Ann Martin - Shannon's Story

I made another cup of cafe au lait (mostly au lait) and headed out to the garden.

"Hi," I said. "How does your garden grow?"

Tiffany sat back on her heels and looked up at me with glowing eyes. "Look! The peas are coming up, just like it said in the book," she said. She pointed to a row of tiny pale green bean-sprout-looking things, just breaking the soil. Or I guess I mean pea sprouts.

"That's great, Tiffany," I said. "How long before we have peas?"

"This kind will make peas in forty days, this kind in forty-eight days," Tiffany said. "And

I put another row of the same in over there a week later so we'll have a long pea season. I love fresh peas, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah," I said.

"They're very sweet," said Tiffany. "This kind is called sugar snap. You can eat the peas and the pod!"

I wondered if Claudia had heard of sugar snap peas, and how they would rate on her junk food chart.

"You're turning into quite a gardener," I said. "Mom said her grandmother used to like to garden and had a real green thumb."

"Our great-grandmother? Maybe I inherited it from her," said Tiffany, looking even more pleased.

"Didn't Mom tell you that when you started working on your garden?"

Tiffany shook her head. "She just told me to be careful not to dig up the roses. As if I couldn't see a bunch of big, thorny rosebushes! Sometimes Mom treats me like a little kid."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," I said.

Picking up her trowel, Tiffany said invitingly, "You want to help? I'm digging manure in for tomato plants. Tomatoes are heavy feeders and need lots of nourishment."

"Manure? Um, no thanks," I said. "Maybe some other time."

"Okay." Tiffany went back to her gardening. As I left, I heard her begin to whistle tunelessly.

The sun felt good on my face. I sat on the back step while I finished my coffee and watched Tiffany work. Rule #2 about free time (right after rule #1, Do Nothing) is that free time feels even better if you are doing nothing and watching someone else work. Rule #2A is that the work has to be work you don't feel guilty about not doing yourself or helping to do.

I enjoyed rules #1-2A until the sun was high overhead and I heard Mom's car pull into the driveway. I got up and went into the kitchen and began to rinse my cup and breakfast things to put into the dishwasher.

"How'd it go?" I called.

"Maria's team won/' said my mother's voice and a moment later she appeared in the kitchen door.

"Another victory for SDS Junior Swim Team," I said. "Where's Maria? I want to hear a splash-by-splash."

"Maria's freestyle relay came in third in one of the events," said my mother. "She and her teammates decided to stay after the meet and get some extra practice in. Something about faster starts."

"Oh," was all I could think of to say.

"Anybody call?" asked Mom.

Was she thinking about my father? I shook my head. It was hard to read my mother's expression.

"What about some lunch?" she said. "Watching all that swimming made me hungry."

"I've been goofing off all morning," I confessed. "And I'm hungry, too."

We made sandwiches and salads and Mom went out to get Tiffany. A few minutes later she returned, looking puzzled.

"Tiffany said she can't leave her garden right now."

"Won't," I said. "She's really into it."

Mom smiled. "She is, isn't she? It's nice to be so involved in something."

I wondered if Tiff wasn't getting a little too involved in her garden, but I didn't say anything. Instead, I poured out some seltzer and lime for Mom and some cola for me.

We ate in silence for a little while. Then Mom said, "Have some salad, Shannon. It's good for you."

"I don't want any, thanks," I said.

"Why don't you like salad?"

"I do like salad," I said, beginning to feel annoyed. "But I don't want any right now. I had breakfast just a little while ago."

"It's important for a growing girl to get

her vitamins," Mom said. She picked up the salad bowl and scooped some salad out onto my plate. "And you shouldn't have slept so late."

"Hey," I protested, stung by the criticism. "It's my free time. I work hard and I earned it and I can spend it sleeping late if I want to!"

"And 1 don't work hard?" retorted my mom, her lips getting thin.

"I didn't say that," I answered.

"Eat your salad." Maybe ordering me around was Mom's idea of hard work.

"No, thank you," I said, shoving the salad to one side with my fork. I must have pushed it a little more energetically than I meant to, because some of the salad fell off the plate and scattered on the table.

"Shannon!" said my mother.

"It's not my fault!" I could hear the whine in my voice and I began to get really steamed. I couldn't believe it. She was treating me like a child and I was starting to act like one, which made me even angrier. At least I didn't say, "You started it."

"Fine," snapped my mother. "Don't eat your salad."

"I won't," I snapped back.

We finished lunch in angry silence.

I cleared off the table (rattling the dishes

more than I needed to, I confess) and my mother picked up her purse from the table by the door.

"I've got some errands to do/' she said. "Do we need anything from the grocery store?"

"Salad dressing/' I said before I could stop myself.

My mother's lips tightened, but she didn't say anything. She just left.

And left me feeling like a jerk.

What had just happened? I couldn't figure it out. The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. When had Mom gotten so picky? So touchy? Oh, well.

I resolved to apologize to Mom the moment she got home. And to make it up to her by being extra nice.

My father got home before my mother did.

"Hey, everybody!" he called. By that time, I'd staked out the corner of the sofa in the den and was watching an old movie called An American in Paris.

"Hi, Dad," I called.

"Where is everybody?" he said, coming in to sit down next to me.

I kept my eyes on the movie. "Maria is at a post-swim meet practice and Tiffany's in her garden."

The people on the screen began to dance and sing.

My father cleared his throat. "Oh."

"Mom's shopping," I added, still keeping my eyes on the dancing, singing people.

"Oh," said my father again. "Er . . . what meet? What garden?"

That got my attention.

"Maria's swim meet!" I said, staring at him. It was so weird. For a moment, just for a moment, he didn't look like my father. Just a tall man in a cotton sweater and chinos and loafers.

Some stranger. Some stranger who didn't know me or Tiffany or Maria at all.

"Maria's on the swim team at school, Dad," I said. "She practices after school practically every day."

"I knew that," said my dad.

But did he?

"And Tiffany started a garden. In the backyard. Haven't you seen it?"

"No. I mean, not exactly."

He sounded just like me when I didn't know the answer to a question when a teacher called on me at school.

We looked at each other for a long moment. Then my father cleared his throat again and bounded up. "Better go get changed," he said and charged out of the room.

Changed into what, I wondered. He's already changed so much. I could understand

his not knowing, maybe, about one of Maria's swim meets.

But how could he not have noticed a whole garden in the backyard?

Feeling confused and grumpy, I turned my attention back to the singing, dancing people. Paris, I reminded myself. Think about Paris.

My mother came home from shopping and danced into the den just as the movie came to an end. It was a pretty good movie.

"Hi, Shanny," she sang out. I made a face at the baby name I'd asked her not to call me at least a million times, but I didn't say anything.

"Hi, Mom. Dad's home."