The Big Picture (20 page)

At this I can smile. “Whatever.”

“I won’t.” She pats her sunshine yellow hair. “Since the remodel on my apartment has been delayed
again
, I can enjoy all the space of your room all to myself. Have a few more sleepovers. Hang my pantyhose up wherever I want.”

“You’ll be missing my shoe collection by tonight.” But I did leave her my newest pair of Pumas. I stuck them under her pillow, along with a letter telling her that along with Frances, she’s my best friend. And instructions on how to run the DVD player in our room. Her room.

I left James and Millie letters too.

Rocky got nothing. Good riddance.

An hour and a half later James pulls the truck into a mobile home park. We drive past the sign that says Happy Meadows. I glance out the window — rows and rows of trailers, a few dumpsters, some apartments across the street, and a rundown Quickie Mart. Where’s the meadow?

And where’s my happiness?

I’m coming home to my mom. Shouldn’t I be excited? Content? Feel oh-so-complete?

Instead I feel oh-so-gonna-hurl.

And I need to tinkle. Again.

Millie unfolds a piece of paper and reads it to James. “Turn on Trail View, then on Wingard. Number sixteen.”

We wheel into a small gravel drive, pulling up next to a beige single-wide trailer. A few stray cats scatter from the wooden steps leading to the trailer as James gets out and opens my door.

“Here we are,” Millie says, her eyes fixed on mine.

Yes, here
we
are. Here’s where I’ll stay, and you’ll leave.
God, help me to keep it together and not totally break down when they drive away.

As everyone else heads to the back of the truck to retrieve my stuff, I’m pulled toward the trailer, where I simply stand in front of it. And stare. And remind myself to breathe.

And my mom flings open the door. “Katie!” She scrambles down
the steps, knocking a bowl of kitty water to the ground, and races to me.

I’m engulfed in a hug, Bobbie Ann Parker’s twiglike arms circling around me as I bear my weight onto my crutches.

“Hi, Mom.”
This is right, isn’t it, God? This is where I’m supposed to be? Granted, I think I cut out my heart and left it in In Between, but here with my mom — it’s gotta be right. Right?

She takes a step back, her hands on my shoulders, and just looks at me, a smile turning up her mouth.

This is probably where I should be telling her how happy I am to see her, how glad I am to be back “home.”

But I can’t find the words. Can’t make them come out.

It’s not like she and I have talked much over the last year and a half. Even in the last month, she’s barely called. And when she did, it was just to give me updates on her progress to pass on to James and Millie. She didn’t even ask how my finals went or if I passed my summer school class. Or how I felt about all of this. My mom doesn’t know my best friend is Frances, James sneaks me Oreos at least once a week from his private stash, science is my worst subject, and my favorite color is now green.

And my ankle hurts like a semitruck is sitting on it. Or Rocky. Same difference.

“Hello, Bobbie Ann.” Millie rests a small suitcase beside me. Her hand moves in small circles at my back as she stands next to me.

“Looks like you must’ve packed an entire Wal-Mart store.” My mom laughs as she surveys my three suitcases and five boxes. “That’s a lot of stuff.” She casts a worried glance my way.

“A girl needs her necessities.” Maxine rests an elbow on my crutch and flanks my other side. “I’m sure you’ll find the room. If not . . .”

“Mother,” Millie warns.

“Where would you like me to put all this?” James heaves the last bag onto the steps by the door.

My mom toys with the edge of her
AC/DC
T-shirt as she looks at
each one of us. “Um . . . why don’t we go in and put her things in her room and sit for a bit?”

I know my mom can’t wait for the Scotts and Maxine to clear out.

And I don’t want them to leave.

Maybe I could talk James into leaving Maxine.

The inside of Mom’s trailer smells like stale cigarette smoke and vanilla air freshener. She shows James into my room, and I don’t even bother following. I collapse into a faded blue chair as if sitting for the last four hours in that truck hadn’t been enough.

I raise my head and find Maxine and Millie both studying me. I force a smile and hope it looks real. I am an actress after all.

“You okay, Katie?” Millie takes a seat across the small living room.

“Oh, sure.” More smiling. “Fine.” Mouth hurting.

Maxine snaps her gum. “Know what’s going to get me through all this?”

I shrug. “Ben and Jerry’s?”

“Um . . . okay, know what
else
is going to get me through?”

“I dunno.”

“The GOG, baby.” She nods sure and slow. “The GOG.”

I can’t help but smile. The grace of God. Yep, I’ll have a double order of that, please.

My mom and James reappear, Mom chattering away. “So we’ll get her all enrolled in the high school here for this fall.” She swoops her faded red hair into a ponytail, tying it off with a rubber band from her wrist. “Guess what the Middleton mascot is, Katie?”

“I don’t know.” Couldn’t get any worse than an In Between Chihuahua.

“A muskrat.”

I stand corrected.

“How about we help you unpack and get you all settled?” Millie’s voice is hopeful.

I shake my head. “No. I’ll do it later.”

“We thought maybe we could all have lunch somewhere together.”
James stands in the kitchen area, which is open to the living room.

“There’s not a restaurant for miles. Well, there’s a hamburger joint, but it’s closed on the weekends.”

Maxine and I trade glances. Me without easy access to fast food? This does not bode well.

“But I made a casserole and a cake last night. I was going to save it for tonight, a little celebration for me and Katie.” My mom plays with the silver ring on her right hand. “I guess we could eat it now.” She doesn’t look very happy about the idea.

“That would be great.” I smile, though secretly I worry about my mom’s cooking. A casserole? Since when could she even decipher a recipe? “You guys can stay, right?”

Millie watches my mom. “If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“It’s fine.” Mom’s unenthusiastic response tenses my shoulders. “I’ll just preheat the oven. Katie, would you like to join me in the kitchen?”

James helps me out of my chair and back onto my crutches, my instruments of pain and torture. I step into the kitchen as my mom opens the fridge.

She whispers low. “I know this is hard for you — ”

“Do you?”

Bobbie Ann’s brows snap together. “Don’t take that tone with me. I’m your mother,” she hisses. “I’m your family.” She points toward the living room. “Not them.” Mom pulls out a covered dish, places it on the counter, then inhales deeply. Her face calms. “I know you think a lot of those people.”

Um, kinda love them and stuff.

“And I’m grateful to them for all they’ve done. But I’ve waited a long time to have my daughter back.”

“Mom, I want us to all have lunch together. It will be my last chance to be with the Scotts and Maxine for a while.” At her frown I add, “And it will give you a chance to get to know them better.” I lift the foil on the casserole. “What is it? Smells good,” I lie. Smells . . . funky.

“Tuna casserole.” Her face splits into a grin. “It’s gonna be good.”
She ruffles my hair then shoves past me to turn on the oven.

I hate tuna. I’ve always hated tuna.
This
was the special dish she prepared just for me? Some mayo, some chips, some noodles, and pieces of the stinkiest fish ever to come out of the ocean? My mom wanted to commemorate my homecoming with smelly fish?

An hour later, I help Millie clear the table of the paper plates as my mom continues to avoid Maxine’s relentless interrogation.

“I don’t know who Marlena is, I’m sorry Mrs. Simmons. She sounds like a real nice lady though.”

Maxine continues to grill my mom, evaluating her worth based on her knowledge of daytime television.

“No, I don’t watch
The View
, so I wouldn’t know if Barbara Walters got her eyes done this year or not . . .”

“I think I would like for you to help me unpack, Millie.”

My mom stops mid-sentence, her hazel eyes snapping to me. “I can help you.”

“I know. But if we all worked together, it would get done quicker.” And keep my In Between family here longer. “My ankle is bothering me today.”

“Oh.” My mom puts our Dixie cups on the counter and straightens. “Well, let’s get started then, huh?”

“That reminds me.” Millie sashays back into the living room for her purse. “I wrote down some instructions for Katie’s ankle. She’s not out of the woods yet, and so I wanted you to have the instructions. Like now” — Millie holds up her list — “is time for her Advil. And next week she has an appointment with a Doctor Bernard here. I made the appointment myself. He’ll need to check her progress. I’ve already had her file faxed to him.”

The clock ticks in the kitchen. Bobbie Ann stares at Millie for a few tense seconds, her mouth in a grim line. “Thank you.” She clears her throat and forces a smile. “I appreciate the help. I will be sure and get her to the doctor, of course. I wasn’t going to neglect her.”

“I didn’t think you would.” Millie hands her my instructions. “I
simply didn’t want to take any chances with her ankle.”

My mom nods and lays the paper down on the counter, next to what’s left of the tuna casserole.

“Okay, let’s go unpack.” I look between the two ladies. “Come on. I’m getting tired.” Tired of the tension.

With Maxine still quizzing my mom on totally irrelevant facts, the four of us women walk to the back of the trailer and into my room.

My heart stops a beat.

My eyes tear, and I quickly dash at them with my hand. Why did I think I would walk in here and it would look just like my bedroom at the Scotts? My stuff is all here. I’m here. But this isn’t it. By a long stretch.

Ivy printed wallpaper covers the walls in the small room. A twin bed takes up most of the space. My mom has a tan comforter on the bed and a single white pillow. Over the bed hangs a poster of Orlando Bloom.

“Welcome home, Katie!” My mom squeezes my shoulders. “This is your new room! What do you think?”

I think I want to be someone else. Someone who isn’t torn between two homes, two families.

Someone who isn’t uncertain of every breath of her future.

Chapter twenty - three

“I GUESS WE’LL GO.”

Three hours later, my In Between family is ready to leave. Ready to leave me.

We’ve had a tour of town. (
So
not impressive. Smaller than In Between, which I didn’t even know was possible.) We’ve eaten mom’s version of homemade cake (Duncan Hines), rearranged my room (I now want the bed on the left . . . no, the right), and as a last stalling resort, I made Millie help me organize my underwear by color.

My mom shakes hands with everyone then with a glance at me, walks toward her bedroom.

“Walk us out, Katie.” James curls his arm around my shoulders, and we follow Millie and Maxine into the yard.

Where we dissolve into a group hug.

I cling to these people like they’re the last life preserver on the
Titanic
.
Don’t leave me
, I want to say.

But I know I can’t.

Moments pass and finally we pull away.

“You’ve got your cell phone, so we’re just a call away. Anytime.” Millie tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. When I see her eyes fill, my throat closes.

James digs into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. The one I got him for his birthday a few months ago. “This is for you. It’s for emergencies.” He hands me a credit card. “Just in case there’s ever anything you need.”

I sniff and swipe a tear. “Like some iPod accessories or a new purse?”

“Not quite what I had in mind.” He tweaks my nose. “You’ll know when and if you need to use it.” In other words, if my mom forgets to buy me food or other important things. Like deodorant.

“Here’s some cash too.” Maxine stuffs a bill in my hand. “Some Diet Dr Pepper money.” She winks then blows her nose into a tissue. “Woo! Allergies are bad out here.”

“We love you, Katie.” I look into the eyes of my foster mom — the woman whose love I didn’t want. But now I can’t imagine life without it. “This is not good-bye. We’ll visit. You’ll visit. I talked to your mom about spending Fourth of July with us, and she wasn’t too keen on the idea. But we’ll work on it. And there’s Chihuahua Days that next week. When we celebrate our mighty mascot. You’ll have to come for that weekend.”

“Just don’t forget me, okay?” Though I laugh, I am
so
not kidding.
Please don’t forget me.

“Forget you?” Maxine chortles. “Sweet pea, you’re like mold. Just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it ain’t there.” She smacks me on the butt then pulls me close. “Better not be anybody else putting their hands on your tushie, you got it?”

I nod and cling like a dryer sheet on pantyhose. “You patch things up with Sam.” I raise my head and stare her down. “That man loves you, and you love him. Quit making it complicated. This isn’t
Days of Our Lives
. So quit being a drama queen; tell him you’re sorry and you want him back.”

Maxine sticks out a hand. “Like whatever.”

James swabs his glasses with his shirt. “Why don’t I pray — for all of us.” We gather into a circle again, arms and hands connected. My head
on Millie’s shoulder. My heart somewhere back in In Between. “God, we come to you now . . . hurting and rejoicing. We are a family, Lord.”

My chest shakes as the tears rise.

“We grieve over the separation from Katie, the daughter of our heart.”

A sob escapes my mouth, and I am powerless to stop it. I’m pulled in tighter to the circle.

“But we know this is your plan, and we wait with anticipation and faith to see where you are leading Katie. Where you are leading this family. God, we pray for strength for Katie. For wisdom. And for growth. This is a hard time for her, and we pray she will fix her gaze on you and grow as a child of a king. We pray for healing in her relationship with her mother . . .”