by Robin Roseau
“Okay,” I said carefully. “And?”
“Pandora asked us to help fill out numbers a little. We were going to call you.”
“Who else are you asking?”
“It’s an Altered party,” Evie said.
“I’m not sure what that implies,” I said. “Nor do I understand why you didn’t answer my question.”
“I didn’t answer your question because we started with you,” Evie replied. “Pandora asked us to find six people or so. She wants at least half of them to be cute and sweet.”
“And you thought of me?”
“Yes, we thought of you.”
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Got ya so far.”
“We want to explain this a little then see if you want to invite any of your other friends,” Joy said. “An Altered party can be almost anything. Sometimes it’s hosted at a venue, and sometimes it’s just at someone’s home. This is at Pandora’s house, and she’s trying to do some of it on the cheap, which is why she’s looking for volunteers.”
“I’m definitely lost now.”
“Well...,” Joy continued. “A couple of years ago, we attended a witch trial.”
“Seriously?” I asked, a little surprised.
“We were the witches on trial.”
“Oh, shit,” I said. “Really?”
“We didn’t know what it was about when we got there,” Evie said. “Pandora didn’t want to tell us this time, either. I underwent questioning until I gave up Joy’s name.”
“Oh, shit! They tortured you?”
“No. They threatened to, and most of my responses were due to being Altered.”
“Shit,” I said again. “God, I don’t know.”
“That’s sort of extreme,” Joy said. “We wouldn’t have done it if we had known. The event ended with us tied to stakes and they lit a fire. It wasn’t a real fire. We weren’t hurt.”
“Someone thinks this is fun?”
“No, actually. It was a high school history class,” Joy explained. “It’s not like they could have done that to a couple of the kids.”
“Still.” I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t think Pandora is doing anything like that,” Evie said. “For that one, we were paid, although not enough. There can be other things. They could want to be French noblewomen from the 1600s, and they need servants.”
“I see.”
“That’s an example of something tame,” she said. “Pandora knows she couldn’t find volunteers herself, which is why she asked us to find them for her. If she were paying, she wouldn’t have any trouble at all. We told her anyone who gets a role that doesn’t qualify as fun is owed some sort of compensation.”
“What does that mean?”
“It could be a gift of some sort, a gift card, something,” Joy said. “Or it could be something fun at the end, but unless it’s part of the event, that would probably cost her more money than a store gift card.”
“You said she’s not paying, though.”
“She asked for people for the entire weekend,” Evie explained. “The event might not run to Sunday, but she asked us to find people who could commit for the weekend. If she hires professionals, she has to pay for the time she reserves, so that’s several hundred bucks each.”
“Times ten. That could add up.”
“And it’s not like she’s actually running it. She hired Mind on the Road.”
“Is that a good outfit?” I asked.
“They run good events, and they’re very ethical,” Joy said. “We’ve done things with them before. But understand that they ran the witch trial. Our point is this: Pandora probably picked a theme, but she isn’t the one assigning roles, and may not really know what roles need to be filled.”
“Am I going to hate this?”
“I don’t know,” Evie answered. “Possibly. Or you might love it. Or you might walk away thinking it was a wasted weekend, but hey. Gift card.”
I laughed. “You said she’s doing this on the cheap.”
“It won’t be a twenty-dollar card,” Joy said. “But it won’t be 250 either. Something in between. And it might not be a gift card. It just needs to be a meaningful gift so the guests don’t feel cheated. And she may only give cards to the people in the less appealing roles. Some of them might be really fun.”
“How about the two of you?”
“Including us,” Evie answered.
“Is she paying you?”
“No. She’s a friend. But she’ll either give us fun roles or really, really nice gifts, or we’ll never help her again.”
“You won’t be traumatized,” Joy assured me. “Mind on the Road wouldn’t do something like a witch trial with an amateur.”
“You said you were paid.”
“We were paid. Selena, do you want to be talked into this?”
I laughed. “I’m listening.”
“If you have a terrible time, we promise to make it up to you.”
“Financially?”
They both laughed. “How would you like to own us for a weekend?”
“You’d let me use your triggers?”
“If it’s a terrible time, yes,” Joy said.
“What if that’s not what I want?”
“What do you want?” Evie prompted.
“24 hours of that, then turn it around.”
“Twist our arms,” Joy said with a laugh. “Sure.”
“If it’s boring, or she’s a cheapskate…”
“We’ll work something out,” Joy promised. “We’re friends, Selena. We intend to stay that way.”
“Yeah,” I said. “All right. Sure.”
“So, the next question is: do you want to invite any of your friends?”
“Are you asking what I want, or are you making that a request?”
“Maybe a bit of both.”
“I don’t want to explain it. Should we make a conference call?”
“Sure.”
* * * *
The next evening, Joy and Evie drove us, each of them picking a few of us up. We weren’t starting at Pandora’s house, but instead at a Mind on the Road center. Joy picked me up, sharing a little kiss first. I was dressed in a skirt and blouse and asked her if that was all right.
“It’s perfect,” she said. “Nervous?”
“A little. Am I making a mistake?”
“We wouldn’t have called you if we hated these more often than we loved them,” she replied.
I nodded and gestured to the front door. I locked up, and then we hooked arms for the walk to her car.
We picked up Mary. She was in a burgundy lace dress and looked really nice. I held the car door for her, and she caught me eying her legs. “Hey!” she complained. But then she grinned. She settled in then asked, “Is it just us?”
“Evie is getting Gail and Nan,” Joy said. There were a couple other women driving straight there.
We made small talk in the car. I think we were all a combination of excited and nervous, each for our own reasons. I think Joy wasn’t worried for herself but more for Mary and me. I waited until we were parked before I set my hand on her leg. “Joy, you and Evie have become good friends. I really value what we have.”
She looked over and offered a half smile. “What if it’s horrible?”
“Then I won’t accept any more blind events, and I won’t have good things to say about Mind on the Road. That won’t change what we have.”
“Good,” she said. She set her hand atop mine. “Thanks.” She lifted my fingers and kissed them. We smiled at each other, and then the three of us climbed from the car.
* * * *
I climbed from the school bus, thanking the driver, the same way I did every day, then skipped up the driveway. “Mom! I’m home.”
“Hey, Honey,” she said, appearing in the kitchen. “How was band?”
“Fine,” I replied. “Thank God it’s Friday!”
Mom smiled. I moved to her, and we hugged. She kissed my forehea
d. “Homework?”
“Just a paper. It’s due Monday.”
“Have you started it?”
“It’s only three pages,” I continued. “I have an outline in my head. I did my research and made notes. I just have to write it. Will you read it when I’m done?”
“Don’t I always? I need you to go do the outline.”
“I have all weekend.” She rapped the top of my head. “Hey!” I complained. “Ouch! What’s that for?”
“I’m not letting you write it in a rush Sunday night, and have you forgotten what weekend it is?”
“Um.”
“Guests? I can’t believe you’ve forgotten.”
“That’s this weekend? I thought it was next weekend, and I have that thing.”
“You know you’re going to have a good time.”
“You’re going to make me babysit. Ma-ah-ommm!”
“It’s a slumber party, Honey.”
“It’s your college friends and their kids.”
“You like their kids.”
“How old is Mary? Five?”
“Oh, and you’re ancient at fifteen. And she’s seven, almost eight. But Joy is coming, and Gail. You like Gail. And your Grandma Evie is coming, too.”
“Grandma is coming?” I asked, perking up.
“It was Calypso’s idea,” Mom said. “Your grandmother was nearly a second mother to her, for a few years, anyway.”
“I can see that.” I offered a dramatic sigh. “You guys are going to talk about the good old days of college, aren’t you?”
“Not until after we’ve found ways to embarrass our children. You each get a turn. I think I know where your baby pictures are.”
“Great,” I said. “Mom, if you pull out one photo album, I’ll tell Grandma about Mr. Hendricks.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know. Lives down the street. Always walks his dog when you’re out gardening. Stays to chat. That Mr. Hendricks. Grandma will be bugging you about it for months.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“One photo album,” I said, waving a finger. “I don’t care if you think I was the cutest baby to pop out of your womb.”
“You were the only baby to pop out of my womb.”
“Furthermore, no talking about your womb. No mentioning when you were pregnant. In fact, no mentioning anything from after college graduation until my fourteenth birthday.”
She laughed. “You’re cute when you’re trying to make the rules.”
“I mean it, Mom!” I said. “You know how Grandma would get if she thought you were finally going to give me a father. I’ll be your perfect, angelic daughter. I’ll even let the little brat play with us.” I waved my finger again. “But I mean it, Mom.”
“I have an idea, Selena.”
I folded my arms. “This should be good.”
“How about making it a request rather than a demand coupled with a threat? Do you really want an adversarial relationship with me?”
I tried to give her a glare. I’d been practicing in the mirror. I didn’t think I was very good at it. Finally, I dropped my eyes. “No.” Then I looked up. “But seriously, Mom. This isn’t the first time I’ve asked you not to wave my baby pictures around. You always ignore me. Do you blame me for trying something new to get you to please stop?”
“I didn’t know it was this important to you.”
“Then you weren’t listening.”
“All right, Honey,” she said gently. “I will try to be more sensitive of your feelings, but can you blame me?”
“Yes.”
“I’m just so proud of you.”
“You fight dirty,” I muttered.
She pulled me into her arms. I let her, and she held me tightly for a minute before kissing the top of my head. “I need your help, so please don’t dilly-dally on that outline. Oh, and your room could use a little attention. I already changed the bedding, but do you think you could make it presentable.”
“Why? I’m just going to keep the door closed.”
“The slumber party is in the basement,” she replied. “Aurora is using your room, and Calypso gets the guest room.”
“What?”
“I borrowed some camping mattresses, and you have your sleeping bag.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Junk food.”
“What?”
“Pizza. Popcorn. Pop.”
“You’re letting me have pop? You’re bribing me?”
“No, I’m trying to give you girls a nice slumber party. And there might be a new game to show the girls.”
“Really?” I asked. “Death Stalker 2049?”
“What?”
“That’s the newest game. The kids at school were talking about it.”
“I did not buy you a game called Death Stalker.”
“No. Grandma did. This is a sequel.” She stared at me until I began laughing. “I’m going to go do my outline. And I’ll clean up my room.”
“Thank you.” I was halfway to the stairs before she stopped me. “Selena.” I turned. “Do you really have a game called Death Stalker?”
I laughed. “No.”
A mix of emotions crossed her face, finally landing on one I liked: adoring. “I love you, Selena.”
“I love you, too, Mom,” I said.
“I want help prepping dinner. Please don’t dilly-dally.”
“You said. Half hour?” She nodded, and I turned and flounced up the stairs.
* * * *
She was right; my room was kind of a pit. Oh, not a pit-pit, but just kind of a pit. “How did I let it get this bad?” I asked. “I bet pixies have been in here, tossing my clothing around.”
I moved about the room, first tossing loose clothing onto the bed while setting everything else to rights. That didn’t take that long. Then I went through the clothes, hanging some up and tossing some into the hamper. Then I moved the hamper into the back of the closet where it would be out of the way for Aurora.
Aurora. What a name. I’d heard the story a dozen times. Personally, I couldn’t decide whose name was weirder. Mom was Pandora. Who names their kid Pandora? Okay, Grandma Evie. Duh. Still, that was out there, even for Grandma Evie. At college, she met Calypso and Aurora. I thought Aurora was almost a normal name. But Calypso?
Well, the three had bonded over their names, of all things, and were best of friends all through college. I knew Mom missed her friends, all these years later.
I never asked, but I’ve wondered why they didn’t do more to live in the same town. Oh, I knew we lived here so Mom could stay close to Grandma Evie. I suppose Calypso and Aurora both had their own reasons, or maybe they didn’t see Mom quite the same way that she saw them. I didn’t know.
Still, I wished they could be together more often.
I pretended to have forgotten about this weekend, and I pretended to hate the idea, too. But really, I was glad they were coming. It was good for Mom, and the other kids were okay. But would Mom have bribed us with food and a new Xbox game if I’d acted excited? I didn’t know the answer to that.
My outline didn’t take long. I already had it in my head, so it was just a matter of opening my laptop and spending about fifteen minutes on it, tweaking it a little. Outlines were easy. Start with Introduction and Conclusion. In between, insert three to five main points. When it came time to actually write the intro, the main points would define the structure of the introduction, and the paper would practically write itself.
Mom had taught me that, years ago.
I added my sub-points. Those took a little more time. My final point looked a little thin, and I wondered if I should reorder them, but in the end, I decided it flowed at least in part from the first two, so I left the order alone.
Outline: done.
I closed my computer, leaving it on my desk, then eyed my room once more. It looked good, or so I thought. I moved to the doorway and gave it one more look, trying to see it as a 40-year-old woman might. She might not
care for the décor, but I didn’t see anything too embarrassing.
I headed back downstairs.
* * * *
“Grandma Evie!” I said. I ran over, then gave her a hug before kneeling down to be able to look her in the eyes. She was in her wheelchair today, which was hard to see, but I suppose it meant she wouldn’t wear out as quickly. My smile faded for a moment, but she caressed my cheek.
“How’s my favorite granddaughter?”
“You always ask that, as if they’re lined up around the block,” I replied. “I’m fine.”
“Hey, Mom,” Mom said, coming around the island. “What did they do? Push you off the bus?”
“Now, now,” Grandma said. “Jimmy is a good boy, but Ouisie was in one of her moods, and he wanted to get her dropped off, so I told Jimmy just to slow down and give my chair a push.”
I snorted a laugh.
“He had great aim,” Grandma added. “I came to a stop right at the front door.”
“Do you have a bag?”
“It’s inside the front door.”
“Selena,” Mom prompted.
“Your room?”
“Are you going to be able to do the stairs, Mom?”
“Of course, I am,” she said. “I’ll go up on my butt if I have to.”
“Mom,” Mom said, sounding suspiciously like I did from time to time.
“Relax. I’m fine. We had an outing to the arboretum today, and Tenille wouldn’t let me go if I didn’t let her push me around. That woman thinks she’s the boss of me.”
I thought that was true, but at the same time, Grandma Evie looked a little tired, and I don’t think it escaped Mom’s attention that she hadn’t ditched the chair.
“Selena,” Mom prompted.
“Right. On it. Don’t talk about me while I’m gone.”
I hurried to the front room. Grandma had an overnight bag by the door, and her walker, too. I looked at it and sighed. She was too young for this shit, but she’d taken that fall, and it had taken far too much out of her. I hated seeing her like this, though.
I left the walker where it was but grabbed the suitcase. It was heavier than it looked, but I lugged it upstairs then rolled it to Mom’s room. I tossed it on the bed, making sure to muss the well-made bed when doing it. I smiled at the results then headed back down stairs.
“So I told her-” I heard, and then Mom broke off. “Hey, Selena.”