Dang. It’s kind of early in the morning for drama, don’t you think? C’mon now. Be a nice little girl and get on up.”
Someone was giving me little slaps around the face. Then shaking me. Kind of hard. I didn’t understand why. And then I remembered the yellow-eyed dog. And DiDi.
I opened my eyes. I was still on the ground. The blue car was parked next to me, and this woman was bending over me. She snapped her fingers a few times.
“Are you—” I tried to get up too quickly and my head spun again.
“Whoa there! Take it easy. I think you better come along with me. We’ll get you where you need to go.”
Her face looked exactly like an older version of DiDi’s, down to the little tilted point of her nose. And the pretty curve of her lip.
Mama.
“Let’s get you into the car. My place is right up here, but it won’t do anyone any good to have you fainting again.”
As she leaned over to support me, something about her reminded me of Lori. Lori on those late party nights when I’d have to babysit her.
She helped me into her car and drove up to a trailer that looked like maybe once upon a time it was really pretty. And now just hanging on to the last bits of pretty.
Out front, a chippy blue mailbox was hammered to a tree with a little stuffed teddy held on with a faded ribbon. It was wearing a T-shirt that said KEEP OUT! THIS BEAR GIVES HUGS! I thought of that nice drugstore clerk, Ida, and her little pink KEEP OUT sign. That day seemed like a million years ago. And a million miles away.
Mama parked the car and came around to the passenger side. “Come on in now. I can’t promise it’s clean, but…” She opened the front door. “Not so bad now, is it? Can you stand on your own?” When I nodded, she let go of me.
I couldn’t help staring as she made her way to the kitchen, slipping off her coat and tossing it onto a faded sofa. I waited for her to look at me twice. For some kind of small piece of recognition to show in her face. “I’m making you a cup of coffee—lots of sugar and creamer.” She looked me up and down. “You know, you sure do stare a lot, baby girl. But then”—she did a little shimmy—“everyone stares at me.”
As soon as she had coffee brewing, she reached into a cabinet and pulled out a bottle, and it didn’t take a genius to see that it wasn’t coffee she was pouring into her own mug. She took a big gulp, and as she drank, she looked nothing like DiDi.
She picked up a pack of long skinny cigarettes and offered one to me.
“No?” She laughed and lit one for herself. “Might as well start now. I did when I was about your age. Now tell me, what are you doing wandering around and fainting in the middle of the street?” She sat down on one of the two chairs and nodded that I should take the other.
A tiny ragged dog came padding up to her. She shoved it away with one high-heeled foot. It came back and she shoved it again. Hard.
I gasped and then coughed to cover it up. I didn’t know what to say. How to begin.
“I…” I looked around the room, searching for an answer.
“Okay, take it easy. Let me get your coffee so you can get your mind back together.” She toasted the air with her mug. “While I work on getting my mind back together.”
As she fixed my coffee, she glanced at my backpack. “So what are you doing, some kind of school report or something?”
My mind started working. “Yes, I’m—I’m—interviewing people—for a paper on—the Truth.”
“The Truth? What the heck kind of school paper is that?”
“It’s a paper on the truth about—” I blinked and looked up. “Names.”
“Names?”
“Yes, on the meaning behind names and—what people like to name their—their children. Stuff like that.”
She handed me my mug and sat down. “If you want to know about names, I got a few stories. You’re going to want to write this down.”
I knew my school assignment book was in the front pocket of my backpack. I found a pen and quickly pulled it out. “I’ll just need some, um, information. What’s your full name, please?”
“Delta Dawn Barnes.”
I pressed down hard with the pen to keep my hand from shaking. It ripped through the paper. “Sorry—sorry, let me—” I tore that piece out and started again. It was true. It was true. Mama was alive. Mama was alive and right here in front of me. “And—and what do you do for a living?”
She gave her curls a little pat. “You are looking at the best darn hairdresser in town. They line up for me day and night.” She took a long drag of her cigarette. “Or used to, anyway. Just hard times now. But the fellows still line up to buy me drinks. That’s worth something.” She winked at me and exhaled.
My mind raced for what to say next. “Did you—did you always want to be a hairdresser or—”
“Honey, it’s the only thing I was ever good at. It’s not like I was a whiz at school. Hightailed it out of there after eighth grade. Hey, I thought this was supposed to be about names, not some fancy high school diploma.”
I found myself reaching for the star on my forehead.
It was still there. It was real. But at that moment, nothing else seemed to be.
Mama was here and alive, but she was not the Mama I’d been told about. Not the Mama I’d dreamed of.
Not a scientist.
Not a brain.
Not like me.
Nothing like me.
Or was I the one who was nothing like I was supposed to be?