My mom is so different. She doesn’t believe in typical male/female roles and she taught me that, too. When Dad was home he had me outside doing yard work. I wonder now if Mom’s family is like the Mitchells or like Mom. I guess I’ll be finding out soon.
“Raina, can I speak with you for a moment?” Grandma says. She has an urgency about her, so I follow without question. I catch up with her in her bedroom; I didn’t know old people could move that fast. She closes the door behind me. There’s a chest at the foot of her bed and she starts pulling out blankets and boxes. She stops when she gets to one particular small box and carries it to me.
“What is it, Grandma?”
“I have something for you. It was a gift to me from your father when he was a boy.” She holds up a jewelry box that’s tied closed with a piece of red yarn. “Here it is.”
She leaves everything she’s pulled out of the chest scattered across the floor and sits on the bed with the box held up to her heart. I sit next to her.
In a soft, smooth voice that barely resembles hers, my grandmother tells me, “When your father was a young boy, he was very attached to me. More so than his brother or sister were. Maybe because he was my first, and my only child for so long. Whatever the reason, he just needed my attention more. He was always giving me little gifts, like flowers that he picked in the yard or craft projects he made in school. This was a gift from him when he was in elementary school. He saved up spare change that his father let him have and rode his bike to the drugstore and bought this for me.”
She hands me the box and I pull off the yarn. Inside is a silver necklace. The pendant is an elephant, about the size of a fifty-cent coin my mom once gave me for good luck. The elephant is made of silver and decorated with tiny gemstones of all different colors. She says, “It’s not expensive, although it seems that things were made better back then. Its value is in its sentiment.” She takes it from my hands and puts it around my neck. It hangs down to my heart.
“It’s beautiful,” I say. I’m not sure if this is a gift I can accept; it obviously means a lot to her.
“David had been reading about mythology and how elephants were considered the divine guide because they break a path through the jungle world.”
“Grandma, I can’t take this from you.” I feel the texture of the elephant, the gems so delicate against my fingertips.
“You must take it. I’m afraid I don’t know when I’ll see you again. And I know this is a difficult time for you. Please take this, my precious child.” She holds my face in her hands and looks at me lovingly. “Think of your father when you wear it. He’ll always be with you in spirit to guide your way.”
“How do you know that?” I say. I’m holding back tears and remembering his promise to me in my dream.
“A mother knows these things. Just think of him and you’ll feel his presence. He loved you so much, Raina.” She kisses my forehead with a light touch. Without another word she moves back to the chest and starts putting things away. I help her.
***
I don’t understand why we can’t fly to New Orleans and buy a car there, it would be faster that way. I asked mom about it but she said it was easier this way. There’s no way driving a thousand miles is easier than flying. And she was acting really strange last night. When I went to ask her about the drive, she was looking through her suitcases like she’d lost something. I asked her what she was looking for and she said, “Nothing.” I don’t know what I’ll do if she falls apart now.
Grandpa Mitchell brings us to a used car lot that’s owned by a friend of his. Mom doesn’t like any of the cars they show her, and she refuses to look at any minivans. I’m embarrassed, and I feel bad that she’s being rude to Grandpa and the salesman. They’re only trying to help.
Finally she settles on a SUV. Not one of the giant-sized ones; it’s small, and kind of cute. I don’t care for the white paint, but Mom says she likes it, so fine.
While she’s signing the papers, Grandpa has a chance to talk to me alone. “We’re always here for you. I want you to know that.”
“Like, if I don’t like New Orleans and I want to come live here instead?” I say, curious about what his response will be. From the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting to be asked that.
I’m about to take my question back when he says, “Yes, you always have a home with us. I don’t want to upset your mother by saying that, now. But it’s the truth. I mean it when I said anything. You have our number, right?”
“Yes,” I say. I wonder if it’s too soon to take him up on his offer. I’d love to stay with them. And Brandon and Melissa are more like brother and sister to me. I’ve always wanted to be part of a big family. But I know I can’t; Mom would be so mad. I will keep his offer in mind, though.
Mom is done with the paperwork and she’s holding the keys out for us to see. She’s smiling, she looks happy. It makes me want to be happy too. She says, “It’s all ours!”
“Good job, Rachel,” Grandpa says.
Without acknowledging what he just said, she says, “Well, it’s a three-day drive, we’d better get going. The salesman said they’d move our luggage from your car to our new one.”
We said our goodbyes to everyone else back at the house this morning. Mom’s goodbye to Grandpa is quick. She gives him an obligatory hug and then she’s behind the wheel.
“You take care, Raina. You’re all we have left of your father. We need you,” he says.
“I love you, Grandpa.” I give a big hug to the only grandfather I’ve known and I walk away without looking back.
I put my headphones on and listen to music. Mom drives so slow, cars are passing us by. I think I’ve figured out why she didn’t want to fly—she’s in no hurry to get back to her childhood home.
I turn my music off and tell her, “I could help with the driving, you know.”
“I told you already, you’re not ready for this kind of interstate driving.”
I turn my music back on; she puts a CD into the player. I hear her shout, “It works!”
“Yippee,” I say with a sarcastic tone that I hope she picks up on.
She does, “Well, Miss Mitchell, it’s nice to see you getting back to your old self.”
“Thanks,” I say, and turn up my music.
***
I look at the clock on the dashboard and realize we’ve been driving for four straight hours. I turn off my music and listen to the hum of the tires on the pavement. I don’t know when she turned off her CD, but she’s very quiet now. I look over at her and she says, “When you were born, I knew you’d be my only child.”
“Why?”
“Because you were a difficult pregnancy, and I was only 18.”
“Well, yeah, you were young, almost the age I am now. It seems kind of too young to decide you didn’t want any more kids.”
“I just knew though. I looked at you and it was like looking at my heart. It hurt how much I loved you, and I knew I didn’t want to go through that again.”
“I always thought I might have a brother or sister one day. But now…” I say, before I realize that it brings the conversation back to Dad’s death. I look over at Mom; the highway lights splash across her face as we pass them one by one. Her expression is unchanged. Did she even hear me?
“I named you Raina because it rained so much while I was waiting for you to be born. We had one storm after another. The weather wasn’t so unusual for that time of year on the Gulf of Mexico. Hurricane season had just begun. Somehow those rains felt different though, they made me feel different—or maybe it was the hormones, I don’t know. But then, the night you were born, it stopped raining. And the next day the sun was shining.”
She glances at me. “It was your father who chose your middle name, because he said you were his ray of sunshine. I didn’t like the name, personally; I mean, Ray is a boy’s name. But, I agreed to it as long as we could spell it R-a-e. He said he didn’t care how it was spelled, as long as he could call you Raina Ra
e. I thought that was a bit much, so that’s why I don’t call you that. Well, unless I want your attention…” She trails off, lost in her own thoughts again.
I’ve heard that story many times, but I try to listen as though it is the first time. I don’t know what to say to comfort her anymore; I guess it’s ok just to be sad. I turn on the radio and we listen to whatever local station we can pick up.
~ 3 ~
Three days of driving, two nights in cheap hotels, and we arrive in New Orleans with the sunset. Once we’re on I-10, Mom navigates without the GPS that she used in the other cities we’ve driven through. She turns off the interstate and onto a busy street.
“Why are there bars on all the doors and windows?” The houses look so different from any other city I’ve been in.
“It’s wrought iron. It’s used on doors, windows, and as fences and decorations. But it was first used for security,” she says.
“Well, they could just get alarms now.”
“They could,” she says. “Honey, this is the French Quarter.”
“I’ve heard of it. I didn’t know this is the part of the city where you were from,” I say.
“I don’t really like to talk about it,” she says.
“What about me? Maybe I wanted to talk about it. This doesn’t look so bad. I would have liked to come here and visit. And I can’t believe you kept your family, my family, from me.” I’d been so caught up in my father’s death that it didn’t really sink in, until now. It’s like a different world down here, it’s so old and yet so colorful. It’s vibrant and alive, and I feel like I’ve missed out on something.
Mom turns right on Magazine Street and ignores my desire for answers. “This is the street I grew up on. The other end of this street”—she motions behind us—“takes you to the heart of the French Quarter.”
“And your dad still lives in the house you grew up in?”
“Yes. Your grandfather is excited to see you,” she says.
I’m nervous, and I feel a little sick. I’m ready to get out of this car; three days of being stuck in here is enough. I wish I knew what to expect. What if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like him? There’s no time to worry about that now because Mom just pulled into the driveway.
We are greeted with a homecoming party. I don’t know any of these people but they seem happy to see Mom and me. I am introduced to my grandfather first. He greets me with a kiss on the cheek. “Hello, Raina,” is all he says. His hair is thick and gray. He’s thin, and dressed in slacks and a blue pullover shirt. He doesn’t look me in the eye except once; I see a hint of my own reflection looking back at me. Now I see where I get my dark eyes. He turns to sit back down at the table, which is covered with newspapers.
“He likes to read the paper,” says a woman with short, blond hair. “It’s all he does anymore.” She smiles and says, “I’m your aunt Brooke, by the way. I’m Jacob’s wife.”
My mom interrupts and says, “Jacob is my brother.” She reaches out for him and gives him a hug. He gives her an awkward-looking pat on the back and she lets go.
Jacob says to mom, “We are all very sorry to hear about David.” Then he looks at me and nods his head and I understand that his sympathy is extended to me too.
He is the overdressed one of the bunch with his suit and tie. Although he’s loosened his tie, he still looks overdressed. I turn to see Mom nod back at me, so when Uncle Jacob extends his arms to me I accept the brief embrace. Then I give a hug to Aunt Brooke.
It feels strange that they seem to know me, and then my aunt says, “You look just like your pictures.”
“Pictures?” I turn to ask my mom. She ignores my glare and gives Aunt Brooke a hug. They talk about how long it’s been and everybody looks great, but I can’t get past them having pictures of me and I have nothing of them.
“Oh my gosh, this must be Ellie!” my mom says. I turn to see who she’s so excited to see and it’s a girl who looks like she’s about my age. “Raina, this is Ellie. She’s your cousin!”
“Hi, Raina,” Ellie says with a smile. She has dark hair that hangs down past her shoulders and frames her face in waves. I can see the resemblance to me, except that my curly hair is longer. When she hugs me it feels comfortable. When we let go I see her bright-green eyes, like my mother’s, and I feel like I already know her.
I realize I haven’t said anything to her, so I hope that a simple, “Hi,” is enough.
“This must be overwhelming for you, Raina,” Aunt Brooke says.
“A little,” I say in such a low voice that I can barely hear it myself.
“There are a couple more people for you to meet,” she says. She takes a step back and I see a guy with longish hair that’s so blonde it’s almost white, and he has a peach-fuzz mustache. He wears glasses that have a thick, dark rim, and he has on a plaid shirt that’s rolled up to his elbows.
“Hi,” he says. “I’m Zac.” He shakes my hand, which I feel break out in a sweat. I must look a mess from the long drive. I wasn’t expecting to meet someone so…cute.
“Hi,” I say.
He smiles and says, “This is my mom. Everyone calls her Ms. Mona.”
“Hello, dear,” she says, and holds me by my arms. I’m thinking she’s going to lay a big, wet kiss on my cheek, or on my lips, but she just looks me in the eye and lets go. Before I have time to know what she’s about to do, she pulls me close and gives me a big hug. I can’t say it’s terrible; she’s a big woman, and her embrace feels comforting. I feel myself exhale breath I didn’t realize I was holding in. She in turn gives my mother a big hug, but skips the arm holding.
“They live across the street, Raina. They’re friends of the family,” Aunt Brooke says.
“Oh,” Mom says. “In the old Larson house on the corner?”
“Yes. Was that a lucky guess?” Ms. Mona says.
“No, oh, yes, well, I saw that it had been renovated and I know the Larson’s didn’t ever spend money on the place, so…” Mom looks embarrassed.
Before I can wonder what’s gotten into my usually calm mother, Aunt Brooke says, “Well, we’ve been waiting for you both. Let’s eat, it’ll make you feel better.”
I notice she’s addressing me. Do I look like I don’t feel well?
“Good,” Uncle Jacob says. “I was starting to think y’all would never get here.” He heads past Grandpa and into the kitchen. Aunt Brooke and Ms. Mona follow him and they start taking food out of the oven and refrigerator.
“Sorry, traffic was bad and we got a late start,” Mom says.
“I told Brooke you would be late,” he says with a chuckle. He and Brooke move around the kitchen in unison. They seem like the perfect couple.
“You should have started without us,” Mom says. She joins them in the kitchen, but just leans against the counter and watches with a half-hearted, “Can I help?”
“Just grab a plate and help yourself,” Brooke says.
I’m standing next to Ellie. I want to say something to her, but I’m not sure what. She sits at the table next to Grandpa. I look for Zac, hoping I’m not obvious about it. He’s sitting in the living room on the sofa, busying himself on his cell phone.
Ellie says to me, “I’ll wait until they’re done in there. Have a seat.” She offers me the chair between her and Grandpa. He looks intent on his paper and doesn’t look up at me. I sit and face my cousin.
She says, “Did you hear much about us?”
“No,” I say.
“It seems like you’re surprised,” she says.
“I am, a little.”
“You’ll get used to us. We’re not as crazy as we seem,” she says with a smile.
“I didn’t think so. How old are you?” I ask.
“I’m 19,” she says. When’s your birthday?”
“Not until November. I’m a Scorpio.”
“Oh,” I say. “I don’t know what I am.”
“Really? You don’t know your birth sign?”
I look down
at the newspaper; I never really thought about it.
“What day is your birthday?”
“July 30th.”
“Let’s see…” She looks up at the ceiling as if the answer is there. “You’re a Leo.”
“A lion?”
“Yep,” she says.
“Ok, girls, go help yourself to some dinner,” Aunt Brooke says. “Ellie, would you please make a plate for your grandpa?”
“Of course,” Ellie says.
I follow her into the kitchen. The stove is avocado green and the cabinets are dark wood, but everything else is white and looks new. There’s a casserole, a platter of sandwiches, rice, beans, corn, and potato salad. “That’s a lot of food,” I can’t help but say.
“My parents always make a lot of food, even though not many people show up for dinners here anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when Grandpa retired a few years ago, the guys he worked with, and sometimes their wives, would come over and visit, and we would come over with food.”
“Why did they stop?”
She looks through the doorway at Grandpa to see if he’s listening; he’s not. “He’s starting to lose his memory, and I guess it’s too hard for those guys to watch him get so old so fast.”
“Wow, I didn’t know. My mom didn’t tell me. She didn’t tell me anything,” I say.
She nods and pulls three plates out of the cabinet, hands one to me and sets one down. “I’ll make Grandpa’s plate first.”
Jacob and Zac sit in the living room and eat. The news is on TV. It’s always strange to see news in a new city. It’s easy enough to tune it out though. Mom, Aunt Brooke, and Ms. Mona are talking about people I don’t know. Ellie, Grandpa, and I eat in silence, pretending not to listen to the gossip.
After dinner Aunt Brooke and Ms. Mona clean up in the kitchen, and Uncle Jacob is asleep on the sofa. Mom talks with Brooke in the kitchen, but manages not to get her hands dirty. Grandpa begins to mumble something about what he’s reading in the paper, something about the mayor.
Zac walks over to us and says, “Well, I’m gonna head out. It was nice to meet you, Raina.”
The Mystic Page 2