She looked at me and rolled her eyes, approaching the table with baby steps, careful, I guess, not to knock anyone else over on the way.
“Sit,” I demanded in a friendly voice, “before you wreck the place.” I smiled and pulled out the chair for her. “I’m Ella.”
She smiled and sat down. “I’m Stella.”
“Stella?”
She nodded. “It actually means star, but I got the name because of Paul. My mom is a huge—”
“—Beatles fan,” we both said at the same time.
She smiled and flashed her braces. She was definitely a few years younger than me. “What the fuck?” she said, this time trying to hide her teeth.
“Let’s just say that I grew up with the Beatles as my surrogate parents. My mom almost named me Linda, but thank God, instead they went with Ella.”
“Ah,” she said, nodding her head, smiling. “Eleanor Rigby. Gotcha.”
“Impressive,” I said. It actually was. No one had ever made the connection before.
“Ask me a question,” she said smiling, still hiding her teeth behind her hand.
“A question?” I said, not quite sure what she was getting at.
“About the Beatles,” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Okay,” I said, searching my brain for one of Mom’s. I looked outside. A homeless guy was pushing a heavy shopping cart just outside the window. He was wearing at least three big sweaters, even though it was a warm day.
“Aha,” I said out loud, when I finally remembered one. “What was the original title for ‘Yesterday?’”
“Ah, that’s easy-peasy.” She smirked. “‘Scrambled eggs,’” she said without a doubt.
“Bingo.” I bowed. “You know, I actually really like the name Stella. Besides being a true Beatles baby, I’m a big fan of Stella McCartney. When I was about fourteen, I so wanted to be her. Not as in Paul’s daughter, but as in Stella McCartney, the designer.”
“So, what happened?”
“I guess I just found other things more interesting besides dressing up in clothes and designer shoes.”
“Huh,” she said, looking like she was trying to figure out what to say next.
I turned around and looked toward the restrooms. Why is she taking so long? I looked at Stella and tapped my fingertips demonstratively on the table. “I guess I was right about the nose powdering,” I joked. I leaned back in my chair and looked out the window again. The homeless guy had moved to the other side of the street. He was sitting on a cardboard box, playing some kind of weird-looking instrument.
Suddenly, Stella moved her chair closer to me and looked at me nervously. “Eleanor, or Ella...” She stopped to clear her throat. “I know it’s kinda personal, but I, um, kinda saw you coming out of Miss Dexter’s door just a little while ago. Are you, um, you know?” She looked down at her hands and started to peel off some of her pink nail polish.
Why hadn’t I seen this coming from miles away? Why else would she ask to sit with me, a perfect stranger, at some random Starbucks? It was not random. I looked at her and nodded. “You?”
She nodded. “About two months. You?”
“Not quite sure. Maybe seven or eight weeks?” I turned and looked toward the restroom again. What is taking her taking so long?
“Oh.” She looked up with a chunk of blond hair covering half her face. “I didn’t mean to... it’s just when I saw you here, I figured... see, I haven’t talked with anyone else and, you know.”
“I’m guessing your parents have no clue?” I looked down at her nails. She had peeled off half the nail polish on one hand.
She shook her head hard. “No. Yours?”
“No, I haven’t told anyone yet, besides Miss T.”
“Miss T?”
“The missus in the restroom, powdering her nose.” I turned and pointed in the direction of the restrooms, and on cue, Miss T appeared in the doorway. “Well, speaking of the little devil... Hey, Miss T, over here,” I yelled across the room. Miss T looked up and waved her scarf at me.
Stella leaned back in her chair and looked at Miss T waltzing down the narrow hallway. “Isn’t she rather small?”
“Small?” I looked at Miss T. “She’s smaller than small. She’s pretty much a midget.” I laughed.
“Oh, I see you’re making friends already.” Miss T looked all proud at me with a smiling, powdery face. “What’s so funny?”
“You, Miss T,” I said and made eyes at Stella.
“Well, at least she’s honest,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Stella.
“Miss T, this is Stella.” I pointed at Stella with both index fingers and smiled.
“Oh my, Ella and Stella. How remarkable!”
Stella looked at me and shrugged her shoulders.
“You two young girls might not think anything of it,” she said, slightly shaking her head at me like Grandma, “but as an old English teacher, I have always enjoyed especially acronyms and rhymes.”
Stella, suddenly looking a little flushed, got up from her chair and offered it to Miss T, but Miss T shook her head and gestured for her to sit down.
“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. I’m old, but my legs are still working.” She turned around and grabbed a chair from the table next to us. She sat down next to me and tapped her fingers on the table. “So, five o’clock tea then? My treat.” She looked at Stella and smiled. “You too, of course.”
“Um, five o’clock tea?” Stella looked at me for help.
“It’s just a cup of tea,” I explained to Stella, rolling my eyes.
“Oh, no it’s not. It’s a whole lot more than that; it’s cucumber sandwiches, cheese, biscuits, cookies, homemade cake, and homemade jam. You name it. It’s not just a cup of tea,” Miss T said, trying to imitate my voice.
“Yes, but here it’s pretty much just a cup of tea, right?” I placed my hand on Miss T’s shoulder.
“Well yes, but in the old country it is so much more. It’s more like supper,” she said with an important nod like it explained it all.
“Supper?” Stella scooted her chair closer. “Are you British, Miss T?” she said, tucking a chunk of hair behind her ear again.
Miss T shook her head. “No, Georgie’s mom was,” she explained.
“Georgie?” Stella looked at me for help again.
“Miss T’s late husband,” I explained.
“Oh.” Stella nodded and grabbed her backpack from the table and placed it on the back of her chair.
Miss T nodded. “Rest his soul. And hers, too,” she said with a spirited voice. “Well then. Tea?”
“Does that mean that cucumber sandwiches are out?” I teased. Stella smiled.
“Ha, ha, ha. Very funny.” Miss T got up and looked at Stella. “Would you like some?” We both nodded. She clapped her miniature hands together. “Then tea it is—for Miss T, Stella, and Ella.” She grabbed her purse and left us alone again.
“So, um, how come you brought her along?” We both looked at Miss T making her way through a crowd of tall people standing on both sides of the coffee and cups display.
“Well, as weird as it may sound, um, she is actually one of my best friends, and she kinda volunteered to come, well, not exactly; she volunteered for us to take her car to Seattle and then she kinda had to come.” I cleared my throat and looked at Stella.
“You ambushed her?” She looked at me with her mouth halfway open.
“I guess.” I leaned back in my chair and looked at Miss T from across the room. She was already at the counter, talking to the young Starbucks guy, probably harassing him with one of her five o’clock tea anecdotes. “That wasn’t very nice of me, huh?”
“I guess not,” she said with a distant smile.
We both looked at Miss T. She was down on her knees, inspecting the entire cookie collection.
“You think she’s looking for a cucumber sandwich?” I giggled and looked at Stella, but she wasn’t listening at all; she was staring out the win
dow, biting her pink nails.
“So, what are you going to do?” she finally said, still looking out the window. “I mean with the, um, the, you know.” She paused and looked around as if to make sure no one was listening in on us. “With, um, with it?” she whispered.
“I just found out yesterday so, um, I haven’t really... you know.” I looked at the woman with shiny black hair sitting at the table right behind Stella. The whole time we had been sitting there, she had been working on her laptop, but suddenly she had stopped typing altogether and was sitting perfectly still like she was concentrating hard on listening. I moved my chair closer to the table. “What about you?” I whispered, even though I somehow already knew what she would say.
“No way, I’m keeping it. My mom doesn’t know, and this is the last thing she needs right now. Mom’s in a really bad spot right now.” She looked down at her pink nails. “How about your folks?” she said, still looking down.
I looked at Miss T. She was still standing at the counter, probably harassing the poor young Starbucks guy about how to make the perfect cucumber sandwich. I wanted to say that I knew my parents would be very supportive and help me through whatever decision I made, but somehow it didn’t sound right because why, then, had I dragged Miss T along instead? So, I just told her I didn’t know, which wasn’t a lie. I really didn’t.
“As I said, I just found out yesterday,” I explained as my phone started buzzing again. I picked it up and looked at the screen. I waved my phone at Stella and smiled. “Seven missed calls from my mom. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something here.”
“Or your mom is just a very persistent woman.” She smiled.
“You can say that again.” I looked down at my phone. The word “Mom” almost stabbed me in the heart, and all of sudden I realized how much I missed her.
“Hey, I almost forgot.” Stella leaned back and grabbed something from her backpack. “Here!” she said and placed a little business card in front of me.
I grabbed the card and looked at it. It said “STELLA” in pink on one side and had a big blue Facebook logo and Facebook address on the other. I flipped the card over and looked at it again. I had never seen or heard of a Facebook card before, and I couldn’t help thinking that at the age of seventeen, I was already falling behind in the world of social networking. Great!
“Oh, I shouldn’t have done this.” Suddenly Stella stood up and started gathering her things together.
“Done what?” I placed the card on top of my phone and looked up at her.
“This!” She pointed at the both of us. “I don’t even know you, and I just... I just thought that maybe we could, um, keep in touch and, um, the thing is, I sure could use a friend right about now.” She sat down again and hid half her face behind her hair.
“Me too,” I said, and before I knew it I had grabbed her hand—not something I normally would do, I mean, this is something grandmas, moms, and aunts do, not seventeen-year-old girls, but suddenly I felt like the grown up. “But, um, here comes the part where I tell you that I don’t have a Facebook card to give to you in return. I didn’t even know they existed.”
She lifted her head and smiled. “Really? All my friends have them. It’s like totally the new accessory.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and sat up straight.
The woman with the shiny black hair got up from the table and grabbed her laptop. As she left, she looked down at me and smiled. Maybe she hadn’t been eavesdropping after all. I looked at Stella and smiled.
“How old are you exactly?” I asked, once again feeling like a total grown up.
I was right; she was fifteen going on sixteen. She had come all the way to Federal Way by taking three different buses—close to a three-hour ride. She had a real boyfriend (and not some symmetric foreign exchange student already left for Germany). His name was Ross—seventeen, handsome, football player—and he had absolutely no clue about the pregnancy, and she wanted to keep it that way. She hadn’t told a soul, not even her closest friends.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because when you’re fifteen, it’s not humanly possible to keep a secret like this. It’s that simple.”
“Uh-huh.” I said, wondering whether Maddie would be able to keep a secret like this. “I guess that would be hard,” I agreed.
“So, what about you? Where’s the dad?” she said without warning.
And just like that I was back in the foul-smelling restroom, peeing in Miss T’s tooth container, looking at the two blue lines—legs all weak, and running out of air. This was the first time someone had actually said the word “dad” and it was an even scarier word than “pregnant.” Somehow it just made it much more real, because if there was a dad, that would make me the mom.
I took a deep breath and looked at the hands lying in my lap. They sure looked like mine, but if they were, why couldn’t I move them? I tried to wiggle my toes, too, but nothing happened. It was that weird numbness again.
“Oh my, you look like you’ve just seen a ghost, dear. You okay?” Miss T was standing next to the table, carrying a tray with three cups of smoking hot tea and cookies the size of dinner plates.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I wasn’t. I had been numbed by a three-letter word.
Stella got up. “Let me help you with that.” She grabbed the tray from Miss T and together they arranged the table with cups, cookies, napkins, spoons, milk, and sugar.
“Here!” Miss T placed a cup and a giant cookie in front of me and sat down next to me.
I tried to reach for my cup—standing like two inches away from me—but my hands still couldn’t move. I looked at Stella. She was sipping her hot tea, smiling at Miss T. How could someone like her, wearing braces and a Taylor Swift backpack, be pregnant, be a mom? How could I?
“Oh, there’s nothing better than five o’clock tea even though it’s only four,” Miss T said, slurping her tea.
Stella stopped drinking and stared at Miss T. “Oh shit, it’s four already?”
Miss T looked at her little golden watch, dangling from her tiny wrist. “Ten till four, dear.”
Stella jumped up from the chair and slammed it hard against the table. “Shit, I didn’t realize it was this late. I have to go. I have a bus to catch. I’m babysitting at five thirty.”
“But your tea, dear, your cookie?” Miss T looked up at Stella and pointed at the cup and giant cookie.
“Thank you so much, but I have to go.” Stella grabbed her backpack and started to wipe the crumbs off the table. Miss T turned toward me and nodded. I nodded back and smiled, knowing exactly what she was thinking. And I was thinking that when I got older, I wanted to be an old, thoughtful and warm little fuzzy woman just like Miss T—always happy to help the next one who comes along.
“Sit down, dear, and finish your tea. No rush. We will take you where you need to go. Ella is a fantastic driver. With a stick,” she added and looked at me, “and we can go anywhere we like.” She said the last part like a little girl defying her parents. She looked at me (her five-year-old partner in crime) and winked. I gave her a thumbs-up, happy to be of help, but also happy that the whole weird numbing sensation had disappeared.
Stella stared at Miss T, shaking her head. “But, but... I live all the way up near Everett. I couldn’t have you drive me all the way up there.”
“Of course, you can, dear, of course you can.” Miss T leaned back in her chair and took a bite of a cookie the size of her own head.
Roe versus Wade
“How far along are you, dear?” Miss T turned in her seat and faced Stella in the backseat. Even though I had insisted this time that she should wear her seatbelt, she had simply refused. So, there she was, in the front seat next to me, moving around like an ant farm, really stressing me out. I adjusted the rearview mirror and looked at Stella, shaking my head as if to say, “I didn’t say a word!”
“Whatever,” she whispered, and rolled her eyes.
I turned around and looked at her. “I didn’t,”
I whispered back.
“How then?” she said out loud, to the both of us, I guess.
“What was that, dear?” Miss T said, still looking at Stella.
“Apparently, Miss T can spot a pregnant woman from outer space. What did you call it, Miss T?”
“Female intuition. I knew it right away.” Miss T smiled with pride.
“Oh,” Stella said, looking down at her lap.
For a while we just sat there in silence, watching the insane afternoon traffic going north. Even Miss T sat perfectly still in her seat.
“I was there, you know,” Miss T finally said as a huge truck passed by at full speed to the right.
“Where?” I tried to look at her with half of my right eye.
“In Washington. On January the twenty-second in seventy-three. The day they passed the law.”
“What law?” I turned and faced her. What the hell was she talking about?
“Yes, the law on abortion. Roe versus Wade,” she said, looking at the truck now straight ahead of us.
“Oh!” I said, not knowing what else to say. I adjusted the rearview mirror again and looked at Stella. Silence filled the car. I guess she was waiting for one of us to say something, but what was I supposed to say? We both looked at Miss T, who was clearly enjoying the ride, still working on her giant five o’clock cookie. Had she been there to support the law or to demonstrate against it? Was she with Roe or Wade? And who was who? And why the hell hadn’t I asked her about all of this before I had dragged her along all the way to Federal Way to listen to advice on teen motherhood, adoption, and abortion? Was abortion, as a remote option, even a real choice in her world? I looked at Stella again as I drew in a deep breath, waiting for Miss T to choose sides.
“It was a great day for me, for all women,” she continued. “That day we won the right to choose. We won the human right to decide over our own bodies.” She faced Stella and smiled. “That day they gave you a choice, girls. A choice,” she repeated as she turned toward me and smiled.
“Whew, Miss T,” I said, suddenly realizing how nervous I was. “I just realized that I never did ask you about, um, you know.” I wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans and looked at her.
Lost in Seattle (The Miss Apple Pants series, #2) Page 26
