Island Girl (25 page)
Authors: Lynda Simmons
“You will,” Nadia said more gently than I would have thought possible.
“You’ll really do this for me?” Brenda asked.
“Yes,” I said, my skin already clammy, my legs rubbery. “I’ll do it.”
Brenda screamed and leapt up, wrapping her skinny arms around my neck and hugging me hard. “Thank you, thank you.” She kissed my cheek and dropped to her feet again. “Oh my God, I feel so light, so happy.” She leapt up again, hugging me even harder. “I am so happy!”
Nadia clapped me on the back. “You see, every day possibility for limitless joy.”
Limitless joy. Sounded like the name of a cocktail—something I could use right now.
“We will be like three amigos,” Nadia said, her round face shining, beaming. “Fighting for truth, justice, and really big check. And as sign of good faith, of new beginning, there is no more chart.” She went to the fridge and took down the list of food and measures. Tore it into eight pieces and dropped them into the can under the sink.
“Thanks,” I said.
She gave me her one-shoulder shrug. “You are skinny anyway. How much can you eat?” She motioned us to follow her out of the kitchen. “Now we go for first official business lunch. My treat. I will keep receipt, of course. To claim on taxes.”
“I’m so excited,” Brenda said to me as we filed out into the hall. “You’re doing a very good thing,” she said, and went down the stairs.
“She is right,” Nadia said, putting out a hand to keep me from following. “This is very good thing.” She lowered her voice and came closer. “Like it or not, you are on journey now too. Yoga would be good for you. I will take you some time.”
It sounded more like a threat than an invitation, but I was too numb to argue.
“I know you are scared,” she continued. “Of petition, of streetcar tracks, of everything. But just for today, you do not drink. Tomorrow, maybe. But for today, no. Okay?”
What could I say? I can’t? I won’t? Either way I was screwed. So I gave her a one-shoulder shrug. Said, “Okay,” and watched her go down the stairs to join Brenda.
The two of them stood in front of the door, smiling, laughing, united in their belief that we could make this work on one hundred dollars and blind faith. Romantics just like me, I realized, believing in fairy tales and happily ever after.
They turned and held up their hands in a “What are you waiting for?” gesture.
Scared? Nadia didn’t know the half of it. Still, I felt myself smile as my legs took me down the stairs. And we went through the door together, the three of us laughing and talking as we burst into the sunshine and the clean, fresh air. The midget, the giant, and me.
Sideshow Legal Services, Limitless Joy Our Specialty.
And just for today, I wouldn’t drink.
God help us all.
GRACE
Of all the rides on Centre Island, the swans have always been my favorite. Liz thought they were kind of lame because they weren’t fast like the scrambler or scary like the haunted barrel works. But to me, they were the most beautiful things on the whole Island. Like graceful giants swimming in their own lagoon, just waiting for me to come take a ride.
Each swan is eight feet tall at the top of its beautiful neck and five feet across the middle with a big wide seat between the wings. The motors are electric and really quiet, and those birds are so easy to steer that even a little kid can take a turn with the tiller.
My mom didn’t like to take us to Centre because she knew the people who used to live there and where the old streets were and everything. But Mark grew up on the other side of the bay, so he didn’t think about any of that while we were standing in line for tickets. He just sat on a bench and waited while Liz and I went on all the rides, and he always made sure we ended with the swans.
Liz would start grumbling after less than a minute, but he never made us quit early. Sometimes he’d even hand the operator another ticket so we could stay a little longer, because there was something about gliding across the water, safe between those wings, that always made me smile.
Still does in fact, but I wasn’t heading for the swans when I left the house this afternoon. I wasn’t heading anywhere. I was just getting away from all the sympathetic faces and the soothing voices telling me that everything was going to be okay, because I knew that wasn’t true. How could everything be okay when the last time my mom had been this mad was the day I went to live with Liz—and everybody knew how long she stayed mad that time.
She didn’t believe me when I said that Liz and I were going backpacking in Europe. Even after I showed her the travel book Liz gave me, she just laughed and said that Europe was dirty and overrated, just like the men. And I should stop being silly and get ready for supper.
If she’d been home later that night when Liz came over, everything might have turned out differently. But she was out playing bingo at the clubhouse and Liz said it was a sign. She said that if I didn’t pack a bag and get on the ferry right away, I’d never see anything but the Island for the rest of my miserable life.
I left a note.
Dear Mom, I went with Liz. Love, Grace.
Dear Mom, I went with Liz. Love, Grace.
The next day, she came looking for me. It was summer then too, and I was sitting outside the café that was at the bottom of Liz’s building, talking to a man. I didn’t know his name, but he had a condo on the tenth floor and he bought me a cup of tea because I didn’t drink coffee then. He had two Persian cats and he showed me a picture and said I could see them one day if I liked.
I knew better than to say yes because my mom had taught me well, but she must have thought I’d forgotten because she came up to the table and she said to the man in a really loud voice, “Who are you and what are you doing with my daughter?”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I said. “We’re just having coffee.”
“That’s what you think,” she said, but I was pretty sure it was what the man thought too because I remember the way his eyes got real wide and his mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.
“What exactly are you up to?” she demanded, and people started to stare and the man got up and hurried away without his coffee, which was too bad because the cup was still almost full and he’d said it was good. Then my mom picked up my purse and told me it was time to stop all this nonsense and come home.
She started walking away with my purse, so I got up and followed. “I don’t blame you,” she said when I was beside her, “but if I get my hands on your sister, I may kill her.”
“We were just having coffee,” I said, watching the sidewalk pass under my feet as we walked.
She stopped and put her hands on my shoulders. “Grace, how many times do I have to tell you. Where men are concerned, there is no such thing as
just having coffee
for you. They only want one thing. Do you understand?”
just having coffee
for you. They only want one thing. Do you understand?”
I understood that she was talking about sex. And I also understood that I wasn’t ever supposed to have any, even though Liz had some a lot, and she liked it too. Or so she said.
My mother put an arm through mine and started walking again. “Sweetheart, I understand that you miss Liz, but all this talk of Europe is just pipe-dreaming. You don’t belong there and neither do I. We’re Island girls, you and me. Team Donaldson. Together forever.”
I kept watching my feet. You and me. Me and you. Together forever.
That’s when the words finally came together and I stopped walking.
She almost tripped from stopping so fast, but she didn’t yell. Just cupped a hand on my cheek and said real soft, “I’m sorry this is making you unhappy, Grace, but please don’t worry. We’ll be home soon and everything will be fine again.”
That was the problem. If I went home, nothing would be fine. If I went home, we’d watch a movie and go to bed and get up in the morning and go to work and nothing would change. I’d never see Europe or have coffee with a man, or have sex or even get a chance to figure out if I wanted to, even though I was sure I did. But I didn’t know how to say any of those things without causing a fight. So I did the only thing I could think of—I went limp. Just crumpled on the sidewalk the way she’d showed us so many times at the protests.
Passive resistance, girls. Works every time.
“What are you doing?” She took hold of my arm. “Get up right now.”
I shook my head and tried to go even limper, become part of the sidewalk so she couldn’t budge me.
Like a tree standing by the water
. That’s the song she used to sing when we were little and helping her do the dishes. She’d start singing and waving her soapy hands in the air, and Liz and I would sing the chorus and dance, and those dishes were always done before I knew it.
Like a tree standing by the water
. That’s the song she used to sing when we were little and helping her do the dishes. She’d start singing and waving her soapy hands in the air, and Liz and I would sing the chorus and dance, and those dishes were always done before I knew it.
I couldn’t remember the last time we sang that song, but lying there on the ground with my eyes squeezed shut, the chorus came right back, and I started saying it real soft, over and over again. “Like a tree standing by the water, I will not be moved.”
“Stop embarrassing yourself,” she yelled and that’s when she hit me, hard—the same way she hit me today. “Don’t I have enough trouble without you acting like your sister?”
She pulled my hair to get me to stand up, but I wouldn’t, and finally a lady came over and told her to stop, and my mom shoved her and said it was none of her business.
“You don’t understand,” she said when a policeman came and told my mother to back away. “This is my daughter,” she explained. “She suffers from mild intellectual delay, and she’s run away. I’m trying to take her home where she’ll be safe.”
“Ma’am, I need to you step back now,” the officer said, and his partner took her by the shoulders.
“How dare you!” she yelled, and tried to break free.
She should have known that would only make him hold on tighter. But it wasn’t until he said, “Ma’am, if you do not step back immediately, I
will use
the handcuffs,” that she finally stopped struggling and let him move her back where I couldn’t see her anymore.
will use
the handcuffs,” that she finally stopped struggling and let him move her back where I couldn’t see her anymore.
Then the first policeman got down on his knees beside me. He was kind of cute with blue eyes and brown hair and when he leaned close I could smell peppermint and cigarettes, and I said, “You shouldn’t smoke, you know.” And he said, “You’re absolutely right. Do you smoke?” I shook my head, and he said that was good. Then he started asking me more questions. My name, my address, how old I was. And finally, why was I lying on the sidewalk?
“Passive resistance,” I told him, and he smiled. “Works every time,” he said, and held out a hand. “So tell me, Grace, why don’t you want to go home?”
I let him pull me to my feet. “I want to go with Liz,” I said, and once the words started, they just kept on coming. I told him about Europe and backpacking and all the other things Liz said we were going to do. Then I pointed to her building down the street. “That’s where she lives. On the twelfth floor, in a perfect little jewel box.”
The officer nodded and said I should wait with his partner. And then he told my mother he didn’t see any problem with me at all. I knew what I wanted and where I was going, and I was old enough to decide for myself. And it broke my heart when she started to cry. “Gracie, please,” she whispered. “You can’t do this to me.”
Watching those tears fall on my mother’s face might have been enough to make me change my mind, but suddenly Liz was there, talking to the police, telling them I didn’t have to go home. I could live with her. And when the officer said I could go and Liz tugged on my arm, I didn’t fight, so I guess they weren’t enough after all, which made me cry too, because I’d left my mother there on the street with tears on her face, begging me to come home.
Liz took me shopping for clothes and that night we went out to a bar. I had a Cosmopolitan and we clinked our glasses and toasted the dirty men of Europe. For the first time in my life, I danced with a man I hadn’t known all of my life. A man who held me close and made my head swim and told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and I couldn’t understand how any of that could be bad.
When we got home, I phoned my mom, but she wouldn’t answer. I left a message, but she didn’t call back. Not only was she
being consistent
and
sticking to her guns,
she was mad and she wasn’t going to forgive me for a long, long time. Which is why I was drifting around in a swan by myself in the middle of the afternoon, because who knew how long it would be before my mom forgave me for not canceling those appointments—and I was in no hurry to find out.
being consistent
and
sticking to her guns,
she was mad and she wasn’t going to forgive me for a long, long time. Which is why I was drifting around in a swan by myself in the middle of the afternoon, because who knew how long it would be before my mom forgave me for not canceling those appointments—and I was in no hurry to find out.
Lucky for me, Ryan James was the operator that day because I’d known him since he was born and my mom did his mom’s hair, which counted for more than most people imagined. I handed him a dozen tickets when I got there, and he said they weren’t that busy and I could stay on the swan as long as I wanted. But after two hours, he was starting to look at me funny every time I went by the dock. So I kept as far away as I could, hoping he’d concentrate on the other swans and forget all about the one floating in the shade at the far end of the lagoon.
In fact, I was so busy trying not to look at the dock, I might have missed Jocelyn altogether if she hadn’t hollered, “What is up with you? A person could die trying to find you in this heat.”
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