by Connie Lacy
Once the greetings were out of the way the visit started out well enough. Lots of laughter. Dinner out. Breakfast out. Mom went by the network to take care of some business. And, of course, she went to the plastic surgeon’s office to get ready for the surgery. Then three days after she arrived, she went under the scalpel while I was at school, insisting that nobody needed to sit in the waiting room for her all day long.
After spending one night in the hospital, she came home and hibernated in her room, her face covered with bandages like a mummy. And it was all downhill from there.
Grandma and I went to the book store and library and got some books she’d asked for: a history of Afghanistan; a book on Israel and the Middle East; a book on North Korea; some bestselling novels and enough magazines to supply a dentist’s waiting room. We also scoped out some movies. She said she didn’t have much of a chance to see movies so she loved to watch the recent hits when she came home. And I got some board games down, thinking we could play Monopoly and Clue. It was always fun playing games with Mom. She was so funny. Jokes would fly when we sat down to play a game.
But she felt lousy. She didn’t come out of her room much. And when she did, she was quiet. I kept hoping she’d start feeling better.
One day, about three weeks after her surgery we were eating supper. Grandma had fixed my favorite – homemade vegetable lasagna with zucchini and spinach. We were all enjoying our meal when Mom’s phone rang.
“Doing great, Rob. How’s by you?”
Interesting, I thought, how animated she suddenly seemed. She’d barely raised her voice above a whisper since her surgery, but now she was chatting loudly and sounding totally upbeat.
“Yeah, not the most fun I’ve had, but I’m gonna be one gorgeous babe when you see me in a couple of weeks.”
“Megan,” Grandma whispered.
She motioned for me to follow her into the kitchen.
“Yep, Iraq’s been a great assignment. But the action’s in Afghanistan now.”
I eased out of the room, carrying my plate and glass with me.
“Hell, no. Not D.C.”
We walked through the kitchen and down the hallway. But my mother’s voice had gotten louder.
“Yeah, uh-huh, a plum assignment. But Rob, you should know me better by now. I want figs, guavas, olives – not plums. Know what I mean? It’s just not me.”
Once inside my room, Grandma closed the door. But Mom was so loud, we couldn’t help but hear every word.
“Sure, I’m flattered, but…”
Grandma took a bite from her plate as if to say this was what I should do too. Like eating our lasagna in the bedroom was perfectly normal.
“But, Rob…”
I poked my food with my fork, but I’d lost my appetite.
“You know where I want to go! And you know I’ll do a fantastic job.”
I looked at Grandma but she avoided my eyes, lifting another forkful to her mouth.
“Why doesn’t Mom want to work in Washington?”
“I don’t know, honey.”
“Wouldn’t that be a good job?”
Instead of answering, Grandma took her plate and glass and hurried from my room towards the kitchen, leaving the door ajar.
My mother continued blabbing into the phone. But I wasn’t listening to her words anymore. It was like mall music – to be ignored.
I was imagining living in Washington. I’d been there on vacation and seen the White House, the statue of Abraham Lincoln, the Smithsonian – the usual tourist stuff. It seemed like a neat place to me. I was sure we could get a nice condo there and I could make new friends. And even if I didn’t, it wouldn’t be any worse than going to LaVista. But if my mom took a job in Washington, the important thing was that we could be together. I could see her every day. We could have breakfast together. We could talk over dinner every evening. We could do all kinds of things together. It would be a dream come true. So why didn’t she want the job?
She’d always made out like she didn’t have a choice in the matter. Like she was a foreign correspondent and she’d evaporate if she stayed too long in the land of McDonald’s and Macy’s. But here she was, sitting in the dining room, trying to talk her boss out of forcing her to come home.
Some lines came to me and I jotted them down in my nightstand notepad.
Dictators granting interviews,
Protesters marching for rights,
Generals ordering crackdowns,
Reporters getting sound bites.
Later that night I heard muffled voices.
Easing my door open, I tiptoed down the hallway, careful not to step on the squeaky floor board. I stood still, hardly breathing.
“She wants to live with you, Abby.”
“She’s just a kid. She doesn’t know what’s best.”
“And you do?”
“Yes, I do.”
There was a pause and I imagined them glaring at each other.
“Best for who? Megan? Or yourself?”
Grandma’s voice was cold.
“For both of us, Mother. For both of us! And you know I’m right!”
Then silence. I held my breath.
“Hogwash,” Grandma hissed.
There was a rustling. Someone was standing up. I scurried back to my room and closed the door just as that someone started down the hall.
Lying in bed now, many long months later, I remembered how my mother and grandmother hardly spoke to each other the next day. The memories left me drained. An image of my mother’s face swathed in bandages drifted through my mind as I closed my eyes.
~Ten~
The gory details
Saturday arrived before I was ready. I had bought new black shoes, knowing full well that no matter how hard I tried, I would stick out like a banana on an apple tree. But I just couldn’t bring myself to buy the styles I knew Rikki and her friends would be wearing. The bare midriff tops, the low-slung, tight, rhinestone-studded jeans and shiny capris. Colorful slide shoes. Giant earrings. Hair done up with shiny barrettes and combs. Bright, sparkly nail polish on long fingernails, shiny lipstick and eye make-up. Diamond belly button rings. All glam, all the time.
I looked in the mirror. My black jeans rode just below my waist. My white, long-sleeved top overlapped my pants. The blue starburst design on the front looked okay. My shoes were black all right, but they were more like something you’d wear hiking, not nightclubbing. I wore light mauve lipstick but no other make-up. My hair was parted in the middle and hung over my shoulders. My only jewelry was the gold hoop earrings Grandma had given me for my birthday. I thought about wearing some of the hand-made earrings Mom had sent me but they all screamed for attention. Which wasn’t my style.
It was 11:23. I reached into my top dresser drawer and pulled out a blue tampon box. I rummaged beneath the tampons and found a pink plastic envelope and slid a wad of folded bills out, counting out five hundred dollars. Grandma would probably pay for a new camera but I wanted it to be all mine – something I bought myself with my own money. And while I had a debit card I normally used, this was gift money I’d squirreled away – my own secret stash, just in case. Just in case of what, I didn’t know exactly. But I always liked having my own money tucked away that no one knew about.
When I first starting socking money away I was eight or nine and I had this idea that I could save up for a plane ticket. It started with putting quarters and dollar bills in a pair of Little Mermaid slippers I hid in the back of my closet. The plan was to take the MARTA train to the airport and buy myself a ticket to fly to Baghdad where she was on assignment. Later, the plane ticket would’ve been to Tel Aviv, where she was assigned for a while. Then Baghdad again. As I got older, I think I knew I wouldn’t be flying to visit my mother. But there was always that notion that if something happened, I might need that secret savings.
I slung my purse over my shoulder. Time to go. I took a deep breath. I figured I’d hang with the sisters for a while, then go to the camera store
by myself.
“Have a good time,” Grandma called as I headed out the door.
Ironic, how she thought I was going to the mall to have fun with some girlfriends. She didn’t know I was about to upchuck.
The ’99 Audi A4 was my mom’s car. She bought it, brand new, on one of her visits. And because she was home so little, it was still in great shape. Very pretty, light aqua, hardly any dings. I always looked forward to riding in it as I was growing up. But now that it was mine, it didn’t seem quite so cool. I wished it were still my mom’s car, if you know what I mean.
My watch said 11:54 as I locked the car in the mall parking lot. Early, of course. How uncool. I found a table on the outer edge of the food court and waited. And waited. And waited. Until finally, nearly half an hour later, I heard a hoot of laughter. Then another. And I knew the sisterhood had arrived.
A parade of bouncing, flouncing black and white appeared, Rikki leading the way. She was wearing black and white checked capris, ultra high-heeled, black platform slides, a soft, white top with black swirls embroidered along the bottom, and red feather earrings. Her tiny braids swayed as she walked. Her face was cover girl perfect, as usual, with coral lipstick. Sakia had on black sparkly bell-bottom jeans and a black and white striped, short-sleeved top that left her midriff bare so you could see her perfect, pierced belly button. Her hair was covered with a big white cap. She had on white, platform, slide sneakers. They were all gussied up like that except Courtney who looked like their escort in a black tux and white vest.
They looked like they were about to record a music video or something. They just needed cameras and lights. Needless to say, every head turned in their direction. They were laughing and talking and joking around, basking in the attention.
For a fleeting second, I considered dashing for the exit, but took a deep breath instead as they called out to me.
“Hey, ya’ll! There’s Megan!”
“Hello, girlfriend,” Rikki gushed.
My face was so hot. The girls swarmed the table, some pulling up chairs and sitting down, others standing.
“Glad you could make it,” Rikki said, leaning over the table so she could be heard. “And look at you – all duded up in black and white. Doesn’t she look good, girls?”
“Lookin’ good!” they all chimed in together, like it was something they practiced.
I was sweating.
“You seen Deborah?” Rikki asked me.
“I wouldn’t recognize her.”
Rikki and the others scanned the food court.
“Here she comes now,” said Alicia.
“Hey, girl! ‘Bout time you got here!” Rikki called out in her you’re-part-of-the-group way.
Deborah grinned shyly as she approached. She was short, slightly plump with wavy black hair that hung to her shoulders. Like the rest of us, she was wearing black and white – a short black leather skirt, black boots and a black and white dotted blouse with ruffles. She had dark friendly eyes and glasses with pink frames.
“Megan, this is Deborah. Deborah, this is Megan,” Rikki said.
“Time to eat!” Alicia announced.
We scattered and foraged for food. When we all sat down again, everyone was talking at the same time. Except for me and Deborah. We sat across from each other with the rest of the sisters crowded around us.
“I saw you with James,” Alicia said to Amber.
“Ooooo-ey!” Sakia squealed.
“We’re just friends,” Amber said.
“Uh-huh, just friends,” said Alicia, rolling her eyes.
“Did he ask you out?” Imani asked.
Amber closed her eyes and rolled her head from side to side like she wasn’t going to tell. All the girls giggled.
“I knew it! I knew it!” Alicia cried.
“You go, girl!” said Imani. Then she turned towards Rikki. “And you – the one who’s always talking bad about sagging pants – I saw you talking with Dunk in the parking lot yesterday after school. And don’t deny it.”
“I’m not denying anything,” Rikki said. “I was telling him to pull his pants up.”
“Yeah, right, mm-hm!” said Imani. “And I heard him ask you out.”
There were catcalls all around.
“Well, did you hear me tell him I was busy with my girlfriends today?” Rikki replied, full of sass.
The girls cheered and hooted.
“You got a boyfriend, Megan?” Rikki asked me suddenly, like she was trying to shift the attention away from herself.
I swallowed my bite of Chinese stir fry and cleared my throat. It was funny as long as they were giving someone else grief.
“No,” I said.
“Does that mean there’s not one single, solitary boy in the entire school you’d like to sit next to at the movies?”
Amber asked the question but all eyes were on me. I scratched my head like I was really trying to come up with a good answer. I thought of Kieran. It might be nice to sit next to him at the movies, I thought. But no way I was gonna spill those beans.
“No.”
“Yes!” Rikki said. “You do like someone. Who is it?”
“No, really,” I said.
They all had their “yeah, right” faces on. Then, just when I thought my hair might start smoking, they turned to Deborah.
“How about you, Deborah?” Rikki asked.
“There’s a boy in one of my classes. He’s real cute. But, it’s like, he doesn’t even know I exist.”
“Have you tried talking to him?” Courtney asked.
Amber’s phone started playing the pounding beat of a Rihanna song and she walked away so she could talk in private. The other girls laughed, sure it was James.
And it was boy talk for thirty minutes. Who was cute. Who was in love with who. What Amber should wear when she went to the movies with James. The red leather pants and matching jacket or her new Armani jeans and her new pink top. Which boys they’d like to ask out. Where they’d like to go on a first date. How many dates you had to have before you had sex. But then, finally, Rikki put a stop to it.
“Okay, ladies, enough already. Please put your phones on vibrate.”
The girls giggled at that one.
“I want to say how happy I am that we are forming a multi-ethnic sisterhood,” Rikki said. “We’re talking with two more girls right now. Kim Lee and Laura Peterson. Kim’s family is from Korea. She started at LaVista this year. Laura is also new. Her family just moved here about a month ago from South Carolina.”
It was like listening to a politician. That’s what Rikki reminded me of. A born leader. I could picture her getting elected to Congress or something.
“So, if you see either of them, please say hello, okay?” she continued. “Good. Now, another thing I want to say is that I think it would be cool if we picked a name for our group.”
“We are the world!” Courtney shouted, smiling at her own joke.
The girls groaned.
“Multi Mamas,” Alicia suggested, grinning like she thought she was a genius.
“I like it,” Courtney said.
“The Ya Ya Sisterhood,” Amber said.
“Already taken,” said Imani.
“Well, then, the Ha Ha Sisterhood,” Amber said.
“Ha ha,” said Sakia. “How about Trailmix?”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed out loud. It was so ridiculous, yet so fitting.
“Trailmix?” said Amber.
“Trailmix,” Sakia replied.
“I like it,” said Imani.
“How about this?” Rikki said. “The Trailmix Sisterhood.”
“Trailmix, for short,” Sakia said.
Everyone nodded.
“I’m a sunflower seed,” said Sakia.
Loud laughter.
“I’m a marshmallow – soft and chewy,” Imani said.
More laughter.
“I’m a banana chip,” said Deborah.
“Banana chip. That’s a good one!” Courtney cried. “And
I’ll be a peanut!”
Squeals of laughter.
“I’m an M & M!” Amber said. “A brown one – you know, brown? Amber?”
“We get it, we get it,” said Rikki.
“I wanna be a peanut M&M,” said Alicia. “A red one.”
Everyone was giggling.
“Me,” said Rikki, “I’m gonna be a Brazil nut. And Megan – she’s a yogurt raisin!”
The girls howled. I had to laugh too.
After they all congratulated themselves and each other and we finished eating, we headed into the mall. We must’ve looked like a gaggle of penguins gathering on the Antarctic ice shelf, preparing for a fishing expedition. Everyone stared at us as we moseyed along. We laughed at the headless mannequins with erect nipples, drooled over the cookies that smelled so good and we kept our eyes peeled for good-looking boys. I could always tell when somebody spotted one, because a certain, tell-tale giggling erupted.
“Ooooo, he looks like your type, Rikki,” said Amber.
“No way. I’m not gettin’ close to any boy who wears his pants below his butt!” Rikki said.
“Tell that to Dunk!” whispered Sakia.
Everyone followed her gaze. It was good-looking, wise-cracking Dunk. He and two buddies were looking in our direction. I use that term loosely. It was Rikki he was staring at. She responded with a sexy smile and kept walking, her hips swaying a little more than usual, I noticed.
“What a coincidence,” said Courtney, giving Rikki an accusing look.
Cackles and snickers. Everything was funny.
“You gonna stop and talk with him?” Imani asked.
And that’s when I noticed Imani and Courtney were holding hands.
“No,” Rikki said. “He knows this is my girls night out. Or girls day out, whatever.”
Everyone had Macy’s credit cards so we made a beeline for Macy’s and rummaged through the racks of capri pants, shorts, tops and dresses. One by one, the girls made their way to the dressing rooms. But my attention span for browsing at clothes was short.
“I think I’m gonna walk over to the camera store,” I said to Rikki.
She was eyeing a rack of bikinis.
