e of Mom’s epic shopping trips. You’ve shirked the duty long enough. It’s time to pay your dues.”
I could hear Mom’s sharp intake of breath behind me. “Jacob,” she chastised.
A snort of laughter left me. Maybe it was a tasteless joke, but it felt so right in that moment. It felt normal.
Jacob gasped, doing an almost dead-on impression of Mom. I reacted immediately. My body shook uncontrollably from laughter to the point where my side ached.
“See, just lightening the mood, Ma. If this party became any more somber, I’d have to start whistling a funeral march,” Jacob said as Mom slapped his arm.
Five hours later, I could see why he had ducked out. Shopping with Mom was not for the faint of heart. It was like running a marathon. That being said, I couldn’t remember a time when I’d had so much fun. It was surreal to think that everything we purchased was for me. I tried protesting at one point, feeling Mom was going overboard, but she wouldn’t have it. “I have ten birthdays and Christmases to make up for. Don’t burst my bubble,” she said, dipping a tortilla chip into our dish of salsa. We stopped to recharge and fuel up at a cute little Mexican restaurant Mom had suggested.
Eating out at a restaurant was a new experience for me. The small establishment was buzzing with crowded lunchtime activity. I found myself too preoccupied with looking around at the sights and eavesdropping on conversations at other tables to eat much. It was another everyday ritual that most people took for granted that I had only read about in books. Now that I was experiencing it, the words and flowing paragraphs I had read could no longer give the experience full justification.
I no sooner sucked down my first Coke when our waitress instinctively returned with a brand-new glass, filled to the brim. My old glass was swept away like it was no big deal. After using the same exact dishes, day after day for years, it felt a bit unsettling although I couldn’t show it.
I turned my attention back to our table, finding Mom watching me adoringly. I had already come to recognize the misty look in her eyes. She took a sip from her drink before speaking. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for the last ten years,” she said. “I missed you terribly, Mia. I’m so sorry I missed so much of your life. It breaks my heart that I wasn’t there to soothe you when you needed me most.”
I looked down, rubbing my finger over the wood grain pattern on the table. “I thought you guys didn’t love me anymore. Judy told me you gave me away because I was sick.”
She released a half-sob and reached for my hand. “Sweetie, the only sick one was her. I’m sorry she made you believe that. I could kill her for what she did to you.”
I jerked my head up, horrified by the thought. Surely she didn’t mean that. My teeth bit down on the soft flesh inside my mouth until I could taste blood. It was soothing.
Mom misread my reaction and squeezed my hand tightly. “I’m sorry, honey. I know you don’t like to talk about her. I just want you to know that monster will pay for what she did to you.”
Monster? I shook my head. Judy wasn’t a monster. The monster lurked inside her. It wasn’t Judy’s fault that my actions had provoked the monster time and time again. I opened my mouth to defend her but abruptly slammed it shut. I didn’t want Mom to know about all the bad things I had done. I wasn’t ready for her to look at me with disgust or hate like Judy had. I was determined to be the good daughter this time. To step into the role my Mia had created. I could be perfect.
After lunch, Mom’s last surprise was to drag me into a bookstore where she insisted that I pick out anything I wanted. I stood in the middle of the store, completely overwhelmed. I had read hundreds and hundreds of books in my life, but that number seemed insignificant while standing in a bookstore boasting a selection of millions of titles. It took a while to find the section of books I preferred and even longer to choose anything. Truthfully, I wanted everything I laid my hands on, but disciplined myself to only a few until, at Mom’s urging, my stack had grown to twenty titles. I spent over an hour mulling over my stack, adding a few titles, only to put them back again when I would stumble upon another title I thought I wanted more. Mom sat patiently, never once rushing me along. Finally, I managed to whittle my stack down to the books I wanted most. Mom followed behind me to the register, but I didn’t notice until she plunked down her own stack on the counter that she had grabbed all the books I showed interest in, but had discarded to keep my stack under control. I tried to protest again, but she only smiled as she handed over her credit card that had to be worn out from use.
25
IT TOOK six trips to carry in all my new belongings. The only thing that stopped Mom from continuing to shop was that we had run out of room in her car. As it was, some of what we purchased still had to be delivered, like the matching bookshelves and an oversize chair I had picked out that would be perfect for reading. Two of the bags in the car held all the brand-new books that would soon fill my shelves.
Jacob grunted, carrying the heavier bags up to my room. “Did you guys leave anything in the store?” he teased, placing the bags on my dresser.
I grinned sheepishly. “I tried to say no but—”
Jacob held up his hands to interrupt me. “Believe me, I understand. If you remember, I tried to warn you. I used to hate going back-to-school shopping with her. She’d drag me to one department store after another and make me try on hundreds of shirts and jeans, but only actually pick out a couple before dragging me to the next store to start the process all over again.” He sank down on the foot of my bed, shaking his head. “And don’t even get me started on the horror of shoe shopping.” He shuddered dramatically for effect.
I laughed at his description, but truthfully I had enjoyed shoe shopping almost as much as I had book shopping. The pair of shoes Mom brought to the hospital for me was the first pair I had ever owned that weren’t slippers. Since I never left my basement room, Judy never provided anything more. I accidentally let that fact slip to Mom who then took the revelation as a challenge. I now had eight pair of shoes that were all mine. When I would ever wear them all was of no concern to Mom. She assured me that a wide selection of shoes was essential.
“Let’s go get the rest of your bags and then I thought later I’d take you out with some of my friends, if you’re not too tired,” Jacob said, pulling me up from the bed.
I gaped at him. “You want me to meet your friends tonight?”
“Sure. You start classes on Monday, so Mom and I thought it might be easier to meet a few people beforehand. Don’t worry, they’re all cool. They just want to meet you. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
I twisted my hands nervously. Reluctantly, I agreed although I had serious anxiety about embarrassing Jacob in front of his friends.
He ruffled my hair. “Trust me. I got your back.”
His words meant a lot, but I was still nervous about starting school on Monday. It made sense that meeting some people ahead of time would make it easier. I was just terrified that no one would like me.
I was able to forget my apprehensions when Mom and I began setting up my room. She let me dictate everything, saying it was my room after all. We hung up some of my new clothes in my closet and neatly folded the rest before storing them in my dresser drawers. My books were stacked on my dresser until my bookshelves arrived, but I already had them in the order I wanted to read them.
Mom helped me dress out my bed in a new deep purple comforter with matching skirt, sheets, and pillowcases. I picked it because of how soft it was to the touch. The lamps added to my side tables and throw pillows in accenting lighter shades of purple tossed at the head of the bed completed the look. We took a step back, admiring our work. With those small touches, the room was transformed.
Originally I had balked when Mom insisted on buying the half-dozen throw pillows that graced the top of my bed. Just like the shoes, I thought she was being overly extravagant. The twin bed I slept on for the last ten years had exactly one thin pillow with a white case that always smelled harshly of bleach. Judy was methodical about washing my bedding once a week.