.’

  ‘Sure thing. Just holler if you need us.’ She stepped past me, back into the hallway, where I was still standing, having not yet had the strength to actually venture inside. I heard her take a few steps before she said, ‘And, Auden?’

  I turned, facing her. ‘Yeah?’

  She glanced over her shoulder, then took one step back toward me. ‘Don’t worry about Maggie. She’s just… emotional. She’ll get over it.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said, wondering how, exactly, I was supposed to respond to this. Even I knew better than to talk about one girl with another one, especially if they were friends. ‘Right.’

  She nodded, then walked away, back to the register, where Esther and Maggie were now bent over a box, sticking price tags onto sunglasses. As she approached, they glanced up at her, then easily adjusted themselves, making room for her to join them.

  I looked back into the pink room, and for some reason thought of my mother, if only because she was the only person I knew who would have had more trouble entering it than I did. I could just imagine her face, how her eyes would narrow in disgust, the heavy, through-the-nostril sigh that would speak louder than the words that followed it. ‘It’s like a womb in here!’ she’d groan. ‘An environment totally ruled by gender stereotypes and expectations, as pathetic as those who chose to inhabit it.’

  Exactly, I thought. Then I went inside.

  Heidi’s office might have been over the top, but her books were actually in pretty good shape. When I’d worked for my mom’s accountant the summer before, I’d seen some crazy bookkeeping methods. There were people who came in with registers where entire months’ worth of checks were missing, others who only seemed to keep their receipts on match-books or napkins. Heidi’s stuff was organized, her files made sense, and there were only a few discrepancies, all of which had happened in the last ten months or so. Maybe this shouldn’t have been a surprise to me, considering what my dad had said about her business background. But it was.

  Not shocking was the fact that at first, the office was co
mpletely distracting. I actually felt a little nauseated, sitting there, a condition exacerbated when I turned on the desk lamp, which had an orange shade and made everything seem even more radioactive. But after a few minutes with the calculator and the checkbook, it all just kind of fell away. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the simplicity of a project of numbers, how things just made sense in sums and division. No emotion, no complications. Just digits on-screen, lining up in perfect sequence.

  I was so immersed, in fact, that at first I didn’t even hear the music coming from the store behind me. It was only when it suddenly got very loud, like someone had twisted the volume from the lowest to highest setting, that it broke through the tax forms I was looking at and got my attention.

  I looked at the clock – it was 9:01 – then pushed my chair back and eased the door open. Out in the hallway, the music was positively deafening, some disco song with a fast beat, a girl’s voice chanting some lyrics about a summer crush over it. I was wondering if maybe they were having some issue with the stereo system when I saw Esther suddenly go shimmying past the jeans display, her arms waving over her head. She was followed, moments later, by Leah, doing a slow, hip-swiveling move, and then Maggie, bouncing on her tiptoes. It was like a conga line of three, passing quickly, then gone.

  I took another step forward, leaning out a bit more into the store. I couldn’t see any customers, although the boardwalk looked crowded, lots of people passing by. I’d just decided to go back to the office and wait for the silence to return when Esther popped up from behind the bathing-suit rack, this time doing a step-slide, step-slide move, her hair swinging out to the side. She reached out a hand to Leah, pulling her into view, then spinning her out and back toward her as they both laughed. Then they split, and Maggie moved in between them, shaking her hips as they circled around her, still dancing.

  I didn’t realize I was standing there just staring at them until Esther saw me. ‘Hey,’ she called out. Her cheeks were flushed. ‘It’s the nine o’clock dance. Come on.’