Rachel
Sometimes Piper described Mom and it was like she was describing a stranger. She was. The mom I knew was not the same one Piper knew. I’ll never understand how two completely different personalities, one good and the other evil, could be stuffed so completely inside a person. I always feared that some of her evilness was in me, too. It’s one reason why I never want to have kids.
Piper walked into the kitchen just as I finished loading the dishwasher. After dinner, I’d sent her to get a bath. She held up a sparkly pink purse. “I found my nail polish, but I don’t think it’s any good.”
I dried my hands. “Here, let me see.”
Piper sat down on a kitchen chair while I examined the three small bottles of nail polish stuffed inside her pink purse along with a dozen plastic barrettes. “I think you’re right. I’ll get mine.”
While I ran to get my nail polish Claire called to chat. “Can I call you back after I put Piper to bed? I’m painting her nails right now.”
Claire made some kind of comment about sisterly love and hung up. When I walked into the room, Piper was still sitting on the chair – biting her nails!
“Stop it.” I held up two nail polishes. “Which do you like better? Apple red or perfect pink?”
“Pink.”
I shook the pink polish and sat down across from Piper. “Now hold still so I don’t get the polish all over your fingers.” I started painting her tiny nails. She had them chewed down to nubs. “Now, when I’m done, don’t go messing up your pretty hands by chewing your nails. I know someone who chewed her nails and she got a bad infection. She was a customer. Her name was Teresa. And she showed her finger to me. It was a nasty infection.”
Piper scrunched her freckled nose. “What’s an infection?”
Sometimes I had to remind myself that Piper was only five. “It’s when you bite your fingernails down to the nubs and they get very sore. Remember when you fell on the sidewalk the other week?”
Piper nodded.
“You skinned your knee and we came home and I cleaned out the wound and applied some cream so it wouldn’t become infected. Infections hurt.”
Piper scrunched her little nose. “Yuck!”
“Then you need to stop chewing your nails. Teresa painted her nails with a clear polish that tasted horrible. Every time she’d go to chew on her nails she’d taste the nasty polish. It took a long time, but eventually she stopped biting them. It’s better if you can stop without the icky polish.”
Piper watched as I finished painting her nails. “Will you do my toes, too?”
I picked up her right foot and started applying polish, finishing one foot and then the other. “Now, just sit here for a bit to let them dry.”
“And then you’ll read to me, right?”
I nodded. I read to Piper every night. It was something she said Mom did and I thought it was a good way for us to bond. But I got tired of reading the same book over and over. “Can we read something other than Cinderella tonight?”
From the contorted look on Piper’s face you’d have thought I’d asked her to taste Teresa’s icky nail polish or eat vegetables. She hates vegetables and I was forever trying to sneak them into dishes without her realizing it. Like meatloaf.
“Okay, Sleeping Beauty,” she said.
She loved all the Disney princesses and I knew she’d go down the line, suggesting one princess book after another if I asked her to pick something else. “Okay, I’ll read Cinderella. But tomorrow night I pick the book. Deal?”
She nodded. “Deal.”
After Piper’s nails dried, we went into the living room and sat on the threadbare sofa. I remember sitting on the brown plaid sofa when I was Piper’s age, and it was tattered then. I reached over and turned on the lamp and opened the book. Piper inched as close to me as she could, leaning her head on my shoulder. She reminded me of a puppy I once had. Max liked to snuggle and he always had to be smack up against me while I watched television or read in bed. He was my shadow, following me everywhere. But then Mom got really bad and I was placed in foster care. When I eventually came home, Max was gone.
“I want to be Cinderella,” Piper said. “And you can still be my sister but you can’t be mean.”
I smiled. “I’m never mean.”
“But you get mad sometimes, right?”
“Right.”
“And sometimes you say shit.”
“Piper.” I sat up on the sofa so I was facing her. “You know that’s a bad word and I don’t want to hear you say it again.”
“But you say it.”
I shook my finger at her. “I shouldn’t say it, either.”
“So you’re bad?”
“Yes, I’m bad. I should know better. But just because I do something or someone else does something doesn’t mean it’s okay for you to do the same thing. You know the rules.”
Ugh, raising a child was a tough job.
When I tucked Piper into bed that night, she said her usual prayers but she added something at the end. Dear God, I want a puppy. Rachel says we don’t have enough money. Maybe there’s a magic puppy that doesn’t cost anything. Amen.
I felt tears pool in my eyes and I bit my lip to keep from crying. I reached for Piper’s baby doll behind me and tucked her in bed next to Piper. “Sweet dreams, Piper. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Piper yawned and rolled onto her side, clutching her doll. I pulled up the blanket, covering her shoulder, and left her room feeling like the meanest sister in the world.
The next day, I felt like Cinderella going to the ball when I pulled up to Mary’s house. Like the first day I was here, I broke out in goosebumps. I wondered if Mary would let me clean today. I hoped so. I know that most people hate to clean, but it helps me to dust the cobwebs out of my brain. I can think when I clean and work through my problems. I see things more clearly. And for some reason keeping busy calms me. Whenever my life took a wrong turn, I’d clean. I guess being able to make things shiny and bright gave me a sense of control, like I really could make things better or right.
Mary met me at the door with a wide smile. “How about some tea before you start cleaning?”
“I’d love to.” I followed Mary into the parlor and sat down beside her. “That’s a different tea set than the one you used the other day.”
Mary smiled. “Yes. I collect them. This one is a nineteenth-century Austrian Bohemian porcelain by Giesshuebl. Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful. I love the floral design. And the colors are so pretty.” I saw rose, blue, white and purple.
Mary poured us each a cup of tea and, just like the other day, I picked up the tiny sugar tongs and dropped a cube into my cup.
“So tell me about Piper and Jacy.”
I shifted so I was turned toward Mary instead of straight ahead. “They ate together and hung together on the playground at recess. Jacy impressed Piper. She can read an entire book, cross the monkey bars without falling and has a dog. A poodle. Guess what its name is?”
Mary mashed her lips together and squinted, as if the actions helped her think. “Oh, I don’t know. Snoopy?”
“That’s a good dog name, but no. Winnie the Poodle.”
We both laughed.
“I take it Piper likes dogs?”
I nodded. “Loves them. She wants one but I told her we can’t afford it. Not now. Maybe someday.”
Mary nibbled the pastry in her hand and listened as I listed all of the reasons I wasn’t getting Piper a dog. Too expensive. We live in an apartment and there’s not much room. Dogs bark and make lots of noise. We’re not home during the day.
Mary set down her teacup. “I had a dog growing up. She was my best friend.”
“What kind?”
“A poodle. She was white and I named her Snowball. My, how I loved that dog. What type of dog does Piper want?”
“A Yorkie-Poo,” I said. “Piper saw a picture of one in a magazine at the doctor’s office and asked if she could tear out the page. She taped it to her bedroom wall.”
“They’re darling,” Mary said. “And they don’t get very big.”
We talked some more and finally, when we emptied the teapot and finished the pastries, Mary asked me if I was ready to clean.
“Absolutely. What do you want me to tackle first?”
“You can start with my bedroom. I noticed dust on the dresser.”
I grabbed the cleaning supplies from the cabinet in which Mary stored them and headed up the stairs. Finally, I was going to do what I came here to do. Having tea with Mary was lovely and all, but that’s not what she was paying for. She was paying me to clean and I wanted to show her I could do a good job.
Mary’s bedroom reminded me of a chic luxury hotel room with its earth-tone colors and clean lines. Decorative molding accented large expanses of wall space and pillows of every size were heaped on the bed. It was a far cry from my room, which contained an eclectic collection of flea market finds.
I dusted the antique cherry dresser, carefully removing the items and setting them on the floor. A silver antique jewelry box. A tray filled with several glass perfume decanters. An antique comb and brush set. I picked up a tiny blue floral china jewelry dish. It slipped from my hands but I caught it before it hit the floor. Any time I dropped a plate my heart went into overdrive. It was a reaction born out of an incident that happened when I was very young. I dropped a plate on the kitchen floor and mother was furious with me. It was her favorite plate and it slipped out of my hands. I once broke a plate at Miss Evelyn’s, too, only she didn’t react like Mom did.
I remembered cowering in the corner and putting up my arms to shield my face. “Don’t hit me! I didn’t mean it. Please!”
Miss Evelyn’s hand flew to her heart. She knelt down and took my hands away from my face. “Rachel, I’m not going to hit you. It was an accident. It’s okay. It’s just a plate.”
“You’re not going to hit me?”
“No, of course not. It was just an accident. I’ve broken many plates. It happens. Don’t worry. Now, why don’t you go play and I’ll take care of this.”
I remembered walking away and thinking that Mom had broken a lot of plates, too. But somehow that didn’t seem to matter. She’d hit me anyway.