House Rules Read online

  --Well,|| Jacob said. --Jess and I haven't quite worked that out yet.||

  I could see why Jess had suggested it: the photographs, the dancing, the table conversation--all of these were skills he needed to know. I agreed with her, but I also didn't want to see Jacob hurt. What if no one he asked would go with him?

  Don't think I'm a bad mother; I'm just a realistic one. I knew that Jacob was handsome, funny, and so smart it sometimes left me reeling. It was hard, though, for others to see him in that light. To them, he just seemed odd.

  That night, I went into Jacob's room. The pleasure of seeing him excited for once about initiating a social interaction was tempered by the thought of a string of girls laughing in his face. --So,|| I said, sitting down on the edge of his bed. I waited for him to put down his reading material--the Journal of Forensic Sciences. --The prom, huh?||

  --Yes,|| he said. --Jess thinks it's a good idea.||

  --How about you? Do you think it's a good idea?||

  Jacob shrugged. --I guess. But I'm a little worried ...||

  I seized on this. --About what?||

  --My date's dress,|| Jacob said. --If it's orange, I don't think I could deal with it.||

  A smile tugged at my mouth. --Trust me. No girl wears orange to a prom.|| I picked at a thread on his blanket. --Is there any particular girl you're thinking of asking?||

  --No.||

  --No?||

  --That way I won't be disappointed,|| he said, matter-of-fact.

  I hesitated. --I think it's terrific that you're trying this. And even if it doesn't work out--||

  --Mom,|| Jacob interrupted, --of course it will work out. There are 402 girls in my school. Assuming that one of them finds me remotely attractive, the probability of getting one of them to say yes is statistically in my favor.||

  As it was, he had to ask only 83. One finally said yes--Amanda Hillerstein, who had a younger brother with Down syndrome and was kindhearted enough to see past Jacob's Asperger's, at least for one night.

  What ensued was a two-week crash course in prom etiquette. Jess worked with Jacob to make small talk during dinner. (Appropriate: Are you visiting colleges this summer? Inappropriate: Did you know there's a place in Tennesseecalled the Body Farm where you can study how corpses decay? ) Me, I worked with him on everything else. We practiced how to walk close to a girl instead of keeping a full foot of space between you.

  We practiced how to look at the camera when someone takes your photograph. We practiced how to ask your date if she'd like to dance, although Jacob drew the line at slow dancing (--Do I really have to touch her?||).

  The day leading up to the prom, a thousand pitfalls raced through my head. Jacob had never worn a tuxedo; what if the bow tie aggravated him and he refused to put it on?

  He hated to bowl because he disliked the thought of putting his feet in shoes that had housed someone else's feet moments before. What if he pitched a fit about his rented patent leather loafers for the same reason? What if the prom decorating committee had not gone with an under the sea theme, like they'd planned, but a disco party instead--with flashing lights and mirrored balls that would overstimulate Jacob's senses? What if Amanda wore her hair loose, and Jacob took one look at her and ran back up to his room?

  Amanda, bless her heart, had offered to drive since Jacob couldn't. She pulled up in her Jeep Cherokee at 7:00 on the dot. Jacob was waiting for her with a wrist corsage he'd picked out at the florist that afternoon. He'd been standing at the window, watching, since 6:00.

  Jess had come over with a video camera to record the event for posterity. We all held our breath as Amanda stepped out of her car in a long peach gown.

  --You said she wouldn't wear orange,|| Jacob whispered.

  --It's peach,|| I corrected.

  --It's in the orange family, || he said, all he had time for before she knocked. Jacob yanked the door open. --You look beautiful,|| he announced, just like we'd practiced.

  When I took their picture on the front lawn, Jacob even looked at the camera. It remains, to this day, the only photo I have of him where he's doing that. I admit, I cried a little as I watched him extend his crooked elbow to escort his date to her car. Could I have asked for a better outcome? Could Jacob have done a finer job of remembering every lesson we'd worked on so diligently?

  Jacob opened Amanda's door and then walked around to the passenger side.

  Oh no, I thought.

  --We totally forgot about that,|| Jess said.

  And sure enough, Jess and I watched Jacob slide into his usual position in a car, the backseat.

  Theo

  --This is it,|| I say, and my mother pulls the car over in front of some random house I've never seen before.

  --When do you want me to come get you?|| she asks.

  --I don't know. I'm not sure how long it's going to take us to write up the lab report,|| I say.

  --Well, you have your cell phone. Call me.|| I nod and get out of the car. --Theo!|| she yells. --Aren't you forgetting something?||

  A backpack. If I'm doing schoolwork with an imaginary lab partner, I should at least be smart enough to carry a freaking notebook.

  --Leon's got everything,|| I say. --It's on his computer.||

  She peers over my shoulder to the front door of the house. --Are you sure he's expecting you? It doesn't look like anyone's home.||

  --Mom, I told you. I talked to Leon ten minutes before we left the house. I'm supposed to go in the back door. Relax, okay?||

  --Make sure you're polite,|| she says, as I shut the car door. --Please and thank--||

  You, I mutter under my breath.

  I start up the driveway and along a path that leads around the house. I have just turned the corner when I hear my mother pull away.

  Of course it looks like there's no one here. I planned it that way.

  I don't have a lab report to do. I don't even know anyone named Leon.

  This is a new neighborhood for me. A lot of professors who work at UVM live here.

  The houses are old and have little brass plaques on them with the years they were built. The really cool thing about old houses is that they have crappy locks. You can jimmy them open most of the time with a credit card slipped in the right way. I don't have a credit card, but my school ID works just as well.

  I know that no one's home because there aren't any footprints on the driveway after last night's snow--something my mother didn't notice. On the porch, I kick the snow off my sneakers and walk inside. The house smells like old people--oatmeal and mothballs.

  There's a cane propped inside the entryway, too. But--weird--there's also a Gap hoodie hanging up. Maybe their granddaughter left it behind.

  Like last time, I go to the kitchen first.

  The first thing I see is a bottle of red wine on the counter. It's about half full. I pop the cork and take a swig, and nearly spit the shit out all over the countertop. How come people drink if it tastes like this? Wiping my mouth, I rummage through the pantry for something to make me forget the taste of the wine, and find a box of crackers. I rip it open and eat a few. Then I check out the contents of the fridge and make myself a Black Forest ham and sage-cheddar sandwich on a baguette. No ham and cheese for this house. It's even too fancy for good ol' yellow mustard--I have to use champagne mustard instead, whatever that is. For a second I worry it will taste like the wine, but if there's alcohol in it, you could have fooled me.

  Trailing crumbs, I walk into the living room. I haven't taken my sneakers off, so I'm leaving behind a trail of melting snow, too. I pretend I'm superhuman. I can see through walls; I can hear a pin drop. Nobody could ever take me by surprise.

  The living room is exactly what you'd be expecting. Couches with crackly leather and stacks of paper everywhere, so many dusty books that even though I don't have asthma I feel it coming on.

  A woman and a man live here. I can tell because there are books on gardening and little glass bottles lined up on the mantel. I wonder if they sit in this room and