Searching for Selene

by Lael Littke

  Only Heather remained silent.

  What would happen to Heather if I stayed? She seemed so precariously perched on the edge of doing something that couldn't possibly bring her happiness. Would my presence push her over?

  “This is where you should be,” my mother said softly in my ear.

  Maybe. So should I stay out of obligation?

  But what about my other family who had given me so much? Wasn't I obligated to them, too?

  I cleared my throat. “I need to think about it overnight.”

  “Your other family will understand,” my mother coaxed. “You didn't ever really belong to them.”

  She was wrong there. I felt that I was the daughter of my other family as surely as if I'd been born to them. It wasn't all that simple, that they would understand if I was taken away from them.

  But I'd been taken away from the Russos, too, hadn't I?

  So to whom did I belong? What could I do to make everybody happy?

  Something Marie had said came back to me. “I couldn't plan my life to please somebody else,” she'd said. “I had to do what was best for me, the person I was.”

  So what was best for me? Who was I, anyway?

  Suddenly I visualized riding through the mountains at home with Grandpa, searching for me. For Selene. What had happened to her?

  Mother was still speaking. “You'll find new friends here, Micaela. Your church seems to mean a lot to you. It's strong here, lots of Mormons, and if you want to attend, that's your choice.”

  “Would you go with me? To church, I mean?”

  “Maybe,” Mother said. “If that would make a difference to you.”

  Would it make a difference to them? Or would they go just to please me?

  I wouldn't know until it happened.

  “Your life won't be all that different here, you see,” Mother said. “And ours will be enriched beyond description.”

  She was wrong about my life not being all that different here. It would be way different. But maybe it would work out.

  However, I couldn't make a commitment yet. “Heather said you've been reading books about my church,” I said, to change the subject.

  “We picked up a few at the library,” my mother said. “But none of them told us as much as getting to know you, Micaela.”

  So they didn't believe all that stuff Heather had been talking about. She'd just been saying those things to upset me. Or maybe hurt me.

  I needed to talk to Heather before I made any decisions.

  “Didn't I hear something about dinner being ready in half an hour?” I said. “I'm starving.”

  • • •

  Despite the tensions, we had a good time at dinner, which was lasagna and an enormous green salad. The Russos seemed determined to get me acquainted with the food of my ancestors. Back home Mom never made anything like lasagna and manicotti, although she did frequently make spaghetti because it was fast and easy. But she didn't simmer the sauce all day the way Mother did.

  As we talked, my siblings, except for Heather, seemed to make the assumption that the matter of my staying was a done deal, and they talked about all the things we would do that summer. There would be sailing and swimming on the St. Croix River, and picnics at the dozens of small lakes. There were bike paths to be ridden and art festivals to attend. There would also be keeping up the big yard, with all of us helping to mow and weed and prune.

  “Sometimes we drive up and go canoeing on the boundary waters between the U.S. and Canada,” Brittany said. “Have you ever been canoeing, Micaela?”

  I had to admit I hadn't, although I told them about the inner-tubing parties we had on Bear River.

  I also had to admit that their summer sounded exciting and fun.

  But I was needed back home. There was all the work on the farm, without Tyler to help since he'd soon be gone on his mission. Besides that, there'd be the river parties and picnics at Willow Flat and Strawberry Summit, not to mention the youth dances every other week at the stake center. There'd be the melodrama and Bryan and that onstage kiss. There'd be Lex hanging around. There'd be Mom and Dad and my forever family, whom I loved.

  There wouldn't be any more searching for Selena Marie with Grandpa.

  I wondered if she would call and talk to him again after more than fifty years. What would he say to her if she did? Would he hate her for that decision she made so long ago?

  Who would hate me for the decision I was soon going to have to make?

  After dinner Brittany, Kenyon, and Chelsea dragged me outside for a few breathless games of Hide and Seek and Kick the Can in the soft, humid twilight. I taught them how to play Run Sheep Run, one of our favorite games to play back home on moonlit summer nights.

  • • •

  I didn't have to bring up the subject of how Heather would feel about my staying because she brought it up herself. As we were getting ready for bed, she said, “So shall I assume I'm going to have a permanent roommate, Micaela? My parents are really stoked about the idea.”

  Had she deliberately said “My parents” to exclude me?

  “How would you feel if I did stay?” I asked.

  “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether you'd run a temperature about the things I do,” Heather said. “On whether you'd rat on me. On whether I'd have to apply for angelhood and lead a life as goody-goody and boring as yours.”

  “I wasn't aware my life was goody-goody and boring,” I said. “And I don't know what things you do. And I don't rat.”

  “Even if you think I'm headed down to Big H for the things I do?”

  “Like I know the things you do.”

  Heather yanked on the long T-shirt she slept in and got into bed. “You name it, I do it. Everything. It's my life. Who's it gonna hurt but me?”

  I stared at her. Where had she been for the past few hours, the past few days, when there had been so many examples of how one person's life affects others?

  I didn't say anything.

  Heather rose up on an elbow. “So aren't you shocked?”

  “No.”

  “How come? I said I did everything.”

  I had my pj's on by that time, so I got into bed and picked up my playbook from the lamp table. “Everything? You mean you feed the poor, visit the sick, volunteer at the library, and contribute to the fund for ailing aardvarks? Fine. Very commendable.”

  Now it was Heather's turn to stare. I didn't look at her, but I felt her eyes on me. To my surprise, she laughed.

  “You know, Micaela,” she said. “You have possibilities.”

  “Thank you.” I opened my playbook, knowing that Heather was still looking at me.

  “What have you done, Micaela? Have you done…” She paused, then said, “everything?” Her voice slid upward so that her meaning was unmistakable.

  “My parents would blister me,” I said.

  “So would mine, if they knew. Don't you ever sneak around?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  I thought about it. Was it just because my parents would object? Didn't I have a mind of my own? “Don't want to,” I said. “My choice. My life.”

  As I said it, I realized that it was my choice. My life. It was up to me to write the script for it. To prepare that package for the future that Marie had spoken of.

  Actually, I'd been putting that package together for years already. Why had I ever had any doubt about who I was?

  I had the feeling that Heather was searching for who she was.

  “Tell me about it,” Heather said. “Your life back there in Podunk Creek. Do you have a boyfriend?”

  Did I have a boyfriend? Was Lex a boyfriend? Was Bryan?

  I sat up, punching my pillows so I could lean back against them and look at Heather. “I'm not sure.”

  Heather looked interested. “How can you be not sure?”

  So I told her about Lex, familiar as furniture. And Bryan, who quoted poetry and whose reputation was more fantas
y than fact. “He's the hero in the melodrama I'm in,” I said. “He's really cute. There's a kiss at the end.” I felt myself blushing.

  “Big deal,” Heather said, but then her eyebrows raised. “You mean…?” Again her voice slid upward.

  I nodded. “Sweet sixteen and you know what.”

  “Never been kissed? I don't believe it!”

  “Believe it,” I said.

  “Do they keep the guys and girls in separate cages back there in your little Mormon town?” Heather rose up and sat on the edge of her bed.

  “No way,” I said. “But we don't date until we're sixteen. My first real date was three weeks ago with Lex for the prom.” I thought of my rustling, full-skirted prom dress, and the stick-on fingernails, and my hair and makeup done by Louise at the Hair and There in Prentice. A group named the Blue Whos played for the dancing, with old-time music as well as the latest. There'd been bright moonlight and the scent of the gardenia Lex had brought for me to fasten around my wrist.

  I guess something showed on my face, because Heather said softly, “Sounds like something right out of the fifties. Must have been hyper cool. No kiss at the end of the evening?”

  I remembered how Lex had lingered for a few minutes on our front porch, with me trying to make up my mind whether I wanted him to kiss me or not.

  He didn't. I think he shied out.

  “No kiss.”

  Heather flopped back down on her bed. “Wow, forget the fifties. I feel like I'm back in the days of Little Women. “She lay still for a moment, then said, “You've got so much to look forward to, Sleeping Beauty.”

  “I do.”

  “Kind of nice.” Heather touched the chain that hung around her neck and pulled out the medal that she'd always kept hidden. She fingered it thoughtfully.

  “What's that?”

  I asked. “It's my Saint medal,” she said. “I wear it all the time to…”

  When she didn't finish, I asked, “To what?”

  She shook her head.

  “It's kind of like my CTR ring,” I said. I held out my hand so she could see the ring with its intricately carved letters, CTR. “We usually get them when we're in Primary. Kids under twelve,” I explained. I hoped she wouldn't laugh.

  She didn't. Holding my hand up to the light, she examined the ring. “Pretty,” she commented. “What does CTR mean?”

  “Choose the right.”

  “Should have guessed,” Heather said with a grin.

  “It means I stand for something,” I added, then wondered if I might be overdoing it. I didn't want to give her a sermon.

  Heather let go of my hand. “You're somethin’ else, Micaela,” she said. She sat back and seemed to be thinking. “Micaela,” she said after a long pause. “I haven't really done everything.”

  I was silent.

  “Just thinking about it,” she said.

  I still didn't say anything.

  Heather turned off her light. Then she said, “You know what, Micaela? I think I'll leave something to look forward to.” After a pause she added, “Eddie's not the one for me anyway. Know what I'd like if I could build my own guy?”

  “Describe,” I said.

  Heather hesitated, then said, “This is dumb.”

  “What's dumb?”

  She giggled. “I'd like somebody who'd recite poetry to me. Some dream, huh?”

  “Nice dream,” I said.

  “Goodnight, sister.” She slid down under her covers.

  “Goodnight.” I felt as if I'd been holding my breath. Now I let it out slowly, feeling as if I had just finished a really tough scene and it had come out all right. I lay there, savoring the moment. Savoring my Mormon-ness, because that's what it came down to. I knew for sure what I was, and I liked what I was. Quietly I slipped out of bed and knelt down to talk with Heavenly Father about it.

  By the time my prayer was finished, I knew what I was going to tell Mr. and Mrs. R in the morning.

  Chapter 20

  There was, of course, no ideal solution to my problem. I couldn't wave a magic wand and make everybody totally happy. But neither could I just go my own way, as Selena Marie had done, leaving one family or the other to forever mourn my loss.

  Not that I was being critical of Selena Marie. She'd done what she had to do. And, in his own way, Grandpa had done what he'd had to do.

  I guess you could say I was going to do what I had to do too, now that I had sorted through who and what I was.

  And so the next morning around the breakfast table, over French toast and my mom's homemade choke-cherry jelly, I told my Minnesota family that I was going back to Idaho the next morning, as originally planned.

  My mother put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Micaela,” she said.

  “I have to be there for Tyler's missionary farewell,” I hurried to say. “And to help with the early summer farm work and do my part in the melodrama, which will go on in six weeks.” I cleared my throat and looked directly at my mother and father. “But I have a suggestion. Since you've got a vacation coming up, I'd really like all of you to come out and share in some of these things, and get to know my other family.”

  Brittany spoke up immediately. “Can we ride the horses?”

  “All over the place,” I said.

  I saw my mother look at my father, then shake her head.

  “It's not enough, Micaela,” she said flatly.

  “I'd really like for you to come see me in the play,” I persisted. “You said you always go to see the games and performances the other kids are in.” I cleared my throat again, nervous that they might not go for what I was saying. “Then I'd like to return here with you and stay until school starts. I'd like to share in the things you'll be doing for the rest of the summer.”

  My mother looked again at my father, this time for what seemed like several minutes. They came to some kind of unspoken understanding, the way my mom and dad in Idaho frequently did.

  “Share seems to be the key word,” my father said. “Sharing you with your other family. Sharing your time. Is this what will make you happy, Micaela?”

  “Yes,” I said fervently. “Oh, yes.”

  They looked at each other again. Then my mother said, “We love you, Micaela. If that's what you want, that's what we'll try to do.”

  It was almost exactly the same thing Mom and Dad had said to me the night I'd told them I was going to visit my birth family. I thought of the demonstration my Laurel leader had done at the last Young Women's meeting I'd attended, how she had put us inside the circle of that long elastic band to show the amazing power of love, how it could stretch to include us all.

  “It won't be easy,” my father said. “But we'll take it a step at a time.”

  Line upon line, precept upon precept. I'd heard the quote from Isaiah many times, but I'd never before really applied it to my life. Little by little, I could learn to do this thing, this sharing of myself with two families. I could patch my two selves together, one small stitch at a time.

  Brittany, Kenyon, and Chelsea were excitedly questioning our parents about whether they really, really, really could go to visit me in Idaho and see the mountains and the inner-tubing river and Hoover and Grandpa's old horse, Vinegar.

  Heather leaned close to me and whispered, “Does Tyler have a girlfriend?”

  “No,” I whispered back. “But he's going to Romania on his mission, and it's two years of keeping girls at arm's length.”

  Heather shrugged. “I could write letters.” She gave me a little sideways look. “Are there other guys out there in Idaho?”

  “Lots. I'll make sure you meet some of them.” She wanted to meet a really nice guy.

  Maybe I would introduce her to Lex. Or maybe to Bryan.

  Or maybe neither.

  • • •

  Before we made any definite plans, my father set up a conference call to my Idaho parents, and we all talked together. Mom and Dad were excited about the prospects of a visit. They agreed that I could return afterward
to Minnesota with the Russos, and it was only then that I realized how apprehensive they'd been that I might have chosen to stay (or been forced to stay) in St. Paul. The dates for the visit were set, and the first line, the first precept, the first small step of this big project we had ahead of us, was accomplished.

  My final day in St. Paul passed quickly. My father stayed home from work and we spent the whole day as a family, doing everything from playing dominoes (Chelsea's favorite game) to reading all but the last few pages of my melodrama aloud, just so I'd be at least a little prepared for the rehearsal on Saturday. Brittany objected when I closed the book before the ending.

  “How come?” she said. “I want to find out whether Astrid or Zorina gets the guy.”

  I held the playbook away from her. “You'll find out when you come to see me in the show. I don't want to ruin the suspense.”

  “Either way,” Heather said, “it's Micaela who gets to kiss the hero at the end.”

  “Yuck,” said Kenyon.

  And I thought again of that impending first kiss. It would be part of the play, but it would still be my first real kiss.

  • • •

  Too soon, it seemed, it was time to head to the airport for the trip back to Salt Lake City and on to Idaho. Too soon I had to part again from a family I loved.

  But on the other end of the journey was another family I loved. It seemed as if the waiting room at the airport was full of people who had come to see me. They held up a big computer-made banner that said, “Welcome home, Selene.”

  I was surprised that the name jolted me just a little bit after I'd been Micaela for a while. That was another of those adjustments I would have to make. I was Selene, but a changed version. New and improved, maybe? I hoped they would still love me.

  Mom and Dad rushed forward to hug me, crying so much that I might well have been back with my more emotional Minnesota family. Tyler and Keith were there, and even Naomi and Robert and little Jeddy, who chortled and crowed when he saw me. Grandpa limped forward to greet me and whisper in my ear, “Selena Marie called me. We caught up on a lot of things. I found the ring in the bottom of that bottle.”

  “Good.” I smiled at him. “How's your foot, Grandpa?