Thank you, by the way. My mom gave me the other stuff, too. The booties are so little, I can’t believe I was ever that small. The fob chain is cool—did it belong to my father? And did you embroider the rainbow on the handkerchief? Now I know how I got my name. My parents say I am the defender of our culture, the repository of stories, but ever since the accident, I feel more like a bridge between two worlds. Maybe yours and mine.
Your letter was nice, but you sound sad. I hope you have found happiness over the years. You know what they say about time. It heals all wounds.
Love,
Rainbow Warrior
I didn’t have time to read the rest of the letters—I would do that soon enough—but I noticed a newspaper article paper clipped to the back of the envelope. The headline read, “LOCAL WHITE PLAINS HEALER FIXES THOSE THAT WESTERN MEDICINE CANNOT.” A healer? That could be just what I needed, but the article covered what I wanted most of all: a current address in White Plains, New York. Instinctively wanting her to be close to me, and maybe wanting her to be close to my sickness, I folded the newspaper article and tucked it in my front pocket, makeshift kryptonite for my growing tumor.
I raced down the stairwell, clutching the only evidence I had that my sister existed. Reading her words was like hearing my own voice, and because she was such a gift, I decided to treat her letters like dessert—I would save them for special moments, and try not to partake in too many too fast.
I wondered who was right: my mother or my sister? Was it time that healed all wounds, or family? I didn’t have much of the former, so I was banking on the latter.
I suddenly realized Dr. Harris had been wrong, that my mother couldn’t give me what I was looking for. She gave me something I didn’t even know I needed—hope.
Tick. Tock.
New York, here I come.
TWENTY-FOUR
My first trip to a mental hospital went well, I think. I escaped without being arrested, and I’d accomplished everything I came for. I met my mother, and found out where my sister was. And Mono and Clyde had disappeared—at least for a while.
I walked out the hospital’s front doors just as firefighters were entering to see if there was a legitimate threat. Will, Calliope, and Leo were waiting for me in our freshly gassed-up car. Will was in the backseat, rummaging through his botched fast food order. “They fuck you in the drive-through!” he said. When he noticed the fire trucks, he said, “Aw, you’re a pyro, too? That’s so cute.”
Calliope revved the engine. “Let the fun begin,” she said, with a glimmer in her eye that I’d seen before. It was the same look she had right before we pulled into the nudist resort.
She drove us to the Grand Rapids Red Lion motel, and pulled under the roof-covered valet parking area, the only place in town that made townsfolk feel like they were at a Ritz Carlton.
Calliope had a peculiar way of knowing things about me. How could she have known my history with this motel? How could she have known that my first crush actually crushed me right there in that lobby?
James Andrews—I’d officially met him that day at recess when he brought me the black-eyed Susan, but it wasn’t until my sophomore year that I developed a relentless crush on him, now the cutest boy in Grand Rapids. His parents owned the Red Lion Hotel, and the first-floor restaurant was the “it” place, the official date-night headquarters in our town. Everybody ate there with their boyfriend, or their wannabe boyfriend. He was definitely my wannabe boyfriend, but I wasn’t sure if he knew it.
After several weeks of flirting in fourth period chemistry, he announced he had something to ask me. Prom was only two days away, so I braced myself for the big moment and prepared a variety of witty responses, all of which featured the operative word “yes.”
Per his request, I met him in the lobby of his parents’ hotel, and while they waved to me from behind the front desk, he delivered the question he’d been so nervous to ask. He pointed to the dinner reservation list, and I saw the last name of a friend of mine, Jessica Graves. She was perfect. Perfect hair, perfect clothes, perfect laugh. And she made me feel like a perfect weirdo.
James lit up when he looked at me. “Do you think she’ll say yes if I ask her? You’re smart about stuff like this. Her parents have reservations at seven. I was thinking I’d steal her away somewhere between the entrée and dessert. Whatcha think?”
There’s a reason they call your first love a crush.
I tried not to look disappointed. “Jessica.”
He was six feet of beautiful. How could someone look that adorable in a sweatshirt? His eyelashes, long and mesmerizing, made every girl who encountered them want to whip out her mascara. And his butt should’ve been an ambassador for Levi Strauss.
When I said Jessica’s name, James gave me a strange look, like he was waiting for my approval. “Yeah, I thought maybe you’d have some insight. I don’t wanna get turned down, you know?” I did.
“Yeah,” I said in an encouraging tone, still recovering from thoughts of a dreamy prom-night kiss. Thank God I hadn’t asked him to the prom like I was going to. How embarrassing. “I’m sure she’ll be really excited,” I said, forcing happiness. I wanted to tell him he was making a mistake, that I was his girl, but I just stood there, solid and stoic.
He took my hand. “Thanks, Suze.” He lowered his head. “That’s … what I needed to know. You’re great, you know.” Looking into my eyes, he said, “Who are you going with?”
“Me?” I pointed to myself and to the shirt I thought I’d get asked to prom in. This was so humiliating. I had no idea at the time, but it was even more embarrassing than my three-inch-long bangs. “I heard the band they got totally sucks this year. It’s probably gonna be lame.” I scrunched up my nose to appear genuine. “Think I’ll skip it.”
His only response was a neutral, “Too bad. It’d be more fun with you there.” He smiled, and I felt it in my knees.
Calliope told us to get out of the car, so we stood in the valet parking drive-through area. “Check in, guys. It’s under my name. We’re staying here tonight. I’ll be back soon.” She smiled as she hollered out the window. “Tell you where we’re going when I get back …”
Traveling light, the three of us grabbed our single bags, and Will grabbed Eternity.
Leo carried his small backpack, which he’d grabbed on the way out of the Garland Museum. He frowned at the idea of Eternity accompanying us into the motel, but continued with a hesitant walk.
Will gave him a disapproving look, like a father gives a son trying to discard his broccoli. “We can’t leave him in the car,” Will said. Then, trying to sound positive, he said, “Confrontation is great therapy, you know.”
We all walked toward the motel’s front lobby doors, but Leo kept a safe distance from Eternity, just in case.
At the front desk, a woman checked us in and gave us two key cards. It was Mrs. Andrews, James’ mother. On her third glance, she let loose a big grin. “Susan Spector? Is that you?” She ran out from behind the desk and gave me a hug. “How are you? I heard you live in California now. How glamorous!”
“Not really,” I mumbled as she squeezed me.
She grabbed both of my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. “You’re not gonna believe this! James is actually visiting this weekend!”
Of course he was.
Shit.
I hadn’t been back home for fifteen years and, just my luck, I got to confront my past in the most vulnerable condition possible.
Will perked up. “James an old friend?”
“Sorry, Mrs. Andrews,” I said. “This is … Will.” Will looked at me like I should’ve given him some sort of title. “And this is Leo.”
Mrs. Andrews, shocked to see a little person dressed as a lion, tried to be gracious, but assumed it must be a big-city thing. She spoke in a slow drawl, as if Leo might speak another language. “Are … you … from … L.A.?”
“I work at the Garland Museum,” Leo said, pointing in the direction of the countr
yside. “Used to work there, I should say.” He looked at Will and me. “Givin’ up the lion suit for a road trip with these two.”
“Well, how long will you be in town?” she asked. “James has some business back east, but he’ll be here for a couple more days.” She lowered her chin and sported a feisty look. “I know he’ll want to see you.” She addressed Will. “James and Susie went to high school together.”
Will, who apparently determined that having access to James would reveal secrets about me, seized the opportunity. “We’re just staying one night. We should invite him for drinks.”
I shook my head no. “I’m exhausted … going straight to bed.”
Mrs. Andrews clapped her hands like a possessed cheerleader. “Nonsense, Susie. I’ll tell him your room number and have him call you. This is so exciting!”
Maybe Leo was protective of me because I’d helped him escape his former oppressed life, because he came to my rescue. “You okay, Susan? You don’t look good.”
My soupy cough rattled around in my tainted lungs, and I sounded as bad as I felt. Dying was unattractive … and inconvenient.
“That cough sounds awful, Susan. I’ll send up some medicine for you,” Mrs. Andrews said as she petted Eternity.
“You probably don’t let dogs in, I know, but—” Will said.
“No, no, I’ll give you a pet-friendly room. And I can have someone check in on him, even take him out to do his business, if you want.” She bent down and pinched Leo’s cheek. “We love all our furry friends.”
An embarrassed Leo headed straight for the elevator, and Will and I followed. Mrs. Andrews called out to us as we walked away. “So nice to see you, Susan. I’ll let James know—room 212. What a gas!”
Ah … gas. Sounded scrumptious. I fantasized about putting my mouth around a nice, deadly exhaust pipe, but was interrupted by Will poking me. “Don’t ya just love reconnecting?” His condescension was thick.
I could tell Will wanted to ask what I’d found in my backyard, and what had happened at the hospital, but he evidently sensed it wasn’t the right time to inquire, and put his hand on my shoulder. “How ’bout a drink?”
All three of us walked into the first room, and Will quickly claimed it as ours. He grabbed Leo’s bag and took it into the adjoining room. Will came back, opened the mini-bar, and poured us each a glass of wine. I waited for him to turn around so he would see me put our bags on separate beds.
When he handed me my glass, he looked at the distance I’d created between the two of us and whispered, “Life is short, Spector,” then smiled and brought his cheek to mine. “And much more fun when you experience it—really experience it—with someone else. Trust me.”
Leo sipped his wine, noticing the covert flirting. “Are you two—”
“Wondering what Cal’s up to? Yes,” I said, not wanting to go down that road. “Whatcha think she’s got planned?”
Will looked at Eternity, who was lying in a floppy heap on his bed. Eternity’s watery eyes blinked weakly. “If she’s entering him in a dog show, we’re fucked,” he said.
Still keeping a watchful eye on the dog, Leo said, “Maybe she’s out getting me my dream girl.” Leo smiled and stepped out of his costume to reveal tiny jeans and a button-down shirt. “Might as well start out my new life right.”
Will was intrigued. “Describe your dream girl, Leo.”
Leo stared into his wine glass and proceeded with sureness. “Well, she’s gotta be tiny, petite, shorter than me.” He grinned and made a gesture, indicating he was looking for someone little. “And it’s gotta be real. None of this love at first sight crap.” He took another drink. “And absolutely, under no circumstances, can she have any pets.”
Right then, there was a knock at the door, and when I opened it, Calliope was holiding two grocery bags full of clothes. “Come on over, kids. There’s something for everyone.” She handed Will a folded stack of clothes.
I stared at the bags and said, “These are definitely not from the mall.”
“Nope. The mall didn’t have what we need for our next adventure—these are from Lou’s Next to New consignment shop.” She handed Leo a small pile. “Here, Leo. Hope it fits.”
When she handed me mine, all I could do was laugh. “I should’ve guessed. You’ve been in the Back to the Future time machine for the last half hour.” I unfolded a cocktail dress that was really cool—in 1985—and the antithesis of minimal. I wasn’t sure where to look first, the giant bows teetering on massive shoulder pads, or the head-to-toe sheath of lace.
“Guess what colors they are, Suze,” Calliope said.
“Is taffeta-vomit a color?” I said.
She draped my dress over my shoulder. “Mine is cobalt blue and yours is kelly green. You’ll look beautiful in green.”
As soon as she said “green,” I heard Roy Orbison singing “Pretty Woman” and I hoped it’d be me.
Will wasted no time making appropriate cultural references about the decade we all love to hate. “But,” he said with raised finger, “she’d also look Pretty in Pink.”
It was obvious that Leo was grateful to leave his Munchkin world behind him and welcome new adventures, because he’d already put on his outfit. When he came out of the bathroom, he attempted to look dapper, but he resembled an overweight, eight-year-old ring-bearer. He was busting at the seams in his little suit, but he didn’t care.
“Sorry, Leo. I know kids’ sizes aren’t quite right, but it’s the best I could do.”
Leo grabbed his suspenders and performed a Michael Jackson spin move that made him look like a white Emanuel Lewis.
Calliope and I went into the bathroom to change, and both of us emerged after several minutes of giggling. We looked like we’d jumped off the set of Dynasty. Pretending to be Joan Collins and Linda Evans, we created a mock cat fight.
Will had put on his suit, and in a manly maneuver attempted to break us up. “Ladies, ladies, there’s plenty of cocaine to go around.” He looked at our hair, which we’d teased to ridiculous proportions. “Nope, the hair’s not big enough yet. Think … Jodi Watley.”
It was unfair how handsome Will looked in a suit. He was James Bond—in Rick Springfield’s clothes.
Cal and I walked back into the bathroom in our dyed satin pumps, and made our hair and our attitudes even bigger. I took the bandage off my tattoo, which was now on display in my sleeveless dress, but Cal’s hid under a poofy sleeve. She gave me a look that suggested she wasn’t ready to show hers yet, but Will noticed mine as we all headed toward the door.
“Don’t say a word,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I didn’t choose it, and it wouldn’t have been my first pick.”
He looked at my heart-framed “Kitten” for a moment, then up at me. “Nice pussy.”
Calliope was on a mission. “Hurry up,” she said, holding the elevator doors. “First, drinks in the lounge. Then we’re off for a big night out.”
“So where are we—” I began.
“Nuh-uh. You’re gonna need another drink before I tell you,” Calliope said.
That was the same attitude she’d sported just before Adam the nudist unveiled his one-eyed trouser snake. What was she up to now?
When the four of us walked into the Red Lion Lounge, everyone in the bar turned and stared. Will turned to Calliope and me and said, “Don’t be embarrassed. You two are the hottest Bon Jovi groupies I’ve ever dated.”
We sat down in the big corner booth, and the combination of good conversation and strong drink made me forget about my ridiculous outfit and my ridiculous day.
That is, until I saw him.
James Andrews entered the bar like he owned the joint. I guess he did, in a way. I’d hoped I was safe, since he hadn’t called our room, but there he was. You know that saying? Someone’s “a tall glass of water”? Well, he wasn’t just a glass—more like a liter, or maybe a gallon. Hell, he was an ocean of manliness, and his presence hit me in waves. First, my stomach knotted up, reminding me I was still
alive. Then, when we made eye contact, a warm current traveled up my body and finally crested, splashing me in the face.
It wasn’t a current after all. It was my margarita on the rocks.
“Jesus, Spector, you’re supposed to drink it, not wear it.” Will must have realized the new guy was James, and it was clear how affected I was. He handed me a napkin and appeared to be having second thoughts about wanting to hang out with James Andrews.
But I was way ahead of him. I’d known from the start that seeing James would be disastrous. Seeing a wannabe boyfriend from your past requires a lot of planning—planning I hadn’t been allowed to do. I was supposed to be fit, successful, and sultry, with a healthy glow, not wearing a bad prom dress from 1985 and dying. At least my knees weren’t woozy. I was too old for juvenile affectations like that … Also I was seated, which probably helped.
“Susan Spector,” he said with authority as he helped me out of the booth and hugged me. He was taller than I’d remembered, and he smelled … like success. Maybe it was because I was wearing two-decade old clothes, but he oozed a modern flair in a fitted sweater that highlighted his strong, lean body.
“No one answered in your room. Thought I’d try here.” He looked me up and down, analyzing the separate pieces of my ensemble, which, when added up, equaled Molly Ringwald, if she were a raging whore.
James laughed when he touched my stiff shelf of bangs. “You … haven’t changed a bit.” This was not a compliment. His warm smile became a puzzled frown. “What’s with the get-up?”
I scowled at Calliope. “Cal? What is with this get-up?”
After I introduced everyone, she pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it on the table. It was a flyer, and I recognized the tiger as my former high school mascot. “I guess I can reveal it now. We’re going to a dance at your old high school!” Winking at me, she said, “Well, it’s not exactly prom, but it’s close enough.”
Black Eyed Susan Page 15
