Her lips quirked in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t believe in God?”
“I don’t know about that, but I do know that growing up Mormon is the safest thing I’ve seen for kids.”
“God does exist, Rikki, and the proof is all around if you open your eyes.” She crossed to the door. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”
I nodded, but she couldn’t see me, so I wasn’t surprised when she looked around at my face to check my expression. Whatever she saw made her brow furrow.
I watched her drive away with her daughters. I wanted to hate her, but her largeness of spirit prevented that. She’d given me exactly what I needed, though she couldn’t possibly know I’d needed it. I hadn’t known it myself. Much as I dreaded coming here, I felt a belonging I couldn’t deny. I didn’t know if it was Mormonism, or the people, or Dante, or even Becca, but I was supposed to be here—and not only because there was no place left to go.
Or maybe home was simply where you landed when you reached the end of the line.
Chapter Nine
Kyle
I knew Allia had only come because of her mother. I wanted to hate her for that, but she was so nice that I couldn’t find anything really to hate her for. She didn’t laugh at my band pictures that I tacked to the wall after we’d run a wet rag over them, or tell me my shorts and halter top were inappropriate, though I could tell from how her eyes widened that she didn’t approve. She admired my new hand-me-downs in the box and agreed that the plaid dress would make a better skirt.
“You could cut off the trim on the sleeves and make a scrunchy,” she said. “We learned how in Mutual.”
“Mutual?”
“That’s where we teenagers meet at the church to do activities during the week. It’s a lot of fun. You should come. We aren’t having it this week because of school starting, but next week we’re doing baptisms for the dead, and the week after that we’re going to Sister Flemming’s to learn how to make her special chili and bread sticks. It’s on Tuesdays.”
“Cooking?” I grimaced, deciding not to get into how weird being baptized for dead people was. One of the teachers had explained the process on Sunday, but the only thing I really understood was that it wasn’t something I could do since I wasn’t a member of their church. Fine by me. “You think that’s fun?”
“I love Mutual. It’s always fun. We end up laughing a lot. I like learning about cooking because then Mom lets me do it at home.”
“My mom doesn’t cook much. She’s mostly working.” Or sleeping, but I didn’t want to say that. Mom seemed more and more depressed lately, and I wasn’t sure what was wrong. At first I thought it was because she’d broken up with Tony, her last boyfriend, but he was kind of a creep, so I was glad he was gone. The only reason I hadn’t run away to live with my friends instead of coming here to Utah was because I was worried about who would take care of James and Mom.
“Well, you could cook. I have a lot of easy recipes. You can copy them.”
There she was being nice again. I wanted to say something to hurt her, to let her know I knew she was fake, but I didn’t want to make her angry. After all, if I pretended to like her, I might get to see more of her brother, Travis. “Thanks,” I said. “Good idea.”
“Want me to show you how to make a scrunchy? If you have some scissors and thread and a little elastic, it’ll only take a minute on a sewing machine.”
“We don’t have any elastic or a sewing machine.”
“Well, I can make one and bring it to you later, if you want.”
“Sure.” I went upstairs, and after a bit of a search, returned with a pair of scissors. With decisive movements, she cut out several rectangles from the trim on the sleeves and stuffed them in her pocket. “I’ll give it to you on Sunday, okay?”
“Okay.” I wondered if I’d ever see it. Not that I really cared all that much.
Allia busied herself with sweeping away the spider webs in what I planned to make my dance studio in the basement while I unpacked some of my special boxes. One held my dance clothes—leotards and tights of many colors. Another box held my shoes—jazz, ballet, tap. I kept everything related to dancing, even the clothes and shoes I’d outgrown. Mom hadn’t always been able to afford dancing lessons, but I practiced on my own when she couldn’t. I’d sometimes show up at dance lessons even when I wasn’t enrolled so I could watch and practice the moves at home alone. I hoped I was doing them right.
Another box held videotapes of dance performances, either from our recitals or the television or the recitals of friends and their siblings. I watched them only when I was alone.
Other boxes held my clothes, even some favorite outgrown ones, knickknacks, old toys. I saved everything. I would keep the old clothes and toys in the box in my closet; it was enough to know they were there. I’d given James a few things that weren’t only for girls, but knowing the rest were there comforted me.
Another box held cake mixes and cans of food I’d swiped from friends’ houses. Those too would go into the closet for a rainy day. Another small box hid several albums of pictures that my mother would laugh about if she knew I had them. She didn’t believe in pictures. But I did. I loved remembering the people we left behind. I didn’t care that they’d moved on or were different. I wanted to remember them exactly as they had been.
I had a picture of my dad and James’s, too, which I would show him one day. I even had an old one of Mom and her friend Dante. I’d found it in the garbage years ago when we’d been packing for another move. I hadn’t been more than James’s age. I didn’t know where the photo came from but figured Mom had found it in a junk drawer somewhere and tossed it. If I squinted my eyes a bit, it could almost be me and Travis in the picture, and I was glad I’d saved it.
“What’s that?” Allia had come into the room, and I stifled the urge to slam the album shut and throw it under my bed.
“My mom and your dad, I think.”
She sat down on the floor beside me. “Wow. That was a long time ago. Do you think they were in love?”
I shrugged. “Mom says they were friends.”
“That’s weird.”
“I know. Now he’s a pastor.”
“Bishop.”
“Whatever.”
“So, you aren’t a Mormon?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You weren’t baptized?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Interesting.” She had a gleam in her eye that made me uncomfortable.
“Look,” I said, “don’t tell my mom about the picture. She doesn’t like pictures.”
“Okay. She looks a lot like you.”
“I guess.” I thought she looked rather pale and lifeless, and I hoped I didn’t look a thing like her.
“She’s really pretty. Look at her smile.” Allia moved to get a better view of my face. “Yep, you look like her. Well, you would without the makeup.”
She said it casually, but I chose to pick a fight. “What’s wrong with my makeup?”
“I was just saying you’d look more like your mom without it, that’s all.”
“I need to wear more than you do since I’m so pale.”
She nodded. “Can I see the other pictures?”
I started turning the pages, telling Allia about my old friends and other people I’d known. It felt good to tell someone.
“You’ve been to a lot of interesting places,” Allia said. “That’s really cool. Oh, look, here’s your little brother. He’s adorable.” Her finger traced the words under the photo. “His name is Dante James?”
“Yeah. Dante James Crockett. I’ve never even heard the name Dante before, except for my brother.”
“My dad’s Dante, too. My mom says he was named for an Italian poet from the Middl
e Ages, but Dad jokes about it coming from a character in a science fiction series. Mom said the movies weren’t out when he was born, so that means Dad’s wrong. It’s weird, though, because the character also has a son named Travis. I’ve never seen the shows, but it’s pretty funny how my parents joke about it.”
“That is weird,” I said. “But not as weird as your dad having the same name as my brother.” In fact, it was so weird we stopped to think about it for a minute. “They must have been really good friends,” I said finally. “Anyway, we’ve never called James anything but James.”
Allia’s mother called us up to eat, and Allia jumped to her feet before I could object. “Mom’s taking me school shopping this afternoon. I’d better get up there.”
“Do you always go running right when your mom calls?”
Allia blinked. “Why not? I like my mom.”
“I like my mom, too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need my space.”
“I don’t need any space on shopping days.” She laughed and I did, too, as I followed her up the stairs.
* * *
Mom and I’d been to two second-hand clothing stores, and already I was sick of the smell of other people’s clothes. It had never bothered me before, but today it made me depressed. Maybe it was because Mom kept overruling my choices when she’d never put her nose in my business before.
“What’s up with you?” I asked as she put back a miniskirt.
“You already have one of those. Remember the one you wore to church on Sunday? Look, it’s going to be a lot colder here in the winter, and we need to buy things that will last all year long.”
“You sure you’re not just trying to get me to look like Allia?” I was making a jab, but the way she hesitated made me suspicious. “This is all because of your friend Dante, isn’t it? You’re so pathetic. He’s married now, you know.”
Her eyes turned icy, and the coldness in them made my stomach hurt. “I have no designs on Dante, not in the way you’re meaning. He’s a friend and a spiritual leader, that’s all.”
I snorted. “Since when are we spiritual?”
“You need guidance, Kyle, just like I did at your age.”
“You think those old women and your old boyfriend can give that to me? You’re so lame. You never used to be this way.” I would have added a couple of cusswords to emphasize my point, but I didn’t want to freak her out anymore. She looked so frail at the moment, an old lady, not like my mom at all. The pain in my stomach cranked up a notch.
“Are you finished behaving like a two-year-old? Look, there’s a lot of things I did wrong in my life, and I don’t want you to make the same mistakes. I want you to have an education, something to fall back on.”
“I’m going to be a dancer!”
“That’s fine. As soon as I get a paycheck, I’ll enroll you again, but only if you don’t sluff school and you keep your grades up.”
I glared at her. “I don’t know who you are anymore. My mistakes are mine to make. You always said that’s how you learn.”
“I was wrong.”
That stopped the other words in my throat. Oh, I knew logically that my mother wasn’t perfect, but she’d always taken care of us. Maybe not like other mothers who were home more or who had normal jobs, but even when there was no money and things were crazy, she acted like she knew exactly what she was doing, like there was some plan in the end that she’d always been able to see. Take that box of clothes she’d pulled out of nowhere this morning. She made things work. But to have her admit now that she was wrong make me feel afraid. It made me wonder what was making her cry in the night when she thought no one else could hear.
I turned away. “Can we go somewhere else? Wal-Mart, maybe? Can we afford at least one thing someone else hasn’t already worn?”
I could tell I’d hurt her with that comment, but I didn’t care. I was too afraid she didn’t know what she was doing. For all I knew, we were drowning and I was too stupid to know.
“Okay,” she said quietly.
I felt James watching me as we walked to the car. Not accusing but wounded, like a puppy someone had kicked. I hated myself a bit more.
We drove to Wal-Mart in silence, and I wondered how she knew where the store was. Maybe that was where she’d bought the groceries that morning.
“Mom, can we go see the fish?” James asked.
She glanced at me, and I shrugged. It felt weird knowing that if I threw a fit, she’d make him come with me instead. Powerful but in an ugly way. “I’ll be looking at the clothes.”
The smell was better here, but there were a lot of people. Everyone trying to find last-minute items for school. I’d found a pair of jeans and a pair of boots at one of the used clothing stores, and what I really wanted were some warm tops. With Mom harping about the cold, I needed to be prepared. Maybe I’d be better off buying a jacket, but I didn’t think we had the money for that, unless it was used. I sighed and headed to the girls’ department. I was still small enough to fit into most fourteens and even some twelves there, and they tended to be less expensive and more abundant than the size zeros in women’s. The problem was finding something without a cartoon figure on it. I didn’t want to look like I was James’s age.
My brother hadn’t asked for clothes, and I figured he really didn’t care. He’d wear the same pair of pants all week when Mom wasn’t paying attention. Sometimes even when she was. Mom wasn’t too picky about things like that. As long as they didn’t stink or have a noticeable stain, clothes simply weren’t dirty in Mom’s book. I guess it made clothes last longer. She still wore clothes I remembered from ten years ago.
The color caught my eye before anything else about the T-shirt. It was that special blue that was somewhere between aqua and the color of the summer sky. Long sleeves and a cool wavy design in white swirled with black. I knew from the cut it would hug my waist and make a lot of girls envious. I picked it up and looked at the price tag. Thirty bucks? How could they want so much for a simple T-shirt? Oh, it came with a sweet silver necklace and a nice pair of jeans. Jeans with several artfully arranged holes in the legs. Frayed ends. These would look awesome with the new boots.
I wondered if Mom had the money. It wasn’t an awful lot, but I’d already spent ten dollars that morning, and she hadn’t started her job yet. She probably wouldn’t be able to buy the sweaters she kept harping about.
At least I could try it on. I edged down an aisle where brightly colored underwear in a package beckoned to me. I needed those desperately, so I grabbed my size. I gathered a few more shirts and a couple jeans and headed to try everything on, folding the blue shirt under the rest to hide it.
“How many?” asked the lady when it was my turn.
I made a show of counting. “Six.”
“You can’t try on the underwear.”
“Oh, I won’t.”
“Just leave it out here, then.”
I went in a little irritated, but at least she hadn’t counted my items. Once in the privacy of the little dressing room, I was amazed to see that the jeans and the blue shirt fit even better than I’d hoped. Awesome. One of the other shirts for five bucks wasn’t bad either.
I stared at myself in the mirror with determination. Mom wouldn’t buy it all, but there was more than one way to make it mine. I was wearing shorts, and there was no hope of hiding anything there, but I’d thrown a baggy T-shirt over my halter just in case everyone in Utah stared at me the way Allia had. Now I was grateful.
Carefully, I folded the blue shirt into the jeans and wrapped them around my lower waist. The elastic in the shorts held them well enough, if I didn’t move too suddenly. I gathered the excess of my T-shirt and tied it in a knot. I looked fatter than a few minutes ago, but I didn’t think anyone would notice. It took what seemed like forever to arrange all the other clothing on hangers and hide t
he hangers to the blue shirt and jeans inside the leg of the other jeans.
The lady didn’t look at me when I exited. “You can leave them here if you don’t want them,” she said.
“That’s okay. I do.” I swooped up the underwear and headed back to the girls’ department, where I dropped them off at the first opportunity, except for the five-buck shirt. The hangers inside the pant leg fell out, but no one seemed to notice. I kicked them under the hanging clothes. I was a little uncomfortable when the clothes under my shirt slipped a bit, but by clamping one arm to my side, I felt better.
“There you are,” my mom said. “Find anything?”
James held up a bag. “Look, I got a goldfish. Mom says I can use a big pickle jar to keep him in. Isn’t he great? I think I’m going to call him Goldy.”
“Wow, looks more like a Fred to me.”
James laughed. “Okay, Fred Goldy.”
Sometimes it’s sad how much he worshipped me.
“Is this the top you want?” Mom asked, her eyes going to the price tag. “It’s not very warm, is it? What about this sweater?”
Miracles of miracles, she pointed to a long tan sweater with a big button in front that actually looked cool. My friends always said my mother had good taste. Maybe they weren’t that wrong.
“It’s twelve dollars, but you could wear it with all the T-shirts you already have, right?” Mom said.
That’s not how it worked. If you wore a sweater one day, you couldn’t wear it again until the next week, unless you weren’t going to see any of those kids. But she didn’t need to know that. “Right. Okay, let’s get it.”
“I think that will have to be it for now,” Mom said. “I have to get James a pair of jeans. He only has one that still fits. I can cut off two for shorts, but the others we’ll have to get rid of.”
I nodded. “That’s fine. I don’t need any more.” I didn’t care what happened once the blue shirt and jeans were mine.
Before I Say Goodbye Page 8