Lila Blue

by Annie Katz

  Lila laughed when she saw all the activity. "Marta and Hank wanted a big turn out," she said. "Their wish came true."

  Molly asked to stop and see what was happening, but Lila and Kitty Lynn wouldn't consider it.

  Kitty said, "I need to get Juliet home so she can try her new dishes." She kissed the top of Juliet's head. "She's had so many changes in her life."

  "Life is change," I said, and then I laughed at myself because it was something Lila said to me when I complained about things not staying the same.

  Molly said, "Change is life."

  We all agreed that was just as true.

  Molly said, "Curtis taught me about word equations, so now my brain won't leave them alone."

  "Like what?" I asked.

  "Is means equals, so you can switch the sides of a sentence and it still has to be true," she said. "So God is love equals Love is God."

  "Time is money equals Money is time," I said. I recognized the word game Shakti and I played as a form of word equations. Molly and I entertained each other that way until Lila dropped them off and drove us home.

  A few minutes after we got in the door, Marge called to tell us about the meeting. The bus was from Portland, and it was full of men from a gun club. Not one woman on the bus. The gun guys said the community had no business discussing handgun restrictions and that whoever organized the meeting was un-American. Every time someone from Rainbow Village tried to talk, they had a long speech to put the person down, backed up by research statistics from gun experts.

  Hank stopped them after a while, saying that only people who lived in the community could contribute to the discussion, but they were ready for that. One of their members did have some beach property here, so they gave him written speeches to read, and then they booed and cheered loudly in response to anything local residents tried to say. In a nutshell, the bus guys filibustered.

  Finally Marta gave up trying to talk and took pictures of everyone. There were news people from Portland, too, so it was a circus. Like Marge, most residents gave up and went home. Any chance of real discussion was impossible.

  "What silliness," Lila said after she got off the phone and told me the story. "That's what happens when you shine the light on a can of worms."

  "I'm so glad we were at The Pottery," I said.

  "Me too," Lila said. "I always feel refreshed when I visit there, the way I imagine some people feel when they've been to church. It's sacred space."

  I thought about the picture of me in the center of the bulletin board at The Pottery. "Lila, do you think my picture in the Portland paper made the gun men come?"

  "I don't know, Cassandra. Even if it did, it doesn't have anything to do with you, not you as a person. You didn't speak out against guns, you didn't shoot out any windows, you didn't write a column or play with guns. It has nothing whatsoever to do with you."

  "Then how did my picture get in the middle of it?"

  "How does anything work out the way it does?"

  I laughed. "Grandma, I can see where this is going."

  "Where, then?" she asked.

  I took a deep breath, smiled, bowed Namaste to her and the cats who were spooned on her lap, and launched into her philosophy statement. "All that's real is here and now, so right here and right now, everything is beautiful. We're home. We're healthy. Life is good."

  "Nice job," she said, laughing. "It sounds just as good coming from you as it does from me."

  "Better," I said, "because I'm young to be so smart."

  "And you're smart to be so young," she said, grinning at me.

  My mind jumped up and ran away with word equations until it wore itself out and I had to put it to bed.

  The next morning, Lila was in the kitchen getting ready to scramble eggs when someone knocked on our door. It took me several moments after I opened the door to sort out that the woman in the strange couple standing before me was my mother. Her hair was very short and bleached blonde, in a spiky arrangement that made her look like a teenager. She'd lost so much weight her bones looked sharp. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she wore shapeless clothes and no makeup. Her favorite spike heeled shoes were the only familiar things, and those were too big. I'd never seen her look so sick, even the time she'd had walking pneumonia and had to be hospitalized on my seventh birthday.

  She stared at me too, trying to register the changes in me, and then she stepped inside, threw her arms around me, and said, "Sandy. Oh God. I was afraid I'd never see you again."

  "Mom?" I stood there letting her hug me, but I wanted to push her away, because she didn't smell like my mother. She smelled of plain soap and underneath that a strong chemical smell that seemed to come out of her skin, something acrid I wanted to pull away from. I was afraid it would get on me and I'd never be able to get it off.

  Lila came in then, and she must have quickly figured out what was going on, because she said, "Janice. Here, come in. You're just in time for breakfast." She introduced herself to the man.

  "Roger Hillmen," he said. "We drove all night."

  Janice hugged me as though she was sinking and I was the only thing she had to hang on to. I felt terrible about it, but I wanted to get away from her. She smelled horrid, worse than sick, worse than dirty. Lila rescued me by putting her arms around us both and leading us over to the couch. She held Janice’s hands, pulled her down to the couch, and sat beside her.

  "Cassandra," she said to me, "Get your mother the afghan from the foot of my bed. She's chilled from the fog."

  I did as she said, and Lila draped the afghan around Janice's neck and shoulders, making her look exactly like a refugee waif. Lila sat close to my mother's left side, holding her hands and letting Janice lean into her body for support.

  I went to the bathroom and scrubbed my arms and face where my mother had touched me. After I felt better, I went to the kitchen, poured coffee for Roger and Janice, and took it to them.

  Roger took the cup I offered him and smiled. He was an extra large man, tall and broad, with short salt and pepper hair. He wore a crisp, long sleeved dress shirt and jeans. In contrast to my mother, Roger was super clean and healthy looking.

  I put Janice's coffee cup on the table in front of the window, because Lila was still holding my mother's hands, giving her someone to hang on to. Janice didn't look at me. She stared at her hands in Lila's, seemingly unaware of anything else in the room. I wondered if she was using a drug that blocked out everything in her peripheral vision, like me.

  I stood silently near her for a moment, and when she didn't acknowledge me, I knew my forgiveness practice had been working, because my heart filled with compassion for this sick, frightened little sister who was my mother. I bowed a silent Namaste to her, then returned to the kitchen to make more coffee and prepare breakfast for our guests.

  I put out more placemats and dishes and started making biscuits. The adults didn't need me in the living room, and baking was a way I could calm myself and recover from the shock of seeing my mother so ill.

  While I worked I heard Lila patiently extracting the story of how they got to our house. I listened as one would listen to a television program in another room, with part of my attention, detached, as if their story didn't involve me.

  Janice had gone to Mexico with the man who had offered her a job, but it was a scam. When she realized she was in trouble, she managed to get back to California and go on a terrible binge. Someone found her passed out in a parking lot, and she ended up in the hospital.

  She tried calling her mom, her sisters, and us, but no one answered, so she called Roger.

  "I told her I'd only help if she wanted to get sober," he told Lila.

  "A true friend," I heard Lila say to him.

  He thanked her and went on. "I'm driving her to Seattle. It was the only rehab place I could find that would admit her today. They had a cancellation and said if we could get there by tonight, they'd take her."

  "If Sandy could stay with you until I get better?" I hea
rd Janice ask.

  "Yes," Lila said. "This is her home as long as she wants to stay."

  "I didn't bring the papers," Janice said.

  "Don't worry," Lila said. "We can take care of the details later."

  Roger said, "I'm headed back to California tomorrow, so I can mail things from Sacramento..."

  "And money," Janice said without waiting for him to finish. "It's really expensive. I'll pay it all back. I promise."

  "Yes," Lila said. "I'll give you the money. You can pay me back when you are healthy. Don't worry. There's plenty of time."

  "Thank you, Lila," Janice said. "I feel bad I can't take care of Sandy." She laughed weakly. "I can't take care of myself right now."

  "You'll heal," Lila said. "You are among friends, and you will heal. I know you will. You have a long, beautiful life ahead of you."

  "Do you really see that, Lila?" Janice asked. "My future?"

  "Yes! I see your beautiful life waiting for you. Better than you can imagine. All you have to do is get well. Don't worry. Everything is fine." The conversation in the living room paused on that hope filled note.

  I put the pan of biscuits in the hot oven, turned on the timer, and put jam, honey, and butter on the table. If Janice felt like eating, I thought she might want honey on her biscuits.

  I went to the archway between the kitchen and the living room and looked at my mother. She was crying and hugging Lila. Beyond them outside the picture window, breaking through the fog, sunlight flashed sudden brief rainbows. When I looked at my mother, I imagined not only Lila comforting her, but also, surrounding them, a host of nearly visible saints and angels. The whole world was shining light on my mother.

  Lila had been right. My mother wasn't lost. She found us. And she was on her way to a safe place where she could begin her healing season. She was not lost and she was not alone. She found Lila, and Lila's love and support could work miracles. I was living proof of that.

  Roger leaned back, stretched out his legs, and crossed his ankles. His left arm lay across the top of the couch toward Janice, but he didn't touch her. He stared outside where the seagulls had started their morning commute south. The rainbow sunlight had dissipated the fog enough so large areas of beach flowed in and out of visibility. In some places I could see foamy waves rolling onto sand, again and again, endlessly.

  When Roger noticed me, he held up his coffee cup and said, "Wonderful coffee, darlin’." He smiled a sad tired smile, the way Lila did when she was trying to see things clearly and make the best of them. Roger seemed a decent man, not at all like the men my mother chose as boyfriends, and I remembered him saying "God bless you" to me when we had talked only a few days earlier. I returned his smile and went to the kitchen to check on the biscuits and fetch the coffee pot for refills.

  As I bent over the warm oven and smelled the first browning on the biscuits, I had a clear vision of my beautiful life stretching out in front of me, and I knew God had blessed me beyond my wildest dreams.

  I saw myself living in Rainbow Village, riding the school bus with Molly, baking apple pies and pumpkin pies, reciting poetry in front of the fireplace, celebrating the holidays with Jamie and Mark, visiting Shakti in Boston, and kissing Dante. I would practice sweet delicious kisses with Dante until I was satisfied I had mastered the essential grownup skill of kissing.

  My future was all good, all beautiful, all magic and miracles, and my heart overflowed with joy. Maybe I wasn't seeing the future exactly as it would unfold, but that was fine. My hopes were as high as the sky, and I took a deep breath, smiled, and let them stay there. I was Cassandra the Magnificent, and no matter what came next, I knew everything would be wonderful, because I was exactly where I wanted to be, here now with Lila Blue.

  ***The End***

  About the Author

  Annie Katz has a bachelor's degree in English literature and a master's degree in guidance and counseling. For many years, she supported her reading and writing habits by working on the Oregon Coast as a barber, bookstore clerk, waitress, and college teacher. Her life there inspired the delightful characters and caring community of Rainbow Village, the fictional world of Lila Blue. Annie now lives near her favorite beach in Maui. Please visit www.anniekatz.com to learn more about Annie and her work.

  Also by Annie Katz

  Someplace Warm: A novel about the kindness of fate