Counting by 7s

by Holly Goldberg Sloan

  If the last few months have proven anything, it’s that I don’t need more theory, but rather more experience with reality.

  Even though the dose I’ve received is enough to last a lifetime.

  When I see the judge I will try to convey a positive attitude, while at the same time monitoring my blood pressure and other vital signs.

  There have been cases of stress-induced cardiomyopathy, which also is known as broken heart syndrome.

  Chapter 59

  Dell was getting ready.

  He picked out a red tie. And put on his suit. It had been the first time he’d told his boss a version of the truth about why he wouldn’t be at work.

  He was going to juvenile court to be there for one of the kids that he counseled.

  Instead of feeling like a lazy slacker, he had thought he could hear admiration in the voice of his supervisor.

  Or maybe the guy was just yawning.

  Now, as he pulled up the pants on his suit, he was surprised that he was able to button the waistband.

  The last time he found himself in this situation he’d used a safety pin to keep the pants closed.

  This was solid evidence that he’d been losing weight. Not enough that he could get out of his car when it was pinned up against a van, but still, it felt good to see his stomach receding.

  Down the hall in #28, Pattie debated what to wear and settled on a white silk shirt with two embroidered doves. It came from Vietnam.

  She already had on a black skirt from a discount store.

  And red slippers.

  The doves were a symbol of love.

  The black skirt was a show of respect.

  And the red slippers were of course lucky.

  Probably no one in authority would pick up on the symbolism, but if they did, Pattie wanted to give the right impression of her intent.

  Across town, Mai sat in her high school history class and stared out the window.

  It wasn’t fair.

  She of all people should be there.

  She’d started this.

  The clock on the far wall behind the teacher’s head hadn’t moved in what seemed like forever.

  The woman was going on and on about ancient Rome when it became clear to Mai that the only thing that mattered was in a courthouse in downtown Bakersfield.

  By the time the bell rang, she knew one thing with absolute certainty.

  Mai explained to the woman in the office that there was a family emergency.

  And then she used a trick. She started speaking in Vietnamese. Rapid fire.

  That unnerved people.

  The next thing she knew, she had a permission slip to get Quang-ha out of biology (where he was actually paying attention to a short film on mitosis).

  And only minutes later the two Nguyens were walking out the front doors on their way downtown.

  Mai looked back at the school and saw a decal in a classroom window.

  It was of a sunflower. Bathed in the hard light, it glowed as if it were made of gold.

  Mai took that to be a good sign.

  Chapter 60

  Family court has its own area on the second floor of City Hall.

  I could ask a million questions about what will happen next, but I’ve decided that I’m going to go where the wind takes me.

  And it’s gusting outside, so if that’s any indicator, maybe I’ll be blown far.

  Lenore knows her way around this place and a lot of people say hello. She keeps her hand on my shoulder, which is a nice touch.

  She says that she will be there for me.

  I’m taken into a waiting area.

  They don’t have kids sit in the main room, and that makes sense.

  I see a little boy come in and he’s crying. He’s small. He looks like he’s only six or 7 years old.

  A man picks him up and whispers in the boy’s ear, but he keeps crying.

  I’m glad I can’t hear what is being said.

  I think that waiting is the hardest part.

  I’m okay with it, though, because it’s not like I’m rushing to get somewhere.

  Lenore leaves the room and I realize now that I could run away.

  I could just walk out the door and keep going.

  But I don’t do that. And not just because I’m tired.

  I have given in.

  But that’s different from giving up.

  After a long time, a woman appears and says that it’s my turn to see the judge.

  I don’t know what happened to Lenore, and I feel like I should wait for her.

  But the woman says that Lenore’s dealing with something unexpected.

  I just shrug.

  I think that everything Lenore deals with is unexpected.

  I follow the new woman in charge down the hall, and we turn and enter what is the judge’s chamber.

  I guess saying judge’s office doesn’t sound as powerful.

  And that’s when I see them.

  They are standing.

  Dell has on a suit, which is pretty tight.

  Next to him on one side is Quang-ha.

  On the other is Pattie.

  At Pattie’s elbow is Jairo. He also wears a suit, so I almost don’t recognize him.

  And in front, holding a big bunch of tulips, is Mai.

  They are all smiling.

  I don’t say anything. And I don’t move. I am completely still.

  I know how to do that.

  At the desk, a woman gets to her feet. She is wearing what I guess is a judge’s robe, but it looks like a choir outfit. I don’t even blink as she says:

  “Willow, I’m Judge Biederman. And I think that you know these people.”

  I’m not sure what to do.

  I realize that tears are flooding my eyes, but I’m not crying. I’m just drippy.

  I don’t know what any of this means.

  The judge continues:

  “There has been a formal request made today to the court for your guardianship. In a motion filed by Mr. Jairo Hernandez and Ms. Dung Nguyen—”

  Pattie interrupts the judge:

  “It’s Pattie.”

  Judge Biederman continues, but I don’t think people break in on her very often, because her nose wrinkles up.

  “Mr. Hernandez and Ms. Pattie Nguyen are seeking this custody agreement as partners . . .”

  I don’t hear anything after that.

  I don’t need to.

  I know that Lenore comes into the room.

  And at some point she has her arm around me. I sink into a chair and I bury my face into my red hat and I’m not sure if I’m laughing or crying.

  I hear Mai’s voice.

  “It’s going to be all right now. Don’t cry, Willow.”

  I answer in Vietnamese:

  Which means:

  “It’s more than all right.”

  Pattie and Jairo aren’t getting married or anything like that.

  But they are in some kind of a relationship, which looks to me like more than just friends.

  We find out that Pattie hasn’t been working late all the time.

  She and Jairo have been going to dinner and even to a few movies, and once to a poetry reading at Bakersfield College.

  We all have the same look on our faces when we hear this piece of news.

  Quang-ha (of course) is the one who says:

  “Poetry reading? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Dell wanted to go for guardianship too, but he’s pretty much broke—even though I recently put his accounts on autopay to help straighten out some of his finances—so he doesn’t qualify.

  Jairo has some cash in his account (from his prize), but the real discovery is that Pattie is some kind of hoarder.

 
While Dell spent years piling up plastic plates, Pattie was stacking money.

  She hid this from everyone, but now that the court needs to review all of her financial documents, she has to admit that she’s got, as Quang-ha says, “crazy mad money.”

  I’m not supposed to see any of this, but Pattie and Jairo didn’t follow any of the correct procedures and that means that Lenore has to bring out the paperwork while I’m in the room.

  Judge Biederman says that she is going to overlook all of the red tape for now.

  I can see that Pattie likes the idea of red tape.

  Obviously because of her attachment to the color.

  I can’t remember ever in my life seeing red tape. There is black and of course brown tape for packing. And silver.

  I make a note to investigate this reference later.

  Lenore signs off on her part in the approval process, but she says that Pattie and Jairo need to come back and do things the right way.

  But the important thing is that for today, they are granted, jointly, the guardianship, which is on track to not be temporary, of a person named Willow Chance.

  That’s now legal.

  Once this is said by the judge, in an official way, Dell makes a show by dropping to the floor like he’s doing a split.

  It’s supposed to be some kind of victory move.

  But he rips his pants in the crotch, which isn’t just super-embarrassing for him but makes Quang-ha start to laugh.

  It’s his high-pitched giggle.

  And once that happens, the contagious thing gets going.

  And I’m part of that now.

  I can see from the look on the judge’s scrunched face that it’s time for us to be moving on.

  We are outside when Mai gives me a big hug.

  Then Quang-ha slings his arm around my shoulder and I know he’s going to say something important.

  He lowers his voice, and I hear:

  “I have a paper due in English class on Wednesday. Moby-Dick. Hope you have time to read it.”

  We then walk across the plaza and get into Jairo’s taxi. We sit three in the front and three in the back.

  It doesn’t look safe, but there are seat belts for all of the passengers.

  We decide to drive to Luigi’s restaurant (since this is a favorite of Dell’s and he’s got the most enthusiasm about eating).

  I get sacco beans, which are pinto beans marinated in oil and vinegar and crushed red pepper.

  Everyone else orders spicy pickled tongue sandwiches.

  I don’t eat meat. And organ meat is in a whole other category of stuff I wouldn’t want to chew.

  But I do nothing but smile when they all offer me a bite.

  Chapter 61

  We are in the taxi, driving back, when Pattie reveals something big.

  She wants to buy the building.

  The Gardens of Glenwood.

  We all think that she’s kidding, but apparently she has already spoken to someone at the bank and she’s put in a formal offer.

  I don’t know what to make of it, but Dell looks thrilled.

  I’m thinking that he’s thinking that he won’t get evicted if she owns the place.

  But I doubt he’d still be the building rep.

  Quang-ha is the most energized by this news. I guess he still worries about going back to the garage behind the salon.

  He says that if his mom owns the place, we should make a skateboard ramp in the front entrance where the stairs are.

  I didn’t know he was a skateboarder.

  Interesting.

  Pattie says that nothing is for certain.

  That is the truest statement I’ve ever heard.

  In the late afternoon, after everything has settled down, I put away my garden clothes and I run the mile loop.

  I then take a seat next to the timber bamboo in the courtyard.

  I know that I will think about this day many times.

  Then I realize that it is the 7th of the month. And I’m not surprised.

  7 is a natural number.

  And it is a prime number.

  There are 7 basic types of catastrophes.

  And 7 days of the week.

  Isaac Newton identified the 7 colors of the rainbow as:

  Violet

  Indigo

  Blue

  Green

  Yellow

  Orange

  Red

  Dell put people in 7 categories:

  Misfit

  Oddball

  Lone Wolf

  Weirdo

  Genius

  Dictator

  Mutant

  I have my own system of order.

  I think that at every stage of living, there are 7 people who matter in your world.

  They are people who are inside you.

  They are people you rely on.

  They are people who daily change your life.

  For me I count:

  My mom (always)

  and my dad (forever)

  Mai

  Dell

  Quang-ha

  Pattie

  Jairo

  I decide that when my head begins to pound from now on, I will shut my eyes and count to 7, instead of by 7s.

  I see each one of these people like the colors of the rainbow.

  They are vivid and distinct.

  And they hold a permanent place in my heart.

  If the builder had had more money, this area would have probably been a swimming pool.

  But it’s not.

  It’s a garden.

  I shift my position and suddenly I feel something in my pocket.

  It’s my lucky acorn.

  I get up and pick a spot off to the side where I know there might be space for something of size to grow. I punch my finger into the dirt to make a small hole, and I drop in the brown nut.

  I return to the stairs, and as I sit here in a slice of winter sunlight, two small birds find their way down to the honeysuckle planted next to the bamboo.

  They speak to me, not in words, but in action.

  They tell me that life goes on.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank Jennifer Bailey Hunt and Lauri Hornik, who were my editors. They made this book. I tried to quit on multiple occasions. They wouldn’t let me. I express my complete gratitude to both of you.

  I had two agents in writing this book. Ken Wright and Amy Berkower. Everyone in the world should have the kind of support these two people give to writers.

  I had many great teachers, but 7 who absolutely changed my life. Sharon Wetterling (Condon Elementary School, Eugene, Oregon), Harriet Wilson (South Eugene High School), Arnie Laferty (Roosevelt Middle School, Eugene, Oregon) Ray Scofield (Roosevelt Middle School), Wayne Thompson (Roosevelt Middle School), Dorothy Iz (Robert College in Istanbul, Turkey), and Addie Holsing (Willard Middle School, Berkeley, California). Thank you for giving so much of yourself to kids.

  I have many writers who are my friends. More than 7. The writing pals (besides my husband) who personally inspire me daily are Evgenia Citkowitz. Maria Semple. Aaron Hartzler. Lucy Gray. Mart Crowley. Gayle Forman. Charlie Hauck. Henry Murray. Allan Burns. Nadine Schiff. Elaine Pope. Henry Louis Gates. Diane English. Nancy Meyers. Bill Rosen. Stephen Godchaux. Ry Cooder. David Thomson. Amy Holden Jones. And John Corey Whaley.

  My mother, Robin Montgomery, is there for me in everything I attempt to do. And I thank her for all of her insight, wisdom, and humor. I was fortunate to have 7 other moms growing up, and so to my mother thank-you list I add Bertie Weiss, Ann Kleinsasser, Risha Meledandri, Jane Moshofsky, Donna Addison, Mary Rozaire, and Connie Herlihy.

  I need to thank Thu Le and Minh Nguyen for helping me with the
Vietnamese language.

  And finally the 7 people who are present every day in so many ways. Farley Ziegler. Tim Goldberg. Randy Goldberg. Anne Herlihy. Max Sloan. Calvin Sloan.

  And Gary Rosen.

  Love you (7 letters).