Stevens Chevy: Never Knowing

“I didn’t say that, Melanie.”

“ Unfuckingbelievable . Kyle’s band’s gotten really good and he’s willing to do this nice thing for you, but you’re going to say no?” Before I could respond, Melanie shook her head and said, “I told you she’d shut it down, Lauren.” I said, “You’ve already talked about it?”

Lauren said, “No, well, just a little. Melanie mentioned last night that Kyle could use the exposure, and—”

“And you said he could probably meet some people at the wedding,” Melanie said. “You said it would be a good opportunity for him.”

My face felt hot and my pulse sped up. Melanie wanted to use my wedding as an audition for her boyfriend? And Lauren gave her the idea?

Lauren said, “But I didn’t know if Sara already had other plans.”

“She doesn’t ,” Melanie said. “It’s just because she doesn’t like Kyle.”

Melanie stared at me, her chin out, daring me to deny it. I wanted to tell her exactly what I thought: He’s not good enough for you and he sure as hell isn’t good enough to play at my wedding. But I counted to ten, took a couple of deep breaths, and said, “I’ll think about it, okay?” Melanie said, “Suuuure you will.”

“You will. Right, Sara?” Lauren’s face was pleading as she looked at me, worried there was going to be a fight. And there was going to be a big one if I didn’t get out of there fast.

“Right. I should get going.” I stood up.

Lauren said, “You can’t stay for a coffee?” I knew she wanted me to stay so we could work everything out, or at least pretend nothing was wrong, but if I heard one more thing out of Melanie’s mouth I was going to blow up. I forced a smile.

“Sorry, I have to get Ally. Next time, okay?”

I didn’t look at Melanie as I walked out.

That night I tossed and turned. Finally I got up and made notes — the only way I could calm down. First item was to call Lauren in the morning and apologize for leaving so abruptly. Then I wrote a letter to Melanie, saying all the things I’d wanted to tell her earlier but never would. Four years of therapy and I’d finally learned how to manage my anger — counting to ten, writing letters, leaving a room to cool off — but Melanie could push my buttons faster than anyone. I hated how quickly she could make me lose my temper. How out-of-control I felt when I did. But mostly I just felt sad. I’d loved her so much when she was little, loved how she looked up to me and followed me everywhere. Then I lost her in the mall when she was four.

We were Christmas shopping and Dad told me to watch her while he went into a store. Melanie wanted to walk around, but I knew Dad would be furious if we moved an inch, so I held on to the back of her coat. The tighter I gripped, the harder she fought, pulling and clawing at me, until she broke away and ran into a crowd of shoppers. The next twenty minutes were the most terrifying of my life. I started screaming her name frantically. Dad came running out of the store, his face white. When we finally found her — playing on a mechanical pony — Dad dragged me to the parking lot and spanked me behind his truck. I still remember trying to break away from him, crying so hard I could barely breathe, his hand coming down again and again.

Most of my worst childhood memories are of my getting into trouble because of Melanie. One Halloween Lauren and I were dressing up as cheerleaders. Melanie wanted the same costume, but we had only made two, so I told her she could be a princess. She grabbed my pom-poms and ran out of the room, saying she was going to throw them in the fire. I chased her, slipped in the hallway, knocked over a lamp, and broke the shade. When I told Dad, he was furious — not because of the lamp but because I should have included Melanie. I wasn’t allowed to go trick-or-treating, and he let Melanie wear my costume. The worst part was he made me walk with them from house to house. I still remember watching Melanie skip up to the door in the costume I’d spent weeks making, the little skirt swinging with each step, my heart breaking when people told her how cute she looked.

When we hit our twenties — and neither of us was living at home — we started getting along better. After I had Ally, Melanie would come over sometimes and hang out, watching movies with me, laughing and eating popcorn. It was great, like we were finally sisters. We still argued once in a while, but the only times we really fought were if I tried to give her advice about her friends or some of the guys she was seeing. When she started dating Kyle I told her I was worried he might be using her because she worked at a bar. She flipped out and we didn’t speak for a while. Then I met Evan and Dad began inviting us over for dinner — he only called when Evan was home — and arranging family brunches and barbecues.

Melanie missed a lot of these dinners because she was working, but when she did make it to one, she started taking shots at me — especially if her boyfriend was there. I didn’t know if she was just pissed off that Dad liked Evan more than Kyle, or because I didn’t like Kyle either, but she was hell-bent on making me look bad. And if I did lose my temper, Dad would come down hard on me and wouldn’t say squat to Melanie. The more I tried not to react, the harder she hit. Now anytime we talked about the wedding it felt like a setup for a fight.

Lauren always ended up in the middle and I knew she was probably feeling awful about what had happened earlier, which made me feel awful. But guilt still gnawed at me for another reason, and I made a note to remind her not to tell anyone about my birth father.

The next morning I slept late and ended up rushing around to get Ally off to school. Then a client called and needed an emergency repair on a hall stand that was going into an antique show. I never did get a chance to call Lauren, and I collapsed into bed swearing I’d deal with it the next day. But I didn’t, and as the days turned into a week I slid back into a depression.

The simplest task seemed insurmountable and my body ached all over. Even the idea of going to therapy was exhausting. So I slept too much, ate too much, and stayed on the couch all afternoon watching movies. I had to force myself out for walks with Moose, steering him away from his preferred path through the woods to the safer, more populated nearby park. Usually I love watching him chasing bunnies all over the fairgrounds, the earthy scent of hay and animals still lingering in the air. But now the buildings just looked old and abandoned as my feet slogged through puddles.

The only other times I dragged myself out were for Ally, using any energy I had left to hide what I was feeling. But I didn’t do a very good job. One day we were driving home in a downpour, not unusual for March, or any month on the coast, but it added to my already dismal mood. We stopped at a red light and I was staring out the windshield.

Ally said, “Why are you sad, Mommy?”

“Mommy’s not feeling well, honey.”

“I’ll take care of you,” she said. She was so sweet that night, trying to make me soup and telling Moose he had to be quiet. She also spent the night in my bed. We snuggled together as she read me stories, lending me her favorite Barbie for comfort, the rain pattering against the window. The next morning I finally called Lauren to apologize for leaving so fast, but she beat me to it.

“I’m sorry I said anything to Melanie about Kyle playing at the wedding, Sara. But you two are always fighting and it makes it hard to say anything to either of you.”

“Melanie drives me nuts.”

“I wish you two weren’t so jealous of each other.”

“I’m not jealous of her, I just hate that she gets away with everything.”