The Mermaid's Mirror

Chapter 8

After school, Lena went home to an empty house. Her mom was still at the banking conference she had organized. Cole stayed at after-school daycare when both parents worked.

Lena cranked her favorite band—the Blue Lunatiks—on the iPod stereo while she searched through the cupboards in the kitchen. Where's the—?

She reached for a bag of chips, then stood looking at them. The chips?

She opened the bag and munched a few. No, but there was never a wrong time for chips. She looked around the kitchen, even opening the freezer. Not in here.

Lena wandered out to the living room. She opened the hall closet and peered inside.

This is crazy, she thought. WHAT am I looking for?

She ate a few more chips and put the bag away. She went upstairs and stood in the middle of her room, frowning. It must be in here ... whatever it was. She went to her bureau and looked at her collection of cobalt-blue glass—started for her by Grandma Kath, whose birthplace was Bristol, England, famous for blue glass. Lena had some animals—a cat, a swan, a seal, and an angelfish, plus a few little perfume bottles and a sea-glass marble with veins of cobalt in it. She even had a miniature blue teapot with creamer and sugar bowl, all on a tiny tray. Nothing was missing.

Her gaze fell on the wooden hope chest at the foot of her bed. It was full of old toys, books, schoolwork, and photos. Hmm ... maybe it's in here. She lifted the lid and propped it open.

Her favorite stuffed animals—the ones she had not been able to part with when Cole was born—lay on top in the chest.

Aw, Pinky, she thought, pulling out a stuffed pink hippo. She set Pinky down on the floor next to her, then extracted a plush bunny, a chenille teddy, Puss-in-Boots (complete with shiny black boots and feathered hat), and a green sea turtle.

The next layer down was a bunch of file folders containing elementary-school assignments and artwork. I really can't draw, she thought, perusing her crayoned stick figures.

Oh, here was her family tree. That was the big fourth-grade project. Lena remembered worrying that her tree would look strange, with three parents on it. But when she saw her classmates' family trees, she stopped worrying. Pem had two moms—she had been adopted from Guatemala when she was a baby—as did Zoe. Their friend Ryder had two dads. Andre and Kenny, who were twins, lived with their grandmother.

Lena slid her old school papers back in the file folders and set them aside.

Underneath a fuzzy pastel baby blanket, Lena found a photo album, its pages tied shut with yellow ribbon. She lifted it carefully out of the trunk. It was full of photos from her early childhood, before her mother died. She hadn't looked at it in years.

Even as she opened the cover, Lena knew the photo album wasn't what she was looking for. It's too big, she thought, then made a frustrated sound. What wasn't too big?

Lena flipped the pages in the album. Here she was as a newborn, plump and squished-looking, without any hair. There was a shot of her parents surrounded by flowers and balloons that said, "It's a girl!" and "Congratulations!" She was just a tiny bundle in her mom's arms in that one. Her dad looked so young and happy as he gazed at his wife and baby.

She turned the pages. There were more baby pictures ... sleeping, posed in various outfits, wide-eyed and solemn, grinning toothlessly through a faceful of mashed peas, clapping, reaching for her dad, laughing ... so many photos.

Lena turned the last page of the album and stared down at the photo of her mother. Lucy looked radiant in that shot, with her brilliant green eyes and reddish gold hair. The color of honey on fire, Lena remembered her dad saying once, long ago. Despite her beauty, Lucy's heart-shaped face was pale. She must have already been sick, thought Lena.

How old would Lucy be, if she were still alive? Lena felt a moment of shame at how little she knew about the woman who had given birth to her. In some ways, she was lucky that Mom—Allie—had filled all her maternal needs so completely that she didn't even miss Lucy.

When she was little—probably Cole's age—Lena had asked her dad a few times what happened to Lucy, but he always said, "I can't talk about it, sweetheart. I'm sorry. Someday when you're older, I'll tell you how we lost her."

What if it's hereditary? thought Lena. Maybe I have whatever disease she had.

She thought of the words I AM FINE being washed away by the waves.

***

Lena's dad fixed spaghetti—his customary meal when Mom was working late. After dinner, Cole cleared the table and said, "Dad? Want to play catch?"

"Uh—"

Before Lena's dad could answer, Lena said, "I need to talk to Dad for a few minutes, Coley, okay?"

"Okay! I'll play basketball." He headed outside to play with his m ini-hoop.

Lena's dad leaned against the kitchen counter. "What's up?"

"Um, I was wondering," said Lena, putting plates in the dishwasher. Then her throat closed as she prepared to utter the next words: if you could tell me how my mother died.

"Yes?"

Lena dried her hands with a towel.

Her father waited. Finally he said, "Honey, we're not going to move. I should never have said that. I—"

"No," said Lena. "It's not that. I want to know—" She forced herself to meet his gaze, and he looked at her quizzically. An image of that old photo—with her young, happy parents holding their new baby—came into her mind, and she could not bring herself to say: how Lucy died.

"...if you ordered my cake yet."

Her dad smiled. "Lena. Your mom plans stuff for a living. Of course she ordered your cake! Why? Did you change your mind about having chocolate?"

"No," said Lena. "I was just wondering."

The sound of the garage door clattering open interrupted them.

Lena's dad looked toward the kitchen door. "Speaking of Mom," he said. "She's had a long day. Will you heat up some spaghetti for her?"

"Sure." She heaped pasta on a plate and put it in the microwave.

Cole banged in through the front door as their mom came in from the garage.

"Hellooo!" she called.

"Mom!" Cole raced up to her and threw his arms around her waist.

"Hi, Coley!" She bent over and hugged him. She looked up. "Hi, guys. Mmm, I smell spaghetti. Is there any left over?"

"It will be ready in two minutes," said Lena.

"Group hug!" yelled Cole. "Dad. Da-ad. Lena, come here."

Dad and Lena joined the other two, and they all embraced.

"I'm beat," said Mom. "I'm whipped. I'm exhausted. I'm ... tired." She opened the closet door and tossed her shoes and coat inside. Then she collapsed on the sofa. "Oh, sofa," she groaned, "how do I love thee?"

Cole jumped onto the sofa next to their mom. "Mom, you know what? It's Monday. Can I watch Monday Night Football? Dad said I had to ask you." Cole was not allowed to watch TV during the week.

Mom groaned again. "Oh, honey," she said. "Mommy is just catatonic from telling people what to do all day. Please don't ask me right this second."

"What's cantatonic?" asked Cole.

Mom chuckled. "I guess it means I can't tell another person what to do today. Dad will have to make the call this time."

"Come on, bud," said Dad. "Let's read some books, then we'll tune in to the game." He and Cole left the room.

Lena took the plate out of the microwave and grated Parmesan cheese on top of the steaming pasta. Handing the plate to her mom, she joked, "I thought you never got tired of telling people what to do."

"Oh, thank you, sweetie," said her mom. "And yes, that's true. Generally, I'm quite comfortable bossing everyone around. As you well know." She took a bite of spaghetti and made appreciative sounds. She swallowed and said, "I guess negotiating TV on school nights is my weak spot. On the one hand, it's a school night, so ... no TV On the other hand, he's the biggest six-year-old sports fan on the planet. It seems wrong to deny him his football."

Lena poured a glass of red wine and handed it to her mom.

"Ohhh, Lena, you're the bearer of nectar and ambrosia tonight." She took a sip. "Delicious."

Mom must know, thought Lena. Dad would have told her how my mother died.

Scrolling through recorded shows on the DVR, her mom said, "Oh, Project Runway! Excellent! You know I love to watch that show while I eat. Those size-zero models make me feel hungry." She pressed Play on the remote. "Want to watch with me, sweetie?"

Lena regarded her mom, exhausted after a long day of work ... now relaxing with leftovers and reality TV. "Sure," she said, and sat down next to her. The old sorrows could wait.