Pretty Things Don't Break

by Lauren Jayne

  At the breakfast table, a few months after the nonexistent dust settled, Booboo flipped open the Sunday paper looking for a TV. She zeroed in on exactly what she wanted. She folded the paper under her arm and headed to the store, with enough money in her coin purse to buy it. With a perfectly altered pencil skirt, gray cashmere sweater set, and a belt wrapped around her narrow waist, she slipped on her patent leather Mary Jane heels and walked up to the door with purpose; she did everything with purpose.

  With the ding of the bell, a sales clerk walked up to Booboo. “Hello ma’am, what may I help you with, ma’am?”

  Booboo commanded more respect than a sitting president without ever opening her lipstick-covered mouth. She marched up to the counter in the front of the store, threw the paper down, and pointed with her white glove-covered finger to the TV she was there to purchase.

  “I’d like to buy this television.”

  “Oh, sorry ma’am, we just sold out. But I’m happy to show you another one.”

  “I want this one. When will you have more in? I’ll be back.”

  She grabbed her paper, folded it in half, and put it under her tiny arm, then walked with the gait of a super model out the door.

  As soon as the door closed, Milton came out from the back room, laughing with his brothers like kids at camp, watching Booboo saunter to her car. Booboo went back to the store every other day on her way home from work for two weeks. Each time, Milton stood watching from the back, awe-stricken by her beauty and self-assured power. He was in love. Milton ended up going to another store to buy the TV that Booboo had seen in the ad. The truth was, they never did have the TV Booboo had seen in the paper; they’d put it in as a bait and switch, knowing that it would get people in the door, and they’d buy another, more expensive TV. Soon after that, Booboo and Milton were married.

  At fifteen, Mom went with Booboo and Milton on some of their trips to Vegas where Milton already had the clout of a movie star. Mom watched from the private cabana where they left her, as they partied with the Rat Pack, who were in town filming “Ocean’s Eleven.” She said Elizabeth Taylor was more beautiful lounging poolside than she ever was in the movies. Booboo seemed to love the trips to a local coffee shop or to the airport midday to pick something up with Milton. She embraced her new life and her new title of Mrs. Frank.

  Before too long, Mr. Lansky got things going again, but he had been banned from America, so now he was living in the Bahamas. During one of Milton’s trips there, Myer told Milton that he wanted him to start running junkets to Vegas.

  Before heading to Vegas, they all moved back into Booboo’s family home in Denver. Mom was 17 and pregnant with her Italiano husband’s baby, but he’d been drafted and had to go to Vietnam. Milton was home alone with Mom on a steamy July night. Booboo needed to get in one more buying trip to NYC before Mom had her baby, and since she wasn’t due for a month, Booboo reassured them no baby would come until she got back. She left enough food in the fridge and told them she’d be home in a few days. After ordering Chinese and eating in the TV room on trays, which Booboo would never have allowed, Mom went to bed. At three in the morning, she woke up to wet sheets.

  Walking into Milton’s room, she tapped on the wall by his bed, as she knew better than to startle him. “Milton, it’s time, I’m having the baby,” she whispered.

  “There’s no fucking baby. Go back to sleep.”

  Mom got up, grabbed her little bag, and started dialing for a cab. Just then Milton came out of his room, shaking out of his pill-induced state in his neatly ironed pajamas with a sleeping mask just up over his groggy eyes.

  “What the fuck is going on around here?” he yelled.

  “Milton, the baby; it’s coming now. I’m calling a cab,” Mom said. Since Milton didn’t have a driver’s license and had never driven a car, he wouldn’t have been much help anyway.

  “Okay kid, don’t worry, Milton’s here. We’ll get that thing out, and we’ll be fine.”

  Milton waited with the other dads on the blue vinyl-covered couch in the smoky waiting room. When the nurse in the striped uniform and little paper hat said, “It’s a girl!” he jumped up and hugged her. From the minute he saw Hope in the nursery window, she owned his heart like nothing ever had before. For Hope’s first few years of life, she was the center of Milton’s world. Hope and Mom lived at home with Booboo, Milton, and Booboo’s dad, Zade. But it was the Hope and Milton show, day and night, until at Booboo’s constant urging, Mom went to the Sadie Hawkins dance at the Jewish Community Center and sealed all of our fates.

  Mom came down the stairs in her black dress with white piping, that hugged every curve of her nineteen-year-old body like a race car to a track. With little gloves buttoned up the side and a black patent bag under her arm, she headed out to meet her girlfriends at the dance. She asked one more time if Milton and Zade were okay alone with Hope, who was happily ordering them around from the Pack ‘N Play they had set square in the middle of the room.

  Milton said, “Alright already, kid. Go!”

  All heads turned when Mom walked into the room, her tiny dress barely giving her enough room to saunter across the floor, oblivious to her beauty. While she danced with a soon-to-be irrelevant suitor, a man in a blue Air Force uniform cut in. His black hair pushed back away from his face, setting off his bright blue eyes, he walked up with the gait of a movie star on Oscar night.

  He tapped on the gentleman’s shoulder and said, “May I cut in?”

  The moment their eyes met, it was as if a tornado had collided with a tsunami. Mom coyly looked away as he stared down at her, their bodies too close instantly, as song after song they acted as if they were the only two in the room filled with Jewish kids with raging hormones. When Mom noticed the time, she pushed away.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “I have to get home; I’m already late.”

  “I need to see you again. Tomorrow.”

  Mom laughed at his brashness and knew, by the way the other girls stared at him, that he was used to getting whatever he wanted. She gave him her address anyway and said she was free at three.

  The next day, as they shared a milkshake, he pulled out a thin gold ring with a delicate freshwater pearl on it and said, “This is for you. My second mother, that took me in like her own while I was based in Japan, gave it to me and told me to give it to my wife when I met her. So I’m giving it to you.”

  Six weeks later, my parents were married.

  Milton was sent to Vegas, with just a few hotels dotted in the sand. There was a buzz that could be felt around the world and Mr. Lansky wanted Milton in the middle of it. Milton started by chartering planes once a month and bringing gamblers to Vegas. Pretty soon, once a month grew to once a week and then Mr. Lansky had Milton move there. Milton had vowed not to move until Hope and Mom were settled, so the minute Mom was married, they moved. Milton was treated like the celebrities that he was surrounded by. He went from the Dunes to the Stardust (the story is this is where he met Steve Wynn), the Sands, the Golden Nugget, the Mirage, and ended his lifelong relationship with Steve at the Bellagio in his nineties, still showered with notoriety and respect by everyone in Vegas who knew anything about anything.

  Chapter 15

  Summer’s Over

  Our plan was to stay at Carmen’s house the night before we started high school. When her mom came in, Carmen and I were sitting on the couch upside down with our feet on the wall and our heads on the ground, handing Cheetos back and forth to each other while watching MTV as our masks dried to a crisp on our green faces. We saw her and flipped off of the couch.

  “Hello girls, I thought I’d see you two off for your first day of school,” and she immediately started tending to her beloved house plants.

  Running into the bathroom to rinse off our faces, we heard Carmen’s mom from the TV room.

  “Carmen, who put cigarettes in my potted plants? You know that is totally unacceptable.”

  When we walked in she
pointed at the plants and asked if I could believe it. She grabbed Carmen and gave her a hug in front of the TV. We went into Carmen’s room where the Beatles’ Blackbird was playing. Carmen’s mom, Ana, held on to her, and they danced in front of her closet as I lay on her waterbed painting my fingernails.

  I loved watching the way Ana twirled her fingers in Carmen’s curls while Carmen’s head dropped on her chest in the easiest way; Carmen looked like a six-year-old in her knowing mama’s arms. I sat painting, trying not to stare, and stupidly started to search my memory for a tender moment with Mom; a hug, a dance, a twirl of my hair. My smile faded as I listened to that beautiful song and tried to pretend that I, too, had some tender mother-daughter moments that I could reflect back on. As deep as I dug, there weren’t any, and I was left feeling stupid and completely inadequate. When my face unintentionally fell, Carmen squirmed away from Ana and took over painting my nails.

  The next morning, I threw on a pair of ripped up Levis and a white crew neck t-shirt, that I half-tucked into the front of my jeans, and leather thongs. Carmen wore a flowy hippy skirt with bells at the end of the tie strings and a little lavender camisole. Her mom walked us down the front steps and gave us each five dollars for lunch.

  “Have a good day, guys, and Carmen, stick with Lauren, she’s the only sense you’ve got.” We all laughed.

  Walking into our new massive school would have been terrifying without Carmen.

  “OK, Lor, let’s go to the office and grab our schedules. I’ll walk you to your first class.”

  Mandi was sitting in the middle row and tapped on the seat next to hers. She stared at me and said, “Wow, what happened to the white skin, ponytail, and baggy clothes?”

  I guess it was a shock to her since that is how she’d seen me all through junior high. Mostly alone, but not quite a loner, and covered up.

  “Summer, I guess,” I said.

  *

  Mom was in a new company called Noevir. It was a Japanese make-up company and Mom pretty much introduced it to the Northwest. She was busier than ever doing meetings day and night and traveling all over the world as one of their top people. Dad was her loyal sidekick, which left our house empty for weeks at a time.

  Noah was a senior when I started high school as a sophomore. He was the king of our high school; he made Ferris Bueller look like an introvert. Walking down the hall one day, I ran into him, surrounded by a flock of the most gorgeous girls in our school. He was wearing a Guess jacket with patches of leather on the shoulders, and Guess jeans in a gray wash, with sunglasses on and his collar popped up.

  I met Paige the way I seemed to have met many new friends. She had the locker next to mine, so we started to chat. Then she introduced me to Talia, who she’d gone to junior high with, and I introduced her to Mandi, who I’d gone to junior high with, and Mandi introduced us to Amy, who she’d met in her Science class. Within the first month of school, there were about ten of us who were pretty much inseparable. Paige had golden blonde curly hair, but she blew it out straight almost every day. With bright blue eyes, a little tiny nose and lips that curled up at the edges, it always looked like Paige was getting ready to tell you a really juicy story.

  Thankfully, Mom had the house repainted a normal light beige with brown trim and made enough to have a lawn service cut back our wild jungle to an almost presentable-looking yard. Pulling back the curtains in every window to let the light shine through made our house almost look normal. The cleaning ladies who Mom hired to come once a week must have just left because the house smelled like lemons and Windex when Paige and I walked in from the bus. While I fixed us a cinnamon raisin English muffin with peanut butter, honey, and a dusting of cinnamon, the doorbell rang. With Madonna’s Holiday blaring, and the sliding glass door open to let the fresh fall air flow through the house, Paige and I ran to the front door.

  When we opened the door, we saw a girl with long curly hair and a sleeping bag heading down the walkway to our front steps. I assumed she was at the wrong house when she waved to the car waiting in our cul-de-sac as I watched it drive away.

  Paige said, “Oh Lor, this is Jen. Jen, this is Lor.”

  Jen came in the house and threw her things on the floor. I made her a snack and then Mandi and Talia came in a few minutes later, laughing. Talia had long blonde hair that looked like she had just come off a shoot for Seventeen Magazine. Her blonde hair bounced when she walked and so did her enormous boobs that, on her tiny body, almost looked like they’d knock her off balance. She jumped on the counter in the kitchen and watched as I put the dishes in the dishwasher, and then we headed to the backyard. I jumped in our hammock that was tied between two big trees and Mandi got in next to me with her feet by my face and mine by hers. As I listened to the girls chat, I drifted away into the sky and thanked God for my friends, and that Mom had left me checks, and thanked Him for this moment with the breeze gently blowing the hair off of my face.

  A few hours later, Jen piled up the records on our record player; Journey, Madonna, and Cyndi Lauper would get us through the night. With the cabinets full, the girls and I treated our house like a dormitory; girls rotated in and out, some staying for a few nights, some for a few weeks. We were all lucky to have parents who were too busy to wonder where their kids were.

  At about six, I lit the candles that I had on the kitchen counter, and we started making dinner. Mandi worked on a beautiful salad, Jen prepared her award-winning garlic bread, and Talia set the table and then sat on the kitchen counter and watched as I made the sauce for our spaghetti. Into the simmering pot of tomato sauce, I added oregano, basil, a tiny bit of thyme, pepper, red pepper flakes and a splash of red wine, a trick I had learned from one of my Sunday morning cooking shows. Talia set the table so beautifully with red and purple rhododendrons she had cut from the massive plants that peppered our yard and grabbed a few of the candles from the counter and lined them up on the table. After an hour of laughing and eating and spontaneously dancing to Madonna, when we just couldn’t sit any longer, Noah walked in. He said hello, grabbed a huge bowl of Captain Crunch and headed up to his room to watch some TV.

  When he went upstairs, the girls started to whisper, “He’s your brother? You are the luckiest girl! He’s the most popular guy in our school, and his friends are – well – they are the hottest guys in our school!”

  After all of the girls headed home, it was assumed Jen was staying since she came with her sleeping bag and neither of us drove yet. Jen had long, dark brown, curly hair with eyes that looked either green or blue depending on the light. She did ballet with another one of our friends, Amy. Jen lay on my floor next to me, and with the lights off we chatted and laughed about how she had heard from Paige that my house was the parentless gathering place for all of our friends. So she decided to take a chance and had her friend drop her off here with her sleeping bag in tow before we’d even met. When the laughter trickled away, and our talking got slower and quieter, Jen started to talk about her mom.

  “Mom left when we were really young; she just couldn’t take my dad anymore. Since my dad worked the night shift on the ferries, it was really just my sister and me at the house. But my sister got a boyfriend, and I never really saw her, so really it was just me.” I lay above her, propped up on my elbow, so she knew I was listening, but I didn’t interrupt. “I quit going to see Mom a few years ago.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “When I crawled into my makeshift bed in their guest room I noticed that my pillow was wet. I knew I didn’t spill any water, so I put my head down and sniffed it. My mom’s boyfriend had peed on my pillow. When I told on him, Mom said I was being silly and sent me to my room with a new pillow. When I woke up in the morning, he’d laid thumb tacks all over the floor so I couldn’t get out of bed without poking my feet.”

  The tears fell from my eyes and down my elbow. I reached down and grabbed Jen’s hand.

  “You know, I’ve never told anyone that story in my entire life,” she said.

&n
bsp; I told her how sorry I was, and we fell asleep holding hands.

  Chapter 16

  Beastie Boys Rule

  Walking into Art class with Talia’s arm wrapped around mine, we smiled the first time we saw Mrs. Mroz. She looked like she was born to be an Art teacher, with bottle-red, frizzy hair, Native American-looking earrings, and crunchy orange lipstick. When she lifted her wrist, her bangles clanked and clunked, and when she spoke I instantly loved her.

  “Welcome to…” she started.

  At that moment two boys sauntered into class, the first wearing skater shorts to his knees with just the right amount of wear, vans, and a flirty smirk.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Mroz.”

  The other was also a skater-looking guy with long blonde bangs; when he shook them aside, he flashed deep brown eyes that were as sweet as honey.

  “Welcome boys. Why don’t you take a seat there next to the two young ladies; these will be your assigned seats for the semester.”

  At that, Talia grabbed my thigh and squeezed it; she was boy crazy.

  “Hey, I’m Ben,” the tan, shorter-haired guy said to us.

  “Kurt,” said the other one, shaking his bangs again and smiling.

  “Part of the creative process is interaction, so interact and get to know your neighbor,” Mrs. Mroz continued.

  Then Mrs. Mroz pushed play on her music box, and the room was filled with a mix of classical and Native American tribal music.

  Ben scooted next to Talia, and I didn’t blame him. With her golden blonde locks curled to perfection, she had the face of a California girl and the body of a swimsuit model, her blue eyes flirtatiously locked on Ben’s. Kurt scooted his stool next to mine, and we started to chat about everything. He told me that his parents were divorced, but that his dad married his best friend’s mom, so now they all got to live together.