How to Find What You're Not Looking For

by Veera Hiranandani

  “It just seems so unfair,” you say. “How can Peggy and Jane afford to live here? Are they richer than us?”

  “Darling, the earlier you understand that life is unfair, the better,” Ma says. “And Peggy and Jane’s financial situation is none of our business.”

  You roll your eyes. Life is unfair. Don’t talk about money. You’ve heard Ma say that a million times. You wait for her to comment on your eye roll, but instead she puts her hand on her head. “Oooh,” she says and leans over a little bit. Daddy asks her if she’s okay. She waves him off, says she hasn’t been sleeping well and needs to rest. She leaves, and you go to your bedroom, too. You’ve had enough of everything, even Ma’s migraines. A part of you feels angry that she gets them.

  The light in your room is off, but you don’t even bother turning it on. You lie on Leah’s bed in the dark, thinking about the plan, because you’re not going to be able to let Leah go. You and Jane will go to New York University and look for your sister. You’re not sure when. You and Jane still have to figure that part out.

  NYU, that’s what it was called when you looked it up in the phone book. You and Jane looked up both Leah and Raj in the phone book, too, just in case, but they aren’t listed. You hope you won’t need to go to NYU, though, that somehow you’ll hear a knock on the door just in time, and Leah will be standing behind it, holding her dance bag on her shoulder, like the day she left. You fall asleep with that image in your mind.

  In what feels like a minute, Daddy is standing over you, shaking your shoulder. “Ariel,” he says, and you think you’re dreaming. You can’t remember the last time Daddy was in your room. But then you realize you’re not dreaming and sit up quickly. “What time is it?”

  “It’s okay. It’s very late,” he says, whispering. “Ma needs to go to the hospital.”

  You want him to explain, but then you look at him. He has a sweater on, and you see his pajama shirt sticking out of it on top of an old pair of dungarees. He looks shaken. Not much makes Daddy look that way.

  “Why? Is it her headaches?” you ask him, though you don’t know why a headache would send her to the hospital.

  “We’re not sure. She’s very dizzy, and she fell.”

  “She fell?”

  “She can’t stand up right now. I’ve called an ambulance. You’ll go to Jane’s.”

  “An ambulance?” You keep repeating what Daddy says.

  “I’m going to call Peggy now,” he says. You wait for him to say that everything will be okay, but he doesn’t.

  You get up and follow him into the dark kitchen, and you flip on the light. The sink is full of dishes. Crumbs litter the counter. Nobody cleaned up. You hear Ma moan a little in the bedroom.

  “Can I see her?” you say as he walks you to the door.

  “No, Ari. She’s very uncomfortable. You’ll see her when she’s better. I promise.”

  He sends you downstairs in your pj’s holding your pillow and a key to the apartment so you can come up and get changed for school in the morning. He rushes you out before the ambulance gets there.

  You and Jane watch outside her window when the ambulance comes. You see Ma being taken away on a stretcher. Daddy gets in after her, and off they go, sirens screaming into the night while Jane holds your hand. But even with Jane’s fingers grasping yours, you feel alone. Her room smells a little musty from the rain outside. Another wave of anger makes the back of your neck feel hot and prickly. It should be Leah taking care of you while Ma is in the hospital.

  “I’m mad at her,” you say to Jane.

  “Your mother?”

  “No, Leah,” you say. “It seems like everything is falling apart without her.”

  “But this isn’t her fault,” Jane says.

  You walk away from the window. “Maybe it is, though,” you say and get in the sleeping bag Peggy put down for you on the carpet, curling up on your side.

  Jane gets in her bed. “The doctors will fix your mom,” she says. “It’ll all go back to normal soon.”

  You nod and press your face into the pillow so Jane can’t see you cry because you don’t think there will ever be a normal to go back to.

  The next morning, Peggy wakes you up by gently rubbing your back. You jump, not knowing where you are for a second. Then you remember: Ma, the ambulance. Peggy kneels by your spot on the floor. “Ariel, sweetheart,” she whispers. “Your mom’s still in the hospital. They want to do a few more tests. I left some cereal on the counter, but I have to run to work.”

  Then she gives you a big, long hug. “Don’t worry, she’ll be okay,” she whispers in your ear. She probably doesn’t know for sure, but it still feels good to hear it. She smells like coffee and some flowery soap. You don’t want to let go. For a moment, you wish Peggy was your mom and Jane was your sister. Then you’d be exactly where you belong, and everything would be fine.

  She releases you slowly. “Gertie’s will be closed tomorrow, and Gabby is coming to stay with you when you get back from school.”

  “Oh?” you say. “But why can’t I stay here?”

  She shrugs. “Your father thought it would be best for you to be in your own place. Probably didn’t want to impose, I guess.”

  You want to stay with Jane. You think of Ma and how she’s always saying Peggy is a little “wild,” which is probably why Gabby is coming. Peggy doesn’t seem wild to you, just different from a lot of moms you know. She cares a lot about her pottery. She’s younger than Ma, not too much older than Gabby. But mainly she seems to do the things she wants to do, things that are for her. She takes good care of Jane, but if she gets into her work, Jane makes her own dinner. She plays the music she likes and dresses how she wants, not how moms usually dress in this town. You wonder if that’s what Ma calls wild, just being the person you want to be.

  Ma always seems to be doing things for other people. She works hard at the bakery for Daddy’s dream. She left her family and came to Connecticut so you and Leah would go to better schools. She always wears nice dresses and does her hair and puts on makeup the moment she gets up in the morning. Who would Ma be if she didn’t care what anyone thought? Who did Ma want to be before Daddy, before the bakery, before you and Leah?

  Peggy also tells you that Daddy said to put fresh sheets on Leah’s bed for Gabby.

  You eat some Lucky Charms with Jane and go upstairs to get changed afterward. You stand in your room, about to make Leah’s empty bed, and imagine Gabby sleeping in it, but you don’t want her to. It will remind you of Leah, seeing someone else in her bed. You try to remember what it was really like when Leah was home. You’re starting to forget a little, which makes you wonder what else you’ll forget about her.

  Leah was a restless sleeper. She tossed and turned and made little whimpering noises in her sleep. Sometimes she even snored. Once last summer, while she sat at the vanity getting ready for dance, she said she had just read an article in a magazine about how newlywed women could stay pretty in the morning for their new husbands. It said that one should always wake up before their husbands to brush their teeth, take out their curlers, and put on makeup. That way, the article said, you always stayed the girl he married.

  Leah laughed as she told you this. She stuck bobby pin after bobby pin into her bun and said, “Who would be ridiculous enough to marry someone who didn’t love them without their makeup on! Raj isn’t like that at all.”

  Now you realize Leah was already thinking of married life then, planning and imagining what it would be like to live as husband and wife. Did she still sleep the same way, tossing and turning and snoring, or was she different now that she was married? Was it better? Did Leah even want to be found?

  You pick up a pen at your desk and open your notebook.

  Nightmare

  Sometimes she would have

  nightmares—

  cry and yell

 
in her sleep.

  I would gently wake her

  and ask her if she

  was okay.

  She always said yes.

  And I was glad for her.

  I was glad she never remembered

  what was causing

  all that pain.

  How to Have Fun Anyway

  When Gabby comes over after school, she brings a bag of fun stuff for you, like she used to do when she babysat, and dumps it out on the dining room table. She pulls out a deck of cards, nail polish, a new pack of jacks, and a bag filled with red shoestring licorice, Now and Laters, and Hershey’s Kisses. It makes you feel ridiculous. You aren’t a little kid anymore.

  You stand, watching with your arms crossed.

  “Listen, Ari. I know there’s a lot going on for you. I can’t make any of it go away. But I can still be your friend,” she says, wiggling a banana Now and Later at you.

  You take it and start unwrapping the sticky little square. Was Gabby your friend? She used to be your babysitter. Now she works at the bakery, but when the bakery is gone, what will she be to you? Will you even see her anymore?

  “Thanks,” you say and go off to your room, hoping that Gabby will just leave you alone.

  You lie on the rug while Elvis sings about jailhouses and hound dogs. Then, after you switch to the Beatles and then to the Doors, and nothing seems to be the right music for how you feel, you picture Gabby sitting out in the living room all by herself.

  Shoestring licorice would taste pretty good right now. You like to eat one string at a time, taking little nibbles until the whole string is gone. You and Jane have contests to see who can eat a string the fastest without using your hands. Jane always wins.

  That’s what your apartment needs—Jane.

  When you come out of your room, Gabby is sitting with her feet up on the coffee table, reading a magazine and chewing on a piece of licorice, her favorite as well. You like that about Gabby. Even though she’s a grown-up, she still likes things like magazines and licorice.

  “Can I have my friend Jane over?” you ask.

  “Of course,” Gabby says, her eyes lighting up. “The more the merrier. We’ll get pizza and have a proper slumber party.”

  You run downstairs and knock on Jane’s door. She and Peggy are all set to watch a movie. You see a big bowl of popcorn sitting on the coffee table.

  “Oooh, can we have a dance party?” she says after you ask her to come over. You agree, and Peggy lets her go, and then you and Jane run upstairs as fast as you can, Jane taking the bowl of popcorn and her copies of Help and Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band with her. The two of you and Gabby pile on the couch with blankets and turn on the TV, first loading up on some candy and popcorn for energy.

  Then you bring out your record player. Jane puts on Help and turns the volume all the way up. As the three of you dance, Jane holds out the album cover and pretends to kiss Paul, which sends you and Gabby into fits of laughter. You never thought you could have fun like this with Leah gone and Ma in the hospital, and you expect to feel guilty, but you don’t, because for a few hours no one is going to get mad, or have a headache, or seem sad or tired. There are no secrets or missing sisters, only popcorn, candy, the Beatles, Jane, and Gabby.

  The next day, Daddy calls early in the morning. He tells Gabby that Ma is getting released from the hospital. He says that she has something called vertigo, which was caused by her migraines, which made her very dizzy. All she really needs is some rest. When Gabby explains this, you feel relieved, but you’re also sorry to see Gabby go, because when she leaves, she’ll take the fun with her. You both pick up the popcorn and candy wrappers, do all the dishes, and wipe down every surface. Gabby strips Leah’s bed and decides to strip yours as well and wash the sheets. When she’s downstairs starting the laundry, you look at both beds with no sheets or bedspreads on them, and you like the way it looks. It feels less like the room you’re supposed to be sharing with Leah. Maybe you’ll keep Leah’s bed like that.

  You head over to the bus, and Gabby rushes off to open up the bakery. Later, when you get home, Daddy’s making coffee in the kitchen. It’s so strange to see him there instead of Ma during a school day.

  “Hi, Daddy,” you say as he pours water into the percolator. He stops and gives you a quick kiss on the forehead.

  “Hi, Muffin. Are you all right?” he asks.

  “I’m fine. How’s Ma?” you say.

  “She’s okay, just resting in the bedroom.”

  “But if Ma’s okay, why did she need all those tests?”

  He finishes pouring coffee grounds in the filter and plugs it in. He turns, and you see the dark circles under his eyes. He’s never looked so tired.

  “They wanted to make sure she didn’t have something more serious,” he says, leaning against the counter.

  “Like what?” you ask.

  “Like a brain tumor,” he says flatly, but then he notices the shocked look on your face. “But she doesn’t have one, Muffin,” he says, pinching your chin gently. “That’s why she stayed in the hospital, so we could be sure. She’s going to be fine.”

  Even though it’s scary, you feel like he’s telling you the truth for once, and you’re glad. Suddenly all your angry thoughts at Ma vanish. You just want to sit next to her and hold her hand.

  “Can I go in the bedroom?” you ask in a small voice.

  Daddy nods. “Just knock first.”

  You go over to the bedroom and knock gently. “Hi, Ma, it’s me,” you call through the closed door. “Can I come in?”

  “Okay,” you hear Ma say after a moment.

  You open the door and look at her. She’s sitting up against the pillows, but her eyes are closed. She’s in her fuzzy pink robe, her hair is down, and she doesn’t have any makeup on. You can’t remember the last time you’ve seen her like this. She normally locks the door and doesn’t come out of her bedroom until she’s dressed and made-up, even on a Sunday.

  She opens her eyes and smiles. “And I thought my migraines were the worst thing I could feel. You just don’t know what’s going to take you down. But I think the worst is over,” she says and pats the bed for you to sit down. “For now.”

  “Are you feeling better?” you ask.

  “Yes, less dizzy,” she says. “But the medicine makes me tired, so I can either be dizzy or tired, isn’t that a nice choice? The doctor says I should feel fine in a day or two. I’m glad to see that you and Gabby didn’t wreck the house.”

  “Nope. We even did the laundry.” But you think of last night with pizza boxes, popcorn, blankets, and candy everywhere. It would have sent Ma right back into the hospital.

  She smiles and pats your hand. “Good girl.”

  Your heart leaps a little as you hear those words again.

  Ma’s eyes are getting heavier and heavier. She closes them and murmurs, “Leah, don’t worry. I’m fine.”

  You freeze. Did she just mix up your names, or did she actually think she was talking to Leah? You watch her for a few minutes as her breathing becomes deeper. Her chest goes up and down.

  “Ma?” you say, but she doesn’t answer. She’s already asleep.

  You go back into the living room. Daddy sits at the table with his coffee and the newspaper spread in front of him. You sit across from him quietly and listen to him turn the pages. You can’t think of the last time you were alone with him, really alone. Ma is usually around. She doesn’t go many places. She’s either here or at Gertie’s, the grocery store, or sometimes at Temple Beth Torah. That’s it, her whole life. Daddy, too. You glance over to the dark TV, where Jane was kissing the screen the night before, making you laugh. Everything felt like it was in color. Now it’s back to black and white.

  “Do you guys have friends?” you ask.

  Daddy looks puzzled as he puts down the newspaper.
He takes a long sip from his mug. “Of course. We have lots of friends. We just haven’t had much time to see them lately.”

  Lots of friends. You wonder if this is true. Your parents used to have two couples over from the synagogue for card nights, but they haven’t been over since Leah left. “Who is Ma’s best friend?” you ask.

  Daddy thinks for a second. “Maybe Becky or Barbara.” He murmurs the names of the women who came over to play bridge. “But I think when people get older, they don’t have best friends like they do when they’re younger.”

  “Oh,” you say and put that on the growing list of why being a grown-up doesn’t sound very good at all. “So did Ma have a best friend when she was younger?”

  “Why are you asking?” he asks, looking down at you over the black rims of his thick glasses. “I’m not really sure.”

  You shrug and think of how you and Jane can sit on her bed with a bag of chips and for a little while nothing else matters. When it’s like that between the two of you, you feel inside your life instead of outside of it, and you realize you’ve never thought of Jane as your best friend until now.

  How to Make Soup

  When you come home from school the next afternoon, you hope to see Ma up and about, but the kitchen is dark and gloomy. You can hear the low murmur of the public radio news station trickling out from under your parents’ door.

  You click on the kitchen light and see the bank calendar hanging on the wall. The pictures are of the shops around town or a pretty garden outside someone’s house. You don’t even know what date it is. You lean closer. Ma has written something in the little square, and it makes your heart stop. You cover your mouth with your hand. Tonight’s the eve of Rosh Hashanah.

  Daddy and Ma must have forgotten with everything going on. Normally you’d stay home from school and go to services in the morning. Ma would make her Coca-Cola brisket and apple-noodle kugel. You and Leah would make the honey cake. Daddy would bring home his round raisin challah. Sometimes you would bring food to Brooklyn, or your aunts, uncles, and cousins would come over. You think of Ma rushing around with a bunch of pots going on the stove, the apartment alive with relatives, talking, laughing, eating. Will it ever be like that again? Or is that part over, too, and you just don’t know it yet?