Lila Blue (11 page)

"If you can sew a bookmark,
you can learn to knit," Lila said. "You're very coordinated in the
kitchen, and you're good with your hands. You'll see."

When I tried putting my jeans on
after breakfast, the rubbed places on my legs still hurt, so Lila loaned me a
jumper she'd made for herself. That's when I noticed we were about the same
height and size. I thought she was bigger, but she wasn't. I think I still saw
myself as a little kid, but her clothes fit me. Even her shoes, size ten.

I wore her long denim jumper over a
pink t-shirt that Shelly sent me from Wisconsin. The shirt was the tourist kind
showing a giant fish shaking hands with a fisherman. The caption was,
"Meet the Catch of the Day at Jessie's Fish House." Shelly had a
wacky sense of humor sometimes, but this was ridiculous. I was relieved that
the bib of the jumper covered the picture on the shirt. I didn't care about
fashion, but even I had limits to what I was willing to wear in public.

"We'll knit for a while,"
Lila said, "and then we can drive down the coast to a fish and chowder
place for lunch. It's right across from a beach where seals rest. Sometimes you
can see fifty of them there. Does that sound good?"

I nodded. Everything sounded good
to me.

The knitting lesson went well, and
though it was terribly awkward for the first hour, I finally was able to hold
both needles and guide the yarn where it needed to go without dropping
everything and making a tangled mess. My arms and shoulders ached from my fierce
concentration, so I put everything down to go make us some tea.

Being on the Oregon coast turned a
person into a tea connoisseur. Lila had about a dozen kinds in her tea
canister, and by then I'd tried them all. I choose lemon grass and orange
blossom tea, and brought the tray in to the couch where Lila and I were
working. The heavy clouds outside were dumping sheets of rain on the beach, and
I was happy to be indoors.

Lila barely looked at her knitting.
Her hands knew what to do and they did it. She hummed and glanced outside.
Chloe and Zoe were curled up together asleep on a finished afghan Lila had
arranged for them by her feet before we started the knitting lesson. A couple
of times while she was teaching me, she had to remind them they had their own
yarn and couldn't play with ours.

I poured our tea and inhaled warm
fragrant steam from my tea mug while I waited for it to cool enough to sip. It
was hard to remember my life before Lila. I had learned so many new things, and
Lila seemed to believe I could do anything. I felt right on the verge of
something wonderful.

While I sat enjoying being safe and
warm, I felt something sticky trickle out between my legs. I hurried to the
bathroom, but dark blood had already soaked through my cotton panties and left
a damp stain on Lila's denim jumper. I was so embarrassed and humiliated I
cried. I sat on the toilet wiping myself the best I could. I couldn't figure
out how to get to my room where I had stored my box of sanitary pads, so
finally I had to call for help.

"Grandma?" I said.
"Grandma, I made a mess. I need help."

She came to the bathroom door,
opened it a crack, and peeked inside. "What is it?"

"Blood," I said.
"I've ruined your jumper. I'm so sorry."

Lila laughed, "Oh, Cassandra,
everything is fine. You don't need to be sorry about anything. This is all
perfectly normal. We'll get everything cleaned up in no time."

She did help me clean up quickly by
getting the pads and clean underwear from my room and another of her jumpers,
this one red corduroy. "Like your red dream," she said, as if the
correspondence delighted her.

 Then she gave me a lesson in
washing blood out of fabrics, just as she'd taught me so many other things.
"Cold water as soon as possible," she said.

She held my soiled underwear under
the tap in the laundry room and squirted liquid soap on it. “Just scrub the
blood out, rinse it good, and then it's ready to go in the laundry with the
rest of the clothes."

"Your turn," she said,
handing me the jumper that had a damp place on the skirt about the size of a
quarter.

I washed the blood out, and it
wasn't that bad. She was right. Nothing was ruined after all.

"It's all part of being a
woman, Cassandra. Welcome to the Moon Lady Club. I'm proud of you." She
hugged me, and I collapsed in her arms and let her hold me and stroke my back.

"Oh, sweetie, isn't life
amazing?" she said.

I had no idea how to respond, so I
didn't even try.

She took my hand and led me back to
the couch. "Is this your first time?"

"Second," I said.
"The first time was just a little, right before school got out."

"Good. This is perfect,"
she said. "We were here at home, so it was easy. Now you can plan ahead
and be prepared."

She went to her desk and pulled a
little booklet out of the back of the top drawer. "Here," she said,
bringing it back to me along with a red pen. "Here's a two-year calendar.
It can be your moon book. Circle the days you bleed, and soon you'll find a
pattern and will be able to predict your menses by how you feel. The first year
or two it might be erratic, but soon your ovaries will get on schedule, and
you'll be very good at knowing when to carry extra supplies when you go out.
For now it will be wise to pack clean underwear and a couple of pads in your
backpack, just in case it surprises you."

I nodded and sighed. I thought back
to the first time, the day my mom had called menstruation a curse and thrown my
underwear away. I circled June fourth and fifth and now July second.

Sitting here with Lila, who acted
like bleeding was a special privilege, it was hard to believe only a month ago
things had been so different for me. Maybe my whole life in California was a
bad dream, and I was finally waking up.

I went back to concentrating on
knitting, and pretty soon my stitches became more even. They were still too tight,
though, and my hands cramped from being so tense. Lila said I needed to loosen
up, let the fingers and the needles and the yarn dance gently with one another.

"A waltz, not a tango,"
she said, and when I clearly didn't understand the analogy, she got up and
danced with one of the sofa pillows.

"Watch," she said, and
she began to sing one of her country songs, "I was waltzin’ with my
darlin’." She glided around the living room, gracefully missing the
furniture and cats, who woke up and jumped on the couch beside me to get out of
her way.

"Not tango," she said.
She struck a severe pose, yanked the pillow to her chest and thrust it away
suddenly, sternly, her head and neck high and rigid.

I giggled so hard I had to put my
knitting needles down for fear of poking myself. Just as she started to sit
back down, the phone rang.

My mother! It was almost eleven.
I'd completely forgotten she told me to call at ten. Yesterday afternoon seemed
a lifetime ago, and she was in that past life, not the one I was enjoying this
morning in Oregon.

I scrambled to answer the phone,
but Lila was already talking before I could gather my wits about me.

"Janice," she said.
"How good to hear your voice. How are you, sweetheart?"

Lila listened and said, "She's
fine. She's right here. I'll have her pick up on the extension in the bedroom,
and we can all talk."

Lila's voice sounded so calm and
full of authority, some of my panic drained away. I had no idea what to say to
my mother. I wasn't even ready to hear her voice, but I went to my room and
picked up the phone.

"Come visit us here,
Janice," Lila said, and I wanted to yell NO, but I didn't make a sound.
"I want to show you the village. When is the last time you had a real
vacation?"

My mom said she was too busy at
work, because the manager was having surgery and she had to take over.
"Sandy," she said. "Are you on the line?"

"Hi, Mom. I slept in late. I'm
sorry I didn't call on time."

"You're coming home. It's too
hard having you gone. I worry about you night and day."

I heard anger in her voice, but
larger than the anger was fear, and I felt sorry for my mother all by herself
there. She didn't have Lila. "Maybe you could come get me, Mom. The bus
trip was lonely."

"No," she said.
"That would take too long. I need the hours at work."

"Janice," Lila said.
"I have an idea. The holiday weekend isn't the best time to be on the
roads. As soon as you can take a few days off work, fly to Portland. We'll meet
you there, see a bit of the city, and then bring you back here for a few days
at least. I'll drive you both back to Portland to catch the plane home."

"I can't afford that,"
Janice said, but I could feel her starting to melt.

"I still have most of the
money you gave me for the trip, Mother. I'll help."

"You stay out of this, young
lady," my mom said.

"Just consider it,
Janice," Lila said. "Sleep on it tonight. Don't think about the
money. I have plenty. Let me give you a holiday. Bring a friend. Are you seeing
someone special now?"

Lila knew just how to get my mom's
mind on a new topic.

"No. I'm off men," she
said. "I've never been lucky in love. You know me."

"That's changing,
Janice," Lila said, and even I believed her. "You're a very loving
person, and I know you'll find your true mate. Sometimes the journey is long,
but in the end it's worth every moment."

"I don't know," she said.
"My heart's been broken so many times."

"Oh, sweetheart," Lila
said. "It's been difficult. But you are learning and growing. I'm proud of
you."

I felt I was eavesdropping on a
conversation between intimates, and I realized they could have talked every
week since I was two, and I wouldn't have known anything about it. I could have
thought my mom was talking to a girlfriend all these years. Maybe Lila and my
mom were girlfriends.

"Oh, Lila," my mom said.
"I never get anything right." It was eerie how I had heard her voice
in my head saying exactly the same words. Do people carry their mother's doubts
and fears around in their heads? Aren't our own troubles enough? Are our own
troubles even original?

"Janice," Lila said.
"Now you listen to me. You've done everything right with your daughter.
She's an amazing person, and that is because she has a fine, loving mother. I'm
so grateful to you for sharing her with me. What a blessing. Thank you."

"She is a good girl," my mother
said. She must have forgotten I was listening. I held my breath for what might
come next.

"She's a wonderful young
woman, talented and sweet and funny. You've done a fine job raising her. I'm
very proud of you both. You are the jewels of my life."

"Well, we do our best,"
Janice said. "And you've helped us so much over the years. You have, and
I'm grateful."

"Thank you, sweetheart. It is
my pleasure to be part of your lives. Thank you."

They let the silence hang there,
and it was a gentle silence, filled with peace and hope, and I finally felt
safe enough to breathe again.

"Okay," my mom said.
"I'd better get ready for work."

"We'll talk soon," Lila
said. "Bless you, Janice."

My mom said goodbye and hung up
without another word to me.

When I came back into the living
room, Lila smiled and asked, "Ready for a change of scene? My favorite
chowder house is half an hour south. We can stop and look at different beaches
on the way."

"Okay," I said. I sat in
the car mulling over how strange it was to have expected a blowup with my
mother and instead to have seen a whole new side of her. With Lila my mom
seemed young and uncertain. She'd never shown that side to me. She was always
bossing me around as though she knew what she was talking about.

I sat in the passenger seat of
Lila's car, cradled in red. I had on Lila's red corduroy jumper, Lila wore her
red sweater, and the car was red. Everything outside the car was blue and gray
and green. I remembered the red-carpeted spiral staircase of my dream. I
wondered if I'd ever find the dream dog, and if he would be okay.

"Did you ever have a
dog?" I asked Lila.

"Not since I've been here,"
she said. "I thought I might get one when I retired. I'm pretty sure Chloe
and Zoe would be against the idea. Do you like dogs?"

"I really wanted a dog when I
was in the third grade," I said. "My teacher had a cocker spaniel,
and she would bring him to school some days. He was so pretty. He loved to play
tug of war with an old hand towel. He carried it everywhere, trying to get you
to play with him."

"What a fun little
person," Lila said. "Animals bring us so much pleasure."

"I begged my mom, but she
wouldn't."

"Don't worry," Lila said.
"There's plenty of time. One of the wonderful things about being grown up
is you can make your own decisions. You can have a dozen dogs if you want, as
long as you give them a good life. They depend on you for everything."

"Like kids," I said.

"Yes. And like kids, they are
worth every second, every penny. More than worth it."

I doubted my mother would agree.
Janice didn't want a gangly daughter any more than she wanted a cocker spaniel.

We rode along in silence a ways,
past little shops similar to our area of Rainbow Village. My mind wandered back
to the story of when I was two years old singing "Yellow Submarine"
for my parents and grandparents.

"What happened next,
Grandma?" I asked. "When I was two?"

Lila sighed a deep sigh. She pulled
off on a beach access road and into a parking area facing the sea. It wasn't
raining at the moment, so we rolled down the windows and watched waves come in
at an angle to some headlands to the north. Gulls came and landed all around
the car, begging for food.