The Meaning of Maggie (9 page)

Dad was at the table drinking coffee with Grandmother while Mom and Layla were busy in the kitchen fixing a Christmas feast. The tree was ablaze with colored lights and brightly wrapped gifts for one and all. I suppressed my urge to dive into the presents immediately and found Mom instead.

I squeezed her side. “Merry Christmas.”

She smiled. “What took you so long? You have a million presents to open!”

There weren't a million presents but there were definitely more than I expected. Mom had made it sound like we were only getting socks and gruel for Christmas. But I got everything I needed and even a few
things I didn't, like a brass bookmark from Mom and a Neil Young record from Dad.

Even Tiffany and Layla got me a present, which was a Mayfield family first. I unwrapped the tiny box, lifted the lid, and ta-da! Inside was the most perfect pair of fake diamond earrings. They were dainty and understated. Former First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy would have approved.

“They're so pretty!” I held them up to see their sparkle. “But my ears aren't pierced.”

Layla pushed my hair behind my ears. “Mom said we could take you to get them pierced.”

I shivered at the thought. “Maybe. I'll think about it.”

My turn. I reached under the tree for the two gifts I'd wrapped especially for my sisters. I could barely contain my excitement as I handed one to Tiffany and one to Layla. They tore open the paper and tried to hide their disappointment.

“Books,” Layla said flatly.

Tiffany examined her book like she'd never seen one before.

“Love poems to be exact,” I said. “Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote them for her husband who was also a poet. I thought you would really like them. Since they're about love. And stuff.”

Their faces lit up and Layla gave me a squeeze. “This is great, Maggie.”

“Yeah, this doesn't suck. Entirely,” Tiffany agreed.

“I'm so glad you like them. They're due back to the library next Monday. Don't be late. Mom gets really mad when she has to pay overdue charges.”

Layla and Tiffany laughed and Mom and Dad laughed and Grandmother just sat there because crazy people only laugh to themselves in secret while they're cooking up crazy plans to do all sorts of crazy things. It almost seemed like a normal Christmas. Then Grandmother handed Dad her gift.

I honestly wasn't expecting her to give him much. I mean she'd only given Mom a box of cologne. She'd given Layla and Tiffany lip gloss sets and me a nightgown that was four sizes too small. So her gifts were under the top, to say the least.

She gave Dad an envelope and watched him open it. Her face looked intense and even crazier than usual.

He pulled out a business card. “What is this, Mom?”

“It's the card of the top neurologist in Saint Louis. The wait to see him is usually a year long, but I did some pushing and managed to get you in the week after next. He'll get you all fixed up. He's the best of the best.”

Dad was silent. We were all silent because Dad was silent. And then Dad flipped.

“No one is going to fix me up, Mom. Don't you listen? I've told you over and over again. Now drop it!”

“Don't raise your voice at me!” Grandmother said while raising her voice. “I'm just trying to help. I'm
just trying to talk some sense into you. I brought you up to be more responsible than this. You haven't thought through a single thing!”

“Mom! I've done all the research. I've seen all the best doctors. I know what I'm doing!”

“Oh you do, do you?” Grandmother lost it.
³⁸
“This from the man who quits his job out of nowhere. You had twenty-five years with that company. And you just threw it all away! You can't take care of your family, let alone yourself!”

“That's enough!” Dad locked eyes with hers. “And I mean it!”

Mom stepped in. “Girls. Go to your rooms.”

The three of us stood up together but Dad wanted us to sit back down. “No, stay.
Stay
.”

Mom looked worried. “Honey, I don't think now is the time to—”

“I'd like to say something. To my family.”

Dad locked his wheels in front of Grandmother. “Now, I appreciate your concern. But I am getting the very best care here. Dale and the girls—”

“Dale and the girls don't know the first thing about taking care of you! If you'd been given the proper care and attention all along you wouldn't be in this condition!”

“This is just like you! You don't listen!” Dad shouted. “And then you just say all of these horrible things and
you think there are no consequences! Well, I can say horrible things too, Mom. Where have you been? The past eleven years.
Where have you been?
You hate Dad but you're just like him. Both of you just ran away.”

“I won't stand for this.” Grandmother stood up even though she just said she wouldn't. “Not on Christmas.” She stormed off.

Dad yelled after her, “That makes two of us!”

Grandmother stayed locked in Layla's room the rest of the night. We tried to carry on with Christmas but it felt super weird. Mom even tried to get Grandmother to come out for dinner but she refused. And I was glad she did. That meant more peace for my family and more honey-baked ham for me.

The next day Mom took her to the airport before any of us woke up. All she left behind was a bottle of her old lady lotion that I buried in the back of the linen closet. Far away from my family but close enough so if I ever needed to be reminded what crazy smelled like, I could take a sniff.

Before I knew it, it was New Year's Eve and my family was a family again. Mom made us black-eyed peas to eat for luck on New Year's Day and Dad lined up a stack of records he wanted to listen to as we rang in the new year. And I thought long and hard about my New Year's resolution. The year before I had resolved to make myself a scholarly triple threat by getting straight As,
perfect attendance, and at least one academic award. I had succeeded effortlessly. But after everything that had happened, I resolved to do something that might have seemed impossible, especially to Dad. I resolved to do something that would take all of my brain, all of my heart, and both my bootstraps pulled all the way up.

I resolved to fix Dad.

The first week back to school after Christmas break is always thrilling. But this time I was going to try even more to give it my all. Maybe I was excited to learn more and more so I could get smarter and smarter and closer and closer to fixing Dad. Maybe I just needed a distraction after everything that happened with Grandmother. Or maybe I was just the smartest kid in my entire class.
³⁹
I was on an academic roll and by Thursday afternoon my arm was drained of blood from raising it so much.

I was about to give my arm a rest and let someone else answer, when Mrs. Nicol asked, “Who refused to give up her seat on an Alabama bus?”

No one raised their hand. FOOLS. I eagerly raised mine.

Mrs. Nicol sighed. “Anyone other than Maggie?”

I meekly lowered my hand and Mrs. Nicol called on Mary Winter (the class airhead).

After about a million “ums,” Mary said, “Florence Nightingale?”

Seriously? Am I the only one who did her homework even when we didn't have homework? I was just about to redeem my generation by yelling “Rosa Parks” when the bell rang.

I was up and at 'em the next morning. I'd read four chapters ahead in my history book the night before so I felt confident knowing I knew more than usual. I was only going to read two chapters ahead but then the civil rights movement took off and I had to know if Lyndon B. Johnson got his act together. I was zipping my book bag up when Mom unexpectedly appeared at my door.

“Why aren't you at work, lady?”

“Stop calling me lady,
lady
,” she said with a look. “I took the day off to spend with my girls. How do you feel about a little adventure?”

“Well, maybe later. I'm staying after school to clean the erasers.”

“Why do you have to do that? Did you get in trouble?”

“Trouble? I volunteered. I consider it my civic duty.”

She looked impressed and worried at the same time. “Okay, well, you're going to have to miss it today. We're going to play hooky. Doesn't that sound cool?”

Was she kidding? It sounded the opposite of cool. “I can't skip school. What if I miss a pop quiz or something?”

Mom held out my coat. “I already checked with your teachers. Missing a day is fine.”

I objected big time. “No way, Mom!”

She pushed me out the door. “This is kidnapping!”

Next thing I knew, I was bundled up and being forced into the car next to Tiffany who was already buckled up. Layla was in the front seat. Was she really kidnapping all three of us?

“I don't want to be kidnapped!” I screamed.

Mom looked at me in the rearview mirror. “It's perfectly legal to kidnap your own children.”

“We'll let the court of law decide that.” I nodded at Tiffany, who was staring at me with her nose wrinkled.

“You're so weird.”

And just like that we were driving down the highway with the radio blasting ON A SCHOOL DAY. I gave everyone the silent treatment. Mostly because I was mad and partly because when you're kidnapped, you're not supposed to give your captors any reason to dislike you.

Layla checked her mascara in the passenger mirror. “Come on Maggie, cheer up! Today is going to be fun!”

“How do you know? Have you been conspiring with the enemy?”

Mom didn't like that. At all. “I'll have you know, Magnolia Jane Mayfield”—uh-oh. She used my whole name. Trouble—“your sisters and I planned this entire day just for you. So be nice and get excited.”

“Actually they planned it,” said Tiffany. “I was forced to come along against my will.”

I held out my hand for her to shake in solidarity but she refused it and went back to layering on lip gloss.
⁴⁰

“How am I supposed to be excited if I don't even know where we're going?”

Mom pulled into a parking lot lined with giant trees. “We're here. The High Museum of Art.” She turned around and smiled. “Excited now?”

The place was huge and overwhelming and totally exciting.

“We're going on a full tour of museums today,” Mom explained. “This is our first stop and then we're going to the Atlanta History Center. It's time you saw some real history, instead of just reading about it in school.”

“This is awesome!” I yelled louder than you're supposed to yell in front of museums. I lowered my voice back to normal. “Is Dad meeting us here?”

“No, honey,” Mom said. “We're going to have a great time. It'll be just us girls.”

I was skeptical. A girls' day? They better not make me shop for anything. Unless it's a Picasso.

Mom bought our tickets and we turned through the turnstiles and went back in time. I hadn't thought I was really into art. I mean the only art we did in art class involved Popsicle sticks but no Popsicles and that just seemed wrong. But this art jumped off every wall. There were so many colors, so many faces, so many naked people I wasn't supposed to see but Mom said they were like the naked people in
National Geographic
so it was okay. Layla loved the Degas dancers and Tiffany loved the Renoir lady and I loved this painting of raspberries that I imagined were sugared like Mom always made them.

We
oohed
and
aahed
for an hour and then Mom said it was time to go to our next destination. On our way to the car, we passed a wishing well.

Layla pushed Mom for coins. “Come on, Mom. You have to have a penny in your purse somewhere.”

Mom's arm disappeared into her bag and came back out holding three pennies. “You're in luck!” She handed one to each of us. “Make it count.”

Layla tossed hers in first and probably made a wish about being senior prom queen. Tiffany was next and she probably made a wish about being junior prom queen.

I handed my penny back to Mom. “Here, you throw it. I don't want to.”

“Oh come on, Maggie,” she said. “You have to make a wish.”

“I'm pretty sure it's illegal to throw wishes in there and I can't break a law. I'm going to be president one day! How many times do I have to tell you?!”

She laughed. “Okay, okay. I'll make a wish then.”

She held on super tight to the penny and let it go behind her without opening her eyes. She looked like she was wishing really hard. She was probably wishing for . . . Hmmm, I didn't know what Mom wished for. She never really wanted anything. I would've asked her but I didn't want her to give up her wish by telling me. I wanted it to come true. Whatever it was.

We drove down busy city streets and made our way to the History Center. Inside, I took a deep breath that smelled the way smart felt. Mom and I walked side by side and she guided us through the civil rights exhibition while Layla and Tiffany pretended to pay attention.

“I remember this.” Mom pointed at a picture of Martin Luther King Jr. walking down an Atlanta street surrounded by people. “He was a great man. Gone way too soon.”

“Did you go to the parade he was in?” I asked.

“Oh, it wasn't a parade. It was a march on Washington. I didn't go, but I watched it on TV with my dad and it was so exciting. That time was really electric, you know?”

I questioned her hippie vocabulary. “Electric?”

“Yes, electric. Like
alive
. Like things were finally changing for the better even though sometimes it was scary. Especially growing up down here. Atlanta was the center of it all because of Dr. King. And living here, you really felt like you were a part of it. A part of the change.”

I searched the photos for electricity and swore I saw a spark here and there. “I'm going to make history one day too, you know.”