6 Dates to Disaster (Bird Face) (Volume 3)
By Cynthia T. Toney
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People will hide just about anything inside a jewelry box—especially a secret.
As a kid, I tried saving a hard-boiled Easter egg in mine. But during a warm Louisiana spring, it doesn’t take long for that secret to get out. Two hours on a Saturday afternoon at the biggest flea market in the parish, and I hadn’t found a single jewelry box.
My stepsister, Alice, and I hoofed from table to table, covering territory as quickly as possible. Wearing shorts … in February.
If it hadn’t been for the merchants’ canopies, we would’ve sunburned. A little more air between my body and the one standing next to me would’ve been nice, but the place was too crowded with shoppers.
“How adorable!” A lady at the next booth squealed over a wooden Easter bunny yard ornament that could be personalized with her child’s name.
I crossed my eyes. Even as a six-year-old, I wouldn’t have wanted anything in front of my house to read “Wendy.”
Enough distractions. Back to the day’s goal. Finding a jewelry box for Mom among thousands of items scattered across a hundred folding tables might be harder than I thought.
“There’s too much junk in this flea market.” I rolled my shoulders and sighed.
The booth owner stared daggers at me.
“Haven’t you spent enough time looking? Why don’t you just buy her a new one?” Alice flicked perspiration from above her lip with a fingertip. Her strawberry-blonde hair had begun to frizz, and she lifted it off her neck, fanning it behind her.
I shook my head, ponytail slapping my jaw. “Anyone can go to a store and do that. It’ll mean more to Mom if the jewelry box has history—or at least some character. I know the right one is here somewhere.”
Alice shrugged. “You should know. She’s been your mom longer than she’s been mine.” She picked up a dingy-white crocheted vest and held it against her front.
Mom and Papa D—short for Daniel—had been married almost six months. In the four months between the end of eighth grade and my first semester at LeMoyne High School, Alice had gone from being a classmate I hardly knew to being both my running buddy and my sister. We suffered through our share of quarrels, but living with each other had become easier since Christmas. And it was nice having a sister to go with me on errands. If only she would focus.
Alice sniffed the vest under the armholes. She slid her hands through the openings and shrugged the vest onto her shoulders.
My gaze traveled two booths down toward a collection of antique-looking tabletop accessories. “I’ll be over there.” I pointed.
“I’m coming.” Alice slipped out of the garment and followed me.
Rusted and tarnished items cluttered the table. A pair of wrought-iron candlesticks towered above the rest of the display.
I gasped. Beneath the candlesticks sat a large mahogany box almost the same color as our hair—Mom’s and mine.
Hands shaking, I moved the candlesticks aside and lifted the box. It contained three drawers with brass pulls. The sides and hinged top showed only a few scratches. I set the box back down and opened one of the drawers.
“See?” I whispered as though in the presence of a holy relic. “This is what I’m talking about.” I glanced at Alice to make sure she was paying attention. “Made of solid wood with red velvet inside. You can even see impressions in the velvet where bangle bracelets were stored. This is all real.”
Alice rolled her blue eyes but grinned.
“It’s the right size, too—much bigger than her old one. It should hold all her jewelry and Grand-mère Robichaud’s antique pieces. She won’t need those cardboard boxes anymore. She’ll love it.”
“Then let’s get it.” Alice reached inside her pocket for some money, which she’d never lacked since I’d known her. As part of the Rend family, Mom and I were still getting used to having extra money for luxury items.
Alice and I split the cost fifty-fifty, and I bagged the box. I’d never spent that much on a gift before, but Mom was worth it.
Alice phoned Papa D that we’d meet him and my little stepbrother, Adam, at the car. They’d found gifts for Mom, too.
This was going to be her best birthday ever.
#
Papa D stopped his car in the driveway so I could get out and check the mail. I rifled through the stack as I made my way to the house.
I halted, my athletic shoes screeching on the cement.
A letter from Anchorage, Alaska! Nice and thick, too. I pushed forward.
Please, God, let it hold good news from Sam about Mrs. V.
Or at least not bad news that her Alzheimer’s had worsened.
Mrs. Villaturo had been gone how long now? Five months, but she was the only grandmother I had, even though she was really Sam’s. I’d accepted the fact that Mrs. V had to move close to her family so they could look out for her. But after living next door to her at my old house and seeing her every day for eight years, I worried how she was doing and when I’d ever see her again.
I dumped the rest of the mail on the foyer table. Dashing in a zigzag obstacle course around our dogs, Belle and Chanceaux, I headed to my room.
The bag holding the jewelry box sat on the floor inside my door where Alice must’ve placed it. I passed it and crossed the room. With the envelope from Alaska tucked under my chin, I opened a window to let the heat escape. Good, a breeze. I switched on the ceiling fan to clear the remaining hot air.
My chest tightened as I inserted a finger under the flap and ripped it open. The pages unfolded to Sam’s big, blocky print. I giggled with my mouth closed. He shouted when he wrote—and he was the deaf one. My chest loosened.
Hi, Wendy.
How are you?
No bad news to start, thank goodness. I plopped on the edge of my bed to read.
Stuff about Christmas and winter vacation. And snow. Sam and his buddies from the deaf school were still having snowball fights. And here I was, sweating.
If only I could be there. I closed my eyes and imagined luminous, cooling crystals sprinkling onto my skin like fairy’s magic. I inhaled deeply through my nose and felt the frigid air biting inside my nostrils. For a moment, I played in the snow with Sam, smashing a snowball in his face, his eyes glowing warm.
Silly daydreaming. I blinked hard and returned to the words on the page.
A snowplow had to clear the road for my dad and me to visit Grandma at the assisted-living home yesterday.
A jealous pang struck my heart. At least Sam and his dad, Tony, got to visit her. Tony—not my favorite person—wouldn’t listen when I tried to help Mrs. V stay in Louisiana so I could visit her. But although I couldn’t see her myself, I was happy for Mrs. V that Sam and his family lived near her new home. I’d talked to her twice on the phone since she left, when Sam thought she was having a good day. She’d received my Christmas card and thanked me for it, her voice light and sweet. I’d almost cried.
The second page was one of Sam’s pencil sketches—an original, not a copy. He’d drawn a scene through his bedroom window. Wow, so this was what it looked like outside his house, the snow disguising everything but the trees. I’d seen snow only twice that I could remember. Its thin layer on the ground hadn’t lasted but a day or two. No comparison to the billowy mounds of white depicted in Sam’s drawing.
I moved to the next page, and a note fell onto my lap.
From Mrs. V! She’d used elegant ivory stationery with a black monogrammed “V” at the top. Her script ran uneven and broken like that of a child learning to write. But she must’ve been clear-headed. She described her apartment, the courtyard view, and the friendly people she’d met who took care of her.
My worry eased, knowing they treated her kindly.
I miss you, Wendy, and I hope you’ll be able to come see me soon.
My eyes filled with tears, my heart aching for a talk with her in person. I lowered the note to my knee, sniffed, and blinked.
The charcoal portrait Sam had done of Mrs. V and me before they left in September hung on the wall opposite my bed. I’d spent a month’s allowance to buy the frame it deserved. It was the most beautiful remembrance Sam could’ve given me. But sometimes it hurt to look at the picture, I missed her so much. I wiped the corners of my eyes with a knuckle.
And I missed Sam, too. I wasn’t often willing to admit it, even to myself, but I thought about him a lot. He acted as much a friend to me as people I’d known for years—after I got used to him. Once I adjusted to the way his voice sounded all nasally and harsh because of his deafness and focused on his eyes and his body language, he communicated kindness and caring better than most hearing people.
I sighed. Well, enough of that sappy stuff. At least Mrs. V was doing fine for now. I set her note aside and continued with Sam’s letter.
Keep working on your parents to let you visit us. Mom and my sister, Sarah, already have the guest room prepared so you and Alice can spend a couple days here if you like. They made me get all my sports equipment out, so I hope I didn’t waste my time.
I snorted. Guys. The same everywhere.
If you plan to stay at least two weeks during the summer, I can get you on as a short-term volunteer with Alaska Wildlife Conservation. We’d have a great time together.
I was working on getting there, every chance I got. Mom said we might take a family vacation to Anchorage in June or July. Summers were beautiful and cool. If Mrs. V could hold on in spite of the Alzheimer’s …
My stomach flipped, and I gave my head a quick shake. No. No sad thoughts today. Mom’s birthday was Friday, and we finally had a family to celebrate with us.
I finished Sam’s letter, my spirits lifting by his funny story of a deaf basketball game. Two players had an argument in sign language, some of it not very nice. Sam knew how to make me laugh and feel comfortable about being able to hear when he couldn’t.
Learn enough American Sign Language before you come to Alaska so these jerks I call friends can’t talk about you right in front of your face. LOL.
Later,
Sam
P.S. I know you can do it.
I took a deep breath, puffed my cheeks, and blew it out. The book on ASL I’d checked out of the library—and renewed twice—rested on the shelf of my nightstand. My finger movements in mimicking the photographs to form the letters were awkward, spastic-looking. I’d tried watching videos online, but the instructors’ fingers moved so fast, I couldn’t follow them. After pausing the video a hundred times, I’d given up.
The alphabet would take a lot of practice to spell even my own name smoothly, and I still had a bunch of the most common whole-word signs to memorize. I reached for the book and placed it on the bed next to me. I’d better try again tonight.
I folded Mrs. V’s note with Sam’s letter and returned them both to the envelope to answer later. I had other things to do.
The jewelry box needed a closer visual inspection than I’d given it at the flea market. If it needed some serious TLC, I’d better get started.
I carried the bag holding the jewelry box into the window’s natural light and withdrew the box. Tilting it one way and another, I examined the wood surfaces.
Humph. Next to all the other grimy antiques on the booth’s display table, it hadn’t seemed that dirty. I set the box down and headed to the bathroom.
I grabbed an old washcloth and dampened it under the faucet. Sitting cross-legged on the floor under the window, I wiped the outside of the box clean.
The insides of the drawers contained some grunge and small amounts of trash. One at a time, I slid each drawer out and dumped its contents onto the floor. A paper clip, a few buttons, an earring back. Real gold? I held it up to the light. Nah.
So many scraps of paper. Wadded department store receipts. Half a business card from an eye doctor.
A tightly folded piece of blue paper was stuck in the back corner of a drawer. I pulled it free and unfolded the bottom of a page from one of those small-sized spiral notebooks people use for journals. It had one edge of ragged paper fingers torn from the spiral, but the paper felt crisp and looked clean. Where had I seen paper like that before? I opened it.
Meet me in the park after the Mardi Gras parade. It was written in a loose, flowing script that could belong to a male or female. No signature. How odd.
My back straightened.
Someone had hidden this note. Hidden it where no one else would find it, shoving it like that to the rear corner of a drawer so small. To keep the meeting a secret without throwing away the note—and still be able to look at it again later. Or, maybe the note never arrived where it was supposed to go.
My curiosity kicked in like it had when I’d learned about a lost uncle no one in the family wanted to talk about.
Who’d written this note, and where was the person it belonged to? One thing for sure—the sender must be someone important to the recipient.
My eyes narrowed. Was the note a directive for a romantic rendezvous? An exchange of some sort? What? How did an old jewelry box wind up at the flea market with what appeared to be a new note still inside?
If the message referred to this year’s Mardi Gras parade, it was scheduled for next Saturday.
Anticipation drummed in my chest.
What if the sender or the recipient showed up at the park next Saturday and no one else came?
I threw away everything from inside the box but kept the note.
#
“Don’t fill up on snacks. I’m ordering pizza in a minute.” At the kitchen sink, Mom yanked a paper towel from the roll, wet it, and attacked a white paint smudge on her hand.
I lowered a chocolate chip cookie from my lips. “What’s the occasion? Besides you being in the middle of a salvage project, of course.” A pair of nightstands being painted in the garage awaited new life in the master bedroom.
“Family meeting.” Mom scrubbed harder without looking up. “Then we’ll watch a movie together. You girls can choose.”
Alice chomped a bite of apple and headed toward the living room. “I’ll go see what’s available.”
Mom dried her hands and reached for a pizza coupon. Thriftiness was a hard habit to break.
The phone in my pocket vibrated, and as I looked at the screen, so did my heart. David Griffin. Our relationship stood on solid ground again after dating once in September, breaking up over my friendship with Sam, and then agreeing to start over as friends ourselves. Friends who didn’t tell each other who else they could be friends with. Friends who respected what the other person cared about.
We’d finally gone out on another date last weekend to a movie with David’s older brother and his girlfriend.
“Just one cookie.” I kissed Mom’s cheek.
“Hi, David.” I carried the cookie and the call to my room.
Life was good.
“How was the flea market?” David’s deep, masculine voice made words like flea and market sound exciting. And he’d just turned fifteen.
“Good. Mission accomplished.” My voice strayed toward girly and giddy around him if I wasn’t careful. I cleared my throat.
“What did you find?”
“A vintage jewelry box for my mom’s birthday next week.”
“Great. Well, if you’re not busy next Saturday, maybe you could go with my family and me to the parade. My grandfather commands one of the floats for the army veterans, so we never miss it.”
Hearing the word parade right after reading the note made my scalp tingle. I rubbed the back of my head. Maybe I could squeeze in some snoop—uh, observing. And it wouldn’t be obvious if I were with someone else.
“Yeah. Sure. I’d love to. Just let me clear it with Mom and Papa D.” And make sure this outing wouldn’t ruin my going with David on an evening date the Saturday after that. In spite of Mom and Papa D’s date-only-every-other-weekend rule, going to the parade would be a family event with David’s parents. It was a family-friendly Mardi Gras parade, after all. They probably wouldn’t count it.
“Okay. I hope they let you.”
“Me too. What time would you pick me up?”
“Quarter to twelve so we can find a good spot. Parade starts at one. And we should be back by five, my dad said.”
“Good, I’ll need to tell them that.”
“Call me back?”
“I will, after dinner. We’re eating soon.”
“All right. Later, then. ’Bye, Wendy.”
“’Bye, David.”
What a successful weekend this was turning out to be.
#
When the pizza arrived, I’d already gotten permission to go with David to the parade. My family filtered into the kitchen one at a time, grabbed a drink and a paper plate, and took a seat in the dining room. Alice appeared last at the table, eyes red and cheeks flushed.
Uh-oh. What did I miss? She avoided looking my way by staring at her plate. I searched everyone else’s faces but got nothing.
Mom sealed her lips together tight.
Papa D cleared his throat, and Alice looked up. “We need to talk as a family about a change that will affect us all, at least for a few months, maybe longer. But it’s not a tragedy.” He glared at Alice.
She shifted her gaze from his face toward the pizza box.
Adam stared at the box, too, but hungrily. He swung his leg repeatedly and kicked my chair.
“What is it, Papa D?” I reached under the table and stilled Adam’s foot. Whatever Mom and Papa D wanted to talk over with us might not be a tragedy, but I didn’t like being the last one to know about anything.
He took a deep breath and spoke without any emotion in his voice. “I was laid off from my job.”
“Laid off?” I never would’ve guessed that. “But ‘laid off’ means it’s temporary, right?”
“No. The company’s downsizing, so it’s permanent.” His jaw clenched.
“Oh.” I slumped into my chair. “I’m sorry, Papa D.”
Mom stroked my ponytail. “The timing is bad because we just bought this house and have a big mortgage payment now.”
Papa D nodded, not making eye contact with anyone, his lips pressed together.
Mom’s eyes softened, and she placed her hand over his. “Our budget required Daniel’s income from his job as well as his Air Force retirement to provide for our family. We’d agreed I’d stop working, but now I’ll also have to look for a job while he looks for a new one.”
“But you’ll find another good job, won’t you?” I shifted my gaze back and forth between my parents’ faces.
“We don’t know what we’ll find …” Papa D said.
“Or who will find one first,” Mom added softly.
“If I were old enough, I’d get a job and help out.” I’d have said anything to lift the gloomy cloud hovering over the table. Mom’s face had lost its color. Alice’s blotchy complexion and downturned mouth weren’t helping to lighten anyone’s spirits. Adam’s head rested on the table like he’d given up on eating any pizza.
Papa D smiled a weak little smile.
My eyes opened wide, and I sat up tall. “I can at least babysit. Maybe every day after school. I could make a ton of money.” Not really, but I used a cheerful tone.
Mom’s eyelids crinkled at the corners. “You may be able to babysit for someone else once in a while, but if Daniel and I are both away from home a lot, we’ll be counting on you and Alice to take care of Adam and do more around the house, too. And of course, your schoolwork.”
Alice remained clammed up. It wasn’t like her not to offer her two cents in a family discussion. Other than the obvious, what was eating her? There must be more to this than Mom and Papa D were telling.
“What happens if one of you doesn’t find a job right away or it doesn’t pay enough?”
Papa D swallowed hard. “I’ll be honest. That could be the case.”
“So what would happen?” No new clothes for Easter? No more pizza? And a realization yanked me so hard my heart skipped a beat. I turned from Papa D to Mom. “What about our vacation to Alaska this summer?”
She shook her head gently. “I’m afraid we can’t answer that question right now.”
My stomach wrenched. “You mean we’re going to have to give up everything we want?”
Everyone else’s head jerked in my direction.
Two vertical lines appeared between Mom’s eyebrows. “I promise you won’t have to make any more sacrifices than anyone else will.” As if in pain, she blinked rapidly and swallowed hard.
Her face softened my heart. I’d seen that look before when money was tight after Dad left. She’d worked long hours until she married Papa D and had been so happy staying home the past few months. She loved having time to cook dinner every night and create beautiful things for our new house out of salvaged junk.
Papa D squeezed Mom’s hand but spoke to me. “We’ll talk more about this another time. Right now, let’s give thanks for the food we’re about to eat.”
I bowed my head and added a silent prayer that I’d find a way to see Mrs. V while she was still alive. And Sam, before he had time to forget me.
It was the quietest pizza dinner we’d ever eaten. No one mentioned watching the movie.
#
After dinner, Alice and I trudged to our separate rooms. She slammed her door.
I took a deep breath as I phoned David to tell him the parade for next Saturday was on.
He chuckled. “You don’t sound very happy about it.”
I lifted the pitch of my voice. “Sorry. I am, really. Happy, that is.” My stepfather losing his job wasn’t the kind of news I wanted to share with anyone. Not yet anyway. Not even with David.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”
“Everything’s fine.” Just a tiny fib. “I’ll be ready at eleven forty-five.”
“Great. We tailgate out the back of Dad’s SUV. My mom will have stuff for us to eat.”
“Should I bring a lawn chair?”
“No, we have plenty of those. But you’ll have to carry a flag.”
“What?”
“A little American flag. You know, to wave high in the air when my grandfather’s float goes by. Veterans, remember? We want him to notice us.”
“Um, I’m fresh out of flags.”
He chuckled again. “Don’t worry. I’ll have one for you.”
“What a relief. I thought for a minute I wouldn’t qualify to go.” My delivery was dry.
His laughter boomed.
Warmth filled me to the tips of my fingers and toes. He always got it when I tried to be funny. Not everyone did.
“It’ll be fun.” His voice lowered. “Can’t wait to see you.”
“Me too.” Even though we’d see each other at school all week.
Another male voice came through from the background, followed by grunts and what sounded like a slap. Someone yelled, “Hey!”
“Sorry, Wendy, but I’ve gotta cut it short. My mom’s making my brother and me do our own laundry. Something about not wanting to raise helpless men. I want to beat Ben to the washing machine. I’ll see you Monday, okay?”
I laughed. “Okay. Hope you win. ’Bye, David.”
“’Bye, Wendy.”
I sighed and plugged the phone into its charger.
If only Alice and I could become like David and his brother, playing and teasing each other all the time. Sometimes even their parents joined in, and everybody laughed and had fun. But they’d been together since forever. How long would it take for Alice and me and the rest of our family to be like theirs?
At least I could get out of the house next weekend and be with a family that didn’t have so many problems.
A buzzer went off in my brain. Right. Being in this new family did feel like one problem after another.
I rubbed my temples. The day had caught up with me, and I blinked heavy lids, my eyeballs dry and scratchy. The temptation to shower and crawl into bed with a book and forget about real life was strong, but I needed to check on Alice. She would do the same for me in spite of any disagreements we’d had. I left my room and rapped lightly on her door.
“Come in.”
“Hey, you wanna talk?” I kept my voice low and eased the door closed behind me.
She sat in bed, her back resting on pillows piled high against the headboard, her muscular legs stretched out in front. “If you want.” She let the TV remote slip from her hand.
I perched on the edge of the bed. “I’m guessing you already knew about Papa D losing his job.” I twisted my mouth to one side.
“Yeah, but only a few minutes before you did.” She crossed her arms. “I had asked him for something special, and I sort of dragged it out of him why he couldn’t grant it.”
“Oh.” I studied her face, trying to get a clue to what it could be. “What did you want?”
“Summer music camp at Baylor University.” She paused. “That’s in Texas.”
Texas? I hesitated a sec. “Why not something closer to home?”
Alice’s face clouded. “You want to go to Alaska.”
My stomach took a roller-coaster plummet. “But that’s to see Mrs. V, who’s been like a grandmother to me. I hardly remember my grand-mère . She died when I was six years old.” I touched my throat, reaching for the gold crucifix she left me, more often around my neck than not.
Alice rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s the reason.”
How mean! I jumped to my feet and placed my hands on my hips. “So what if I get to see Sam, too? Our whole family was going to Alaska for vacation. You’d get to enjoy it as much as I would.” My head pounded.
“Well, I need to go to a good music camp every summer so I can improve my clarinet. A prestigious camp where someone who can offer me a scholarship to a top music school will eventually hear me. That’s more important than some stupid vacation thousands of miles away.” She bugged out her eyes.
My face heated like I’d eaten Tabasco sauce. She didn’t have to call the trip stupid. What was she, eight?
I counted to ten and let my anger go for the sake of our friendship and family tie. “I’m just saying that if you choose a camp in Louisiana this time, maybe you can stay with one of my relatives on my Dad’s side.” My words came out calm and low. “That would save money, and at least you’d get to go to camp.”
“You don’t understand how important the right camp is.” Tears springing to her eyes, she turned away and slid off the opposite side of the bed.
Groan. I did understand how important her music was to her. I really did. It had been her constant friend when she didn’t have any other because her military family moved so much.
Her shoulders shook with each sob.
I’d never seen her so upset, not even when I started dating David before she paired up with my cousin Jerome.
She wiped her face with her hands and sniffed.
“Alice, come on. I’m only trying to help.” I pleaded with her. “Besides, if it’s a music camp close to Bayou Calmon, maybe you could see Jerome more often.”
With her back to me, she tossed her hair and tucked her fists under her arms. She was done talking.
I sighed and bit my lip. No use saying anything else and ticking her off further. I slipped out of the room.
One by one, my family’s plans were falling apart. There had to be a way to make some money so none of us, including me, had to give up on our dreams. But it had to be bigger money than babysitting would get me.
#
At church Sunday, Mom knelt for fifteen minutes before Mass started, forehead pressed to her clasped hands. Papa D did that thing guys do when they’re thinking—resting elbows on knees while he sat. Maybe Lutherans didn’t kneel as much as Catholics did. But he hung his head and closed his eyes, and I could tell he was praying.
I cut my eyes to each side to check if anyone was watching us. Was it my imagination, or were people looking our way and whispering? Who could possibly know already that Papa D had lost his job? Just the same, I knelt for the second time, close to him, and shielded him from prying eyes.