The Summer We Came to Life

Chapter

14





KENDRA BROUGHT THREE THINGS HOME FROM work that day. One—the flowers. Two—the note that had come with the flowers. Three—the fax.

The flowers were a generic variety obviously picked out by his secretary.

The note said he would be working late.

The fax was a list of doctors and clinics that performed abortions.

For the first time in a long time, Kendra was considering the man she wanted to marry apart from his spec sheet.

She’d always thought they were a perfect match, as much because of their faults as their assets. Michael was unapologetically shallow, snobby, married to his career and materialistic to a fault. But that meant he had A-list friends, designer furniture, and regularly bought Kendra Gucci shoes to wear to exclusive parties. Michael indulged and even encouraged Kendra’s vices, canceling out her mother’s disapproval about her misplaced priorities. Her hippie mother, as Michael liked to joke.

Her mother had liked Michael actually. Because he was a charmer when he wanted to be, but also because she, too, thought he was perfectly suited to her daughter. It had never occurred to Kendra to find this insulting until now.

Michael worked late even on a holiday. He laughingly recounted business deals that were less than honest. He was mercilessly critical of anyone he thought stupid, unattractive or low class. Kendra tried to bring back happy images of fancy parties, but instead was treated to the memory of the fight they’d had about him flirting at one such recent party.

Her nausea was back. Kendra put a hand to her stomach. She closed her eyes and willed it to go away. She realized she was hoping the whole pregnancy would go away. Or more precisely, she wished it had never happened.

Something clinked onto the glass coffee table. Kendra opened one eye but saw nothing amiss. The Wall Street Journal was fanned atop her W magazines. The metal coasters were in a perfect stack.

Good, the nausea was subsiding. Kendra picked up the magazines and knocked them against the table to straighten and refan them. The vacation club picture fell forward on the table.

Kendra saw now what had made the initial noise. A clover leaf, suspended in a plastic holder, that had stayed taped to the back of the picture ever since Mina gave it to her ages ago. The tape finally gave, and now it sat on the coffee table looking up at her. She picked it up and closed it inside her palm.

Kendra blinked slowly and her head rang with Mina’s characteristic chuckle. Most little girls giggle, but Mina had chuckled, almost Buddha-like, as if she’d been through this before and found all things amusing.

Kendra remembered perfectly the day Mina had given her the clover. They were fourteen and Kendra had had her worst day of school ever.





Mina’s backyard, Springfield, VA, 1994



“He said he didn’t want to kiss a black girl.” Kendra kicked at a fallen acorn on Mina’s back deck. “He said it in front of everyone.” She looked up. “I’m not black.”

Mina looked at Kendra calmly but with sympathy. “Yes, you are.”

Kendra wrinkled her eyebrows. “I’m not. I mean, okay, I am. But, you know, I’m not black. Like you’re not Iranian.”

“I’m not?” Mina chuckled.

Kendra rolled her eyes. “You’re not helping.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Kendra waited on the porch, watching shadows fall across the lawn. She slapped at a mosquito on her ankle. When a light turned on in Mr. Bahrami’s study, she tried to see inside. What did that man do in there all day and night? Not that her dad was home very much lately. Working on another big discrimination case. Kendra wondered what her dad would say if she tried to talk to him about the boy. Never mind, she knew what he would say. The struggle continues, Kendra. Jeez, men. For the hundredth time that year, Kendra wished her mother was black instead of her father.

“Here.” Mina slipped back onto the porch brandishing something shiny.

Kendra looked at the square of plastic. Inside was a bright green four-leaf clover, plucked one day in its prime and now embalmed against ever aging another day. Kendra looked at Mina curiously.

“Are we going to talk about the stupid boy?”

“Nope.”

Kendra huffed. “Mina—”

Mina met her eyes. “Because that stupid boy doesn’t matter.” Mina again held out the clover leaf.

Kendra took it and held it up to the porch light.

“It’s for good luck,” Mina said with a smile. “With all the things that will matter.”

“I don’t believe in good luck.”

Mina chuckled. “I know you don’t.”

“You have to work hard to get what you want in life. Practice and planning. My mom’s the one who believes in all that other…silliness.” Kendra gave Mina her most stern, serious face.

Mina chuckled again. “I’m sure you’re right, KJ. But just in case one day you find out you’re wrong, I figured it couldn’t hurt. Right?”