by Thea Thomas
“I don’t need to ‘bid’ for my mother’s attention.” I turned and looked out the window. I saw trees and had the thought that that’s one thing you missed when you lived on the seventh floor. You didn’t look out the window and see trees unless you went over to the window and looked down on them. Or like, if there was an apartment building in the redwood forest I could live on the seventh floor and see trees out the window. “I’m an only child, I get all her attention. If I can ‘place a bid,’ I’d like to bid for less attention. Sometimes I think she drags me to people like you because something’s bother her.” There. I said it. I didn’t know if it made me feel better, but it was my truth.
Dr. Carcionne nodded. She picked up the file and started writing again.
“Well,” I said, “now we’re getting somewhere!” But in fact, the rest of the hour went from boring, to more boring, to dreadful.
That night at the dinner table there was an endless discussion between Mom and Dad about “Nikki’s condition.” Finally I could stand it no longer.
“You know, I’m sitting right here. I’m not, like a chair or something. And I’m not nine or ten anymore, either. I mean, it hurts my feelings to have you talk about me like, ‘oh, the seafood tastes a little off tonight,’ or something.”
Dad looked at me with apology in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Nikki. You’re absolutely right. Absolutely. Go you your room so we can talk about you behind your back.”
My mouth fell open, then I saw the twinkle in his eye. He leaned over and patted my hand. “Just teasing, Pumpkin Patch. She’s right, Clarice, she’s not a little kid anymore.”
“Well, I’m sorry, too,” Mom said. “But I don’t know what to say to her when she’s accused me of projecting. I was so embarrassed.”
I involuntarily shuddered at the memory of Mom coming into the last half of the session when Dr. Carcionne brought up the possibility that Mom was putting her worries onto me so she wouldn’t have to face them herself. I got angry and felt betrayed when Dr. Carcionne stated my observation directly to Mom. And then I felt bad to see Mom so embarrassed. Even if Mom’s reaction did seem to prove my point.
“Look,” I said, “I don’t like Dr. C. and she doesn’t like me. You’re wasting your money, or the company’s money, or somebody’s money. Excuse me, please.”
I gathered my dishes, took them into the kitchen, rinsed them and stuck them in the dish washer. I could hear Dad telling Mom that she was over-reacting. Then Mom really over-reacted by telling Dad he wasn’t around enough to know what was going on. Silence fell between them, and they didn’t even say good-night to me when I went to my bedroom.
I closed my door quietly. Some part of me wanted to fling down on the bed and cry until I had no more tears, but some other part of me said that would be a waste of energy.
“This whole thing got started because of that stupid mirror! It’s enough, already. I don’t believe in ghosts and I don’t believe in the people in the mirror.”
I went into the closet and whipped the sheet off the mirror.
Well, I thought, it was a good night for arguing. Because there in the smoky mirror a man and a woman were furiously facing one another.
Chapter IV
Between a rock and a hard place – that’s how I felt last night when I’d seen the people in the mirror again. Mom and Dad arguing about me at the dining table, and the woman and the man in the mirror, stomping off in different directions right after I unveiled them so I couldn’t show my folks the reason for my weirdness. I could only cover the mirror up again and close the door to the closet. Then I’d spent a lousy night of not being able to sleep.
When I woke up in the morning I was not relishing encountering the stony silence between Mom and Dad. I stayed in my room until the last minute.
“Hey, sleepy head, come on – it’s getting late!” Dad called cheerily. Well, maybe that was a good sign, at least Dad seemed happy. Sometimes, though, it just meant Dad was over it and Mom wasn’t. In which case, his good mood irritated her all the more.
“Coming!” I gathered my books and purse and hurried to the breakfast nook. Mom wasn’t up yet.
“Good morning, Twinkle Toes,” Dad said. “Sit down, I’ve got something to say. Your mom made the point I don’t spend enough time with the two of you lately. Well, before we moved I was all preoccupied with getting moved, and since we moved I’ve had to put in extra hours at the new job to get up to speed. I had it in my mind that in six months I’d have more time for my family.”
He ran his fingers through his hair which made it stand even more every-which-way. “But your mother made me realize that’s too far off. As usual, she’s one-hundred percent right.”
“As usual,” I interjected, perhaps a bit sarcastically – sarcasm lost on my Dad.
“Anyway, I need to I spend uninterrupted quality time with the two of you soon. So – I’m taking Friday off next week. One of the guys at work was talking about a fabulous lodge at the beach that he goes to when he needs some time away from it all. I’m reserving a couple rooms for three days. We’re going to have some family fun, or know the reason why!”
Mom walked into the kitchen, a big smile on her face.
“Wonderful,” I said loving the idea. “Maybe there’ll be sun!”
Dad’s face wrinkled up into a bit of frown. “From what I’ve heard I wouldn’t count on that. But it’s still is beautiful – giant trees, peace and quiet, nature all around and right on the ocean. Different flora and fauna than you’re used to. It’ll be fun to explore. ‘Totally awe-inspiring’ Ned said.” Dad looked over at Mom until she met his gaze. “And romantic, totally romantic.”
“I don’t mind that,” Mom answered, returning her attention to dish washing.
Oh, great, I thought. Nikki, the third wheel.
My mind got caught up in a fantasy that included the gorgeous and mysterious boy next door. I allowed myself a moment of wild internal story-telling wherein I invited him to go with us. Yeah, right. Like I’d have the courage to do that. I wouldn’t, but the dream doesn’t hurt anyone, I retorted to that negative piece of my mind.
Dad put his hand to his mouth as if he was holding a microphone. “We have a blip on our radar screen – it just came out of the ozone. Looks like a UFO – no... yes... no. It’s – why it’s Nikki, returning to planet earth!”
“Funny Dad, I’m right here.”
“Tell us, Miss Francis, what’s it like out there?”
Mom giggled.
I shook my head. “Enough, Dad. I’m just thinking about your plan. I can hope there’ll be sunshine, can’t I?”
“Sure,” Dad said. “Hope is great. But don’t plan.”
At school, my attention was torn between the work at hand, thinking about next week-end, and last, but absolutely not least, keeping my eyes open for the boy next door. Yes. it had become my one particular obsession.
Every time I saw a thin, dark-haired boy, I’d oh-so-casually hurry up to him, then slowly, and ever more casually, wander by, giving a side-long glance. But it was never “HIM.”
I noticed something, though – now that I actually looked at people, people looked back, smiling, and a some actually said “hi.” It was pretty amazing. I felt a lot better about myself and school by the time I got home.
When I came through the door, Mom was just finishing something Mozart at the piano. She turned and smiled at me. “How was your day?”
“Good, Mom. Just – sort of the best day I’ve had since I got here.”
“Oh? How so?”
“I don’t know why, but a bunch of people said ‘hi’ to me. Just like that, for no reason.”
“You mean, not one’s said hi to you since you started school here?”
“Well, yeah, Mom, I told you, no one
talks to me. Saying ‘hi’ is like – talking.”
“I thought you were exaggerating. Like when you say we ‘never have cheesecake,’ but we do, frequently.”
“Okay. Let me clarify. Literally no one has talked to me at school until today. But figuratively we never have cheesecake.”
“What did you do today that was different?” She patted the piano bench and I sat by her.
“Why does it have to be me?”
“Because if a whole bunch of people spontaneously behave in a different way, there must be something in common going on. As you are the constant in this situation, you must have done something different. I’ll bet the idea of going away for the weekend cheered you up, and you pulled your eyeballs up out of your shoelaces and made some eye contact.”
How does she do that?
“And here’s something else to make this the best day ever, she continued. “Since we’re going away next Friday and have a lot to do Thursday evening, I cancelled your appointment with Dr. Carcionne next week.”
I grinned with every smile muscle in my face. “Fantastic! If you’d told me that before I went to school this morning, I would have had everyone in three grades saying hi to me!”
bethov
The next week I was the happiest I’ve been since we moved to this off-world place. In fact, I even began to notice the beauty of Seattle. Okay. Truth, it is beautiful. A person just has to get into its mood, which is a very different kind of mood from Laguna Beach.
And, big plus, although I never saw “the” boy at school, I did see him once, going into our building when I was a block away. So – at least I knew he was real. And what’s more, it confirmed that he lived there or had some reason to occasionally be there.
And then a couple of girls asked me if I wanted to go to a movie Friday night. I was sorry to have to say I was going to the beach, but when I told them where I was going, they let me know that that was pretty cool. Suzanne said, “That lodge is my favorite place on the planet.” Even more to look forward to.
And then Suzanne said, “okay, we’ll go to a movie next week then.” So it came out better and better, because for the first time in ages, in eons, I had two week-ends in a row with something to look forward to!
And poof! it was Friday morning. Dad banged around in the kitchen making breakfast, singing “Someone’s in the kitchen with Dinah,” at the absolute tip-top of his voice. I crawled out of bed and toward the kitchen – after all, it was only five-thirty a.m. and this was supposed to be a vacation day. I met Mom stumbling sleepily toward the kitchen too.
“Sweetheart!” Mom tried to get Dad’s attention. “DEAREST! We live in an apartment, not on an acreage. The neighbors will be dialing 911 pretty soon if you don’t tone it down.”
Dad nodded and turned it down a few decibels, but his voice still surely penetrated nearby walls and I hoped with all my heart that my gorgeous neighbor wouldn’t think my dad too weird.
“Dad, it’s supposed to be a day off,” I pointed out as he – at last! – lapsed into a hummed version of “Dinah.” “Why are you making breakfast in the middle of the night?”
“’Cause, Sugar Lump, I don’t want to waste a moment. Get dressed, come have breakfast. You can sleep in the car, if you can sleep while riding through some of the most beautiful country on the little planet known as Earth.”
“We won’t be able to see ‘the most beautiful country on the planet’ in the night. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re at the north pole – it doesn’t get light here until noon.”
“It does seem that way,” Mom laughed. “But your dad is right, it’s good to get going early. I’m sure there’ll be enough light to see the outlines of trees by the time we get on the road.”
A couple hours later, we were nearly out of the city. I realized I was glad we got an early start. I watched the beautiful landscape, the trees, the rising sun, the glint of water, the charming little houses flow by the car window, all of it like reflections in a river. But somehow, somewhere along the road, I actually did fall into a deep sleep and dreamed of the landscape. Suddenly Dad shook me awake. “We’re here, Sleeping Beauty, wake up.”
“Did I fall asleep?” I asked, amazed.
“That, or an excellent imitation.”
I sat up and looked out the window – I couldn’t believe my eyes! The most beautiful, romantic and huge lodge lay stretched before me among towering evergreens. A spicy pine-like aroma mingled with a salty sea smell came right into the car really woke me up. I climbed, yawning, out of the car, and my yawn turned to a gasp. The ocean was immediately behind me, the parking lot on a precipice high above it. “Wow-oh-wow,” she whispered. “Am I still sleeping?”
“Breathtaking, isn’t it,” Mom said, handing me a piece of luggage. “As usual, our Dad was right.”
“More right than even I knew.” Dad dug out the last rest of the luggage from the trunk of the car. “It’s fabulous. Let’s go!” Not even waiting to see if we were with him, he headed for the fairytale lodge.
“Yeah, let’s go!” I scurried after him.
We were soon checked into a rustic, open-beamed suite – two bedrooms with a living room between. The furniture, the walls – everything – warm earth and orange and rose tones, with large, rustic, lodge-style pine and cedar log furniture. I stepped out on our living room deck to take in a breath-taking view of the ocean through the craggy forest. I breathed in the view, the pine scent, and the crisp ocean air. Mom and Dad came out of their room and joined me.
“Incredible,” I said quietly.
“Umm-hum...” Dad inhaled deeply too.
“Starving!” I exclaimed.
“Already?” Mom asked, while at the same moment Dad said, “yeah, me too!”
“I’m out-numbered,” Mom moaned.
We ambled down to the dining room. It was built over the rocky precipice and we literally hung out over the water.
“Wow-oh-wow!” I pulled my chair right up to the floor-length window.
“I agree,” Mom leaned back in her chair and looked away from the view.
“What’s the matter, my pet?”Dad asked.
“Vertigo.”
“Maybe you should sit over here, with your back to the view,” I suggested to Mom.
“No way – you know the old saying, ‘never turn your back on the ocean’.”
“I didn’t know you were spooky about heights, Mom, I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”
“A waitress came up to them. “Have you folks decided what you’d like?”
“Not quite yet,” Dad said. “We’re still drinking in the view. But I’m wondering if we could have a table back a bit from the windows. It’s a little too awesome here.”
The waitress laughed. “No problem. Some people fight to get these tables, and some people fight to get away from them. I’ve got a nice little booth back there on solid ground.”
Chapter V
I had never, ever known two-and-a-half days could possibly go so fast. It was wonderful and also kind of sad. It was wonderful, because Mom and Dad got all romancy, and they were so happy they kept hugging me as if they’d just made me all over again.
And it was sad, because everything was so-o-o romantic, and here I was, all alone. Not even a sort of boyfriend to dream about – just the neighbor, a complete and total stranger.
But it was good to take a break from the spooky mirror, and that mirror didn’t seem nearly so disconcerting or important, or even real, here in magic-land at the ocean.
I spent two glorious days doing nothing much other than breathing deeply and waking through the woods or along the beach. On Sunday, early in the afternoon after we’d lingered over a brunch, we took the flight of steep and rugged steps down to the ocean and walked al
ong the shore. It would be the last time to take this walk until I returned some unknown day in the future.
The shear face of the rocks rose up beside me, and the fantastic shapes of the ancient evergreens were intertwined, leaning out over the precipice overhead. A fog horn hooted from somewhere across the water like a lone owl, the sound carried across the cottony fog as if it was a carefully wrapped gift. The whole picture, bathed in a scent that gave me prickly skin, was so exciting, so wild and strange, with the evergreens and damp earth and seaweed and sea air.
Mom and Dad walked ahead of me, arms wrapped around each other, their hair blowing in the wind. They looked sooo beautiful – totally like a perfume ad. Just watching them here, in this magical place, touched a soft spot in me, and I found myself walking along with tears rolling down my cheeks. They were so completely in love with each other!
Suddenly I understood something I’d never known before about LOVE. Really real love – how all the arguments and differences of opinion and different wants and likes and don’t wants and don’t likes – didn’t, in the end, matter very much. It was all part of the tension that made each person interesting to the other.
It answered a big question that had bothered me about why I had an obsession to be in love with someone, when relationships looked as though they were more work and pain than they were worth. But it wasn’t more work and pain than it was worth as long as two people loved one another. Somehow, in some strange way, love was a particular kind of glue that made all the other pieces of the puzzle of two different people fit together. It was more than glue, even. It was a kind of mortar, filling up holes and softening hard corners.
WOW!
That was a lot to learn on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Dad turned and looked over his shoulder at me.
