"I want to start over so I care about myself. I want to have friends, real friends, and I want to dress up and go to parties and meet boys and have so much fun I'm sick of it. I want to be normal!" I screamed,
I screamed so loudly that some birds perched on a corner of the roof of the house leaped into the air, crying to one another that this was no place to light on for a late. afternoon meditation. Maybe they'd tell the whole bird kingdom, and not a single one would perch on the roof or even nearby.
I spun on Celia. She had that damn face of understanding. "Normal!" I shouted at her.
She blinked.
"Okay," Brenda said. I turned back to her. "Now I know we're really related."
She didn't bat an eyelash, but the silence that followed was so heavy none of us breathed.
And then she laughed.
And Celia laughed.
And I couldn't help it.
I laughed, too, right through my tears. I laughed harder than I thought possible ever again.
The three of us hugged and then returned to unloading the car, now with a spurt of energy Brenda would call a second wind and I would call a miracle.
13 First Steps
. Brenda left it up to me to decide when I wanted to enter the new school. but Celia thought I shouldn't wait at all. She lectured about how necessary it was for me to let back into the stream of life and not to loiter about thinking constantly of the tragedy. She continually referred to herself and her own similar experiences.
"I don't mean to diminish your personal loss, It's terrible, but it's so easy to surrender to sadness and self-pity." she told me. "They're actually comfortable at this point and safe. You're so vulnerable because you've been so emotionally damaged. It takes very little to hurt you and get you crying, even if it's only crying inside. The only way to build your strength is to get involved in something new, dive right in."
I did start working on my pathetic studio apartment. I picked out some curtains for the windows and some paint to use for window trim. I bought a bright pink, fluffy area rug to put beside the pull-out sofa and then Iwent about washing and polishing whatever I could. I bought some things for the little bathroom. too.
I did most of this after we had zone to dinner at the Memphis Belle. We were all quite hungry, and they had a great menu with so much variety. Celia made a pitch for us sharing a dessert called a Mud Pie, which was chocolate and vanilla ice cream in a graham cracker crust. I looked at Brenda. With Mama gone and Brenda my guardian, I would feel her looking over my shoulder even when she wasn't with me. I thought. She glanced at me and then at Celia before reluctantly relenting, and we did share one. We would have had to share it, anyway, because they were too big even for me. Actually. I ate the least. Celia ate the most, and we left a quarter of it because Brenda ate so little, and I wasn't going to be the one to finish it off.
That night, after we returned from the department store where I picked up the curtains, paint, and rug, all of us were busy unpacking and setting up the new living quarters. Celia had to return to school in the morning. but Brenda was still on family bereavement leave. By midday, however, she had done as much as she thought necessary and decided to attend a late- afternoon class and then go to the special basketball practice for the all-star game. Celia was right about my needing to occupy my time. When we were all together the second night for our first dinner in the new home. I announced that I wanted to register in the morning,
"I don't have a class until ten," Celia said. "I could take her."
"No, they won't let you sign things. I'm her legal guardian," Brenda told her.
Celia agreed, but she looked so disappointed I wondered if I had become a pet project for her, someone on whom she could practice all the psychological theory she had learned.
I was nervous thinking about attending a new school, confronting new teachers and new classmates. My shattering nerves made me tired. It didn't matter that we hadn't replaced the old television set yet and I hadn't bought any new books to read. I went to sleep early. The walls of my little studio apartment weren't very thick. I could hear street noises, muffled but still easily discernible. In a house nearby, someone was practicing playing the trumpet. How different this was from our home in suburbia. I used to dream about living in a big city, but now that I was here. I wasn't that sure. Finally, all of it drifted away, and I fell asleep. I woke to the sound of Brenda knocking on my door to tell me I had to get up, get dressed, and have some breakfast. She had already confirmed the school's address and made the appointment for me. Actually. I discovered. Celia had done all that even before we had arrived.
It was cold and cloudy. I bundled up before running across the yard to use the shower in what I would now call the main house. I chose an oversized black sweatshirt with the words "The Ungrateful Living" on the back because it had been my most popular garment at school, and put on a baggy pair of jeans. It all hid my weight well, although I'd have to wear a mask to hide my chubby cheeks. My hair felt like steel wool when I brushed it. and I didn't put on any makeup, not even lipstick. I was never confident about all that. and Brenda was never any help.
Celia was chatty as ever at breakfast. Brenda was all business, talking about keeping to schedules, setting up responsibilities at the house, and following up what legal work still had to be accomplished after Mama's passing. I didn't eat much. My stomach was gurgling with nervousness.
"For today,I'll take you. and Celia will pick you up," Brenda told me. "Tomorrow and from now on, you can drive yourself."
"I don't mind taking you and dropping you off if you're nervous about driving in the city." Celia offered.
"She'll be fine," Brenda asserted, sounding what I thought was the first discordant note between them.
"Oh. I'm sure she will, but I just thought that..."
"We don't want to become her crutches.'" Brenda emphasized. "And don't give me any psychological logic." she added quickly.
Celia laughed, but it was one of those thin, fragile, china-like laughs that choked up in her throat. She swung her eyes to me and then quickly looked back at her food. I actually felt embarrassed for her.
"Brenda's right," I offered. "I'll be fine."