Chapter 38 Edge of Seventeen
Edge of Seventeen
Searching through the records for the one I want, I come across Mom’s favorite.
Joni Mitchell’s Blue. I take it from the shelf and examine it.
The record falls to the floor from a worn jacket that can no longer contain it.
In an instant, I’m overcome with a strong memory—Mom crying to this record as she prepared our meals, cleaned the apartment, or just sat with a cup of coffee.
I know every word of it; I’ve heard it so much.
It’s funny how when I was little, I didn’t like Mom’s music, but as I got older, it became my music too.
I rejected the current music other kids listened to and found myself gravitating back to Mom’s music from the sixties, seventies and eighties.
Now I’m obsessed with it. I return Joni to the shelf and continue searching for the one I want. Ah, here it is.
I pull out the record and put it on the turntable.
At least they upgraded to a nice new turntable instead of the old, crappy, suitcase-style player from their teenage years.
I flip the record to the B side, put the needle on the first track, and crank the volume.
The unmissable chugging of a sixteenth-note guitar riff rips through our apartment.
Stevie Nicks’ smoky voice rasps of white-winged doves and the innocence of seventeen.
Carole flies out of her bedroom, clasping her bathrobe.
“What the hell! Simon, the neighbors are going to call the police.”
She rushes to the turntable and turns the volume down to a whisper.
“What time is it? What are you thinking?”
I shrug my shoulders and give Carole a mischievous grin. She collapses onto the couch and laughs.
“Aren’t you the clever one? Happy early birthday, Little Bug. Edge of seventeen, my ass! Ha! What time is it? I had my alarm set for 7:30 a.m.”
“It’s seven. What time do we need to leave?”
“Sooner rather than later. It’s not a bad thing you got me up early. I’m mostly packed. I just need to freshen up a bit, and we can be on our way. Have you picked out where you would like to go for your pre-birthday breakfast?”
“I have. Let’s go to Silver Diner. I might get a black and white milkshake. And don’t say anything negative, it’s my birthday, and you’re skipping town on me. This means I can have a milkshake for breakfast.”
Carole throws up her arms in defeat. “I’m not saying a word.
Great choice for a restaurant, though. Silver Diner won’t take us out of the way as we head toward the airport.
We should have plenty of time for a nice leisurely breakfast.” She ruffles my hair on her way back to her bedroom.
“Time for another haircut for you. These curls are out of control again. Oh, and don’t forget to keep the volume down, please.
I know you’re excited for your birthday, but we don’t need the neighbors knocking on our door. ”
Back in her room, I hear water tapping on tile from beneath the crack of the closed door. Carole is in the shower. Sammy appears from the kitchen and joins me on the couch. He settles into my lap as we listen to Stevie sing us into the still of the night of the next song.
The alien churns in my stomach as I rock back and forth with the music.
Sammy leaps off me, unhappy with my restlessness.
“No!” I whisper out loud. “Leave me alone! Tonight is my night with PJ. The whole night. No chaperones, just him and me. We’re going to do it, just like in the movies!
We’re going to have sex and then fall asleep in each other’s arms. Give me one more reprieve like you did when Mom died. Give me tonight. Please.”
“Blow out the candle and make a wish!” Carole looks at me expectantly.
Wax runs down the candle as I overthink my wish.
I blow out what’s left of the candle sticking out of my pancake stack.
There’s only one wish to be made—peace. Peace, tonight, from the alien.
Peace so I can enjoy my evening with PJ.
After my birthday, the alien can go back to tormenting me.
After my birthday, I can die happy. I know my time is growing short.
“I promised not to say anything, but Simon, you’re going to rot your teeth out with all that sugar. Pancakes and a milkshake for breakfast? How do you stomach it?”
“Perfectly well,” I say, stuffing pancakes, syrup, and whipped cream into my mouth.
Carole laughs and shakes her head as she takes another bite of her mushroom and egg white omelet with fresh fruit cup. Food seems to keep the alien docile, and, by God, I’m going to enjoy these birthday pancakes. Maybe I’ll OD on sugar today and go out with a bang before the alien can get me.
“Well, we should speed things up here and get going,” Carole says, interrupting my manic thoughts. “They say you should be at the airport at least two hours before your flight leaves. If you see the waiter, try to flag him down so we can get the check.”
“Sure thing,” I say as I resume obsessing over tonight. This is supposed to be the most special night of my young life so far. Why am I so worried?
As I drive Carole to Dulles Airport for her trip west to visit her parents, my thoughts wander to a topic that has heavily weighed on my mind recently—my future.
I can’t help wondering if I made the right decision about who I should live with.
On one hand, Dad is…my dad, and he is finally making an effort to be a parent to me.
On the other, Carole has tangibly been there to help me with homework, cook meals, and all the day-to-day stuff that goes into being a parent.
But she is not my birth mother, and I have so much lost time to make up with Dad.
I hope I made the right choice. Yes! I think I did.
Feeling good about my decision, I turn up the volume as we continue listening to Stevie Nicks sing “Edge of Seventeen’’ on repeat.
“Simon, how many times are you going to play this song? Let’s listen to the rest of the album.”
“Nope,” I say. “I’m only on the edge of seventeen once.”
“Ugh! You certainly are your mother’s son, aren’t you? Just as stubborn.”
“Yep,” I reply. “This song will be on repeat until midnight when I actually turn seventeen.”
“So, you already know your mom’s first crush was Lindsay Wagner.
Did you know mine was Stevie Nicks? Oh, how I loved the Welsh witch!
The way she twirled in shawls with her half-moon tambourine.
Woo wee. She was, for sure, my awakening.
And she’s still got it too! Have you seen her lately?
Wow, she is stunning.” Carole fans herself with her book.
“Eww!” I mock-gag and she bats me on the shoulder with her book.
“Okay, tough guy. Who was your awakening?”
“Carole! That’s personal!” I say, pretending to be scandalized.
“Oh, come on. Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Well, if I have to choose, it’s definitely Tom Holland. You know, Spiderman.”
“Good choice,” Carole says. “He’s a cutie.”
It’s weird talking about crushes with Carole but it’s nice too. Carole is a mother to me, but she is also my friend. It’s truly hitting me now just how lucky I am to have her in my life.
“Carole?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Something’s been on my mind.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“There’s a question that I can’t stop thinking about.”
“Of course, Simon. Ask away.”
“All right. Here goes. What was so important about Mom’s job?” I add air quotes around the word “important.” “It’s all I ever heard: the lab, the lab, the lab.”
Carole casts a nervous glance my way.
“She’s doing important work, you said. We have to be supportive, you insisted. But what was it all about? What kind of lab was it anyway?”
“Oh, Simon.” She exhales a long, defeated breath.
“I guess it doesn’t matter now.” Carole pauses and the anticipation of what comes next gnaws at me like a dog on a bone.
“I don’t know what she did. Her work was classified, and she couldn’t even tell me about it.
That’s about as much as I know. But there was no lab.
That was just the cover story we agreed to tell everyone.
I’m so sorry, Simon, I should have told you sooner. ”
I gape in disbelief. What else don’t I know about my mom? I swallow hard and turn from Carole, staring at the passing high-rises along the airport toll road. We don’t speak for the rest of the drive.
We pull up to airport departures, and I get out of the car to give Carole a hug.
“Hey, there’s no need to get out,” Carole says.
“I only have this small duffel bag and my book. I can manage. I’m only gone a few nights.
I love my parents, but I can only stand them for so long, you know.
When I get back, we will have a second birthday celebration. Maybe even include your dad and Sarah.”
“Carole, I didn’t get out of the car to help you with your bag. I got out to give you a hug and this.” I pull from my pocket the small card I’ve been hiding in my book since Hanukkah. “This is for you. Open it after the plane takes off.”
“Well, this is very mysterious,” Carole says, her curiosity piqued. “I will, I promise. Have a very happy seventeenth birthday and I promise we will celebrate properly when I get back from Portland. I’m trusting you to make smart decisions while I’m gone. I love you.”
I give Carole a hug and watch her disappear into the terminal and the crowds of fellow travelers.
I get back in the car and start the drive back home.
“Edge of Seventeen” resumes playing through the car speakers.
I am keeping this on repeat. But… I lean forward and press the button, advancing to the next track.