“I think we went there, too.” E.J. says. “And they came over to the rec.”
I feel so embarrassed that I’ve never even thought about any of this. Never realized that there was a community center for Native American youth here in Portland. Mom, E.J., and Lee Lee keep on talking, comparing the experience of African Americans and Native Americans in the United States. I don’t even know what was said to make E.J. get all fired up. He’s talking like he’s in a debate. “I mean, I get all of that—the US has done some messed-up things. But I’d rather live here than any other country. Real talk. I feel what Mrs. Phillips is saying and everything, but at the end of the day, we still got a lot to be thankful for living here.”
Mom takes a bite of food, then says, “Jade, you’re mighty quiet over there. What do you think?”
“Me?” I take a moment to get my thoughts together. “I guess, well, you’re all right. I think the US has a lot to be thankful for and a lot to apologize for.”
The rest of dinner is more somber than usual. The mood doesn’t lighten up until Mom brings out the peach cobbler that Lee Lee and I made. It’s the first time we’ve ever baked anything from scratch. Mom dishes out cobbler for each of us. I watch her as she takes her first bite. “You like it?” I ask.
“Mmm-hmm,” she says, even though the look on her face says she wants to spit it out.
E.J. gets a spoon and scoops out a bite. “Let me taste,” he says. He blows on the spoon, all dramatic like it’s burning hot, and then he puts it into his mouth. He swallows and looks at Mom, who gives him her don’t-start-nothing look, and then he says, “No comment.”
Lee Lee hits him on the arm. “Forget you. Next time you make dessert.”
“Next time let’s just get ice cream from Safeway.”
We all end up laughing, and the night ends with card games and Scrabble, and I go to bed, full in so many, many ways.
28
las diferencias
differences
It’s the first weekend of December. The rain is steady and the air is cold. Maxine honks her horn for me to come out. I get into her car and am greeted by the blowing heat. It feels like a sauna in here.
We drive downtown, to the Portland Art Museum. “Have you been to a museum before?” Maxine asks.
“Does OMSI count?”
“Kind of. Well, not really. I mean, OMSI is interactive, so it’s not the same as traditional museums. That’s what makes it so unique. Where we’re going today is, like, well, I don’t know. It might be different than what you’ve experienced. Like, you can’t touch the art and you won’t be able to take photos, and it’s a really quiet space, so we’ll have to talk softly.”
I feel like she thinks I don’t know how to act in public or something. “Okay, got it,” I say. I look out the window. The weeping clouds drench the ground. Maxine turns her windshield wipers to a faster speed.
When we get to the museum, we meet up with the rest of the group. Sabrina repeats some of the same rules Maxine told me in the car. She gives us a time to meet back at this spot. “Have fun,” she says.
As we enter the first exhibit, Maxine’s phone rings. “Give me a sec,” she says. She walks away from me and answers her phone. “Jon?”
I stand to the side of the entrance. Ten minutes pass. I go to find Maxine. She is outside, standing in front of the building.
When she sees me, she mouths, I’m so sorry. This is important. She shoos me off with her hand. “Go ahead. Go in without me.”
I stand there for a moment. “Are you sure?”
She nods.
I walk away. I wonder what they have to talk about. I mean, when you break up with someone, it’s over. That’s it. What’s left to discuss over and over? And why do these conversations have to happen when Maxine is with me? For all the things about Maxine that I respect and admire, there are things like this that make me feel like she can’t really tell me anything about loving myself and taking care of myself because here she is, doing the opposite.
I walk around the museum and bump into another mentee-mentor pair who are taking photos even though there’s a sign that says no photographs are allowed.
“Hey, Miss Jade,” Brenda calls out. “Where’s Maxine?”
“On the phone. Outside.” I don’t try to hide my frustration.
Brenda makes a confused face but doesn’t say anything. “You can join us,” she says.
We walk through the museum, but I can’t even really enjoy it. I feel like I’m intruding on their time, and I can’t stop thinking how rude it was for Maxine to take that phone call—especially from Jon.
I stray from Brenda and Jasmine and walk through the photograph collection. I have walked through most of the exhibits when I see Sabrina, who tells me it’s time to meet up at the front so we can reflect. We’re all supposed to say one thing we enjoyed and one question we have. I skip out on the closing to go to the bathroom.
When I come out of the restroom, Maxine is sitting on a bench in the lobby. “So sorry about that. We had to have that conversation,” she says.
I don’t say anything. I can’t even fake a that’s-okay smile.
“Well, I feel terrible that we didn’t spend time together. How about I take you to dinner?”
I don’t really want to say yes, but I’m hungry and I know there aren’t many options for dinner at home.
“Let’s walk to someplace close,” she says. On the way to the restaurant, Maxine does most of the talking, because I don’t really have anything to say to her, plus it’s hard to walk and talk at this pace, going uphill. I’ll be out of breath if I say too much. “So, what did you think?” she asks.
I want to tell her that I think she should have called Jon back later. That I think I should be important too. But I know there’s only one answer she’s looking for. “It was awesome. I loved it.”