A Little Ray Of Sunshine

by Lani Diane Rich

  We were upstairs, just passing by my room when my mother took a sharp left and went inside.

  “So, do I get the top bunk?” she asked.

  I stood in the doorway, watching as she put one foot warily on the bottom rung of the bunk ladder. “Not unless you’ve got bunk beds in your room.”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “I’m not sleeping in my room tonight. We’re joined at the hip.”

  “I think we’re peaceful enough, Mom. I feel like we’ve made progress, and”––I searched my head for shrinky terms––“we’re on the road to a rediscovery of our relationship... or something.”

  She stepped down off the rung and turned to face me. “Oh, stop shoveling the crap. Getting drunk together doesn’t make us friends.”

  “Well, it’s the closest we’re going to get today.” I walked over to her and grabbed her elbow. “Just... go to your bed tonight and we’ll talk about it in the morning, okay?”

  She allowed me to lead her down to her room, where I deposited her just inside, then padded down the hallway. Briefly, I considered going back down and playing Monopoly, but I was suddenly hit with a powerful exhaustion, and detoured into my room, where I changed into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, brushed my teeth, and hopped into bed. I was almost asleep when my door opened, and there was my mother in her silk pajamas and robe, carrying a tray with two glasses and a pitcher of ice water.

  “The key to hangovers,” she said, holding the tray on one hand as she flicked the light on with the other, “is water. You must drink a quart of water before going to bed. It’s a rule.”

  I pushed myself up to sitting, and she laid the tray at my feet, then poured both glasses, handing me one. She sat down on the bed next to me and downed hers, motioning with her hands for me to do the same. I did. When we’d finished the first glass, she poured us each another.

  “When you’ve screwed up as much as I have,” she said, staring down into her glass, “the past is such an impossible thing to deal with. You look at it, and it’s like this big, tangled mess of yarn you’ll never unravel. The only thing you can do is snip it off and start fresh, because otherwise, you’ll go insane trying to fix things that cannot be fixed.”

  She picked up her glass and downed the rest of her water, then set it on the tray.

  “Okay,” I said. “Well. Thank you for the water.”

  She smiled up at me, and her eyes were red-rimmed, although whether it was wine or emotion was anybody’s guess. She put one cold hand on my cheek, then leaned over and kissed the other.

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

  Then she got up and put one foot on the ladder.

  “Um... Mom?”

  “Don’t argue,” she said, and disappeared onto the top bunk, which groaned slightly even under her minuscule weight. “Joined at the hip, darling. I said it. I meant it.”

  I put my glass down on the tray, then picked the whole shebang up and walked it over to the desk. I turned and looked up at my mother, who was curled up like a little girl with prayer-hands tucked under the side of her head. She looked so tiny and fragile, it was impossible to believe that this was the same woman who had tormented me throughout most of my life.

  Well. Actually, in a lot of ways, it wasn’t.

  “Good night, Mom.” I flicked off the light and ducked into the bottom bunk, pulling the covers up to my chin.

  “Good night, sweetheart,” she said, her voice dreamy, and then the gentle snores of Lilly Lorraine filled the room.

  I prefer plants to children. Plants don’t try to kill you in your sleep if you screw them up.

  —Lilly Lorraine as Betsy Tanker in Betsy Tanker: Runaway Mom, NBC Movie of the Week, aired February 28, 1983

  Nine

  I don’t think I really had a plan in my head for the first time I would see Luke face-to-face again, but I do feel pretty certain I didn’t intend to be hung over. I didn’t intend to have my hair up in a haphazard ponytail that looked like it was glued to the side of my head by a pre-schooler, and I definitely didn’t intend to be wearing a cutoff Go-Go’s concert t-shirt with neon-green capri sweatpants and the words Super Fly embroidered in an arc over each butt cheek.

  But that is, of course, exactly how it turned out.

  It was a little before nine when I woke up that next morning. The top bunk where Mom had slept was neatly made, and I was too tired to be suspicious as to why she hadn’t woken me up when she got up. I was just happy I’d gotten to sleep in, and even happier when I traipsed out to find the entire house vacant. I padded downstairs, poured myself a bowl of Cheerios, and was just sinking into the glorious solitude when there was a knock at the door.

  “Of course,” I muttered, pushing myself away from the breakfast bar. I was just about at the door when it opened, and in walked Luke.

  I froze in the middle of the hallway. I couldn’t run; he’d already seen me. Even if I dove underneath the half-moon hallway table, it was smaller than me, so there was no refuge to be had there. I just stood there, frozen, panicked. And, as karma would have it, it was then I started choking.

  I still don’t know what happened, but my guess is that the shock made my system swap breathing and swallowing functions, and I inhaled a little bit of Cheerio. I started hacking and turning red, mostly from mortification, and Luke rushed to me and started hitting me on the back - a little harder than I would have deemed absolutely necessary - and after a moment I regained my ability to breathe and stepped away from him.

  “I’m okay,” I gasped.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” I cleared my throat and stood up straight, looking at him. It was nine o’clock on a Saturday morning. His hair was neatly combed, instead of the typical disheveled mess that always looked so cute on him. And he was wearing a suit and tie. A suit and tie. On a Sunday. I sputtered again. “I need some water.”

  I turned and headed toward the kitchen, closing my eyes and praying to God that he was too stunned to notice the words on my ass.

  “Ow!” I said, opening my eyes as I stubbed my toe on the kitchen island. I pulled a glass out of the cupboard and stuffed it under the water dispenser in the fridge door.

  “So...,” his voice came from behind me, “you’re here for the wedding, I guess?”

  I glanced behind me and there he was, standing straight, holding a large manila envelope with one hand and striking the edge into the palm of the other. He did not look happy to see me.

  “Yeah,” I croaked, then lifted the glass to my lips and chugged the water down, hoping I’d choke again and, with any luck, maybe die this time. Or at least pass out.

  “Funny,” he said, not looking amused at all. “Digs told me you weren’t coming.”

  I lowered the glass, sputtered, “Changed my mind,” and lifted it again.

  “I see.” He stared at me, continuing to strike the edge of the envelope into his palm, then suddenly seemed to become aware of it and dropped it onto the counter. “Lilly asked me to pick these contracts up from the party planner for her. She told me specifically to be here at nine to drop them off. She’s not here, is she?”

  I sighed and put the glass into the sink. “No. She’s not.” I pulled on a tight smile, realizing now exactly why she hadn’t woken me up. “I guess she hasn’t changed quite as much as she’d have us believe.”

  “People don’t change that much.” He said the words simply, without invective, but when I looked up, his eyes were hard.

  “You have,” I said, motioning toward him, trying to loosen my smile so it wouldn’t look chiseled out of stone, but suspecting I wasn’t having much luck. “I mean, dig you. With the suit and the hair. You’re just all growed up, aren’t you?”

  “Well,” he said, his eyes finally rising to meet mine, “not all of us can be Super Fly.”

  I laughed, then abruptly stopped. “I’m sorry - was that a joke or a tag? Because if you were being mean, then I can come back with something about your Sunday morning casual wear. Tell me you’re not o
ff to Bible study. My poor heart couldn’t take the shock.”

  The smallest trace of a smile graced the edge of his eyes and he shook his head. “It wasn’t a tag.” He self-consciously ran the palm of his left hand over his tie. “And I have a meeting in an hour.”

  “A meeting? On a Sunday? What’s up with that?”

  He suddenly straightened, and whatever trace of a smile he might have had disappeared. We stared at each other for a while, the way you’d stare at an exotic zoo animal you’d studied but never thought you’d see in real life. It was strange and familiar at the same time. My gut instinct kept pushing me to jump into his arms and kiss him with every bit of life I had in me, but a thin layer of reality wrapped around me, telling me I could never do that again. I wanted to laugh, and I wanted to cry, and I wanted to run, and I wanted to grab him and hold on no matter how much he struggled to get away. I felt like I was being drawn and quartered in the town square, and just as I was about to crack down the middle, he spoke again.

  “Look,” he said, dropping his eyes, “if you could just make sure your mom gets these, I’d appreciate it. I’m running late.”

  He turned and headed toward the hallway, and the thin layer of reality broke, allowing me to feel the full weight of my desperation. I chased after him, grabbing his arm.

  “Luke...”

  He turned to look at me, and I felt the muscles of his arm stiffen under my hand, so I let go.

  “Wait,” I said. “Please.”

  He turned to face me, his expression so tight, I hardly recognized him. “What do you want?”

  “Look.” I swallowed hard and forced myself to meet his eyes. “I know there’s a lot of crap under the bridge for us right now, but I think maybe if we could talk—”

  He shook his head. “It’s been six years, Eejie. If there was ever anything to talk about, the moment has passed.”

  “What do you mean, ‘If there was ever anything to talk about’? We can hardly look at each other. That’s something to talk about.”

  He raised his eyes to mine, and I was shocked by how humorless they seemed. I had to believe Luke was in there somewhere, though, because the alternative was unthinkable.

  “I can look at you,” he said. “I’m looking. Can I go now?”

  “No,” I said, my voice thick with petulance. “You’re all weird and mad.”

  His jaw clenched. “I’m not mad.”

  “Not just mad. Weird and mad. You’re just so... different.”

  “Six years will do that to a person.”

  “See?” I snapped my fingers. “Right there. You’ve got the tone. The mad tone. I’ve known you since we were five years old, Luke. I know the tone.”

  “Damn it, there’s...” He let out an exasperated huff. “There’s no tone, Eejie. Are you gonna give these to your mom or not? Because I can just stuff them in the mailbox on my way out if that’s going to be a problem for you.”

  “Admit that you’re mad and I’ll be happy to pass them on.”

  He released a breath. “I wasn’t mad. I’m getting mad. Would you just let it go?”

  “I can’t.” I lifted one hand to touch his arm, then thought better of it and let it drop. “About the night I left—”

  He chuckled mirthlessly and shook his head, looking down at his shoes. “Like a damn dog with a bone.”

  “With anyone else, trust me, I’d have the common decency to drop it and pretend nothing was wrong, but...” I sighed as I stared up at him. My Luke, all abducted by the pod people. It just wasn’t right. “Luke, this is us. I can’t stand being like this with you.”

  His cheeks flushed and his head shot up. “Then maybe you should have bothered to say good-bye. Taken the time to scribble a note. Dash off an e-mail. It’s a coward’s way out, Eejie, to just take off in the middle of the night. It’s bullshit. It’s—”

  He stopped, and we stared at each other in silence—his angry, mine stunned—and then the front door opened and the happy, laughing voices of my mother, Danny and Jess echoed down to reach us.

  “I’m not doing this,” Luke muttered, then stalked out of the kitchen. I stared at the floor, my heart pounding in my chest, and listened as Luke had a brief exchange with my mom, was introduced to Jess, and escaped. The door shut behind him and the only sounds were careful footsteps plodding into the kitchen. When I looked up, Mom was smiling and holding out a styrofoam container.

  “We went to iHop,” she said. “I brought you back a Rooty Tooty Fresh ’n Fruity.”

  I stared at her, my despair at the disaster with Luke transitioning smoothly into anger at her. “Thought we were supposed to be joined at the hip.”

  “You were asleep,” she said, putting the container on the counter. Behind her, Danny and Jess watched quietly.

  “You set me up!” I said. “I’m wearing my Super Fly sweats, and you set me up to see Luke again! What the hell were you thinking?”

  “I didn’t know you’d be wearing your Super Fly sweats,” she said, exasperation thick in her voice. “I bought you those lovely pajamas yesterday! You could have worn those!”

  “Lilly?” Danny asked, a warning tone in his voice. “What did you do?”

  She huffed and slapped one hand down on the counter, looking to Danny. “I did what needed to be done, Danny.” She turned back to me. “You couldn’t keep ducking out forever. He’s going to be my stepson, and you are my daughter, and we’re going to be a family. There are going to be Christmases and birthdays and anniversaries and funerals and the two of you need to learn to be around each other. Now, the first meeting is over. That’s the hardest part.”

  “No, the hardest part will be spending the rest of my life in jail for killing my mother.”

  Jess stepped forward and put her hand on my arm. “EJ. Don’t say things you can’t take back.”

  Mom sighed. “I’m sorry if it was uncomfortable for you, Emmy. I was just trying to help.”

  I closed my eyes and put my fingers to my temples. In her head, of course, she was being helpful. She was Lilly Lorraine. There was nothing in the world that wasn’t her business, no situation who couldn’t benefit from her interference. And, to tell the truth, I was a little comforted to see the leopard’s spots again. The devil you know, and all that. I took a deep, cleansing breath and opened my eyes.

  “I need to do some laundry.” I looked at Danny. “Do you mind if I use your laundry room?”

  Danny smiled. “Sure, honey. You go ahead.”

  “But your Rooty Tooty—” Mom began, then cut off when I turned on her.

  “I’m leaving the room without telling you what you can do with your Rooty Tooty Fresh ’n Fruity. I want everyone to witness that I am withholding my vile commentary on the Rooty Tooty Fresh ’n Fruity. I want points for that. Can I have some points?”

  “Points awarded, EJ,” Danny said. “Go get your laundry. Your mom and I are going for a walk.”

  “But—” Mom appealed to Danny. “I want points for getting her a breakfast loaded with fat and sugar. Shouldn’t I get some points, too?”

  Danny opened his mouth, but I held up my hand.

  “Wait a minute.” I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at Danny. “Hold off on those points. Did she eat anything at breakfast?”

  Danny and Jess exchanged looks, then Jess laid guilty eyes on my mother, who stomped her foot like a teenager.

  “I did too eat! I ordered that vegetable omelet!”

  “She did,” Jess said, her voice straining to be helpful. “She ordered it.”

  “I’m sure she did. How many bites did you have, Mom?”

  “I never eat much at breakfast. But—oh!” She bounced on her toes and pointed a victorious index finger at me. “I put real sugar in my coffee! And cream!”

  Danny put his hands on Mom’s shoulders. “Let’s go for that walk, sweetheart, what do you say? Let things cool down a bit.”

  “No!” She wrenched out of his grip. “I want my points!”

  “Fine.�
�� I walked over to the counter, flipped the top of the styrofoam container up and grabbed a fork from the silverware drawer. “You want points?” I handed her the fork. “Take a bite.”

  Her eyes widened. “That breakfast was for you.”

  “If it’s for me, then I get to decide who eats it.” I motioned toward it. “You want points? Dig in.”

  She grasped the fork in her fist like a weapon. “Okay. I’ll take a bite. But if I eat, you eat. No points for you unless you have some of the breakfast I brought for you.”

  “I already got my points,” I said.

  “Danny! Take away her points!”

  Jess put her hand on my shoulder and whispered, “EJ...”

  I rolled my eyes, grabbed a fork from the drawer, and held it in suspension over the container. “You first.”

  Mom took a deep breath, cut into the pancakes with the side of her fork and impaled a bite.

  “Dip it in the fruity goo,” I said. “And get a little whipped cream on there while you’re at it.”

  She eyed me as she did it, then lifted the bite into her mouth and chewed, raising an expectant eyebrow at me.

  “I’m not going until I see you swallow,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes, chewed faster, swallowed dramatically, and opened her mouth for inspection.

  “Acceptable.” I dug in, withdrew a bite, popped it in my mouth and tossed the fork in the sink. “Are we done here?”

  “Oh, Emmy, don’t talk with your mouth full...,” Mom whined. “I raised you better than that, didn’t I? Didn’t I at least do that?”

  Danny visibly fought his smile as he put his arm around Mom’s shoulders and led her out the sliding glass doors. As soon as she was gone, I turned to Jess, who was watching me with her own look of amusement.

  “What?”

  “You and your mother are so much alike, it’s kinda scary.”

  “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that, since you’re all divine and everything,” I said, picking up the container and dumping it in the trash. “But if you say it again, you and me are gonna throw down.”

  I don’t think what happened that afternoon technically qualifies as stalking. I mean, for that, you have to present some kind of threat, and just be generally creepy. I think I avoided both of these things, but really, you’d have to ask Luke.