Same Old Truths (23 page)

The light turned green and everyone made their way across the street. Everyone, that is, except Kay. She just stood there staring at broken pieces of banana bread and the empty styro-foam box lying at her feet.

16

Aloha Oe

“Mom,” Cory yelled from upstairs. “Are you finished with my bibbers yet? Violet’s gonna be here any minute.”

Kay had just tied the finishing knot on the hem of Cory’s band uniform and was cutting the thread with her teeth. She looked up just in time to catch sight of Cory coming down the stairs dressed only in her band uniform jacket and shako, knees bent in full pli
é,
attacking each step with alternating feet.

“I think you should go dressed like that,” Kay kidded. “Your band would win first prize for sure.”

Mariah, who was sitting on the floor at the coffee table eating a bowl of cereal and watching Saturday morning cartoons, looked over at her sister. “Eeew, gross,” when she saw Cory’s state of half-dress. “Her teacher would kick her out of the band for sure.”

“He’s the band director, not the teacher, stupid,” Cory snapped.

Kay turned the newly-hemmed bibbers right-side-out and gave them a quick inspection before tossing them at Cory.

“I’m the one who made the joke, Cory. Do you think I’m stupid?” Kay asked.

Cory shot her sister a dirty look before contritely answering. “No. She just drives me crazy with all the stupid stuff she says.”

Kay frowned. “You know, I’m getting real tired of that word. Genuinely smart people choose better vocabulary or know when not to say anything at all.”

In true teen-age fashion, Cory ignored her mother’s admonishment and busied herself with removing her jacket so she could slip into her bibbers.

“Do you think Dad’s gonna come today?” Cory called out from the bathroom, double-checking her mom’s handiwork in the full length mirror.

“I asked him when he dropped Mariah off last Sunday, and he said he was planning on it,” Kay called back.

Ever since they’d signed the agreement a little less than a month before, Dave had remained steadfastly-cooperative and friendly, even making a point to hang back for a few minutes of conversation every time he picked up and dropped Mariah off. It was surprising since Kay had angrily rebuffed his attempt to negotiate a lower interest rate and reduce his child support payments by pushing Cory to spend the summer with him.

Truth was, after hearing his disparaging comments that day on the street corner, Kay had agonized over whether it was wise to go through with signing the agreement at all. She had always known Dave and Sandy talked about her in denigrating terms; to hear it first-hand was a whole new kind of "ugly." Her humiliation was such she was tempted to invite her old friend, Denial, back to put a comforting spin on the whole distasteful situation. Fortunately, Kay discovered the phony psychological device was no longer effective - which could only mean she really was moving forward. Humiliation wasn't fatal and, banana bread gifts aside, Dave was not, nor would he ever be, her friend again. Getting the agreement signed was the important thing and was in the best interest of everyone involved.

It was ironic now that Kay had finally gotten her wish for a more amiable Dave, she could barely stand to look at him, let alone allow him to chat her up. A recent cancellation of Mariah's weekend visit because of an out-of-town trip, almost caused Kay to do an impromptu jig knowing she wouldn't have to see or talk to him. These days, the only satisfaction she derived from their “relationship” was his adherence to the agreement.

The door bell rang and Cory tore for the door to greet Violet. The two friends stood there, talking a mile a minute, gushing compliments and assessing each other’s level of nervousness. Violet’s mom honked the horn.

“Bye, Mom,” Cory said, starting to close the door. “Wish us luck.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Kay asked.

Cory stood there for a second then snapped-to. “Oh my god. My horn!” She dashed up the stairs and just as quickly returned with her instrument case.

Kay held the door for her daughter. “Be sure to thank Bonnie for me and tell her we’ll bring Violet home after the competition.”

“Mom,” Cory said, drawing out the vowel in a whiny sing-song. “She already knows that.”

“Tell her anyway. We’ll see you later. I know you’re going to do just great!”

“Bye, again.” Cory ran to jump into Violet’s mom’s waiting car.

“Watch your plume!” Kay shouted to her excited daughter.

Kay closed the door and looked at the clock. ”If you’re finished with your cereal, Mariah, turn the TV off, and go take a bath. We have to be ready to leave in about an hour.”

“Can I please finish watching Hannah Montana? It’s almost over.” Mariah whined.

“It’ll be on again next Saturday. You can watch it then.”

Mariah made a face as she picked up the remote and switched off the TV. “Nah ah,” Mariah said. “I’ll be at dad’s next Saturday. Sandy makes me watch Blues Clues with Little Dave. I never get to watch what I want.” The little girl walked over to Kay, threw her arms around her waist and buried her face in Kay’s chest.

Kay lifted Mariah’s chin and looked down into her perturbed little face. “I’ll put in a good word for you next time I see Dad. Ok?” After all, Dave seemed to be going out of his way to be amenable to Kay’s requests and suggestions.

“Ok,” Mariah said. “But I don’t think it’ll do any good.”

Kay pulled Mariah’s arms away and playfully smacked her on the butt. “Get a move on, young lady. We’re gonna go see your sister march.”

* * *

The District Pageant of Marching Bands couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day to hold their year-end competition. Supporters and spectators crowded the stands waiting to be dazzled by Lymon Stadium’s transformation into a giant kaleidoscope of stunning symmetrical formations timed to rousing music selections

Kay and Mariah arrived early enough to find seats at the 50 yard line, but up high-enough to provide a superb vantage point. Brightly-colored uniformed kids rushed this way and that, running scales to tune their instruments as they waited for their cue to line up on the field. The excitement was contagious.

This was Cory’s first band competition. She was a freshman, but a year younger than most of her classmates, having skipped first grade because of her advanced reading and math skills. Even though she had been first chair trumpet in her middle school concert band, Kay was concerned Cory might not be ready for the rigors of marching band; she needn’t have worried. Cory took to it like a duck to water. She told Kay she hoped to be Drum Major by her senior year.

“Mommy, look. I found Cory,” Mariah said, pointing to her sister’s smiling face in the pageant’s glossy program photo. They were busy trying to identify other kids they knew when their concentration was broken by a child’s loud tantrum.

“Lemme go. Me lee lone. I want Riah. I want Riah.”

Kay and Mariah both turned and looked over and up about ten rows to see Dave and Sandy trying to calm a kicking and screaming Little Dave.

Kay had prepared herself for the probability of running into Dave; she never expected to see his wife and little boy. This was the first time she’d seen them together in family formation; it caused little ripples of nausea to rise up from her stomach. She forced herself to swallow the rush of saliva in her mouth, and plastered a friendly smile on her face.

You
can do this
.

She waved hello.

“It’s ok if Little Dave wants to come and sit with us,” Kay hollered up to the fussing boy’s parents. What she really wanted to do was call security and have them all forcibly ejected. Anyway, it was highly unlikely Sandy would allow her precious little child anywhere near Kay’s vicinity.

Not surprisingly, they ignored Kay’s greeting.

Kay turned to Mariah. “Do you want to go up and sit with your little brother?” She hoped Mariah would say no. But the little girl, always happy for any chance to be with her dad, jumped up and side-stepped down the row, carefully avoiding the brush of people’s knees.

Kay watched Mariah until she reached the aisle, then quickly snapped her attention back to the beautiful pictures in the pageant program. She couldn’t bear to see Mariah join her other family. She stared intently at the program’s pages but nothing she was looking at registered. Despite being surrounded by a stadium full of people, Kay suddenly felt completely and utterly alone.

I can’t let them ruin this for me.

To her great relief, the first band took the field and she was glad to have something pleasant to focus her attention on. Kay checked the program and saw it was an entry from one of the smaller high schools in the district. The band was correspondingly-small but they were putting on a big show.

Kay wondered what kind of magic they used to get all these kids to walk and play so precisely, when she couldn’t get Cory to carry her laundry downstairs without dropping half the items on the way. Their deft footwork was mesmerizing to watch. Back, forward, sideways, diagonal. circular - all on the beat to a fabulous medley of Latin music. Unfortunately, someone in the drum line, carrying a set of four drums (that Kay learned later was called a “quad”) lost his footing during their performance of “Turn the Beat Around” and tumbled head-first over his drums, knocking everyone down in the line in front of him.

Kay felt really bad for the kids who had probably been practicing for months, but giggled at the hilarious tangle of arms, legs and band instruments. She decided it might be better if she took her laughing self to the concession stand lest she offend any band member’s parents who might be sitting nearby.

She searched the crowd for Mariah to let her know where she was going and to see if she wanted anything. Kay spotted her several aisles away, supervising Little Dave as he climbed up and down the steps of the stands. The resentful look on her face said it all.

She’s missing the show.

Kay waved and called to Mariah, but there was just too much going on to get the little girl’s attention. Kay decided she’d get Mariah something to eat and drink and then rescue her from her banishment to Babysitterville.

I’ll probably be back before she even notices I’’m gone.

As Kay entered the tunnel that led to the concession court, she was greeted by a deliciously-cool breeze offering penance for the unrelenting intensity of the morning sun. She slowed her pace and moved to one side so she could stop and relish the pleasant flow of soft air without blocking traffic. It turned out to be the perfect spot to get in some long, overdue people-watching.

Kay relaxed and allowed herself to become carried away by all the lively comings and goings. At first it seemed to be a mish mash of chaotic activity. But then Kay noticed the people seem to organize themselves into recognizable categories.

First, were the losers in the “short straw draw” game that designated the food go-fer. They all had the same, put-upon looks on their faces and a large box cradled in their arms. The box consolidated a sizable order of drinks, popcorn, candy, nachos, fries, hot dogs and, the occasional, giant dill pickle.

Then there were the harried moms trying to bribe tired, bored, thirsty, hungry little children into behaving with the promise of their favorite treat.

Next were the teenagers, who never bought anything, but used the food court as a safe place to congregate and feel less awkward in the company of their equally-awkward peers.

Finally, there were the husbands who’d been dragged to the event against their will, escaping to the only place, besides the restroom, they could be alone. These guys walked extremely slowly, taking long, deliberate sips from their drink straws.

A couple of little girls suddenly streaked past, snapping Kay out of her diversion.

Mariah’s probably at her wits end
.

She was about to continue on her way to the concession stand when she someone behind her said, ”How ‘bout that pile-up? Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen to Cory. It’d be humiliating, don’t you think?”

It was Sandy. A haughty smile and deep tan made Sandy’s overly-whitened overbite look more prominent than it probably was. Her pompous demeanor clashed with the sweetness of the embroidered kitty cat sleeping on the bib of her denim jumper.

Kay had imagined this moment countless times. Over the years she had purposely avoided situations where they might have to meet face to face, knowing she’d be subjected to Sandy’s attitude of entitled superiority. Well here it was and, so far, it wasn’t all that terrible. Kay wondered why she’d been so afraid.

“Well, I guess anything can happen,” Kay said with a nonchalant chuckle, “but Cory’s band director has won this competition the last three years in a row, so I’m not too worried.”

“Three years? You don’t say. Isn’t that fascinating?” Sandy said.

The hairs on Kay’s neck suddenly stood up and, instinctively, she knew she’d do well to bring their encounter to a quick conclusion. As casually as she could she said, “I was on my way to get something for Mariah and me to drink. I hope the lines aren’t too long.” Kay made her move, praying Sandy would turn left at the top of the ramp and proceed to the restrooms.