The Kitchen Shrink (19 page)

She began crying again as tears spurted out of my eyes.

“Mom. A lot of my friends cut themselves and I wanted to try it. But I only did it once. I promise, I won’t ever do it again.” She put the blade back in the box and handed it to me.

“Why? Nicole?” I took the box, my hand shaking.

She kept crying as if my heart would break.

“I can’t explain it. It felt good,” she finally said.

“Oh, baby.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“I hope not.”

“Don’t cry, Mama. I won’t do it ever again.”

“How does that feel good?”

“I was just angry and upset one day and I did it and it made me feel better.”

“I don’t understand how hurting yourself feels good.”

“It was weird, mom. I can’t explain it. It was like a big swoosh of something.”

“Like power? Making you feel like you were in control or something?

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I can’t describe it.”

“Honey. Why didn’t you come to me?”

She shrugged again.

I felt the tiny razor shredding my heart.

I pulled her to me, inhaling the sweet smell of Pink Sugar vanilla body spray mixed with her own fresh, innocent skin. “Promise me. Never again, Nicole.”

“I promise, Mom.” She had stopped crying and even seemed relieved.

“You look better already,” I said, trying to stare deep into her eyes.

“I feel better,” she said, wiping her nose with the back of her wrist.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Ryan asked from the doorway.

Nicole’s eyes got big. “Don’t tell him,” she whispered.

“Nicole, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. He’s your brother. I think he should know.”

She glanced over at Ryan and looked down at her hands.

“Nicole’s been feeling really sad, and she was cutting herself.”

“What?” Ryan said. “That is so stupid.”

I know my boy well enough to know he meant that to be supportive. Funnily enough, so did Nicole. She didn’t react.

“Why?” He looked as uncomfortable as when I made him stick around for the ‘what happens when women get their period’ talk. Nicole and I always joked we could make his ears turn red simply by saying the word ‘vagina.’

“I was just feeling really bad,” she said.

I looked at him. “Have you ever thought about killing yourself?” I asked him.

“No!”

“Well, Nicole and I were talking, and if you ever do, or any of your friends, please, please talk to me or someone to get help.”

He rolled his eyes. “Uh. Can we change the subject? Maybe you’d like to give us the ‘don’t do drugs’ talk again. Or, wait. I guess we should be having that talk with you.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I was still mortified.

Nicole actually giggled. “How about the ‘you can have a lot of fun without having sex’ talk?” she added.

“I prefer the,” Ryan thrust out his lower jaw like a crazed piranha and scrunched his eyes nearly closed, I guess he was trying to imitate me when I was really angry, “Watch your mouth, mister. Words have power.”

“Sweet. Thanks. I don’t do that,” I said. I leaned over and kissed Nicole again, and I stood up and reached up and smacked a kiss on Ryan’s cheek, too. “I’ll order pizza.” They both gave a nearly imperceptible nod, which on Planet Teen means hip-hip-hooray and all was well with their world.

I wish a pizza could soothe me like that. I felt like I swallowed an extra multi-vitamin, on an empty stomach. But then again, I felt like that a lot.

After dinner, Nicole actually let me tuck her in and I told her, “Open doors for a while, OK?” She smiled at me, and I ran to my computer, got on the Internet and called Brett.

“Oh.” I heard the air leave his chest like he had been punched. “My poor baby,” he said.

“I know. I’m going to take her in for a check-up. I’m pretty freaked out, but I remember going through tough times growing up and thinking about dark stuff. I don’t mean to make light of what Nicole is going through, but I think she also is PMSing, I know this whole TV show has been hard, then there’s you, me, and just being a teen.”

“Yeah. Times are tough. They’re exposed to so much. She seemed OK the other night. I’ll talk to her.”

“Good.” Brett was never at a loss for words. In fact sometimes Ryan told me, “just punish me now so I don’t have to listen to Dad’s lecture.” I always told Brett not only did he beat a dead horse, he churned out the glue.

“Nicole made me promise not to tell anyone, but I told her I was going to talk to you about it. Anyway, she actually seemed fine tonight. I think she was relieved to tell me.”

“Thanks for telling me. I know depression is part of the teenage years, but I just don’t get girls.”

“No, you don’t,” I said. “Do you remember ever getting so depressed?”

“If I did, it never lasted long,” he said. “Crazy hormones,” he added.

“I know.” I was so sad for my daughter and didn’t know how to make it better.

Back in the salt mine, the crew had finished painting the kitchen and doing all the touch ups. I did my bit on camera and let them at it. They had removed all the tape and plastic, so here it was in its flame red gory. It was gruesome.

“Can you believe this?” I said to Sam. Elgin had already gone. He knew better. It was so ugly. Maybe the fight with my mom started the ball rolling, maybe the showdown with Elgin in Home Depot helped it pick up steam, and maybe watching my own daughter trying to grow up, bravely, helped me decide. Life is too short to let unimportant things bother me. Besides, I had the power to make changes if I wanted. Even though I learned not to ask what’s the worst that can happen. I waited until the crew left and as Sam was putting away his gear, I beckoned him with my finger.

“What’s up?” he asked.

I just lifted my eyebrows to take in the violence of my kitchen.

“Maybe you’ll get used to it.”

“That’s all you’ve got? Sam, come on. Could you eat a meal in this? These walls are so loud I can practically hear a heartbeat.”

He laughed. “It’s not that bad.”

“‘Maybe you’ll get used to it’ and ‘it’s not that bad’ are what people say about a haircut that will grow out someday. This isn’t going anywhere. It’s only going to get uglier.”

“So what are you thinking?”

“I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.” I held up my hands for proof. “I’m going to repaint. Tonight. If you want to film me, you’re more than welcome. Or, you can just come back tomorrow and shoot the look on Elgin’s face.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Come on, I’ll take you to another Home Depot, where you don’t have a reputation,” he said.

Sam was great. He sent Dustin home and I gave my kids money to go get us some sandwiches. Ryan was still trying to suck up and get brownie points following his drinking binge, and Nicole, who I’ve been keeping a close eye on, has been on a pretty even keel, and was still loving her belly button ring. Her doctor, who was great, told me to just be there for her and keep talking.

I’d do anything to make her happy, but I couldn’t. Getting her ice cream and letting her stay up late to watch The Little Mermaid didn’t cut it anymore. In the long run, I think she’s a strong girl, and I think she’ll be OK, at least I prayed she would. She is pretty adaptable and really intuitive about people.

‘I’ll love her forever and like her for always, as long as I’m living, my baby she’ll be.’ My eyes welled up, just like they always used to when I read that book to my kids when they were little. They didn’t seem to particularly like that story, but they sure were enthralled when water spurted out of my eyes every time I read it to them. I miss those days when my biggest worry was making sure they had sweet dreams.

My kids didn’t share much with me, but when they asked me questions they knew I’d tell the truth. I’m hoping that helped them be truthful with me; on the important things, at least.

Maybe with all the drama that had been going on around here, I might even get them to help me paint.

On the way, Sam asked what I wanted to do.

“You know, there isn’t much that goes with teal. I admit, I love the cabinets but they really need a complimentary color, not a clashing, eye-wounding stomach-churning visual explosion. Come on, what was Elgin thinking?”

Sam laughed. “He does take risks, and that’s the catch, sometimes risks don’t pay off. Good for you,” he added, looking over at me with a smile.

I pushed the heaviness off my heart and again tried to be glad Daria had a good boyfriend. I just wish she’d stop hiding it from me.

“You know, I’ve tried to play along on this show and do a good job for the producers. I tried to have input, which Elgin didn’t want, but I guess the line has been drawn in the sand. Or painted on my walls, I should say. I can’t accept this so I’m going to do something about it. What are the producers going to do? Make me paint it red again.”

“What if they tried?”

“I wouldn’t do it. I know I’m right, and if I can get a soft neutral in there, that kitchen will look entirely different, as in pretty.”

Sam walked into the Mira Mesa Home Depot with me and inhaled that deep breath that all guys do upon walking into a hardware store.

I laughed at him. “Ooh, macho man smells tools?”

“I do love this place,” he admitted.

“OK, now you know how I feel walking into a Barnes and Noble book store.”

He laughed. “So, walking in here, you must feel like I feel when I walk into the women’s department at Bloomingdales?”

“Exactly. Out of my league. No interest whatsoever. Get me out of here.”

“Aw, this is a genius store. Here, let me show you.” Sam pulled my hand as we walked down the bathroom fixtures aisle. “Look,” he said. “I put those faucet handles in my bathroom sink at home and it looks really good.”

I nodded. They were pretty. I realized my bathroom faucets could use some updating.

“And, here, I’m thinking of putting in glass shower doors, instead of a shower curtain. Which style do you like best?”

If I had to pick… “I like this one,” I said, choosing a thick clear glass with burnished silver hardware.

“Ah, you have good taste, it’s the most expensive.”

I was picturing it in my kids’ bathroom. “OK, OK, I get it. It’s the Disneyland of home redo fantasies. I didn’t know you were a Mr. Fix-it.”

“Limited. I can only do the basic stuff. But, I like doing it.”

“Onward to paint.” We headed over the paint chips and I found the perfect ivory, that didn’t have too much yellow in it. “I think this will work, but it is sort of plain. I’m thinking of doing a finish over it. I saw this technique on HGTV, where I could put a pearl glaze over it, and it just softens the color and adds just a hint of irradiance to it. What do you think?”

“I think you’re the boss.”

“Sam, come on. Just tell me. We’ve been through this together, I’m not going to be offended.”

“I like it.”

“I like it, too.”

“Red, you don’t say?” The paint mixed at the counter asked me. “You better do primer. I’m telling you. It will dry in fifteen minutes, but save you time in the long run.”

“Ugh,” I said, “this is going to take all night.” Good thing I was hopped on Sudafed, the kind you have to swipe your driver’s license at the pharmacy to get. Housewives need to make fun where they can find it and if post-nasal drip holds the key, so be it. At least my nose wasn’t stuffy, even if my hands weren’t steady.

We got home and I called Nicole and Ryan down. Sam and I gobbled our sandwiches and I told the kids they needed to help, at least for a little while.

“This is ridiculous,” Ryan said. “It’s already painted. Just leave it.”

“Ryan, do you actually like this kitchen?”

He shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Fine as long as you don’t have to do any work. Tell me, what do you think of it.”

“I think it’s pretty cool,” he said. “It looks like a cartoon kitchen.”

“Exactly. Thank you very much for winning my argument.” Nicole has helped me paint some rooms before and liked to paint, at least for a little. I set her to taping off the lower areas, started Ryan rolling on the primer and I started taping off the ceiling, and painting in the cut work up on the ladder. I know, I know you’re supposed to get all the prep done first and do the entire trimming first, but I knew I only had a small window of time with my kids. Sam was moving around the kitchen, getting close-ups of my kids working.

“Mom, I’m done taping,” Nicole said. “I can start with a brush putting the primer on down here.”

“Thanks,” I said. I liked having them help. Ryan was rolling along in big swooping swipes and I knew once he reached the breakfast nook, he’d be out of here. I was right. His cell phone rang and he was off. Nicole stuck around a little longer and helped me get all the primer on, before she left, too.

I opened the gallon can of the ivory paint in an eggshell finish, poured some in my plastic tub and climbed back up on the ladder.

“Do you like it?” Sam asked me.

“Are you kidding? Even the primer looks better,” I said, swiping on a thick creamy layer.

“Just checking,” he said. “I was afraid you picked it because of the name.”

“Well, that did help make my decision easier,” I agreed. “Bingo!” We both said together and laughed. Bingo Beige was a beautiful soft pale creamy mist of color. Sometimes I agonize for days about simpler decisions than this, but this felt right and I went with it without looking back.

I heard Sam cough and looked over. He motioned to me to cover my mic. “How about some drama?” he said softly. When we were getting paint and talking about the show he suggested I whip up some tears for the producers about how my life has been changing.

“There is no way I can cry on cue,” I told him. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a bad actress and a worse liar.”

He merely shrugged and said sometimes when you started pretending an emotion you could really get into it. “You never know what might come out,” he said, “and besides, remember, there’s nothing real in reality TV, so you might as well give them a taste of their own medicine.”