Piecing Me Together(24)

I feel like she thinks I don’t know how to act in public or something. “Okay, got it,” I say. I look out the window. The weeping clouds drench the ground. Maxine turns her windshield wipers to a faster speed.

When we get to the museum, we meet up with the rest of the group. Sabrina repeats some of the same rules Maxine told me in the car. She gives us a time to meet back at this spot. “Have fun,” she says.

As we enter the first exhibit, Maxine’s phone rings. “Give me a sec,” she says. She walks away from me and answers her phone. “Jon?”

I stand to the side of the entrance. Ten minutes pass. I go to find Maxine. She is outside, standing in front of the building.

When she sees me, she mouths, I’m so sorry. This is important. She shoos me off with her hand. “Go ahead. Go in without me.”

I stand there for a moment. “Are you sure?”

She nods.

I walk away. I wonder what they have to talk about. I mean, when you break up with someone, it’s over. That’s it. What’s left to discuss over and over? And why do these conversations have to happen when Maxine is with me? For all the things about Maxine that I respect and admire, there are things like this that make me feel like she can’t really tell me anything about loving myself and taking care of myself because here she is, doing the opposite.

I walk around the museum and bump into another mentee-mentor pair who are taking photos even though there’s a sign that says no photographs are allowed.

“Hey, Miss Jade,” Brenda calls out. “Where’s Maxine?”

“On the phone. Outside.” I don’t try to hide my frustration.

Brenda makes a confused face but doesn’t say anything. “You can join us,” she says.

We walk through the museum, but I can’t even really enjoy it. I feel like I’m intruding on their time, and I can’t stop thinking how rude it was for Maxine to take that phone call—especially from Jon.

I stray from Brenda and Jasmine and walk through the photograph collection. I have walked through most of the exhibits when I see Sabrina, who tells me it’s time to meet up at the front so we can reflect. We’re all supposed to say one thing we enjoyed and one question we have. I skip out on the closing to go to the bathroom.

When I come out of the restroom, Maxine is sitting on a bench in the lobby. “So sorry about that. We had to have that conversation,” she says.

I don’t say anything. I can’t even fake a that’s-okay smile.

“Well, I feel terrible that we didn’t spend time together. How about I take you to dinner?”

I don’t really want to say yes, but I’m hungry and I know there aren’t many options for dinner at home.

“Let’s walk to someplace close,” she says. On the way to the restaurant, Maxine does most of the talking, because I don’t really have anything to say to her, plus it’s hard to walk and talk at this pace, going uphill. I’ll be out of breath if I say too much. “So, what did you think?” she asks.

I want to tell her that I think she should have called Jon back later. That I think I should be important too. But I know there’s only one answer she’s looking for. “It was awesome. I loved it.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. You know, this city has so much to offer, so much great art to see. People just stay in their bubble of North Portland and never get out to see all that the city has,” she says. “Have your friends ever been here?”

I know she is not referring to my friends at St. Francis but the ones in my neighborhood. “Probably,” I say. Even though I am not sure.

When we get to the restaurant, there’s a short wait and then we are seated. Once we’ve had time to look the menu over, the waitress approaches the table. Maxine orders grilled salmon on top of arugula and an Arnold Palmer. She says to me, “Get whatever you want, okay?”

I really want a burger and fries but I don’t want a Healthy Eating, Healthy Living lecture right now. So, even though I’ve never had arugula and I have no idea what an Arnold Palmer is, I order the same thing as Maxine.

When the meal comes, I realize that an Arnold Palmer is some weird name for lemonade and iced tea mixed together. It’s actually pretty good. So is the salmon and arugula. Maxine starts with the small talk, but I can’t muster the fakeness. I am still thinking about what she said on our way here. “What did you mean when you said people in North Portland live in a bubble? I live in North Portland and I—”

“Oh, no—not you specifically. I meant that I know a lot of people who only stay within the small confinement of their blocks. They don’t really go out of their neighborhood to explore other areas.” Maxine squeezes a lemon into her drink.

I’m not trying to be disrespectful to Maxine, but I don’t like her talking about my friends like she knows them, like she understands anything about them. “Maybe they can’t afford these places,” I tell her.

“Yes, well, maybe the museum is a little pricey,” Maxine says. “But I think they have special discounts for families who can’t afford full admission. All that kind of info is on their website.”

“Well, not every family has a computer and, if they do, they might not have the Internet,” I tell her.

Maxine is full of ideas. “There are a lot of free things too. I mean, even taking a drive to Multnomah Falls or going to Bonneville Dam.”