My Lost and Found Life

by Melodie Bowsher

  Chapter Five

  Graduation night always means lots of parties, but I felt too wounded to call around and find out what was happening. I stayed home, having a one-woman pity party, moping and listening to a CD of my-boyfriend’s-left-me-and-I-think-I’ll-kill-myself songs. Around ten I heard a car horn honk. I looked outside and saw a long white limousine pulled up to the curb. Out popped the platinum-and-purple head of Tatiana, better known as Tattie, the wildest girl in the entire school.

  “Hey, let’s get crazy. It’s party time!” Tattie shouted as I opened the front door. I could hear the raucous rap of OutKast blasting from inside the limo. The music was so loud the car was vibrating.

  Why not? I thought. Waiting and moping wasn’t doing me any good. Why not get crazy?

  “Give me two minutes,” I yelled back, and dashed into my bedroom to don my shortest, hottest skirt, a red halter top, and a pair of sexy high-heeled sandals.

  I was surprised at this unexpected invitation. Tattie and I had never been close. She was a little too over the top for my taste. While my ears and belly button are pierced, Tattie wore six earrings in each ear and one in her eyebrow plus a stud in the side of her lip. She also had a tattoo of a tiger on her backside, which everyone could see when she bent over. Most of her outfits were tight and garish and looked as if she bought them at Kmart. Still, she had a great body, and she had been voted “Best Figure” in the entire school. The guys liked to say she had quite a rack.

  As I walked up to the limo, I saw that tonight Tattie’s notorious breasts were corralled inside a low-cut leather and lace camisole.

  “Get in, get in,” she urged me, pulling on my arm. I was barely inside before the limo took off amid a loud chorus of shrieks. The back was crowded to the max with the laughing, gyrating bodies of ten excited new graduates, male and female, sipping beer or wine coolers. The smell of marijuana was thick in the air. Someone must have slipped the driver a big wad of cash to make him ignore what was going on. This group was definitely ready to party.

  I wondered what had prompted Tattie to invite me along, but I didn’t ask. I was just glad she did. Last winter both Tattie and I had lead roles in the school’s musical production of Chicago. (Ironically, Nicole could outsing us both, but she cringed at the very thought of singing a solo onstage.) At rehearsals we discovered a mutual affinity for playing practical jokes and generally acting up.

  At the final cast party, we outdid ourselves by doing a provocative little dance that ended when we flipped our skirts up and mooned everyone by wagging our thong-clad butts. That dance was the upper limit of my wildness, though it was probably the tamest story circulating about Tattie.

  After the play was over, Tattie and I didn’t become best buds or go to the mall together. Still, we remained friendly.

  As I settled into a seat near the door, Tattie passed me a plastic cup full of brew. “Welcome to the club, girlfriend,” she said.

  I wondered what club she was referring to—the losers club? The misfits club? The let’s-get-high club? I didn’t say anything, though, because tonight I was just thankful to be a member of whatever club would have me. At the same time, I hoped I wouldn’t run into Mara, Scott, or any of my old crowd—they would probably think it was pretty funny to see the bunch of oddballs and freaks I was hanging out with. Or maybe they would feel sorry for me. I wasn’t sure which reaction would be worse.

  The limo’s first stop was a rave party in Redwood City where everyone jumped out to dance in the street with several hundred other gyrating tweakers. A boy with a Mohawk offered me some Ecstasy, but I passed. A few puffs on a joint together with the beer I’d been drinking made me feel sufficiently mellow. After a couple of hours we went on to some random party at an estate in ritzy Hillsborough. Eventually the cops showed up and everyone took off.

  Around two we ended up back at my house since no parents or disapproving adults would interfere. I danced up a storm and hooked up with a semicute guy from another school named Ryan. He was a good kisser, and I felt more relaxed than I had in days. Of course, Ryan had to push it and whisper “Let’s go in the bedroom” in my ear. I ignored him after that and eventually he split.

  Around four I stumbled down the hall to my room and collapsed on my bed without undressing. At some point the sound of frantic catlike scratching on the other side of my closed door pierced my slumber. I didn’t move—Stella would have to wait for her breakfast.

  It was midafternoon before I finally emerged and tottered toward the kitchen. As I passed through the living room, I paused in what had become an involuntary action—checking the driveway for my mother’s car. It wasn’t there.

  Once I had fed the cat and downed some aspirin, I paused to survey the damage. Glasses, empty wine bottles, beer cans, and the remains of what appeared to be a pepperoni pizza were strewn here and there. The hall phone was off the hook, CDs were tossed on the floor, and the place smelled like a brewery. Fortunately, I didn’t see anything that looked like permanent damage. I did notice, though, that someone’s skirt and sandals had been abandoned near the sofa.

  A quick look around the house revealed that Tattie was the owner of these garments. I found her sprawled across my mother’s bed, dressed only in a thong, with her spiked hair sticking up like a rooster’s feathers from the pillow. Stella ran in ahead of me, jumped on the bed, and sniffed the pillow as if she was identifying the species of this mysterious stranger.

  “Go away, cat,” Tattie said in a husky voice as she sat up and wrapped the top sheet around her shoulders. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. I should have told her not to smoke in my mother’s room, but I didn’t.

  “Do you need to call your mother?” I asked.

  Tattie gave me a sleepy smile. “Don’t worry. She won’t even have noticed I’m not there.”

  It was no secret to me or half the town that Tattie’s mother was a big drinker. She tended bar in a bowling alley and was prone to oversampling what she served.

  “God, I feel like I smoked four thousand cigarettes last night,” Tattie said, coughing and rubbing her eyes. “Maybe I did.”

  I pulled the drapes open to let the sun in, looked out the window, and sighed.

  “What are you so down about? High school is finally over—we’re free at last.”

  “Yeah, sure, everything’s great. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and my mother is missing.”

  “Gawd, I’d be thrilled if my mother disappeared,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, I’m almost out of money, and I don’t know when my mother is going to show up.”

  “You need some money? No sweat, just have a garage sale and sell some of this stuff.” She waved her hands, gesturing at all the stuff in the room.

  I was taken aback. “What do you mean? Sell our furniture and clothes? I can’t do that. What would my mother think when she came home and found I had sold all her things?”

  “Hey, that’s what she deserves for leaving you busted. Anyway, if she comes back, she’s going to understand you had to sell the stuff. If she doesn’t come back, it won’t matter.”

  “My mother will be back,” I barked at her.

  “Okay, relax, don’t freak out. She’ll be back,” Tattie said, backing off. “Then take some clothes down to one of those secondhand clothing stores. I hear Couture Closet will give you cash on the spot if you have really good stuff.”

  I looked inside my mother’s bulging closet and thought that maybe Tattie was on to something. Maybe I could even sell a few outfits I didn’t wear anymore.

  After taking a shower, I drove Tattie home. I came back determined to choose some stuff to sell. But once I stepped inside my mother’s closet, I was immediately overwhelmed by the familiar scent of her White Shoulders perfume. Standing there, she seemed so close that I expected to turn around and find her behind me. I stroked the soft cashmere of her favorite navy blazer, the one she wore to work on so many mornings. Her silky blouses with those ridiculous bows at the neck were hang
ing there too. If she would just come back, I would never make fun of them again. If she’d just come back, I’d be a perfect daughter. I would. I really would.

  I grabbed her satiny blue bathrobe and slipped it on over my clothes. It was as close to having her arms around me as I could get. Tears, the same tears I had been fighting to hold back for days, began to trickle down my cheeks and then turned into a flood. My heart hurt so much I didn’t think I could bear it. I sank down on the carpet and bawled like a baby—a baby who wanted her mother and couldn’t find her.

  Finally, I pulled myself together and escaped to the bathroom. I had barely managed to wash away the evidence of my tears when the doorbell rang. It was Nicole.

  “Where have you been?” she said in an exasperated tone, plopping down on the sofa. “I must have called you a dozen times.”

  “Oops, sorry. I was going to come say good-bye. I thought you’d be busy packing. The plane leaves in just a few hours.”

  “I’m not going,” she replied.

  “What?” I was stunned. “Have you lost your mind?”

  “I don’t want you to be alone when everything is so weird right now.”

  “That’s insane. Why should you skip a great trip to Hawaii just so we can both be miserable? I’ll be fine. There’s nothing you can do, believe me. There’s nothing anyone can do right now.”

  “Hawaii won’t be any fun without you. Anyway, you wouldn’t go without me,” she insisted.

  “Yes, I would,” I said, and it was true. I wouldn’t want to go without her but I would. “Listen to your big sister. There’s absolutely no point in you staying here.”

  While I always called myself her big sister, in reality I was only four months older than Nicole. Sometimes, though, it seemed like four years.

  “I can’t believe this is happening. It isn’t fair,” she said.

  Inside my head, I could hear my mother’s voice telling me over and over that life isn’t fair. I hadn’t ever believed her until now.

  Seeing that Nic was on the verge of tears, I tried to make a joke. “Hey, I know without me you won’t be able to enjoy the sun and sand and waves, not to mention all those hot-looking surfers. But I need you to ruin Scott’s trip and make sure he doesn’t have any fun.”

  She didn’t even crack a smile.

  “Anyway, your mother will never let you drop out now, not after she’s already paid big bucks for the nonrefundable deposit.”

  “I’ll make her understand,” she muttered.

  “Don’t waste your breath. You know and I know that whether you sing or say it, your mother isn’t going to listen, not even if you get down on your knees.”

  “About my mother...,” Nicole began, and then stopped.

  “What?”

  “I asked her if you could come and stay with us until your mother comes back but …”

  I hooted with sarcastic laughter. “Wow, I can imagine what she said to that. I’ll bet your mother is really enjoying the mess I’m in.”

  Nicole flushed. She didn’t say anything, just reached up and began twisting a lock of her hair around her finger. We both knew that Cindy had never been my biggest fan, even in grade school. She told Nicole that I was “insolent.” Nicole’s dad liked me, though; he said I was spunky. But when he took off with the other woman, Cindy’s mild dislike of me intensified. Junior year, when Nicole dropped out of the school’s production of My Fair Lady and I took over the lead role, Cindy was furious. She also blamed me when Nicole wouldn’t try out for cheerleader, and she was livid when I was named homecoming queen, even though I made sure Nicole was a princess in my court. Cindy just wouldn’t accept that her daughter hated the spotlight and nothing was going to change that. For years I tried to coach Nicole and teach her how to put on the whole self-confident act I’m so good at, but she just couldn’t do it.

  Really, it was sweet of Nic to try to persuade her mother to take me in, though I could have told her it would never happen.

  “Thanks anyway,” I said. “But honestly, I need to stay at my house in case my mother calls.”

  She was still mechanically twisting her hair, so I reached up and grabbed her hand. “And stop yanking on your hair!” I scolded her. “You’ve already got a tiny bald spot there.”

  She dropped her hand. “Sorry. I’m trying to stop, really I am. I’m just so worried about what’s going to happen. I don’t just mean Hawaii, but about college and everything. What if your mother doesn’t …?” Her voice trailed off.

  For years Nicole and I had been planning to room together at an East Coast college. After applying to at least a dozen, we both had received acceptance letters in April from Boston University.

  “You worry too much,” I said, without admitting I was having the same fears. “My mother will probably show up tomorrow. When she does, I have a plan.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll make her pop for a ticket so I can join you in Hawaii.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Nicole said eagerly. “She should buy you a first-class ticket. It would only be fair, after all she’s put you through.”

  I nodded agreement without telling her how unlikely I thought that was. I was beginning to doubt there would be any quick and easy solution to this mess. My mother would come back, of that I was sure. But when she reappeared, she would almost certainly be hauled off to jail and wouldn’t be in any position to pass out money for first-class tickets to Hawaii.

  The last couple of nights I’d been troubled by dreams in which my mother was captured and dragged off in handcuffs while TV cameras filmed her humiliation (and mine). It seemed too horrible to even hope for such an ugly conclusion. Yet at least I would know where she was and if she was all right.

  Nicole eventually went home to finish packing for Hawaii. When I hugged her good-bye, I held on tight for a few extra seconds, comforted by the reassuring arms of someone who cared about me. Then I let go.

  Chapter Six

  That night, while Nicole and all my former friends were in the sky en route to Hawaii, I was in my car on my way to Tattie’s place.

  Tattie lived in a white stucco bungalow along the access road facing the freeway. While there is no such thing as a “bad” neighborhood in Burlingame, her street came closest, with its small houses and even smaller yards. Her house was the least impressive on the block since it needed repainting and the front yard had more weeds than grass.

  I parked at the curb behind Tattie’s dented Honda and walked up to ring the doorbell. Before I could even press it, the door swung open and I was staring straight at two breasts threatening to burst out of a low-cut green top.

  Tattie’s mother gave me the once-over and yelled behind her, “Don’t you even think of going somewhere before you get this place cleaned up! Get your little friend here to help you.”

  With that, she barreled past me and headed for the driveway. I stood watching as her sizable bottom convulsed inside too-tight black pants.

  Her mother pulled herself into the driver’s seat of a yellow Mazda with a deep crease in the passenger-side door. She paused to check her face in the rearview mirror. Her hair was dyed an aggressive shade of red, and she was wearing more makeup than you’d see at an Estée Lauder counter. She and Tattie obviously shared a love of excess.

  “Are you lost, Miz Ashley?” Tattie said from behind me in the doorway.

  “Bored,” I answered, and walked inside. “I came over to see what you were doing.”

  “You’ve come to the right place,” Tattie said. “The excitement never stops around here.”

  She walked through the living room, and I followed her, trying not to wince or hold my nose. Her house was a complete mess, with newspapers and clothes and dirty dishes everywhere. And the place smelled—the rancid odor of cooking grease and soiled laundry fought with the heavy floral scents of air freshener and hair spray.

  She walked into a tiny bathroom and paused in front of the mirror to apply blush to her already red cheeks. I stood leaning
in the doorway since there wasn’t anywhere I wanted to sit down.

  “What flavor of excitement are you serving tonight?” I asked.

  “That all depends,” she said. “Just wait and see. You like this shadow?”

  She was applying glittering gold cream to her eyelids.

  “Wow,” I said for lack of a better comment.

  “Makeup is kind of my mask,” she admitted, letting her mouth hang open slightly as she applied more mascara to her eyelashes. “I even sleep with it on so I don’t scare myself in the morning. I’m kind of a hag that way.”

  “You look more biker babe than hag in that outfit,” I said. She was wearing all black, from her low-cut top to her leather miniskirt and matching boots.

  She laughed and said, “We make quite a contrast. You look like Little Miss Gap or something.”

  I smiled, although my designer jeans and form-fitting pinstripe jacket cost a lot more than anything from the Gap. She clearly didn’t recognize classic style when she saw it.

  “Time to boogie,” she said. “Let’s haul ass. I’ll drive.”

  We climbed into Tattie’s Honda and took off for San Francisco, or “the City,” as it is referred to by everyone who lives in the burbs. The minute I slid into the front seat, I made a mental note to never ride in her car again. Part of the floorboard beneath the passenger side was missing. I had to balance my feet carefully so that my foot didn’t slip through the hole and hit the pavement below.

  She drove fast, and twenty minutes later we pulled off the freeway onto Cesar Chavez Boulevard. As we sped down debris-lined streets past grimy buildings with peeling paint, I began to get uneasy. I was not familiar with this part of San Francisco and didn’t want to be either.