Miss Scarlet's School of Patternless Sewing (17 page)

“Just because my husband is dark complected and wears a cowry-shell necklace does not mean he is from the islands!” she scolded to the person on the other line. “He’s Mexican American and so are our children!”

Scarlet could tell by the instant shock on Mary Theresa’s face that it was not the principal she expected.

“Oh… Sandra, it’s you, heh-heh,” Mary Theresa said, collapsing into the padded office chair. “Please excuse that outburst… what do you mean I sent you my life-goal list last night? Noooo, it should have been the NorWest PowerPoint presentation…. Yes, everything is fine here…. I’ll e-mail it right away… um-hm… OK, sorry… bye.”

Enough of the charade,
Rosa thought. She set down the mugs and folded her arms across her chest. “What is going on, Mary Theresa?”

Mary Theresa’s hands trembled as she raised them and covered her nose. She closed her eyes, opened them, counted to three, and sat up tall. “I’m fine. I’m just attempting to adjust to a few small changes in my life, that’s all.”

Rosa, angry, stomped to the family room and picked up her purse. Her only reason for moving to Phoenix was to take the patternless sewing class, not to play games with unstable mothers. She should have listened to Joseph and stayed home. “When you are ready to tell the truth, call me and I’ll just have Joseph drive me all the way back over here. Scarlet, will you take me home please?”

Mary Theresa stood up to stop her, but didn’t know what
to say. It was a defining moment in her life. Would she allow herself to open up or continue holding her problems inside and praying they would be resolved without anyone ever knowing? A tear rolled down each cheek, which Mary Theresa quickly wiped away. She stopped analyzing the situation and opened her mouth to hear what would come out. “It’s so hard to say it out loud…. I need a moment….”

Her intensity made Scarlet uneasy, so she reached out and rubbed Mary Theresa’s arm. “Hey, there. Whatever it is, we’re on your side. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Let it out.”

They all paused to give Mary Theresa time to take a breath.

“My husband left me,” she finally admitted through a weary but polite smile. “And—I’ve been demoted at my job. And—I almost poisoned my son this morning. And—both my kids think they are African American because I haven’t paid enough attention to them to even teach them their own culture.”

“Oh, dear, let’s go sit.” Rosa sighed as she put her arm around Mary Theresa’s back. They made their way to the monstrous tan sectional couches and sat, where Mary Theresa broke down and continued to share her recent shortcomings while sobbing.

“Basically, after a lifetime of devotion and hard work, the only task I’ve been able to accomplish with any degree of success is assembling a synthetic replica of my torso made from duct tape and a fifteen-dollar bag of Poly-Fil. I’m a horrible wife and mother. I don’t know if Hadley is going to come back; I pushed him to his limit. And my family or neighbors or coworkers can’t know about any of this. I’m so tired of living a lie; it’s depressing. And crippling.”

The women sat down on either side of her and let Mary Theresa cry it out.

“We have all day to talk, right Scarlet?” Rosa asked. Scarlet agreed and picked up the stack of child-rearing manuals,
worksheets, and DVDs that were on the coffee and end tables and set them on the floor, out of sight. Rosa found the DVD of Pixar’s
Up
and put it in the machine while Scarlet headed to the kitchen for snacks. Ten minutes later she emerged with a heavy tray overflowing with treats.

“Forget the tea; we need the hard stuff. I made popcorn and root beer floats,” Scarlet said, handing a tall, frosty mug to Mary Theresa and then one to Rosa. “We’ll go with you to pick up the kids and we’ll smooth this business all out.”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Mary Theresa said, breathing heavily, holding her chest. She paused when she spotted a gleam on the wall. She traced where it came from to find a black sparkly cocktail ring on the carpet.

“Oh my God, I knew it. He’s cheating on me. He had a woman over here,” Mary Theresa said as she bent down to pick up the bejeweled evidence. She held it up like a trophy. “It figures his mistress would be tacky enough to wear this cheap piece of tin!”

Rosa politely pried the ring from Mary Theresa’s angry grasp and slipped it in the pocket of her chunky red sweater. “It’s mine. I’ve lost a few pounds recently and it must have slipped off.”

“Oh, Rosa, I’m sorry. See? I’m a lost cause. I’m despicable.”

“That ring is gorgeous,” Scarlet whispered to Rosa. “Anyway, Mary Theresa, I know where to start. And your answer will decide where you go from here. But you have to be honest with yourself. Can do you that?”

“I think so.”

Scarlet cleared her throat. “Do you
love
Hadley? I mean deep in your heart, stomach-tingles-when-you-bump-into-him-by-accident kind of love? Or are you in love with the convenience of having a domestic partner?”

“The first one,” Mary Theresa said confidently. “But I never showed him that side of me, because I didn’t know it was there. I got so wrapped up in work and the bills. I took him for granted. I’d trade all of it to bring him home.”

Mary Theresa spent the next hour sharing the play-by-play about her marriage history, while Rosa and Scarlet offered words of support. They all agreed she needed to have faith in her husband and give him space, but at the same time, work on building a new
happy
life for herself and the kids—with or without him.

After all that intense discussion, Mary Theresa began to clear the dishes from their comfort snacks, leaving only the root beer floats. Scarlet used the break to answer a text on her iPhone, and then giggled, her face beaming. Scarlet told them Marco had sent her a link to a funny YouTube video featuring a group of East Indian teens from the ’50s dancing the mambo. Rosa smiled to herself. Whether that boy liked it or not, she was going to school him on some dance moves.

“Scarlet,” Mary Theresa asked. “Do you have a boyfriend? How do you know so much about relationships?”

“Ha! Glad I fooled you!” she replied, putting away her phone. “You know the part I said about being in love with the convenience? That was my former fiancé. He was more interested in my potential tax bracket than me as a person. I thought I was in love with him, but once it ended, that’s when I really came into my own.”

“I think you and Marco would make a cute couple,” Rosa said, suddenly feeling like a matchmaker and clasping her hands on her lap.

“Me too,” Mary Theresa added. “You’re so opposite of each other, yet you seem like a natural fit.”

“I love Marco—as my pal,” Scarlet said. “I don’t know what I’d have done for my sewing class if it weren’t for him. But on a
personal level, we would never work. Plus I overshare on every topic and he hardly says anything. I can never tell what he’s thinking. Besides, the last thing I have time for is dating. But today is about you, Mary Theresa. Just know that you are in control. It’s all how you see it. You can fix all of it.”

Mary Theresa sniffled, lifted a tablespoon of foam from her float, and stared at it. “But how?”

“Let’s start with the African American thing,” Rosa said. “It’s a kicker of a story. The kids will be fine, and it’ll make great table talk years down the road, trust me. Think about what Scarlet said about the patterns in our lives. Nothing is working because you are forcing your life into something it’s not. It’s time to start a fresh pattern that represents right
now
, even if you have to make it up as you go.”

“That’s such a broad statement. I need specifics. Unless it is laid out in list form, I don’t get it,” Mary Theresa said, frustrated.

Scarlet pulled out her iPhone again and tapped on the screen. A moment later, she turned it around to show a website to Mary Theresa. “It’s family night at the Latino Cultural Center. Take the kids so they can see the beauty of their own heritage. Maybe you can enroll Lucy and Rocky in folklórico dancing.”

“And stop putting everything on hold for Hadley,” Rosa added. “Think about your favorite stories when you were their age; share them. Take the kids to the park, find a grassy hill, and take turns rolling down it. Get on their level. Read a book with them. Being a mother isn’t about how clean the house is, it’s about the little moments that make a big impact.”

“Daisy called them Little Victories!” Scarlet said. “I wrote about it on my blog!”

“I get it,” Mary Theresa said hopefully. “You know, I just picked up the latest children’s dictionary. We can work on improving their vocabulary.”

Rosa felt the passion and sincerity in her friend’s intention, but knew she still had a long way to go.

“Why don’t you let
them
choose the book and go along with it?” she suggested.

By now, Mary Theresa had finished the float. It had been years since she had indulged in a frothy, sweet treat. “You know,” she said, setting down the glass on the coffee table, “I have no idea why I felt compelled to call you over, Rosa. Please don’t take offense, but I think it is the wise grandma syndrome. How many grandkids do you have anyway?”

Now it was Rosa’s turn to be taken off guard. “None.”

“None?” Scarlet and Mary Theresa repeated in unison.

“But I’ve helped raise many children as if they were my own. I’ll tell you about it sometime, but not today. I’m feeling a little winded. I think I need to get back home.”

“Of course, Rosa, thank you for coming over and cheering me up. I feel empowered,” Mary Theresa said. “My instincts were correct. You certainly were the right one to call. And I’m happy you brought Scarlet. For the first time in my life, I feel like I have friends.”