Keeping The Moon(33)

I miss you,” I told her. It was always easier to say it over the phone.

“Oh, honey.” She sounded surprised. “I miss you, too. How’s everything?”

“Good.” I pulled the phone further into the kitchen and sat down on the floor. I filled her in on my job, and Isabel doing my

hair and eyebrows; I was surprised at how much had happened since we’d last talked. She told me about signing autographs for three

hours, how rich the food was in Europe, and how she’d had to fire yet another assistant for being argumentative, could I believe

that.

Finally, I got to the real reason I’d called.

“Mom.”

“Yes?”

“Did you know Mira’s, well… a little eccentric?” I whispered, even though she was upstairs.

“What?” My mother was still steamed about the assistant.

“Mira,” I repeated. “She’s not like I remembered her. She’s kind of… out there.”

“Oh goodness,” my mother said. “Well, Mira always had that artistic sensibility.”

“It’s more than that,” I said. “People here … they’re kind of mean to her.”

“Oh,” she said. “Well, I knew she’d had some run-ins with the locals….”

“I know about that.”

“Oh.” She paused. I could see her on the other end of the line, biting her lip in thought. “Well, Mira has always been Mira. I

never realized it was that serious.”

“I wish we had,” I said. “I just feel so bad …”

“Oh, Colie, I am so sorry” she said, talking over me. “I feel just awful about this trip and leaving you anyway, and now this….

Look. I’ll just send Amy, my assistant, home to Charlotte on the next flight. You can take the train back and just stay with her

while I finish up this tour.”

“Mom,” I said. “No. Wait.”

But she wasn’t listening, already had her hand cupped over the receiver, while she called to someone in the room. “Look into

flights back home, will you….”

“Mom.”

“... Today or tomorrow would be best. And tell Amy …”

“Mom!”

“... that she should pack and call the cleaning service, plus book a train ticket—”

“Mom!”

I had to yell. Once my mother set something in motion, there was no stopping her.

“What!” she yelled back. “Colie, just a second, okay?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t want to go home. I’m fine here.”

Another pause. I pictured people still scurrying in Spain, planning my instant departure. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” I switched the phone to my other ear. “I’m having fun and I like my job. And I think Mira likes having me here. I

just feel bad for her. That’s all.”

“Well,” she said hesitantly. “Okay. But if you feel the situation is getting too strange, you call me and I will send someone.

Okay?”

“Okay,” I said, as I heard her tell someone not to bother, everything was fine. “I promise.”

She sighed. “Poor Mira,” she said. “You know, she always had a hard time with people. Even when we were kids. She was just

different.”

“Not like you,” I said.

“Oh, I had my hard times,” she said easily. This was comfortable territory for her; the hard times were what made her Kiki

Sparks. “But it was different with Mira. People have always had difficulty really understanding her.”

“Mom?”

“Yeah.” When it was just the two of us, she’d eventually drop most of her Kiki-ness and become my mom again. But you always had

to give it a while.

“Were you,” I asked hesitantly, “were you always so brave?”

There was a pause as she absorbed this. “Brave?” she said. “Me?”

“Come on,” I told her. “You know you are.”

She thought about it for a second. “I don’t think of myself as brave, Colie. You don’t remember how hard we had it in the Fat

Years. And I’m glad for that. I wasn’t always so strong.”

I did remember. But she didn’t need to know that.

“You know what I think it is?” she said suddenly. I could hear her moving around and I pictured her in the hotel bed, pillows

fluffed behind her. “I think that losing the weight was a big part of it, me starting to be unafraid. But more, I think it was

when other people really started to believe in me. All those women who looked to me to be strong and capable for them, to show them

the way. So I faked it.”

“You faked it,” I repeated slowly.

“Yeah, I did. But then, somehow,” she went on, “somewhere along the way, I started to believe it myself. I think that being

brave and self-confident doesn’t necessarily start inside, honey. It starts with the rest of the world, and it leads back to you.

”

The rest of the world, I thought. Okay.