Leo the Lioness (4 page)

For some reason my mother thinks a clean face is a panacea for all ills.

“This is going to be a tough one,” I said when Nina had gone.

“Yes,” she said, sighing.

“Who do you think she will ask as her date?” I said.

My mother shuddered.

“At least I didn't ask her what boy she would take to the dance,” I said. “You've got to give me some credit. I am not completely without tact.”

“No,” my mother said, “not completely.”

10.

I could see that my mother was not going to bring up the subject of the long dress at the dinner table, which was just as well. Nina sat looking like a storm cloud with pink-rimmed eyes, sour as a kumquat. My father was tired and sort of withdrawn, as he frequently is when he comes home from work. He is a vice-president in an advertising agency. He is not
the
vice-president, just one of them, but it is still a pretty important job. However, what with the railroad, which often breaks down and makes him hours late, and the job, he is often somber when he gets home. It is a tough thing to be responsible for the food that our family eats, never mind the clothes our mother buys us. Even without long dresses.

My father makes fun of me for reading my horoscope all the time, but I remember when his said: “You may have been waiting for the sudden break which comes this week; something has to give.”

That Friday he came home all smiles and said he'd been made a vice-president. I hastened to remind him of what his horoscope had forecast and that it was all written in his stars. I also hastened to say, “I told you so.”

We cleared the table and Nina made faces at my mother and mouthed the word “Now” at her. My mother said, “Bring us some coffee in the living room, will you?” and Nina had that coffee going like a shot. She can move pretty fast when it behooves her.

In our house we have a telephone room under the stairs which is not too good for private conversations because there are so many cul-de-sacs surrounding it which are excellent for eavesdropping. But in this case, the telephone room was a boon. From it you could hear everything said in the living room.

“Nina has been invited to a dance,” we heard my mother say.

“That so?” My father sounded sleepy. He probably wasn't really listening. He tunes himself out quite a bit. “A little young for that, isn't she?”

“She's been invited by Charolette Forbes. Her mother's giving her a dance. She has to have a long dress.” My mother's voice was very calm, very matter-of-fact.

“A long dress!” my father said. “We can't afford it, can we? She won't be able to walk in a long dress.”

“I think it will be all right,” my mother said. “She can manage, and there's always Tibb. When Tibb needs a long dress, she can use it, so it's not such an extravagance.”

Good grief! I got clutched up just thinking of me wearing a long dress. That would be the day.

But it seemed to satisfy my father. He said, “Well, if you think so,” and then we heard the television, which meant the conversation was over.

We cleared out of there fast and Nina took the stairs ahead of me two at a time. My mother waited a few minutes and then she came up too.

“I talked to your father,” I heard her say, “and he says you may have a long dress.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Nina said. From where I was in the hall, I could see her lying on her bed. “Thank you and Daddy for letting me go. There is just one thing I would like to know. I would like very much to know who you think I could possibly ask to go with me. Out of the huge group of boys I know, who can I ask?”

Oh, my Gawd!

“How about that nice Nelson boy?” my mother asked feebly.

A gurgling sound came from Nina's throat. My mother shrugged her shoulders. “I know of no one,” she said.

I went into the bathroom to take a shower. But before I got into the tub, I had to remove John's troops. He never takes a bath without bringing all his little men, as he calls them, in with him. They are plastic soldiers, tanks, and boats enough to make the bathroom look like the Spanish Armada has just passed through. Then I turned the water on full force.

I heard the bathroom door open.

“Watch that shower curtain,” my mother yelled. “Make sure it's inside the tub.”

We have lost part of our kitchen ceiling several times due to leaking shower water.

“Mom,” I said, putting my head out, “it's like the eye of the hurricane in here. It's great.”

She smiled and closed the door. When I got out, she was standing on her head in her room. She has been taking a course in yoga at the Y but so far has only progressed to the point where she can stand on her head with her feet propped against the wall.

“Can't you do better than that?” I said. I stood on my head with absolutely no support at all. If I do say so, I am very good at standing on my head.

“That's wonderful,” she said. “But then you're much younger than I am.”

“What difference does that make?” I asked.

After some thought, she said, “I don't really know,” and then she got down on the floor and tried again. She did much better this time.

When she was upright, I asked, “How did things go with Dad? About the dress?” which was hypocritical, seeing as how I already knew.

“Everything's fine,” she said.

“Who's she going to ask?”

My mother put her hand to her forehead. “She doesn't know yet. She will think of someone and when we have that problem settled, we will go to work on the dress. I anticipate more trouble with the dress than with the boy. Boys are a dime a dozen.”

“That's what you think,” I said, but I said it silently because I didn't want to stir things up any more than they were already.

11.

I know you're not going to believe this but this is actually what happened.

The doorbell rang the next morning. Luckily Nina had just gone upstairs, her hair in rollers and some of yesterday's mascara smudged under her eyes. She looked sort of like a raccoon.

I went to answer it. A boy was standing there.

“Hi,” he said. “Is Nina here? I was just passing by and I thought I'd see if she was home.” He smiled at me and it occurred to me that he thought he was oozing charm. He was one of those charm oozers, a real phony.

Behind him, parked in our driveway, was a red convertible. Not brand-new, but shiny. Yeah, just passing by. I knew it was Tiger Jones. It had to be.

“Come on in,” I said. “I'll get her. I'm Tibb. And this is John.” John had egg on his face and his newest lanyard, which was purple and orange, around his neck. He put his hat on. That hat was a sort of security blanket for John. Then he stuck out his hand and said, “How do you do?”

He must've thought Tiger Jones was a grownup. John is very good about saying “How do you do?” to grownups. It always impresses them.

“Hey there, fella,” the boy said. I didn't make that up, he really did say that. John backed off and pulled the hat down over his eyes. John has very good instincts for a boy of seven. He will go far.

“There's a boy downstairs,” I said to Nina. She was standing in front of the mirror, sparkling at herself. This is when you smile a certain way, drawing your lips over your teeth, and if you do it right, you can make dimples. I have done this myself so I know. You can make dimples where there really are none, if you know how. Anyway, Nina's dimples disappeared and she said, “I don't have time for you this morning, little girl.”

“O.K.,” I said, “but there is. He came in a red convertible and he has ‘Tiger' tattooed on his chest.”

“I'll break your arm if you're lying,” she said when she realized I wasn't.

One thing about Nina's and my relationship, we put it on the line.

Like a flash, she rearranged her face, took out her curlers, brushed her hair, put on her new blue jeans, a navy-blue body shirt, and some Blush on her cheeks. She was ready for anything.

“Well, hi,” I heard her say from where I was listening at the top of the stairs. “What a nice surprise.”

Who writes her dialogue, I wonder?

“Mom, this is Tiger Jones,” Nina said. My mother was just coming home from the market, as usual.

“May I help you with those?” This Tiger really was suave. And he had to be at least sixteen, if he was driving. If he didn't have a tuxedo, he could always rent one. He was like a fly being drawn into a spider's web. He had shown up at a most fortuitous moment. One thing. Could he dance?

I went into the bathroom and ran the water until it was boiling hot. Then I filled the basin and put a towel over my head and steamed my face. This is sort of an instant sauna and it is very beneficial. It also shuts out the world. For the nonce.

When I got downstairs, Nina had gone. Tiger had taken her for a ride. That's what
he
thought.

“Did she ask him?” I said.

“She is going to, I guess. I told her to be back by lunchtime. He seems like a nice boy, don't you think?”

“Mom,” I said, “I'm the wrong person to ask. You know I can't face up to anyone who calls himself Tiger. I just can't.”

I sat down at the kitchen table. “I saw Carla yesterday, and she said to tell you she's going to come over soon to see us all.”

“That would be nice. I haven't seen her since Christmas. Is she still seeing that boy?”

“I guess so,” I said.

“He certainly is handsome,” my mother said.

“Yeah.”

Then I heard the mail land on the floor in the hall. We have an old house with a mail slot to the left of the front door and you can always hear the envelopes slide through.

There was another post card from Susan Friend. This one was from Paris. It was a picture of the Eiffel Tower. It said: “Fab, fab, fab. Everyone speaks the most sensational French here. Even the tiny tots. See ya, Sue.”

It was the only laugh I'd had that day and probably, the way things were shaping up, the only one I would have.

I figured if and when Sue got to Switzerland she would send me a picture of the Alps, telling me how fantastic it was that everyone there yodeled so well.

12.

It just so happened that Tiger Jones was free the night of Charlotte's dance. Nina was on the telephone the entire afternoon, beating the drums, telling the tribesmen the news.

I wondered if Tiger had to go home and work his mother and father around the head and shoulders to get their permission to take the car that night, in addition to their paying for a rented tuxedo. Also did he have to tell them exactly when he'd be home?

My mother had to find out who was chaperoning the dance, what time it started, what time it was over, all like that. Nina said Well, if they didn't trust her, she could handle herself, and a whole bunch of other baloney which my mother ignored. She called Mrs. Forbes and, with the phony voice she uses on people she doesn't like, said she thought it was such a
lovely
idea, giving Charlotte a dance, and was there anything she could do, etc.

“They're having it catered,” Nina said in an icy tone when my mother hung up. That was supposed to make mother feel like a peasant, but it is very hard to make my mother feel like a peasant. Like impossible.

“How swish,” she said. “Tell me all about it. Don't miss a thing.”

“Make sure it's chicken in the sandwiches, and not tuna fish, kiddo,” I said. Nina threw her hairbrush at me but unfortunately it fell on the floor and the handle broke, so she had to borrow mine, which I graciously lent her with my sparkliest smile.

Then finally, when it looked as if Nina would have to go to the dance in her underwear, she and my mother settled on a dress they both liked. This may sound like a simple thing, but it was not. It was a large order. I have been shopping with Nina. I know. She always wants things that cost about double what my mother plans on spending and when she finds out she's going to have to settle on a little cut-rate number, she broods. She is a first-class brooder. The air around her sort of turns dark gray and although she does not stoop to weeping, there is a feeling of pent-up emotion that would knock you over. This attitude is quite infectious and puts the kibosh on any pleasure anyone might possibly get from a shopping expedition.

I myself am the type of shopper who goes into a store, tries on two garments, buys one, and leaves.

I imagine I am a salesgirl's dream. That's better than being nobody's.

Anyway, this dress was pretty. It was flowered linen and had ruffles around the neck and hem. It was very simple, which is what made it look expensive, my mother said. It
did
look expensive, and it also did things for Nina's figure, making her look svelte and curvaceous at the same time. That's a lot of things for $29.95.

Her friends started coming in, sort of like vassals coming in to see the liege lord, if you know what I mean. They stood around, humble in the face of magnificence, while Nina took the dress out and turned it this way and that. After much persuading she allowed herself to be coaxed into trying it on. That dress was tried on so many times I figured it would look as if it had come from a thrift shop by the time the dance rolled around. And if I was going to wear it when my day arrived, I would just as soon she quit trying it on. Naturally, I did not voice my thoughts.

The morning of the dance, I cleared out of the house. I wasn't up to the telephone calls, the discussions of how nervous Nina was, how adorable Tiger was, how sensational Charlotte and Charlotte's mother were. It was enough to make a person regurgitate.

I rode down to the bookstore. Carla was in the back room, eating her lunch. I told her about the dress and the dance and Tiger.

“Imagine Nina being old enough to go to a formal dance,” Carla said. “It makes me feel old.”

“Not as old as it makes me feel,” I said.