Lila Blue

by Annie Katz

  He was quiet then, because Lila had put down her comb and clippers and started into the head massage. They both closed their eyes and relaxed, and it seemed to make time slow down. By the time Lila opened her eyes and smiled, the whole conversation about guns seemed insubstantial.

  After he paid and left, I helped Lila sweep the floor and close the shop. It was almost six, and everything was pretty quiet on the sidewalks outside. While I swept the welcome mat and the sidewalk in front of the shop, I could see the other shops in our area.

  Kitty Lynn's shop was closed, and I could see her night light near the back door. I could see Les turning off their signs and locking the door, and when she saw me watching her, she waved. In the soup and salad place they were putting chairs up getting ready to mop the floors. The guy who closed up there waved at me, too.

  The Bakery Boys closed at one on Sundays. The flower shop was closed. Franny closed anywhere from noon to three on Sundays, depending on how busy she was. And finally there were the hardware store, closed, and Sunshine Books, where Curtis was sweeping the sidewalk and waving to me.

  So here it was, a big consortium of caring, something deeper and more important than casual neighbors. This was a community of people who relied on each other and protected each other by their loving vigilance. Wow. Home. Family. Neighbors. Home.

  I didn't want to think about the gun thing. I'd seen lots of pickups go through town with guns hanging across the back window. Sometimes drivers would park their trucks and leave their windows rolled down. Anyone could reach in and get the guns if he wanted to. It always made me nervous to see guns. Even when a policeman had a gun in a holster. Guns scared me.

  One time I was in Lila's shop when a man carried his rifle right into the shop and propped it up by her cutting station while he got a haircut. I couldn't believe it. Lila treated him like any other customer and didn't mention the gun.

  While Lila and I were walking home, I said, "Do you have a gun, Grandma?"

  "No, Cassandra, I don't," she said. "But I have owned guns before. Idaho is like here that way. Lots of people hunt or come from farms where it is normal to have guns. I was raised with guns."

  "They scare me," I said. "Like that time in your shop when the guy brought the gun in, I thought he was going to rob you."

  "I guess he could have, huh?" She laughed, but I didn't see anything funny in it. "Maybe that's why people carry guns around," she said, "to scare the rest of us or make us think they are powerful, that they could do anything they want because they have a gun and we don't."

  "Doesn't that scare you?" I asked.

  "No,” she said. “They could kill me or threaten to kill me, but that's all they could do. Since I'm bound to die anyway, why should that scare me?"

  "Well it scares me."

  "Actually, I feel sorry for them," she said. "I got rid of my guns because I learned they made me more afraid, not less afraid. The more paranoid a person is, the more he needs weapons and shields, and the more dangerous he is to himself and others. The most courageous among us need no weapons, no shields."

  We were getting close to Lila's house now, and the sun was bouncing brilliant lights from the surface of the ocean, like wet diamonds flashing in all directions.

  We stood and watched the sea together a few minutes from the porch, and soon Chloe and Zoe joined us there, weaving in and out around our ankles in a complicated dance that seemed to please them because they purred so loudly we could hear them over the roar of the surf.

  When we went inside, I asked, "Are you going to write about it?"

  "I don't know yet. I need to pray about it. I'm not sure I'm in the frame of mind where I could be objective, honest, and kind. I'd rather make peace than war. Especially with paranoid folks who love guns."

  When she put it that way, I prayed her prayers would tell her, No, don't write anything, stay out of it.

  Alas, the Dream Mother had other plans for us.

  Janice called the next morning, just as we got back from a long walk on the beach. Lila was in the kitchen, so I answered.

  "Mom," I said, genuinely happy to hear her voice. "How are you?"

  "I'm fine," she said. "Is Lila there?"

  "Yes, she's making coffee in the kitchen. Do you want to talk to her?"

  "Well, I can talk to you first," she said, but the way she said it made me think she'd really called to talk with Lila and I was just an afterthought.

  "Did you get my letter and the books?" I asked.

  "Yes, they came last week. The books are so big. I don't know where to put them all."

  "Did you look at them yet?"

  "I've been busy," she said. "Maybe today I'll have time. How are you, Sandy?"

  "I'm great. Shelly and her mom came. We got to spend all day Saturday together."

  "All the way to Oregon?"

  "Yes, it's not too bad if you fly into Portland. Can you come visit soon?"

  "That's what I need to talk to Lila about. Put her on, please."

  "So you're coming?" I was excited to show my mother how much I was growing up. Maybe she would see me in a new way.

  "Don't get your hopes up," she said.

  "Okay," I said. "I'll get Grandma. I love you, Mom." I put down the phone and realized I had gotten my hopes up, way up, and her tone of voice as much as her words deflated my balloon of hopes.

  I tried not to listen to Lila's conversation with my mom, but I heard anyway. The best I could guess from one side was that my mom wanted money for a trip, not a trip to Oregon. Lila said she'd pray about it and call her back the next morning.

  When she got off the phone, I looked at her like a beggar wanting a handout. She sighed. "Your mother has an opportunity to go to Mexico."

  "With a man," I said.

  "You're psychic!" she said, and we both laughed at that one.

  "Do you think she'll ever change?" I asked.

  "Everything is changing all the time. We can't stop it."

  "I know," I said, "but do you think she will?"

  "We often have to make the same mistake dozens of times before we realize we're hurting ourselves and we need to stop."

  "She's already made this mistake a dozen times I know of," I said. "And I'm barely twelve."

  "Well, maybe this will be the one that hurts so much she'll have to wake up and try something different. We can always hope."

  "Are you saying we should get our hopes up?"

  "Yes, Cassandra, we should get our hopes up as high as we can." She stood up, took my hands, smiled at me and started hopping up and down. "Come on, sweetheart. Get those hopes up as high as they'll go."

  We hopped up and down until the cats ran into Lila's room to hide under her bed, until we were both laughing and panting with all the hopping, and until tears were running down my cheeks. We got our hopes way up for Janice to wake up and try something different.

  For Lila's days off, we planned to stay home on Monday and then go into Salem shopping on Tuesday. Lila had some things she wanted to get at the beauty supply store, and she said we could shop for clothes for me if I wanted anything.

  "It's less than a month before school starts," she said. "I'm not sure what one wears to seventh grade these days, but maybe we'll get some clues at the mall."

  It started me thinking about seventh grade and going to school in Oregon and riding the school bus with Molly. I'd never cared that much about fashion, but now that my assignment was to kiss three boys, I wondered if I should pay more attention to how I looked.

  Shelly had always seen what the other girls were wearing and then chosen something different, because the last thing she wanted was to be one of the crowd. I'd been more oblivious, just wearing whatever my mom bought me on sale or whatever fit. Usually it came down to jeans and t-shirts and sweatshirts and canvas shoes, whatever felt comfortable and didn't need ironing.

  I never thought about dressing to be attractive before. I certainly didn't want to dress like my mom, but I was open to giving a little more thou
ght to clothes.

  Molly had given me two beautiful white cotton blouses that her real dad had sent her from Mexico. One was embroidered with butterflies all around the yoke and tree leaves in bright reds, yellows, and greens. It was very bold and I loved it. The other was just as beautiful, only it had bright flowers all around the yoke. The blouses fit well and Molly said they looked great with my jeans.

  I wanted to look for a denim skirt to go with them, because I thought that would look good for school, along with some flat shoes. So I did have some ideas of styles I wanted to try. It would be fun to shop for clothes for a change instead of just taking anything my mom gave me.

  While Lila was working downstairs Monday morning, I went upstairs to practice calligraphy and write a letter to Mark and Jamie and another one to Shakti. The new pens added a wonderful fullness to the letters, and I was pretty happy with how fast I was learning to write beautifully.

  Even so, the most I could manage was addressing the envelopes and writing salutations and closings in pretty writing. For the rest of the letters, I used regular pens and my messy combination of printing and cursive to get the job done.

  Dear Mark and Jamie, Molly and I are studying calligraphy, and Kim gave us some pens, so above is a sample. Lila and I are going to Salem tomorrow to shop for school clothes. I hope I can stay here for seventh grade. My mom hasn't said yes, but she hasn't said no either, so my hopes are high.

  Jamie, I found some drawings of yours in the Crow's Nest, so I'm keeping them safe for you. I love the one you drew of me and Chloe and Zoe. May I keep it? Are you still drawing? I haven't seen our baby seal, so I assume she is safe. We see seals sometimes outside the breakers, but I can't tell individual faces.

  There were lots of sandpipers out this morning while Lila and I were walking. I love how they flow in and out with the water line and how, when they all turn at once, they change color from gray to white and back to gray again. It's as if they have one mind. They are all part of one creature, and their mind is the sea. Sometimes I'm tempted to chase them like the dogs do to make them fly, but then I think it's not nice to frighten them, so I behave myself. Running after them is very tempting though.

  Mark, I hope your leg is healing and the physical therapist is getting nicer. Are you using crutches everywhere? Well, if you have time, please write. Namaste, Cassandra Blue

  After writing to my brothers, I came back downstairs to check in with Lila. She was writing at her desk and just smiled as I went by. Then I heard her call Marta. I tried not to snoop, but I couldn't help it. They were discussing the gun thing.

  "I'll try something," Lila said, "but I need you to tell me if I'm getting the right emotional undertones."

  There was a pause, in which I was sure Marta was agreeing to whatever Lila wanted. She was the editor, after all, and she needed Lila's work.

  I wasn't sure a person could possibly get all the undertones right with such a volatile issue. I went back upstairs with a big glass of iced tea and my dark thoughts, and that's how I started out my letter to Shakti.

  Dear Shakti, What do you think about guns? I mean people owning guns and keeping them in the house. Do your parents have guns? Some little kids got killed here playing with their parents' guns, and now some people want to regulate them. They're trying to get Lila involved. I don't have a good feeling about it. Am I being an ostrich and hiding my head in the sand?

  Thank you for coming all the way to Oregon to see me. I'm sad we won't be in seventh grade together, but I'm happy you will be in Boston in a good school. I hope you have time to call me. Still not sure about seventh grade for me. Lila is taking me to Salem tomorrow to shop for school clothes. Do you have any suggestions? What are boys attracted to? I'm keeping your assignment in mind and will send you progress reports.

  Molly is still plotting to get a dog for Kitty Lynn. Kitty is back in her shop today, so maybe she'll be ready for a new dog soon.

  I hope you and Ian are having a fun reunion. Keep your suits on! Love, Cassandra Blue

  I sealed both letters and took them downstairs to ask Lila for stamps. She was talking to Janice on the phone. I put my letters on her desk and plopped myself on the couch where I could gaze at the ocean and still listen in on the conversation.

  "If you're sure you want to do this," Lila said, "if you're sure it's the right thing, then I need something from you first."

  I could imagine my mother acting like a sullen teenager, saying, "What."

  "I need you to sign the papers I sent and return those with her birth certificate, medical records, and school records. When I get those, I'll send you the money."

  There was another pause.

  "You can come here anytime and have it changed. I don't feel right about you being out of the country if Cassandra is not legally provided for."

  I was holding my breath, afraid to think, waiting for what would come next.

  "It is a big decision, dear. Take plenty of time thinking about it. You don't have to decide right now."

  She listened for a long time and then said, "If he's pressuring you, that's not a good sign."

  She listened patiently again, and I wondered if my mother was sober. It was only noon, but that might not mean anything now that I was gone.

  Lila said, "I'm sure everything will work out. Don't worry. Whatever you decide will be right for everyone."

  I wanted to jump up and argue with Lila about that, but I kept still. I had a pretty good idea about what would be right for me, and it was staying in Oregon, not being in California or Mexico with Janice and some new man who was no different from the last dozen.

  When she hung up the phone, Lila went to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. I followed her. "What did she say?" I asked.

  "She wants to go to Mexico with this new fellow. He says she can work at a new retirement complex. He's telling her the job lasts six months, but he wants her to start right away, next week."

  "Why does she need money then?" I asked. "Why doesn't he pay to get her situated down there if he wants her to work for him?"

  "I asked her that," she said. "She didn't have a good answer."

  "So she'll let me stay here?"

  "We'll have to wait and see," she said. "And hope and pray." She hopped up and down in the kitchen a few times, trying to get me to laugh about getting our hopes up, but I couldn't lighten up. I really hated having to wait for my mother to decide my fate. She was incompetent.

  When the coffee was ready, we took our cups outside and sat on the porch steps and watched the gulls play on the wind and the gray waves break on the brownish gray sand. Heavy clouds hung over the whole area like a soggy blanket. I put the hood up on my sweatshirt and Lila wrapped her shawl over her hair and around her neck like a scarf. The coffee tasted so good outdoors.

  "Cassandra, you're going to have to forgive your mother someday. Might as well be today. Get it over with. Free yourself up for the rest of your life."

  "I'm not ready," I said.

  "When do you think you'll be ready?" she asked.

  "Not today," I said. "Maybe when she sends you all those papers and I can stay here. Maybe then."

  "Okay," she said. "But you might try forgiving just a few things a day for a while. To get in practice."

  "Like what?"

  "Like forgive her for drinking? For being your mother? For having problems with men? For not being able to see you because she's too busy looking at herself in the mirror?"

  "You make her sound like a monster."

  "Actually, she not that different from a lot of women her age. She's not a monster, but she's not the ideal mother, either." She laughed. "Of course, no one is the ideal mother, so there you go."

  "Okay, but I'm not sure how to forgive her. Do I have to stop being mad at her first?"

  "Well, in my experience, when you forgive a little, a little of the anger drains away by itself."

  "Okay, I forgive her."

  "Which part?"

  "I forgive her for being
my mother."

  "Good. That's a good place to start. How does it feel?"

  "I don't know. I don't think it worked. I'm still mad."

  "Maybe it will take some practice. Give it a few days. Forgiveness feels a lot like acceptance. Like nonresistance. Like allowing. You could say to yourself, I accept Janice as my mother. I allow Janice to be my mother. Janice is my mother, and it's okay. Try those a few days. See how you feel. Let me know, okay?"

  I tried it while I drank the rest of my coffee and watched the gulls dip and glide, swerve, pivot, and soar. It's okay that Janice is my mother. I accept my mother. Janice isn't ideal, nobody is, but she's not a monster, either. Repeating those ideas did cause something to loosen up inside me, making it easier to breathe. Something told me getting really good at forgiveness was going to take a lot more practice than getting really good at kissing.

  Lila worked on the gun essay Monday afternoon while I napped, read, knitted, and played with the kitty girls. I was curious about it, but I decided to wait to read it. Maybe she'd still decide not to get involved.

  Tuesday morning I woke up with this dream. I am in a little log cabin in the forest far away from anyone else. I live there by myself with a dog and some chickens. The weird thing is I'm myself, but I'm a man, and it's as if I'm watching myself, the man self, get ready to leave the cabin to go hunting with a gun. I have on a jacket with big pockets and heavy boots, and in the dream I can feel the weight of them on my body. My dog goes with me. We walk into the woods, and then it gets really dark and there is thunder and lightning. It rains so hard we try to get back to the cabin, but we are lost. I tell my dog to go home, thinking her instincts would be better than mine, but she just looks at me to lead her.

  When I woke up I felt really scared, like it meant something bad was going to happen to us. I wrote the dream down in my journal and tried to figure out what it meant, but nothing came to me besides the feeling of dread.