While pondering a geometric equation,
my eye catches the salon sign.
I stand up, pronounce that it’s my time for a new look.
April:For reals?
I nod.
Gavin:Oh holy night! This girl’s gonna look hot!
On the escalator to the salon, we pass
Party Betty weighed down with bags.
She waves, says
she heard I dumped Hef,
gives me a thumbs-up as we pass.
One going up,
the other going down
until she reaches the top.
Betty:He did it to all of us.
You were just the strongest!
She holds up her bags
like that’s her best way to cope.
Before I can say anything
Gavin grabs my arm,
pulls me into the salon.
Two hours later, I walk out
happily highlighted
and ponytail free.
A new look
a new me
and I
quite like it.
Election Night
Dad’s ahead in the polls, but behind
getting ready for his big night.
Jane leans against the stairs, in pain
holding her head all night.
Melanie hops on my back, excited
about babysitter night.
Jane notices my new hair, says it’s pretty.
I tuck a strand behind my ear, about to ignore
her compliment, but thank her instead.
Dad changes into a perfectly pressed shirt,
shined shoes, sleek suit.
All of his supporters await news
Henderson for the people!
Melanie and I paint stones
eat dinner
watch TV
wait to see the election results.
I deliver Jane some juice,
actually take it to her door
instead of turning around and tossing it.
She’s writhing around, making no sense now
mentions
Christmas
glass figurines
cottage cheese
apple picking
mistakes me for Melanie
tries to sit up
falls back down.
She’s scaring me.
Her flushed face
sweatysaddelirious.
My last memory of Mom
sweatysaddelirious.
While Jane’s been playing off her headaches,
trying to be
the perfect wife
the careful mother
the diligent politician’s aide,
she’s actually been
the ailing wife
the undiagnosed mother
the weakening politician’s aide.
I can’t undo what I’ve said to her.
I can’t even relive the mistakes
thinking of Jane as Queen Vanilla.
I can’t reverse what I’ve said or done.
But I can take control
this time.
Emergency Night
My fingers jitter as I call 911,
tell Jane they’re on their way,
try to sit her up.
I place a cool cloth to her forehead,
tell her it’s going to be okay.
She holds my hand
says she’s ruining everything
and that she can’t see the ocean,
wants out of this hotel
in time for Christmas.
I wipe her sweaty hair from her eyes.
She lays her head on my shoulder.
This might be one of the only times
we’ve touched.
Usually,
she’s holding Melanie,
keeping her distance while I keep mine.
It feels good,
our closeness
calmingcomfortingcaringkind
like mother and daughter.
Could this be something I could have again?
Melanie rushes into the room
sees her mommy
Jane
disjointed and jerky
spewing gibberish
Jane
Melanie’s mother
not my mother.
She starts to cryrecoilcause a scene.
I tell hermake Mommy proud
we’re going for a ride
and I try to be
mother daughter sister High Priestess
for everybody.
Diagnosis and Recovery
Doctors meet Jane, rush her
through double metal doors
as Melanie and me
walk by her side
wondering
worrying
watching.
Jane grabs my hand
says she’s sorry, didn’t mean to let me down.
What does this mean?
I try to ask, but her hand slips out of mine
and out of sight where they’ll
poke probe x-ray test scan
radiate her brain
review her paperwork and
rule out everything.
Sitting in a love seat
waiting in the hall
Melanie and me, together we
wait for more tests
more doctors
Dad.
Hours pass without any information.
I try not to panic.
Dad arrives just in time
to hear the news
from the doctor.
After all these months,
they’ve finally figured it out:
Central Nervous System Vasculitis.
Dr. Frank:She’s going to be okay.
He pats my back.
Dr. Frank:You got her here just in time.
Melanie:Sam saved the day!
Dad weeps.
Says he couldn’t take this again
that once is more than enough.
Dad:For you and me.
I agree.
Just feeling his wet cheek, knowing
he still
remembersmissescares about Mom
somehow makes it okay
to focusworrycare about Jane.
Miguel calls to give us the news.
Me:I rehired him.
Dad smiles
agrees,
he’s practically a Henderson.
Me:And you’re actually a senator.
Dad scoops us up in his arms—my sister and me.
We visit Jane, hooked to an IV,
together we, Melanie and me,
next to Dad, the new state senator,
and Jane, are all one
little
family.
Chocolate Muffins
Another wave of medical staff rush in
patient shakesmachines beeppeople yell
twenty-something female
overdose
Jessica’s gurney rolls by me.
X holds her hand
lying there
pale, unaware.
Doctors ask him to step away
they whisk her off.
His cheeks flush
pink
crimson
burgundy.
He
turns, tilts his head,
pushes back his hair
the way I’ve seen him do a hundred times before.
This one move reminds me
my own hair
gonechangednew.
He
throws his arms over his head,
sighs. I see—
a rip in his shirt forming.
Soon, it will
spreadteargrow
form a long, gaping hole.
Suddenly,
I’m not sad for Sam or jealous of Jessica.
I remember that day,
that first day he plopped down at my booth
when I asked for a chocolate muffin.
I want to learn about life—all of it.
I’d said it.
Now, I am learning about life—good and bad.
He
notices me.
His eyes swim with sadness
hoping to reach the shores
of my sympathy.
I
look away,
smile at Melanie and ask
if she’s hungry.
She
nods her head,
sucking her thumb
and asks if we can get some
chocolate muffins.
We
stand,
holding hands
walking toward the doors
morning washing ashore
hope inside finally restored
looking forward more
than ever before,
I agree.
Acknowledgments
While this is a work of fiction, some real-life characters helped me make this book possible. And so I’d like to thank all the wonderfully supportive people who contributed to bringing this novel to life.
In no particular order, I’d like to say thank you thank you thank you to VCFA and my advisors who helped shape this when it was just a germ of an idea at Vermont. Big thanks to the Keepers, the BrainTrust, and my first, second, third, and millionth readers—you all rock. To my family, who’ve put up with my stories since I was ten. To my dad, who is nothing like Sam’s, and to my non-fictional Gavin inspiration.
Thanks all around to Brian Farrey-Latz for seeing something special in this story, and to all the folks at Flux for their tireless support. To my agent, Erin Harris, and her never-ending enthusiasm. And last but not least, to Rob, who reminded me many a time that it was okay to write when I felt guilty putting everything else aside. I owe you a year’s round of laundry.
© Mary Sylvester
About the Author
Stefanie Lyons holds an MFA from Vermont College of Fine Arts. When she’s not writing, she’s organizing her locker, crushing on boys, practicing her clarinet, or getting ready for prom. In her head, that is. Because her teen years were great. Stefanie resides in Chicago. Dating Down is her first novel.
Visit Stefanie at stefanielyons.com and follow her on Twitter & Instagram: @sllplatform.
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