Bitsie wouldn’t admit it, but he hated the fact that I’d actually started to like Kathleen. It surprised me at first too. I always figured she was one more member of the family that I was just going to have to learn to live with.
Then one Saturday morning, when I’d been in Toronto about a week, she came up to me and said, “So what do you want to do today?” all sweet and everything. Or at least trying to be.
I’m not stupid. I know the only reason she was asking was that my mother called and wanted to know what the two of us had been up to, and Kathleen couldn’t honestly come up with a single thing. (She’s a pretty good liar at work, but she really can’t pull it off with my mother. I guess it’s the big sister thing or something.)
So that’s why Kathleen was so eager for a little “quality time” together. She needed something to report. We looked at each other in terror for a while. I know she was worried I was going to say, “Why don’t we go to the playground?” or “Let’s make paper dolls!” or some other little kid thing like that. (Even still, Kathleen has a lot of trouble figuring out exactly what a twelve-year-old is.)
What I was thinking about, though, was Nick and how Beach Meadows I looked compared to him and how I’d like to find something more Toronto to wear. I just sort of blurted out, “Ah, could we go…shopping maybe?”
It was like I’d asked Bess if she wanted to help me steal a bus. Suddenly, Kathleen looked…I know this sounds ridiculous, but it’s true. She looked delighted. Like thrilled. I barely had time to pack my Choc-o-rama before we were out of the house and on a major mall crawl.
I knew Kathleen was really worried about Bitsie ’n’ Bytesie going way over budget, so I was surprised how much she liked shopping. It was as if spending money on clothes relaxed her or something. She smiled. She laughed.24 She only answered her cell phone three times.
I was just planning to get one T-shirt (to replace the one with the chocolate stains), but Kathleen laughed at that too.
One T-shirt?!? I called that shopping?!?
No. No. No. No. No. No. No.
I was getting a whole new wardrobe. And she wouldn’t even let me pay for anything, even though I told her Mum had given me emergency money. (I wasn’t worried about spending it. I figured if you’re twelve years old and you have a crush on someone, a new T-shirt is an emergency.)
Kathleen insisted on paying for everything herself. I could be mean and say that was so I had to get what she liked—but it wasn’t that.25 She did it because of all the things my mum did for her when she was young.
She didn’t say that exactly, but I figured it out pretty fast.
She couldn’t hide it once we walked into that store.
Kathleen was acting perfectly normal, I mean for Kathleen. She had her lip curled up, and she was picking through the clothes like they were somebody else’s dirty laundry.
She’d just said that there was “absolutely nothing here even worth looking at” when she suddenly sucked in her breath and put her hand over her mouth. I thought she must have forgotten something important, like her weekly massage or a dentist appointment or a niece left at the airport.
But it wasn’t about that. It was about a pale pink sweater.
The second she noticed it on the display she bolted over and picked it up.
No, that’s wrong. She didn’t pick it up. She “embraced” it, like the sweater had just come back to her from the war or something. I think she might even have had tears in her eyes. She started babbling about how the sweater was exactly the same as this one she really, really wanted when she was young. I knew the part about their father leaving them and Grammie not having any money or anything and how she took this horrible job as a secretary for this bad-smelling lawyer because it was the only way they could “scrape by.”
But I didn’t realize that Mum had to look after Kathleen from then on.
Anyway, Kathleen wanted this sweater so badly, but she didn’t have any money. She dreamt about it every night, but she knew she’d never get it. They were living on powdered skim milk and meat that had been “reduced for quick sale.”
There was no way her mother was going to spring for a pale pink sweater that would show the dirt and wasn’t even very warm. Then one day, Mum—Kathleen kept calling her
“Dodo,” which completely cracked me up. No one calls her Dodo. She’s Dorothy—and you even have to pronounce the middle “o.” Dor O Thee.
Sorry. Where was I?
Oh, yeah. Then one day, “Dodo” came home from her night job at the Burger Palace. Kathleen used to wait up for her because every now and again Mum would bring her back a “Queenburger” that someone had ordered by mistake when what they really wanted was a “Princess Pattie.” 26
That night, though, Kathleen almost didn’t bother coming down because she couldn’t smell any grease. (That’s how she’d know if Mum had managed to scavenge some leftovers. Nice, eh?) But Kathleen didn’t want her to think that the only reason she waited for her was because Mum brought her food.
So she ran down and gave Mum a big hug.27 Mum had her hands behind her back and said, “I’ve got a treat for you.”
You know the ending. No homeless Queenburger for Kathleen that night. Mum had bought her the sweater.
By this time, Kathleen really did have tears in her eyes.
She said it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for her. And it was especially nice coming from Dodo. (This was where Kathleen started talking in this really high-pitched voice and swallowing a lot.) All sorts of guys28 wanted to take Mum out back then,29 but Mum always said no because she was too busy studying.
Kathleen said she did study a lot, but that wasn’t the real reason Mum wouldn’t go out with them. She was too proud to admit that she had nothing to wear. (The Burger Palace uniform just didn’t cut it on a big date, I guess.)
But instead of buying herself something, Mum spent her hard-earned money on Kathleen. The money she had left, that is, after she’d paid for her tuition and helped Grammie out with the groceries.
Figures. That’s just like Mum.
Kathleen managed to pull herself together. Boy, was that a relief. It was a nice story and everything, but I really didn’t want to have to hold Kathleen up while she bawled her eyes out over a pink sweater.30 I was already scared she was going to get mascara on it and we’d have to pay for it.
Kathleen just gulped a couple of times, though, touched up her makeup and we kept right on shopping.
There were no more tears after that, but the stories just kept coming. Every little sock or hair band I picked up reminded her of something.
Like how Dad dropped into the Burger Palace for a Duchess Dog one day when he was at med school and then ate there every night for the next four months until Mum agreed to go out with him.31
Like what a good dancer Dad was.32
Like what beautiful curly hair Dad had.33
Like what nice long legs Dad had.
I was starting to think Kathleen had a crush on Dad, but I figured that was ridiculous. He was so much older than she was. It would have been like me and—hmmmm.
Oh. Right.
It would have been like me and Nick. I sort of laughed.
Kathleen looked at me and sort of laughed too. Then she came right out and admitted that she’d had this big crush on “Mitch”—Dad, that is—for years.
Completely innocent, of course.
Of course.
Kathleen said I had to realize what it was like for her family back then. Mitch was like a knight in shining armor34 rescuing them from this horrible situation. Their no-good father left them with nothing but bills, and then along came this kind, handsome, wonderful man. A doctor too—or just about! It was as if everything was going to be all right from the moment he bought that first Duchess Dog.
I could sort of imagine Dad making them feel that way.
He must have been pretty amazing, I mean, before he lost his hair and everything.
Kathleen could even be kind of funny. She told this one story about how, when she was twelve or so, she walked in on Mum and Dad “kissing.” (There was no way they were just “kissing,” but that’s what she said.) Anyway, Mum got all prissy and flustered and said that Mitch—the doctor—was just showing her where her spleen was. (See what I mean? They weren’t just “kissing.”) I really laughed because I could just picture Mum doing that. It’s like when I catch her eating Oreo cookies or ketchup chips or something highly unorganic like that, and she tries to make out as if she’s doing some sort of scientific research on junk food or something.
That whole day we spent together was fun. Kathleen even took me to her hair appointment. They didn’t have any openings, but Kathleen made a big fuss with the receptionist about all the money she spends there on dye jobs and facials and other things I don’t even like to think about. The customers were beginning to stare, so the head guy promised to squeeze me in for a cut and blow-dry. I was sort of embarrassed about it, but when the poor little receptionist scurried off to see who could “do” me, Kathleen turned around and winked at me like “We did it, kid!” or “You and me, baby, all the way!” Something like that. I can’t describe it exactly, but it was definitely a “we’re buddies” type of thing to do.
We were both pretty tired when we got home, so we just flaked out in front of the TV. I was worried Kathleen was going to make me watch one of those old-fashioned shows about lords and ladies where they laugh at things that aren’t funny and talk about things you don’t understand. You know, your typical grown-up’s idea of a good show. Something you could almost imagine my mother approving of.
Something even I wouldn’t want to watch.
So was I ever relieved when she said, “Why don’t we make a big bowl of popcorn and watch the Home Design Channel?”
The popcorn was pathetic—Kathleen doesn’t take butter or salt—but everything else was perfect. It turned out we both loved decorating shows. And we both loved the really bad ones as much as the really good ones. (The bad ones are way funnier.)
We talked and talked and talked and I wasn’t shy at all.
I didn’t always agree with her at first. Kathleen likes her rooms like she likes her popcorn.
Plain.
Or, as she’d say, “Simple, but elegant.” (I’m the type that goes for the butter, the salt and the dill pickle flavoring. If I’d been rich and the type of person who liked other people to look at me, I’d have gone for a house with the works too.)
The more Kathleen talked, though, the more I started to understand what she meant. I actually began to see why those pouffy curtains were a big mistake. Or why that lady was smart to knock the wall out between her kitchen and her dining room. Or how a simple, deep grey velvet would have looked so much more sophisticated than that busy flowered fabric. I started to get really excited about how I could decorate under my bed, especially when that show came on about “Making the most of low ceilings.”
I got so excited I almost told Kathleen about Dreemland. I said, “You know, I…” She turned and looked at me like she was really interested in what I was going to say. That’s when I knew I had to change the subject. I didn’t want to ruin everything by being weird. Telling her I liked lying under my bed. Making it like my own little house. What was she going to say to that? I don’t know—but I knew what she’d be thinking: Get this kid out of here.
Kathleen kept looking at me with her eyebrows way up, so I had to think of something to say.
Brain panic.
Finally I said, “I…I think you should produce a decorating show. You’d be good at it.”
I love it when things like that happen. When you just accidentally say the right thing. Kathleen’s face got all happy.
That’s exactly what she’d always wanted to do! she said.
Bitsie ’n’ Bytesie just kind of fell into her lap, but she never really wanted to do kids’ TV. She doesn’t really understand children.35
Home design she understood. That’s where her heart was,36 she said. She was really working hard trying to come up with an idea for a series. The problem was “the market was flooded.” There were so many home decorating shows already on the air. Kathleen needed to come up with one that was different, something with an “angle,” a “hook” that the broadcaster would go for. You can have the world’s greatest idea for a show, but if one of the channels won’t pick it up, it’s not worth much. Etc. Etc. Etc.
She was really running off at the mouth by this time and I wasn’t getting one hundred percent of what she was talking about. But it didn’t matter. I was just glad to make her so happy.
It was like I’d given her a pale pink sweater or something.
Of course, all Bitsie thought was why didn’t he get one too.
24 It was when I pointed out a jacket I really liked – but hey, she still laughed.
25 Or at least all that.
26 You got to figure the food Grammie was feeding them was pretty bad if Kathleen would get all excited about a secondhand Queenburger in a soggy bun.
27 Kathleen?!? Big hug?!? How badly did she want those burgers?
28 All sorts of guys??????
29 Take my mother out?????
30 She got me to try on the sweater, and I really liked it, but she said it wasn’t my color. So much for being sentimental, eh?
31 I guess after that many Duchess Dogs, anybody would go organic.
32 This one I don’t even like to think about.
33 Dad had hair?
34 She actually said that.
35 No kidding. Though of course I didn’t say that. In fact, I tried really hard to look like it wasn’t even true.
36 So that’s where it was. I’m just joking. Kathleen has a good heart. It was just a little shy about speaking up. Can you blame it? Kathleen’s head was pretty pushy.