My Fairy Godmonster (14 page)

“Quick open the door,” I yell.

“Give me the chip,” orders Fairy
Godmonster.

I wipe it clean and hand it to her as she
unlocks the door. I run out and head for the bathroom.

Luckily, Daria is out of sight. I throw the
poop in the toilet and wash the napkin out in the sink. Then I
scrub my hands until I can’t smell anything.

Fairy Godmonster is sprawled on the bed in a
lacy nightgown when I return. Her magic whip lies next to her.

“Guess the NTMT chip works.” I say.

She kicks her whip off the bed. “It does. Too
bad the whip doesn’t.”

Chapter 21: Work Ahead
-
Confrontation

The next week crawls like cold honey. I clean
house even in my dreams. I hardly see or talk to anyone except
Fairy Godmonster. Frustrated that her whip can’t help me, she
exercises all day and complains about being confined to the
attic.

Weasel spends her time cooking and on the
telephone with caterers, rental agencies, bakers, decorators and
musicians.

Mr. Dudley lives on his cell phone, but
somehow keeps track of what’s going on.

Daria stalks me while Godzilla sheds all over
the clean furniture. When I ask her to help keep the cat hair off,
she tells me that, “Rich people don’t work.”

David works day and night in the barn because
everything he orders comes late. John takes turns helping him and
me in the stable.

Dad is on his way home and never has time to
talk more than a minute. I can’t wait to talk about Mom with
him.

I rarely see Claire except the day the
dresses come. I’m scrubbing the refrigerator when she runs in from
shopping in Salem. “Come in the living room. I want you to see my
dress.”

I look at the cleaning I still have to do.
Oh, well. It’s not going anywhere. I wash my hands and follow
her.

Claire unwraps the wedding dress. The creamy
white top sparkles in clusters of rhinestones and pearls that flow
in a curve down the long skirt.

“Sweet!” I exclaim. “Oh, Claire, it’s
beautiful!”

Claire smiles. “Thanks.”

“I know it’s rude to ask, but how much does a
dress like this cost?”

“Forty thousand dollars.”

“For a dress?” I squeak.

“Rhinestones would have been fine, but Mother
insisted on diamonds.”

“Diamonds.” I touch one. “You’re lucky.”

“Yes, I am. To find David. Look at the veil.”
She opens another box. Inside is a delicate tiara of pearls and
diamonds hooked to material as fine as mist.

“It’s perfect for you, Claire.”

She glows. “Thank you. I can’t wait to get
married.” She gets a dreamy look on her face.

“Where are you going to live?”

“As far away from my mother as possible,” she
says quietly.

“I’m going to tell Mommy,” whines Daria
behind us.

“Go do something useful,” Claire tells
her.

Daria runs out of the room screaming.

“Brat,” says Claire. “David hasn’t decided
where he wants to start his business. Until he does, we hope your
father will let us stay here.”

“Dad will jump at the chance.”

She says, “I hope so.”

I blurt, “I’d like having you around,
too.”

Claire smiles and my world lights up.
“Thanks. Let’s find your dress.”

She sorts through the boxes. Names are
written on the outside.

“Here it is.”

“Do you care if I take it upstairs? I need to
get back to work.”

She frowns. “If Mother would leave me alone
for two seconds, I would help you.

It’s not fair you have to work so hard. I
promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

I smile. “Thanks.”

“Claire!” calls Weasel. She shrugs
apologetically and hurries away.

I grab my dress box and run upstairs. I don’t
even know the colors of the wedding. Some maid-of-honor I am.

Unlocking the door, I lay the box on the
bed.

“Open it.” Fairy Godmonster glides over
excitedly.

I pull the tissue paper aside. Remove the
hanger.

“No,” I moan. Why do people think pink looks
good on redheads?

“Try it,” urges Fairy Godmonster.

I put it on and stand in front of the mirror.
The dress looks better on the hanger. The puffed sleeves bring
attention to my boobs. The full skirt helps fill out my slender
hips, but the dropped waist makes my legs look short. Way
uncool.

“Bummer,” says Fairy Godmonster as she turns
me around. “That woman has no imagination.”

I throw the dress on the bed in a heap. Fairy
Godmonster hangs it in the armoire as I leave.

Trudging back to work, I notice Claire and
Weasel head to head, talking. I never miss a mom as much as I do
now.

Overhearing the stuff about Claire’s birth
mom eats at me. Finally, at the end of the week, I corner David
outside. “We need to talk.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“No, this is about Claire. Come into the
stable.”

David follows me and asks, “What?”

“I overheard Mr. and Mrs. Dudley talking
about Claire’s birth mother.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

I frown at him. “Not exactly.”

He sighs. “Okay, out with it.”

“Claire’s Mother is one of Mrs. Dudley’s
sisters.”

“What!”

“It gets worse. She lives in this state. You
have to tell Claire.”

David starts pacing. “She’s stressed-out
enough without having to cope with another mother. It could ruin
the wedding.”

“What if she wants her birth mother to come?
Is it fair to keep this from Claire?”

Claire walks into the stable. “Keep what from
me?”

I stare at David. He sinks against a
wall.

She runs to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Claire.” He takes her into his arms. “I
love you.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know what to say,” mumbles
David.

“Tell me, please,” coaxes Claire.

He looks into her eyes. “I can’t hurt
you.”

“You’re scaring me, David.”

I blurt out, “Would you want to know about
your birth mom now?

Silence. Even the horses are quiet.

Claire turns and faces me. “Yes.”

“I overheard a conversation your parents had.
They know her.”

Claire turns white and her knees buckle.
David holds her tight.

“Why didn’t they tell me?” she asks.

“You’ll have to ask them,” I say quietly.
“I’m sorry if it upsets you.” I glare at David. “I know what’s it’s
like when people keep the truth from you.”

Claire pulls out of David’s arms. “They won’t
keep it from me any longer.” She stalks out of the stable.

David chases after her. “Wait. Let me come
with you.”

I’ve never heard anger in Claire’s voice
until now. “You might as well, since we’re going to be one big,
happy family.”

We follow her into the kitchen. Weasel looks
up from the notes she is writing.

“Where is Daddy?” Claire’s eyes shoot
sparks.

“In the living room, I think. What’s wrong,
Claire?”

“My life, Mother. Come with me.”

Weasel searches our eyes, but David and I say
nothing.

We follow them into the living room.

Daria pouts by her father’s side. He hangs up
when he sees Claire’s face.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

She takes a deep breath. “I would like you to
tell me, right now, who my mother is.”

“I am your mother,” asserts the Weasel.

“My birth mother.”

The fear in Weasel’s eyes when she looks at
Mr. Dudley slams into my heart.

“I don’t think this is the appropriate time
or place to discuss this.” Weasel starts to walk out of the
room.

Claire says, “You know who she is.”

Weasel crumples to the sofa next to her
husband.

“Go to your room, Daria,” orders Mr.
Dudley.

“I’m in this family, too.”

“Go!” Mr. Dudley scowls at Daria.

She scuttles up the staircase and peeks
around the corner.

“How did you find out?” asks Weasel staring
at me.

“That is irrelevant. I’m not leaving this
room until I know the truth.”

“Not in front of strangers,” sighs
Weasel.

“They are part of our family. I want them to
hear.”

Mr. Dudley pats his wife’s hand. “You knew
this day would come, Erminia.”

Weasel says nothing, so Mr. Dudley starts.
“Your mother practically raised her brothers and sisters. They
didn’t appreciate her strict ways, but she was determined that they
would escape their poverty. She succeeded. They grew into
responsible adults, able to take care of themselves. Except for her
youngest sister. Miranda was the hellion who fought her sister’s
rules every step of the way.”

Mr. Dudley pats his wife’s hand. “When I met
your mother, she was twenty-seven, but looked forty. I fell in love
with this woman who would give away her youth to raise her
siblings. I proposed to her. Then we found out that Miranda was
pregnant. She was fifteen.”

I gasp. My age.

Weasel speaks softly. “You have to understand
that being raised in Appalachia,

things were very different. We were dirt
poor. Miranda’s boyfriend was sixteen and making bootleg whiskey
for his grandpa. He disappeared when he found out she was
pregnant.”

Tears fall as she whispers, “Miranda wanted
to abort you.”

Feeling awful, I watch Claire’s eyes fill
with tears.

David grabs her hand.

Mr. Dudley continues, “We got married and
told Miranda that we would adopt her baby if she would carry it
full term. We gave her everything she could possibly want, except
money.

“She made your mother’s life miserable. After
you were born, Miranda left the hospital. She sold you for fifty
dollars and disappeared. When the police called us, you were almost
dead.”

“I’m sorry,” Claire mumbles. She rushes to
hug Weasel.

“Your mother stayed in the hospital fighting
to help keep you alive,” adds Mr. Dudley.

“Did my birth mother ever try to see me?”
asks Claire.

“She called for money,” sneers Weasel.

“Be fair, Erminia. She was only fifteen.
After she grew up, she wanted to see Claire. Your mother
refused.”

“I never want to see Miranda as long as I
live. I will never forgive her.” Weasel stands up and leaves the
room.

Whoa. Not knowing the truth about my mom was
bad. This is awful. I swallow hard. A wave of guilt covers my heart
in darkness.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” David says.

“Where is my birth mother?” asks Claire.

“She lives in Oregon,” replies Mr.
Dudley.

“I want to meet her, Daddy.”

He wipes his sweaty brow. “I don’t think
that’s such a good idea. Your wedding is day-after tomorrow.”

“I need to see her. Please make it happen.”
Claire strides out of the room.

Mr. Dudley sighs.

David and I leave the room. He says, “I hope
you’re happy.” He stomps away.

I drag upstairs.

Daria follows me down the hall to my door. I
unlock it.

“That’s a neat key. Can I see it?”

“No. It’s just a key.”

“What are you hiding in there?” she asks,
whining.

“Leave me alone.”

“Is that where you locked up Gazella?”

I slam the door in her face, exhausted. My
head aches. This is the worst day of my life.

Boy, am I wrong.

Chapter 22: Pass At Your Own Risk

Claire’s eyes are puffy and red when I come
in for a late breakfast the next morning. The smell of burnt toast
and bacon scorches the air.

“You okay?” I ask.

“Mom refuses to come out of the bedroom and I
can’t cook. I can’t do anything. I’ll make a terrible wife.” Tears
race down her face.

“You can learn. Besides, until you do, David
can teach you. He’s a good cook. Where’s everybody?”

“They ate cereal and fruit and left.”

I sit beside her. “I’m sorry you had to learn
about your birth mother now.”

“I’m not. It’s a relief to know something.
The empty hole inside isn’t so big anymore.”

“
Strange, huh? I finally
opened one of my mom’s trunks and found a diary she wrote to me. It
makes everything different.”

Claire wipes her tears and smiles. “I’m so
glad. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I want to talk with Dad first. Besides, I’m
starving.” Dragging out more bacon,

eggs and bread I ask, “You hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Watch and learn.” I get two clean frying
pans, turn on the oven and throw bacon in one.

“What were you doing before you met David?” I
ask.

“Taking a few classes at the university.”

“What was your major?”

“I didn’t really have one. Mom wanted me to
be something other than a wife and mother. I was taking classes to
please her.”

Putting oil in the other pan, I crack the
eggs into it and flip the bacon. “Are you interested in
anything?”

“I love math. I’m kind of a whiz and can do
calculations in my head.”

“That’s cool.”

She smiles slightly.
“What good is it?”

“You could take a business course and help
David. Being great at math can open doors to lots of exciting
careers.”

Claire says, “I could, couldn’t I? I’m so
used to having everything done for me, I never considered being
useful.”

“Did you think David was going to do
everything for you?”

Claire smiles. “When you’re in love, you
don’t think about anything else.”

“Better watch out. You don’t want to be
another dumb blond.”

She laughs and we eat.

I barely see anyone except
Daria lurking around for the rest of the day, so I
finish washing the windows. I’m so sore from all
the extra chores, it seems like I’m moving in slow
motion.

Weasel has Claire doing more errands, even
though she doesn’t come out of the bedroom. John studies for exams
and Mr. Dudley spends most of the day on the phone.