The chill of early spring had given way to warmer days, and I found myself propped up in a large padded wicker chair with my right foot elevated on an old gardening crate. Some of my blonde shoulder-length, curly hair stuck out from an old wrinkled denim-blue bandana.
Mom and I had loved visiting Julie at this house in the country. The large Victorian house always seemed like a mansion to me. The yard had a border of the brightest, most beautiful wildflowers you’ve ever seen. Aunt Julie would always ask me to pick some, to go in the vase on the kitchen table.
* * *
Surprisingly, my aunt and my mother didn’t look a lot alike. Mom had pale blue eyes and beautiful long, wavy, blonde hair. It was more of what they sometimes call “dishwater blond”, but she often highlighted it, giving it a brighter look. Julie had lovely, long, curly auburn hair and light brown eyes. They also had very different preferences when it came to clothes, and come to think of it, almost everything. I often wondered how that worked as they were growing up. They were only a few years apart in age, and the necessity of sharing often became a problem. As adults, they got along beautifully, but when they were young, sharing a room, and many other things, could get a bit intense.
Sometimes, they’d start talking about the past, often disagreeing on specific parts of the stories. Who helped who, with math homework and who tried to help who, get into the glee club… The biggest “discussion” was who dated who, when, where and …you get the idea.
I did know that when it came to dating, and men, Julie had struggled through some bad relationships. One day, quite a few years ago, mom told me the story of how one relationship had broken her sister’s heart beyond repair.
About six years ago, after days of coaxing from Mom, Julie had finally agreed to attend an informal get-together at her new neighbor’s house. Planning to make an appearance, make some small talk, and graciously exit, Julie was introduced to, and immediately fell for Nicolas Gates, a local business owner.
They immediately became friends. Friendship became a quiet romance, one more honest and tender than she had ever experienced.
They’d enjoy picnics spread out on the living room floor. Sometimes they merely fell asleep in each other’s arms while watching old movies on T.V.
Then, suddenly, he was gone. No argument, no explanations. He had disappeared from her life as easily as he had come into it.
She tried to contact him only every so often, not wanting to seem overly-attached. Though he was gone, it was the message she received when she dialed his number that made her accept reality. “This number is no longer in service.” Anything mailed to his apartment came back “Return to sender. No forwarding address available.”
I remember visiting shortly after all that had happened. Though she had been badly hurt, our arrival seemed to erase a lot of the pain and loneliness she was feeling.
We sat together on the back porch swing that day, and she told me how very happy she was to have mom and I in her life, and that our visits meant the world to her. Years earlier, she even invited me to stay with her while mom was on tour. It was a nice offer, but mom and I wanted to stay together as much as possible.
That evening the three of us made home-made pizza and played charades. No matter what you did in that house, it was always, warm, happy and full of love.
* * *
I tried to relax and enjoy the view from my position on the big back porch. But, that back yard I enjoyed so much as a little girl, the yard still overflowing with those beautiful wild flowers in every color imaginable, now meant nothing to me. As hard as I tried, the view might as well have been a big, slimy swamp. Nothing could penetrate through my grief and confusion. Something powerful was blocking the beauty, the joy, I once found in everything around me.
“Penny, how ‘bout some lemonade?” Julie brightly backed out of the house as she held the screen door open. Her hands were occupied with a tray holding a pitcher of lemonade, two glasses and a little dish of her homemade cookies.
She poured a glass of lemonade for me and one for herself.
She sighed as she sat down on the other wicker chair. “So, “apple-cheeks” what have you been doing?” “God, Julie, nobody’s called me that since…” Though I had thinned-out and my face was a bit more mature now, I still had the vestiges of the chubby, bright blue-eyed “baby doll” type I had been for years. I hated some of these little nicknames the people in the touring group had given me when I was younger. Being the only child around most of the time, they had fun teasing me. Apple-cheeks and baby- doll were the two most annoying to me.
Julie took a deep breath. “Do you remember the doctor I told you about before we left the hospital?”
I refused to answer.
Well, his name is “Dr. Waldham, and he wants to start seeing you on a weekly basis. I met with him briefly, yesterday.”
Without looking at her, I replied flatly, and with a touch of irritation, “Why did you go to see him?”
“I’ve been worried about you. I can’t stand seeing you like this much longer. Besides, you’re going to have to go back to school soon.” That certainly brightened my mood. I dreaded the thought of both the psychiatric sessions and starting school.
“I also arranged for one of the counselors from the local school district to come out to the house to give you an assessment test.” “You’ve been busy,” I said, a little too sarcastically. “Mom always made sure I kept up with my schoolwork while we were on the road.” “Yes, I know, but before you can start school here, they need to find out where you’d fit in academically.”
I resented having to take the tests. Actually, I resented just about everything. I was angry and hurt and had no idea what to do about it.
About a week later, as we were ready to sit down for dinner, Julie pulled an envelope from the desk drawer. “I have good news” she began. “The school was impressed with your scores. They said you can go into the sophomore class this fall. They also said there were two areas where you could use a little help to blend in better.” I rolled my eyes. Ignoring my bad attitude she continued, “They’re sending over a student tutor to help you brush up on some of your math and science skills before the first day of school.
* * *
The morning I was to meet Jessica was warm and bright. Julie had the back door open and a warm breeze blew through the kitchen into the living room. I sat in my rented wheelchair, my ambivalence turning into anger.
Aunt Julie stood, walked to the living room, looked over at me and added, “Oh, by the way, they said your tutor’s name is Jessica.”
“Can I get you anything before she gets here?”
“No. You know, she’s probably one of those boring, hard to understand geeks,” I blurted out with underlying anger and some physical pain.
Finally losing her temper a bit she shouted, “Penny! Stop that! What’s wrong with you?” This girl is doing you a special favor so you’ll be able to start school in the fall.”
“You know, I really don’t care,” I snapped, suddenly trying hard not to say anything more.
Julie sighed in frustration and walked back into the kitchen.
“Hell—llo— anybody home?” I heard a slightly southern voice calling in through the back screen door.
“Hi. You must be Jessica.” Julie asked pleasantly, escorting her in.
“Yeahess, that’s me!” Looking around the kitchen she added, “Y’all have a great house.”
“Thank you. Come on in, Penny’s in the living room.”
Expecting some dowdy, unattractive bookworm type, I was shocked when my new tutor and soon to be best friend strolled in. She smiled, looked at my cast and asked, “Hey, girl, what did you do to yourself?” When I didn’t respond, she broke the silence holding out her hand, “I’m Jessica, you must be Penny.”
Still silent, I shook her hand. Julie who had been standing in the doorway asked, “Would you girls like something to drink?”
“Sure! Whatever you’ve got.” Jessica yelled over her shoulder. I noticed the southern accent had completely disappeared. She put her stack of books on the coffee table and plopped down on the chair across from me.
“So, what do you want to start with?” I didn’t answer. “How ‘bout Algebra, that’s significantly annoying for a beautiful summer day.” Her up-front, in-your-face attitude was probably the best thing to fight my self- pity and anger.
Jessica was far from the preconceived notion I had of her. She towered over me when she shook my hand. I may have been sitting down, but it was obvious she was very tall. She had long dark curly hair she pulled away from her perfect, non-made-up face. She wore plain jeans and a simple light blue blouse. It was clear from the start that my new friend was one of those girls who look good without working at it. And, what added to her good looks was her tremendous confidence.