I'm Glad My Mom Died(19)

Mom looked stunned then hung up the phone and started wailing like somebody died. It was the first time I wished that I was prettier and didn’t care about being hampsome.





16.


“ARE YOU SURE I SHOULD wear this?”

I’m looking down at the outfit that’s sprawled out for me on our torn couch, the same outfit I’ve worn on every audition since the Winn-Dixie situation: a fuzzy pink shirt with a rhinestone heart in the center of it, black faux-leather skorts, and black gogo boots.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“But I feel like a streetwalker in it,” I tell Mom as my hot curlers rattle. These curlers are also a post-Winn-Dixie development.

Mom lets out a big laugh.

“How do you know what that is?”

“From when you had me watch Taxi Driver.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Mom remembers. “Jodie Foster’s an—”

“Unrivaled child performer,” I finish for her, since she says the same thing every time Jodie Foster’s name comes up.

“That’s right, baby. Unrivaled. Unrivaled except for you.”

I nod along and look down at the outfit again. I dread putting it on. It makes me feel embarrassed and not like myself.

“Are you sure this is what I should wear?”

“Yes, the outfit makes you look very pretty. Not streetwalker pretty, but very pretty.”

“But is pretty the—?”

“ARMS,” Mom orders, cutting me off. I raise my arms. She pulls off my shirt and starts changing me into the outfit.

I was just going to ask if pretty should be the goal. I’m trying out for a hermaphrodite on Grey’s Anatomy. I didn’t know what that was until I asked Mom and she said it’s when a person is both a girl and a boy. If I’m supposed to be part-boy, I don’t know if a rhinestone shirt is the best article of clothing to communicate that.

Despite the outfit, I get a callback the same day. Afterward, the casting director comes out and asks to speak with Mom.

“We’d like to bring Jennette in for a final callback. Just her and one other girl.”

Mom nods along, violently excited.

“But can you change her into a different outfit? Something a bit more… androgynous?”

“Well, we live really far away—Garden Grove. Do you know where it is? No one knows where it is. It’s far. We’d have to take the 101 to the 110 to the 405. We could just take the 5, but traffic’s always bumper-to-bumper on that freeway. Not enough lanes—”

“Greg?” the casting director calls out to her assistant, interrupting Mom. Greg hurries over. “Would you mind lending your flannel shirt to Jennette for her callback?”

Greg takes off his flannel shirt. He’s wearing it over a plain tee. The casting director takes it and hands it to Mom.

“There you go. Problem solved.”

“Oh, thank you so much. I’m so happy we don’t have to take the 5!”

Mom takes my hand and we walk into the bathroom together. She changes me into the flannel. It’s an odd combo because I’m still wearing the skorts and gogo boots on the bottom. I guess in a way it is part-girl and part-boy. Maybe it’s spot-on?

The final callback goes well—I don’t think I could’ve done the lines any better—but we’re in the van on the way home when Meredith calls and tells Mom that I didn’t get the part.

“What!? Why not?!” Mom veers aggressively.

“They said she’s too pretty.”

Mom hangs up the phone. There’s no swearing, no screaming, no crying. There’s almost a joy to her. I’m shocked. I’ve never seen Mom be happy I didn’t get a role, ever… but I’ve also never been too pretty for a role, ever. And now I am. I’m too pretty to play a ten-year-old androgynous hermaphrodite.





17.


“DEB, I THINK JENNETTE’S GOT OCD,” Grandpa says heavily. He doesn’t know I can hear; he thinks I’m asleep on my Costco mat while he and Mom watch Jay Leno. But I’m not asleep. I just don’t like Jay Leno very much, so I rest my eyes while I wait for Conan to come on.

“Oh please.” I can tell by Mom’s tone that she waves her hand dismissively while she says it.

“You oughta take her to a therapist,” Grandpa says.

“Come on. Jennette is not some troubled girl with tics.”

“I don’t know, I see her doin’ all her little rituals constantly. And she looks so frantic when she’s doin’ ’em. Makes me feel bad.”

“Dad, please, she’s fine. You’re just a worrier. Now let’s watch. Kevin Eubanks is so charming. Look at that smile.”

Grandpa pauses to watch. I hear the crowd laugh two separate times. Then he speaks again.

“Maybe we should take her to a doctor, just to check. She might need some professional help.”

“She does not,” Mom says sternly. “Jennette’s perfect, all right? She does not need help.”

They go back to watching Jay. I keep my eyes shut and think about what Mom said. That I’m perfect. I know this is important for her to believe, even though I’m not sure why. I’m not allowed to have any problems.

Then I think about what Grandpa said. That he thinks I’ve got OCD because of my rituals. Frankly, I wish Grandpa would have just asked me about my rituals because then I could have explained to him that it’s not OCD, it’s the Holy Ghost. I wonder if he would have believed me. And then I wonder if I even believe myself.