Flyaway (15 page)

"I think Mindy's been playing mind games with you. That's what's going on, isn't it? She's got you all mixed up so you don't know what you want."

"Mom..." I'm so confused I start to sob.

"Aww, baby, don't cry. See, you do want me to come back, don't you, honey pie?"

Honey pie.
The second she says those words, everything on my Reasons-Mom-Should-Stay-in-Rehab list disappears.

"Yes," I say. "I want you to come home. Now."

For the next two days, I feel like I'm in the middle of a windstorm. One minute I'm laughing and dancing and yelling "Mom's coming home on Saturday!" loud enough for everyone in the world to hear. Then,
whoosh!
A big gust of wind comes by and yanks me in the other direction, and I'm so disgusted at myself for being selfish I want to crawl in a hole and disappear.
Whoosh!
I get jerked one way.
Whoosh!
Back the other way. And when Aunt Mindy purses her lips and says, "Leave it to June to get exactly what she wants," I feel like I'm being blown apart and smashed to the ground.

But finally it's Saturday. The weather has warmed up again, and by noon it's so hot my T-shirt sticks to my back. Mom's bus doesn't get in until 4:48, but I'm already stressing. What do you wear to celebrate your mom coming home from rehab?

I think about wearing the outfit Aunt Mindy bought me, but I know Mom would hate it, so I slip into my old plaid boxers and Hello Kitty tank. Then I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I look like a complete dork. I try on everything I own, but nothing looks right.

Half an hour and twenty outfits later, I decide to go ahead and wear my new gray pants. I pull on the top and adjust the cutout so it hits my collarbone just right. When Mom looks at me, I don't want her to see the same scared kid she left two months ago. I want her to see the Stevie I am now, the one Valerie trusts with the birds, the one who's good at drawings and numbers. I want her to see the Stevie who could actually be somebody.

***

I push my way through the crowded bus station to the waiting area in back. Aunt Mindy's inside at the Starbucks stand, but I want to see Mom the second she gets in.

It finally pulls up, twenty-five minutes late. One by one the passengers straggle off: a tall black lady with a red suitcase, a couple of pimple-faced guys plugged into iPods, a bleary-eyed mom with a baby in one arm and a folded-up stroller in the other.

Then the most beautiful woman I've ever seen steps off the bus. She's wearing tight, faded jeans, and a little pot belly peeks out under a black tank that shouts "Ozzy Rules!" across her chest in big silver letters. Her dark hair billows around her head, and her red-lipsticked smile carves a dimple in her left cheek, daring you not to notice her. Her cheeks have filled out since I saw her in Drake's window, but there are new wrinkles across her forehead and at the corners of her eyes.

I see her spot me and all the sounds and smells of the bus station fade away. I rush to her.

"Mom!"

She sets down her bag and grabs me up in a bear hug. "Hey, honey pie." Her jasmine-and-cigarette smell is exactly like I remembered it.

We hang on for a minute, then gradually the world returns—the smells of coffee and sweat, the sound of ringing cell phones. Mom lets go and steps back.

Just then Aunt Mindy comes strolling toward us. "June," she says with a tight smile, "welcome back."

Mom takes one look at the Starbucks cup in Aunt Mindy's hand. "Regular coffee still not good enough for you, huh?" Then she looks me up and down. "And I see you've been playing Dress the Dolly."

I could kick myself for not sticking with the boxers.

Nobody says a word on the way home. When Mom cracks open the window and lights up a cigarette, Aunt Mindy grips the steering wheel but doesn't tell her to put it out. Even though I'm dying to ask Mom a million questions about rehab, I know she won't tell me anything right now.

Later that evening Aunt Mindy tosses a blanket and pillow onto the couch and says, "I'll let the two of you wrangle over who gets the guest room." Then she heads off to her bedroom and shuts the door.

"I can sleep out here," I tell Mom, then I go change into flannel bottoms and a tank.

But when I come back, she says she's fine with the couch. She slips off her jeans and crawls under the blanket. She tells me to turn out the light, and then, just like I'm hoping she will, she motions for me to join her. I prop myself against the other end of the couch so I can see her face. Our legs twine together underneath the blanket.

She smiles at me and shakes her head. Even in the dim light from the hallway, I can see the sharp outline of her silhouette. "Kind of like old times, isn't it, baby?"

I wiggle my toes against her. I wish I could stay like this forever, feeling the warmth of her legs against mine.

"And you know those plans we were always making? Well, they're starting to come together. I've been talking to this guy about my jewelry business, and he's real excited about it. Wants to set me up with a website and everything."

"Nice. Did you meet him at the rehab place?"

She grunts. "You kidding ? One of those losers ? No, this was a guy I ran into on the bus."

I get a sinking feeling. "But you must have met some cool people there."

She reaches down and squeezes my calf. "Come on, baby, that's in the past. You know me. I'm all about the future."

 

When Mom starts to doze off a while later, I slip out from under the blankets and pad down the hallway to the guest room, where I fall into a restless sleep. Tired as I am, I keep bolting awake with my heart pounding. Three times during the night, I tiptoe out to the living room to make sure Mom is still there.

The fourth time I wake up to check, it's almost six in the morning. Birds have started singing outside the windows, and weak light filters in through the blinds. The heat hasn't cranked up yet, so I throw on my robe.

Mom's still asleep, her dark curls splayed across the pillow. She must have gotten cold, because she's got an extra blanket thrown across her legs. When I move closer I see it's the blue-flowered blanket from my memory. As I cinch my robe at the waist and watch the gentle rise and fall of Mom's chest, I think back to the time long ago when we lived with Aunt Mindy in that little place in Helena, Montana. I remember peeking into the closet and seeing the blanket all folded up. I thought it was so pretty, and I always asked Mom if I could take it out, but she never let me.

Then one day she did take it out of the closet, and she wrapped it around me. I know she did. But the memory is so dim I've always wondered if I made the whole thing up. Seeing Mom asleep under the blanket now, knowing she must have dragged it all the way to rehab and back, I decide I'm finally sure it really happened.

Just like she did to me so long ago, I lean over and kiss her cheek. "Don't worry, Mom," I whisper. "I'll take care of you."

***

Aunt Mindy says we can stay at her place a week or two until Mom gets back on her feet, but after a couple of days I can tell Mom's getting antsy. Aunt Mindy won't let her smoke in the house, so she spends most of her time out on the back deck, even when it rains, smoking and staring into space.

"Did they let you smoke in rehab ?" I ask her late one afternoon, when streaks of pink color the gray sky and light up the jagged ridges of the Cascades. I keep asking about rehab, but she still hasn't told me much.

She takes a drag off her cigarette and waves the smoke away with one hand. "If they tried to take my cigs away, I'd a been out of there in ten seconds flat."

I plop down in the white plastic patio chair next to hers and let my eyes wander over her face, memorizing every line, every shadow.

"What was it like there?"

She shrugs. "You seen one prison, you seen them all."

"But Aunt Mindy said—"

She reaches over and pats my cheek. "Let it go, baby. I'm back, okay?" She stubs out her cigarette. "It's freezing out here. Let's go in and order up a pizza." She winks at me. "Mindy's buying; we might as well make it a large."

 

On Saturday night Aunt Mindy invites Rick over for dinner. She says he's important in my life and that Mom should meet him, but I can't help wondering if she just wants to show him off and rub Mom's face in it.

He's set to come over at seven. Mom sits outside and smokes while I polish the silverware and Aunt Mindy cooks. Every time Aunt Mindy turns her back, I stuff my face with potato chips to quiet the jumpiness in my belly. When Mom comes in, winks at me, and says, "Guess I'd better slip into something uncomfortable," I nearly finish off the bag.

As soon as she struts out of the bedroom, I know there's going to be trouble. She's got on a top so low-cut you can see the head of the mermaid tattooed on her left boob. A pair of the beaded earrings she makes dangle from each ear, and I can smell her jasmine perfume a mile away. But what scares me most are her bare feet—"the sexiest part of a woman's body is her feet," she likes to say—and the look on her face when I let Rick in the front door. He's wearing white pants and a black shirt that shows off his muscles.

"Mom, this is my tutor, Rick."

She holds out her hand and turns on the knock-your-socks-off smile that shows off the dimple in her left cheek, the smile she saves for her customers with money. "June," she says.

He takes hold of her fingertips, and for a second I think he's about to kiss her hand, but then he gives it a gentle shake. "Melinda's told me a lot about you."

Mom's smile sours a bit. "Only nice things, I bet." She turns and calls into the kitchen. "Mindy, your boyfriend's here."

Aunt Mindy rushes into the living room wearing an oven mitt. Her face is pink, and a wispy curl sticks to her forehead. "Hi, Rick. I'm almost done in there. Make yourself at home." She takes one look at Mom and turns even pinker. "June, could you help me for a minute?"

"But I'm entertaining our guest."

"June..."

"All right, already, I'm coming." She stalks after Aunt Mindy.

Rick clears his throat. "You must be happy your mom is back."

"Yeah," I say, but I'm straining to hear what's going on in the kitchen. Finally the two of them come out, Mom carrying glasses and cradling a bottle of wine under her arm and Aunt Mindy balancing a platter of veggies and dip on one hand. They're both scowling.

Rick jumps to his feet. "Here, let me help you with that." He takes the tray from Aunt Mindy, sets it on the coffee table, and gives her a peck on the cheek.

"Who wants wine?" Mom asks. She sets the glasses down next to the veggie tray. "I know I could use some." She fills one of the glasses and takes a big swallow. Then she shoots Aunt Mindy a dirty look, fills a second wineglass, and holds it out to her. "Bet you could use a drink, too." Aunt Mindy snatches the glass and heads back into the kitchen.

Next Mom turns to Rick, who's gone back to his seat on the couch, and gives him that smile again. "And I know you're going to need one." She keeps her eyes locked on his while she fills the glass. When she hands it to him, she leans over so far that I can see the mermaid's tail from where I'm standing. If I were that mermaid, I'd swim the hell out of here.

Then she pours a fourth glass of wine and hands it to me. "And one for you, baby."

Aunt Mindy comes out of the kitchen, spots my glass, and plants her hands on her hips. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I think she's old enough to have a little wine."

"She's only fifteen, June."

"You think I don't know how old my own daughter is?" She nods at me. "Go ahead and drink it, honey pie."

Rick gets up and nabs the glass from me. "I have to agree with Melinda. Stevie is underage."

That shuts Mom up for a few minutes, but then it's the same thing all through dinner. Mom snags the seat right next to Rick and keeps leaning in and showing off her mermaid while Aunt Mindy fumes at the head of the table. I'm scared to peek underneath. Mom's probably trying to play footsie with him, too.

Finally we make it to dessert. It's Aunt Mindy's chocolate mousse, which is heaven on a spoon. Rick tastes it, closes his eyes, and says, "Melinda, you've outdone yourself."

Mom licks her spoon and says, "Mmm. Better than sex." Then she winks at Rick. "Well, almost."

I set down my spoon. Maybe it's those chips I ate earlier, but I'm not really hungry anymore.

Aunt Mindy pushes her chair away from the table. "Okay, June, that's it. I'm not going to sit here and be made a fool of."

"Oh, come on. I'm just trying to lighten things up."

"You can go spread your sunshine somewhere else. I want you out of here by tomorrow morning."

Rick glances at me. "Melinda, let's give it some—"

"If anyone wants me, I'll be in my room," she says, and then heads down the hallway.

Rick puts his hand on my arm. "Let me talk to her." Then he goes after her.

That leaves me and Mom at the table. She scoops up another spoonful of mousse. "This stuff is to die for. And so is your tutor, by the way."

"I told you, he's going out with Aunt Mindy."

"That won't last." She laughs and cups her hands under her boobs. "He needs a woman who's got a little meat on her."

"Mom, don't. They're happy."

The second it's out of my mouth, I wish I could take it back. Mom slams down her spoon. "Well, isn't that nice. Of course we want Mindy to be happy. She's skinny, she's swimming in dough, but that's not enough. Oh, no. We've got to make sure she's happy, too."

"She's not 'swimming in dough,' Mom. And she works really hard."

"Oh, so now you're defending her?"

"No, I just—"

"She's always been on my case to hand you over; well, maybe I should. Maybe I should let you stay here so she can jump for friggin' joy."

"I don't want to stay here."

She pushes her chair away from the table and stands. "She thinks she's doing me a big favor, letting me sleep on her precious couch. Well, I've got other places I can stay." She heads for the living room. "You want to stay here and play Happy Family with Mindy, fine."