Piecing Me Together(36)

I do not want to be Maxine’s experiment, charity case, or rebellious backlash against her mother. I do not want her to feel she has to coach me on what to say.

We say good-bye to everyone and leave.

Maxine and I ride down the hill. The sky is dark now, and the road is slick with rain. The side-to-side, side-to-side rhythm of the windshield wipers fills the silence. In the dark these majestic houses feel creepy, hidden away in all the trees and tucked behind alcoves. When we get to the bottom of the hill, Maxine says, “I’m not sure what you heard.”

“Please don’t. Just— Let’s not talk. Please take me home.” I don’t want an explanation or an apology. That feeling comes again, tightness in chest, tears in eyes. My mouth on lockdown, no words coming out. But they are there; I feel them rising.





42


saber

to know

Mom knows the food in the fridge is from Maxine’s mom. The ticket stub from Portland Art Museum and the program from the Artists Repertory Theatre are both outings Woman to Woman arranged.

Mom knows.

She is sleeping to work, and working to eat, and working, and working, and working, And Mom knows that when she asks me, “How was your day?”

And I say, “It was fine,” that I am leaving out the details to spare her from hearing how the village is raising her child.

“So, things are going well with this mentoring thing, huh?” Mom presses. “And to think, you didn’t even want to give Maxine a chance.” Mom eats another forkful of Mrs. Winters’s food. “Now you’re with her all the time. Just loving it, huh?”

“I wouldn’t say I love it,” I tell her. “I’m actually thinking about quitting.”

Mom puts her fork down. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Jade, nothing happened but you want to quit? Come on, now.”

“I’m serious. Nothing happened. Nothing’s happening. That’s the problem. I just . . . I don’t know. I feel like half the time I’m Maxine’s charity case—”

“That’s it? That’s why you want to quit?” she asks. “Look, Jade. You are not quitting that program. Who do you think is going to pay for you to go to college? Not me, no matter how much I save. Not your daddy—”

“Mom, I can find another way to get a scholarship,” I tell her. “I have good grades and I’m sure I’ll get a decent SAT score—”

“This isn’t only about a scholarship!”

“It isn’t?” I say.

“Don’t get smart with me. First of all, I didn’t raise you to be a person who walks away from commitments. Someone else could have taken your spot. Second of all, not every girl has a young woman like Maxine to look up to. You need to learn that burning bridges always has a consequence.”

“But I don’t look up to Maxine,” I tell her. “She’s using me to feel better about herself. And her mother gave us all this food because she feels sorry for us. If that’s how you act when you have money, I’d rather stay poor.”

Poor. I actually said the word out loud. To my mom. About us.

“That’s a foolish thing to say, Jade.” Mom gets up and walks to her bedroom. “A very foolish thing to say.” When Mom comes back to the kitchen, she is carrying a jar of coins. A big jar, like maybe she bought something at Costco and saved the container. “You want this to be your life, Jade?” Mom sets the jar in the middle of table. “You want to grow up and have children and only have this to leave behind as an inheritance?”

Mom is talking to me in her I’m-so-mad-at-you-I-can’t-even-yell-at-you voice. I really wish she would just yell at me.

“Now let me be clear: having money doesn’t make you successful. I know that. And I’m not saying Maxine is perfect, but I am saying that even imperfect people have things to teach you,” Mom says. “You’re too smart to be acting so stupid, Jade. You see how hard I’m working, trying to save every extra penny I get so you can have some kind of life, and you just going to throw away an opportunity that’ll get you into college? So what, Maxine isn’t perfect? This girl graduated from St. Francis as valedictorian. She learned how to navigate this white world, and she is trying to show you how to do the same. You telling me she has nothing to teach you? You better learn how to get from this opportunity what you can and let the rest fall off your back,” Mom says. “You understand what I’m saying, Jade?”

I sit still and listen. I know better than to talk back and start an argument.

“You better figure out a way to stay in this program and finish strong. You hear me? Figure it out.”





43


tener dolor

to have pain

Today we learn words that pertain to going to the doctor. Mr. Flores is always teaching about one kind of thing while I’m thinking about another.

No me siento bien. I don’t feel well.

Tengo dolor. I have pain.

Me duele aquí. It hurts here.





44


hablar

to speak

I miss the next two outings with Maxine. I lied and told her I had too much homework so Mom wouldn’t let me go. I lied and told Mom the outings were canceled. I don’t even miss them. I mean, I miss the free food and I miss going to places I probably would have never gone to on my own. But I don’t miss the lectures about how to eat, how to not be who I am.