Blind Squirrels Read online

  “Get in the car!” she yelled.

  I gave her a bewildered look. “What?”

  “Get in my car,” her voice was commanding. “Hurry up.”

  Obediently, I opened the passenger door and got inside. Olivia hopped into the other seat.

  “What’s the hurry?” I asked. Olivia started the car and backed up. The tires were squealing as we sped out of the parking lot.

  “The drawing is at noon. I just know we’re gonna miss it. I forgot all about it until an hour ago. You can’t win if you aren’t present.” Olivia was hysterical, and I had no idea what she was ranting about.

  “What drawing? Why do I need to go?”

  “I entered your name. One of us has to win.”

  “Could you please explain? I had plans...Where are we going, and what are we going to win?”

  “Concert tickets – in the front row. Elton John.”

  “What? No way! He’s not coming here.”

  “He’s coming to Biloxi. We could go over there – especially if we’re in the front row. Anyway, the radio station is giving tickets away at the Carpet Outlet. We’re almost there – no thanks to you.” I didn’t understand why this excited Olivia so much. She didn’t even like Elton John.

  We made it to the Carpet Outlet with time to spare. There was a huge crowd, but we managed to find a parking spot. Olivia pulled out our ticket stubs and prepared to win. I wasn’t quite so optimistic– my luck never ran smoothly.

  Finally, a man approached the microphone with a ticket in his hand. “I have the winning ticket right here. This is for the upcoming Elton John concert in Biloxi. The winner and three of his or her friends will ride to Biloxi in a stretch limo, dine at the four-star rated Blue Beard’s Oyster Bar and Restaurant, be seated on the front row during the concert, and go backstage to meet the incomparable Elton. And the winner is...Harvey Daniels who lives on Florida Street. Congratulations Harvey! And thanks to everyone else who entered...”

  Olivia turned to face me; disappointment was all over her face. “I’m sorry, Kat. I wanted to win those tickets for you. I know how much you love Elton.”

  Olivia’s thoughtfulness touched me. “Thanks, Olivia. That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever tried to do for me. You’re a good friend.”

  Olivia dropped me off next to my car. I watched her drive away as I sat on my hood trying to think. There was a time in my life when I only had two dreams. One was a life with Max. The other one was really an alternative dream, in case I couldn’t get Max. That dream was about Elton John. Twenty some years later, I knew I could never tempt Elton, and my chances were almost just as meager with Max. The only difference – and it was a difference that worked in my favor – was that Max did like women. But in the real world, I had about as much chance with Max as I did converting Elton to heterosexuality.

  I got into my car and headed towards Mom’s house. She still lived in the old neighborhood, and I knew I would drive by Max’s old house before going home. Daddy had been dead for twelve years now, but it was still hard to go home without missing him. Mom was out in her garden with her straw hat on, and she looked just the same as always – just like when I was a child. I tooted the car horn, and Mom looked up and started waving. She was to the fence gate before I could get out of the car.

  “Katrina! You surprised me. I didn’t know you were coming by today. I’ve been planting some cabbage, and my potatoes are already up. We’ll be having fresh vegetables before you know it.”

  We sat out under her oak tree, and I listened to her talk about her garden and her sewing circle. Mom stayed active, and she was in good health because of it. She spoke of my brother, Carl, and Bridgett. My Aunt Jane who recently had a massive heart attack was doing well after her bypass surgery. Her husband, Uncle Dean, had quit smoking after forty-five years. My Uncle J. D. was at odds with his daughter Sandra. Uncle J. D. was always at odds with someone. My Aunt Sue was still living in Washington, although she planned to move back home when she retired.

  When she caught me up on all the relatives, Mom started singing that old familiar tune.

  “When are you going to settle down, Kat? Rick and his family are all settled and doing well. You need to find a good man and have a bunch of kids. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about either of my children.”

  “Mom, do we have to go down this road every time I come over? I want to meet someone – really I do. I can’t promise you any grandkids though. You have Bridgett, Carl, and Betsy. And now there’s Ginger, Richard, and Brucie. I know you love those kids. And they live so close you must see them all the time.”

  “I do,” she sighed, “But what I really want is for you to be happy. I just associate happiness with a family. My children were my only source of happiness. If you don’t want children, at least meet a nice man. For a while, you were fairly happy with Ben. I want that for you again.”

  “I don’t know if I can make you understand, but I want more than what I had with Ben. I know you and Daddy weren’t the perfect couple, and I guess you think there is no such thing. But I believe in true love. I believe that there is someone in this world that is just for me. Until we find each other, I’m not settling for less.”

  Mom looked displeased. “I suppose you think that Max Whatshisname is your one true love? If he is, why aren’t the two of you together? Love and happiness take two, Kat. You need to get your head out of the clouds and stop dreaming. Max chose to marry someone else. He doesn’t care two bits about you. He never did.”

  For some reason, my mother’s words ripped into me like a rusty blade. She pierced my heart and shattered my being. Standing in front of her, I felt naked and scarred. She had no right to wound me that way. This was my life to live in whatever fashion I chose. I turned to retaliate, but I stopped. She was a tired old woman, and she thought she was helping me. Still, I couldn’t bare her company for one minute more. I had to get away from her.

  Making a few sorry excuses, I headed for my car. Mom followed me.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” I promised her.

  “I didn’t mean to interfere in your life, Kat. I just wish you would give this some thought. Dreams are just that – nothing more. Remember how you used to dream of being a writer? But your father convinced you that you’d never make a living doing that. He was right. And then later you got it into your head that you could take a programming job in a foreign country, but I finally persuaded you how dangerous that could be. It’s a parent’s job to guide their children. Get married, have a family, and keep your secure respectable job. Chasing dreams is for little children, not grown women. You don’t have to be different to enjoy life. Ordinary isn’t so bad – that’s what most of us are. That’s what I am, and it’s what you are, Kat,” she smiled as though she thought I would be happy to hear that I was ordinary. Then she added, “Remember, I love you. Call me later.”

  Mom walked back towards her garden. She walked slightly stooped, and she suddenly looked every one of her sixty-eight years. I felt sorry for her. She had lived her life without any dreams. Daddy had been a drunk and an adulterer, and Mom had thought she had to settle for that kind of life. She would never understand my penchant for risk-taking, my romantic view of life, or my need to always reach for my dreams. She deserved my pity.

  On my way home, I drove past our old house on Heritage Street – Mom now lived several blocks away. The new owners had remodeled it, and it looked nothing like my old home. Farther down the road, I passed Max’s old house. His dad still lived there, and he was outside watering the lawn. He glanced up as I passed, but he had no idea of who I was.

  My eyes were stinging from tears when I pulled into my parking lot. I parked in my usual spot and went to my apartment. Inside, I checked my answering machine. There was one message. I pressed the play button.

  “Hey, Kat, it’s Olivia. You know I hate talking to this machine! Call me! Bye.”

  I dialed Olivia’s number. “Hey, Olivia! What’s up?”

  “Hi. I wa
nted to apologize for this morning. I didn’t mean to get your hopes up.”

  “No apology necessary. So, did you see Lee?”

  “No. Look, I was thinking we might be able to buy some tickets to that concert. I’ve been up and down Florida Street trying to find old Harvey Daniels. How much are you willing to pay for a backstage pass?”

  “He’ll never part with any of those. But if he’s willing, I’ll buy two – one for me and one for you. Call me if he’s willing and we’ll negotiate a price. It is for Elton, so who knows how much I’ll pay?” I knew she wouldn’t get him to sell, but I allowed myself to dream for a moment.

  “Gotcha. But I’ll pay my own way. Talk to you later.”

  Only Olivia could cheer me up after that visit with my mom. Now she had me imagining how it would be to meet Elton John. She had always been a great best friend, but we had our moments in high school. Sometimes, it was amazing that Olivia had put up with me. I started remembering some of the times that I had tried our friendship...

  Chapter 12

  My summer vacation was somewhat boring. I spent several hours a day on the phone with Olivia. Occasionally, I would walk over to Aurelia’s house, but her mom kept her busy working all summer. I was soon looking forward to school.

  The school day started on one of the hottest days of the year. We couldn’t wear shorts to school, and most of our classrooms did not have air conditioning. I tried to decide between my favorite pair of Levi’s and a sundress my mom had bought me during the summer. I had slimmed down a little bit, but I still felt fat whenever I wore a dress. Still, I knew how hot I’d be if I wore my tight jeans. What would it be? Fat or hot? I decided to wear the jeans.

  We had a new bus driver that year, Mrs. Hassock. She was much younger than Mrs. Decker, but she was only slightly stricter. In the coming weeks, we would win her over, and she would be a pushover.

  I still caught the bus at Aurelia’s stop. Stella and her brothers were there, along with a number of new freshmen. One of them – Steve Dour – looked like a miniature Johnny, complete with a silk shirt and a dark tan. He was cute, but I remembered what a jerk Johnny had been. Steve might be the same.

  When the bus reached the last stop, it surprised me to see Travis get on board. He made his way towards my seat, but he sat down across from me. I hadn’t really seen Travis much since the day he took Birdie for a ride on his bike. He looked more sullen and reserved than before. This new brooding darkness gave him a mysterious appearance. I found it difficult to take my eyes off him, but he barely seemed to notice me. Mrs. Hassock dropped him off at Brown, but I was still thinking of him when we reached WMHS.

  I hadn’t missed Max so far, but then he hadn’t ridden the bus for quite some time. The few minutes before school and lunch would be the real test. Those were the times I always saw him last year.

  The bell rang for homeroom. Mine was upstairs, and my teacher was Mrs. Royal. Mrs. Royal was a short dumpy old lady. She wore pearl encrusted horn-rim glasses held around her neck by a black elastic cord. Most of the time, the glasses rested on Mrs. Royal’s ample bosom, but when she put them on her face, she looked as if she was trying to impersonate some movie star from the sixties – Raquel Welch or Ann-Margaret perhaps.

  Journalism was my first period class. Miss Jezebel – a middle aged brunette – was our teacher. Miss Jezebel wore a mid-calf narrow skirt, a long-sleeved tailored blouse, and little black half glasses that she balanced perfectly on the end of her nose. Her hair was worn up in a neat French-twist. Think of Miss Hathaway from the Beverly Hillbillies or Helen from The Andy Griffith Show. The irony was that she behaved prim and proper while her name suggested something quite different.

  Miss Jezebel taught us the basics of newspaper reporting. In her class, there was no room for opinions. It only took a few weeks of journalism to convince me that I preferred fictional writing to that of a reporter, but I was in the class for the year, so I made the best of it.

  Mrs. Nolan taught second period English. Mrs. Nolan was close to sixty with salt-and-pepper hair, but she was in touch with our “younger generation.” She often wore wide-brimmed hats, and she wore her black rimmed glasses on the bridge of her nose. The hats, glasses, and her old-fashioned big-collared dresses, along with her mile-wide smile, reminded me of photos I had seen of Bella Abzug, the famous politician.

  I would grow to love Mrs. Nolan who took my writing to new levels. She challenged me to write poetry – something I had never cared to do before – and I found that I enjoyed it. She soon became my personal critic, and I would share all of my writing with her – except maybe my personal notes to my friends. I valued her opinion, and I took her advice to heart. She would one day stand out as my favorite teacher of all time.

  American History filled third period, and our teacher was Mrs. Hart. She was a petite woman with blond hair that seemed to form wings on the sides of her head. She was outspoken and rigid, and she demanded that everyone participate in class – something I was never able to do. I was always afraid I would make a fool of myself, and Mrs. Hart always proved me right.

  First, second, and third period all had one thing in common that I liked. My friend Laura was in those classes with me. We hadn’t exactly lost touch during the tenth grade, but it was good to have her back in some of my classes again.

  Fourth period consisted of Algebra II and second lunch. My teacher for Algebra II was Mrs. Patrone, an exotic Asian woman who seemed much too young to be teaching. She was a worse math teacher than Mr. Parish had been. A typical day in her class consisted of handing in homework, seeing one problem solved on the board – usually by one of my fellow students – and getting the next day’s homework assignment. Mrs. Patrone spent the remainder of class helping students on an individual basis. I never seemed to get my turn before the bell rang, and I foundered in her class.

  Neither Olivia nor Aurelia had lunch with me, but Laura and Felicia did. This was the time I missed Max most. I would often catch myself watching for him to come down the breezeway.

  During lunch, Felicia introduced me to a few of her other friends, including her new boyfriend Wesley. Wes was cute – he had the most beautiful green eyes, ruddy hair, and a sweet baby face. He was over six feet tall, and he was on the school basketball team. He was always extremely sweet, and he and I enjoyed joking around with each other. Sometimes, I wondered if Felicia was jealous, but if she was, she never let it show. I was happy that Felicia’s new interest in Wes had meant the end of her and Joe’s affair.

  Felicia’s other friend was called Coquette. I wasn’t impressed with Coquette from the beginning. Her face was in a permanent scowl, and her blond hair was too thick and too curly. She had small blue eyes and a fat, flattened nose. In the two years I knew her, she never smiled. She was also without a personality. Her voice was monotone, and she was forever complaining and moaning about something. I couldn’t understand Felicia’s interest in Coquette, but since Felicia liked her, I put up with Coquette and treated her as a friend.

  Physics – my fifth period class – was Mr. Singer’s specialty. He was a tiny man with even tinier eyes. He wore thick glasses, and he walked hunched over. He was very old – he’d fought in World War II – but his hair was thick and black. He was a likable old man, but he thought Physics was not a woman’s field. Girls – obviously misguided by overzealous feminists – automatically passed his class with a “C,” whether they earned it or not.

  Sixth period was just down the hall from Physics class. Accounting had Mrs. Berry as the teacher. Mrs. Berry was the only typical looking teacher I had that year. She was tall and thin with dark brown permed hair. She had a kind face and a sweet disposition. The downfall to accounting? No boys. Otherwise, I really enjoyed the class.

  When I climbed on the bus that afternoon, I saw Travis sitting in the third seat. I deliberately sat down beside him. “Hi, Travis.”

  He slowly turned his gaze on me. “Hey.” He seemed listless and indifferent.

  I looked in
to his eyes, searching for some sign of life; I didn’t see any. “I haven’t seen you around lately.”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  My attempt to have a conversation was failing miserably. “Where have you been?”

  His look was almost contemptuous. “Like you care.” He turned away and peered out the window.

  “Sorry,” I said. I didn’t say anymore. It was clear he didn’t want to talk to me.

  At our first Bons Copains meeting in January, we decided to have another membership drive. Being part of the membership committee, I was tasked with coming up with some activities for the candidates to perform during our “rush”. I was coming up blank, so I asked everyone else for suggestions. They came up with some lame ducks, but I took the best ones and ran with them.

  The first week was about clothes. Candidates were to wear our school colors on Monday. On Tuesday, they were to wear their clothes inside-out. Wednesday would be “Dress like the Fifties Day.” On Thursday night, we would meet at Pete McDermott’s house, and the candidates had to wear our club colors. On Friday they were supposed to wear their pajamas.

  The second week was going to familiarize the candidates with our members – and ultimately try their patience. Each candidate would have a one pound bag of flour to take care of for the entire week, and they were to get as many club members as possible to sign the bag. They also had to carry the bag with them at all times and avoid busting it. I don’t know what we thought we’d accomplish with this ordeal, but we thought this was a great idea. We thought it would be entertaining to watch the prospects carrying the bag around all week and trying not to drop it. At the end of the week, the hopefuls would meet with the membership committee after school in Mrs. Kalakos’ room.

  I persuaded Olivia to apply as a member. We weren’t seeing much of each other at school, so I thought this would be a good way to spend time together. Amazingly, Olivia agreed.