Lila Blue

by Annie Katz

  To the south we could see the entire Big Fish estuary, where the mouth of the river spread out to lovely white sand beaches in each direction. There were two boats down on the river leaving white trails, and they looked as small as flies from where we stood.

  Along the trail a little farther we could look down to a small black sand cove where wave after wave crashed violently onto the rocky beach. The high tide line was strewn with huge drift logs, all gnarled and bleached by the sun and water. I wondered how many such coves were hidden up and down all along the shores of the Pacific Ocean. What an amazing place to be on the planet! I felt very lucky to be standing on top of this wild mountain overlooking the sea.

  We kept going a ways along the trail that angled north. Lila said we would turn around and go back soon. "A couple of miles farther," she said, "are the northern trailhead and parking area. Sometimes people take two cars and hike from one side to the other." She said she'd done it a few times with friends, but she preferred the southern part of the trail, so she usually went back and forth on it, like today.

  "How many times have you hiked here?" I asked.

  "At least once a year, so that makes about seven or eight times."

  "Did you ever bring Jamie and Mark?"

  "Sure. Last summer we came when they stayed with me. Mark was impatient and kept jogging up ahead and running back down to us. He reminded me of an eager puppy. He finally settled down on the way back."

  "I wonder how long it will be before he can run again," I said, feeling sad for him.

  "Let's call when we get back," she said. "We can find out first hand."

  We were back away from the cliff now, still in the grassy part but nearing the timber line on the north part of the head, and Lila found us a spot in the grass in the shade of a copse of bushy trees, a kind I'd never seen before. Lila didn't know the name of them, but said they should serve us well as a picnic area. We sat and ate the rest of our food, listening to the insects in the grasses and the birds in the trees.

  I was so relaxed I thought a nap might be a good idea, but before I could suggest it, there came from behind us a crashing thundering sound that startled me so much I jolted and cried out. Lila was just as startled and she gasped. Our heads spun around to find the monster that must be coming for us, and it was a herd of deer running hard, up over the hill behind the copse of trees. About fifteen deer ran right past us, and when I cried out again, this time in recognition and relief that it wasn't a monster after all, the leader of the herd stopped suddenly and turned his head toward us. The other deer stopped, following their leader's cue. We sat very still. While I stared back at the buck, I remembered Lila's account of the bull elk charging old Abe, but this leader looked brave and wise, so I wasn’t afraid.

  There they were, a whole community of deer, watching us sitting in the grass barely twenty feet away. They seemed so intelligent and curious that they were people to me, not animals, but real people just like me.

  The leader kept looking at us, and we stayed still until he figured we weren't dangerous. Then he casually turned away from us and led his clan off through the tall grass at a dignified pace. Apparently the cavorting was only for when no one was looking, or maybe they had been spooked by something and that's why they had run so hard over the hill behind us. Still, I got the sense they had been running for fun and exercise, the way seagulls play on the wind, for the joy of moving, for the thrill of being in such skilled bodies, able to run and pound the earth with strong legs. Ah, to be as swift and graceful as a deer.

  After they had gone, Lila turned to me and said, "Cassandra, you are a magnet for wild folks. One morning hike with you and I've seen more wildlife than on the other seven hikes put together. You have a gift for calling the wild ones."

  "I didn't call them, honest," I said. "That last bunch about scared me to death."

  "Me too," she said. "I was afraid the Dragon was coming to punish us for sitting on the grass." She made her eyes go wide.

  I laughed. "Me too," I said. "What else could make that much noise?"

  We headed back the way we’d come and soon we met a young family on their way up. Lila told them about the herd of deer we'd seen, and the mom said they'd seen a few deer on other hikes here, but never a big herd like that.

  The dad and two kids were all outfitted with walking shorts, long socks, and hiking boots. He used a beautiful walking stick of gnarled pale wood. They all carried packs and wore cloth hats. Hiking was like being in a club that required proper costumes and accessories. We all smiled and wished each other a good day, and Lila and I stepped to the edge of the path and let them ease past us without harming the ecosystem one iota.

  Everything was still lovely on the way down, but it was getting warm and my bladder was trying to get my attention, so I was glad when we got to the parking area. I couldn't face using the port-a-potty, so I held on for the ride home and ran to the bathroom as soon as Lila unlocked the door. I was so relieved I swear I heard angels sing while I sat on the pot and relaxed with a big sigh. Hiking was heaven, but so was making it to the toilet in time.

  Wednesday afternoon while Lila was at work, I remembered Jamie's drawings and my letter. I went back up to the Crow's Nest to get them and started going through Lila's art books, looking for anything that might be similar to Jamie's black ink style. I found several things that had similar elements, like the strong lines on one impressionist painting, only it was oil on canvas and bright colors. The ink drawings in the books generally had more lines or more details, nothing as sparse as Jamie's work. Cartoon drawings seemed close, but Jamie's work carried more weight, more gravity as in seriousness or solemnity.

  Pretty soon the table was piled up with big glossy open art books, and I saw a vision in my mind of them all scattered on my mom's big glass dining room table. Janice would love these pictures. The few times she took me on outings with boyfriends to the beach, she dragged us through all the art galleries in the coastal towns. My mother loved art. She would stand and stare at a painting for five minutes, long enough for her guy and me to wander all over the gallery, look at all the souvenirs by the front counter, and wander all around again.

  I left the books out on the table and brought Jamie's drawings and my letter downstairs and put them in the top drawer of the dresser in my room. Then I locked up the house and walked through a fierce cold wind to our little part of Rainbow Village.

  Lila and Herbert were both cutting hair, and two people were in the waiting area, so I waved and went on to the bookstore to see what Molly was up to. She was in the back corner of the shop, the kitchen area, fixing tomato soup for her family. She poured hot soup into big mugs, and I carried the tray for her to the coffee table in front of the window couch. Curtis was reading in his chair there, so I handed him a mug of soup. He took it and smiled, but I don't think he registered who I was. From the book jacket, I guessed Curtis was in the Himalayas.

  Marge, who was unpacking a shipment of fresh books behind the counter, left her work and called Bradley and had him sit with her on the couch. GrumpaLump were taking up the rocking chair as usual, so Molly and I sat on the floor across from Marge and Bradley. Just when everyone got comfortable, some visitors, Lila's polite word for tourists, came in the shop. I could tell visitors from locals easily now, and these looked confused.

  Marge smiled and waved them in. "You're in the right place," she said. "I keep my family here in the window so I know what they're up to. Holler when you need something."

  The young couple held hands and browsed through the crowded aisles of books. I wondered if they thought Curtis and I were Marge's kids too. It was fun to be part of the local color.

  After I helped Molly wash the soup mugs, she took me upstairs to their apartment. She was wild to try a new braiding idea on me. She got me all arranged in a kitchen chair and stood behind me. This time she wanted to try narrow French braids interspersed with thicker ones, all culminating at the nape of the neck in a ponytail.

  When I co
uldn't understand what she described and asked for a picture, she said, "It's an inspired thought. The picture is in my mind. I'll show you when we're done."

  I wasn't excited about the possibility of being there all day, but I couldn't think of a good excuse to jump up and run out, so I let her work. It was kind of fun having someone mess with my hair after all these years of never letting anyone touch it. Molly was gentle and funny, so I relaxed and let her play.

  "Did Lila tell you about Kitty Lynn?" Molly asked.

  "No. What happened?"

  "Her dog had a stroke and died at the shop yesterday, and Kitty was so upset she fainted and cut her head on the edge of the counter. She's in the hospital."

  "Poor Kitty Lynn," I said. "She adored that dog."

  "Curtis and I took her a gift basket this morning, and she's trying to be brave. Do you think we should find her a puppy?"

  "I don't know. No one can take Oleander's place."

  "But a puppy would take her mind off everything."

  "Yea, but it might tear up her whole yarn shop," I said, and we laughed to imagine how much fun a puppy would have in there.

  "You're right," Molly said. "We'll find an older dog for her."

  "When can she come home?"

  "Her daughter from Eugene is coming to take her home in the morning. They wanted to make sure her head is healing. There was a big bandage and both her eyes were black, so it might be a while. The shop will be closed until she gets better."

  Molly's kitchen chair was not as comfortable as those at the barbershop, so I got tired of the braiding before Molly did. She found a place to pause in her creation, and we went back downstairs and told Marge we were going to Lila's. Marge had a line of customers, and she looked so happy visiting with them and ringing up sales. I could see she'd created a very happy life for herself. She was queen of Sunshine Books.

  Herbert's chair was free, so we borrowed it until he needed it again. Soon Molly was tired of braiding so I ended up with an asymmetrical look that was not aesthetically pleasing. Molly spun me around and gave me the hand mirror so I could see the back. It was egregious.

  "Not perfect," I said.

  "Not remotely acceptable," Molly said, so we worked together to take it all out. Then I combed my hair and made simple pigtails, securing them with plain rubber bands.

  When Lila finished her customer, she made us tea and we sat in the waiting area with her while she rested her legs. Then I remembered the art books.

  "You know all the art books in the Crow's Nest?" I said. "Could we send some to Janice? She likes art."

  "That's a great idea," Lila said. "Most of those books are ones friends gave me when they were moving, so I'm not attached to any. We'll ship them all if you think she has room for them."

  "But isn't it expensive?"

  Molly said, "Mom gets big boxes of books all the time. There's a special rate for books, so it's not bad."

  "It will be worth it to send inspiration and beauty to your mother," Lila said. "We'll get them ready tonight."

  "Let's get boxes from my mom," Molly said, so after we finished tea, we ran back to the bookstore and got boxes to lug back to Lila's house.

  That night after dinner, Lila and I went upstairs to decide which books to send Janice first. While we were standing over the table, I felt a weird little trickle and ran down to the bathroom. Sure enough, the first dark blood had begun. It barely spotted my undies, so I got fresh ones and a pad, and then rinsed the tiny stain out and hung them to dry on the edge of the laundry hamper. I felt proud of myself for catching the beginning of my period before making a mess of anything. This wouldn't be too bad. I remembered the weird crampy feeling I'd had just as we sat for dinner, so I thought, next time I'll use a pad before the blood started.

  I circled July thirty-first in my little calendar. At this rate, I could predict my next menses would begin on August twenty-ninth. It felt good to be gaining some illusion of mastery over the uncontrollable mystery of my body.

  August twenty-ninth was almost September, which was the beginning of seventh grade. The summer was more than half over. I prayed with all my heart I would be riding the bus with Molly in September down to the school at the south of town. They had kindergarten through eighth grade all in one school. Molly said there were about fifty kids in her grade, and she knew everyone. In Sacramento, I was one of hundreds. Here I would be somebody.

  The only thing I would miss about California, besides my mother some days, would be Shelly. We never would have made it through fifth and sixth grades without each other.

  Lila came down to see if I was okay, and I told her about my periods starting and predicting when they would come in August.

  She nodded, pleased I was taking charge of planning them. "Do you need any supplies?" she asked. "Remember to put them on the grocery list, so you'll always have plenty. It's like having plenty of gas in the car or plenty of toilet paper. There's never a good excuse for running out."

  I laughed. "Someone should have taught Janice that," I said. "She's always running out of toilet paper or milk or nail polish remover. She always has good excuses why she forgot to get them."

  "Well, there's nothing wrong with that lifestyle either," Lila said. "Whatever makes people happy is fine with me. I love having plenty of everything on hand so I'm not rushing around at the last minute. I enjoy feeling prepared."

  "Me too," I said. I felt relaxed with Lila. With Janice I felt an emergency was always waiting around the corner. It was nice to know it was a chosen lifestyle rather than a fact of life. I wanted a peaceful, orderly lifestyle. Relaxed. Happy. Easy going.

  Back upstairs, we selected seven art books for the first shipment, including impressionists, art history, realists, modern art, portraits, landscapes, and finally a book all about Georgia O'Keefe, because I thought my mom would love her desert studies of bones, as well as her close up flowers. If she liked those, we could send more.

  I hadn't talked with Janice since the time she was so drunk. Lila talked with her nearly every morning on the phone, short conversations where Lila was especially calm and supportive and Janice ended the call after a few minutes. Lila had told my mom about my idea to send some art books, and Janice had said okay, but she didn't promise she'd have time to look at them. That information made me happy, because I thought if she hasn't got time to open a picture book, she hasn't got time to arrange to get me back to California and ready for school in September.

  Lila asked if I wanted to write a letter to my mom to send with the books, and I was tempted to send the long one I'd written on Sunday, but when I got it out of my dresser drawer and read it over, I decided it was too much too fast for her, so I started a new one.

  Dear Mom, I thought you might like to look through these art books to help you relax while you look for a new job. I hope you are finding good opportunities and enjoying your search. When I saw art books in Lila's bookshelf, I thought of you, because you always seemed to love art galleries so much whenever we visited them. They have some art galleries near here. Maybe when you come to visit we can go there together.

  I'm doing fine. Lila and I went on a hike yesterday and saw elk from the road and deer from the trail. It was a long walk through big trees, and we ended up on Dragon's Head, a cliff overlooking the ocean. You can see miles and miles in both directions from there.

  I have a friend here, Molly. She's ten and she likes to braid my hair, so finally I am taking your advice and doing something to keep my hair out of my eyes. You were right. It is better this way.

  I hope you are well and happy and have everything you need. I am praying you get a job you love as much as I love living here in Rainbow Village. Your loving daughter, Cassandra

  I told Lila I had finished the letter but I wasn't sure I wanted to send it. She said she often liked to sleep on things if she’s not sure, so I decided to do that. I left the letter on my dresser and reread it before going to sleep. It was a good letter, but I didn't know how much I really wanted
to say to my mother. I realized I was being calculating rather than impeccable. I was trying to guess what would make her do what I wanted her to do. I was trying to manipulate her.

  That realization felt awful, so I prayed God would help me be honest and transparent and courageous, not sneaky and afraid. And I prayed for a dream to give me a message about what to do next.

  The next morning I woke with this dream. I am with Molly and we are riding the bus to school, only she is my age and she looks like a cross between Shelly and herself. She has dark skin like Shelly and short curly hair like herself. There's a commotion at the back of the bus, and the driver has to stop to find out the problem. Molly and I are sitting in the front, and we see the driver carrying another kid in his arms. She was hurt in the back seat, and he has to get her off the bus. I wonder if we know her. When he passes by us, I see it is Janice, only she's younger than we are. "Wait," I tell the bus driver. "That's my little sister!" But he doesn't stop. I try to get off the bus and follow him, but I can't because all the kids have to stay on the bus so the adults can help the hurt one.

  I woke up really scared for Janice but knowing there was nothing I could do. At least the bus driver was helping her. Maybe it meant I should let the adults handle the situation and stay out of the way. Stay in Oregon where I wanted to be. That was my sign.

  At breakfast I told Lila I had a dream and it gave me a message to change the letter, so she said, "Wonderful! You are developing a great relationship with your Dream Mother. I'm so happy for you."

  "Dream Mother?"

  "That's what I call the one who fashions my dreams and helps me decipher them," she said. "It's one of my names for God. Dream Mother, Quan Yin, Goddess, God, Ancient Ones, Universe. God has millions of names and faces. Dream Mother is one of my favorites."

  "Well," I said. "I asked for a dream, and the one Dream Mother gave me is clear, so I need to change my letter before I send it."

  She cleaned up the kitchen after breakfast to give me time to work on my new letter. After several tries, here's what I came up with.