Hole in the Middle

by Coco Simon

  My next customers were Mrs. Ellis and her daughter Elizabeth, aka Wetsy Betsy. I mean, it’s terrible that we’re friends and I still think of her as Wetsy Betsy, but I can’t get it out of my head.

  It’s not like anyone really calls her Wetsy Betsy, except for Mitchell Stewart, who is kind of a bully anyway. “Hey, Wetsy!” he’ll say when he sees her. She just ignores him, but I’m sure it bothers her.

  “Hi, Lindsay!” Elizabeth said.

  I smiled back at her. “Hey, Elizabeth.”

  “How has your summer been, Lindsay?” asked Mrs. Ellis. “Did you enjoy the rec classes as much as Elizabeth did?”

  Elizabeth and I—along with most of the kids—went to the camp that the town ran for a few hours every morning. We hung out at rec because we both liked the art classes, and Elizabeth was really good at ceramics. She helped me work the wheel so I could make a bowl for Nans.

  “It was pretty good,” I said. “I wish summer was twice as long, though!”

  “I do too!” Mrs. Ellis said. She worked at the high school, so she had most of the summer off too.

  The thing I’ve learned about working in a restaurant is that people generally want to talk to you. I guess it’s polite? They can’t just say, “Give me that donut,” so they say, “Oh, it’s so hot out that I decided to treat myself to a donut and cool iced tea to wash it down. Isn’t it just so hot?” So I end up talking about the weather a lot.

  “Pretty soon it will be Fall Fling, and I can’t believe you girls are starting up with all that soon!” said Mrs. Ellis.

  Ugh, Fall Fling again.

  When you live in a town where nothing ever happens, little things are a big deal. But I wasn’t sure what she meant by “starting up with all that.” Starting up with what? Getting dressed up? We did that already on holidays and for family things. Last year was Nans and Grandpa’s fortieth anniversary, and we all had to get really dressed up. Dad even wore a suit.

  “Enjoy the last of summer, dear!” Mrs. Ellis said.

  Elizabeth waved. “See you at the lake!” she said.

  Here’s the thing: everyone goes to the lake. But nothing really happens at the lake. We all take our towels and phones and some of us bring books, and everyone sits around talking to each other. If it’s really hot, we’ll jump in, and some kids play volleyball in the water, but mostly it’s a lot of just hanging out. On a beautiful day it’s really nice, but it also gets pretty boring by the end of the summer, with all of us running out of conversation and just staring out into the lake.

  The lake was a big deal this year because it was the first year that me and my friends were allowed to go without an adult. There were lifeguards there, but the lifeguards were mostly the older brothers and sisters of my friends.

  Everyone is always so intent on being there, though. It’s like buying tickets to a show, but there’s nothing on the stage, you know? Everyone just ends up watching each other, even though we’ve all been staring at each other for years.

  I guess there’s one thing that has changed. When we used to go with an adult, we’d sit with them. Kids hung out with their families. Since we’re going with friends now, we’re all arranged in slightly different circles. All the middle school kids sit together with the high school kids mostly at one end of the lake.

  Without Casey this summer, I mostly sat with Kelsey and her BFF, Sophia. Sometimes Molly would hang out with us too. I guess it is weird that Molly and Kelsey have totally separate friends, since they are sisters and in the same grade, but they are so different that it makes sense.

  Kelsey likes to think she’s friends with everybody, and that everyone likes her. She always cares about what people think, and she is obsessed with being in on everything.

  I still remember the fit she threw in third grade when she wasn’t invited to Anna’s birthday party. It turns out she was; Anna had just accidentally dropped Kelsey’s invitation on her way to school.

  Molly is much more of a free spirit. She could not care less what people think about her, and pretty much always says what’s on her mind, which does tend to get her in trouble. Nans says she has absolutely no filter from her brain to her mouth. But Molly is also a lot of fun, and she’s the first one to organize a kayak race across the lake or a s’mores contest to see who can build the biggest one.

  She’s really good with little kids, too, so they’re always running over to her at the lake. Molly says that when she’s old enough she’s going to babysit instead of working at the Park, but Aunt Melissa says, “Molly, family first. If we need you, we need to know you’ll be there.”

  There are only twenty-five girls in my grade, so the truth is, even if we split ourselves up, we are all kind of forced to hang out together. There are a ton of cousins and one set of twins, so there are also a lot of people related to each other. My point is, you can’t really get away from anyone. Sure, I’m going to avoid some of the meaner girls, but at some point I’m going to be in class or on a team with them.

  “Okay, Rich,” said Dad. “You got this?”

  “I got it,” said Rich, eyeing the door because a bunch of his friends from the soccer team had come in and were swarming the counter.

  “Hiiiiiii, Lindsay!” called Mason R.

  There were three Masons on Rich’s team, so they went by Mason R., Mason L., and Mason B.

  Mason R. leaned over the counter. “Hey, can you give me a dozen donuts even if I only pay for a half dozen?” He smiled.

  I smiled back. “Nope,” I said.

  Mason R. laughed.

  Rich’s friends always tried to get us to give them free donuts. Uncle Charlie brought them to every game, and each of those guys ate about four. Uncle Charlie joked that the soccer team would eat us out of business.

  “Get out of here, Linds,” said Rich, “before they try to get you to sell them the whole case at half price.”

  Dad was waiting for me off to the side of the counter. “Okay, Pops,” he said to Grandpa. “We’re off. I’ll see you later tonight!”

  Grandpa gave me a quick hug. “Are you sure your grandma Mimi’s plane is on time?” he asked, looking at his phone.

  I looked at Dad. “Mimi’s plane?”

  “Pops!” Dad yelled.

  I giggled. I guess Grandpa had just ruined some sort of surprise!

  Chapter Five Grandma Mimi

  “What?” said Grandpa. “She already knows her grandma Mimi is coming!”

  I laughed. “Well, I didn’t know she was coming today!” I said.

  “For goodness’ sake,” said Dad, throwing up his hands. “No one in this family can keep a secret!”

  Grandpa looked around. “Well, no one told me this was still a secret. They just told me her whole trip was a secret but Melissa spilled!”

  Dad shook his head. “Okay, Lindsay,” he said. “I thought it would be nice to pick up Grandma Mimi from the airport, so we have a ways to go. Let’s get out of here before Grandpa and the family also tell you what I’m getting you for your birthday and every other secret we still have.” Then he laughed. It was hard to stay mad at Grandpa for long.

  The airport is about two and a half hours away, in St. Louis. Sometimes Dad takes us to St. Louis for a weekend, which is a lot of fun. It’s so crazy different there, with so much more to do. It’s weird that you can get in a car, drive, and end up someplace that’s so different from where you started.

  “I figure we’ll get there in time to pick up Grandma Mimi,” Dad said, heading out to the highway. “Then we’ll have an early dinner and head back.”

  “We’re having dinner in the city?” I said, realizing I still had my Donut Dreams T-shirt on with a pair of shorts.

  Dad usually wore a nice button-down shirt to work with pants and nice shoes, so he always looked a little dressed up to me. And Mimi was always, always dressed up. No matter where she was, she always had lipstick on and some kind of jewelry. I tried to picture Mimi on the plane like a lot of other grandmas, wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, b
ut I just couldn’t do it.

  “Mimi wants to take you on a little surprise excursion in St. Louis,” said Dad. “And Uncle Charlie wants me to meet with one of our vendors for the restaurant, so I’ll leave you guys to it. Then I’ll pick you both up for dinner. Okay?”

  “Sounds great!” I said.

  Some people might think it’s strange that I am looking forward to hanging out with my grandma, but I love being with Mimi. It was the rest of the family that sometimes annoyed me.

  Dad is always on time for everything, so of course we got to the airport a little early. I watched people lugging bags or rolling suitcases, and I wondered where they’d been or what adventure they were heading off to.

  “What’s one place that you’ve never been that you’d like to see?” I asked Dad.

  Dad and I did this a lot, asking things like, If you could eat only one thing for twenty-four hours, what food would you choose?

  “Hmm,” Dad said. “Well, Europe was wonderful, but if it has to be someplace I’ve never been, I think I’d love to go to Japan.”

  I nodded. I always forget Dad had traveled a lot with Mom, before she got sick.

  Mom lived in France for a year during college, and when Dad went to visit her, they traveled all over Europe.

  “But you know I’m not a big traveler,” said Dad. “I like being home. It’s fun to see other countries, but I miss home when I’m away.”

  “Did Mom miss home when she was living in France?” I asked.

  “Well, she definitely missed her family and her friends,” said Dad. “And me!” He laughed. “But I think she liked learning how people lived in different cities. To some extent she had to learn how people lived in our town too.”

  I thought about that. “You mean like how we pronounce certain words?”

  “Well, that, yes,” said Dad. “But also that everyone eats dinner early or that people think it’s rude if you don’t say hello when you see them out and about, that kind of thing. When she first moved here, she could not get used to the fact that people would just walk in the front door without knocking first. For about six months, she screamed when anyone came into the house.”

  I laughed. “Well, to be fair, people only walk in if you’ve invited them over or are expecting them. It’s not like we just randomly walk into each other’s houses!”

  “Of course not!” said Dad. “But even then. One time when Casey’s mom came over, she startled Mom so much that Mom dropped an entire platter of meatballs and spaghetti she was making for dinner. There was red sauce everywhere… even on the ceiling.”

  I cracked up. “Wow, that sounds like a mess!”

  “It was,” said Dad. “There was sauce in her hair and dripping from above. And we all laughed at her, and she did not like that one bit!”

  I giggled. I was used to seeing Mom covered in paint but not sauce.

  Then I spotted Mimi striding toward us. She was hard to miss. Mimi doesn’t exactly look like a grandma, or at least not like what most of my friends’ grandmas look like.

  She wears bright red lipstick that’s always perfect—it never smudges, even when she eats (and I’ve watched her!). She is always what she calls “smartly dressed,” which means she’s usually in pants, with a nice top and a jacket and heels.

  I’ve never seen her wear jeans, and the only time she wears sneakers is when she goes for a run, which she does every day. Dad sometimes teases Mimi about wearing sweats, but we all know she doesn’t own one sweatshirt.

  Today Mimi had on these cool sunglasses and a scarf wrapped around her neck, I guess because she was cold on the plane. Her feet, as always, made a click, click, click sound with her shoes.

  “Baby girl!” Mimi cried out, and grabbed me for a big hug.

  She smelled like flowers. She took off her sunglasses and propped them on top of her head.

  “Let me take a good look at you. Oh, you are even more beautiful than ever, and…” She looked at Dad. “She’s the spitting image of Amy, isn’t she?”

  Dad smiled. “Well, she’s Lindsay, so she looks like Lindsay to me,” he said.

  “Oh, you know what I mean!” said Mimi. “Lindsay, you look more and more like your beautiful mother each time I see you.”

  She looked at me for a minute longer. I wondered if she was imagining me as Mom, or Mom with my head. Or Mom’s head on me.

  “Good to see you, Mike!” Mimi said then, giving Dad a long hug. “You seem to be faring well.”

  “I am!” said Dad.

  “You know I would have been happy to drive out to you,” said Mimi.

  “Don’t be silly,” said Dad as we walked toward the exit of the terminal. “Happy to give you some company on the trip. And we like our city trips, don’t we, Linds?” He winked. “It’s good practice for when Lindsay leaves us and moves to the big town!”

  “Oh?” said Mimi. “There’s so much to catch up on! Lindsay, I want to hear everything you’re up to! And how is my sweetie Skylar? Did you leave him at home? I was hoping he’d join us!”

  Dad grabbed Mimi’s bag and we piled into the car. “Well, I didn’t think he’d last while you went out,” he said as he started up the car engine. “Unless you take him shopping for video games.”

  “Well, I’m happy to shop for Sky, too,” said Mimi, “but all he wears are those terrible athletic clothes. He looks like he’s going to the gym all the time!”

  “Marla, that’s what all the boys wear,” said Dad.

  Mimi shook her head. “I bought him some button-down shirts,” she said. “And a few pairs of pants.”

  Dad rolled his eyes and smiled at me in the rearview mirror.

  “Where are we going today?” I asked Mimi. “Dad said it’s a surprise.”

  Mimi nodded and smiled. “Oh, it is,” she said. “It definitely is.”

  Chapter Six A Day at the Museum

  Mimi typed an address into her phone, and we were off to the St. Louis Art Museum. Before I knew it, Mimi was ready to march me into the museum, but not without first touching up her makeup and hair in the car.

  “Oh, I’m such a mess from traveling!” she said.

  I tried not to giggle as I looked at Dad, because not one hair on Mimi’s head was out of place.

  Dad pulled up in front of the museum and let us out.

  “Have fun,” he shouted as we waved goodbye.

  At the entrance, Mimi asked a man at the information desk for “a docent named Ellen Colbert.”

  The man picked up the phone and made a call.

  “She’ll be right down,” he said.

  I turned to Mimi. “Docent?” I asked.

  Mimi smiled. “A docent is a museum guide.”

  A few minutes later a woman came to the desk and said, “Marla?”

  “Yes!” said Grandma. “But you can call me Mimi! And are you Ellen?”

  Ellen nodded. “I am! Jenny told me you were coming with your granddaughter.”

  I admired Ellen’s black suit and silky white blouse. She wore black patent-leather pumps, and tiny little diamond stud earrings twinkled in her ears. She looked dressed up, yet she still managed to appear comfortable at the same time. Not an easy look to pull off.

  Mimi shook Ellen’s hand.

  “This is my beautiful granddaughter Lindsay,” she said, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Look at that gorgeous face!”

  “Mimi!” I said, and I could feel my face getting hot.

  Ellen laughed. “Oh, that’s what grandmas do!”

  She led us into the museum and started pointing out all the different paintings.

  It was incredible. Even though Mom was an artist, I had never been to an art museum before.

  Ellen smiled at me. “We have something here your grandmother has been eager to show you,” she said. “She’s been calling me nearly every day, asking, ‘Is it still on? We didn’t miss it, did we?’ ”

  I looked up at Mimi questioningly. She didn’t say anything.

  Ellen laughed. “I think
it’s time to tell her, Mimi!”

  Mimi nodded and took me by the hand.

  “There’s a special exhibit here this month,” she said. “I’m just so glad I was able to get you here in time before it ended.”

  Then we walked down a hallway and there was a sign that read, THE ST. LOUIS ART MUSEUM IS PROUD TO HONOR CLAUDE MONET. EXHIBITION ON LOAN FROM THE NATIONAL GALLERY OF ART, WASHINGTON, DC. There was a security guard at the entrance who smiled and nodded at us as we walked in.

  I gasped. Monet was my mom’s absolute favorite artist. When I walked into the exhibition, I felt like I was dreaming.

  “I’m sure your mom must have talked about Monet to you,” Mimi said, smiling.

  “Oh, you know, just… all the time,” I said. “I know he painted by observing and using his own thoughts and emotions in his art, instead of drawing things exactly as they were in real life. Is that right?”

  Ellen was nodding. She was also smiling from ear to ear.

  “Very good! Yes, it’s called impressionism, Lindsay,” she said.

  I walked over to one painting that caught my eye. It was called Palazzo da Mula, Venice. It was wonderful. I felt as if I could dip my hand into the cool blue water.

  “Mom always talked about Monet and the way he painted water,” I said.

  Mimi tapped me on the shoulder. “Let me show you one of your mom’s favorites,” she said.

  It was called Woman with a Parasol—Madame Monet and Her Son. It was a woman walking through a field of flowers, holding a parasol, with a little boy walking close to her.

  As I looked at it, I took a deep breath.

  “It’s so… soothing, isn’t it?” I said. “The puffy white clouds, the way her scarf is gently blowing in the breeze… I love how everything is so soft, and a little blurry.” I gave a little happy sigh. “I could look at this for hours.”

  “You know, when Monet was alive, his work was criticized,” Ellen said.

  “Why?” I said. “How could someone not like this?” I pointed to the painting.

  “Some critics said Monet’s work was blurry not by choice, but because his eyesight was failing,” Ellen explained. She shook her head. “They just wanted to criticize his work, instead of seeing the beauty behind it.” She sighed. “Monet is one of my favorites too.”