Chapter 26 - A Million Rainbows

I decided I would give Kyle’s happy thing a shot.

It wasn’t like I had nothing to be happy about.

On Wednesday morning while lying in bed, I counted on my fingers five good reasons to at least try: Kyle was one of them. Then Charlie. And I decided he and Charlie tied for first place. Then there was the fact that school was on break for the rest of the week, which meant no gym and no Lyndsay to deal with for five whole days. And another great thing was that thanks to our lovely, sweet neighbor, Mrs. Patterson, we had an actual turkey this year.

It was pretty lame because she was the one who brought Mom shopping, and while Mom was putting rum in her cart, Mrs. Patterson was putting an extra turkey in hers. But I was forever grateful to her for doing that.

She must have also encouraged Mom to buy some actual food because she had gotten a box of stuffing, a can of cranberry sauce, and a bag of potatoes. And with a few extra items we’d gotten from the school’s backpack program, I was getting pretty excited, thinking we might pull off a proper dinner.

When I finally rolled out of bed, I had decided I would also make sure Charlie had a reason to be happy, and I spent the entire day cleaning and getting the house ready so she could have a nice Thanksgiving with Mom.

By the time four o’clock rolled around, I was pretty much finished, and the house was as clean as it could be. There was only so much you could do with rusted sinks, old mud-stained carpet, and moldy tile grout. But hey, I tried.

I had done the dishes, cleared and wiped the counters and table, swept and mopped the floor, and had taken out the trash and the recycling. I had also brought two large duffle bags of clothes down the street to the laundromat, washing them and folding them, and actually putting the clothes away.

Of everything, the stack of clean, folded towels in the freshly scrubbed bathroom was my favorite part, and I kept glancing at it when I walked by.

“Here,” I said to Charlie, putting a box of crayons at her feet and handing her a piece of paper. She was sitting on the floor in the living room watching TV. “Make Mrs. Patterson a thank you card. For the turkey. We’ll go give it to her.”

I paused with a cup of coffee in my hand, taking a moment to admire how clean the house was, then I left Charlie and pushed open Mom’s door.

“Mom, I made you coffee.”

She groaned and pushed into a sitting position, propping up against her pillows. “What time is it?”

“Four.”

I handed her the coffee, and she croaked a “Thank you” as she cleared her throat and took a sip.

I turned, meaning to leave.

“Go grab a cup and sit with me.” Mom patted the spot beside her.

I sulked, now regretting this rash act of kindness. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want coffee,” I grumbled. But my escape wouldn’t be that easy.

“Come on,” she said, tapping the sheets again.

I sighed and rolled my eyes a little, then slumped onto the edge of the bed, dangling one leg over the edge, and keeping a foot on the floor.

Mom’s room was a disaster. I was tempted to get up and start shoving stuff into a trash bag but sitting down made me realize how exhausted I was.

“Do you want to watch Friends?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Mom had all ten seasons of Friends on DVD. She’d had those for as long as I could remember. I laughed to myself when she clicked on the episode where the character, Joey, talks about putting The Shining into the freezer.

“So how’s Kyle?” Mom asked like she was reading my mind, but it was hardly even a coincidence; I was always thinking about Kyle.

“Good,” I said.

“So what’s he like? You’ve told me nothing about him.” She took a sip of her coffee and pulled a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand beside her.

“Mom, don’t smoke right now.” I was annoyed that she was even smoking in the house in the first place. I could barely stand the smell of her room, and I was always having to shove a towel under her door to keep the stench from permeating the rest of the house.

She put the cigarette back without arguing. “So tell me?” she said, still wondering about Kyle.

This was an easy question. I was smiling inside because thinking about Kyle always made me smile. “He’s pretty great.”

“Are you guys being careful?” Mom was looking over her coffee, holding a stern gaze on me. “You know we can’t afford a baby in this house.”

My eye roll was pretty heavy this time. “Yep,” I answered. I stared miserably across the room. She didn’t need to know more than that. I wasn’t going to start confiding in Mom about my personal life. Not when all she cared about was whether or not a baby was going to pop into the picture. As far as I was concerned, there would never be a baby in the picture. I’d already had one of those the day Charlie was born.

“Does he have a job? A car?”

Mom’s voice was growing louder, echoing in my skull. My head throbbed and both of my feet were on the floor now. “Mom, he’s seventeen.”

“That’s plenty old,” she said. “I was already bussing tables at fourteen.”

“Right.” I knew that was a jab at me. For some reason, Mom could never figure out why I didn’t have any extra time for a “real” job. It was quite the puzzle.

“It might do you good to go after someone older. Someone with money,” she said. “You don’t want to get stuck living in a shithole like this.”

It shouldn’t have. I knew better by now. And sober Mom had left the building weeks ago, so what did I expect? But that comment completely floored me. I twisted to face her. “You want me to go date some perverted asshole?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Mom, I’m not gonna wait around for a guy to rescue me. And you know what? You don’t have to either. You’re so much smarter than that.” I shook my head at her. “I don’t understand you. You could go get a job, or hell, write another book even. I mean, you have fans that are still buying your books. Just write more.”

Mom didn’t answer me. She took out a cigarette, lighting it—my cue that it was time to go.

I got up and paused with my hand on the doorknob. “And your book is really good,” I said, tearing up because it was the most frustrating thing to know she had all that amazing talent, all that drive and spirit in her, and she was throwing it down bottles and leaving it out with the trash.

“You read my book?” She glanced at the pile of notebooks on her nightstand, the blank look in her eyes, hard to read.

“Yeah,” I said, tears streaming down my face. “I loved it. You’re an amazing writer, Mom. And you know what? You have a daughter in there who thinks you’re an amazing mother. And if you tried just a little, then I think you could be too.”

Mom was quiet, her tear-stained cheeks glistening in the light from the TV.

“Just try, Mom. Try to be happy for her, okay? You don’t have to worry about me. Do it for Charlie.” I left the room, closing the door behind me.

Charlie and I knocked on Mrs. Patterson’s door. She lived across the street from us. Her apartment was a little nicer than ours from the outside and a lot nicer on the inside. It was always clean and cutely decorated with knickknacks and lamps and framed photos on the walls.

“Hello, girls,” she said, kindly greeting us as she opened the door.

Mrs. Patterson was in her early fifties. She kept her hair natural, gray-streaked, and it was cut in a short chin-length bob. She was obviously busy with her own Thanksgiving Day preparations and was sweaty and a little disheveled and was wearing an apron.

“I wanted to thank you for the turkey,” I said, nudging Charlie, so she would hand over the card she had made.

“Oh my goodness,” cried Mrs. Patterson, taking it and holding it up with a smile. Charlie had drawn a turkey, making the shape by tracing her hand like she’d learned to do at school. “This is beautiful, Charlie. Thank you.”

Mrs. Patterson lowered the card, her smile fading, her expression turning somber as she held my gaze. “Brianna, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

My shoulders dropped with the gravity in her voice.

I waited for the worst.

“Well, I don’t want to worry you. It’s not for a while. But come June, I won’t be renewing my lease here …”—her words grew muffled, drowned out by the rising ocean around me—“My daughter Lianne is having a baby, and I told her I’d move closer to help out. She lives over in New Hampshire, so I’ll be looking for a job over there …”—darkness pressed in, heavy and unyielding; I couldn’t breathe—“Brianna? Brianna, are you okay?”

I blinked away my tears, finding my way back to the surface, gasping for air. “Congratulations,” I said. “That’s really exciting.”

Mrs. Patterson smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile. It was a sympathetic smile, mixed with a lot of pain and worry for me. She had been there for us over the past four years, helping Charlie to school, helping Mom get to the store, bringing us dinners, bringing us to doctor’s appointments even. She was a big, huge, reason I hadn’t fallen apart. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Oh no, it’s okay. I’ll figure it out.” I was backing away. “Thank you for everything. Really. And for the turkey …” I pulled on Charlie to go, knowing I wouldn’t be able to hold it together much longer.

When Kyle called that night, I didn’t pick up.

I was failing at my mission to stay happy for the day, and I was also a hypocrite.

Because all I wanted to do was run to him so he could rescue me, so he could save me from this crushing feeling.