by Annie Katz
"That seems weird," I said.
"Weird is normal for Herbert," she said. "But you can judge for yourself when you meet him."
Lila got a typed list off her refrigerator and sat down to go over it with me. It was an itinerary of her week and a list of her friends' phone numbers. She worked five afternoons a week and took Monday and Tuesday off.
Another page was a whimsical map showing Lila's house on the beach and the two-lane coast highway three blocks inland. Little shops lined both sides of the highway. Lila Blue's Family Barbershop was labeled along with all the other little businesses in that area of Rainbow Village.
The Bakery Boys was on one side of Lila's barbershop and Franny's Flowers and Sunshine Books were on the other. Across the highway from her shop were The Salty Dog Taffy Company, Kitty Lynn's Yarn Shop, Happy Hearts Soup & Salad, and Rainy Hardware. I wished my friend Shelly could be here. She'd love the bakery and taffy shop. Sweets were her favorite entertainment.
"Here's my schedule, Cassandra. You're welcomed to come anywhere with me, and you're also welcome to choose your own path through each day. Here's the house key." It was looped on a red ribbon, which Lila slipped over my neck. The neck ribbon was long enough so I could wear the key comfortably under my shirt.
"Rainbow Village is a safe place, and I trust you know how to look out for yourself, coming from the city. Please leave me a note telling me where you are and when you'll be home. Rule number four." She pointed to a message board hanging beside the kitchen door.
"It gets dark late now," she said. "Be home before the sun sets."
"Okay," I said. "You mean I can stay here while you're at work?"
"Yes, if you want to. Or you can come to work with me or go to the library or walk on the beach or get a job."
I thought, a job? Does she think I'm a grownup? Do I have to pay rent?
"Rainbow Village is a fine place for a young woman," she said. "I know practically everyone in town. I cut their hair."
"My mom never lets me do anything alone," I said. "One time the police put me in a foster home, so she's scared." I shrugged my shoulders. "I guess she hasn't noticed I'm taller than she is."
"Ah," Lila said, studying me and nodding her head. "Do you want us to call your mom and see if my idea is okay with her?"
"No!" I shook my head. "I mean no, I think you and I can work out something safe." I grinned at her. "Rule number two."
Lila clapped her hands and yipped. "You remembered."
"Well, I saw your rules on the back of my bedroom door."
"Good for you."
I played with the key dangling from my neck. It was gold colored and shiny new.
"That's to the front door," she said. "If you misplace that one, there's another hidden by the cat door. Come, I'll show you."
So that's how the cats appeared and disappeared all the time! They had plastic flaps where they could go into the garage from the kitchen and from the garage to outdoors.
Chloe and Zoe were free to come and go whenever they wanted. Apparently I was too.
Suddenly, for the first time since I'd left home, I missed my mother. My heart ached with longing for her. I clutched my chest, afraid I was having a heart attack.
When we got back indoors, I asked if I could call my mom.
"Of course. Call her any time night or day. And call your friends too. Invite them to come here. This is your home as long as you want to stay."
At that moment, all I wanted was my own mother, not this new grandma who gave me too much too fast. I was sick with possibilities.
Lila put an extension phone in my little bedroom so I would have privacy. My mom answered on the first ring, which surprised me. Ten in the morning and she was out of bed?
"Mom, it's me, Sandy," I said.
"Baby, are you okay? Is something wrong?"
"Can I come home?" I said.
"What happened? Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm okay," I said, but then I started crying, and I was so mad at myself for being such a big baby that I hit myself hard on the leg.
"What's wrong, Sandy. I thought you would like it there. Did Lila upset you?"
"No, Mom. She's nice. I miss you is all. I love you."
"I love you too, baby. You know that."
My homesickness left as suddenly as it had arrived. I only needed to hear my mom say she loved me. "How come you're up so early? Did you have last night off?"
"No, I worked. Roger's taking me to lunch, so I got up in time to get ready."
"Oh. Roger."
"Now don't start that. We're friends. He's sweet, really. He has an old fashioned idea about long courtships. Women give up too much when they try to be equal in everything."
"Are you sober?" It came out harsher than I'd intended, but I let it sit there. Impeccably honest.
"Yes, Sandy, I haven't had a drink since you left. Almost five days now."
It really bothered me that she connected my leaving with her not needing alcohol any more. "That's good, Mom."
"Well, baby, if you're sure you're okay, I need to get ready."
"I'm fine. Really. I only needed to hear your voice."
"That's really sweet, Sandy. Love you."
"Love you, Mom." I heard the click of her phone and the homesickness came back again, but I knew that the ache in my heart couldn't be cured by going back. My heart ached for something besides the mother I knew. Maybe I needed to call my spirit home. "Cassandra," I whispered to myself.
I stood up and looked in the oval mirror on the wall above the dresser. My hair was frizzier than usual and stood out in all directions like a lion's mane. The key necklace hung around my neck. "Cassandra." I tried to make the name fit the image looking back at me.
While I was trying to look into my eyes the way I'd peered into Lila's eyes when we'd talked on the beach steps the first morning, Lila's rule number seven came to mind, Choose happiness here now. I smiled at myself, made prayer hands, and bowed to the God in me. "Namaste, Cassandra. Namaste."
Then I called Shelly. She told me all about her crazy cousins and their water skiing on the lake. She had bikini lines and there were cute boys to flirt with.
I told her about being banished to the wilderness, the bus trip, and how much I loved the jade journal she gave me.
"The Oregon Coast is like winter in Sacramento," I said.
"Yuck," she said. "What's there to do?"
"There's a beach with beautiful shells and some shops you might like. I haven't seen them yet, but Lila said they make the best salt water taffy at the one across from her barbershop."
"Ooh. Taffy. Send me a giant bag," she said. "Promise?"
"Sure," I said.
"Hey, my cousins are back. I have to go. Call me again."
"Okay, and you can call me. Anytime. Lila wants me to feel at home here."
"She sounds cool," Shelly said. "I miss you."
I told her I missed her too, and we hung up. I was homesick again, but it didn't scare me this time.
I stayed at the beach house that afternoon while Lila worked. I wanted to have the whole place to myself. I wanted to find out how it felt to be alone.
To start with, I took a short walk on the beach. The rain had stopped and shafts of sunlight pierced the clouds as I walked down the beach stairs. I went barefoot, and my feet were practically numb with cold and shock by the time I got to the wet sand. It would take a while for the poor soles to get accustomed to freedom.
I told them to toughen up and walked down to the surf line, and with my jeans rolled up, I strode along into the wind, which bit into my cheeks. It seemed impossible that it was hot in Wisconsin and hot in Sacramento and cold at the beach in Oregon. Was there any such thing as summer here?
The seagulls were arranged on the sand like little battalions of soldiers, all hunkered down, beaks to the wind. If a dog or walker disturbed them, they all spread their wings and lifted off, flapped a few times, hovered fifteen feet above the sand until the disturbance was gone, a
nd then landed in formation to get on with naps or contemplations or whatever they were doing. I wondered why they weren't hanging around some beach in Mexico, or at least San Diego. Maybe they thought the whole world was windy and rainy and cold. Had they no imagination? No hope for a better life?
When my nose and ears were as cold as my toes, I turned around and was pushed down the beach toward home. I panicked for a second when I couldn't spot Lila's house. There was a gray rock house, only it wasn't on a hill. Farther down the coast than I thought it should be, there it was, and I was so relieved I practically ran back.
Chloe and Zoe ambushed me near the foot of the stairs. Since Lila wasn't there, both cats came to me for petting, and I was surprised how soft their fur was and how bony their shoulders and spines. They meowed at me and I meowed back, which seemed to satisfy them, and they raced up the stairs and were sleeping on the couch by the time I rinsed off my feet and joined them in the living room.
Rather than get out a footbath tub, I took a long, warm shower. It felt delicious to know I had at least three more hours all by myself.
After drying off and getting clean clothes and fuzzy slippers on, I went looking for the TV Guide. I hoped my programs were on, because one of the things I really enjoyed was watching my silly game shows in the living room with Shelly while my mom watched her silly soap operas on the TV in her room.
Shelly and I were friends because we were the smartest kids in our class, we were both only children, and we couldn't get excited about the latest nail polish color. Otherwise we weren't that much alike. She was brown and curvy and liked boys, especially tall, skinny older boys with blonde hair and blue eyes. Most boys turned into drooling idiots when she walked by, so she had her pick.
She had two parents, and she lived with them in a huge house with elevators. The whole third story of their home was devoted to entertainment, including a pool table and bar and ping-pong table and big TV and stereo. Her mom was from southern India and her dad was from northern Wisconsin, and they ran some kind of international advertising company, so they had work parties at their house.
Sometimes Shelly and I watched game shows on their TV, but only when we could convince my mom there would be an adult guarding us at all times. Shelly's parents were looser about adult supervision than my mom was. They trusted Shelly and they believed the world was a friendly place.
I rummaged in the basket beside Lila's couch, where there were some brainy looking magazines about science and nature and philosophy, but no TV Guide. I thought Lila must keep it by the television set, and that's when I realized I hadn't seen a TV anywhere in the house.
I looked in every cabinet and cupboard and closet. I even snooped in Lila's bedroom. No sign of a television, radio, or stereo. I couldn't believe it.
Upstairs, I thought. That makes sense, a whole entertainment room like Shelly's parents' third floor. I'd seen the puzzle and books, so the TV and stereo must be in a cabinet upstairs. I switched on the light at the bottom of the narrow stairway and raced upstairs. No television. No stereo. Not even a little radio alarm clock. Nothing. I couldn't believe it.
Every second my mother was in our apartment, the television or the radio was on, usually both. I had to go in my room and close the door if I wanted to read or do homework, and still there was the constant background babble of TV voices or pop music, like the constant roar of the surf on a beach.
Here in Rainbow Village, the constant roar of real surf must have lulled my brain so much that it took me three days to figure out Lila didn't have a TV. I'd never imagined a person could live that way. I was pretty sure people all over the world had television. Could it be the Oregon beach had such terrible reception that they were cut off from the rest of humanity?
I plopped myself down on the upstairs window seat overlooking the ocean and stared outside. Soon the cats joined me there, and we napped in the patches of sunlight that broke through the afternoon clouds.
When I woke up, I went downstairs and called Lila's barbershop.
"Lila Blue," she answered in a friendly business voice.
"Grandma," I said, "I can't find the TV."
"Cassandra?"
"I looked everywhere. I couldn't even find a radio."
"Oh, well, I don't have one. I think there might be an old battery radio in the garage for emergencies, but the batteries are probably dead by now."
"I didn't look in the garage," I said. I waited.
After a few seconds, Lila spoke in a very calm, patient tone of voice she might use with an insane person. "Having no television must seem odd to you. Are you missing a special program?"
"What about the news? Everyone watches the news."
"Listen, dear, I'm in the middle of a haircut. Why don't you walk down to the shop? Look at the map. It will only take five minutes. When you get here, I'll take a break and show you around."
"No, I'm okay. I just wondered why I couldn't find it."
"Okay, sweetheart. I'll be home around six. Call again if you need anything."
I was not okay. Honestly, I was fine for about three minutes after I hung up, and then I was not fine. I was restless, agitated, and annoyed. If my mother had given me a little advance notice about sending me to this unbelievable summer camp experience, maybe I could have gotten myself used to the idea. I could have called Lila on the phone and asked a long list of questions before coming, such as running water? electricity? English spoken? That way I could have been prepared.
A thorough list of questions wouldn't have been much help though, because television was like air. Who thinks to ask if they have air in Oregon?
Okay, I told myself. I can do this. My mom said two weeks, so that means nine more days without TV. I'll live.
To still the silence, I went upstairs to explore the loaded bookcases there. I chose a book from the top shelf and took it down to the couch in front of the ocean. I was well into The White Dragon when I heard Lila come in through the kitchen door, and my panic over the lack of television had evaporated.
The next day, I packed the dragon rider book in my backpack and went to the village with Lila. We'd walked on the beach after breakfast in a misty rain, and before work, she took me for lunch at Happy Hearts, a soup and salad place across from her barbershop. I had corn chowder, which was different from any soup I’d ever eaten before, but good. After lunch, we had time to visit some of the other Rainbow Village shops.
Everyone knew Lila, of course, and she introduced me to the shop owners. They all welcomed me and said I could come by to visit anytime.
It seemed to be normal to have a shop pet, or maybe it was so wet outdoors that all the animals went wherever their owners went. Next door to the soup place was Rainy Hardware, where a huge red and turquoise parrot yelled, "What's up, Buster?" when we entered the store. He squawked, "Mind your own business!" when I approached him. He was pacing back and forth on a long gnarled driftwood branch, and his area had signs posted everywhere saying, Beware of Bird, Danger, Keep Away, Don't Trust Parrot, No Children Allowed, and Hide your Fingers.
I kept my hands to myself and followed Lila to the back of the store where there was a shelf full of television sets, all tuned to different stations with the volumes low. Across from them were some beat up armchairs, a few occupied.
"Mark comes here when he misses having TV," Lila said. "He likes the game shows, because he usually gets the answers before the contestants do."
"I prefer reading," I said, not wanting Lila to think I was like her grandson, even though I nearly always got the answers right. Besides, no matter how desperate I was, I'd never sit in a hardware store and watch TV. How tacky, my Grandma Betty would say.
"I prefer reading, too," said Lila, and she smiled at me.
"When do they come?" I asked. "Your grandchildren."
"They spend July fourth with their parents in Idaho, and then around mid July they all come to the beach for a few days. The family stays at the resort down the road, and when their parents go home, the boy
s stay with me for a time. The resort has a big indoor pool, and Jamie loves the water. He's my little water bug."
"I'm a good swimmer," I said, then blushed to catch myself bragging.
"I'm not at all surprised, Cassandra. Your daddy loved the water."
My dad. There he was again. "Was his last name Blue?"
"Yes," she said, and she studied my face as if wondering how much information I wanted. "His full name was David Alexander Blue. He always went by David, never Dave or Davy."
We went to the two shops on the other side of the soup place next, Kitty Lynn's Yarn Shop and The Salty Dog Taffy Company. Kitty Lynn was a big blonde woman dressed all in pink. She was about fifty but she sounded like a little girl. She sat behind the counter, and beside her on a low shelf in a big straw basket was her dog Oleander. Before he lifted his head, I thought he was a pile of messy white yarn. His eyes were covered with long hair, and he seemed to see with his square black nose. When Lila said hi to him, he stood up, yawned, turned around a few times, and plopped back down in his basket.
"Please forgive his manners," Kitty Lynn said. "His arthritis is acting up."
"At least he doesn't scream, 'Mind your own business!'" I said. They laughed.
"Buster," Kitty Lynn said.
I nodded.
"Believe the signs," she said. "That old criminal should not be allowed in public."
Next we went to The Salty Dog Taffy Company, where of course there was a real dog, even though it was a candy shop. You'd think people would worry about dog hair in their taffy.
Sailor, who Lila told me was a golden retriever, wasn't technically in the store, because she stayed in the backroom, where she had a big bed on the floor by the back door. From her bed she could see who came in the front of the store. Lila went back to scratch the dog's ears. "Sailor likes to keep her eye on things, don't you, girl," she said. Sailor looked at Lila with big adoring brown eyes, but she stopped at the threshold of the main part of the shop when Lila came back to stand by me.
