Spring, 2007 Seeing Things
Why are you staring at yourself in the mirror? What are you doing? ”Sally is tugging on her tight jeans with butterflies embroidered on the pocket.
I am sitting at the vanity thinking about a word I learned at school: lacuna, which means a hole, an empty space. I’m thinking that I don’t look like me anymore. “Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Nothing can be a subject.”
“Yeah. Right.” Sally looks out the window. “Why is Mr. Caros digging out there? It’s like he’s burying something. Do you think he finally killed his wife?”
“He’s putting in a fishpond. He wants to get it in before spring. He couldn’t pay his rent again, so he’s working it off.” With the money Obaachan left, my parents have bought our house. Dad thought it would be a great thing to receive rent, but Mr. Caros never seems to come up with the money. “Next, he’ll paint the trim around the windows.”
“Ugh.” Sally groans. “Dad is such a pushover, but you know who it affects? Us. We can’t have this. We can’t have that. Like, I should have my own car and not have to drive Mom’s. And you should have . . . I don’t know . . . something. Mr. Caros is shorting Dad eight hundred dollars a month. Dad should evict them.”
“That would be mean after they’ve been our neighbors for so long. Besides, Mr. Caros will find a job.”
“You’re a pushover, too. Oh, this shirt looks abysmal. Why are my clothes always wrinkled?”
“Because you leave them on the floor.”
“Oh, yeah.” Sally goes through her closet, pulls out a black, beaded sweater, the gift from Obaachan, and tugs it over her head. It fits her perfectly.
“I’ve never seen you wear that. It looks great.”
“Yeah, I should’ve worn it, just to be nice to Grandma, but I thought the beads were hokey.”
“I picked it out.”
“It’s beautiful, really beautiful. I was just too dumb to know it, then.”
“Do you have a date tonight?”
“When do I not have a date?”
“Where are you going?”
“The movies.”
“What are you seeing?”
She laughs. “It doesn’t matter what we’re seeing. It’s a date. We’re not going to be watching the movie.”
“Why the movies, then?”
“You think and act like you’re eight years old.”
“How well do you know him?”
“What are you? My grandma?”
I look at her sharply.
“Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”
I shrug but don’t admit that that is who I see when I look in the mirror. Obaachan’s face. Not mine.
“Want me to brush your hair?” Sally takes the brush off of the vanity and draws it through my hair. “Your hair’s so pretty, Lin. It’s your major asset.”
“Asset?”
“Yeah. When I was little I wanted more than anything to look like Barbie, but finally I realized you’ve just got to find your assets, and accentuate them. Like yours is your hair and your cheekbones. Plus, you’re tiny. A lot of guys like that. But you should get that blank look off your face. Go ahead. You haven’t smiled in years.”
I attempt a smile.
“See. Don’t you look cute?”
“No.”
“It’s a fake smile, that’s why. You were the most adorable baby on the planet. Everyone used to ooh and aah about you. And if it was just Dad who was with us, they’d ask if we were adopted from China. They give the girls away, there, you know. Sometimes I feel sorry for Dad that we don’t look at least a little like him.”
“He’s happy with us.”
“He’s happy by nature, like you used to be.” She sets the brush down.
“So who is your date? Did you meet him on the computer?”
“I met him last night. You won’t believe this. I was working the counter, and this really good-looking guy came in with his buddies and got in my line. He ordered Chicken McNuggets, fries, and a chocolate shake. He couldn’t decide which sauce he wanted, so I gave them all to him. Then he said I was cute and invited me to the movies.”
“What’s not to believe?”
“Do you remember Walker Briggs?”
“The fish?”
“Very funny. The boy! I didn’t know it was him at first. He looked familiar. I asked him his name and he goes, Walker Briggs! He moved away to Texas, and only came back last year. He works at Auto Zone right down the street.”
“A car mechanic?”
“A salesperson. Don’t be such a snob. He’s handsome as ever.”
“Is his shirt still stuck in his fly?”
“What?” She laughs. “Boy, you are off the wall. He wanted me to go out with him after work, but I was going out with Rod Parks, who is like boring. But this; this feels like fate.”
An image comes to me of Sally walking in the night. She is crying and limping. It comes without emotion, like I am watching a movie, the mark of a true vision. “Maybe you shouldn’t go in his car, since you don’t know him that well.”
“You were born about sixty years old. Do you know that?”
“You just told me I’m eight.”
“Yes, a child and an old woman at once. The sixteen-year-old you’re supposed to be is nowhere in sight. You haven’t even started driving. Besides, he’s not a stranger. I’ve known him since third grade.”
“He’s not going to be nice,” I say, the words coming out before I have a chance to catch them.
She freezes, startled. “Don’t you dare jinx me, Lin. You’re always jinxing me.”
“I don’t.” I just tell her what I see.
“You’re spooky. I would like to hide you someplace. But I can’t. I love you too much. And the ’rents. Embarrassing. Mother in her 1950s fashions and stupid recipes and Bake-Offs. Dad with his booming voice. Why does he have to tell everyone he’s Irish all the time? He was born that way. Who cares? His ancestors were probably potato farmers. But they’re there, you know. They get a grip on you that will squeeze you for the rest of your life.”
“You get to eat what you want now.”
“Yeah, I won that battle. And the curfew one. Here I am, forging through territories to clear a nice clean path for my little sister. What a waste. I never met such a goody-goody.” She musses my hair again.
“You just brushed it.”
“You’re not going anywhere, so why do you care?”
I shrug.
“I hope you’re wrong about tonight.”
“Me, too. But just in case, don’t wear those high heels.”
“In case of what?”
“In case you have to walk.”