by C. S. Dorsey
The girl’s father had left—he had mental issues, so everyone says. I wish I could say that my father had some mental issue, but he was just a butt for leaving. Mom said she came home and my dad was gone. He didn’t give a reason why he left. He will forever be a butt to me. My auntie Tiy could never get a hold on those two. Heaven and Halo—go figure. Hopefully now that they’d moved out my auntie could get her life back.
“Yeah,” my mom said, snapping me back to reality. “Heaven and Halo are something else. They were the reason Tiy never came around when we had family functions. She knew she couldn’t control them, so she stayed away.” I shook my head. I felt so sorry for my auntie.
“How is Uncle Tyler?”
“He is doing great. His business is going national now, so he is doing fantastic,” she said. He was the brilliant one in the family. Uncle Tyler invented some software that cleans and restores your computer’s memory without having to buy a new memory card.
“Cool,” I said. I have no idea how he came up with that, but he makes so much money he could buy his own island.
“Yeah, Uncle Tyler is doing very well,” my mom said as she opened the oven door to check the cornbread and cobbler. The oven was so hot I could feel the heat from where I was sitting. The patio door was open, which didn’t help much because it was the same temperature outside as it was in the oven. I had on blue jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt on. The fabric of the shirt was thin, but I was still hot.
My mom and I talked for a while. And then the door bell rang. “Oh!” My mom jumped up. “That’s Mark.” I look at her as if she had lost her mind. Who cares? I felt like saying. She was acting like a teenager going on her first date, hoping they would hold hands. Back in the day, holding hands was like French kissing, without the sharing of saliva.
She took off her apron and placed it on the chair. She started fixing her hair and clothes, as if the president of the United States was at the door. I got up out of the chair I was sitting in.
“Ma, I’ll get the door,” I said, so she could calm her nerves.
“Oh, honey, it’s just that I want to make sure everything is perfect for your first meeting with each other.”
I narrowed my eyes and said, “I’m sure everything will be fine.” My mom had this big smile on her face and it made me upset but hey, she was happy.
When I walked to the door, I took a glance around the living room. Everything was earth-tone, like my mother liked it. I was surprised that she didn’t have sunflowers as the theme in here, too. But my mom left her obsession with sunflowers outside of the house. I looked around quickly, and noticed the baby pictures of me. I wondered why she never had pictures of Misty up. I reminded myself to ask her about it later.
As I opened the door, the golden cat ran back into the house, and went off into the kitchen. I opened the door wider, and there he was, Mr. Mark. He had blue eyes, blond hair, a slightly tanned complexion, and a smile that made me have Fourth of July fireworks in my eyes, too. He wore a white shirt with dark blue jeans and some white tennis shoes. I noticed that I was staring at him and came back to my senses.
“You must be Mark,” I said, and gave him a fake smile.
“Yes, I am,” he said. “And you are Sissy, right?”
“Yes.”
He had flowers in his left hand, and he held out his right hand for a handshake. I didn’t want to touch him, because my mother was so happy, and he was the reason for it, and I didn’t want to take my mother’s happiness away from her. I could only imagine how devastated she would be—her little world would be crushed if he wasn’t in it.
He held out his hand for the longest time, and I just opened the door wider and gestured for him to come in.
“Roses,” I said as I closed the door behind him. “My mother loves sunflowers,” I said, as if he didn’t already know that.
“Yes, I know,” he said. “These are for you.”
“Oh, thank you,” I flushed in embarrassment. I grabbed the flowers and smelled them. “Mmm!” I said. “They are fresh.”
“Yes,” he said. “I have a garden in my backyard and I grow them.” No wonder my mom was madly in love with him. They must talk about flowers all day.
“Oh, that’s great,” I said.
He flashed a nervous smile at me. I knew he had to have been in his late thirties or early forties, but he looked younger than that.
“Oh, great, you two have met,” my mom said as she came from the kitchen.
“Hey, honey,” Mark said to my mom and gave her a big hug and kiss on the lips. Red flames came off the top of my head when I saw those two kiss.
“Hey, Mark, you want to watch TV until dinner is ready?” I said, trying to break the ice.
“Um, no, actually I would rather watch your mother cook. I love her cooking, and I love watching her make it as well.” My mom had this schoolgirl look in her eyes when she heard him say that. She tucked herself under his arms and he squeezed her tight, giving her a kiss on her forehead. Mr. Mark was much taller than mom. He looked to be about 5’8, but everyone is taller than her. She was only 5’1.
That was it. I could not take it anymore. “OK, what the hell is going on here?” I said, slamming the flowers down on the couch.
“Sissy!” my mother said, surprised. “You watch your mouth, young lady.”
“What is up with you two? Who are you, Mark? And what is your motivation behind my mother?”
“Young lady, I will not have you disrespect my company like that,” my mom said.
Mark just held his hand up and calmly said “Tina, it’s OK.” I was suspicious of him; I don’t know why. Maybe it was the way they touched and held each other, which made me remember I would never be able to touch or feel someone the same way. “I know you’re a little upset that your mother did not mention me,” Mark said.
“Well, yeah!” I said, waiting for him to come up with something quick.
“The truth is, your mother did not want to say anything, because she was so worried about you. She did not want to take the focus off of you, and onto us. I love your mother so much that I was willing to wait and to tell you about us when you came home. We put our plans aside until you are OK with it.”
“What plans?” I said, listening to the words that this stranger was saying.
“Our plans to get married.”
I was sick. I couldn’t move. My eyes fell to the floor, and it felt like I fell with them. I’d lost my sister, now I was losing my mother. It felt like the room was spinning in circles, and I couldn’t breathe.
“Honey, honey, are you OK?” my mother asked in a panic as she touched me on my cheeks to make sure I was OK. My body went stiff for a minute, but it seemed like fifteen.
“Sissy,” my mom said, shaking my face. I was losing it. I turned around and opened the front door. I had to get some air. I walked out the door without closing it.
“Sissy! Sissy!” I heard my mom fade away. I could hear my mom’s sobbing cries.
I walked and walked. I didn’t know where I was going, I just walked. I had to clear my mind. I felt like I was losing too much, like I was alone in the world and no one understood me. How could she do this to me, knowing how much I need her? I needed my mom more than anything. She was my world, even though I didn’t show it to her. I thought, If only I could let her in my life more, maybe she wouldn’t crave attention or feel the need to be wanted.
I found myself wandering around the Emeryville Amtrak station. I walked along the train tracks, kicking the rocks. I was being a selfish brat. I should be happy for my mother—this was her time to be happy for once, and who was I to say otherwise? I kept walking. After about five minutes of walking, I came to Berkeley Aquatic Park, where Misty had disappeared. Everything from that day felt so vague, because I was so young when it happened.
I saw an empty bench in front of the small lake. Looking around, I saw two men in fishing outfits in a small white boat. Both of them swung their fishing rods back and forth. One of them caugh
t something, but when he reeled it in, it turned out to be an old sweater, covered in mud and algae. The sweater looked like it had been down in the lake for years.
Ew! I said to myself, thinking, It must have been white at one point. I took a closer look at the sweater the man was holding up. It almost looked like the sweater I was wearing when Misty vanished. Naw! I said to myself, shaking off the eerie feeling I was having.
I sat there, not conscious of the time, until suddenly I noticed it was dark. I quickly gathered myself together, and headed back to the house.
On my walk back I thought about all the things I was going to say to my mother and Mark—how I felt about their engagement, how I was afraid I was going to be alone. But most important, I wanted to apologize, to my mother first, and then to Mark.
I didn’t want Mark to think that my mother had a disrespectful child. She’d probably told him about her wonderful daughter, and then he meets me and I act like something that emerged from Pet Cemetery. My mother raised me better than that, and I was going to show her by doing the right thing and handling this like an adult.
When I got to Hollis Street, though, I started to dread going back. I knew I had to face my mom and her new lover and apologize. But I was not good at apologies. Don’t be so stubborn, I said to myself. It will only make matters worse. Before I knew it, I reached my mother’s house. I started walking up the stairs and took two deep breaths.
As I was breathing in, I heard a meow. It was the golden-colored cat. I sat on the porch with him and ran my hand down his thick coat. There was something about cats that made me feel so calm. It is almost like they have a sense of human stress and how to absorb it. I guess that is why they were put on this earth. As I rubbed the cat, whose name I didn’t know, I heard my mom and Mr. Fourth of July talking about me.
“I need to find her, she might be lost.”
“Well, let me help you. Get your purse,” he said.
I continued to rub the cat’s ears and chin; he purred when I rubbed his head. His eyes were so big, and they glowed in the night. Some people might have found it scary, his glowing eyes, but I found them rather mysterious, and fascinating. I continued to give the cat the massage of his life, my mother opened the door, saying, “I don’t know whe—” She stopped dead when she saw me sitting on the porch with the nameless cat.
“Sissy, honey, were you here on the porch the whole time?” I shook my head, not speaking or saying a word. I found myself unable to speak, lost in my thoughts. The cat ran in the house as soon as my mom opened the door, leaving me to explain my behavior by myself. I got up, brushed the cat hair off my clothes and my hands. I turned around to my mom. She had a puzzled look on her face, not knowing what to expect from me. I looked at her and wrapped my arms around her, resting my head on her shoulders. I started crying before I could get any words out.
My mom hugged me tight, and cried, “Honey, please, please talk to me. I need you to say something.” I mustered up some nerves and told her, “I’m losing you.”
Chapter Six
“My perspective of him was totally off—but now, after meeting him, I approved.”
After I cried my eyes out to my mother, I thought it was time for us to talk about what I was feeling inside, without giving too much detail. Not about the horrible visions I was having, but just enough to let her in my strange little world.
“Ma,” I said, drying my eyes. “Ma, we should talk, alone.”
Mark nodded his head in understanding. He walked behind my mom and wrapped his arms around her as if she was his property already, and then he kissed her on the top of her head.
“I will see you tomorrow,” he whispered in her ear. I thought he was going to bite her on her neck, the way he was looking at her. It was like her scent was so intoxicating that he could not resist leaving her.
I shook my head and said, “Mark, no, you don’t have to leave.” I looked at him and then back at my mother, telling her “later” with my eyes.
She caught on quickly, and said to me, “Honey, come get something to eat, it’s been a long day for you with flying and everything.” My mother spoke as if my disrespectful scene had never happened.
It was so like her to just move on. To sweep things under the rug, rather than facing the issue head-on. I nodded and said OK.
When we went into the kitchen and sat down at the table, I noticed neither she nor Mark had eaten since I left. I felt horrible. The roses that I threw on the couch were in a vase sitting in the middle of the table. My guilt was eating my insides and I was sick to my stomach. Food was the last thing I wanted, but I didn’t want to insult her further by not eating.
As we sat at the wooden table with four chairs to match, Mr. Mark sat across from me. He looked like he was reluctant to stay, but I knew he just wanted to make sure that my mother was OK emotionally. I was surprised at how tentative he was with her, how caring, and loving. I was so envious at that moment. Just to be touched softly, without the destruction behind it.
My stomach cringed in a knot. I held back the tears that were forming. It was time to make peace with Mark, since he was going to be my stepfather.
“Uhmm!” I said, clearing my throat from all of the mucus that had built up within the last hour. “I’m—I’m sorry, Mark,” I said in a low whisper. I looked down at the table, fumbling with my fingers. Mark looked at me, and gave me a smile.
“It’s OK,” he said, “I forgive you. I can understand about being the only child and you not wanting to let your mother go. I’ve been where you are now. My mother married my stepfather when I was twelve. I despised him for years. When he and my mom got married, I ran away.” He chuckled to himself. “He was the nicest guy, but I didn’t care. It wasn’t until I got into some trouble when I was fourteen, and I was facing jail time. He came to the court on my behalf, and the DA dropped the charges. I owe that man my life,” he said, swiping his hand through his blond curls.
I sat and listened to him, still twisting my fingers in a nervous way. My mom was fixing our plates, but I knew she was listing to everything he was saying. Her uneasy body language let me know that she was on alert, if and when I attacked her fiancé again.
Mr. Mark continued on with his “understanding” of my overprotective ways with my mother. “So yeah, I completely understand.” I nodded in agreement. My mom served us, like she was a little waitress. She gave Mark his plate, then mine.
We continued talking. He talked about his childhood and growing up. He told me that he had two children, but they are grown like me. His son, John, went to New York State University; he was in his senior year, studying Environmental Engineering. I decided not to ask what that was. It sounded too complicated for my brain in its current state. His daughter Sally, he told me, went to the University of Washington.
“Really?!” I said. “What year is she in?”
“She’s in her junior year.”
A little part of me was excited to know that Mark’s daughter and I went to the same college. I gave a little smile at the thought that Mr. Mark and I had a little something in common.
“You may have run into her.”
“Yeah, probably,” I said, giving a crooked smile. “What is her major?” I asked as I began dig into my greens. My mom, of course, had given me way too much to eat.
“Biochemistry,” he responded, with a smile on his face.
“I can tell you’re proud of your children,” I said, chewing on the greens. My mother had a way of making greens tasty, without the bitter aftertaste. I made a mental note to ask her what her secret was before I left on Monday.
For the next hour, Mark and I talked. I found him to be very interesting. He told me that his first wife had passed away, from cancer. He’d had to raise his children on his own. My perspective of him was totally off—but now, after meeting him, I approved.
After eating almost the whole pan of my mom’s peach cobbler, I felt more relaxed. I’d had a long, interesting day and felt a sudden yawn come over me.
“Oh, honey, it’s getting late,” my mom said, and she rubbed my cheeks like I was a little child trying to fight my sleep, for fear that I would miss something.
“I know,” I said, letting out another yawn.
Mark looked at his watch and got up. “I’m going to head out,” he said as he placed his dirty dish in the soapy dish water.
“OK,” my mom said, with a sad puppy dog look in her eyes. I just smiled.
She walked him to the door, and I followed right behind them on my way to the other room. “Sissy, it was good talking with you. I’m happy you came home. Your mother talks about you so much, I felt like I already knew you before I even met you.”
“I wish I could say the same,” I said, darting my eyes at my mother swiftly. She looked at me, and turned her head toward him with a girlish grin on her face. I just shook my head.
“’Night, Sissy, I’ll see you tomorrow at the party.”
“Oh, yes,” I said, waving at him. I wondered what my Granny thought of Mark, or if she’d even met him. My Granny had a way of reading people. She knew if they had good intentions or bad ones. I couldn’t wait to see what Granny had to say about him.
My mom followed behind him, like a teenager, as they walked out. When the door was closed, I ran to the front window and peeked through the blinds. I tried to hide my shadow from the light, but it didn’t help that the light in the living room was a three hundred watt bulb. That sucker could light up the whole world, it was just that bright.
I peeked through the window. My mom and Mr. Mark were up against his blue Chevy Tahoe with silver trim. “Nice ride,” I said to myself. There for a minute I thought I saw them kissing… Naw, I thought to myself. My mother isn’t like that, she is a good woman, and knows her—and then sure enough, there they were…kissing outside in the dark.
I could not believe my eyes. My stomach started to turn from the food I’d just eaten. I quickly left the window and ran to the bedroom to change.