Ward squinted at her appraisingly, still from the safety of the car and then laughed. “Just tell people she's your niece.” He looked gently at his wife then. “She's going to be a beauty one day.”
“I'll be too old and senile by then to appreciate it.”
“Just let her be.” He always said that. It was his answer to everything, except Lionel of course. In Lionel's case, he always had to be told, reprimanded, made to conform. Ward expected everything from him. Always too much, according to Faye. Ward had never been able to understand how different the boy was, how creative he was, how sensitive, how totally other were his needs. But Val … she was something else … headstrong, demanding, belligerent. She was surely their most difficult child … or was it Anne, so constantly withdrawn? … sometimes Faye couldn't decide which was worse. But as she stepped out of the car, Vanessa came bounding toward her with that clear, easy smile, and she decided to be grateful for the easy one today. It was simpler that way. She told her how pretty she looked, put an arm around her and kissed her cheek.
“Your brother's going to be so proud of you.”
“You mean Alice in Wonderland here?” Val sauntered up, seething inwardly as she noticed her mother's arm around her twin, she had been watching intently when she kissed Vanessa's cheek. “Don't you think she's a little old for that look?” Valerie was everything mod, and in contrast, Vanessa looked like innocence itself. And now that she had approached, Faye could see a thick black line on Val's upper eyelid that made her physically cringe.
“Sweetheart, why don't you take some of that makeup off before we go? It's a little early in the day for all that, isn't it?” It was easier to blame it on the hour, rather than her age. Fifteen seemed more than a little young for Cleopatra eyes to Faye, and this sort of thing had never been her style anyway. But Valerie had adopted absolutely none of her mother's ways, or Ward's. She seemed to have her own ideas about everything, and God only knew where they came from, surely not from any of them, she told herself. She was straight out of a teenage movie about Hollywood, with some of its worst features exaggerated until her mother wanted to scream. But Faye attempted to remain calm now, as Val stood in front of her and visibly dug in her little green heels.
“It took a lot of time to put this on, Mother. And I'm not taking it off now.” “Make me” were the only words she forgot to add, and Faye wasn't sure she could have anyway,
“Be reasonable, sweetheart. It looks a little overdone.”
“Who says?”
“Come on, squirt, go take that shit off.” Greg had bounded out, wearing khaki slacks and a blue oxford shirt, a tie that was more than slightly askew and looked as though it might have spent the night under the bed for several years. His loafers were all banged up, and his hair wasn't quite lying down the way he wanted it to. But despite his obvious contrast to his father's far more debonair style, he was clearly a carbon copy of him, and Faye smiled as he glanced at Val with a shrug, “it really looks dumb.” But his words only enraged Val more.
“Mind your own business … you're nothing but a dumb jock anyway.”
“Well, I can tell you one thing. I wouldn't go out with a girl with all that goop on her face.” He looked her over and it was obvious that he didn't approve. “And your dress is too tight. It makes your boobs stick out.” She blushed faintly but was instantly furious with him. She had wanted them to, but she didn't want her hateful brother to point it out. “Makes you look like a tart.” He said it matter-of-factly but her eyes flew open wide and she took a swing at him, just as Ward came out of the house again and shouted at them both.
“Hey, you two! Behave! This is your brother's graduation day.”
“He called me a tart!” Valerie was furious with him, and Vanessa looked bored. They went through it all the time, and she secretly thought he was right, not that that would influence Valerie anyway. She was so headstrong and determined, she'd do exactly what she wanted anyway, or make their lives miserable for the rest of the day. They'd all been through it before, at least ten thousand times, with her.
“She looks like one, doesn't she, Dad?” Greg was defending himself against her ferocious swing, and standing nearby, Faye heard the wrinkled blue oxford shirt rip.
“Stop it!” It was useless, and they exhausted her when they behaved like this. They usually did it when she was bone-tired, after a bad day on the set. Gone were the days of quietly reading them stones at night by the fire, but she hadn't been home for most of that anyway. The baby-sitters and the maids had taken her place over the years, and sometimes she wondered if this was the price she had paid for it. There were times when they were completely out of control, like now. But Ward stepped in and grabbed Val's arm, speaking to her firmly in a voice that quieted her down.
