Lila Blue (28 page)

"Did you get my letter and the
books?" I asked.

"Yes, they came last week. The
books are so big. I don't know where to put them all."

"Did you look at them
yet?"

"I've been busy," she
said. "Maybe today I'll have time. How are you, Sandy?"

"I'm great. Shelly and her mom
came. We got to spend all day Saturday together."

"All the way to Oregon?"

"Yes, it's not too bad if you
fly into Portland. Can you come visit soon?"

"That's what I need to talk to
Lila about. Put her on, please."

"So you're coming?" I was
excited to show my mother how much I was growing up. Maybe she would see me in
a new way.

"Don't get your hopes
up," she said.

"Okay," I said.
"I'll get Grandma. I love you, Mom." I put down the phone and
realized I had gotten my hopes up, way up, and her tone of voice as much as her
words deflated my balloon of hopes.

I tried not to listen to Lila's
conversation with my mom, but I heard anyway. The best I could guess from one
side was that my mom wanted money for a trip, not a trip to Oregon. Lila said
she'd pray about it and call her back the next morning.

When she got off the phone, I
looked at her like a beggar wanting a handout. She sighed. "Your mother
has an opportunity to go to Mexico."

"With a man," I said.

"You're psychic!" she
said, and we both laughed at that one.

"Do you think she'll ever
change?" I asked.

"Everything is changing all
the time. We can't stop it."

"I know," I said,
"but do you think she will?"

"We often have to make the
same mistake dozens of times before we realize we're hurting ourselves and we
need to stop."

"She's already made this
mistake a dozen times I know of," I said. "And I'm barely
twelve."

"Well, maybe this will be the
one that hurts so much she'll have to wake up and try something different. We
can always hope."

"Are you saying we should get
our hopes up?"

"Yes, Cassandra, we should get
our hopes up as high as we can." She stood up, took my hands, smiled at me
and started hopping up and down. "Come on, sweetheart. Get those hopes up
as high as they'll go."

We hopped up and down until the
cats ran into Lila's room to hide under her bed, until we were both laughing
and panting with all the hopping, and until tears were running down my cheeks.
We got our hopes way up for Janice to wake up and try something different.

For Lila's days off, we planned to
stay home on Monday and then go into Salem shopping on Tuesday. Lila had some
things she wanted to get at the beauty supply store, and she said we could shop
for clothes for me if I wanted anything.

"It's less than a month before
school starts," she said. "I'm not sure what one wears to seventh
grade these days, but maybe we'll get some clues at the mall."

It started me thinking about
seventh grade and going to school in Oregon and riding the school bus with
Molly. I'd never cared that much about fashion, but now that my assignment was
to kiss three boys, I wondered if I should pay more attention to how I looked.

Shelly had always seen what the
other girls were wearing and then chosen something different, because the last
thing she wanted was to be one of the crowd. I'd been more oblivious, just
wearing whatever my mom bought me on sale or whatever fit. Usually it came down
to jeans and t-shirts and sweatshirts and canvas shoes, whatever felt
comfortable and didn't need ironing.

I never thought about dressing to
be attractive before. I certainly didn't want to dress like my mom, but I was
open to giving a little more thought to clothes.

Molly had given me two beautiful
white cotton blouses that her real dad had sent her from Mexico. One was
embroidered with butterflies all around the yoke and tree leaves in bright
reds, yellows, and greens. It was very bold and I loved it. The other was just
as beautiful, only it had bright flowers all around the yoke. The blouses fit
well and Molly said they looked great with my jeans.

I wanted to look for a denim skirt
to go with them, because I thought that would look good for school, along with
some flat shoes. So I did have some ideas of styles I wanted to try. It would
be fun to shop for clothes for a change instead of just taking anything my mom
gave me.

While Lila was working downstairs
Monday morning, I went upstairs to practice calligraphy and write a letter to
Mark and Jamie and another one to Shakti. The new pens added a wonderful
fullness to the letters, and I was pretty happy with how fast I was learning to
write beautifully.

Even so, the most I could manage
was addressing the envelopes and writing salutations and closings in pretty
writing. For the rest of the letters, I used regular pens and my messy
combination of printing and cursive to get the job done.

Dear Mark and Jamie, Molly and I
are studying calligraphy, and Kim gave us some pens, so above is a sample. Lila
and I are going to Salem tomorrow to shop for school clothes. I hope I can stay
here for seventh grade. My mom hasn't said yes, but she hasn't said no either,
so my hopes are high.

Jamie, I found some drawings of
yours in the Crow's Nest, so I'm keeping them safe for you. I love the one you
drew of me and Chloe and Zoe. May I keep it? Are you still drawing? I haven't
seen our baby seal, so I assume she is safe. We see seals sometimes outside the
breakers, but I can't tell individual faces.

There were lots of sandpipers
out this morning while Lila and I were walking. I love how they flow in and out
with the water line and how, when they all turn at once, they change color from
gray to white and back to gray again. It's as if they have one mind. They are
all part of one creature, and their mind is the sea. Sometimes I'm tempted to
chase them like the dogs do to make them fly, but then I think it's not nice to
frighten them, so I behave myself. Running after them is very tempting though.

Mark, I hope your leg is healing
and the physical therapist is getting nicer. Are you using crutches everywhere?
Well, if you have time, please write. Namaste, Cassandra Blue

After writing to my brothers, I
came back downstairs to check in with Lila. She was writing at her desk and
just smiled as I went by. Then I heard her call Marta. I tried not to snoop,
but I couldn't help it. They were discussing the gun thing.

"I'll try something,"
Lila said, "but I need you to tell me if I'm getting the right emotional
undertones."

There was a pause, in which I was
sure Marta was agreeing to whatever Lila wanted. She was the editor, after all,
and she needed Lila's work.

I wasn't sure a person could
possibly get all the undertones right with such a volatile issue. I went back
upstairs with a big glass of iced tea and my dark thoughts, and that's how I
started out my letter to Shakti.

Dear Shakti, What do you think
about guns? I mean people owning guns and keeping them in the house. Do your
parents have guns? Some little kids got killed here playing with their parents'
guns, and now some people want to regulate them. They're trying to get Lila
involved. I don't have a good feeling about it. Am I being an ostrich and
hiding my head in the sand?

Thank you for coming all the way
to Oregon to see me. I'm sad we won't be in seventh grade together, but I'm
happy you will be in Boston in a good school. I hope you have time to call me.
Still not sure about seventh grade for me. Lila is taking me to Salem tomorrow
to shop for school clothes. Do you have any suggestions? What are boys
attracted to? I'm keeping your assignment in mind and will send you progress
reports.

Molly is still plotting to get a
dog for Kitty Lynn. Kitty is back in her shop today, so maybe she'll be ready
for a new dog soon.

I hope you and Ian are having a
fun reunion. Keep your suits on! Love, Cassandra Blue

I sealed both letters and took them
downstairs to ask Lila for stamps. She was talking to Janice on the phone. I
put my letters on her desk and plopped myself on the couch where I could gaze
at the ocean and still listen in on the conversation.

"If you're sure you want to do
this," Lila said, "if you're sure it's the right thing, then I need
something from you first."

I could imagine my mother acting
like a sullen teenager, saying, "What."

"I need you to sign the papers
I sent and return those with her birth certificate, medical records, and school
records. When I get those, I'll send you the money."

There was another pause.

"You can come here anytime and
have it changed. I don't feel right about you being out of the country if
Cassandra is not legally provided for."

I was holding my breath, afraid to
think, waiting for what would come next.

"It is a big decision, dear.
Take plenty of time thinking about it. You don't have to decide right
now."

She listened for a long time and
then said, "If he's pressuring you, that's not a good sign."

She listened patiently again, and I
wondered if my mother was sober. It was only noon, but that might not mean
anything now that I was gone.

Lila said, "I'm sure
everything will work out. Don't worry. Whatever you decide will be right for
everyone."

I wanted to jump up and argue with
Lila about that, but I kept still. I had a pretty good idea about what would be
right for me, and it was staying in Oregon, not being in California or Mexico
with Janice and some new man who was no different from the last dozen.

When she hung up the phone, Lila
went to the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee. I followed her. "What
did she say?" I asked.

"She wants to go to Mexico
with this new fellow. He says she can work at a new retirement complex. He's
telling her the job lasts six months, but he wants her to start right away,
next week."

"Why does she need money
then?" I asked. "Why doesn't he pay to get her situated down there if
he wants her to work for him?"

"I asked her that," she
said. "She didn't have a good answer."

"So she'll let me stay
here?"

"We'll have to wait and
see," she said. "And hope and pray." She hopped up and down in
the kitchen a few times, trying to get me to laugh about getting our hopes up,
but I couldn't lighten up. I really hated having to wait for my mother to
decide my fate. She was incompetent.

When the coffee was ready, we took
our cups outside and sat on the porch steps and watched the gulls play on the
wind and the gray waves break on the brownish gray sand. Heavy clouds hung over
the whole area like a soggy blanket. I put the hood up on my sweatshirt and
Lila wrapped her shawl over her hair and around her neck like a scarf. The
coffee tasted so good outdoors.

"Cassandra, you're going to
have to forgive your mother someday. Might as well be today. Get it over with.
Free yourself up for the rest of your life."

"I'm not ready," I said.

"When do you think you'll be
ready?" she asked.

"Not today," I said.
"Maybe when she sends you all those papers and I can stay here. Maybe
then."

"Okay," she said.
"But you might try forgiving just a few things a day for a while. To get
in practice."

"Like what?"

"Like forgive her for
drinking? For being your mother? For having problems with men? For not being
able to see you because she's too busy looking at herself in the mirror?"

"You make her sound like a
monster."

"Actually, she not that
different from a lot of women her age. She's not a monster, but she's not the
ideal mother, either." She laughed. "Of course, no one is the ideal
mother, so there you go."

"Okay, but I'm not sure how to
forgive her. Do I have to stop being mad at her first?"

"Well, in my experience, when
you forgive a little, a little of the anger drains away by itself."

"Okay, I forgive her."

"Which part?"

"I forgive her for being my
mother."

"Good. That's a good place to
start. How does it feel?"

"I don't know. I don't think
it worked. I'm still mad."

"Maybe it will take some
practice. Give it a few days. Forgiveness feels a lot like acceptance. Like
nonresistance. Like allowing. You could say to yourself, I accept Janice as my
mother. I allow Janice to be my mother. Janice is my mother, and it's okay. Try
those a few days. See how you feel. Let me know, okay?"

I tried it while I drank the rest
of my coffee and watched the gulls dip and glide, swerve, pivot, and soar. It's
okay that Janice is my mother. I accept my mother. Janice isn't ideal, nobody
is, but she's not a monster, either. Repeating those ideas did cause something
to loosen up inside me, making it easier to breathe. Something told me getting
really good at forgiveness was going to take a lot more practice than getting really
good at kissing.

Lila worked on the gun essay Monday
afternoon while I napped, read, knitted, and played with the kitty girls. I was
curious about it, but I decided to wait to read it. Maybe she'd still decide
not to get involved.

Tuesday morning I woke up with this
dream. I am in a little log cabin in the forest far away from anyone else. I
live there by myself with a dog and some chickens. The weird thing is I'm
myself, but I'm a man, and it's as if I'm watching myself, the man self, get
ready to leave the cabin to go hunting with a gun. I have on a jacket with big
pockets and heavy boots, and in the dream I can feel the weight of them on my
body. My dog goes with me. We walk into the woods, and then it gets really dark
and there is thunder and lightning. It rains so hard we try to get back to the
cabin, but we are lost. I tell my dog to go home, thinking her instincts would
be better than mine, but she just looks at me to lead her.