therealljidol Week 6: Let's Go To The Mall

(AN: Many thanks to bleodswean for looking over my offering this week and making some suggestions. Any and all mistakes and whatnot are my bad. After five rewrites it all kind of blurred together.)




"I hate you!" I snapped at Dad as I stormed through the back door in front of him.

"I can live with that!" he roared. "And you’re groun…"

"No!" Bette shouted. "Stop! Not another word, Mack. I mean it! Not one more syllable!"

Both Dad and I turned to stare at Bette. She had come into the family room and was looking directly at Dad in a way I’d never seen her look at him before--she was fuming.

"Bette, you have no idea what this is about…"

"I don’t care. I don’t care at all. Not tonight. You are not going to ground Sue tonight. Ground her tomorrow, but not tonight." She had her hands on her hips and that’s when I noticed that she was wearing her best maternity dress.

"Suzette is my daughter…" Dad started.

"Don’t you dare pull rank on me, Andrew Mackenzie! We promised each other that when we became a family we would never pull rank on one another where the children were concerned. You promised! The babysitter is due in twenty minutes and you can’t spoil tonight. You just can’t."

My father’s face was a study in conflict. I could tell he wanted more than anything in the world to ground me, probably for the rest of my life, but he also seemed to want to agree with Bette. Seriously, who wouldn’t? She was as big as a house and all blotchy and clearly not having any fun being pregnant at all, and she was mad.

Dad looked at his watch, "twenty minutes?"

Bette nodded, "about that."

"I need a shower," he said, and he was gone.

Bette turned to me, "go and get ready honey, your dad and I are taking you out for dinner. Wear something pretty."

I ran upstairs to my room. Grabbed my stuff and nipped into the bathroom the boys and I shared on the second floor. I was out of the shower and back in my room in five minutes. Fifteen minutes later Bette came in as I was sitting at my little vanity finishing my make-up—mascara, a little blush, and a pale lip gloss—all I was allowed to wear. I’d chosen my blue and white striped mini dress with the Peter Pan collar. Bette had given it to me on my last birthday. Everyone said I looked really cute in it.

"Oh, you look so nice."

"Thank you." I looked at her in the mirror trying to read her expression. Something had happened tonight and I couldn’t figure it out. I’d fought with my dad. Told him I hated him, something I’d never, ever done before, and instead of being grounded for all eternity he and Bette were taking me out for dinner.

"I guess Dad told you what happened."

"No. He’s a bit peeved with me. I expect he’ll tell me later. Or you could tell me." She picked up my hairbrush and began to brush my hair. "I love your hair, Suzie. It’s so long and pretty and thick. I always wanted long hair, but my mother would never let me grow it. I didn’t have long hair until I was out in the world on my own, but then I got married and the boys started coming and it just made sense to cut it." She shrugged. "I would have given anything to have hair like yours."

"Thank you," I said. I felt I needed to say more, "your hair is pretty, too. You suit it short, it frames your face."

"Thank you. It’s falling out," she sighed.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it did with Ricky, too. Yet another thing they don’t tell you about pregnancy."

"We had a cat once that got pregnant and her fur fell out…" I gasped and clamped my hand over my mouth, my eyes flew to Bette in the mirror. She was laughing. Then I was laughing. "I’m so sorry," I blurted.

"It’s okay." Then she looked into my mirrored eyes and asked, "what happened, honey?’

"I checked my phone while we were at a red light. I didn’t mean to. I’ve never done it before, not once in all the times he’s taken me driving. I don’t even know why. It buzzed and I just…"

She hugged me. "He loves you so much--if you only knew how much. He just wants you safe. I’ll tell you my trick, shall I?"

I nodded. "Please."

"I put it in the inside pocket in my purse, zip it closed, then close and fasten my purse. The trick is to make it as hard to get at as possible—so many steps to get it make it easy to wait until you’ve pulled over and parked." She put my hairbrush back on the vanity. "We should go down, I came up to tell you Steven is here to look after the boys. What’s your favourite restaurant?"

"Chianti’s," I replied.

***

Although we were in my favourite Italian restaurant, and although it was a weekday and not too busy, and it was still bright and lively, dinner was awkward. Bette and I talked about this and that, we ordered the same thing on the menu and giggled about one of the servers who looked like Justin Bieber, but my dad just sat there being all stoic and above it all.

Between the entrée and the dessert cart, I noticed Dad and Bette exchanging a look and I thought, here it comes. Whatever it is, it’s coming right now. I knew something was up—first, they didn’t tell me before it was almost time to leave, and second, it wasn’t my birthday, I hadn’t won an award or anything, and it was a long time till I could boast a bunch of "A’s" on my report card, and I came "this" close to being grounded till the end of time.

Bette cleared her throat and looked at me with eyes that positively pleaded. "Suzie, your dad and I have been kind of planning a surprise for you, at least we hope it’s a surprise. We hope you’ll love the idea, actually. You see, when the baby comes, for the first little while it will be in our room, and that’s fine, but it will need a room of its own…"

I sucked in air like I couldn’t get it fast enough and felt the room tilt. "Not my room. Please, not my room."

"Hear us out, Sue," my father said. "We want to move you up to the attic. I’ve drawn up the plans. We’re going to blow out some windows and dormers to enlarge the space, and we’re going to put a full four piece bathroom up there, just for you. I’ve got the guys coming in to start this weekend." Dad was a contractor. He built a lot of apartments and luxury homes. "The guys" were his crew, men he’d worked with for years, men he trusted to "get things done and get them done right." He kind of ran out of steam and looked at Bette.

"We can decorate it any way you want," he finished.

"But Mom and I did my room. It was our last project. Couldn’t you put the boys up there?" I said, weakly. I felt like they’d punched me in the gut. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I thought about looking through the catalogues with Mom, picking out the fabrics for the curtains and the bedspread. I remembered snuggling on her bed and picking out pillows and looking at paint chips when she was too sick to be up. Everything in my room had my mother’s stamp on it. The lamp on my bedside table had been hers when she was a girl, my bed was the one she bought when she moved into her first apartment after college, it was brass with high head and foot boards with pretty little ceramic ball decorations on the posts. I loved it. I loved my room. "The boys would love it up there," I tried.

"Maybe," Dad said sceptically. "I don’t think Ricky would like being so far from his mom, do you?" Dad was really raining it in, I could tell. He wanted this over with. He didn’t like it when I talked about Mom in front of Bette. Bette didn’t mind, but Dad did.

"I’m going to go and bring the car around," He said.

"Don’t you want dessert, Mack?"

"No."

"What about you, honey?" she asked me.

I shook my head, and Bette shook her head at the server who was approaching our table with the desserts, there was the smallest trace of regret on her face as she did.

Dad rose and went over to pay the bill. Then I watched him leave to get the car.

"What is it, Suzie? It’s okay. Whatever you’re thinking is okay."

"It’s just Mom. Sometimes when I really miss her I go into my room and it’s almost as if she’s there, right beside me. Sometimes I just miss her something awful."

I looked at Bette and saw tears welling up in her eyes. "I know," she said softly. "I know."

"Do you miss your mom?"

"Every day. Especially now," she said. "This is my first baby without her." One of the tears that had been clinging to an eyelash let go and trickled down her cheek. "The boys’ father was gone by the time Ricky came along. She was with me in delivery. She and I picked out all the boys’ baby clothes together. It was a thing, you know? We’d go through all the clothes on hand and decide what could be used again, what we’d donate or pass on to a friend, what we needed, and then we’d go shopping together. I miss her so much."

Now Bette was crying and I was crying with her and for myself at the same time. She got it. She knew exactly how I felt. I could see she did. I bit my lower lip hard.

"I haven’t even gone through the baby clothes I have because it would just be too sad, you know?"

And I did. I can’t explain it, but I did.

"Maybe we could go through them together? If it would help?" I offered.

Bette actually sobbed. "Oh, it would. It would. Thank you. It would be so nice. You’re family! That’s perfect!" And then she laughed and sniffed and I laughed and sniffed.

"Do you have a tissue?" she asked. I checked my purse and shook my head. Then Bette began to laugh, and lifted the beautiful cloth napkin from her lap, shrugged and said, "a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do," and she blew her nose noisily into it. I picked up mine, burst out laughing, and did the same.

Bette checked her watch. "You know what? It’s still early. Let’s have your dad drop us off at the mall--Just the two of us. He can pick us up when we’re ready to go home. What do you say? Girl’s night at the mall?"

I hugged her as I helped her out of the booth. "Let’s go to the mall!"

She hugged me back, tight. "I just love you to bits, Suzie Q."