This Would Make a Good Story Someday

by Dana Alison Levy

  Mom looked like she wanted to stay and argue with Laurel, saying that if the only thing the kids were going to see was a children’s museum, what was the point of traveling, but Mimi did her let’s-reframe-this! thing and talked about the virtues of “a walkable city to experience as a family,” and Mom laughed and hugged her, and they decided that the three of them could go to the children’s museum while Root, Laurel, and I stayed here. Then Mom and Laurel hugged and acted like everything was normal, but I could tell Laurel was still slightly Hulk-ish.

  Of course, before they left, Ladybug posed Bruce on one of the spinning diner counter chairs and took a photo. Can a Roman centurion be a civil rights activist? Why not, I guess?

  After they left, Root, Laurel, and I walked around, looking over the exhibits. There’s a video about the four college students who first sat down at the lunch counter in protest. They look pretty close to Laurel’s age, and all they did was to sit down and politely ask to be served. It doesn’t seem like a big deal—they’re nicely dressed and sitting quietly in the photos—but I know it was.

  I turned to Laurel.

  “They must have been so mad that people were such jerks to them. I mean, look at them! They’re just sitting there, all polite and normal! The world was so messed up.”

  Laurel ran her hands through her short hair, staring at the photos of the Greensboro Four. “They might have been mad. But they were probably scared. Like, pee-their-pants-level scared. It’s easy to look at history and think that they knew right was on their side, but at the time a lot of people thought they were crazy. And they were black, which meant that people could spit on them, hit them, hurt them, and not get in trouble. Other people watching the violence would just cheer.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  I patted her back, which, admittedly, was pretty sweaty after our walk to the museum. Laurel has always been emotional. Not like Saanvi, who swoons and nearly faints and shrieks with laughter and so on. But…well, Mimi says Laurel has big feelings that need a way out. If Laurel thinks someone is suffering, or if something is unfair, she literally can’t stand it. For example, Laurel once refused to go to school for over a week because her teacher had punished this boy Andrew, a really annoying kid who got on everyone’s nerves. He wasn’t even a friend of Laurel’s or anything, but the thing was, he hadn’t done whatever he got in trouble for, and she tried to stand up for him but wound up getting punished too. She was told she had to apologize to the teacher for yelling, and of course that was not going to happen. Instead she screamed and tore up her room, saying over and over that it just wasn’t fair, until after a week Mom marched into the school and had a closed-door conference with the principal. Laurel went back to school without apologizing, but the next year she transferred to a small alternative school where she called her teachers by their first names and built yurts in the back field.

  Anyway, seeing her crying at the civil rights museum wasn’t all that surprising, but still, I felt bad.

  “It’s okay, Lo-Lo,” I said, trying inconspicuously to wipe my damp hand on my shorts. “Things have gotten way better, right?”

  She shrugged. “Have they?”

  I stared at her. “We have an African American president! And segregation is illegal! And—”

  She waved an impatient hand. “Of course that all matters. But, Sara, do you have any idea how unfair this country still is? Let me give you one example. You know how Root and I got arrested in May? For protesting the Arctic drilling? Well, my friend Ola was with us. And she’s African American. And when we were all arrested, along with over a hundred other people, most of us were released immediately. But not Ola…She and four others were hurt pretty badly and kept in jail way longer than the rest of us. And all five of them were brown or black.”

  I didn’t really know what to say. I just looked at the old photos on the walls, photos from history but from not that long ago.

  Laurel sighed. “People thought that civil rights protesters were nuts, you know? That they were total idiots trying to change something that would never ever change. Even people who agreed in theory didn’t think the protests would make a difference. They warned protesters not to bother, not to risk themselves on a lost cause.”

  I nodded, though I wasn’t really sure what her point was. But she kept talking.

  “And now, when we chain ourselves to the oil tankers or block the bridges, people think we’re nuts. Heck, Mom thinks we’re nuts! I mean, seriously, if an educated social activist like her doesn’t support what we do, how do you think the rest of the world reacts? You can’t imagine how many times someone has said to me, ‘Look, I appreciate what you’re doing, but big corporations and the government are never going to change.’ But they do change, Sara! People do cause seemingly immovable mountains like segregation to crumble! And if we know that—if it’s been proven again and again—well, how can we not keep trying? Who’s going to tell us? Who’s going to say this cause is worth fighting for, but that one…well, don’t bother. Who can know that?”

  By this point Laurel was almost yelling, and a few old men in suits nearby started nodding their heads.

  “Preach it, sister!” one of them said, and the other banged his cane on the floor, kind of like applause. An old woman walking nearby nodded and said “Uh-HUH” as she passed.

  Laurel took a breath and gave me a smile, but it was a watery one. “Well, anyway, you get my point,” she said, and I admit, I was relieved that she lowered her voice a bit. Still, I put my arm around her. I love my sister, sweaty or not.

  I wonder what it would feel like to be Laurel, so brave all the time. Even if I do every single thing on my Reinvention Project list (and who are we kidding, I won’t be learning to surf anytime soon), I don’t think I’ll ever be as fearless as her. She blogs about this stuff sometimes, and every time I read it, I wonder how it feels to be so sure about things. I wish I were more like that.

  Before we left the museum, I got a picture book at the gift shop about the four students who started the sit-in…nonfiction, of course! And I can read it to Ladybug. It’s pretty fascinating. I know some of the stuff, but being down here and seeing everything with my own eyes makes it much more real. And scarier.

  Fun Fact!

  Spartanburg, South Carolina, is where American forces defeated the British in a pivotal skirmish in the Revolutionary War. The victory was dependent on a local young woman, Kate Barry, who warned American troops of the British advance. (Huh! So there’s a Southern female Paul Revere! Who knew?)

  Fun Fact!

  Notable figures associated with Greenville, SC, include Wayne Oates, the psychologist who came up with the phrase “workaholic.”

  Not-So-Fun Fact!

  Mimi seems intent on redefining the term “workaholic” while trapped on a train with the rest of her family. Not sure how well the writing is going based on the amount of time she’s been staring at her computer without touching the keys.

  We’re back on the train. At least this time we didn’t wake everyone else by thinking Darrell was a criminal. Instead of Darrell we have Raymond as our sleep compartment attendant. Raymond is older than Darrell and bald under his cap. He said he’s been working on this train since the days when dinosaurs would fall asleep on the tracks and the conductor would have to stop the train to wake them up. He also insisted on having his photo taken with Bruce. I like him.

  So to recap, Greensboro was pretty cool, especially the museum and the food. The nice woman at the hotel was still there at dinner last night, and she insisted on serving up a “proper feed,” an expression that was slightly terrifying, given what she called a “little bite” at breakfast. The fried chicken was amazing, and she even did a batch in cornmeal so Ladybug could eat it. Root said he was vegetarian, so she brought out a huge mess of mushy green (turns out they’re called collard greens, and honestly, they tasted more like bacon than vegetables, but I didn’t bother pointing that out to Root) and some beans and other stuff. By the time we stumbled up to our roo
ms at eight o’clock, we were all exhausted and went to sleep. I was sharing a bed with Ladybug.

  This was how our bedtime routine went:

  SARA:

  Good night, Ladybug Li! Sweet dreams! (tries to roll over and go to sleep)

  LADYBUG:

  GOOD NIGHT, WOOFY DOG! GOOD NIGHT! (flings arms around me and squeezes)

  MOM:

  (from the other bed) Li-Li, sweets, let go of Sara. Time to sleep.

  LADYBUG:

  Woofy Dog needs to sleep in a puppy bed! Here! (starts building a nest on the floor with the pillows, including the one from under my head)

  MOM:

  No, love. Sara is going to sleep in the bed with you.

  LADYBUG:

  NO PUPPIES IN THE BED!

  SARA:

  (pulling pillow back up) Lucky puppies get to sleep in the bed with their owners. And I’m a lucky puppy. Good night!

  LADYBUG:

  (pauses, then) Lucky puppy? That’s your new name! LUCKY PUPPY! Good night, Lucky Puppy!

  MIMI:

  (snort-laughing) Sleep well, Lucky Puppy. We love you.

  SARA:

  (pretends to be asleep, even though the light is still on and Ladybug is making Bruce blow me kisses good night)

  Anyway, it was good we went to sleep so early, because waking up before 4:00 a.m. again was brutal. Mom clutched her coffee with both hands like she was afraid someone would take it from her, and even Root, who is generally overly cheerful at all hours, looked a little pale. He said his stomach had been upset all night. Maybe I should have mentioned my bacon-in-the-veggies theory. Oh well.

  Adding to the misery was the fact that Travis the Texan was still grinning like I’m the funniest thing in the world. I hate being laughed at. Even if it did turn out I had one of Ladybug’s stuffed cats in the hood of my jacket. He looked like he was going to say something, but I stomped off before he could. Personally, I think anyone who tries to start up a conversation at four o’clock in the morning to make fun of a person should be slapped with a flounder. (And in case you’re wondering, yes, I do know what it feels like to be slapped with a slimy bottom-feeding fish. Ask Laurel about the fight we had when she was in sixth grade.)

  I just finished my yoga practice. I managed to get into pigeon pose without a horrible foot cramp this time, so that’s good! I feel calmer already. I’m totally going to be mindful and centered by the time we’re back in Shipton.

  Mimi and Mom came back from the café car with more coffee. It smells divine. I need to carpe diem and try a cup. It’s a small goal of the Reinvention Project…learn to drink coffee. I’m freakishly tall—it’s not like anyone has to worry that it will stunt my growth. And if I want to be a writer, I’ll need to start my unhealthy dependence on it soon. Plus, I’m sorry, but casually drinking coffee just looks cool.

  WHAT MADNESS IS THIS? How do people drink this stuff? It’s like drinking Satan’s tears. Good Lord. Any mindfulness I got from yoga is totally gone. My eyes won’t stop watering.

  Lots of time spent watching the world whiz by the window. We’re on our way to Atlanta, due there sometime after noon. Outside the train are old run-down towns and endless fields, green and brown and green and brown moving in a blur. Sometimes we fly past tiny stations with nobody at them, just empty platforms that almost look like they’re shimmering in the heat.

  I’m not sure how this is what Mimi called an incredible opportunity for our family to reconnect. She caved after breakfast and let Ladybug watch a movie on her iPad, and Mom has been wearing her noise-canceling headphones and scribbling notes on some legal brief since the minute the train pulled out of the station. Laurel and Root are napping, and I’m writing in this stupid journal. We are about as disconnected as people can get when they are trapped in a steel box together.

  Watching a movie with Ladybug. She’s supposed to be watching PBS, but I hacked the movie-streaming site and we’re now watching contraband Disney. Why are all the princesses such bobbleheads?? They look like lollipops. We’re moving on from the bobbleheads and trying an animal movie. It has to be better than the dancing candlesticks. Though I admit I really kind of love that library. Ladybug’s been adding Bruce into the dance scenes, which is pretty awesome.

  Ladybug has, by my guess, taken roughly a thousand photos a day of Bruce. She says she wants to take a million photos of him and make a poster for school. That is going to be one big poster. Mom and Mimi gave her an old digital camera (okay, my old camera, complete with unicorn stickers), and she carries it everywhere. The click-click-click is constant. It’s like having a mini member of the paparazzi in the train compartment with us, with Bruce as the world’s tiniest media star.

  OMG, the dad lion totally DIES in The Lion King. Are you kidding me? Ladybug and I are watching, and I’m thinking there’s no way….There’s going to be some last-minute save, and she turns around and says (in a very cheery voice, I might add), “Mufasa DIES. Zachary at school told me.” And now I’m sitting here trying not to blub. But seriously? What kind of sadist makes movies for kids where the parents die? I don’t even know what to say. Maybe there’s a good reason our moms never let us watch Disney.

  I’ll have to email my dad and ask him if he’s ever seen these Disney tearjerkers. He loves movies, maybe because there’s not that much else to do in Alaska. He’s a doctor there. I barely ever see him, but we email and call a lot. And yes, before Mom met Mimi, she was married to my dad. They had two kids, me and Laurel, before Mom realized shortly after I was born that, as she puts it, she “would always love Dad for being a wonderful person but in my true heart, I knew I did not belong with him because I realized I was a Lesbian.” The way she says it, you can see the capital L. (Saanvi would cringe, for sure.) Honestly, it’s not like I asked for the play-by-play.

  Anyway, Mom and Mimi have been together since I was around two, so Mimi’s always been my other mom. I don’t really think about it much, except when, like now, we’re somewhere totally new. Then I realize all over again that people notice us. I mean, we stick out for a lot of reasons: two moms, a Chinese sister, Laurel’s pierced tongue and nose—plus don’t forget that Ladybug is ALL CAPS LOUD, and Root is forever wandering over to peer into garbage pails and mumble about commercial compost. So having my moms get all kissy-face in public is just another embarrassing moment. Gag. (Vi says nobody’s parents should be kissing in public, whether or not they’re gay, and she may have a point.)

  Laurel took Mimi’s arrival in our lives pretty hard for a while….She actually lived in Alaska with our dad for a year. But then she decided she didn’t really like having moose in the playground and a 3:30 sunset in winter, and came home. Now she gets along better with Mimi than she does with Mom. Anyway, Mimi didn’t have any other kids, though she obviously raised us, but when I was around seven, they decided to “have another child together,” which, it turned out, meant adopting Ladybug.

  I love my little sister very much, but I’m going to say, things didn’t exactly get calmer and quieter when she arrived. (In case you didn’t recognize it, that’s called an “understatement.” It’s the opposite of hyperbole, which is when a writer wildly overstates things. If I were using hyperbole, I would say that having Ladybug in the house is like inviting a three-ring carnival complete with elephant and dancing bear and a team of Russian trapeze artists to move into the tiny bedroom next door. But that’s not even major hyperbole.)

  All this to say I have two mothers and a father in Alaska, and if I had the choice right now, I might take Alaska. Even with the moose.

  Fun Fact!

  Gainesville, Georgia, is called the Poultry Capital of the World because of the large number of poultry-processing plants.

  Not-So-Fun Fact!

  Root and Laurel have entered into a spirited discussion on the mistreatment of animals at large-scale animal farming operations.

  LAUREL:

  Of course I think factory farms are needlessly cruel and bad for the planet, but there needs t
o be a plan for keeping food costs low enough to feed the average American, and not everyone can afford to eat fancy organic chickens!

  ROOT:

  Nobody should be eating chickens! Then we wouldn’t have this problem! They are sentient beings, and if we could rid ourselves of a meat economy, we could feed the world, heal the planet, and—

  LAUREL:

  Of course in a perfect world nobody would be eating chickens in the first place, but that’s impractical and not a good starting place, since we aren’t about to outlaw meat anytime soon. Plus chicken tastes good.

  ROOT:

  (wordlessly makes a kind of yowling yelping sound of frustration)

  LAUREL:

  (sticks out her tongue at Root)

  At this point Raymond the Train Guy stuck his head in the open door to see what all the yelling was about.

  Laurel and Root have agreed to disagree. Raymond gave Mimi his business card so she can interview him about life on the trains. He also took one more photo with Bruce and Ladybug. Ladybug is wearing his train hat. Good grief.

  OH, GIVE ME A BREAK. This was on my seat when I came back from the café car. Perfect. Now he’s making fun of my writing.

  Fun Fact!

  The core of Atlanta was burned to the ground by Union General Sherman as part of his march to the sea in the Civil War. (Okay, that’s really not what I’d call fun. I mean, burning a city to the ground, even if it belongs to the enemy, seems a bit extreme.)

  I guess the fact that Atlanta was burned down explains why everything looks so new. I mean, there are huge skyscrapers in New York, and even in Boston, but there are also old stone and brick buildings and giant trees and stuff. Here everything looks shiny and modern. Even the subway, called the MARTA, is bright and fancy. So far we’ve been touring the city, checking out the “top family-friendly tourist attractions” that Mimi wants to include in her book. The first one was…wait for it: