One of the most important things to consider when taking on a new design project is the emotion of the space, the feeling that the family wants a room to convey. Most of the time, I like to bathe a room in neutrals and textures so that it can adapt to whatever mood a person is actually feeling. It is okay, after all, to not feel new-puppy pleased all the time.
While decorating Jodi and Ricky’s trailer, I most definitely veered from that course. I filled it with pieces I hadn’t been able to move from the store and focused on yellow as the main component of the color palette. Ricky was such a loose cannon that I always thought if he could walk in the door and immediately feel happy it would be best. Too bad it didn’t work. The truth of the matter is that, sometimes, no matter how many times you kiss that damn frog, he’s never going to turn into Prince Charming.
We had done everything we could to protect Jodi from Ricky: scared the daylights out of him, had him sign his rights away to you, and gotten a restraining order. The private investigator who tracked him down promised that he was skeezing around Mexico, but I still got the feeling that every time Jodi had to go back to that trailer, she felt a bit like a dog with an abusive master, fearing his return.
Somewhere in the first month after Grace was born, when Jodi was staying the nights with us, I stopped worrying about the dynamic between you two. It seemed normal and easy, like she was a fun and well-meaning aunt. I could sense her relief that she hadn’t been a mother so young. I wished that we could have helped her more, but she didn’t need me mothering her, I reminded myself about ten thousand times a day.
Recovering from a C-section on no sleep had been particularly difficult for me, and I wasn’t ready to leave the house for a couple of weeks after Grace was born. One morning, though, I had had enough. Graham was at work, I was alone with three kids, and I thought I would rip my fingernails off one by one if I had to look at those same four walls any longer—even if they were papered in a handprinted Scalamandre.
It was just the grocery store, but anywhere I could walk outside, get in my car, and drive away was okay by me. Jodi asked sweetly, “Khaki, you sure the doctor said it’d be all right to drive?” I shot her a look, and Charlie chimed in, “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.” Stacey didn’t say anything because she was the least assertive of the group. But I could tell she didn’t approve.
“Ladies,” I said. “I am a thirty-two-year-old woman. I feel perfectly fine. If I can take care of three children, I can certainly drive a car.”
That was sort of an overstatement since I had had Jodi, Charlie, and Stacey there to help the entire time, not to mention daily visits from Momma, Daddy, and Pauline. But still, even when there’s help everywhere you look, kids want their momma.
I was through the produce aisle, perusing the rows of Oreos and chocolate chip cookies that weren’t proper fare for girls on a postbaby weight loss plan, when I noticed a woman who looked familiar out of the corner of my eye.
When I got close enough to see her jaw smacking open and shut like a screen door in the breeze, I recognized that it was Jodi’s friend Marlene.
“Hey there, Khaki,” she called.
I waved back, hoping to avoid a conversation. When she stopped her cart beside mine I knew I was out of luck.
“Sure is nice of y’all to take Jodi in like that,” Marlene said, and I marveled at her ability to smack her gum and talk at the same time.
I laughed. “We didn’t take her in. She has been helping me with the babies. I couldn’t have survived without her.”
Marlene crinkled her forehead. “Oh. But you know she’s scared outta her mind to go back to that Ricky-infested trailer.”
I was reading the ingredients on the back of a box of crackers when I began to feel sad. The thing about feeling sad when you’re a hormonal train wreck is that you absolutely can’t hold it together. So, there I was, a leaky watering can in the cracker aisle, and Marlene, whom I had met one time, was holding and comforting me as I sobbed.
“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” she said. “I wish somebody’d took care of me like you’re taking care of Jodi. You done everything for that girl.”
Then I started crying all over again for all the children in the world who were mistreated and uncared for. “It’s just not fair,” I said.
I spotted Pauline out of the corner of my eye and tried to get myself back together. “That my baby over there?” she called, pushing her cart toward me, a woman on a mission.
I nodded. “I’m fine, I’m fine.”
Pauline pushed Marlene out of the way and held me to her ample chest like she had when I was little and someone had hurt my feelings at school. “You tell me what’s wrong right now, baby.”
I realized I was still holding a box of crackers, and, wiping my eyes with my free hand, I said, venturing a smile, “So many of these crackers have hydrogenated vegetable oils and genetically modified ingredients, and without even knowing, people feed them to their children.”
Pauline howled with laughter, and Marlene and I joined her.
In the car on the way home, I allowed myself to think the things that I pushed away hardest. I faced my biggest fear, that Jodi would want to take you back. And I finally let that little voice in my head say, Carolina is going to love Jodi more than you.
I realized how selfish it was to deny a girl I loved the safety she craved because I was insecure.
Then I called Graham. “What do you think about Jodi being our nanny?”
“I think I thought of the idea a long time ago.”
I winced as I turned my body to check my blind spot before switching lanes. “I mean, how do you feel about it in terms of Carolina and the adoption and all of that?”
Graham sighed. “I know that the therapist and the social worker and the books and our friends make like this is supposed to be this ridiculously complex blending of families. But we were already family before, you know?”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “The kids love her so much.”
“Right,” Graham agreed. “And Carolina is at that stage where she cries for everyone. I’d rather her be happy with Jodi than miserable with a stranger.” Graham sighed. “And, beyond all that, Khaki, we forget that the girl is twenty. I mean, what were you doing when you were twenty?”
He knew what I was doing at twenty because it pretty much revolved around him. I was staying out too late, going to parties, talking all night with my sorority sisters, sneaking into his fraternity house every now and then. I was going to classes to pass the time, having no idea what I was going to do with my life. And Daddy sent those checks every month like clockwork. I didn’t know anything different than having people taking care of me everywhere I looked. I thought I was being this independent woman, but in reality, I had no real responsibility for anything besides my grades, something that had always come easily to me. Above all, I was in my little bubble, safe from harm, and felt totally invincible.
And then there was Jodi, working her tail off every day, trying to pay for her own house, her own car, her own insurance, already having been through one of the most horrible things I could imagine. And she didn’t have anyone that she could count on. Anyone besides us, that is. I could feel the tears gathering in my eyes again, so torn between my fear and that deeply ingrained knowledge that you take care of your family first and always. Even when you’re scared or hurt or angry, family always comes first.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and said, “Okay. So maybe we could try it short term?”
“Sure,” Graham said. “I mean, think of all the people in family adoptions where the mother and the baby are under the same roof the whole time. If it doesn’t work out or any of us feels uncomfortable, then we’ll go back to the weekly visits.”
“Graham.” I paused.
“Yeah.”
“Do you think . . .”
“She’s not g
oing to take her back, Khak. She’s not.”
When I walked through the front door, you were napping, and Jodi was rocking Grace while Alex colored on the floor. I sighed deeply like I hadn’t exhaled in a month and said, “Jodi, I hate to ask you for anything as much as you’ve done for us, but I’ve thought and thought, and I can’t come to any other logical conclusion.”
Concern passed her face, and she said, “You can ask me dern near anything.”
I shook my head and sat down on the couch across from the rocker. “I know you need your independence, and I want that for you more than anything.” I looked hyperbolically nervous. “But I was wondering if you could possibly stay at our house for a while—I mean, all the time, not just a night here and there.”
Jodi looked like she had just gotten a full scholarship and her book was being bid on at auction. She bit her lip. “You done so much for me, Khaki. I’d help you with near about anything.”
“I’ve talked to Graham about it too. Let’s all stay open and talk about the situation with Carolina. If anyone feels uncomfortable, we can always take a step back.”
Jodi nodded. “I’d feel right good ’bout all of them being taken care of by family. Better than some stranger off the street.”
I nodded. “Obviously, we’ll pay you a salary, and you’ll stay here and eat with us whenever you want.”
So that settled it. Just like that, with two minutes of discussion, Graham and I had yet another child to feed, clothe, and house. I told him that since we had always wanted four kids, I was trying to get a jump on that as quickly as possible. He said at least this one was potty trained.
Jodi
HAVING IT ALL
When you got crops growin’ you cain’t very well leave ’em. So I ain’t the kinda person that goes on vacation. I can count all the vacations I ever took on one hand. Grandma and Pop, they rented a house at the beach and took all the cousins one summer when I was nine. We was all of us crammed under one roof, slurpin’ down orange sodas and getting sunburned. It was so much fun they promised to take us every year. But wouldn’t you know Pop died that very next year, and, without him, Grandma didn’t have no money for extras like vacation.
But Daddy, he took me to the beach when I was thirteen ’cause he was doin’ some car work for the folks that owned the Oceanana. That playground equipment had been all I could think about. But I were too big to try them swings, too ashamed to let myself feel that freedom. Me and Daddy, we was like royalty staying in a hotel room that had its own sittin’ room and kitchenette.
Daddy, he cooked fish that his friend caught. I didn’t like it none, but I ate dern near every bite so he’d know how grateful I was. We got to walkin’ on the beach, feeling free ’cause we was away from Momma, an orange-sherbet sunset sinking into cotton-candy clouds.
My friend Marlene’s parents musta felt real sorry for me when Daddy was dying ’cause they rented a place in the mountains and took me along when I was sixteen. When me and Buddy went to the beach and I got to go to New York, those were the last two.
I knew pretty damn near nothing about the world. But I was feeling right cocky ’bout knowing my way around a airplane. When we went to New York, we drove to Raleigh, went right through them security guards, got some snacks, and waited in some chairs while I got to looking around for that “gate” that now I know don’t exist. We got on the plane, flew with a whole buncha people, got off, and a man with a sign met us to get in the car.
I was goin’ through all that in my head again so I wasn’t embarrassed goin’ off to Palm Beach for Mrs. Mason’s book party. But I got all throwed right off the bat when we drove to the little airport not ten minutes from the house and waited around outside a tiny little plane.
“Why didn’t we go through security?” I whispered to Graham.
“Khaki’s parents chartered a jet for this trip.”
I got to searching my brain for the word chartered. Only thing I knew about chartering was somethin’ with making a new state. “What’s ‘chartered’ mean?”
Graham smiled. “Rented.”
I mean, I don’t know near nothing ’bout traveling, like I said, but any fool could see this was a darn sight better than waitin’ around in that musty airport. And it was real nice to just be with people you liked. The inside reminded me of Khaki’s Mercedes, all leather and wood trim everywhere.
’Course I thanked Mr. and Mrs. Mason about a million times for inviting me and said hey to Khaki’s sister Virginia, Charlie, and Greg. I weren’t trying to, but I overheard Mrs. Mason say to Virginia, “I don’t know why on earth she can’t be sensible and leave those children at home like you did.”
Khaki don’t never leave her children.
I heard a man on the news saying that winning the Mega Millions lottery was the best feelin’ in the whole world, but that ain’t right. Having somebody love you so much they cain’t even leave you for vacation is the best feelin’. And I got all warm inside just knowin’ that you was gonna get to feel like that.
A whole flock a’ fancy black cars was waiting when that plane landed with a real smooth little bump. At first, I thought we was in trouble or something, all them black car noses pointing at us. I heard Khaki whisper, “Seriously, Momma, Bentleys? Don’t you think that’s a hair excessive?”
Khaki’s momma, she got kinda snippy about it. “This might be the only book launch I ever have, and I will celebrate as I see fit.”
Mr. Mason, he was all happy and calm and smilin’. He just said, “Girls, please don’t argue. This is a special time for the whole family to be together.”
Virginia took Khaki’s hand, and they got to laughing right hard ’bout something must’ve been a sister joke as they slid in the backseat.
Like I said, the only hotel I’d ever stayed at was the Oceanana. So “hotel” to me meant a small, concrete building with doors on the outside. I had already got to picturing hunter green floral bedspreads and cups with plastic wrap over them. Not a damn thing in this world, not even them Town & Country magazines, coulda prepared me for drivin’ up that brick driveway, eyes jumping ’round between rows and rows a’ perfect palm trees, the ivy-covered walls and shiny building taking my breath away. This looked like somewhere kings and presidents and princesses stay, not country girls like me. And everybody else, they was just a-chattering away like it weren’t nothing.
With my bag slung over one arm and you on my hip, I like to have tiptoed into the lobby of that giant hotel. Every place I’d ever lived combined weren’t near as big as the front hall. Two men in uniforms said, “I’ll get that, ma’am.” They took my bag, and I wasn’t even worried they were stealing it. Ain’t nobody ever called me ma’am before.
“Some place, isn’t it?” Khaki said.
That’s when I realized my mouth was hanging open. The ceilings was painted with pictures and all them arches everywhere and glass chandeliers bigger than me. “It looks like the pictures of the Sistine Chapel in my old history textbook.”
Khaki nodded. “It’s beautiful, for sure.”
I couldn’t near imagine how much it must’ve cost for all a’ us to stay in a place like this. But I woulda bet that first sweet corn a’ the season I didn’t make it in a year. People, they was always talking ’bout Mrs. Mason getting all that insurance money when her family got killed in that car wreck. But I hadn’t had a damn clue what that money could buy.
“Let’s get cleaned up and meet out by the pool for lunch in thirty minutes,” Mrs. Mason said.
I followed Khaki outta the elevator, near bumping into her. She led me into a bedroom all blue and white and clean and crisp and the ocean and sun just shining in everywhere you could look.
“I hope you don’t mind sharing a room with Alex,” she said. “Carolina and Grace are going to sleep with us.” She pointed to a door and said, “Our rooms are adjoining, so we’ll prop them open, and we can all go i
n and out.”
I peeked my head into a marble bath like my heart couldn’t take nothing else so amazing. I knew I hadn’t said one dern word since we got there.
Mrs. Mason swished on through and said, “Is everything to everyone’s liking?”
I just hugged her real hard.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
Mrs. Mason, she was ’bout as warm and fuzzy as a porcupine, but I didn’t blame her none. Losing all them people she loved when she weren’t more than a grade-school girl, that’s bound to make you hard inside. She said, “Hurry up, now. Get your suits on. I’m sure everyone is hungry.”
“Jodi, Jodi,” Alex called, all excited. “Which bathing suit should I wear?”
Khaki, she answered him all sugarplum sweet, “Do you want to see which one Daddy is wearing and you can match?”
“Yeah!” he yelled, jumping onto the bed.
Khaki shook her head and whispered to me, “I want so badly to turn that bed down so he’s not on a germy comforter, but I don’t want my children to inherit my phobias.”
Germs don’t know how to even get in places this beautiful. Khaki squeezed Alex’s hand and took him through to the other room, saying, “Let’s let Jodi get ready, please.”
I sat down on the edge of my bed real soft. I was so scared I was gonna wake up and this weren’t gonna be real, not any of it. Girls like me, we didn’t get to come to places like this. Girls like me didn’t go on millionaire vacations and ride in private jets and Bentleys. I was gonna make it last long and sweet like one a’ Grandma’s butterscotch. The Walmart bathing suit and dirty flip-flops in my ten-year-old duffel bag looked a darn sight more like the trailer park’s Fourth of July barbecue than Palm Beach. But that weren’t none a’ my concern. You could tell straight off, all them people down by the pool, they was all worried ’bout how they looked, not me.
Dear Carolina Page 22