Connecting Dots

by Sharon Jennings

  “I hate my mother. So shut up. I don’t want to pretend anything.”

  Lee – Leanna – looked so hurt that something inside me backed down. “It’s a touchy subject for me, okay?”

  She nodded. “Sorry. I was being presumptuous. It’s because I read so much, my mother says. Say! Do you want to go to the bookmobile with me?”

  I had nothing better to do. Plus, she was really impressed with my go-go boots and John Lennon hat.

  She talked non-stop the whole way. She told me who lived where and what she thought of them. Who cares?! I wanted to scream. And yet…

  Leanna didn’t think she was better than me. I knew the other girls thought they were. Leanna seemed to think being an orphan made me special. Exotic. And all her talking was to share her neighborhood with me. She actually put her arm around me as she guided me along. She wanted me to be a part of this neighborhood.

  Like I belonged.

  The bookmobile was a library in a truck. On wheels so it could travel around. A lady gave me a form to fill in and wouldn’t you know? I couldn’t remember my new address. So I took off. Leanna ran after me and got us a Popsicle and gave me half. She was so determined to break the thing straight down the middle. I was surprised. Most people tell me to be grateful for whatever I get.

  I wished she’d stop about orphans though. I felt crummy fooling her.

  It was still hot but getting dark, and kids were running around the streets playing. Boys and girls together, big and little, yelling and laughing. Someone called, “Come play, Lee. Bring your friend!” Leanna grabbed my hand and we ran across the street to hide behind a car.

  Leanna didn’t put her fists on her hips and say, “She’s not my friend, stupid!”

  We squatted behind the wheel and I could smell gas and rubber and banana from the Popsicle, sticky on our hands. Leanna had her finger to her lips. “Shhhh!” Her glasses were smudged and crooked on her nose. She pushed in closer to me, and I could smell baby powder.

  You know what? I’ve never had a friend. There was no one I wanted to phone or visit me. I decided to give Leanna a chance.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next day, Leanna wanted to be my best friend. Great – I’m supposed to go from no friends to having a best friend overnight.

  “Why?” I asked her.

  “Because you’re an orphan,” she said. Then she said she wanted to be an orphan. I yelled at her and slammed some doors. Doris sent her home and then had a “sit-down” with me.

  “Lee’s parents are good neighbors, and I won’t have you making a scene.”

  She poured me a glass of Tang. “You are welcome in this house as long as you behave. I knew your grandmother. I like to think she knows you are here, and I am doing my best for you. But.”

  Grandma. I gulped my juice to keep from crying. Why sad? I’d had almost four years to get used to my life. Why cry now?

  “Lee would be a good friend for you. She isn’t like some of the other girls around here.”

  No kidding. Leanna is goofy.

  Doris looked out the window and said Kathy was coming up the drive. “I don’t want you playing with her, Cass. She’s too…too mature.” She pinched her lips together.

  So, of course, I went with Kathy to her house just to bug Doris. Her bedroom was in the basement so she could have privacy from her little brothers and sisters. It was a girly room – pink and silver. Would I ever have a room I could decorate?

  Kathy wanted to talk about boys. And kissing. And bras. And her clothes. And her. Just her, over and over.

  She did have lots of records. I played some while she changed into all her outfits.

  “Well?” She twirled and posed each time, hand on waist, hip jutted. “I want to be a model. What do you think?” She sucked in her cheeks and pouted her lips.

  At least she didn’t ask me any orphan questions…. She didn’t ask anything about me.

  “The girls around here are so immature,” she said. “I could tell right away you’re different.”

  “How?”

  “Well, because you have the right clothes. You’d look okay beside me.”

  “What about Leanna?”

  “Lee? You joking? She’s terrible. And she’s bossy. She’s a real know-it-all.” She did a fake shudder. “She wrote a play last year and put it on for the school and she didn’t ask me to be in it.” She tossed her hair.

  Then Kathy wanted to act out this thing where I was a go-go dancer and danced on a table behind her as she pretended to be Dianna Ross – “Stop! In the Name of Love” – watching herself in the mirror. When I hopped down off the table and moved out in front she had a fit.

  “What are you doing? I’m the star!”

  Caroline Smithers all over again.

  “I’ve had drama lessons, you know. I’m going to be an actress, like Patty Duke. Have my own TV show.”

  She pulled me to the mirror. “Look. Look at us. Look at me. Now…which one of us is pretty?”

  Her walls were covered with pictures from magazines. Photos of Petula Clark and whatshername from Bewitched and Gidget and Jean Shrimpton and Julie Christie. None of them looked like me.

  “My mother was gorgeous,” I said.

  “Well, you’re not.”

  I shook her off and looked around for my hat. She grabbed my arm. “Don’t go. I could help. We could fix your hair and you could use my makeup and…”

  She looked so desperate I almost stayed. But she didn’t want me for me. She wanted another mirror.

  On the way out I saw the beer mugs Leanna had told me about – the ones Kathy’s father collected with bare-naked ladies for handles. I imagined someone touching them – a hand on a bare bum – and felt sick.

  I went home. I’d been here less than a day, and I’d already ruined two friendships.

  I heard a slight cough and there she was – goofy Leanna back again.

  “Why do you want to be an orphan?”

  She sat down. “Because my favorite books are about orphans! Because you can do what you want to do. No one tells you what to do. It’s a very romantic life.”

  “You’re an ass. I don’t have one moment of doing what I want to do. Everyone I’ve ever stayed with tells me do this, do that, or else.”

  “But that’s awful! You’re an orphan. People should be extra kind and – ”

  “Well, they’re not. But here’s the deal. If you want to be friends, you have to shut up about orphans. I’m sick to death of being reminded. Okay?”

  She looked like a little girl who’d lost her dolly. I sighed. “What do you like doing?”

  “Writing! I want to be a writer when I grow up. I’ve written a play. Wanna see?”

  Well, I wanted to be an actress. So I said yes. And besides, I remembered the smugness of Patty and Caroline and now Kathy. I wasn’t good enough for them, and they were bestowing a favor – queen to peasant. But Leanna – Leanna’s face was open and smiling. Nothing hidden or smug.

  I went from giving Leanna a chance to thinking it might be fun.

  Chapter Twenty

  And so we put on a play. I read Leanna’s script, and I liked it. I played the evil witch and did most of the directing. We spent lots of time discussing how to make it work, out there in the backyard under trees.

  “What about the curtain?” I asked.

  “We could hang a blanket between these two branches. And then the fairies could crawl out from under and greet the audience.” She jumped up. “And the fairies could lift each corner and pin it back to these trees. And – Oh! It would be magical!” She whirled around. “What do you think?”

  Me? What do I think? Wow. A first time for everything! But she didn’t let me answer.

  “Oh! And what if we use Debbie’s dog – Tinkerbell. She’s huge! She could be the dragon!” Leanna wasn’t in the b
ackyard anymore. She was off somewhere, like in a dream world, seeing things I couldn’t. “Well? Well?”

  Before I knew it, Leanna and I were scribbling down ideas and walking around the streets, asking kids to be in the play. But definitely not Kathy.

  We rehearsed for a couple of weeks in Leanna’s backyard. Her mom came out and watched. She had this funny habit of sniffling – like she had a constant runny nose. She made rolled-up peanut butter and banana sandwiches and Kool-Aid for us so we could keep working and nobody had to go home for lunch. Leanna complained about her mom a lot. Sometimes I thought Leanna was a bit of a baby.

  “If you want to write, just write! Stop mooning around like an idiot.” I told her when she complained again about her mom saying she couldn’t be a writer when she grew up. Honestly, she was so annoying.

  “It doesn’t matter what your mom says you can be when you’re older. For all you know, your mom won’t even be ali…” I clapped my hand over my mouth. My big mouth.

  But she didn’t get mad at me. She put her arm around me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It must be so hard for you.”

  Yeah. Hard to remember all the lies.

  But whenever I thought I couldn’t listen to Leanna anymore, something would happen and I’d change my mind. One day, I said something to Doris that she didn’t like. She said I didn’t know how to dust properly and I said, “Who cares?” I mean, they never had any company over. Doris slammed her mop against the floor and yelled. “You’re heading down the same road as your mother. Above yourself, thinking you know best. Well, not under my roof!”

  I was sent to my room to “think things over.” Funny thing – I didn’t hate Doris. I hated Rita. Would she ever leave me alone? I felt haunted by her. Why did everyone compare every little thing I did to my mother? Why couldn’t I just be me?

  Doris and Ray went to visit friends that night and Leanna called me to come out. She took me to her secret spot, her sanctuary, she called it. It was behind some bushes in her backyard. She made me lie down and she pointed to the moon overhead and a couple of stars.

  It was damp and mosquitoes were out and I imagined worms crawling under me. I was just about to sing that song “going to the garden to eat worms, chomp, chomp, chomp” because nobody loved me for sure, but then Leanna grabbed my hand.

  “I come out here lots. I like to lie on the grass and watch the stars move and think about eternity and infinity. And heaven. And death. And love. Do you wonder what it’d be like to love someone so much you’d die for them? Do you love anyone?” It was like Leanna not to wait for an answer, just to keep blabbing. “Do you have a best friend? A bosom friend? My mother won’t let me say the word bosom but it just means a friend of the heart. I feel a connection to you. I don’t know why. Maybe it is our destiny. Maybe we are fated to be together for all eternity.”

  Eternity with Leanna. Huh. But then… After never being wanted, maybe I just wasn’t used to the idea.

  I felt the warmth of her body along the length of mine. I listened to her voice in the dark. I could smell rosemary from somewhere and it smelled like the skin cream Grandma used. And it was like Grandma was there, urging me to accept this friendship offered so openly, no strings attached. I didn’t have to be somebody’s mirror or backup dancer. I wasn’t something dirty. Not con-tay-jus. No cooties. I dug my fingers into the earth to hold onto something stable because my world was shifting. To be liked – just for me. Why? Because. That perfect answer. Because.

  I felt tears sting. And to keep from telling all my secrets, I complained about Doris. When I did cry, Leanna thought it was about Doris. She rolled on her side and put her arm over me. But for once she didn’t say anything.

  «««

  I got out the photo of Grandma and me. I looked at it for a long time. I put it on the dresser and wondered if Leanna was right, that people who love you watch out for you, even when they are dead. She was talking about Rita – and she was desperately hinting around about my dad – but I was smart enough not to say anything.

  There was a tap on my door and I was surprised it was Ray. “Mind if I come in for a sec?”

  I liked Ray. I liked the way he dressed in a suit every morning to go to work. I liked how clean his nails were when I watched him eat his grapefruit – every morning, half a grapefruit and a bowl of Red River Cereal. I liked the way he smelled – Old Spice aftershave – and the way his hair was so neatly trimmed. I liked the way he sipped his Scotch every day after work – a “smallsy” he called it – and nibbled at his melba toast and his bit of cheese while barbecuing. I liked that he always asked me how I wanted my steak. A whole steak for a girl who suffered through pink chicken and watery stew and spinach gloop.

  He leaned against the wall. “So how are things? Heard you and Doris had a bit of a fricassee earlier?”

  I was going to tell him my side of it. But I could see Grandma looking at me and said I was sorry, instead.

  “Hmmm. Doris and I don’t have children. I’m glad we took you on for a bit. You liven up the place.” He smiled. “But be careful, okay? Help around the house, and keep some of your thoughts to yourself.”

  I nodded.

  “We’ll be going up to the lake soon. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on that because you and Doris can’t get along.” It wasn’t a threat. More like he was explaining something obvious to a dunce.

  The lake! It is true!

  “So show Doris you’re grateful.” He moved to the door. “And this is just between you and me.” He opened the door, but turned back and pulled out his wallet. “Here,” he said, giving me ten dollars. “Girls sometimes need to buy themselves things, I’m told.”

  The next morning I was up first. I heated the Red River Cereal and sectioned the grapefruit and did the dishes. Doris eyed me like I was an imposter.

  Maybe I was. When I studied myself in the mirror, I looked happy.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The play was wonderful. Everyone said so. I made Leanna take a bow as the playwright and everyone signed each other’s scripts just in case we became famous.

  Leanna’s mother said she was too busy to watch, even though it was in her own backyard. She told us not to get too big for our britches and not to get swollen heads. Something about “pride goeth before a fall.”

  “What is she talking about?” I asked.

  Leanna shrugged. “I told you. She thinks being a writer is silly. And she’s Presbyterian.”

  But I saw Mrs. Mets watching from behind the bedroom curtain. I wondered if she was just afraid we’d all get our hopes up. And if that was it, well, I understood about not getting your hopes up.

  I’m now at the part of my story I don’t want to write. I felt like such a hypocrite. (Leanna taught me that word.)

  I was asleep and Doris shook me awake. “Where’s Lee?” When I didn’t answer, she shook me harder. “Cass. Where is Lee?”

  “I don’t know. Why?” I stared at her head. I’d never seen her in the middle of the night before, so I didn’t know she wrapped her hair in a net. She got it done once a week, every Friday afternoon, at the beauty salon. She never washed it or brushed it in between.

  Doris sat on the bed. Crumpled down. I saw her chest heave. She took a big gulping breath. “It’s her father. Mr. Mets. Marjorie found him.” Doris put a hand to her heart. “He’s dead. Earl is dead, and we can’t find Lee.” Her voice rose in a wail and I scrambled from under the sheet.

  “I know. I think I know. I’ll go.” I ran out of the house in my bare feet. All the lights were on next door. I climbed the back fence and slipped across the wet grass to Leanna’s sanctuary.

  She was curled in a ball, asleep. I didn’t want to wake her. Until I did, she didn’t have to know. I remembered how I felt when Mrs. Huggins said my grandmother was dead. I did not want Leanna to feel like that.

  “Leanna,” I whispered. “Leanna.
Wake up. You’ve got to wake up.”

  She stirred and looked at me and then took in where she was. She laughed. “I’m in big trouble, aren’t I?”

  I told her. Straight out. Like pulling off a Band-Aid. I watched her freeze. Just go completely still. Then she blinked.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Leanna. You’ve got to come inside. Your mother…”

  She got up and took my hand and I led her into her house like she was a two year old. She stopped at the door.

  “I’m half an orphan, aren’t I? I’m almost like you, aren’t I?” I saw a look of horror on her face. “And it’s my fault, isn’t it? I wanted to be an orphan. I said so and now look. Look what I’ve done.”

  She ran to her mother and I stood alone, a despicable creature. Even when she came home with me – to give her mom some time to make arrangements – I couldn’t tell her the truth about me. Doris gave me a sign, making a face, and I knew what she meant. Do not blab about Rita. Do not tell Leanna that you are not “like her.”

  I didn’t see much of Leanna for the next two days, but I went to the funeral with Doris and Ray. I didn’t know Mr. Mets very well. He took Leanna and me to the Dairy Queen one night and wouldn’t let me pay, even though I had ten dollars. And he took us to the airport and hummed a tune I knew.

  “That was one of my grandma’s favorite songs,” I said.

  Mr. Mets smiled. “Ol’ Blue Eyes – Frank Sinatra. ‘Come Fly With Me.’ Your grandma liked it?”

  “Loved it!” And it happened again. Grandma was there with me, lying on the hood of the car, watching planes take off. To Bombay? Acapulco?

  Leanna started probing again. But Mr. Mets told Leanna to stop bothering me with questions. And he put his hand on my shoulder when we got back home. “Don’t be bitter,” he said, in a low voice so Leanna didn’t hear. “You’ll be fine, just wait and see. Don’t be bitter.” And the day after I got here he gave me some peonies from his garden – huge blush-red ones. “Just be sure to shake out any ants first,” he warned. “If I hear Doris shrieking I’ll know what happened!” He chuckled and I grinned. Doris shrieking was hilarious.