The Symptoms of My Insanity

by Mindy Raf

  “Oh.” I turn my head in. “Yeah. I mean … no, it’s not.” I shake my head, which is so close to his now our lips are practically touching. “It’s not a weird thing to do for a—” and then our lips are touching. He crisscrosses his arms around my waist and pulls me into him closer. I close my eyes, and breathe him in as my head just naturally tilts to the side and everything inside me loses density.

  I don’t know how long we kiss, but I think about three whole spinning century-seconds go by before we pull away a little. Marcus laughs. It’s a nice laugh. “Okay, good.”

  “Good.” I smile and let my head rest on his shoulder.

  • • •

  Two slow songs later and I’m practically floating out of the cafeteria. I didn’t see Mom by the donation table and I’m heading to the bathrooms, wanting to make sure she’s okay.

  Then I spot her back where I left her, staring at my display.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hello, sweetie.” She remains staring up at my Viral canvas. Then she turns to me. “Look at you,” she says almost more to herself than to me.

  “I know, I look awful.”

  “Oh, no, no. You look very pretty,” she says.

  “Right.” I shake my head. “I doubt that’s what you think.”

  “No … I—listen I know I’m not the easiest to please regarding … presentation and well … perhaps … perhaps I do need to broaden my scope when it comes to thinking I know the way you girls should look, and … I just don’t want you to ever think that I’m truly unhappy with how you … I mean, even now sweetie, right now … I think you do look … very pretty.” She smiles, and leans closer to brush one of my paint strands up and behind my ear with her good hand.

  “Thanks.” I smile back at her.

  I stay close to her side, both of us now looking up at my Viral painting, tilting our heads at the same angle.

  “You know, my range of motion and strength are getting pretty good now,” Mom says, keeping her eyes on the canvas.

  “Oh … well, that’s great, Mom.”

  “I couldn’t even use both arms for carrying the other day, but just this morning I was actually able to open the dryer, empty it, and everything.”

  “See, I told you if you just did those stretches gently, you’d—”

  “Such a pretty shade of green,” she cuts in breezily, pointing at the canvas. “Which reminds me, you shrunk some clothes.”

  “Oh … Oops.”

  “No, it’s okay. It was mostly your things, and nothing that nice really. Might have to throw out a couple of your sweaters, them being so tiny now and all. Especially that green sweater. Such a pretty shade of green.” She looks at me and then back at the green in the canvas. “But I think we should definitely throw that one out, yes?”

  “Oh. Um … yeah.” I smile, staring at Mom still fixated on Viral. “I really … I hate that sweater now anyway.”

  “I thought so,” Mom says, nodding her head. “So … my Izzy might be going all the way to Italy, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  The truth is, I don’t know if now’s the best time to go off to Italy for a whole summer. I don’t even know if I got the scholarship anyway, but it’s just that I have the whole rest of my life to be off, traveling on my own. But how many more summers will I get to spend here with my mom?

  “Well … I’m very proud of you. And I think this piece I splurged on”—she gestures back to the Viral canvas—“is going to look great in my new office.”

  I turn to her, feeling my eyes widen and soften as I smile and say, “Yeah, I think it will too.”

  Mom shuffles in closer and wraps her free arm around my waist.

  I know she’s waiting for me to pull away and give her my “please stop embarrassing me on school grounds” look, but instead I turn in and wrap both my arms around her waist. I think she’s surprised at first, me hugging her like this in public, and in the middle of my high school. But then she loosens up and wheels her pole forward so she can partially wrap her other arm around my back. I press into her gently so as not to hurt her stitches, and she squeezes me back tightly with her good arm.

  I’m wishing everything could pause somehow and we could stay together like this for a long, long time. I don’t focus on taking a really good mental snapshot of the moment, though, because I know as soon as I do, it will be too late, it will be over already. And really, no mental snapshot will ever be good enough. It’s like tracksuit man said—moment to moment is as far as you can go sometimes. And I’m thinking right now, it’s the best place to be.

  Acknowledgments

  Many, many thanks—in no particular order …

  To Jessica Garrison, for her indispensable insight, guidance, answers, questions, and patience. Thank you for finding me and then letting me find my story; to Lauri Hornik for believing in Izzy from day one; to Maggie Olson, Greg Stadnyk, Jason Mercier, and Kristin Smith for their jacket design and art expertise; and to Kathy Dawson, Sarah Creech, Regina Castillo, and everyone at Penguin Young Readers for their hard work and enthusiasm.

  To my NYC comedy family, the stand-ups, the storytellers, the improvisers, the music makers, the wig-wearing character slayers—for letting me belong, and always inspiring me to create and play.

  To all my New York offices (diners, coffee shops, bars with outlets): specifically Galaxy Diner, Carroll Gardens Classic Diner, and Fortunato Brothers for letting me stay and refilling my coffee.

  To Benson Barr for his much needed guidance at the start; to my agents, Kelly Harms Wimmer, who got this Izzy car running; and Christina Hogrebe, whose patience, support, gentle prodding, and know-how got it to the finish line; and to everyone at Jane Rotrosen.

  To Marc Pattini, for giving great pep talks, listening to my symptoms, putting his headphones on when I asked him to, and letting me ramble it out; and my Pittsburgh second family for so many years, Art, Nancy, Dana, and Dave.

  To my crazy posse of loving Jewish relatives spread throughout fourteen states, specifically Suki and Dewey Loselle, for giving me a Connecticut home away from home and constantly keeping my belly full; and my partners in Raf-crime, Stacey Graff and Brian Raf, and my Raf-in-laws Jon Graff and Kelly Raf—thank you for keeping your Chicago and Portland doors open.

  To my dad, for his wisdom, for worrying but never doubting, and for continuing to tell me to do what I love; and my mom, for singing to her kugel, banging on pots and pans, and for being classy, witty, selfless, brave, and full of love right to the end.

  Mindy Raf is a writer, comedy performer, and musician based in Brooklyn, New York. She is a graduate of the University of Michigan, and grew up in a suburb of Detroit right around here (visualize the bottom of your left thumb). Mindy has written for CollegeHumor, VH1, TNT, The Daily Comedy Network, and was a contributor to the My Parents Were Awesome anthology. She continues to perform stand-up and music across the country.

  Visit Mindy at www.mindyraf.com